CHEAT (Right Men Series Book 3) Read online

  Table of Contents

  CHEAT

  Copyright

  Blurb

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Epilogue

  DRINK- Sneak Peek

  Acknowledgments

  Books by Mayra Statham

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2018 by Mayra Statham

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover Image Deposit Photos

  Cover Work: Tracie Douglas of Dark Water Covers

  Editing: Julia Goda of Diamond in the Rough Editing

  Formatting: CP Smith

  Blurb

  Never cheat. But if you must, cheat death.

  Veteran Army Medic Garrett Wright narrowly escaped death more than once. Through the horrors of war, he witnessed the darkness and ugliness of humanity, and let it consume him from the inside out.

  Stefanie Banks knows all too well how dark and ugly the world can be. She lives her life determined to make every moment better than the last.

  In a dive bar in the middle of nowhere, Stefanie and Garrett’s worlds collide. Sunshine and darkness face off, and sparks fly.

  Can a war-torn soul and one who never felt loved trust one another enough to cheat the curveballs life throws at them and hold on to love enough to make it last the distance?

  *CHEAT does not have any cheating of any kind and can be read as a standalone.*

  Dedication

  Do not cheat. But if you must cheat, cheat death.

  -Will Smith in Hitch

  Chapter One

  Garrett Wright

  If his grandmother could see him now, her knowing blue eyes would be full of disappointment. Not only because he had thought of her as his grandmother instead of Nicola, the name she preferred he call her, but because of the how much he’d had to drink.

  He had been doing good, too.

  But what was that saying? Two steps forward, three back? His fuzzy, alcohol-drenched brain couldn’t stay focused on what was going on.

  “Not such a fucking badass out here, huh?” the skinny dipshit taunted as his two other hipster friends held him down.

  The asshole swung, but Garrett didn’t move.

  Didn’t fight back.

  Didn’t try.

  God, he was tired of trying. Instead, he raised his head, looking the skinny asshole in the face. “Fuck you,” he spitted out with a grin on his face before he goaded the twerp to hit him again.

  Garrett blinked slowly, but sure enough, just as he opened his eye, he felt the asshole’s hand hit the side of his face. Pain splintered down through his eye and out his jaw.

  Pain he could handle.

  Pain he deserved.

  Especially today.

  If Nicola knew what today meant, what it stood for, Garrett had no doubt she would get it. She would get where his head was at. She would understand, even if it was fucked up and twisted.

  Out of everyone in his life, the tough, old broad who held his family together would be the one to get it.

  Not that he would ever tell her. Fuck that.

  The asshole swung again. Plowing his fist against Garrett’s gut, punching the air out of him.

  He could have taken the three skinny assholes without blinking, but he didn’t even try. Instead, his mind was stuck on what the matriarch of his family would think.

  Talk to me, she had pleaded with him after the whole thing with Marc and his girl had happened. She didn’t need the shit swimming in her head. She didn’t need it festering and decaying her soul like it did his.

  But if she knew, she would get it.

  She would understand why he was letting three skinny, little hipster shits kick his ass.

  She would get why he had broken his self-imposed sobriety and drowned himself in the bottle of overpriced, cheap-as-hell whiskey.

  Why he had picked the fight with the little assholes.

  A hard punch knocked him back and onto the floor, but again, he didn’t fight back.

  Tonight, he deserved it.

  Tonight, he needed to feel the pain.

  “Hey!” a feminine voice yelled out, but through the blaring pain behind his eyes, Garrett couldn’t get his eyes to open.

  He could hear the little shits talking to her.

  Threatening her.

  Peeking through one eye, all Garrett could make out was the outline of a pretty woman, her reddish-brown hair highlighted from the dull light post behind her.

  “Get out of here, Stef, unless you wanna play with us.” Stef?

  They knew her.

  Something about the way the asshole said her name made Garrett’s heart thunder in his chest. Especially when the dick stopped hitting him, took a step away from him and toward her.

  Fuck.

  He couldn’t let a woman get hurt because of him. He tried to get up, but between the whiskey and beating, his head was heavy, and his body hurt.

  “I don’t know why Kip lets you guys hang out here. You guys are nothing but a bunch of asshole losers who need to get a life.”

  “Big words, Stef. You’re all brave and shit out here. But you gotta know you don’t have Kip as your watch dog right now.”

  “Please, I don’t need him. Now, leave this guy alone,” she clipped. His whiskey-addled brain wanted to give her a high five. She was doing a great job of sounding fearless. But Garrett knew better than anyone that fearlessness made you stupid. Frowning, he tried to get his damn body to move.

  “Okay. I leave him alone, you finally gonna give me a little something? Why don’t you come over here? My boys and I’ll show you a really good time.” Fuck. He had to help.

  “Whoa! Stef,” the ass suddenly said, fear dripping from his voice, and Garrett fought to focus his eyes on her.

  Between the booze and pain, his limbs wouldn’t cooperate. All he could make out was a flash of silvery light as she whipped something out of her purse. The soft yet too bright light and his fuzzy head were playing games with him. Garrett could have sworn he suddenly saw wings behind her.

  An angel.

  It being Valentine’s Day weekend, with the way she smirked at the assholes, so damn fearless and like she could give a fuck, she looked like the sweetest, sexiest Cupid imaginable.

  Cupid? Damn, he was messed up.

  She pointed whatever she was holding tow
ard the twerp. “I said, leave him alone.” The steely determination in her voice was clear as day, and he couldn’t be sure, but in his painful haze, he thought he heard the distinct sound of a gun clicking in place.

  He tried to turn to see who took a piece out.

  He couldn’t let her get hurt.

  Not because of him.

  “Whoa, come on-—”

  “Hey, Stef!”

  “Come on, relax,” the other two said behind him.

  “I said, leave him alone,” she repeated. Her voice got stronger and louder with every word she uttered. Whatever she was holding, she was doing it steadily and with determination. The two idiots behind him shuffled back, deeper into the alley.

  “Okay, Stef. See? We let him go,” the twerps shared, their voices trembling in fear.

  Was she holding a gun?

  “Now, don’t do anything stupid.” That was the asshole nearest to her. Garrett could see the back of his stupid shoes in front of him.

  “Girl, you okay?” a deeper voice called out, breaking the silence before the girl could respond.

  Garrett let out a breath of relief, knowing someone was there. Someone who could help. Garrett strained to breathe as he watched black boots peeking out from the back door of the bar she must have come from.

  “Peachy. These boys were just leaving,” the woman informed the gritty voice.

  “Kip,” the asshole squeaked with fear.

  “I told you.”

  “Kip, it wasn’t my fault,” the twerp whined.

  “Never is, boy. But I told you.” The man’s voice was like gravel, and he stood between the woman and the asshole. Garrett could hear the other two step back, deeper into the empty alley. “You started shit again. You and your boys are not welcome here.”

  “Kip—”

  “Not anymore. I see your faces, you gotta know, kid, the first thing I’m doin’ is calling the cops.”

  “Kip.”

  “And knowing you, boy, aren’t you already done with your second strike? A third one… well, you know what happens.”

  “Fine. Just… man, the dick started it.”

  “I don’t give a shit. Now, stay away from Stef and the bar and get,” the man growled. Garrett closed his eyes. Letting the buzz of the booze and the pain of the hits wash over him, Garrett let it take him away as everything gradually turned black.

  The last thing he saw was Cupid’s lips’ bow as he felt her warm hands in his hair. The soft scent of berries and sugar lingered with the copper of the blood on his lips.

  And boom.

  Just like that, he was out like a light.

  Stefanie Banks

  “Cupid,” he mumbled before turning into a sack of potatoes in my arms. I looked up at the one man I knew I could count on.

  “Kip, help me.”

  “Girl...” I knew that tone. That tone was going to suggest, if not bluntly, that I was crazy. Looking down at the beaten man in my arms, I would guess he was right.

  “Kip, help me move him.” I tried to lift the guy, but he simply groaned and then snored. Shit, the man was heavy.

  “We should call an ambulance,” Kip informed, his voice emotionless; if anything, he might have sounded bored. I looked up at him.

  “And have the paper do another story about a fight breaking out here?” It was a dirty card to play, and the second the words were out of my mouth, I felt guilty. But I knew Kip. I had to pull out the big guns for his own good. His ex-wife and now nemesis, Mary, wanted to shut the doors of the bar. Being a journalist for the local paper, she didn’t shy away from reporting any and every little thing that happened at Lunar.

  “Fuck,” he huffed, kneeling near me. “I’m getting too old for this shit.”

  “Hardly.” I smiled and winked at him, not missing how he rolled his eyes at me.

  “What you going to do?” Kip’s frown deepened.

  “Take him to the hospital.” I shrugged. What else could I do? Take him home, a little voice in my head whispered. I shook it off.

  “Always taking in strays,” the old man muttered under his breath.

  “Hey!” I tried to find a way to argue, but I couldn’t fight the truth.

  “Fuck. Girl, I can’t leave the bar right now.” He sighed, running his fingers through his mostly silver hair.

  “I’m not asking you to. Just help me put him in my car.” I looked down at the giant and couldn’t help myself. My hands ran through his soft, short-cropped hair. So much emotion rushed through me I didn’t seem to find the right words. Keep it together, Stef, I scolded myself.

  “I can’t believe you took out Lola.” He shook his head, and I looked up at Kip.

  “I didn’t have a choice. You know Danny and his friends.”

  “I know. I also know you should stay the hell away from that boy,” he warned. A deep, heavy sigh sounded, and guilt rushed through me.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. If Mary hears about it—” I shook my head, my hands mindlessly stroking the now snoring giant’s dark hair. Even with his face bloodied and swollen, I could tell he was handsome.

  “What if he tries something?” Kip warned, snapping me out of my weird creeper moment, and I popped my head to look at him.

  “He’s completely out, Kip,” I pointed out with widened eyes. “What is he going to do? Snore me to death?”

  “Jesus Christ, girl, how many times I gotta tell you? You don’t joke about death,” he clipped, and I winced.

  “I’m sorry,” I apologized quickly, knowing how much the mention of death weirded him out. “Just… please help me take him to the car.” I met Kip’s light green gaze and could see the concern.

  “Girl, I don’t think—”

  “Please,” I whispered, holding my body completely still. I didn’t ask for a lot, and looking into Kip’s eyes, I knew he knew that.

  His gaze softened, and not for the first time since I’d met him when I was eleven years old did it make me sad he’d never been a dad. He would have been a spectacular parent. He rocked as my only male role model. What was I talking about? He was my only family role model.

  The thought sparked a memory. One of my favorites. The day I met him.

  How deeply he had scowled at me when I walked into the hole-in-the-wall bar. Even now, so man years later, I didn’t know why I had walked into the old place.

  But at eleven years old, hungry and cold, what choice had I had?

  I had stepped into the dark bar and took a seat on a stool. My legs had dangled, much like they still did now since I was short, only clearing five feet on a good day. He’d come to me and asked what I wanted, and without fear of the crotchety man and decrepit location, I had said, “A water on the rocks.” I knew water was free and hoped that it wasn’t literally rocks in a glass but took my chances.

  My foster parents at the time had been fighting, and I was tired of being there. Tired of the screaming and hitting and shit flying this way and that through the air.

  Kip had brought a glass of water and stared at me from the other end of the bar as I sipped slowly, glad it was ice water rather than water with pebbles or something. About an hour later, he brought a bologna sandwich on white bread, and without a word, he continued to pretend to ignore me.

  He had done that every afternoon, Monday through Friday and sometimes during the weekend, for the next eight years.

  “You call me the minute you get home.” He pointed at me, and I nodded. I would agree to anything if he helped me.

  As I was about to let go of the handsome, beat-up stranger, his arm popped up and toward me. For the first time since I wasn’t sure when, I didn’t flinch at someone’s touch. He caressed my face, his touch so gentle my breath hitched and lodged in my throat. He groaned deeply, and I suddenly found myself wondering what his voice sounded like.

  As if he could read my thoughts, one swollen eye opened slightly, darkness peering through. “Cupid,” he mumbled, one side of his broken lips tipping upward. “Cupid’
s better than an angel any day,” he mumbled bizarrely, just as his hand dropped to his side.

  Poof ! Just like that, he was out again.

  “Cupid? Jesus Christ, he really did drink that entire bottle of whiskey,” Kip muttered. “Help me with him,” he ordered. I shook my head out of my haze and swallowed, trying to ignore whatever I was feeling. “Why can’t it be the small guys who get fucked up? This guy is huge,” Kip complained.

  “He let them beat him up,” I whispered.

  The sight of him letting Danny and his friends lay their hands on him was clear in my head. I couldn’t help wondering why anyone, especially someone who could obviously defend themselves, would just stand there and take a hit.

  “Don’t go there, girly. Come on.” Kip snapped me out of my thoughts and together, slowly, we hefted him up and semi carried but mostly dragged the man to my car. “Jesus, this guy even going to fit in there?”

  “Funny,” I quipped, knowing he was teasing. Kip had hated my Volkswagen Beatle from the moment I had purchased it.

  Somehow, with the seat pushed all the way back, we got him into the front seat.

  “There,” Kip huffed after putting the guy’s seat belt on and straightening his back. He wiped the sweat from his brow before running his fingers through his mostly salt with a bit of pepper hair. “You take him straight to the hospital, get one of the orderlies to help you, and you get the hell out of there.”

  “Kip,” I groaned.

  “You promised,” he reminded me, and I fought rolling my eyes. “You go straight home, lock up, and call me to let me know you got back okay.”

  “I will.” I sighed.

  “If Danny is anywhere near your place—”

  “I’ll call you,” I reassured him.

  “Don’t take Lola out again,” he scolded, but I could see by the light in his eyes that he was amused. “You’re a pain in my ass, kid,” he muttered. I couldn’t help but grin at him.

  “You love me, though.” I liked to remind him. “You would be bored without me around,” I teased before giving him a side hug and walked toward the driver’s side.