Close To Home (Westen Series)

by Ferrell, Suzanne

  Dwayne liked people to fear him. The power rush felt great.

  “Good. Get the visit set up for next Tuesday. I want to see the boy. And do something about the judge. I want custody by Christmas.”

  “That may take some time, Mr. Hazard.” The lawyer cleared his voice on the other end of the line. “You do realize that is the Tuesday before Thanksgiving. Wouldn’t it be better to wait for the next week for the visitation at Ms. Lewis’ home?”

  Dwayne uttered a curse. They’d been through this more than once. He’d wanted to bring the kid to his house, away from his ex-wife. But the bitch had maneuvered the court to let the visitation take place at her house. He intended to make her pay for that.

  “I’m paying you good money to get things done quickly and my way. So far, you haven’t really lived up to your reputation or the fee you charge. I want the visitation next Tuesday.” He heard the man clear his throat once more. “Get me sole custody of this kid by New Year’s. Or else I’ll take matters into my own hands. If that happens, your fee will drop to nothing and the State Bar will find out about that little indiscretion you had with a juror a few years back. Got it?”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Hazard. I’ll get on it right now.”

  Dwayne didn’t bother with goodbyes. He pushed the off button then picked up the copy of his uncle’s will lying on his desk. He read it for the millionth time since the probate hearing.

  The old man had forced his hand. If he couldn’t produce a child by January all of his uncle’s estate would be divided between three animal charities.

  Animals. Damn the old bastard must’ve developed Alzheimer’s in the last few years to prefer giving all that money he’d earned to a bunch of animals instead of his only living relative.

  Well, the old miser hadn’t won yet.

  A cold smile spread across Dwayne’s face. He’d just get custody of one of Emma’s brats, show him off to the court, get the money, then ship the kid off to some boarding school. Once he had his hands on that money he’d lose the noose around his neck that Loreene and her old man had tightened since their marriage.

  He lifted the letter opener and ran his thumb over the edge to the point and back again. Of course, the cost of a private school for the kid’s whole life would probably eat away a big chunk of the inheritance. Maybe the brat wouldn’t last the year. Kids had accidents all the time.

  Of course Emma would try to get in the way.

  Emma.

  She’d always gotten in the way of his plans. From the moment he’d convinced her to marry him and support him through med school and residency, she’d been a millstone around his neck. He’d had to endure her naive thoughts about love, marriage and saving the world through medicine. During the paternity suit, she’d plagued him with phone calls and blood tests. She’d wanted him to support her and her kids. Well, he’d put an end to that. No woman was going to manipulate him. He hadn’t wanted those brats or her. He certainly wasn’t paying for them. Now, when he’d be able to profit from her stupid pregnancy, she wanted to fight him and ruin all his plans?

  He picked up the phone and pressed the speed dial.

  It was time to end her interference.

  Permanently.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Emma paced the front porch for the hundredth time since breakfast. Last week Dwayne’s lawyer arranged for his supervised visit with Brian today. Of course Dwayne didn’t give her a specific time.

  Just like the self-centered, sanctimonious jerk to keep me waiting. He always forced her to function at his schedule. He was a doctor after all, while she’d been just a woman with two jobs supporting his lazy butt.

  Why in the world did she ever put up with that? Well, this was a new day and she was a new woman. She wasn’t going to let him dictate anything else to her.

  She stopped her pacing and slammed her open palm against the porch baluster. She ought to pack the boys into the car and drive into the country until dark just to make her ex-husband’s trip fruitless. If it wouldn’t be defying the court order, she’d do exactly that.

  And how were the boys going to take this? She really should’ve told them about Dwayne—explained to them that the father they thought they didn’t have was suddenly going to be ripping their lives apart. She couldn’t build up their hopes then have them destroyed by Dwayne. No way would he live up to their expectations of what a daddy should be. So, despite Clint’s advice, she took the coward’s way out, and simply told them they were having a visitor.

  Frustration fueled her anger. She slapped the post again and again, blindly taking her rage out on the wood.

  Smack. Six years ago she’d walked out of a courtroom, stunned and determined to put Dwayne Hazard and her naїve dreams behind her.

  Smack. What right did he have to force himself back into her life and try to destroy it once more?

  Smack. Someone should shoot the snake.

  She swung her hand at the wood once more.

  Clint’s hand stopped her before she could inflict another blow to the defenseless post. “Whoa, Emma. Enough. That poor wood can’t take any more abuse.”

  The warmth of his hand encircling her wrist penetrated the fiery anger burning in her brain. She blinked, then blinked again, slowly focusing on the tall man beside her. The man who’d been beside her since before the whole terrible nightmare began.

  “Clint?”

  He turned her palm over. “Damn it, Emma. He’s not worth hurting yourself over.”

  She looked at her hand lying in his. It started to throb. The reddened flesh was swelling slightly and small slivers of wood beneath the surface peppered her hand. He touched one, eliciting a sharp point of pain. “Oh God,” she whispered, trying to pull her hand out of his grasp. “Damn, that hurts...”

  “Emma.” The warning in his voice got her attention.

  Still holding her hand, he arched a brow and nodded to the side.

  Mama and both boys stood in the doorway, wide-eyed.

  “How long?” she whispered to Clint.

  “They came running with the first blow to the porch.”

  She closed her eyes, trying to ignore the pain in her hand and her heart. “I wish this day were over.”

  “I know, sweetheart. I do, too. We’ll get through it together. But first, we need to get these splinters out of your hand.”

  “It’s going to hurt.”

  He looked into her eyes. “You can take it. You’re one of the toughest women I know.”

  “You’ve never seen me have splinters removed.”

  He laughed and led her to the front door. “Look at it this way, the pain will take your mind off his visit. Ben, go find me your mom’s tweezers.”

  “What’s tweezers?” Brian held the door open for them.

  Clint grinned at Emma. “The thing Mom uses to pull out the hairs on her eyebrows.”

  “Hey!” Emma smacked Clint lightly with the hand she’d burned the week before.

  “Oh, those.” Ben darted inside and up the stairs.

  “We’ll get some warm water and towels.” Mama turned Brian by his shoulders then led him into the house.

  Clint continued to hold Emma’s wrist. Staring into her eyes, he gently rubbed his thumb over the tender skin above her pulse point. The action distracted her from the pain in her hand. Heat surged through her and she licked her lips.

  “She’s having a good day today, don’t you think?”

  Emma blinked at his words. “What?”

  Clint chuckled as he slipped his hand up the inside of her lower arm then grasped her elbow. “Your mother. I said she’s having a good day today.”

  “I’m glad someone is,” Emma muttered as he led her to the door.

  Clint held the door for her. “Let’s see if we can’t take the sting out of at least part of this day for you.”

  A few minutes later, Emma sat at her table, her arm stretched across it, palm up for Clint to work on removing the splinters. Both boys flanked him, intently watching. He picked
up a warm, wet washcloth to wipe any debris from her battle with the wooden post. He paused, the cloth just inches above her flesh.

  “Emma, trust me. I’ll try not to hurt you.” Something in his voice and the intense stare of his dark eyes suggested he spoke about more than just removing splinters from her hand.

  She swallowed and nodded.

  With a gentleness that bespoke practice, he cleaned her palm.

  “Does it hurt, Mommy?” Brian asked.

  Emma grimaced as the cloth passed over a particularly thick piece of wood. “Yes, honey, it sure does.”

  “You was really mad at the porch, Mommy.” Ben didn’t look away from his fascination with Clint’s actions.

  “I wasn’t mad at the porch, Ben.” She inhaled deeply as another sliver slid out. “I was angry at something else. I shouldn’t have been hitting something when I’m mad.”

  “I kick my trash can.” Clint’s fingers rubbed the back of her wrist as he paused for a minute.

  Both boys giggled.

  Clint winked at her. “But your mom’s tougher. She likes to hit wood, just like those karate guys on TV.”

  That sent both boys into fake karate poses, followed by peals of laughter.

  Emma relaxed, her heart a little lighter. She still dreaded Dwayne’s coming today, but for the moment, she needed the laughter her family and this man shared with her. She was learning to cherish each of these tiny special moments.

  * * *

  The low-to-the-ground, shiny black sports car sped down the street and turned into the driveway. Emma watched through the large front bay window that she and Clint installed a month earlier. Her ex-husband climbed out and stood surveying her neighborhood. She didn’t have to look hard to know he’d weighed and measured her town and her home as beneath his standards.

  Six years had passed since she’d last seen Dwayne Hazard. His thinning dark hair was slicked back and he’d dressed in the expensive but casual style of a wannabe GQ model. Too bad he didn’t have the body to go with it. Anger bubbled inside her. He’d destroyed her life once, and now that it was convenient he’d decided to take one more thing from her.

  “Nice car.” Clint’s arms came around her and he pulled her against his chest in a comforting hug.

  “You know what they say about men with expensive sports cars, Doc.” She glanced over her shoulder at him.

  “No, what do they say?” His lips curved up in a half grin.

  “They need a powerful car to compensate for having a small...” Mama said from beside them, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

  Clint laughed. “And just who’re the ‘theys’ that say this, Miss Isabelle?”

  “Women, of course.” Mama winked at Clint then nodded out the door at Dwayne. “In this case it’s definitely true. Just ask Emma. If anyone should know, she should.”

  “Mama!” She couldn’t believe her mother.

  Clint laughed harder, then squeezed Emma tighter and whispered in her ear. “Are you telling me your ex needs to compensate?”

  She grinned up at him. “Big time.”

  Clint sobered as Dwayne walked up the driveway. “Here he comes. Remember. He wants something from you. You don’t owe him anything besides what the court ordered.”

  When he stepped away from her, she missed his warm strength.

  “Emma.” Dwayne stalked into the house when she opened the door. “Where’s the boy?”

  “Hello to you, too, Dwayne.” She did little to hide her sarcasm. She slightly turned toward Clint. “This is Doctor Preston. Clint, this is Dwayne Hazard, my ex-husband.”

  Slimeball extraordinaire. Her eyes met Clint’s for the briefest of looks, knowing the same thought ran through his mind.

  Duane gave Clint a dismissing nod. “Emma, I didn’t come here to meet the country doctor. I want to see the boy.”

  “Boys.” Emma fought the urge to shove him out of her house. “There are two of them.”

  “Well, I only need to see the one that will belong to me.”

  White-hot anger surged through her. “Belong to you?”

  A warm hand settled on her shoulder. “Remember the hand, Em,” Clint whispered in her ear. “The boys are outside, I’ll go get them.”

  Emma glanced at Clint. The quiet tension in his face told her he resented Dwayne acting like Brian was a possession as much as she did. She watched him leave the room before turning on her ex.

  “Why are you doing this, Dwayne?” Even though she knew, she still had to ask. Maybe she could convince him to leave before the boys had to find out about him and his plans.

  “You’ve had our sons long enough. Once the lab error was discovered, I decided I should get one boy. It’s only fair.”

  “Fair? That’s why you’re here? To get your fair share?” She clenched her fingers into tight fists to keep from grabbing him and shaking some humanity into him. “They aren’t communal property. You can’t divide them up—you get one, I get one.”

  “But I can, Emma. I’m their father. You’ve denied me my rights long enough.” He studied his nails in a dismissive fashion. His condescending tone reminded her that he never thought her intelligence equal to his.

  Emma narrowed her eyes and fought the urge to strangle the jerk. “I know you only want Brian to get the money from your uncle’s estate.”

  “I’ll admit Uncle Roger’s death has affected me, but not in such an altruistic fashion as you’re suggesting.” Duane parked himself on her sofa, crossing one linen-clad leg over the other. “One’s own mortality is a difficult thing to face. I realized I could live on through my son.”

  “Sons. Like I said before, there are two of them.”

  Before she could comment further the back door banged open, followed by the running footsteps of her sons and Hoppy.

  “Mommy, we taught Hoppy to play fetch!” Ben announced.

  “And he likes it!” Brian added.

  They came to a quick stop just inside the front room. Both stared wide-eyed at the stranger in their home. Instinctively they moved together. Two against the world.

  “Boys, this is Mr. Hazard.”

  “Hi,” mumbled both boys.

  “Come here.” Dwayne commanded them.

  Emma started to get between the boys and their sperm donor—she refused to call him their father even in her own mind—when Clint’s hands once again settled on her shoulders, stopping her in her tracks.

  “Easy, Mom,” he whispered in her ear. “Remember the court order. We have to let him talk to them.” Tension radiated from his hands. He wasn’t any happier about the situation.

  “Which one of you is...Brian?” Dwayne asked, obviously trying to remember the child’s name.

  Emma’s temper turned up a notch. The court had ordered her to let Dwayne meet the boys, but she didn’t have to like it or the way he was treating them.

  Silently, she watched her sons exchange looks.

  “I am.” It wasn’t Brian who stepped forward, but Ben.

  She knew her boys so well. It had always been like this. If Ben thought something would hurt his little brother, he tried to protect him. They were good judges of character, even at the ripe old age of six. They’d taken to Clint like baby ducks to water. Dwayne, however, would never get past their invisible wall of mutual protection.

  “Well, son, you’re going to come live with me soon.” Dwayne turned all his attention on the boy in front of him.

  “No, he’s not.” Brian ran up to stand beside his brother.

  Dwayne sneered at Brian whom he thought was Ben. “Yes he is. Brian will be coming to live with me in Columbus.”

  “No, I’m not. And you can’t make me.” Brian turned and ran out the back door.

  “I thought you were Brian.” Dwayne reached out to grab Ben’s arm.

  Ben kicked him in the shin then backed away. “You’re a stupid mean man. You don’t even know who’s who!” Then he too, ran out of the house.

  “Brian! Ben!” Emma ran to the door, with C
lint right behind her.

  “I’ll go after them. You deal with him.” He bit the word out with such force, that she knew he wanted to deck her ex-husband. The problem was, so did she.

  For a moment she watched Clint dart around the house after the boys. She knew where they were going—to the tree fort their grandfather built for them a few years back.

  “They’re mannerless hooligans, Emma.” Dwayne remarked with unveiled contempt when she returned to the room. “I’ll just have to teach mine to behave better than you have.”

  Clenching her fists at her side, she slowly counted to ten before speaking. “My sons are six-year-old little boys, Dwayne.” She took a step toward him. “What’s your excuse?”

  Dwayne stood. “My excuse?”

  “Yes. Your excuse for coming into my home, scaring my sons with news that you’re planning to split them up and destroy the only family they’ve ever known?” She took another step closer. “You don’t care one iota about those boys.”

  He stepped backward toward the door. “Now that’s not true, Emma. They’re my sons. Of course I care about them.”

  She poked him square in the chest with her finger. “They’re my sons, you sanctimonious, self-inflated, pompous ass! I gave birth to them alone in a clinic bed because, thanks to you, I couldn’t afford a regular doctor. I scrimped and saved to provide a home for them without one cent of support from you. I’ve nursed them through cutting teeth, bouts with the flu, broken arms, and losing their beloved grandfather—the man who helped me raise them.”

  Emma prowled closer, a mother lion in defense of her young. He bolted out the door onto the porch. She pursued him.

  “You don’t deserve the term father. That man that ran out of here after them is more a father to them than you’ll ever be. You’ll get custody of one of them over my dead body!”

  She took another predatory step toward the weasel. He stumbled down a few porch steps. “You touch me again, Emma and I’ll have you arrested.”

  “You get the hell off my property and don’t ever come back.”