Dirty Sexy Saint (Dirty Sexy #1)

by Carly Phillips

  Samantha’s mind spun as she tried to process everything Clay had told her, unable to imagine all that he’d been through as a kid. Her heart felt torn in shreds, knowing that he’d endured so much abuse yet never hesitated to step up and be strong for Mason and Levi.

  “Your brothers were still so young when that happened,” she said, curious to know how Clay had kept them together without any adult supervision or financial means. “So what did you do once Wyatt was gone?”

  “Mason was twelve and Levi was ten. No way was I going to lose them to foster care,” he said gruffly. “So I did everything possible to make sure that didn’t happen. For two years, until I turned eighteen, I worked any kind of job I could to pay the rent and utilities and remain under the radar. Mowing lawns. Bagging groceries. Collecting cans and bottles and recycling them for cash. I’d even dig through dumpsters for food or other things we needed. And then Jerry hired me here at the bar and gave me a weekly paycheck. Levi was a good kid who did exactly as I said and made sure he stayed out of trouble. But Jesus Christ, Mason was a goddamn hellion,” he said with a self-derisive laugh.

  She smiled at Clay. “So, he started at a young age, huh?”

  “Yeah.” Clay sighed heavily. “With everything that happened, Mason had a lot of anger inside of him. And after our mother died and Wyatt left, he got worse. He tested my authority constantly and made it difficult to keep all of us off the radar, until I turned eighteen and could apply for guardianship for them both. And with Mason fourteen, those teenage years were a nightmare. He was such a fucking handful,” he said, humor in his voice now that his brother was a grown man and no longer his responsibility. “He was constantly sneaking out in the middle of the night, hanging with the wrong crowd, getting involved in drugs. When he was seventeen, he was arrested for spraying graffiti on public and private property, and because I knew he was headed down a really bad path, I didn’t try to stop it when he was sent to juvie for six months.”

  Samantha could easily imagine what a delinquent Mason had been as a teen. “I think he turned out okay.” Thanks to his brother’s diligence and guidance.

  “Meh,” Clay said in a teasing tone, then grew serious once again. “I really think that Mason constantly tested and defied me because he believed that I was going to leave him like our mother had. She might not have been part of our life in any way that mattered, but she was our mother. We didn’t have a father, and not knowing who his dad was, knowing that it was some random john our mother had screwed for a hit messed with Mason’s head, too. Still does, I think.”

  “You did the best you could,” she said, gently trailing her fingers up and down his chest. “Both of your brothers turned out to be good men because of everything you did for them.”

  He scrubbed a hand along the stubble on his jaw, suddenly looking tired and weary. “Except here we are, facing the man who fucked all of us up, when I thought we’d never see him again.”

  A very dangerous man demanding a staggering amount of money that Clay didn’t have. The reminder made Samantha’s chest tighten and ripped her heart in two because of the decision she’d had to make. The only choice she could make to be sure that Clay, and his brothers, remained safe. Even if it meant leaving the one man who made her feel whole and complete. The man she loved with every fiber of her being and would never see again after tomorrow morning.

  Clay frowned up at her, and that’s when Samantha realized that her eyes had filled with tears. And there was no way to hide them or blink them back.

  “Hey, what’s with this?” he asked in concern as he wiped away one of the drops with his thumb as it spilled over her lashes. “Are you okay?”

  She swallowed hard, pushing back an even bigger wave of emotion. “Yeah. It’s just been a long day and night,” she said with a tremulous smile.

  He’d been through the emotional wringer, and she didn’t think now was the right time to tell him she’d be leaving in the morning. And selfishly, she wanted one last night in his arms. Because she didn’t want him asking any more questions, she kissed him in order to distract him and, more importantly, to keep herself from thinking about a life without Clay in it.

  * * *

  When Clay came out of the bathroom the following morning after taking a shower, dressed in just a pair of jeans, he found Samantha setting all her clothes and personal items on the bed, then transferring each pile into a large shopping bag. She wouldn’t look at him, and a frisson of unease coursed through him.

  “Samantha, why are you packing?” he asked, wondering if she’d already found a place to live, which didn’t make sense. She’d just brought up the idea of moving out, then Wyatt had appeared. There was no way she had anywhere to go yet. And even if she did, he wasn’t letting her out of this apartment without some kind of security or protection.

  When she didn’t reply immediately and just continued to pack her things, his concern increased. He closed the distance between them and gently grabbed her arm, forcing her to face him. “Samantha?”

  She lifted her chin, and he immediately recognized that show of determination, but it was the anguish in her eyes that made his chest tighten with anxiety. The kind that came with knowing that his entire world was about to disintegrate and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

  “I’m going home,” she said, her voice raspy with emotion and pain.

  Reeling in shock, he dropped her arm, feeling something substantial crumble deep inside of him. She was leaving him, and he was hit with a kind of desperation he’d never known before. The desperation to make her stay. With him. Forever.

  And how fucking selfish was that considering everything he’d put her through in the past twenty-four hours alone?

  “So you’re just giving up what you want and fought so hard for?”

  She closed her eyes for a moment, gathering her composure, then picked up a folded pile of clothes and set it inside the sack. “It’s what I need to do.”

  No other explanation, and he didn’t have the right to demand one. He clenched his hands at his sides to keep from touching her again. He understood her need to hightail it out of here and get far away from him. Her life had been threatened, and last night he’d used her in a harsh way she didn’t deserve, then he’d unloaded all his emotional shit on her. Stuff that never should have seen the light of day, never mind touched Samantha.

  He’d always known his past was tainted with nothing but gruesome ugliness, and for that reason, from the moment she’d entered his life, he’d tried to keep his distance. He didn’t deserve her purity, goodness, or light. But dammit, he wanted it, anyway. And now his fucked-up past was going to cost him the best thing to ever happen to him. And he couldn’t blame her for leaving.

  Samantha was his sweet, guileless cupcake, a lightweight in every way. He’d known from the beginning that their lives were too vastly different, that someone like her wasn’t cut out to live in his darkness long term.

  By leaving, she was making everything easier, right? She would be safer at her parents’ mansion than she ever would be with him, and he could deal with Wyatt without worrying about Samantha’s safety. But knowing that didn’t stop his heart from splintering in two.

  “Okay. Do what you have to, but I don’t want you leaving without some kind of security until the issue with Wyatt is resolved,” he said, his voice sounding like he’d just swallowed glass.

  She tipped her head, her silky hair keeping her face concealed from his view. “I called my father, and he’s sending over a private car with his personal security. He should be here any minute,” she said in a tight voice as she swiped her fingers beneath her eyes in a way that led him to believe she was clearing away tears.

  At least she was affected somehow. He couldn’t handle it if his was the only heart cracking into pieces. Then her words suddenly hit him.

  She’d called her father.

  Clay’s worst nightmare had just come true, the one thing he’d fought like hell to help her prevent. She
was going back to her parents and, ultimately, back to Harrison. She was going to marry a man she didn’t love for the sake of her father’s business—and give up her own identity in the process. That revelation had the worst kind of agony clawing through his stomach. But as much as he wanted to beg her to stay, he didn’t have the right. He never had.

  Just as she finished packing, a knock sounded on the apartment door, and Clay’s heart slammed hard in his chest because he knew this was it. In another few minutes, she’d be gone, as if she’d never turned his life and emotions upside down and inside out.

  She turned and met his gaze, her eyes filled with moisture and the same kind of dread that sat in his gut, holding him hostage.

  “I have to go,” she whispered in an aching voice.

  “I know,” he said, and did the only thing he could. He walked her to the door and delivered her to the man who’d come to take her home.

  Chapter Fourteen

  It had only been one day without Samantha, but it already felt like a lifetime to Clay. Nothing was the same without her. Not his apartment. Not the bar. And especially not his empty bed. He’d gotten so used to having her around and in his life—seeing her smile, hearing her laugh, and smelling the sweet scent of whatever she’d decided to bake for the day. For the rest of his life, he knew that nothing would ever fill the cavernous hole inside of him that losing Samantha had left behind.

  He loved her, and his main regret was that he’d never told her. But keeping that declaration buried deep inside of him had been the right thing to do. She was back home and safe from Wyatt, though Clay tried not to think about the fact that she’d most likely give in to her father’s demands to marry Harrison. Fuck. That thought alone, and knowing that any other man had the right to touch her, made him crazy.

  “Jesus Christ, Clay,” Levi said, frowning at him from his seat across the bar, a hint of compassion in his brother’s gaze. “I know that Samantha leaving has thrown you for a loop, but I need you to pay attention to what I’m about to tell you.”

  Thrown him for a loop? Hell, he’d been walking around in a fog, like a Goddamn lost puppy, emotionally shredded and lost without her. And everyone was treating him with kid gloves, including both of his brothers. There was nothing he could do to change the decision that Samantha had made, and in fairness to her, he hadn’t even tried. So he forced his mind to clear so he could concentrate on the important information that Levi was here to share with him.

  “I’m good,” he said assured Levi gruffly, bracing his arms on the surface of the bar. “What did you find on Wyatt?” Clay wanted the prick out of their lives as quickly as possible, and hopefully for good this time.

  “A lot of expected shit,” Levi told him. “His criminal history is long and quite notable, with a few convictions, but his time served has been minimal.”

  Clay swore beneath his breath. “Is there no fucking justice in this world?”

  “Actually, there is.” A triumphant smile curved Levi’s lips, as if he’d been holding back the best part. “While running his prints through the system, there was a match. He has a warrant out for his arrest.”

  Clay couldn’t deny the anticipation that surged through him. “For?”

  “First-degree murder.”

  A sick feeling of triumph shot through Clay, knowing that just maybe the monster would finally get what he deserved. “What did he do?”

  “It was about a year ago. He was living with a woman who’d been arrested numerous times for drug possession and solicitation,” Levi said, bringing back memories of their own mother’s addictions and how Wyatt had taken advantage of her weakness, which was apparently the asshole’s MO. “According to the files and records, his DNA was all over the crime scene, but they couldn’t find him. He must have been lying low all this time. Like, underground low, because he’s managed to avoid being caught and arrested.”

  “Yet he’s surfaced now, asking for money. He must owe someone he’s more afraid of than prison time,” Clay mused. “So where does that leave us?”

  “I talked to the detective on the case, told him the situation, and they’re already in the process of setting up a sting to take him into custody whenever and wherever he tells you to meet him.”

  “What about the exchange of money?” First thing this morning, Clay had called his banker to set the withdrawal of cash in motion, but since it was such a large amount, he wouldn’t be able to pick it up until the end of the day.

  Levi shook his head. “The chief of police doesn’t want a civilian involved in the takedown. They obviously want to keep any casualties to a minimum. Trust me, we don’t need the blackmail and extortion charges to put this guy away. There is more than enough evidence to convict Wyatt, and murder is a capital charge, which means life without parole. He’s going to rot in prison.”

  Clay exhaled a deep breath, releasing it slowly. He couldn’t deny the relief he felt at knowing that finally justice would be served. But he wouldn’t truly be able to relax until the fucker was behind bars, where he belonged.

  “All you need to do is let me know the time and place as soon as you hear from Wyatt, and the PD will take care of everything else.”

  “Chances are he’s going to show up here,” Clay muttered.

  “Then tell him you have to pick up the cash and will meet him somewhere neutral. Then call me with the details.” Levi pinned him with a direct look, a distinct warning in his gaze. “Once that’s done, you need to keep your ass here until we confirm we have Wyatt in custody, got it?”

  “Got it.” Clay wasn’t going to do anything to jeopardize Wyatt’s arrest.

  “Good,” Levi said, then pushed back his chair to stand and grinned. “Then my work here is done.”

  Clay walked his brother to the front entrance, let him out, then locked up after him since the bar didn’t open for another two hours. He was halfway to his office when he heard a loud knock. Assuming Levi forgot to tell him something important, he returned and pulled the door open.

  He was surprised to find a young, well-dressed man standing on the other side, appearing extremely nervous, his gaze darting up and down the deserted street. The guy looked as if he was making sure he wasn’t about to get mugged. He clearly wasn’t a Kincaid’s regular. Everything about him was neat and orderly and wealthy-looking, from his short, styled hair to his immaculately pressed gray suit, all the way down to his polished leather shoes.

  He was obviously on the wrong side of town, and even though Clay didn’t discriminate, the bar was closed. “Sorry, but the place doesn’t open until four,” he told the other guy.

  The man gave another surreptitious look around—which Clay found extremely amusing—before meeting Clay’s gaze. “Actually, I’m here to speak with Clay Kincaid.”

  Huh. “That would be me,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

  The guy shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “Do you mind if I come in for a few minutes?”

  Clay couldn’t imagine what kind of business this dude had with him, but he noticed that he was carrying a thick manila envelope, and Clay was curious to know what he wanted. “Yeah, sure.”

  He stepped aside to let him in, then led the way into the main area, not missing the way the man’s gaze took in the well-used bar, not so much in distaste but, rather, with a surprising amount of interest.

  “So, what can I do for you, Mr.…” Clay deliberately let the words trail off, which prompted an introduction.

  “Blackwell,” the guy said, though he didn’t offer his hand to shake. “Harrison Blackwell.”

  Shock rendered Clay speechless as he stared at the other man—the perfect, wealthy, well-bred man who would most likely marry the woman Clay loved. He felt as though he’d been sucker-punched in the stomach and swallowed back an anguished groan.

  A wry smile touched the corner of Harrison’s mouth. “So, Samantha told you about me,” he said, though there was no animosity or ill will in the other man’s tone, just an odd acceptance that
Clay didn’t quite understand.

  “She did.” And if Harrison was here now, then that meant Samantha must have told the other guy about him, and Clay wasn’t sure what to think about that. “What can I do for you?”

  “I’m here to deliver a package.” Harrison lifted the fat envelope he was holding, though he didn’t hand it over just yet. “And I wanted to meet the man who Samantha gave up her new, independent life for.”

  Clay frowned in confusion. “Excuse me?” What the fuck was the guy talking about?

  Harrison laughed and shook his head. “She didn’t tell you, did she?”

  “Tell me what?” he demanded irritably, damn close to shaking the words out of the man.

  “She returned home in exchange for fifty thousand dollars delivered directly to you, in cash.”

  Because she believed he needed the money to pay off Wyatt, Clay realized. “And what strings were included in the exchange?” he asked impatiently through gritted teeth. Because Clay knew, without a doubt, her father had demanded blood in return.

  “Samantha called her father yesterday and told him she needed money immediately, that you were in trouble and she wanted to help,” Harrison said, looking him in the eye as he set the padded envelope of money on the table next to where they were standing. “And Conrad Jamieson, as you already surmised, struck a bargain with his own daughter. Her return home and agreement to marry me, in exchange for giving you fifty grand.”

  What. The. Hell? Her father had bribed and blackmailed her.

  Clay felt so dizzy he nearly dropped to his knees as another realization struck him. Samantha hadn’t gone back home because she was scared and no longer wanted to be with him. No, she’d sold her soul to her father to make sure Clay had the money to pay Wyatt. She’d done it for him, selflessly walking away from this new life she’d painstakingly created for herself, and giving up her dream of being a pastry chef, in order to ensure he was safe and protected.