Sway (Landry Family #1)

by Adriana Locke

  I chuckle, pushing back my seat. “Nothing’s definite yet.”

  “It will be, especially after that glowing endorsement from Monroe tonight,” he grins. “You’re a superstar waiting to happen on the national scale, Landry. Such a man to do things your way and not let the actual politics change you. It’s an honor to support you.”

  My gaze follows him, my breathing strangled, as I watch him walk away. If he only knew how much of what he said isn’t true.

  Daphne’s touch brings me back to the present. When I look at her, she’s watching me with her sweetest smile.

  “Need me to accompany you?” she asks, batting her eyelashes.

  “Yes, actually,” I say, taking her hand and helping her to her feet. “Let’s get out of here. I’ve had enough of this for one night.”

  Her grin tells me she completely misunderstands my point, but I’m not setting her straight here, not in front of everyone.

  We head through the venue, stopping briefly to shake a hand every few feet, until I spot Nolan against the wall. He quirks a brow.

  “We’re getting out of here,” I say, motioning at Daphne.

  Nolan stands. “Typically, I’d hate for you to bow out of an event early, but considering the circumstances . . .” He reaches in his pocket and pulls out my cell. “Here you go. Have an enjoyable night.”

  I immediately press the power button on my phone and go straight to my texts and shoot one to Troy to pick me up.

  A scorching anger starts to boil in my gut, the feeling I’ve been trying to contain all night threatening to spill over.

  “You are both complete assholes for setting this up,” I fire to the two of them, my voice a little louder than I would like.

  “No,” Daphne fires back, “we remember who you are. We haven’t forgotten all the things that are important to you because we aren’t brainwashed by some piece of ass.”

  “Daphne, shut up,” I hiss. Turning to my manager, I shoot him an icy glare. “I will call you tomorrow to discuss this.”

  He just grins. “Well, I happen to side with Ms. Monroe. You might not have liked our tactics, but this worked. Did you see the reception of the two of you? How well you were received tonight? You play off each other seamlessly, and tonight was just what we needed. It was priceless, Barrett.”

  Clenching my teeth, I say, “It might’ve fucking worked for whatever scheme you were trying to play. But God as my witness, Nolan, this conversation isn’t over. I’m just not having it here.”

  Grabbing Daphne’s hand, I guide her to the front door as hastily as possible. I don’t want to take her with me, but I sure as shit can’t leave her here. That would look bad and who knows what she’d do or say.

  Fuck these people and fuck this day.

  It’s time I step to the plate and swing.

  Barrett

  The Rover pulls into Daphne's driveway in half the time it should’ve taken. I didn't need to say anything to Troy; the look in my eye must've said it all.

  The sky is dark, but the glow from the lights inside the SUV allows me to see Daphne’s eyes. She peers at me, a wicked grin on her face. "I wondered how long it would take you to bring me home. Want to take bets on how long it takes you to get this dress off me? Hell, Barrett. I might just bend over and let you get inside me from behind. I need you, sugar."

  I run my hand through my hair. I knew this moment was coming and the argument coming up isn’t one I can avoid. Not any longer. No matter what it does to my campaign or our friendship, the act is over. "Daphne, that’s not going to happen.”

  She eyes me curiously and pulls back to get a better look. "Are you sure?" Her words are cocky, a challenge, letting me know that the choice I’m making will affect more than her ass . . . it’ll affect my career.

  She’s playing with fire. She thinks she can strong arm me into doing what she wants—her. What she failed to realize is that I’m past the point of giving a shit about her or my career. I just need Ali.

  "I’m absolutely sure,” I say, keeping my voice level.

  Her grin turns into a smirk. "Is this about the girl?"

  "The girl has a name,” I bite out. “But it doesn't matter."

  "Oh, it does matter. It matters a lot, and I'm sure you understand that."

  "Daphne . . .”

  "I’ve given you the benefit of the doubt to get your act together, to stop trying to . . . look like one of them or whatever you’re doing,” she huffs, rolling her eyes. “But if I go inside, alone, I'm going to have a lot of time on my hands . . .”

  My jaw drops to the floor. "Are you threatening me?"

  I lean away from her, almost not believing what I'm hearing. This is Daphne. The Daphne I fuck because she knows how this shit works. And she's turning on me? I knew she was a loose cannon, but not like this.

  "If you fuck up, my father will expose everything you’ve ever done. Remember—I know more about you than nearly anyone. And going down this path, the one of, you know, turning me down for a cheap piece of ass—"

  “Shut your fucking mouth,” I say, catching Troy’s glance in the rearview mirror, but I don’t give a shit about his warning. Daphne has crossed a line. “Don’t ever talk about her like that. Don’t talk about her at all. You know nothing about her.”

  She smirks, her head held high. "This is fucking up, Barrett. You might've gotten Daddy’s endorsement tonight, but don't think that will necessarily hold. One little call . . .” She presses her lips together in a pout, like a child wanting a new toy. It’s disgusting.

  "You aren't serious right now, Daph."

  She shrugs, her hand on the knob. "I know how these things work. Remember that, Barrett. I'm not some random chick you're fucking. Just keep in mind I'm not as stupid as you may think. I've been biding my time and making friends on the side. Just consider who I know and who's in my pocket . . . and what I’m capable of."

  "What are you even talking about? Why would you do this?"

  "I'd do this because I, too, have things I want to accomplish in my life. And I thought we were on the same page. But you're running around with trash now—"

  "At the moment," I say, giving her a heavy once over, “I’d have to agree.”

  She laughs, her high-pitched trill making my skin crawl. "Fuck you, Barrett.”

  “Let’s not forget,” I burn, forcing myself to breathe, “that I know a few of your secrets too. I may even have a few pictures somewhere of you with a white little powder lining your nostrils . . .”

  Her eyes dart around the car before landing on me, her knuckles turning white as she squeezes her fists. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “I wouldn’t be able to help it if my phone landed in the wrong hands and those photos ended up public.” I scratch at my chin in faux-thought. “I seem to remember a few, well, we could call them selfies, I suppose, that you sent me from a bathtub . . .”

  “Don’t you dare!”

  “Then get the fuck out of my car and forget my name. Got it?”

  She opens the door herself and slams it behind her.

  Troy looks at me over his shoulder and, after one quick glance, he speeds us away from Daphne’s house.

  Alison

  Lola: I can go with you.

  HER TEXT IS SIMPLE. AND I know she means it. She would be here in a second with her bags packed and ready to go if I wanted her to.

  But this isn’t a girl’s weekend away. This is me trying to find some space to breathe without things coming at me from every direction. Between Huxley’s photographer situation, Barrett being with Daphne, Lacy finding me at work and then losing my job on top of it, I’m just simply overwhelmed.

  I’m not sure what will happen if the incident at Luxor goes to the press. Will they be here, camping out on my doorstep like before? It’s not something I want to risk.

  I just want to sort this all out somewhere safe and quiet and away from anyone that would have any input into my decisions. Whatever I decide has to come from me with no influence.
/>
  Quickly, I type back a message to Lo.

  Me: I know you would. It just makes more sense right now to leave . . . him? I feel like this is all boiling down and I just need to get away.

  She responds right away.

  Lola: Just don’t boil down with it.

  I leave a voice message for my mother, letting her know I’m fine and that we’re taking a little getaway for the weekend. Trying to keep it light, I don’t tell her about anything that happened. There’s no need to worry her too. Lola went by and grabbed Huxley for me so she didn’t have to see me crying.

  My phone alerts me that the battery is dying as I slide it in my pocket and lock the door. I join Huxley in the car.

  “Did you get everything?” I ask, starting it up and backing down the driveway.

  “Yup. I guess. I mean, I don’t know where we’re going, so it’s hard to know for sure.”

  “Well, where do you want to go?” I ask, taking off down the street.

  He shrugs and looks at me from beneath his Arrows cap. “Why are we leaving, Mom? Did something happen?”

  I pat his leg and give him my best smile. “No, baby. I just thought, you know, me and you could get away and have some fun for a couple of days.”

  “All right.”

  He hums along to the radio, watching the trees go by. I try to pay attention to the road and not let my mind get carried away. My head is throbbing from being sick and crying, my throat still raw. My nerves are completely frayed as we get farther out of town.

  After a half hour, Hux looks at me, his eyes serious. “Mom?”

  “Yeah, baby?”

  “I know you’ve been crying.”

  My heart breaks at the worry in his eyes, the one thing I try desperately to never let him feel. I want him to grow up confident, knowing everything is okay. Not worrying about adult problems until he’s an adult, and if I can keep him from it then, I know I will. Huxley is my life, comes before anything in my world, and the look on his face destroys me.

  “Girls cry sometimes, Hux. You know that.” I try to laugh and play it off, but he doesn’t bite.

  “I know. The girls in my class cry all the time about really stupid stuff. But you’re not just a girl. You’re my mom. You’re tough. So if you cry . . . maybe I should worry.”

  “No, you shouldn’t,” I say. “Because no matter what happens, as long as I have you, everything will be okay.”

  He tilts his little head. “Did you have a fight with Barrett?”

  “Not really. It’s not anything you need to worry about, okay?”

  “You don’t have anyone else to worry about you. When I’m sick or sad, you take care of me. Who takes care of you?”

  His words nearly bring fresh tears to my eyes. I fight them back, but it takes everything I have.

  “I’m fine, Hux.”

  “Is this about the man with the camera? Because if it is, I’m fine, Mom.”

  Luckily, my phone ringing distracts the conversation. But when I pull it out of my pocket, I see Lincoln’s name.

  I only have a few percent left on my phone, so I answer it, figuring I can’t get trapped into anything big. But I want to know if something has happened over the girl at Luxor, so I answer.

  “Hello?”

  “Where are you?” Linc asks.

  “Driving. Is everything okay?”

  “Where are you though? Specifically?”

  “I don’t know,” I say, looking around. “Why? What’s happening?”

  He sighs. “For one, I’m standing on your porch and you aren’t here.”

  “I already told you that.”

  “For two, Graham just got a call that you were involved in some altercation at work tonight. We wanted to make sure you were okay before we tell Barrett because he’s going to go ape-shit when he finds out.”

  My spirits sink and I want to close my eyes and rest them, quiet the pounding in my skull, but I can’t.

  Huxley watches me from the other seat, not missing a thing. I have to choose my words carefully so I don’t panic him.

  “There was a little thing,” I admit carefully. “I hope it’s not causing you any issues.”

  “Is Huxley right there? Is that why you aren’t answering me?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you’re okay? You aren’t physically harmed or anything, right?”

  “No.”

  “Did you fill out a police report?”

  “No. I called Barrett to tell him, but . . .”

  “But what?” he asks ominously.

  “Nolan answered.”

  He exhales harshly and I know he too is choosing his words. “Did he fuck with you? I hate that son of a bitch.”

  I don’t answer him. I can’t say it out loud in front of Huxley, and I don’t really want to hear the words ringing in the air myself again anyway.

  “Ali?”

  “He had things to say, yes, that I didn’t expect.”

  “That fucker. That motherfucker. What did he say?”

  “I. . . . really don’t want to talk about it,” I gulp.

  “Where are you?” he asks, his voice taking on a level of authority I’ve never heard out of Lincoln. It’s so reminiscent of Barrett that it makes my heart hurt. “I’m coming after you.”

  “No, you aren’t. I’m taking Hux out of town for the weekend.”

  “Alison . . .” he sighs. “Barrett had no idea Daphne was going to be walking with him tonight at the Gala—”

  My laughter, a sad, heavy chuckle, stops him.

  “That’s not even the biggest issue, Linc.”

  “What the fuck does that mean?”

  “It means . . . it means that I’m overwhelmed and I need some space, okay?”

  “No, no, it’s not,” he huffs. “Barrett left the event early because he wanted to find you, realizing what it probably looked like, especially on the heels of the baby thing earlier today. And when he finds out about the incident with you . . .”

  I take a deep breath and hold tight to my guns. If I go back now, I’m setting myself up for heartbreak. How do I know the thing with Lacy tonight doesn’t just make Barrett feel bad? Maybe they want to spin that to make Barrett look better in the media too?

  I can’t back down. Not until I know for sure.

  “Let him know I’m fine and that I’m not necessarily running from him,” I say, gauging Huxley’s response out of the corner of my eye. “I’m just overwhelmed right now, and I feel like I need to take Hux and just settle down.”

  “My brother loves you. I’ve never seen him like this about anyone. He’s always been pretty hedonistic, to tell you the truth, and right now, all he’s thinking about is you.”

  I fight back the tears again. “Well, if that’s true, it will work out,” I sniffle. “Just tell him I’ll be back after the election and we can talk then. My phone is dying, Linc . . .”

  “Ali, wait.”

  The line goes dead.

  Barrett

  I pace back and forth across the living room of the Farm, my phone in my hand. I wish I had spent more time paying attention to her work schedule.

  No, I wish I would’ve made her not fucking go to work tonight. I should’ve been me, the man I feel like when I’m with her. I should’ve taken charge, protected her, made her realize she’s the most important thing to me in the world.

  I should’ve been her man.

  Fuck!

  “Why is Alison not answering my calls?” I ask Graham.

  “How do I know? She’s not my girlfriend.”

  I stop in my tracks, ready to fire off some hasty comment when Lincoln clears his throat. Turning to look at him, he’s sitting at the desk in the corner, facing the computer, his brows pulled together. He looks over his shoulder at us.

  “Hey, who was here today?” he asks.

  “I don’t know. Why?”

  “Humor me.”

  I blow out a breath, frustrated. “Dad. Nolan was here for a while with Rose, I think.
Maybe Camilla?”

  He nods his head, his bottom lip between his teeth, and flashes Graham a look before going back to checking sports scores or whatever he was doing.

  “I need to talk to you for a second,” Graham says, getting my attention.

  “I’m here,” I shrug, getting impatient. “Talk.”

  He lifts off the chair and squares his shoulders to mine. “Alison went to work tonight and there was an incident.”

  “Define incident,” I growl, a chill tearing through every cell in my body.

  “She was attacked.”

  “What?” I bellow. “Is she all right? Why am I just finding this out?”

  “She’s fine,” Graham says. “There was a witness, a guy she works with and I’ve been talking with him off and on all night. He’s filing a witness report now in case something happens. He saw it all.” He thinks a second before speaking again. “He volunteered to answer any questions you might have.”

  “Alison is okay though, right?” I say, taking a step towards Graham. My heart is beating out of control. I knew something was wrong tonight. I felt it. Motherfucker, I knew it and I should’ve been with her or had her with me. Fuck!

  “She’s okay. Really. She . . . um . . .” Graham winces. “She was attacked by Lacy McKay.”

  “What!?” I boom.

  “We don’t know what was said,” Graham says. “We just know what Isaac, the guy she works with, saw. And that was Lacy slapping her and then claiming Alison hit her back. But she didn’t.”

  “Fuck,” I hiss, grabbing my phone again to see if she’s responded yet. “I need to see her. I need to be with her. Where’s Troy? I need to get to her house.”

  “I’m sorry, Barrett. She’s not there,” Graham says simply.

  “Where is she?”

  “Hey, guys,” Linc interrupts loudly. “You’re gonna want to see this.”

  “Not now, Linc,” Graham warns.

  “Trust me.”

  “Lincoln, no one gives a fuck about golf scores, all right?”

  He casts an angry look our way. “Okay, how about this? Does this get your attention?” He bends closer to the computer screen. “I’ll wire you another five thousand this morning. If Barrett pushes back about the pregnancy, we’ll come up with fake ultrasounds. Don’t be bothered by that. We’ve talked to Lacy and she’s on board, ready to see this thing out until the very end.”