Hard Act: Davis (Hard as Nails Book 5)

by Virna DePaul

  We’ll keep coming back here, over and over, to this place where we’re both strangers. Until I learn to let go.

  To let him fully in.

  And that’s something I can never, ever do.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Davis

  There are two guys I don’t know hanging around Nailed Garage, acting like they own the damn place. One of them is tall, sandy-haired, probably early twenties, with the kind of broad shoulders I used to envy back when I was a lanky, asthmatic geek. He introduces himself as Speed. Literally expects me to call him that. Speed. I don’t know how it’s any different from Street or Slate or Axel, but it is. His friend has dark brown skin and a shaved head, chews bubble gum, and goes by Clark.

  “Hey, Davis.” Slate slings an arm around the sandy-haired guy. “Meet the fellas who are going to help us bring King to his fat fuckin’ knees.”

  My jaw drops slightly as I stare at Slate. “How many times do we have to—”

  “No, dude, listen. It’s already over. We have someone inside. An undercover cop. He’s going to tear King’s business down. We don’t have to lift a finger, except to possibly testify when the time comes.”

  “Slate, we agreed,” I growl.

  He raises his hands. “Sorry, Davis. Not under my control.”

  “Hey, man,” Speed pipes up. “This is a good thing.”

  I whirl to face him then Slate. “Who are these people?”

  “They’re men I trust. Men connected to the operation to take down King. That’s all you need to know,” Slate replies.

  “Bullshit. You can’t keep me in the dark.”

  Slate raises an arrogant brow. “Can’t I? When you’re keeping shit from me? We don’t do that, Davis. And if Street, Axel, and Jericho weren’t busy doing their own thing, trusting that we have this aspect of things handled, they’d say the same goddamned thing.”

  He was right. We didn’t do what I’ve been doing. Acting recklessly. Keeping secrets.

  I glance at all three men in front of me but address Slate. “You trust them with your life? With mine?”

  Slate’s face tightens before he nods. “I do.”

  “Fine. Then here’s me pulling you into my shit. I’m dating King’s daughter,” I announce.

  I’m an idiot. Such an idiot. To say it in front of these virtual strangers, to say it when I have no idea what’s actually going on between Bella and me.

  Slate just stares. “Jesus, Davis. King’s daughter. Really?”

  “Yeah,” I mutter. “I mean, you’ve seen her, right?”

  Slate snorts. “Yeah, I’ve seen her. But fuck . . .” He shakes his head. “We could have had him in jail by now, but I waited to move because I thought you had something important. And it turns out you’ve just got a piece of pussy.”

  My blood temperature rises. “You shut the fuck up.”

  Slate’s eyes widen and his gaze drops to my clenching fists. “Holy shit,” he whispers. “You’re in love with her?”

  Yeah, he of all people ought to know about finding love when you’re not looking for it. He met Rose when he was representing her for killing her damn husband. A job that had been given to him by King, for fuck’s sake.

  Not that I’m in love with Bella. I’m not. But I do care for her and I won’t let Slate talk about her like she’s just another piece of ass.

  I glare at Slate, who glares right back at me.

  “Dump her, Davis.”

  “You don’t understand. She wants to convince her dad to go clean. I told her I’d help her try.”

  Slate gives a raw, bitter laugh. “That bastard go clean? Never.”

  “We can’t know that. And if she can’t convince him . . .”

  “What? You going to console her when we send her fucking father to prison? You really think that’ll play? Because it’s coming. We are taking King down.”

  “We’ll never be free. Not from the past. Not from what we’ve done. It’ll follow us forever, and putting King in prison won’t change that.”

  “Bullshit. He’s the snake and once we cut off his head, we will be free.”

  When I say nothing, he leans toward me, getting in my face. “You know what the problem is. You can’t let go of the past because you don’t fucking want to. Is it just like being sixteen again, Davis? Sneaking around with pretty little Bella, praying King doesn’t find out and kick your asthmatic ass?”

  I shove him. Hard. “Fuck you.”

  Without another word to him or the two new assholes, I storm out and get on my bike. Rev it as loud as I can and speed off, not sure where I’m going.

  I did exactly what I shouldn’t have. I made new enemies in a world where I already have too many.

  Okay, that’s a bit dramatic. My brothers, Slate included, will never be my enemies. But, them being pissed enough to help an undercover cop tear King down no matter what I want? That’s a different story.

  After that, what happens to me and Bella?

  I have to admit it, if only to myself, a part me has been hoping that no matter what, even if me or my brothers have some hand in taking down her father, she’ll stay with me anyway.

  Out of love.

  Pathetic.

  I speed up, heading for the river. It’s got a view of the city that always helps me concentrate and helps put things in perspective. I reach the spot and park my bike, then get off, breathing hard.

  Yeah, she’ll just be so fucking grateful for what I do that she’ll want to hang around? She had her own life before me. She’s going to want to go back to that, or build a new one, and I’ll be fucking lost without her.

  She makes me feel different. She changes the very fabric of my thoughts, every day. I crave her. I taste her when she’s not around. Smell traces of her perfume in the air.

  Would I put her before my brothers?

  I don't know.

  But I’d fight for her.

  I’d die for her.

  Slate was right, after all. I love Bella.

  But does she love me?

  As I look out at the skyline, I allow myself to imagine it. Bella loving me. Trusting in me.

  Just being with me.

  No games or bullshit between us.

  A lifetime together.

  I want it.

  Enough to believe that maybe, just maybe, she does too.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Bella

  I listen carefully to what Davis is telling me about his brothers and about the plot to take down my father.

  “Maybe it’s for the best,” he says. “Prison will at least get your father out of the line of fire. He’s in more trouble from the people he’s dealing with than he would be from the law. If he stays free . . .”

  He’ll die. That’s what Davis wants to say.

  He’s sitting on the loveseat, head in hands, clearly conflicted. Because of me, I know. But also because of my father. It hurts me to see him so confused, so torn. King is, in a really fucked up way, his father, too.

  “He’ll be fine,” I say. “My father is a resourceful man. If he goes clean, he’ll find a way to ensure his own protection. He’s only in danger if he continues to make promises to these psychopaths that he can’t deliver.”

  “Slate and the others are going to move forward, Bella,” he warns. “There’s an undercover cop involved. The only way he might go easy on King is if he testifies. And the chances of that aren’t good.”

  “Then we try to get him to testify,” I blurt out.

  “You know he’ll never agree to that. You’ve already tried talking to him.”

  “Yes, but we haven’t tried to talking to him.” I lean forward, the details of my plan coming to me in a desperate rush. Because I know Davis is right. His friends won’t stop until my father is in prison and serving a life sentence. We need to intervene, give my father a fighting chance, before that happens.

  “I’m going to suggest a dinner, as a peace offering. And you’ll come with me. We’ll tell him you’re my boyfrien
d.”

  “Bella, no—”

  “We tell him we’re in love, and we’ll present a united front. Make it seem like if he has any hope of living to see his daughter happily married, with a family of her own, then he needs to make a deal with the cops.”

  “Are you kidding?” Davis straightens, rubbing a hand over his stubbled jaw. “What’s to stop him from just killing me?”

  “He’s done plenty of shitty things, but he won’t kill the man he thinks I love.”

  For a second, something dark flickers in Davis’s eyes before they seem to go flat.

  “If us being together isn’t enough to sway him, I’ll tell him I’m going to the police.”

  “No, you won’t.”

  “He definitely won’t kill me.”

  “Not even if you threaten to betray him? What kind of fantasy world are you living in?”

  I shake my head. “I know my father, Davis. And you know him, too. He loves us, in his own strange way. He wants out. He’s tired. And he wants me home, to see me settle down, have a family. If he knows we’re together, I know he’ll fold.”

  “For fuck’s sake.” He rakes his hand down his face again. He looks at me suddenly, his expression dark. “And are we?”

  “Are we what?”

  “Together. In love. Because I’m in love with you, Bella.”

  His declaration blindsides me. Not so much because I haven’t felt his love for me, but that he’d just come straight out and say it. My own feelings of love flow through me, as does an aching wistfulness.

  What if? Oh God, what if only things could have been different?

  But that’s not what I need to think about right now.

  “Davis,” I say brusquely. “This isn’t the time to talk about emotions.”

  “Like hell it isn’t. I’ve done enough not talking about the way I feel the past week. So I love you, Bella. I want to know how you feel about me.”

  “That’s not what matters right now,” I manage to get out. Then I force myself to go one brutal step further. “What’s between us doesn’t matter.”

  For a second, he looks shocked, then he laughs, a sharp, ugly sound, and shakes his head in disgust.

  “Really, Bella? It doesn’t matter? This past month doesn’t matter at all to you?”

  “I didn’t say that. I’m simply saying that shouldn’t be our focus.”

  I feel the beginnings of a dizzy spell, and it lends urgency to my words. I need to make him understand. I need this solved before it’s too late.

  Why not tell him? A voice urges inside my mind. Just tell him you love him. Then tell him you’re sick. Explain why it’s so important for you to tie up any loose ends.

  But I can’t make the words come out. All I can think about is that Davis loves me. But he doesn’t know I’m sick. He doesn’t know that I love him, and he can’t know, because if he does he’ll never let me go. He’ll never accept my decision to die in peace.

  I need to be strong.

  I don’t have much time left, but whatever time I do have, I don’t want anyone hovering over me. I don’t want anyone asking why I didn’t try the experimental treatment, questioning my decisions, or treating me like an invalid.

  Watching me wither away.

  At my continued silence, his expression darkens further. “You’re lying to yourself, Bella. Building your walls again. You feel something for me, I know you do. This past month has been . . .” He shakes his head again. “It matters to me. You matter to me.”

  “I appreciate that, Davis.”

  I hear my own voice, cool and distant. God, what’s wrong with me? Am I going to stand here and watch him slip away? Am I going to lose him because I’m afraid? Afraid of finding something wonderful when I can’t even keep it?

  “You appreciate that.” He shakes his head more slowly this time. “Don’t do this. Please, don’t do this.”

  “Let’s just focus on my father.”

  “And you expect me to just trot at your heels like a good dog?”

  “We had a deal, Davis,” I say sharply. “I’ve held up my end.”

  He just stares at me, and I think of all the times those beautiful eyes have looked at me with kindness. With lust. With love.

  Then he looks away.

  “Fine,” he mutters. “You’re right. A deal’s a deal.”

  And then he leaves.

  I stay frozen as I hear the front door slam shut.

  I’m alone again.

  Absentmindedly, I wander around the penthouse.

  Davis loves me, I think.

  He loves me and I just threw that in his face. I threw him away.

  My breath is hitching and I feel on the verge of breaking down when I see the door to a small room I’ve never explored before. I open the door, and the room is smaller than Davis’s study. It’s empty except for a small, decorative table.

  But on the wood-paneled walls, in between elegant sconces, hang several of my paintings.

  I can’t breathe for a moment. I remember a small group of my paintings selling in an online auction a few years ago, but I had no idea who’d purchased them

  Davis.

  Davis has my paintings.

  Because he loves me.

  Because he’s loved me all this time.

  What have I done?

  Whatever I’ve done, it feels too late to undo it now.

  I stay in that room for a long time. Minutes. Hours.

  Davis doesn’t return, and in his absence, I regain my resolve.

  Maybe he’ll keep the paintings even when I’m gone. And maybe he’ll see in each one how it reflects a piece of my heart. A piece he’s owned since we were both sixteen years old.

  Finally, I back out of the room, closing the door behind me.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Davis

  Several nights after my fight with Bella, I wait for her outside of the guest room, where she’s been sleeping for the past few nights. We’ve barely spoken two words to one another. After I returned to find her ensconced in the guest room that night, I’d waited until morning and told her to set up the dinner with her father. I’d give her that one last play. Then we were over.

  After the way she’d reacted after I’d declared my love for her, I was done with her, and certainly done with King.

  When Bella finally steps out of the guest room, she looks stunning in the same ice-blue satin sheath she wore the day she first walked into my apartment. A white faux-fur stole is around her shoulders, and her feet are in silver heels. Her hair is up in a tight twist, and she’s snapping shut a little beaded purse. She glances at me as she clicks her way down the hall.

  “Smile, Davis. You look like you’re going to a funeral. We’re never going to convince King to turn himself in if you keep that up.”

  Right. That’s why we won’t be able to convince King. Is she delusional for thinking this plan will work? Am I insane for going along with it?

  Pretend. Just for tonight, pretend she’s yours.

  God, I want her to be mine.

  Pretend you care about her.

  I don’t have to pretend. Even after what she said, I’m angry but I can’t hate her.

  What did I tell you, asks a voice in my head. She’ll always hurt you. Just like she did before.

  That wasn’t her fault. And neither is this. She was honest with me from the start. I knew her priority was her father. But that fact doesn’t stop me from being pissed.

  She and I walk to the door together and get our coats on without speaking. I open the door and gesture for her to go ahead of me. I shut the door behind us, and we walk to the elevator. Everything around me feels cold and dark.

  The drive to King’s mansion is just as tense. Bella’s right. I have to relax if we’re going to pull this off.

  My heart starts thumping as we roll up to King’s gate. I haven’t seen the old bastard in a while, since he only drops in on me when he wants some dirty work done. When we finally make it out of the car and to t
he front entrance, she takes my hand.

  We stare at one anther, and in that moment, with her hand in mine, I could swear I see intense emotion in her eyes. Desire. Affection. And yes, love. But before I can look closer, convince myself I haven’t imagined it, she hits the buzzer.

  The man who opens the door is wearing a dark suit and an earpiece. King’s obligatory bodyguard. We walk into the foyer, and King can’t quite hide his surprise at seeing me. “Davis! I didn’t know you and Bella had been back in touch.”

  It’s actually a sad statement, and I wonder if King understands its significance. There was a time nothing could surprise him, certainly nothing to do with his own daughter. It tells me how careless King has gotten, which only highlights why taking him down would serve not only the public good, but also his own.

  “I hope there’s enough food,” Bella says.

  “Yes, yes. There’s plenty. I’m just . . . surprised.” He gives me a cold smile.

  I return it. “You should be.” I shove my hands in my pockets and rock on the balls of my feet. “Bella and I are old friends, after all.”

  He gives me a long look. He knows. He knew when I was sixteen, and he knows now.

  “Well, come on into the dining room. Dinner is set.”

  We follow him in and Bella takes my hand again, which King doesn’t miss. He grins wolfishly at me even as he pours us all some wine.

  “Well, well.” He sets the bottle down. Looks from me to Bella and back again. “Isn’t this something?”

  It’s agony to stand here holding Bella’s hand and know she feels no love for me. This is still, to her, nothing but a pretense. A simple bargain. But I do it, because I want her to get what she wants. This may not end well for either of us. But together, we’re going to try to do what neither she or I could do alone. We’re going to try to change King’s mind.

  Bella takes a seat. I sit beside her, King across from us.

  “Davis,” King begins, his tone a mock of pleasantry. “I didn’t realize you’d never outgrown your teenage crush. Tell me, Bella.” He turns to his daughter. “Was he the reason you came back?”