A Worthy Man

by Jaime Reese

  Table of Contents

  A Worthy Man - Blurb

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  The Power of Words

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  A Worthy Man

  (The Men of Halfway House)

  A story of two men and the boundless love that forever changed them.

  Vannguard Shaw has spent the last ten years serving a life sentence and adjusting to the ache of solitude. He accepts his fate, a sacrifice for the only man he ever loved and the one person who saw beyond his rough edges.

  Drayton grew up with a trust fund and pre-planned future, but an unexpected encounter one night forces him to abandon everything and start from scratch. He is now a self-made man and developer of one of the most sought after electric exotic automobiles in the world with a fortune greater than that of his birthright. Yet, he’d surrender it all—again—for the only man who’s still ever-present in his heart.

  After a decade and entirely too much distance between them, Vann is suddenly released back into a world that has been nothing but cruel. Drayton never lost hope they would once again reunite and pick up where they left off, but Vann’s stubborn nature and repeated encounters with a heartbreaking world prove to be a challenge.

  Vann needs to tap into his fighting spirit’s reservoir of strength and hope life doesn’t punish him for taking a chance. Only then will he realize his own value and feel worthy enough to finally have Drayton’s heart. And their chance at forever.

  ∞ ♥ ∞

  This is book 5 in The Men of Halfway House series.

  Although part of a series, this is a full-length stand-alone novel.

  Word Count: 124K

  A Worthy Man

  Copyright © 2017 by Jaime Reese

  jaimereese.com

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or in any means—by electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise—without prior written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author's rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Published by Romandeavor, Inc.

  ISBN:

  978-0-9907786-3-9 (Kindle)

  978-0-9907786-5-3 (ePUB)

  978-0-9907786-4-6 (Paperback)

  First Edition, May 2017

  Printed in the United States of America

  Edited by Jae Ashley

  Proofing by Judy’s Proofing

  Cover art and formatting by Reese Dante

  Photographer: Eric McKinney of 6:12 Photography

  Cover content is for illustrative purposes only. Any person depicted on the cover is a model.

  This book is intended for adult audiences due to language and sexual content.

  To anyone who has felt the impact of words.

  You matter.

  Words are strong, powerful weapons.

  They crush souls…

  and break spirits.

  But in the right hands,

  they inspire greatness…

  and encourage spirits to fly free.

  Drayton stood in his bedroom and gripped the edge of the dresser, staring at his reflection in the mirror and assessing every tiny inch of his appearance. His perfectly brushed dark brown hair didn’t have a single strand out of place and his close shave accentuated his square jaw. The dark blue suit and baby blue tie set off his pale gray eyes. He ducked his head, exhaling another deep breath.

  His focus strayed to the framed photo—a copy of the same image he carried in his wallet and also displayed on the shelf in his office. A candid photo, capturing a special moment…his only photograph of the two of them together taken by one of those pay-by-photo photographers at a car-racing event.

  He picked up the picture frame and lost himself in the huge smile that split Vann’s face. He had memorized every tiny detail of Vann in that image—that huge wicked grin that always made Drayton wonder what thought raced through his mind, the light brown hair hiding under the baseball cap, and the mischief in his amber eyes with the tiny flecks of gold hidden in their depths. But most of all, he recalled the unmistakable happiness of that moment, captured perfectly in the photograph. He cherished the picture and the flood of memories that always came crashing in. A constant, welcome reminder of the man who’d believed in him when no one else had bothered to give him a second of their time. The man who’d pushed him to take chances, who’d challenged him to have faith in his mind and abilities.

  A man who had sacrificed his freedom to save him.

  He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, reveling in the memories racing through his mind. He could easily pluck any moment during their seven years together and relive the memory down to the finest of details. He recalled every smug smile, every loud laugh, and each and every caress, kiss, and heat of contact they shared.

  All the money Drayton had pumped into the best defense attorneys during the last decade had proven worthless thanks to his mother and her strong political connections working behind the scenes to keep Vann in prison. But through some odd twist of fate, a very persistent legal researcher and his detective partner investigating an organized crime ring had managed to link Drayton’s mother—well, ex-mother considering she had disowned him—to their case. In the end, they had uncovered enough dirt to get her arrested. Thereby severing her connections and allowing Drayton’s legal team to finally break through her carefully crafted brick wall of influence and work toward securing Vann’s freedom. But there was no way in hell Drayton was stopping there. He was going to push to clear Vann’s name. In the meantime, it was enough to have Vann out of there and back at his side.

  Had it not been for her arrest and all the information they had uncovered during their investigation, Drayton never would have known how deep she’d hooked her claws into keeping Vann locked away.

  Why? That question had plagued his mind for a decade. He guessed it was simply to prove she could still wield that kind of power over someone.

  He shook his head. His mother despised him. She’d made her sentiments crystal clear many years ago when she’d cut him off. They hadn’t spoken in years, and now, knowing her role in keeping Vann locked up, it would be a cold day in hell before that visit ever happened.

  He took a deep calming breath. Final
ly, he could see Vann again, hear his voice…touch him. He rolled his head on his shoulders, hoping to ease some of the tension humming throughout his body. He couldn’t remember the last time he was this nervous about anything. He fisted his hand to still the shake, then ran a fingertip along Vann’s young face in the photo. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he recalled the seventeen-year-old memory of the day they had met. Always rich and vivid in detail, he let his mind return to that special time and place, reliving the moment again for the very first time.

  It was another hot day in the small Florida town. Too hot to enjoy any sort of outdoor activity. Who was he kidding? He’d been gifted with intellect, not athleticism. He chuckled as he pushed up his glasses and walked over to his spot by the tree. He preferred to read a book or stay up-to-date on the latest science or engineering breakthroughs anyway.

  In a town too small for a private school but big enough for a yacht club, Drayton had been labeled a “smart rich kid,” but the truth was he didn’t fit in anywhere in this town. Not with the jocks—his tall, lanky body prevented that. Not with the pompous rich kids at the club. Not even with his parents. But none of it mattered. At least that was what he told himself, hoping to fight the constant sting of rejection. He only needed to survive the last few months of his senior year.

  He closed his eyes and enjoyed the slight breeze blowing across his heated skin. At least, in his favorite secret spot under the tree by the lake, he didn’t need to worry about fitting in or plastering on a fake smile. This was his safe space. The one spot where he could hibernate in the evenings and on weekends and not have to worry about anyone or anything around him.

  He turned sharply at the sound of footsteps crushing the dry leaves. He sighed when three seniors ducked through the trees and entered his private little heaven. They must have followed him leaving the yacht club to escape another boring afternoon of forced socialization.

  One of the seniors yanked him forward by the collar of his polo shirt, knocking the book out of his hand. “I told you I need you to write that paper for Lit class. What part of that didn’t you understand?”

  Drayton swallowed heavily, staring at the bully through his thick-rimmed glasses. “I’m assuming your grasp of the English language isn’t strong enough to write your own paper. So I can’t fault you for not understanding the definition of the word ‘no.’”

  The bully’s snarl deepened and his grip tightened as he tugged Drayton closer. “What did you say?”

  “I guess all the hits to your head on the field have affected your hearing as well?”

  Another young man emerged from the side bushes and walked over to them.

  Drayton’s breath caught in his throat. That guy. The one he had spotted a few times loitering across the street as he sat on the bench outside the yacht club. Everyone in school kept their distance from this freshman with a school file rumored to fill an entire drawer at the counselor’s office. He always sat on the steps during lunch and never spoke to anyone, opting to stare off into the distance for the entire lunch hour by himself. And just when the student body began to question the authenticity of the stories surrounding his mysterious bad-boy aura, a blackened eye or bruised knuckles would appear on his body and quickly silence any doubt.

  He was shorter than Drayton, and it seemed he hadn’t hit his growth spurt yet. Although he was thin, the obvious potential for a thicker build was slowly making an appearance. Behind the mysterious, quiet, stoic demeanor, there was something about him that piqued Drayton’s interest. Enough to have him covet the guy from a distance and eavesdrop on every whispered rumor about the mysterious young man to try to pluck the truth from the myth.

  The senior released Drayton’s collar, tracking the young man as he confidently walked toward them, not saying a single word. He was dressed in his holed-jeans and a loose-fitting, worn T-shirt, tucked in the front and hanging loosely in the back. His light brown, tousled hair barely touched his collar and was just long enough to frame his eyebrows and almost-permanent scowl. He planted himself between Drayton and the three bullies and crossed his arms.

  “Leave him alone.”

  “Or what?”

  “You deal with me.”

  The larger seniors chuckled, glancing over their shoulders at each other while pointing at the shorter, scrawnier, younger man who didn’t flinch as they laughed.

  “You and what army? I could squash you in a second.”

  “That’s about a half second more than I need to snap your throwing arm right before the homecoming game, Mr. Quarterback.” The young, cocky guy jerked his chin up toward the other senior on the right. “And I’ll use the other half second to get at your kicking foot to screw up your chances at nailing a field goal.”

  The chuckles faded.

  “And you,” he said, gesturing toward the last senior in the group. “All I need to do is tell your girlfriend you stuck your dick in another girl. She’ll take care of the rest.”

  The last senior scoffed. “She wouldn’t believe you.”

  “I’ll make sure to add a comment about your birthmark so she can fact-check your pecker.”

  “Were you checking me out, you little perv?”

  “Don’t need to. Dick that small gets attention all on its own. The guys were signing you up for the Pee Wee league.”

  The last senior stared at his two friends, shoving them. The three seniors straightened and took a step closer toward the younger man who refused to budge.

  They were physically unmatched against the three seniors, but it seemed the threat had hit its mark.

  The young mystery guy had come to his rescue like a white knight from some silly fairy tale. And Drayton was eating that shit up like the most delicious dessert he’d ever had in his life.

  They remained in place, turning their heads slightly to follow the seniors as they slowly walked away and their footsteps faded.

  The young man dropped his arms and turned to face him, the scowl slowly softening but still lingering.

  Drayton’s heartbeat picked up a notch. “Are you going to kick my ass?”

  Those amber eyes staring back at him held a fire kindled by undeniable strength and resilience. The guy crossed his arms again, and his lean muscles flexed, offering Drayton enough spank material to last the rest of his puberty. “That depends. Can you help me pass math?”

  Drayton rolled his eyes. Mystery man solved. The guy was just another asshole demanding Drayton do his homework. “I won’t do your homework.”

  This time, the young man facing him rolled his eyes. “Shit, man. I said help me pass. And I don’t want something for nothing. You help with math and…I’ll make sure those guys don’t give you shit.”

  “What?”

  “Math? You know. More complicated shit than two plus two.”

  Drayton pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, trying to ignore the hint of muscle that flexed when the guy planted his hands on his hips. “What level…specifically?”

  “I’m going to guess you’re more advanced than I am.”

  “You might need help in math, but you’re not lacking in snark.”

  “Apparently, neither are you.”

  Drayton silently observed every minuscule twitch and shift. Seemed Mr. Intimidating didn’t like to be held under a microscope. The holed-jeans, the worn shoes, the faded T-shirts. The fact that he sat alone on the stairs at lunch but never actually ate a lunch always seemed to catch Drayton’s attention. Maybe there was something there. “I’ll pay for protection.”

  He scoffed. “You watch too many damn movies.”

  “Do you want the bodyguard job or not?” Drayton crossed his arms and scrutinized every tiny nuance of the guy, a habit he knew made people incredibly uncomfortable. He couldn’t help it. When he looked at something, he didn’t care about what everyone else saw. Instead, he wanted to know the underlying workings, what made something or someone tick. He didn’t care if the guy standing before him looked a little rough around the
edges or the fact that he wore a frown or scowl most times he saw him at a distance. He wondered about his story—why he always seemed sad and what had happened to cause the scuffle that led to the fading bruise still coloring his face.

  The young man stepped away, paced a circle, then stilled. He remained silent but a series of different emotions passed over his features, as if running through several thoughts or arguments in his mind. “I won’t turn down a job. But you’ve got to help me pass math. I can’t be held back. Can you handle algebra?”

  Drayton’s lips twitched.

  The guy rolled his eyes. “Let me guess. Are you part of that math club thing?”

  “I’m the president.”

  “You’re a nerd.”

  “I embrace my inner-nerd. It buys me protection.”

  The young mystery man smiled. A genuine, beautiful, breathtaking smile that brightened his entire face and unleashed a burst of joy that forced Drayton to take a step back to keep his balance.

  “So, since I’m working for you now and you’re going to be helping me pass math…I should know your name.”

  Drayton pushed his eyeglasses higher up the bridge of his nose as he picked up the math book and tucked it under his arm. “Drayton Delereux.”

  “You’re that yacht club kid. The one who sits on the bench every day. Why do you do that?”

  Drayton sighed. Yes, he was the guy who sat outside the yacht club, thumbing through an engineering magazine while his father played golf and his mother had lunch and tea with her bridge team to catch up on the latest gossip. He didn’t want to dwell on it. “What’s your name?”

  The guy cringed. “Shaw.”

  “Shaw what?”

  “Just Shaw.” The cockiness seemed to evaporate from his demeanor.

  “Even single-named rock stars are born with a first and last name.” He stared, waiting.

  “You’ve got some serious undercover snark hiding behind those glasses.” The cocky young man sighed. “Vannguard Shaw.”