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  Deploy | Copyright © 2015 Jamie Magee | All Rights Reserved | This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the author. | Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book. This purchase allows you one legal copy for your own personal reading enjoyment on your personal computer or device. You do not have the right to resell, distribute, print or transfer this book, in whole or in part, to anyone, in any format, via methods either currently known or yet to be invented, or upload this book to a file sharing program. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Where To Find Jamie Online:

  For Steffini...

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-one

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

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  Copyright © 2015 Jamie Magee

  All Rights Reserved

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the author.

  Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book. This purchase allows you one legal copy for your own personal reading enjoyment on your personal computer or device. You do not have the right to resell, distribute, print or transfer this book, in whole or in part, to anyone, in any format, via methods either currently known or yet to be invented, or upload this book to a file sharing program. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Where To Find Jamie Online:

  authorjamiemagee.com

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  Other Books by Jamie Magee

  EDGE SERIES READING ORDER

  Alphas Rise

  Dark Lure

  Sacred Betrayal

  Risen Lovers

  Fall of Kings

  Queens Rise

  COMBINED WEB OF HEARTS AND SOULS READING ORDER:

  Insight

  Embody

  Image

  Whispers of the Damned

  Witness

  Vital

  Vindicate

  Synergy

  Enflame

  Redefined

  Rivulet

  Imperial

  Blakeshire

  Derive

  Emanate

  Exaltation*

  Disavow

  The Witches

  Revolt

  Scorched Souls

  *If you are a fan of Adult Paranormal Edge can be read with the Web of Hearts, before of after Exaltation—the stories share the same characters.

  INSIGHT READING ORDER:

  Insight

  Embody

  Image

  Vital

  Vindicate

  Enflame

  Rivulet

  Imperial

  Blakeshire (Drake's Story)

  Emanate

  Exaltation

  Disavow

  SEE READING ORDER:

  Whispers of the Damned

  Witness of a Broken Heart

  Synergy of Souls

  Redefined Love Affair

  Derive (Aden's Beginning)

  A Lovers Revolt

  Scorched Souls

  For Steffini...

  One

  Fucking traitor, Declan Rawlings thought, as his gray gaze shifted to the ominous dark clouds.

  One rumble of thunder—one flash of light. That’s all I need, he thought.

  He’d been cussing Mother Nature since the moment he flicked his eyes open, bright and early at four thirty in the morning, nearly twelve hours earlier.

  Declan had cussed. He’d negotiated. He’d done everything but bust out into some hippy rain dance.

  He didn’t want to be there. At. All.

  It was more than his pride saying so. It was him knowing his limits and knowing that now, with only days left before he was gone from this hellhole, he had to keep his nose clean which would be next to impossible when his piss poor luck kept putting him in the same fucked situations.

  Don’t kick his ass. Don’t look that way. Fuck ‘em all... he chanted on in his mind.

  The baseball field was twenty yards from him. The last game of the season was underway, and Murdock Souter, the reason Declan was serving time in detention, was being warmed up to pitch.

  In one week, Declan would walk the line. Grab a stupid piece of paper that said he sat through thirteen years of education and memorized what some asshole decades before decided people needed to know to get through life.

  X equals fuck you in Declan Rawling’s book.

  Since before he could remember he had been plotting his way out of Bradyville, Georgia. A nowhere town that bordered South Carolina nestled against the Savannah River.

  He knew his way out. The Marines. His grandfather was one. His father was one. Each of his uncles was one—yeah, it was a given.

  With his father at his side, he’d signed up the day he turned seventeen and had been given a predetermined date he’d counted down to. Now he was months past the age of eighteen, and would have a diploma. Done. Over. Out. Oorah...

  Today he was serving detention for fighting, which would be cool if he actually threw the punch, or hell if the fight had no merit, but he didn’t, and it did.

  His brother Nolan threw the punch. And he threw it because Murdock Souter got in his face—over what, Declan never understood. But more than likely it had to do with Justice Rose, the pretty girl with dark, golden locks falling down her back and blue eyes that had been known to steal a boy’s breath, who happened to be sitting on the bleachers across the way.

  There never really needed to be much of a reason to fight when it came to the Rawlings’ boys and the Souters. Both families were huge and had always loathed each other. Some say the fight began with their grandfathers in Africa, of all places, but no one knew for sure.

  In Bradyville, opposites didn’t attract—they fought. The Rawlings were primarily a military family, cut hard—men of few words and strong actions. The Souters, for the most part, were the men in the suits. There wasn’t much money in Bradyville, but what there was, they had. What they didn’t own they sought to destroy in any way they could. The youngest generation of Souters was comprised of spoiled jocks who were all talk and no walk—the least promising crop of assholes thus far from that lot.

  Declan was serving his brother’s time in detention for more than one reason.

  One, of c
ourse he would have hit the Souter, too, without reason. Especially Murdock Souter. Never—not even when they were kids—had he liked Murdock. His God-given Rawlings instinct, the one they all counted on to keep them straight and safe, always told him the fucker was bad news.

  Two, he owed Nolan. He’d picked up all his shifts last week at their grandpa’s garage so Declan could cram and make sure he passed his finals.

  And third, he knew Nolan needed the day to make some cash. He’d been picking up shifts at the garage and side construction jobs a town over for well over two years, hiding the cash earned for his master plan to escape and see the world.

  Nolan didn’t want to sign a contract to do so. He was taking off on his own. Their dad and brothers didn’t know he was—at least if they did, they acted like they didn’t. Nolan never actually came out and said he was enlisted. He’d been forging letters and IDs since he was fifteen for various reasons. His talent in doing so, and knowing exactly what kind of paperwork to leave around the house, gave his family every reason to believe he’d be at Declan’s side. Only Nolan could pull off some crap like that. Declan was a straightforward son of a bitch and proud of it. In the long run, Declan knew he’d catch hell for the cover-up, and he was ready for it.

  Nolan was leaving on his adventure—no matter what anyone said. Declan wanted to know exactly what Nolan was up to—ratting Nolan out would only leave Declan in the dark on the master escape plan Nolan had. To say the least, Declan was not a fan of this off the grid scheme Nolan had, at all. Declan would explain as much to their father when he figured this all out and railed at Declan for not speaking up.

  No matter what, if you were a Rawlings, even the few and far between girl cousins, you left the town of Bradyville at eighteen, you figured out who you were outside of the family. It was tradition. Nolan was just doing it his own way; the way he did everything.

  For the most part, for some godforsaken reason, the Rawlings also made their way back to Bradyville when the adventure was had, when their call had been answered.

  Most southern families, especially large ones, had reunions once a year or so. Theirs didn’t. They had a Rawlings Rally every year. Unless you were deployed or dead, you better make your way to Grunt Bar, proudly owned by Declan’s father, every July.

  Come late August, the first leg of Nolan’s adventure would be over, and Declan would be out of boot camp. Declan was hoping Nolan’s choices and Declan’s cover-up would be downplayed a bit; he was counting on it. Right about then, family and friends would be too pumped to see everyone, to spend days at the bar and on the river, with BBQ and beer that never ended. Hopefully, the pair of them would only be ragged about how they went about their summers.

  Their grandfather gave Nolan and Declan the idea to plan it that way when he noticed how many shifts they were swapping and the bullshit excuses they were pulling to do so. He simply said, “Whatever hell you two are up to that’s gonna piss your daddy off, wait til’ the Rally to tell ‘em. I’m too old to be settling all of your tempers for you.”

  After hearing as much, Nolan swapped his plans up. Instead of flying overseas with a buddy after they walked the line, they were going to wait until August. Until then, Nolan was headed to the mountains, then north through Canada before making his way back for the Rally. The road trip of trips as he called it—even though it was more like as far as he could get and as much as he could see in a truck in the few months’ time he had.

  Filling in for one another with school deals, and sometimes family ones, wasn’t odd for Declan and Nolan.

  Declan was the second oldest of five boys, he and Nolan were not even a year apart. Nolan was younger, born months too early.

  He almost died. But as their daddy always said, Nolan, like all his boys, was a fighter—only he had to fight a bit harder straight outta the gate.

  Nolan and Declan favored each other. More than a few people assumed they were twins. Some close to their family even claimed they were, only they said Declan was the early one—because he was the fighter. Nolan? He was just good people. The kinda guy who was happy to be alive. A smile never really left his eyes. Declan always liked a degree of control. An order. Something he could count on. Nolan was born thinking the world was an adventure he had to soak up to survive.

  Out of all the brothers and cousins, they were the tightest, which made no sense to most of the family. Declan proudly wore the asshole name badge. He was the one who put up with no one’s BS. Not only could he handle Nolan, but he was also the only one Nolan cared to listen to.

  Declan gave up cussing the sky, and decided to hurry his ass up and finish landscaping the flower beds as he was told to do. At this point, he wanted to be gone before the storm hit. The one that was bound to fall from the sky, a day late and a dollar short, and the one that would happen if Murdock Souter said one fucking word to him—or worse, if he saw him touch or speak to Justice Rose.

  Declan would never admit it to anyone, but he’d had it bad for Justice since before he could remember. Since she was a knock-kneed, tangled hair tomboy skipping her grandfather’s church services to climb trees or go fishing in the river. Nolan was the first to follow her when he was no more than seven, telling all his brothers she was his ‘take.’

  ‘My take’ is a phrase all Rawlings’ men used when they were in a crowd and spotted a girl they wanted. The phrase had been around for generations and held more weight than one would think. But then again, words and rules as such were needed when it came to their family. It was too big, with too much aggression without such things—it was never good.

  It didn’t matter that Nolan and Declan decided girls were gross not long after Nolan had called ‘take’ on Justice, and didn’t see all the benefits of girls until they hit middle school—Nolan had said it.

  Over the years Declan asked him if he was ever going to withdraw and Nolan would just grin and shake his head. Meaning it was a bad deal that Declan knew what Justice Rose’s lips tasted like, really bad.

  When Justice would skip the sermon on Sundays more than one Rawlings always followed her and when they did they’d tease her about being a bad girl, and she’d spout, “I heard it already, he’s been preachin’ those words for days. ‘Sides that, he says I’m an angel anyhow, and angels have to fly.”

  She was her grandfather’s girl until the day he died when she was fifteen. She had never been her father’s girl, not even when she was little. He was always the one who came after her when she ran off, and he was never happy about it.

  There were more than a few bad rumors about him that had lasted for years, ones that said the face he had as the town alderman was a joke. He was a white collar drunk with a short temper; both issues only became worse when his wife hit the road when Justice was two—with a Marine who was only in town because his buddy was a Rawlings and invited him to the annual Rally.

  Declan had always been worried about Justice and questioned if all the bruises on her came from her tomboy ways when she was a girl.

  As a teen, after her grandfather passed, he seriously questioned them. Not the bruises he could see, because they were few and far between, but the pain in her eyes. He wasn’t sure if they were coming from her dad or that asshole Murdock who was always around her place.

  Murdock’s dad and hers were friends, good friends, and were quick to push Justice and Murdock together, which made Murdock’s head all the bigger and put a divide between Justice and the Rawlings’ clan. Nolan was the only one who was real with her on a daily basis.

  Declan knew he’d end up shredding Murdock, so he kept his distance. Their younger brothers were in different grades and on different halls so they never really saw her, not that Declan knew anyhow.

  Their older brother Tobias was too busy turning into their dad to notice—not that anyone could blame him. His adventure with the Marines only lasted five years before he fell backward out of a helicopter, moments before it exploded, and ended up with a rod in his spine and back home in Bradyville.

>   Even though he told himself not to, more than once Declan glanced over his shoulder toward Justice, who always had a book open across her lap and her headphones on. Each time he looked her way, though, she wasn’t paying attention to her book or Murdock who must have been pitching a hell of a game from the sound of things—no, those baby blues were always on Declan and each time he caught her, she’d blush and look away.

  The girl had ripped his soul out and stripped it into a million pieces when he was twelve, and again when he was fifteen. How? Easy. She’d kissed him then acted like it never happened, which left him grateful he had never fessed up to Nolan that he had violated his ‘take’—a claim that should never have counted in the first place.

  Declan doubted their first kiss was much to write home about. They were fishing, and it took him all day of waiting for his brothers to be looking in a different direction long enough for him to kiss her cheek—she turned her head in the middle of it, though, and he felt her sweet lips against his.

  They didn’t speak for months afterward. He was sure he hated her for the longest, at least until his grandfather finally asked him what the hell was up with his attitude and Declan asked him why girls acted like they wanted your attention only to ignore you once they had it. He laughed and said, “Son, if she’s ignoring you then she’s got it bad, trust me. And if you’re mad about it, then you have it bad, too.” Then he reached to tousle Declan’s dark locks. “You’re too young for that nonsense. Go on and play some ball.”

  Declan didn’t get it, not then and not now.

  At fifteen it was a different story. He still had no idea how she ended up there, but she made it to one of the Rawlings’ Rallies. Most kids their age always made their own campfire by the river and shot off fireworks and told crazy stories. They either ended up four-wheeling through the woods or fishing in the dark.

  Somehow Declan found himself alone with Justice on a blanket under the stars, and against every grain of loyalty he had in him, they went beyond an innocent kiss. He couldn’t tell you who leaned in first, who kissed back, just that once it started, it was damn near impossible to stop. But he did. He kept telling himself he was going too far too fast with her. And his daddy along with hers would kill ‘em both. Sometimes fear goes a long way at the right and wrong times.