Drake [The Texas Senator's Sons 3] (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Hennessee Andrews

  “Yeah, brilliant idea, mother,” he complained as he ruffled his hair. “Now they will think I leaked the information and hate me even more than they already do. Fuck.”

  * * * *

  At the Radcliff Ranch, Damon had watched a media circus unfold. Drew entered the back door of Damon’s house, yelling. “What the fuck is going on here?”

  Damon sat at the table with his arms folded, his hair disheveled from his irritation. “Someone leaked information to the press about dad and his mistress,” he stated calmly and reached for his glass of iced tea.

  “Just fucking great.” Drew sat down at the table. “I bet that punk Drake did it. That little bastard. I’ll choke his damn head off if I ever see him again,” he threatened and pounded the table with his fist.

  Damon scrubbed his jaw. “Hold your horses, Drew. I don’t think Drake is responsible.”

  “What? Are you crazy? Of course he did. You remember when he came out here a few weeks ago. He just wanted to stir up trouble.” Drew slid his chair back and walked to the back door and peered out. “These assholes better clear out.”

  “Man, I’m telling you, he didn’t do it.” Damon’s cell rang, interrupting them. “Hello,” he growled. “Oh, sorry, honey.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Yeah, it’s a damn nightmare here.” He watched Drew stomp past him toward the kitchen. “No, I haven’t called my father yet. What good would it do?”

  Drew immediately came back into the dining room. “I’ll call the fucker. He can handle this bullshit.”

  “Honey, I got to go.” Damon stood and walked toward Drew and removed his cell phone from his hands. “Love you, too.”

  “Hey, we didn’t cause this shit, bro.” Drew struggled to get his phone back from Damon.

  “I know, but getting pissed off isn’t going to help matters.” Damon tucked Drew’s phone into his pocket. “Beer’s in the refrigerator. Sit down and take a load off while I think of a diplomatic way to handle this.”

  Chapter 2

  Drake awoke the next morning in a fog. His mouth was dry and his vision blurry from his deep sleep induced by oxycodone. His pain was less than the day before, but his ribs still ached as he slid out of bed and onto his feet. The events of the past two days seemed to meld together into one giant mess. A quick glance out the window reminded him of what he needed to do. He needed a shower to start with, then a plan.

  The hot shower caused his tense muscles to relax somewhat, and he figured it was the first small blessing of the day. Now, if he could get out of the city without starring in a hundred pictures that would become front page news, he’d consider himself damn lucky. He remembered all the times he’d seen Damon and Drew’s pictures splashed in the headlines. Generally, it was Drew, the one he considered most like him. His favorite picture of Drew was when he was caught flipping the bird, and the headline basically said it was directed toward the senator. Drake had no idea who the salute was for, but seriously doubted what the reporter said was fact.

  Thinking of his brothers and the relationship they might have was becoming a real bummer on his attitude. He couldn’t force them to accept him. Thinking about it did nothing more than to make him miserable. Forcing the thoughts out of his head, he rinsed and stepped out of the shower. It was time to pack and get the hell out of Dodge, so to speak. The nice aspect of having little family was having the luxury of no one to notify of his absence. He’d already informed his grandmother of his intentions, and as far as his drinking buddies, well, they’d get along fine without him.

  Drake packed a suitcase with the basic necessities. He shut off the lights after he gave one last look around. It didn’t even bother him to walk away. There was just one more matter of business to attend to before he hit the road and allowed his truck to take him far away.

  When the door to the elevator opened on the main floor, a frenzy of people and cameras swarmed around. He doubted he’d be as lucky today. A feeling of dread poured through him as he searched for a clear way out.

  “Drake, come on, buddy.” The doorman grabbed his arm and jerked him into the manager’s office and shut the door behind them. “I’m going to take you out the back entrance. They’re waiting for you out there.”

  Drake exhaled a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Eric.”

  The doorman was a guy Drake had spent many late nights chatting with when he came home from a night out on the town. Eric was a good guy. He worked hard and kept him rolling in laughter most all of the time. Now, he was here for him again, and Eric was his last order of business.

  Eric led him to the back door that opened to the alley. “Man, it’s been awesome knowing you. I’m sure you’re looking to get out of town for a while, and I don’t blame you. Good luck.” He smiled and shook Drake’s hand.

  “Eric, it has been a pleasure.” Drake pulled a key off his ring. “The place is yours for the next six months. Everything is paid up. Make me proud.” He handed the key to Eric.

  Eric grinned. “Thanks, and if anyone asks me…I don’t know who in the hell you are.”

  Drake gave him a manly pat on the back and exited the door while putting on his sunglasses. He needed to make it to his truck without being noticed. He walked down the alleyway, figuring any good reporter would know enough to cover all entrances and exits. He looked both ways and jogged across the street, pulling his suitcase behind him. At his truck he threw his suitcase into the bed and groaned while holding his ribs with his other hand. Maybe smacking a telephone pole wasn’t such a good idea after all. He winced while opening the truck door.

  When the door shut, he heard the muffled shouts of a man across the street. “Son of a bitch!” He started the engine and quickly pulled his seat belt around him.

  The man began to run across the road with his camera ready. Drake flipped him the bird about the time he clicked. “That’s for you, Drew.” He chuckled and gunned the truck past a sea of reporters that had filed outside of his apartment complex. “Pricks.”

  * * * *

  “Don’t do it, man. I’m warning you,” Drew said in a loud, gruff voice as Damon dialed his phone.

  “Back off, Drew,” Damon replied while waiting for an answer.

  “Fuck this.” Drew threw up his hands and slammed the back door as he left.

  “No, I didn’t leak the information if that’s why you’re calling,” Drake answered.

  “Whatever happened to hello as a greeting?” Damon shook his head. The guy was so much like Drew.

  “That’s why you’re calling. Just admit it,” Drake barked sarcastically on the other end.

  “I personally don’t think you did, but what kind of brother would I be if I didn’t ask?” Damon ran his hand through his hair. The habit had become so natural, he couldn’t get rid of it. He didn’t need this kind of bullshit. He had a ranch to run. Currently, he felt more like a babysitter.

  “No, I didn’t. Is that all? I have important shit to do,” Drake’s voice echoed back.

  “I don’t know what kind of important shit you need to do today, but drop it. Where are you?” Damon paced through the kitchen, stopping to look out the door toward the front gate.

  “I’m at the country club, basking in the sun by the pool, having a drink, enjoying life. What in the hell do you think I’m doing?” Drake shouted.

  “Enough. Come stay at the ranch until we can handle this mess,” Damon ordered, beginning to get angry with him. Of course, after the last time he was there and the little scene took place with Drew, he shouldn’t expect anything less, but he wasn’t about to be put between the two.

  “No thanks. I think I’ll just keep driving and see where the road takes me,” Drake answered a little softer than before.

  “I wasn’t asking, Drake. Get your ass here now.”

  * * * *

  Drake signaled and took the next exit off the interstate. He needed to sit and think for a moment before he made any decisions. Damon made it pretty clear that he wanted him to stay at the ranch, but that sounded about as
fun as having both thumbs pounded with a hammer. Stopping to park, he sat back in his seat and took a deep breath. In all actuality, he had no place to go. Well, he could go to his grandmother’s. Nah, he thought, she didn’t need to deal with any of this.

  As far as he could see, he had two options. One, he could keep driving to…damn, nowhere. Or, he could go out to the ranch where at least he could stay in the circle of information. Did he really want to do that, though? Drew made it quite clear that he’d never accept him. Damon, on the other hand, may be open to the possibility.

  The longer he sat and thought about it, the more he realized how much both options equally sucked. He did want to clear himself with his brothers, because he didn’t leak the information. His mother did. He began to wonder if this was what playing Russian roulette felt like.

  His phone buzzed again. Picking it up, he looked at the display. “Fan-fucking-tabulous.”

  “Hello, Father,” he answered politely.

  “Son, please tell me that you aren’t responsible,” his father, Eugene Radcliff, spoke softly, yet sternly.

  “No, wasn’t me. It was your mistress,” Drake replied.

  “Don’t speak of you mother that way again. Do you hear me, Drake?”

  “Yes, sir.” Drake sighed and rolled his eyes.

  “I don’t believe that.” His father spoke loudly through the phone. “She wouldn’t do that to me.”

  “Well, I didn’t think she would either, but grandmother said she left a letter with her lawyer before she died, stating that the information be let out sixty days after her death.”

  Eugene cursed over the phone. In the background, Drake could hear ice clinking into a glass. Daddy dear was hitting the hard stuff.

  Clearing his throat, his father composed himself. “Damon said he has extended an invitation for you to stay at the ranch while we do damage control.”

  Drake barked out a laugh. “I’d hardly call it an invitation.”

  “Get there, now,” his father stated with an effective gruff voice and hung up.

  How old am I?

  Putting his truck into reverse, Drake backed out while mumbling. Although he was now twenty-four, his father treated him like a pubescent kid. “Asshole,” he grumbled again, squealing his tires at a stop sign. There was one thing he wasn’t going to do today. He wasn’t going to ask how his day could get worse, for fear it would.

  A half an hour later, Drake pulled up to the ranch and a sea of reporters milling around the front entrance. He shook his head while driving through the mess. Reporters clicked picture after picture of him just before the large iron gate opened for him to enter. Yep, it would be confirmed for sure now, he thought, as he drove down the lane to the house. His head pounded from the stress of the day while his ribs ached. All he needed now was a bed and a painkiller. Hopefully then, he could put this day behind him.

  Drake parked by the feed truck behind the house and sat for a moment, not sure he was ready to see his brothers again. Of course he’d like to look at that hottie, Liv, who was here last time. Yeah, Drew didn’t like him looking at her at all. If she was smart, she wouldn’t still be around. Nope, a woman like Liv deserved way better than Drew, he thought.

  Damon stood on the back porch with his arms crossed waiting for him. There was no sign of Drew. Drake grumbled to himself and got out.

  “Come on in.” Damon waved for him to enter, but didn’t smile.

  Yep, this was going to be a shitload of fun. Why? Why did my mother feel it necessary to do this? He stepped up onto the porch and followed Damon into the house.

  “Have a seat. Do you drink beer or the hard stuff?” Damon opened the refrigerator.

  “Beer works for me.” Drake looked around the dining room. The place was a home, something he missed since his mother passed. Damn, he missed her. He pushed the unwanted emotions out of his head.

  “I know this is the last place you want to be, but honestly, we all need to stick together in this.” Damon sat down a beer in front of Drake.

  “Thanks, and you’re right. I don’t want to be here.” He took a long pull from the beer.

  “Duly noted.” Damon followed and took a few pulls from his bottle.

  “So, how long am I expected to stay here?” Any longer than five minutes seemed too much already.

  “Did you have anywhere else to go?” Damon raised a brow. “I know you can run to the ends of the Earth, but that doesn’t take care of what we have going on. It needs to be handled and put to rest, so we can all go on with our lives.”

  Drake nodded, understanding exactly what Damon was saying. As much as it sucked, he was right. It needed to be put to rest. Where he’d go after the dust settled, well, he couldn’t go there right now. He pushed those thoughts out as well.

  “Look, I know we all didn’t hit it off exactly the last time you were here,” Damon started and paused.

  Drake chuckled. “Understatement of the year, my man.”

  “Well, my wife and I have talked a lot and what she said made a lot of sense to me.” Damon took a drink of his beer, like he didn’t want to say, but felt compelled to do so. “None of us asked for the father we have, and no matter how difficult it may be…I’d like to get to know you. I’m willing to try, if you are.”

  Drake coughed, feeling a little choked up. He didn’t expect this at all. “I’m game.” He didn’t want to let Damon know how much it meant to him and played it off.

  “Drew is a different story. I don’t think I need to explain.”

  Drake chuckled again. “No, you don’t.”

  “He’ll come around.” Damon nodded and turned up his beer again.

  Yeah, he’d come around all right. He’d come around with an uppercut and a left jab if he could. Drake laughed at the thought.

  “What’s so amusing?” Damon asked with a hint of a smile.

  “Drew. I know he’d like to pound my head in.” Drake laughed and actually felt the stress from the day start to let go of him somewhat.

  “True, so don’t give him any extra ammunition, if you know what I’m getting at,” Damon warned, pointing his bottle in Drake’s direction.

  “I’ll be on my best behavior.” Drake crossed his heart with his finger.

  Damon barked out a sarcastic laugh. “That sounds exactly like something he’d say.”

  After a little small talk and another beer, Damon showed Drake to the room he’d be staying in. He walked in and set down his suitcase. “Thanks.”

  Damon nodded. “I have to check the herd. If you want to come, meet me down at the feed truck in five.

  “Will do.”

  Drake sat down on the bed and lay back. The ceiling fan twirled above, relaxing him. The talk with Damon had been nice, actually rather pleasant. He could see that underneath his tough exterior he was a good man, with a good heart, giving him hope. Secretly, he was beginning to believe his mother may have known what she was doing after all. He’d decide later. Right now, he wanted to continue where he and Damon left off, and he also wanted to see the ranch, a place he’d only dreamed of as a kid. This ranch was where he always wanted to be, with brothers and a father. He was never sure how his mother would fit in. He just knew he wanted to be here and not cooped up in a high-rise apartment in the city.

  Chapter 3

  Drake eased into the truck seat and groaned. He slammed the door, wishing he made better decisions.

  Damon started the truck and roared to life. “I wasn’t going to ask, but do you want to tell me why you look like you’ve been beat up?”

  “My corvette wouldn’t fly.”

  Damon laughed loudly, making Drake smile. “Drew will be pleased to hear it.”

  Drake smiled and looked out the window. “I’m sure he will.”

  They covered two large expansive pastures, looking over the herd. Along the way, Damon pointed out some of his prize cows. Drake ended up giving him another good laugh when he said he didn’t know the difference between a heifer and a cow, or a bull and
a steer. Yep, he was a city boy who knew absolutely nothing about the ranching business. It was interesting to hear and learn over the course of an hour. Damon had a good time at his expense, but it was all right with Drake. He just liked to hear his brother laugh.

  It didn’t take Drake long to realize how peaceful it was out on the ranch. The cattle munched away with their heads down, their calves playing like children, bounding from here to there. He looked around, noting the tall trees, shade offered to large groups of cows trying to escape the hot Texas sun. The scene was one of peace and complete serenity.

  “Nice place,” Drake commented as they drove through one of the creeks on the place.

  “I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.” Damon stopped the truck when he noticed a cow limping. “This part isn’t so much fun. We’ll have to get her up and see what’s going on with her hoof.”

  When they made it back to the barn after a slow drive behind the hurt cow, urging her onward, Drew stood waiting with the gate to the corral open. Damon had called ahead, informing him of the situation. Drake couldn’t help but feel his nerves bunch up at the sight of him. He could have gone all day without seeing Drew. The cow limped into the corral, and Drew shut the gate behind her.

  “Are cows always so easy to handle?” Drake asked, only seeing rodeos on television and such, having no idea.

  Damon smiled with amusement. “No, but we work with these a lot, so they’re pretty gentle.”

  Drake stood and watched as Drew guided the cow into a squeeze chute, taking mental notes and trying to learn all about the new environment he was in. A vision of pink, in denim and boots, stopped his learning expedition. The most stunning female he had ever laid eyes on came out of the barn, wearing tight jeans and a snug tank top. He noted her slim yet muscular figure, and how the sun glimmered off the highlights in her dark-blonde hair. Wow. He watched intently, wondering who she was. It wasn’t Liv. Was it Regan? He hadn’t met her yet.