Make Me Stay: A Second Chance Romance

by Amarie Avant

  “You want the best for her.” Donavan surprised himself by saying that.

  “Exactly! Only the best.” The glare in his eyes read that Donavan would never measure up.

  “But you go about it all wrong. Why blindside her with the party, why not ask Avery if she wants your help with Baudelaire?”

  Alexander cocked his head to the side. They were two easily angered men, but luckily for Donavan, he’d always reminded himself that Alexander and Avery where blood, so he couldn’t dish out the ass whooping the man deserved.

  Donavan was trying to help for Avery’s sake. But the tension that was starting to build between them was proof that he’d sorely missed the mark.

  “Are you offering me advice on how I raise my daughter?”

  “Yeah, I’d have to say that I am. To be honest, I’ve probably spent more time with Avery than you have, especially when she was a child. Forcing something on her will send her running. And let’s just say, you stole my right to raise my own child.”

  “I did not know about the pregnancy,” Alexander gritted out in his defense

  Donavan sneered. He told himself to back away. Let shit go. But he snapped “So that makes what you did okay?”

  “What did he do?” Avery was at their side. Their discussion had been hushed, and they both knew she had relied on the tension and reading lips to eavesdrop on the conversation.

  “I made a few rash decisions,” Alexander stated.

  Donavan’s jaw clenched. He was no snitch and telling Avery that her father had threatened his and his parent’s lives would’ve broken her heart—more than he and her father had already done in the past. Donavan remained quiet.

  There was a glint of appreciation in Alexander’s eyes; as if to say he’d made so many mistakes with his daughter in the past that adding kindling to the fire was all he needed for her to be done with him for good.

  “Avery, go find the curator for us.” Donavan nudged his chin toward the other side of the room.

  Avery didn’t budge. But she looked as beautiful as ever as she stood her ground. “No. I can hardly cut the tension over here with a machete. Tell me what’s going on.”

  He placed his knuckles against her cheek, grazing softly. “Play something for us on the piano. The new song you started for me. Please.”

  The worry that etched her face faded. Avery smiled. “Can’t. The melody is still very new, Donnie and—”

  He placed a hand at the small of her back and guided her along while telling the closest partygoers that Avery had new material. And just like that Donavan had stolen the spotlight from Alexander and gave it to his daughter.

  She blushed modestly while sitting at her grand piano. “It’s been a long, long time since I’ve played something new, so bear with me.”

  Antonio, in a tuxedo and Jordan’s, came to stand next to Donavan as she got started. He took out his cell phone and pressed the record button. “Bro, my sister has that magic and needs to be in some-damn-body’s studio.”

  Donavan’s eyes were glued to Avery. Whenever her fingertips stroked the keys of a piano, he resolved that he’d never in his life become angry again. She was his world. From across the room, Alexander gave him a nod. It was enough to blow his mind that her father might shed the hatred he had for him. Then Alexander’s gaze narrowed.

  The smile fell from Avery’s mouth abruptly. Just as quickly as the melody had begun, it was over as uniformed cops walked through the grand room with Verdrena arguing about them not being invited in. “What gives you the right to interrupt our evening!”

  “Ma’am, Donavan Hardy may be armed and dangerous,” the cop argued.

  The busy area, with all the affluent guests, piped down. There were just a few hushed whispers.

  “I’m Donavan Hardy,” he said and began toward them so that Verdrena’s argument did not escalate.

  Alexander whispered something to his son then moved to Avery, whose hands were shaking as she tried to move toward the disturbance. He pressed his arm around her and attempted to nudge her back toward the piano, but she refused.

  “Um, ladies and . . . guys,” Antonio squeaked out as much of the attention had turned toward the Verdrena. “Let’s all head to the dining room for dinner.”

  Verdrena continued to argue. “How dare you come into my home, and threaten—”

  “Ma’am, we have an arrest warrant.”

  Donavan’s abdominals contracted with each step he took toward the hallway. By the time they reached the front door, Avery had caught up to him. “Go finish playing my song, AC. I’ll be back.”

  He gave a cocky grin. There’d be no blaming it on Avery not hearing. She’d read his lips perfectly.

  Alexander placed a hand on her shoulder as she pressed herself against Donavan’s side, taking his hand.

  “Sweetheart, Donnie’s right. Go back, finish your song—”

  “Alexander, how about you go back,” Verdrena argued. “Kiss all the ass, yourself.”

  “Verdie,” Alexander hissed at his wife. While the two argued, Donavan asked the cop, “What are the charges?”

  “Mr. Donavan Hardy, you are under arrest for the murder of Timothy Brown.” The cop started to read his Miranda Rights while pulling out his cuffs.

  “Couldn’t have been Donavan,” Avery said.

  “Why is that ma’am?”

  “Because he was with me last night. All night.”

  The cop was flabbergasted by her willingness to lie. “Mr. Brown died yesterday afternoon, Ms. Castle.”

  “We were together that entire time too!”

  “Ma’am, step back,” the second cop ordered.

  “Do not scream at my child!” Alexander said.

  “As a matter of fact,” Verdrena added. “We are very good friends with the chief of police. His wife, my good friend, was sick tonight; otherwise, they would be here. So, take that into consideration.”

  The two cops exchanged glances. How Mr. and Mrs. Castle went from bickering with each other to arguing in agreement with one another was baffling.

  “Verdie,” Donavan spoke up. “Thank you. But I’m going to go clear this up. I apologize for tonight. It’s all just a big misunderstanding.”

  “You did nothing,” Verdrena said as her husband glanced at her sideways.

  “Well, if he’s going, I’m going!” Avery held out her wrists.

  “Miss. Castle,” the uniform cop huffed. “Please just—”

  “We were together all day, all night yesterday. So, if he killed a man, I did too.”

  “I double dare you to put cuffs on my daughter,” Alexander pulled at his tie in derision.

  “Read me my rights; that’s the only thing you have going for yourself,” Avery said.

  Donavan stood before her. He raised his hand to sign but felt like a caged animal with his wrists cuffed. Don’t get angry. He told himself. This is a bullshit misunderstanding.

  “Stay here, AC, dammit. I promise I’ll be back.”

  “Well, I can’t make any promises.” She continued to argue with the other cop until Verdrena nudged Alexander.

  “We are having an event, Verdie!”

  “Oh, yeah? Well consider yourself sleeping on the couch,” Donavan heard Verdrena snap as he was escorted out.

  CHAPTER 30

  Salvador

  Salvador stepped into the room, praying to God Avery was lying for her old friend. She should’ve been tutoring on Thursday afternoon for the Ealey family, which she’d done for the past couple of weeks. The rich family had two terrible twin girls whose mother had the bright idea one day about having them attend piano lessons. That would’ve taken away Avery as an alibi.

  “Here we are again,” Salvador spoke. He sat across from the man who had been inferior to him in the past with tats and a southern twang. Now, Hardy was dressed to impress.

  “Yup, here we are. Avery wasn't with me yesterday afternoon.”

  Salvador's lips twitched. The motherfucker had the gall to bring up his wom
an. “That so? Now, do you have some mysterious alibi that I should waste my time checking into?”

  Donavan’s gaze went to the ceiling as he contemplated. Then he sat up straight. “Nah, not really.”

  “So, yesterday afternoon between the hours of two and four p.m., you have no idea where you were?”

  Donavan touched a hand to his forehead. “Slipped my mind. Not a clue.”

  This was transpiring just as Salvador had planned. By bribing Palmer’s son, Raymond, he’d learned that Donavan was going to do one last gig for Elroy Palmer. Raymond had told Salvador about the exact time Donavan would be meeting with Elroy. So Salvador murdered Brown at the precise time Donavan was in his meeting. Who gave a damn about Brown? If Salvador could pin it on Donavan, good. If he couldn’t, he would rest well knowing that Avery became aware of Donavan’s dealings with Palmer.

  Brown was just one variable in his master plan. He baited Donavan. “Did you happen to be at 1247 Elgin Avenue—”

  “Nope. Can’t reckon I know where that is either.”

  Salvador grinned. “Let me show you something.”

  He stood up, went to the door and exited. Through the two-way mirror, he glared at Donavan. You’re done playing cool, cabron.

  “You want him to sweat it out?” Officer Howard asked.

  The tension in Salvador’s demeanor faded. He hadn’t noticed the man sitting there. Nodding his head to the kiss ass, he said, “Go grab evidence 1A.”

  Howard nodded and exited. Eyes narrowed, Salvador glowered at Donavan through the glass. The slim ball was twiddling his fingers. Intuition told him to wait. To return to the room guns blazing—i.e., with evidence. It would’ve been all the ammunition he needed to toss the book at Hardy. But he hastily yanked at the top button of his linen shirt and barged back into the interrogation room.

  “We both know Avery is important. Me fucking it up over some little shit.”

  Donavan shook his head. “Nah. You’ve got the wrong man.”

  It took every ounce of energy to preserve himself from reaching over and strangling Hardy.

  “Brown was harassing Ms. Castle. You fought him this past Memorial Day weekend, did you not?”

  Donavan chuckled. “Wasn’t much of a fight.”

  “But you didn’t have time to finish him off a month ago. So, you went back to his home. He was shot execution style with a .9-millimeter, Hardy! We had a warrant, searched through your house about an hour ago. Guess what we found?” Salvador paused, letting it all sink in.

  Donavan blinked. Obviously, the same type of gun.

  “Once ballistics is finished, I won’t need you to say anything. So, talk to me, let me help you now. It’s now or never!”

  “If I wanted to kill him, do you think I would need a gun!” Hardy held up his bare hands.

  Their eyes clicked. A dark storm raged through them both as if Hardy was letting Salvador know that those hands needed no aiding, no assistance. Salvador felt like vomiting when he thought about how Hardy stole his woman. A silent warning was passed between the two.

  This was more than personal.

  With Hardy being such a hot pistol, Salvador continued grilling him, trying to make him crack. “Tell me how you—”

  “Come to think of it,” Donavan smirked. “I’ll just wait for my lawyer. And we won’t be needing you. Seems like a conflict of interest, wouldn’t you say?”

  The door was yanked open. Salvador whipped around, but Howard didn’t have anything in his hands. The cop cocked his head.

  Legs stiff as boards, the detective stood and pushed through the door, coming to a standstill in the viewing room with Howard. Salvador’s eyes brightened when he saw none other than Alexander Castle.

  “What do you have on him?” Alexander inquired.

  Salvador pressed a stiff index finger against the steel table. “Excuse me, why are you—”

  Alexander held up a hand to silence him. He reached inside his silk tuxedo and pulled out a cell phone.

  “Chief Raynor’s wife is sick, pretty much everyone in the station is aware of this. I called him about thirty minutes ago. Raynor was pissed. Needless to say, there are two rookie cops on an extended vacation—not paid. Would you like me to put Raynor through the trouble of calling him to ask about you too?”

  Salvador’s eye twitched.

  “See, son, I remember the moment you went falling all over my child. She and I were headed to dinner, or was it from? The dynamics have gotten away from me, but I recall how opportunistic you were. And I promised to my daughter that I wouldn’t complete the standard check—ensure that everything was kosher—which would’ve probably saved us all some heartache, mainly you.” Alexander’s stiff lips creased upwards at the side. “Now, did you just ruin my wife’s event for no reason? Or do you have something on Hardy?”

  Salvador cleared his throat. “We have motive.”

  “Motive? The motive to murder that little bitch who tried to accost my daughter,” Alexander laughed. “Then I’m just as much of a suspect.”

  With a frown, Salvador further elaborated. “And Donavan has a .9 millimeter registered to him, which is the same type of gun that murdered Brown.”

  Rolling his eyes, Alexander rubbed a hand over his face. “Let him out.”

  Hands balled at his sides, Salvador cocked a brow, unsure what he heard.

  Taking a few steps forward, Alexander directed his gaze right onto Salvador. “I’m the motherfucking Chief of Police, let his ass out.”

  Howard was already beginning to move toward the door of the interrogation room. With a pep in his step, Alexander headed for the door. Mission accomplished.

  Unable to move due to the rage consuming his soul, Salvador watched through the two-way mirror as Howard communicated with Hardy.

  He half expected Avery to force herself as Hardy’s alibi, but Salvador knew where both were at the given time that he murdered Brown. With Hardy unwilling to fess up to being in the company of Palmer, Salvador took that as a reason to continue holding his cards close.

  He didn’t know exactly what the hick had assigned Hardy to do, but any ties to Palmer was bad for the fool.

  Salvador wasn’t out of the game though. He’d just have to go home, glance at his suspect board, and shuffle around some ideas until he could play his next move.

  CHAPTER 31

  Avery

  The stars were bright in the sky when Donavan and Avery arrived at the guesthouse after parting ways with her father. No one had said a word during the ride home from the police station.

  The moment they entered the house, Avery flicked on the lights as she headed up the stairs with Donavan at her rear. Tonight, had been the worst. They were having such a good time. The moment was dashed away. She walked toward the bedroom, contemplating how she was beginning to pour her heart out into the piano. The song had been for Donavan and their son . . .

  The shutters to the bedroom slammed shut as she yanked the string. Avery took a deep breath and began to reach for the zipper at the nape of her neck. Her fingers crashed into Donavan’s, and she shuddered.

  “What’s wrong?” He blurted. He then came around and signed the words.

  She shook her head. Donavan hadn’t done a thing wrong. In fact, Avery was willing to bet that her father was behind this, but that would make her seem paranoid. Donavan wasn’t aware of her stint at Sunnymead Resort. Rubbing a hand over her face, she mumbled, “Nothing.”

  His hands rubbed over the backs of hers, pulling her hands away from her face. Donavan said, “I’m sorry for ruining your parents’ party.”

  “Donnie, you didn’t ruin the party. My parents have attended events where some big political figure was called out and indicted for this, that, and the other.” Her gaze lowered, and her eyebrows kneaded together pensively.

  What if it wasn’t Dad? She thought, as images of Donavan turning into Hulk smash on the two guys who had accosted her in his presence. Avery’s shrink may not have been the reason she finally s
traightened up and played the part of some sane and not emotionally driven person, but the therapist had gotten one thing through her head.

  Don’t get overly suspicious, examine all the facts. Donavan smashing Timothy Brown’s face in made her wince. Had she not been there, he could’ve . . . murdered the man. Sheesh, AC, had Donnie not been there, you would’ve had to handle yourself!

  “Avery,” he said, gazing deeply into her eyes.

  She was in no position to look away without Donavan realizing her thoughts. Avery glanced toward the bed, ready to climb in it and call it a night. “Um, I just . . .”

  He clutched her cheek, his thumb rubbing ever so softly. Her eyes went back to him. Donavan begged, “AC, talk to me!”

  “Okay,” she snipped the word out. Her hands went to the air, and she huffed. “Have you ever really . . . murdered anyone? I honest to God don’t believe you killed that guy. But I just have to know, Donnie.”

  His head dipped slowly, and then he nodded.

  She bit her bottom lip and took the moral high road. If it were for the Country, then she couldn’t argue. Curiously she mumbled, “Not including while in the army?”

  “Yes, AC. Aside from being in the army.”

  “Oh,” was all she could muster. Her mind was working in overdrive, moving away from reality at a swift speed, or rather weighing out the notion that Donavan might have murdered Timothy Brown. And while her thoughts ran rampant with Donavan’s motivation, another part of her brain jolted, the part that was connected to her heart, that was ready to solidify their alibi. I was with Donnie yesterday–she worked the words in her brain as best as she could.

  Donavan placed his arm around her waist and pulled her to him. Instead of heading toward the bed, he sat on the plush cushions of the window seat, pulling her into his lap. As nurturing as ever, Donavan brought her gaze to his mouth with the nudge of his thumb to her jaw.

  “When I enlisted in the army, I was focused. It was the only thing to keep my mind off you. I mastered everything in basic training; then I did a couple of months infantry and airborne school at Fort Benning. I wanted to deploy and get you out of my mind, so I joined the 82nd Airborne out of Fort Bragg. I was good with a gun, damned good with a gun.”