Brick Armstrong Novels & Stories

"I had relationships." "Serious ones?" "Some." Amy waited. He looked at her. "But none of them made me want to change." Her fingers tightened around her cup. "What changed with me?" "You challenged me." "I argued with you." "Exactly." She laughed. "But you also saw me." His voice became quieter. "Not the CEO. Not the man everyone expected me to be. Me." Amy looked down. She understood. Because that was exactly what he had done for her. Everyone had always seen Zack Armstrong's daughter.

Liam retorted, "Mr. Blake, are you really sure that this has nothing to do with Ms. Feron? The police were there when you caused trouble at Ms. Feron's friend's shop, and I was told that you were being disrespectful to Ms. Feron herself. Did that slip your memory?" Upon hearing that, Blake had an epiphany. Immediately, Herbert defended him calmly, "It's normal for siblings to fight. Don't your children argue back home, Mr. Lawson?"

he muttered as they followed behind. In her office, Diana leaned against her desk made of glass, lost in thought. Medical care had already been given to her arm. She had a business meeting with the GRM representatives that morning, but she refused to show up looking like a soon-to-be-crazed woman. A knock came at her door. She snapped out of her thoughts. “Yes?” She didn’t even ask who it was. Zee walked in with a young ladies and a man, dragging a clothing rack bearing three sleeveless jumpsuits and sleeved shirts on hangers.

My brain’s screaming to look away, my eyes tell my brain to get fucked. Leo moves like a pure viking berserker. Heavy, hard, all brutal strength and zero finesse. Every punch he throws is loud enough to shake bark loose from the trees. His back is carved from granite and another wicked scar slashes over one shoulder that makes me want to ask how he got it and kiss it at the same time. His thick, messy braid swings when he moves. His sweatpants hang dangerously low, flashing the promise of a V-line that could lead nations.

But the little boy stopped in his tracks when 2Pac raised his arm and aimed a gun at the child that had emerged out of his forearm. “No!” Amy shouted while jumping up from the floor and grabbing 2Pac’s arm before he could shoot her child. She incredibly knocked 2Pac’s heavy arm down at the floor before the gun in his arm went off. When Amy knocked 2Pac’s arm down, she tried to knock the tall armored man in his chest using her elbow. Amy grimaced in pain when the bone in her elbow came in contact with 2Pac’s hyper-alloy chest. “Sh*t, that hurts!’” Amy moaned out, grabbing her elbow while dropping to her knees. Even after injuring her elbow, Amy tried to keep fighting 2Pac.

His fingers tightened around my forearm, locking down harder and harder. "It's true. The marriage certificate is at home. If you want it, I'll take a picture for you." I wasn't lying to him. Back when I was overseas, being a single mother had drawn plenty of judgment. My neighbor, a fellow Danarian, had been terminally ill. He'd wanted to give his elderly mother some peace of mind, so he'd given me some money, and we'd registered our marriage. Before his death, he'd left me half his assets and asked me to take care of his mother. She'd passed only a year ago, after which I'd finally returned home.

Justin says, distracting my thoughts. I know she’s talking about her mother. I would have done the same if my mom was as dedicated as her mom was. Tori did try to take me with her, the bond with my pack just wasn’t letting me. Justin reaches out and gently touches a fading bruise on my arm. “Is this from the Halloween party attack?” She moves her finger around the bruise, tingles rush over me, making me shiver. I nod. It’s from one of the attacks we got in my pack.

Maybe his resistance is supposed to teach me patience. “I’m a big girl, I can make my own decisions,” I say, folding my arms over my chest indignantly. He arches a brow, the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Big?” I snap my head to look his way, a smile creeping across my face. Holy shit, did mister broody actually just make a joke? “Hey,” I protest, watching his smirk deepen. “I may be little, but I’m fierce.” Brock pulls into the parking lot of the squad complex a few minutes later, taking his usual spot and sliding the gear into park and cutting the engine. He wastes no time in removing his seatbelt and throwing his door open, ready to head into practice without another word.

"You target different buyers. One Armstrong's firm wouldn't go for. They have a routine, and you just need to learn it." I'd already learned their routine a long time ago. They went for loud wealth. People who were also desperate to uphold status with their acquisitions. The kind of people who were prone to running themselves down with their own hands. "I heard you own major shares in Armstrong's firm. Isn't helping us potentially sabotaging your own investment?" Arnold asked. "And how do we know you aren't just obtaining information from us to help them?" That... That was a question I'd been expecting. I'd foreseen the trouble months ago.

Old Lady Armstrong felt sad for her loss, but she could not let go of her anger at Celeste because of young master Davis. Old Lady Armstrong had treated people all her life harshly. Even her son and daughter-in-law had to do things her way. Remember to mention Celeste's mother, Felix Baker, even though she had to lower her status to serve her as she wanted. However, she had lost herself to Celeste today and had to tolerate all these humiliations in silence. Old Lady Armstrong was furious, and she could only endure.