Clayton (Bourbon & Blood Book 2)

by Seraphina Donavan

  Clayton

  * * *

  There isn’t much to pack at the condo. The furniture is all second hand from either our basement or from Mama’s. It’s all so old and broken down it’s not worth renting a truck to move it. I’ve dumped most of my clothes in suitcases. Annalee will probably find fault with how they’re packed, and she probably should. But I don’t care. I just want to be home. I want to officially be back in my own home and have this shithole in my rearview mirror.

  The knock at the door is a surprise. I wasn’t expecting anyone. To see John standing there, I know something is up. “What’s he done?” I ask immediately.

  “He wants to make a deal,” John replies evenly. “And my expert opinion is that you ought to go along with it.”

  “Did you miss the part where he tried to murder my wife?” I ask. I know he’s not going to prison for it. I know that somehow he will get out of it, but it pisses me off.

  “He’s never going to trial, Clayton. We both know that. The DA is married to the daughter of Samuel’s golfing partner, who also happens to be the judge who would preside over this case.” I can tell John is pissed. He only ever gets all lawyerly and chatty when he’s mad as hell. “That’s assuming we could get a grand jury to even indict him in a county where everyone is terrified, in debt, or otherwise beholden to your damn father in some way.”

  “So that’s it?” I demand. “We’re not even going to try? This would ruin him forever, John. Completely!”

  John shoves his hand into his hair. “At what cost? You, your wife, your kid… you still have to live in this town. Is it better to ruin him and have everyone at your kid’s school know about it or to let him go quietly and preserve some dignity?”

  It’s true and I know it, but I don’t like it. Still, Annalee and Emma Grace have to come first. “What does he want?”

  “To talk to you,” John replies. “They took him from the hospital to the jail this morning, but he won’t be there for long. They’ve already called the judge to get bail set for him.”

  “It’s Saturday morning!”

  “Like it or not, people owe your daddy, Clayton, and they will move heaven and earth for him.”

  I throw the rest of the clothes in the last suitcase and carry it out to the car. John’s waiting for me there. I’m not stupid enough to talk to Samuel alone. That would bite me in the ass for sure.

  The drive to the jail is short. I’m not saying anything and neither is he. I’m pissed off all over again. The idea of setting eyes on him reignited the fury from the day before.

  “Do not lose it in here! For someone who spent his whole life being the calm one, you’ve lost your damn mind!” John cautions.

  It’s true. I was the calm one, but the last year has changed all that. We head into the jail and go through the ridiculous process of getting screened to visit the prisoner. After it’s done, we’re shown to a small room with a table and a few chairs that are clearly held over from the ̓70’s.

  Samuel’s face is busted all to hell. His nose is broken, both eyes black and his lip is split. It’s more satisfying than I thought it would be to see him that way.

  “You wanted to talk. Talk.” I’m not going to spend my whole damn day listening to his demands when I have no desire to meet any of them.

  “I want the million dollars you promised… In writing, in a binding contract. If you’ll do that, when they let me out of here, I’m gone,” he offers.

  “That deal is off the table,” I insist. “You lost your bargaining power when you tried to kill my wife.”

  “I could always try again,” Samuel says softly. “You work an awful lot, Clayton. You leave that poor woman alone too much.”

  I want to murder him, to ram my fucking fist into his face so hard that he’ll never get up again. “If you ever go near her again—.”

  “Let’s not be hasty,” John butts in. “Don’t say anything in here that you might regret later.”

  “I won’t regret it.”

  “As you lawyer,” he insists, “I can promise you that you will. When do you want the money?”

  “As soon as the trust comes through,” Samuel says. “And whatever is in the account right now is all mine.”

  There’s nothing in that account. The last of his expenses came through and wiped it out. “You’re sure we can’t get this to stick?” I ask.

  John shakes his head. “A million dollars is a small price to pay if it means being rid of him forever.”

  I know he’s right. The good ol’ boy system is still alive and well in Kentucky. It doesn’t matter how open and shut the evidence in a case is, if it’s never permitted to go to trial. If it came down to it, those crooked bastards would just keep issuing continuances until the son of a bitch kicks the bucket.

  “I agree to the terms, but I have a few of my own. If,” I am staring him dead in the eye as I say it, “you ever step foot back in the state or attempt contact with any member of our family, the contract is void. Not only is it void, but I will take you to civil court for all that you’ve done. The criminal court judge and the DA might be in your pocket, but I’ve got friends of my own that you can’t touch.”

  Samuel grins, the expression grotesque on his swollen and bruised lips. “You’ll never admit it, but you’re just like me, Clayton.”

  It’s not entirely true, but there are enough similarities that I’m not going to argue the point. It’d be an exercise in futility anyway.

  “Get the papers drawn up, John. I’ll sign them and then I don’t ever want to set eyes on this fucker again.”

  I walk out of the small room and it feels like I can breathe again. I’ve always hated him, even when I was a kid. I can remember seeing Mama cry, again and again …over the infidelity, over his cruelty. Emotional abuse wasn’t something I could conceptualize then, but as an adult, I know that’s what he did to her. It’s what he did to all of us.

  John walks out just a minute behind me. “You know that’s all bullshit, right?”

  “What?”

  “You’re not like him, Clayton,” John says. “You might bend the rules, you might even break them… but you didn’t do it because you felt they just didn’t apply to you. You did it because that was the only way to bring him down. The problem we have right now is that not a damn one of us recognized just how bat-shit crazy he really is.”

  “Let’s hope it’s not genetic.” The joke falls flat. But having just agreed to give him a million dollars of the money that is supposed to be used to take care of Mama, neither one of us is in a mood for humor.

  “You need to get Quentin and Mia to agree to this,” he say. “I don’t think they’ll balk when they know why. But still, based on the guardianship agreement he signed yesterday, it has to be all three of you or it’s a no go.”

  “I’ll see Mia tonight… I’ll talk to Quentin tomorrow. It’ll be taken care of by Monday.”

  John nods. “In the meantime, don’t leave Annalee alone. I wouldn’t put it past him to try something again.”

  After that, I drop John back at the condo where his car is parked and head home. Annalee is waiting with Emma Grace to go to her dance recital. I promised her I wouldn’t miss it for the world and I meant every word.

  “You don’t look happy,” Annalee says.

  Total honesty is a bitch. I glance in the rearview mirror. Emma Grace has her little pink iPod out and her earphones in. “We’re going to have to pay Samuel to leave town… Otherwise, he just hangs around like a bad smell and we’ll never be rid of him.”

  “Out of Patricia’s trust?” she asks.

  “Yes. That’s pretty much all we have unless Quentin comes through with an investor. He might… It could be a big turning point for all of us financially.”

  She nods, and then she simply lays her hand over top of mine. I turn mine palm up and twine my fingers through hers.

  “I trust you. You’ll do what’s best for all of us… You always do, even if I don’t approve of your methods.�
�

  “No more secrets. No more lies… In the meantime, I’m stuck to you like glue.”

  She grins. “I like the sound of that.”

  It feels like it used to, for just a moment, at least. “We’re really okay, aren’t we?”

  “We’re getting there,” she says. “It’s not a straight line back to the top, Clayton. There’s going to be fits and starts. There will be days when I’m still mad, days when I question everything you say and everything you don’t.”

  “I love you… and if that means tolerating abuse from you on occasi—.”

  She pulls her hand from mine and glares at me. “Abuse? Really?”

  I snatch her hand back. “I’ll do penance later,” I promise.

  “We’re supposed to have dinner at your mama’s with Mia and Bennett tomorrow. Quentin’s coming… and Mia told me she’s bringing someone you’ll want to meet.”

  “Who?” I ask.

  “Your half-brother,” Annalee says softly.

  I knew. Not his name or his location or his age, but I knew he existed. “When did she meet him?”

  “This morning… He’s from Ireland. Your dad definitely got around. And apparently he and Loralei Crawford are a thing.”

  “He came all the way to Kentucky and hooked up with his half-sister’s best friend?” I ask. It sounds fishy.

  “Don’t borrow trouble,” she warns. “You don’t know anything about him yet… And stranger things have happened. You met me dancing around a burning couch and told me on our first date you were going to marry me.”

  “What’s so strange about that?” I ask.

  “I didn’t run away screaming.”

  I glance back at Emma Grace who is singing blissfully out of tune in the back seat. “You can try that later. I promise to catch you.”

  “I love you,” she says. “Even when I was mad as hell at you, I loved you. And I don’t ever want to be without you again.”

  “You won’t. That’s another promise I’m going to keep.”

  PREVIEW

  KEEP SCROLLING FOR A SPECIAL BONUS SCENE FEATURING CLAYTON AND ANNALEE. ALSO, THERE'S A SNEAK PEEK AT BOOK THREE OF THE BOURBON & BLOOD SERIES, CARTER.

  CLAYTON BONUS SCENE

  CLAYTON: THE BEGINNING

  * * *

  Clayton

  * * *

  It's five in the morning and I'm still wide awake. I'm in the passenger seat of my car, looking up through the sun roof that always leaks, as the first light of dawn starts to filter through. I'm more than awake. I feel completely alive and it's because of the girl beside me.

  “Tell me about your family,” she says.

  “I already told you,” I say.

  “Tell me again. I like hearing about them.”

  I turn my head to look at her. Somehow, with mind boggling flexibility, she's curled up on her side in the driver's seat with her legs tucked beneath her. “My mom will like you... when you're ready to meet her. My dad... not so much. But he doesn't like anybody, so fuck him.”

  She smiles. “Tell me about your brother and sister... I always wanted siblings. It sucked being an only child.”

  “Quentin... He's just an asshole. A total smartass, but he plays football like nobody I've ever seen. He's really good. And girls love him, for a little while anyway. He invariably pisses them off and then they go psycho on him.”

  “Is that a family trait? Are you going to do something so bad that I turn into one of those crazy women they make TV movies about?”

  Now it's my turn to laugh. I'd have to be an idiot to fuck this up. “No. I'm not doing that... and I don't really want to talk about my family anymore. I want to hear about yours.”

  She looks up at the sun roof. “There's not a whole lot to tell. It's just me. I don't have a family.”

  “What do you mean you don't have a family?”

  A shrug of her shoulders is all I get for the longest time. “I don't know my father. I don't even know his name... no siblings. My mother died two years ago. So, it's just me.”

  I can't imagine being that alone. The idea of it terrifies me. “I'm so sorry.”

  “I'm not. My mom wasn't really.... well, when she had drugs, she ignored me. When she didn't have drugs, I wished she would ignore me. Trust me when I tell you that I'm totally okay with not having her in my life any more. I hate that she wasted her life the way she did, but it's a relief to not have her wasting anymore of mine.”

  The silence in the car is overwhelming. The weight of what she just said is tangible. Yes, my father is an asshole and he makes everyone around him miserable, but we still have my mother and she keeps that in check. She's made sure that we always had what we needed and that she was always there for us. And this amazing girl has had no one.

  “Now that we're both depressed,” she says with a self deprecating laugh, “I do actually need to go. I have to work today. And if I leave now, I can get a total of five hours of sleep before I have to be at the restaurant.”

  It's selfish but I'm not ready to let her go yet. “Just a few more minutes?”

  She sits up in the seat and, in one fluid motion that I can't begin to comprehend, climbs over the console until she's straddling my thighs, her mouth just inches from mine. “I have to go... but don't you think you should at least try to kiss me first?”

  “I want to do a hell of a lot more than kiss you but I'm trying to show off how much of a gentleman I can be.”

  “I'd rather you show me what it's like when you stop being a gentleman.” Her voice is pitched low, sexy as hell, and impossible to resist.

  I slide one hand beneath the hem of her skirt, over the satin skin of her thigh and then the curve of her hip. She's not wearing any panties. If there was any blood in my body going anywhere but to my cock, it just changed direction.

  “So is this no panties thing a policy you have or just a pleasant surprise?” I ask.

  “I hate panties. I avoid them at all costs,” she says. “But do you really want to talk about my underwear, right now?”

  She never wears panties. I've been sitting next to her all night long and she's had not a stitch on under that skirt. “You're trying to kill me aren't you?”

  She leans forward slightly, until her lips are less than a breath from mine. “No. You're no good to me that way.”

  I honestly think I'll die if I don't kiss her. Placing my other hand in her hair, I wrap my fist in it and tug her just a little closer, until her mouth is on mine. The softness of her lips, the taste of her when I lick the curve of her lower lip is enough to make me crazy.

  Her lips part on a soft, little sigh and the kiss deepens, takes on a life of its own. She kisses like sin. Like everything that is so bad for you but feels so goddamn good.

  She rocks her hips slightly and I can feel the heat of her even through the jeans I'm wearing. We're dry humping in a car like a couple of horny teenagers and it's the best moment of my life.

  I shift my hand beneath her skirt, moving it between her thighs and meeting nothing but bare, slick skin. God above.

  She breaks the kiss and I'm almost certain she's about to tell me no. “We could take this inside,” she offers. “My apartment isn't much bigger than this car and my bed is also my couch, but at least it's private.”

  If I do what she expects me to, if I have sex with her here in the front seat of this car or if I follow her into her apartment, I'll never see her again. So as much as it kills me, I'm not going to get what I want today. But I'll make sure she does. “If I go in with you, we both know what will happen.”

  She grins. “That's kind of why I'm inviting you in.”

  “And that's why I'm saying no... Because I'm not going to be a one night stand. Not with you,” I tell her.

  “So you like me too much to have sex with me?” she asks dubiously.

  “That sums it up,” I reply. “I want to see you again. And when I'm sure you're not going to bolt, then we'll spend the night at my apartment.”

  “Why your
s?”

  “Because I have a king size bed and we can cover every inch of it,” I answer.

  She looks at me for a long moment, clearly puzzled, and then says, “That is a compelling argument... so if we're not going to have sex, you should probably move your hand.”

  I do, but not in the way she intended. I slip my fingers inside her, gently grazing her clit. “I'm not going to have sex... I'm saving myself. But that doesn't mean we both have to suffer.”

  Annalee

  * * *

  When I first met him at that party, I thought he was just another rich, frat boy. But he was so hot I was willing to overlook it. Then he convinced me to go to breakfast with him. Now, I'm sitting across his lap in the front seat of his car and he's doing things with his fingers that have melted every bone in my body.

  I don't know what to make of Clayton Darcy. He's not who I thought he'd be and that scares me to death. “What's your game?” I ask him. My voice is breathless, husky, and I can't keep the tremor out of it as he touches me.

  “I don't have one,” he says and his fingers move deeper, pressing inside me in a way that takes my breath away. I grip his shoulders because it's the only way I can stay upright. “I want to make you come. Then tonight, I'm going to be at the Green Lantern at closing time to pick you up. I'll take you to breakfast again.” He kisses my neck, then my collar bone, the gentle glide of his tongue on my skin and the thrusting of his hand between my thighs is more than I can take.

  “I don't know what you want from me,” I whisper, but it ends on a moan as his thumb brushes over my clit.

  “I want you to say yes,” he tells me.

  “To what?”

  He smiles and shifts his hand slightly. Every muscle in my body goes tense. I'm hovering on the edge and he knows it. “To whatever I ask you for.”

  He's still moving inside me, curling his fingers in a way that makes my whole body quake. Those gentle brushes of his thumb over my clit are perfect torture. “Clayton, for the love of God! Are you trying to make me beg?”