Claiming Cari (The Gilroy Clan Book 2)

by Megyn Ward

  I turn and look at Conner. “He’ll lose everything.”

  Something passes over Conner’s face. It looks like defeat. “Okay—” He holds up his hands to stave off the arguments he knows is coming. “Let’s table the crime spree for now.” He sighs, pinching his forehead for a second like he has a headache coming on. “I’ll book Templeton an overnight stay at Boston General. That’ll give me some time to figure this out.”

  “You can do that?” I say, still trying to reconcile the guy I know with someone who holds a couple of doctorates and a law degree.

  “Yeah, I can do that.” He looks over my shoulder. “And I can do a hell of a lot more if Bonnie and Clyde will just give me some time.”

  I look at Patrick, watch him give his cousin a tight, disgruntled nod.

  “Tess?” I say, giving her an exasperated smile. She looks so outraged, so pissed off that I want to hug her as much as I want to shake her senseless. “Promise me you’ll stay out of it—for now.”

  Tess throws herself back into Conner’s desk chair. “This is bullshit,” she says, shaking her head, looking at Conner like she can’t believe he’s going along with it. “We should be fucking this guy up, six ways from Sunday right now.”

  “Cari’s right,” Con tells her, sounding like he just told her that her cat died. “We aren’t kids anymore. We’ve got to be smart about this. Adults.”

  Tess glares up at him. “I hate being adults.”

  “I know, Tessie.” Reaching down, he snags Tess by her boot and pulls her toward him. “I’ll take care of it, but I need you to trust me,” he says, looking down at her before looking up at me. “And I need that video.”

  “I don’t want Patrick to see it,” I say. It’s a stupid thing to worry about. If Conner is any judge, I’m in serious trouble, but right now, it’s all I can think about. I can feel him behind me. Watching me. So close I can feel my heart squeeze in my chest because I know if Patrick sees that video... “He can’t see it.”

  Conner smiles. “I couldn’t show him even if I wanted to,” he tells me. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out the ten-dollar bill I gave him. “You retained me. That means I’m your attorney, Legs.” He stuffs the money back into his pocket with a grin. “Believe it or not, I take that shit seriously.”

  Seven

  Patrick

  No one notices when Declan slips out of the room. No one except me. The crazy thing about him is that despite his size, Declan is easy to overlook when he wants to be. When we were kids, he was always the last one in from a game of hide & seek and most of the time he just got bored and let us find him. When we were teenagers, it was his job to sneak behind the bar and pinch beers from the cooler. He did it a thousand times and never got caught. So, when I see him leave it’s because he wants me to.

  “Where did Dickhead go,” Conner says as soon as Cari and Tess go upstairs to retrieve Cari’s phone. I look at the corner where Declan was standing like I didn’t know he was gone.

  “I don’t know,” I say, shrugging. “Maybe Jess called. She’s been going pretty hard at this whole Bridezilla thing lately.”

  Conner curls his lip at the mention of his brother’s fiancé. “I can’t wait until she finds out Da gave it all to you,” he says, sitting back in his seat, his sneer slipping into a smile. “She’s gonna shit a brick.”

  Hearing Con mention the money reminds me of what Cari said earlier in the elevator. “Cari knows,” I say, sinking into the plastic chair on the other side of the desk.

  “What?” Con shoots me a puzzled look while his fingers fly over the keyboard in front of him. “You didn’t tell her?”

  I shake my head. “I didn’t tell anyone except Sara, and that was just to get her dad to draw up the papers.”

  “Which I could’ve done, by the way,” he says, still pissed that his dad didn’t ask him. “It would’ve taken me about ten minutes, and it wouldn’t have cost five-hundred dollars an hour.”

  “Talk to your dad,” I say, holding up my hands. “He wanted a 3rd party attorney.”

  Conner muttered something that sounded a lot like fuckin’ stubborn old man under his breath before looking at me again. “So?”

  “So what?” I say, even though I know what he’s asking me.

  “So, why didn’t you tell, Legs?” he says, splitting his attention between me and the computer. I want to know what he’s doing, but I don’t ask, and I don’t look. I’m sure whatever it is carries a mandatory prison sentence.

  “I don’t know,” I say, giving him another shrug. “I guess it didn’t seem all that important.”

  Conner frowns but doesn’t look at me. “My dad gave you a couple hundred million in cash and real estate. That’s kinda important.”

  Hearing him say it like that—put a hard number on what is now essentially mine—makes me a little sick to my stomach. “I never asked for it,” I tell him, even though he knows. Has to know that I never wanted it to be this way. “And I don’t want it.”

  “Poor Cap’n.” Con laughs at me, shaking his head while his fingers fly over the keyboard in front of him. “It must suck to be so moral and uptight all the time.”

  I’m suddenly angry. “Do you think I feel good about the fact that I took your inheritance? You and Declan don’t get a fucking dime—nothing.” It strangles me, the guilt I feel. “I feel like I robbed you and it’s a daily goddamn struggle just to look you, both of you, in the face.”

  “You want to make it up to me? Take me to Vegas and buy me a pony.”

  “Fuck you,” I grumble, slumping back in my seat. “Do you ever take anything seriously?”

  “Not if I can help it.”

  “Must be nice.” I mean it. I wish I could live like that. I’ve spent the last five days being an inconsiderate asshole, and I’m ready to shoot myself.

  Conner doesn’t say anything. I can’t tell if it’s because he’s too focused on the computer to have heard me or because he’s trying to formulate a response. “Look—Da did the right thing,” he finally says. “Don’t get me wrong—it sucks donkey balls to get the short stick, but I get why he did it.”

  “That makes one of us.”

  “Seriously?” Conner shoots me a look before refocusing on the screen in front of him. “Declan and I can’t handle that kind of joint responsibility. We fight too much. We’d use it against each other, and he can’t choose one over the other.” He shrugs like it’s a fact. “You’re the buffer between us, Cap’n. Always have been. That’s why he did it. Because he knows he can count on you to be the voice of reason. To do the right thing. Besides, it’s the family fortune—it was never really Da’s to begin with. You have just as much right to it as the rest of us.”

  I stare at him for a second, letting it sink in.

  “Is that why you didn’t tell Cari,” he says, shooting me another quick look. “Because you were ashamed or some shit?”

  “Yeah,” I say because I suddenly realize everything Conner just said is true. “I guess maybe I am.” I still am, but that’s not something I want to get into with Conner. Shame is a foreign, slightly distasteful concept where he’s concerned. “Templeton convinced her it’s because I think she’s a gold-digger.”

  Con flicks a glance in my direction and shrugs. “Isn’t she, though?”

  The question snaps my head up, has me narrowing my glare on his face. “No, she’s not.” I have to force myself to stay seated in my chair when what I really want to do is pick it up and hit Conner in the face with it. “And if I ever hear you say something like that about her again, you and I are gonna have a real problem. Got it?”

  “What?” he says with a chuckle. “No pony for me unless I behave?”

  When I don’t answer him, Conner stops doing whatever it is he’s doing on the computer and sits back in his chair. Smiling at me, he holds up his hands. “Got it,” he says, looking at me for a second before shifting his gaze over my shoulder. Turning around, I see Cari standing behind me. I don’t know how long she’s b
een there or how much she heard, but if the grin on Conner’s face is any indication, it’s been long enough. Fucker couldn’t mind his own goddamn business to save his life.

  Before I can say anything, she steps into the room. “I can’t find it,” she says, shooting me a nervous side-eye before re-focusing on Con. “My phone. It was in my bag but—it must’ve fallen out when I grabbed it off Janine’s desk.”

  “Well, that complicates things.” Con swipes a hand over his face before he stands.

  Cari looks like she’s going to pass out. “What’s going to happen now?”

  “Complications are my specialty, Legs.” Con offers her a crooked grin. “I eat this shit for breakfast—just keep your head down. Both of you.” He looks at me. “That means staying the fuck away from Templeton.”

  I don’t say anything because I don’t want to end up making promises I might not be able to keep.

  “I have to tell Chase,” she says, careful not to look at me. “I’m meeting him at Benny’s in an hour.”

  “No,” Con shakes his head. “You’re not leaving this building until I have a handle on things.”

  “I’m not asking you, Conner.” Cari lifts her chin, and even though he’s a half a foot taller than she is, I get the distinct impression that she’s looking down at him. “I’m going. He deserves the chance to get ahead of this thing if he can.”

  Something flashes in Con’s eyes. It looks a lot like respect. “Benny’s and back. That’s it—nowhere else.” He looks down for a second before reconnecting his gaze with hers. “You don’t tell him anything else—not about what went down in Templeton’s office. Not about my involvement. You tell him about the video, and that’s it. Got it?”

  Cari smiles, the movement separating the corner of her mouth and it starts to bleed again, bright red spots against the pale pink of her lips. “Got it.”

  Eight

  Patrick

  It’s the first night I’ve slept in my own bed in days, and I hate it. I hate being away from her. Not having her next to me, even if I couldn’t reach for her, I felt her warmth, the weight of her and knew she was there. With her beside me, I can fool myself into believing we still have a chance to get it right.

  Staring at the goddamned crack in the ceiling above my bed, all I can do is think about her. I want to hold her against me. Run my fingers through her hair. Tell her everything’s going to be okay, even though it might be a lie.

  I’m worried about her. I know I’m worried about the wrong thing. I should be worried about the mess with Lisa. The fact that prison is a distinct possibility. That my uncle gave me the family fortune, and I could be responsible for losing it. That the charity I built from the ground up is in jeopardy. That being my business partner could ruin Declan. The fact that whatever Conner is doing to fix this mess could undoubtedly land him in prison.

  That’s what I should be worried about right now.

  My family. My future.

  Instead, I’m laying here, staring at the ceiling, wondering what happened with Chase. How he took the news. If he blames her. I’m worried about how this whole mess is going to affect her job. If Chase will refuse to show her paintings because he doesn’t want to deal with the potential fallout. If Miranda will fire her for causing a scandal with one of her artists.

  “Patrick?”

  I raise myself on my elbows to find her standing at the foot of my bed, her caramel-colored hair glowing like a halo in the light of the hallway. “Are you okay?” I say, jerking the covers back so I can throw my legs over the side of the bed. “Did James—”

  “No...” she sighs, the end of the sound lilting upward like a laugh. “I haven’t heard from him since...” she shrugs.

  Relaxing a little I feel my shoulders slump, even though my adrenaline-soaked heart is thumping hard in my chest. I rest my elbows on my knees, running my hands through my hair. “Do you need something?” I say, trying to figure out why she’s here, standing at the foot of my bed at four o’clock in the morning.

  She doesn’t answer me. She just stands there, her fingers twisting in the belt of the robe I gave her, shifting her weight from one leg to the other.

  “Come here,” I say softly, watching her as she rounds the foot of the bed to stand in front of me. Reaching for her, I wrap my arms around the back of her thighs to pull her close, her knees trapped between mine. “How did things go with Chase?”

  “Good—better than I thought.” She lets go of her belt and lifts her hands to my shoulders. “He’s a good guy.”

  He’s a good guy.

  Hearing her say it is like a punch in the gut. Reminds me that I’ve been anything but these past few days. “I’m sorry,” I tell her, the top of my head pressed against her belly. “I should’ve told you about the money. I just—I don’t want it. I don’t know what to do with it. It’s too much. I keep hoping my uncle will change his mind.” I squeeze my eyes shut, concentrating on the fact that she’s here. She’s listening. Giving me what I was too much of a selfish asshole to give her.

  A chance to explain.

  “It’s okay,” she says, her hands weave themselves through my hair. “I heard pretty much your entire conversation with Conner...” She makes a soft sound that sounds like a laugh. “Which is probably why Conner pushed you into having it in the first place.”

  “Yeah,” I say, a soft shiver running down my spine at the way she was touching me. “He loves to meddle. Mostly because he’s smarter than all of us put together—so, he naturally assumes he always knows what’s best.” I look up at her, chin pressed to her bellybutton. “He knows you’re not a gold-digger.”

  “Maybe, but I’ve done a lot to be sorry for these last six months.” She traces the shell of my ear with her fingertip. I can hear humor in her voice, but there’s longing and arousal there too and the sound of it goes straight to my cock, and it begins to stir in response to her. “I’m sorry about the bet. It was stupid and wrong, and I’m sorry I hurt you. That was the last thing I wanted.”

  “I hurt you too.” I drop my head again and her hands skate across the nape of my neck. “Forgive me?” I say, my voice thick. Hands fisted in the back of her robe. I’m doing everything I can to keep myself from tearing it off her. She’s had a hard day, both physically and emotionally. No matter with I think I hear or what I’m sensing in her, the last thing she needs is me putting my hands on her.

  “Yes.” She moves, shifting one of her legs from between mine so that my knee is caught between her thighs. Her hands slide down the back of my head, her slim, cool fingers anchoring themselves behind my neck as she slowly lowers herself to sit on my leg. I have to suck in a groan when her skin makes contact with mine because she’s not wearing panties underneath her robe—my robe—and the feel of her bare pussy on my leg is nearly enough to unravel me. Suddenly her face is inches away, her mouth hovering in front of mine. “Do you forgive me?”

  “Always.” Despite my affirmative response, I shake my head, my hands fit around her waist. Either to lift her up and send her back to her room or lift her up and slam her down on my rock-hard cock. I’m not sure. “You’ve had a really bad day,” I say, still trying to behave rationally. “Maybe we should just—” The rest of my argument ends in a groan as she grinds her soft, wet slit against my thigh while most of my good intentions get tossed out the window. “Cari.” It comes out half plea, half warning and the sound of my distress kicks up the curve of her mouth. My heart is racing, the pulse of it hammering through my veins, straight down to my cock.

  “So, we forgive each other?” she says, her fingers tightening around the back of my neck, her breath catching in her throat as her hips make another rotation, rubbing herself against me. “We’re friends again?”

  “Of course, we’re friends, Cari.” I drop my head to her shoulder, eyes squeezed shut because the feel of her against me is hard enough to resist but if I have to watch her get off on grinding on my leg, I’m going to forget what the right thing is. “What are you doing
to me?” It’s something I’ve wondered a thousand times over the past week. The seconds I let myself touch her, the door to my self-control was kicked right off its hinges. I can’t close it between us again, no matter how much I want to. I can’t seem to do the right thing by her, no matter how hard I try.

  Her hands slide down my shoulders, my arms, until her hands are on top of mine, pulling them loose. “I’m trying to fuck you, Patrick,” she says in my ear, her hips grinding forward, a small moan slipping from her mouth as she puts my hands on the still-knotted belt of her robe. “Let me fuck you.”

  “Jesus Christ...” I turn my face into the crook of her neck, pressing my lips to the thrumming pulse in her throat. “Why can’t I do the right thing by you, Cari,” I say, my hands shaking because I want to touch her so bad I feel like I’m breaking apart inside. “Why can’t I just do the right fucking thing, for once?”

  “This is the right thing,” she says, her voice soft and urgent in my ear, her hand slipping lower to wrap around the hard bulge of my cock. “This is what I want. What I need—give me what I need.”

  “Fuck—” I jerk the belt of her robe open, slipping my hands inside, my dick giving a hard twitch in her grip when my hands make unfettered contact with her naked flesh. She smells like gardenias. Feels like sin. Her skin is soft and warm, and like that first night in my car, I’m drowning. Instead of fighting my way to the surface, I let myself sink into her. Push myself deeper.

  Pushing her robe off her shoulders, I let my mouth roam. Her jaw. Her throat. Her collarbone. The top of her breast, my tongue following the curve of it. My teeth scraping across her nipple until she’s gasping and writhing against me, her hand working my cock through the thin fabric of my boxer briefs. I have no doubt we can both come like this, like a couple of eager, horny teenagers but when she pushes me back on the bed, I almost cry with relief because all I want is to be inside her.