Rough Edge

by Jen Talty

  It would explain a lot of things in Clayton’s life, specifically his inability to connect to a woman.

  Or even have the desire to have a relationship.

  But mostly, Clayton couldn’t handle the fact that his father was a man who thought nothing of hitting a woman. Clayton believed that he could never, but after spending ten years in the military, he’d found out he was capable of taking human life.

  Perhaps his father’s genetics, if Maxwell was his dad, had rubbed off on Clayton in more ways than one. Something he never wanted to find out.

  “We know each other.”

  “Is he in Vegas?”

  Clayton shook his head. “I’ve never told anyone this before, and honestly, I’d rather drop the subject. Besides, I have to read all these files that my boss sent over on your folks and their business.”

  “What am I supposed to do?” She tossed the towel on the counter. “I can’t just sit around and do nothing.”

  Typically, he’d want to go over everything before discussing it with a client, but Sage made him want to toss any rule he might have had out the window. “I have an old tablet in the nightstand next to my bed. I’ll open some of the documents on that, and you can help me go through all of it.” He patted the couch.

  “What if I find out things about my parents I don’t want to know?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest.

  “I think it’s safe to say that’s already happened.” He dropped his head back and let the air in his lungs push through his nose. “I need to tell you something.” His vocal cords rattled against his throat, causing a slight tremble to the sound of his voice. “The car that shot at us in the parking garage was owned by a holding company that your father owns.”

  “What? No way. You have to be joking.” Her hands dropped to her sides, smacking against her legs. “That can’t be possible.”

  “I wish it wasn’t true. I’ll understand if you no longer want to go through—”

  She held up her hand. “Hell, no. I’m tired of hiding from the truth.”

  He cocked his head. “Then tell me what you’re not telling me because I know you’ve left some things out.”

  She raised her hand and bit down on her nail. “Two things.”

  “Babe, if we’re going to get to the bottom of this, you’re going to have to tell me everything, no matter what.”

  “The real reason I don’t want to ever set foot in the Alley Home is because it’s your mother who was the prostitute my father was with.” Her gaze darted around the room before landing on him and sucker, punching his gut.

  He’d met many of his mother’s johns, and it always made for an uncomfortable situation, but nothing in his past could have prepared him for those words coming from Sage’s mouth.

  “Are you sure about that?” he asked.

  “When I was home for the holidays shortly before your mom died, I heard my parents arguing about her, and my mom said if he didn’t call it off, she was going to ruin him.”

  “Most people bounce back from a sex scandal these days.”

  She shook her head. “No. She told my dad that she’d turn him in, making sure she came out smelling like a victim.”

  Chapter 5

  Sage flattened her hands across her stomach. “My parents are criminals. There is no denying that fact,” she mumbled, passing the tablet back to Clayton. For the last twenty-four hours, they combed through all the materials Hank had sent over, and while it appeared her father only had surface dealings with Maxwell and other members of organized crime, there was still enough there for her to make that judgment call. She rubbed her sleep-deprived eyes. A few hours here and there wasn’t enough rest, but she couldn’t settle down. Clayton seemed to have the same problem. They took short breaks, walking through the campground, discussing music or anything that wasn’t directly related to the case.

  She’d learned more about him than she knew about her own parents.

  “Technically, my mother was a criminal.” Clayton’s words did nothing to ease the anger she had toward her parents.

  And herself.

  All these years she’d known. She’d seen things. She’d heard things, but never did she allow herself to believe what was right in front of her. But now that her mind was open, it all made perfect sense.

  “We don’t know exactly what your parents are involved in.” He set his computer and the tablet on the coffee table. He patted his thighs. “Why don’t you put your head down for a bit. You barely slept last night.”

  “Neither did you.” She didn’t fight him as she sprawled out on the sofa. Her muscles were tired. Her eyes burned. And her head ached.

  He threaded his fingers through her hair, gently massaging her scalp.

  Closing her eyes, she hugged his legs and let her body relax. “We know that three of the companies my father currently owns, Maxwell has a stake in the business. What I don’t understand is why doesn’t anyone know this? I mean, Maxwell is practically a household name. If my parents were involved with him illegally, I think everyone and their brother in Vegas would know about it.”

  “Not necessarily. Besides, it was Maxwell’s LLC that had been an investor, so maybe your parents didn’t know that until after because it took some digging for Hank to find all this out.”

  “So, what you’re saying is it’s possible my parents accidentally fell into a life of crime.”

  “I’m saying; we don’t have enough facts to know the truth. And yes, that’s possible. I’ve seen it before. Or maybe Maxwell had something on your father, and he’s been blackmailing him. My boss sent a coworker of mine by the name of Dustin to act as a bodyguard for your parents.”

  “But he’s there to gather information, right?”

  “That would be part of it, but your father did admit to being threatened recently, so we want to take every necessary precaution.”

  “I’m shocked my father agreed to a bodyguard.”

  “He hasn’t.”

  “Oh, he’s not going to like Dustin just showing up then,” she said.

  “I suppose not, but we need to cover all our bases.”

  She rolled to her back and stared up at Clayton. “How do you feel about the fact that my father paid to be with your mother?”

  “He’s not the only man who’s done that.”

  “It doesn’t bother you?” Without thinking, she reached up and palmed his cheek.

  “I was raised by a village of hookers. I saw a different side of that world than most people. While I don’t agree with prostitution, I don’t condemn those who partake, except for the assholes who feel the need to use their fists.”

  “It had to have been hard to grow up like that.” All her life, she never wanted for material things. But her life felt empty.

  “No harder than being shipped off to boarding school and summer camp. You grew up feeling unloved and unwanted. I grew up knowing I was loved, but, if I'm honest, I felt unnoticed half the time. I believed I was the reason my mother ended up being a prostitute because she had to care for me, but the reality was she had started selling her body before I was born, and I know she never stopped, even when she opened the Alley Home.”

  “How did Maxwell find out about all the money your mom stole?”

  “At first, he’d thought it was someone else and had that person killed. A few months later, he pinned it on another person. Three people died before my mother couldn’t take it and told him that she’d stolen the money. He didn’t handle that well, and a few weeks later, my mom was at the bottom of Lake Mead. I think there is more to that story, but whatever it is, it died with my mother, and Maxwell certainly isn’t going to fill me in.”

  “I’m so sorry.” She rose to a sitting position, cupping his face. “I can see in your eyes how much this hurt you, but you bottle it up too deep that I’m worried you’ve never really felt the loss.”

  “I’ve dealt with this,” he said matter-of-factly. “I’ve seen a lot of death, and while it doesn’t make it easier,
it is part of life.”

  “Maybe you accept death and are at peace with your mother’s, but it’s the rest of the story that either you don’t know, or don’t want to verbalize that’s holding your emotions hostage.” She searched his face for any sign of the real guttural feelings he had to have about what happened to his mother, and the unanswered questions about her murder.

  “I’ve made my peace with who my mother was, but you’re right, Maxwell is a different story. He’s a bad man.”

  “And my father is mixed up with him somehow.”

  “I’m afraid so, but we don’t know if it has anything to do with you being kidnapped.”

  “I think I should tell you something.” She tried to stand, but Clayton held her to his lap.

  “Tell me what?”

  Her pulse tickled her throat as it sped up. “I met Maxwell once.”

  “What?” Clayton cocked his head. “Why are you just now telling me this?”

  “I didn’t meet him as in had a conversation with him. When I first moved back to Vegas, I showed up at my parents’ office unannounced and saw Maxwell having a heated discussion with both my parents. I honestly didn’t think anything of it at the time.”

  “Seriously? A known gangster is hanging out with your family, and you shrug it off?”

  She studied Clayton’s face. The curve of his mouth. The dimple in his square jaw. And those Mediterranean blue eyes that tried to hide his kind soul and failed miserably. But it was the color and shape that gave her a shiver.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten upset,” he said, running his fingers through her hair, stopping to dance across the top of her shoulder. “Maxwell can be charming, and there are many upstanding citizens who do business with him, and he even had a senator fight for his casinos and clubs.”

  She nodded, appreciating his message and how he delivered it. But her curiosity got the better of her. “Who do you believe is your father?”

  “You’re a persistent woman,” he said. “And smart. So, I think you’ve already figured out what I think.” He closed his eyes and let out a long breath. “I asked my mother if Maxwell was my father when I was sixteen. She told me to never utter such insanities in front of anyone ever again. Considering the man used to beat the shit out of her, and he hit me a couple of times, I thought it best to heed her warning.”

  “Wow,” she whispered right before pressing her mouth against his. She didn’t feel pity for him, not at all, but she did empathize with the lost little boy who didn’t like where he came from, and she suspected part of him didn’t want to accept the truth, something she could relate to.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, holding her cheeks between his strong hands.

  “You wanted to kiss me earlier.”

  “I did, but why are you doing it now because—”

  She kissed him hard, swirling her tongue around his, not letting him finish his statement. She straddled him, and his hands squeezed her hips. She hadn’t had a lot of experience with men. Hell, she hadn’t even lost her virginity until her twenty-first birthday, and that hadn’t been an earth-shattering experience. The guy she’d been with had been kind and gentle, but not boyfriend material.

  Most of the men she dated weren’t cut out to be husbands, and she suspected she picked that type on purpose. Her idea of marriage had been stripped from her the day she found her father liked to pay for sex, and her mother had never left, even when she threatened to do so.

  And if she were frank with herself, she’d seen her father with other women, and other not so up-and-up businesspeople, which was probably one of the reasons they sent her away. Maybe they told themselves it was to protect her, or maybe it was so they didn’t have to deal with her, but that didn’t matter anymore.

  What mattered was that she was no longer going through life with blinders on.

  Nope. Her eyes were wide open.

  Clayton deepened the kiss while his hands roamed her body. His touch was as soft and gentle as a feather. His tongue masterfully found every crevice. He tasted like a combination of bitter coffee with a splash of creamy candy.

  “I don’t think I’m supposed to sleep with the clients,” he whispered in her ear.

  “Then, don’t think.”

  He dropped his forehead to hers and held her face, his breathing labored. “You’re so young.”

  “My age bothers you.” She stiffened her spine. Two days ago, she played up the age difference, acting like a child because he kept reminding her that she might lack experience and maturity. But for him to point it out now was a bit of a buzzkill.

  Not to mention insulting.

  He ran his thumb over her bottom lip. “No. It doesn’t. But you did call me an old man.”

  She opened her mouth, but he palmed her lips.

  “I am fifteen years older, and I have nothing to offer you.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” Her heart hammered in her chest, pounding against her throat, making it hard to swallow, much less speak.

  “While I’ve never been ashamed of where I came from, I am a slightly broken man. I have no desire for a lasting relationship. I don’t want children. I never want to get married. I will live out the rest of my days in this trailer, knowing that at any time, I can move to another place if I want. I have no ties to anything except the Brotherhood Protectors, but even that is more about the job. I was put on this earth to protect and serve, and I love what I do, but that’s about all the passion I have. Do you understand.?”

  “I understand that you believe that, but if you could see what I do behind your stoic expressions, you’d see a man who cares so deeply he’d lay down his freedom for a complete stranger.”

  “As I said, that’s all the passion I have, and this can’t go any further if you can’t accept that about me, because you and I will be nothing more than two ships passing in the night.”

  “I don’t accept your lack of passion. But I do agree with everything else. For the record, I don’t want marriage, kids, or any of that. My parents kind of destroyed any desire I might have had the day they told me I couldn’t come home for Thanksgiving when I was twelve.”

  “That’s cold.”

  “When all this is done before you head back to Montana, I have one request of you.”

  “Besides sex?” He winked.

  She smiled as every erogenous zone in her body lit up like the Fourth of July. “I want you to show me around the Alley Home.”

  His jaw dropped open. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes. You showed me the error of my ways, and I do want to make a difference with more than writing a check or raising money.”

  “I’d be honored.”

  “So, how about we take this to the bedroom,” she said boldly. Her sexual experiences had left her wondering what the big deal had been. She’d gotten more satisfaction out of pleasuring herself than the act of making love. Of course, she had a few partners that had given her an orgasm, but they had been anti-climactic. She nearly laughed at her own pun.

  It had never been the sex that had been disappointing, but what happened after while she lay there, naked, waiting until she could jump from the bed, get dressed, and take off running. She never knew what the proper amount of time for cuddling should be and because she didn’t like to snuggle, being in a man’s arms made her crazy.

  The first few times she’d spent the night with a man, she ended up sneaking from the bed and snoozing on the sofa. Sharing her private space wasn’t something she did well.

  He lifted her into his arms and carried her the ten paces to the bedroom. Carefully, he laid her down. He stood at the edge of the bed and just stared at her.

  Raised up on her elbows, she swallowed the fear that he might reject her. That quickly went away as he lifted his shirt and tossed it to the floor.

  She jumped to her knees and ran her finger across the outline of the Navy SEAL insignia on his chest. She’d seen pictures of it but never tattooed on a man’s pec before. Leaning i
n, she pressed her lips against his skin and inhaled sharply. Blinking, she noticed words tattooed on the left side of his torso. She glided her hand across his stomach, reading the words: You’ve only got three choices in life: Give up, give in, or give it all you got.

  “Are these all the tattoos you have?”

  Without saying a word, he turned, showing off a bald eagle spread across his shoulders and upper back. He rotated once more, and a small heart with the words: Alley Home written in the middle dotted his shoulder.

  “That’s sweet.”

  “My mom had the same one. We did it together one of the times I came to visit.”

  “Did you come home often?” She rested her hands on his shoulders, massaging gently, staring into his wondrous eyes. She found herself not only wanting to explore his body but his mind as well.

  “I tried to visit at least once a year, but I was deployed the majority of the time I was in the service. Sometimes I think I did that to hide from some of the realities in Vegas that I didn’t want to deal with.”

  “You’re a good man, Clayton.”

  He took her hand and kissed her palm. “I wouldn’t say that, but I am a man with a code.”

  She smiled. “That code is your way of hiding being so purely human that you have to be the most dangerous man I’ve ever met.”

  He cocked his head. “What does that mean?”

  “If I were any other woman, I’d end up falling for you.” She scooted back on the bed, rocking on her heels. In a quick swoop, she lifted her shirt over her head, exposing her bare breasts.

  He groaned.

  She loved the sound of the deep rumble that echoed through the room, giving her goosebumps.

  “Do you have any tattoos?” He looped his fingers into the top of his jeans, snapping open the button at the top.

  “I have two.” She plopped to her butt and wiggled out of her shorts. She’d been eighteen when she had gotten her first tattoo on the small of her back. Her father had flipped when he saw it about a year later.

  The next day, she’d gone out and gotten her second tattoo.