Daddy's Possessive Friend (Once Upon a Daddy Book 12)

by Kelli Callahan

  Bram

  I wake up where I fell, on the pavement, but I’m not alone. Joanna is kneeling beside me with her phone to her ear.

  “Hello? 911? Yes, I have an emergency!” Her voice is rattled and panicked.

  “No…” I reach out to her. “Don’t call anyone. I’m fine.”

  “Don’t move!” She puts a hand on my shoulder. “I don’t know exactly what you did to Mr. Brooks, but he needs to be in jail, and you need to go to the hospital!”

  “It…” I push her hand away. “It wasn’t him.”

  It takes me a moment to get my composure, and Joanna is able to give an address before I can stop her. Whether I like it or not, the cops and paramedics are on their way. I’m groggy. My head is throbbing. I have at least one broken rib, maybe two. Diaz made sure his message was delivered, but I went down fighting. I hope I can find a little solace in that while I’m hating my life for the next couple of days.

  “You have to be fucking kidding me.” I retrieve my phone from my pocket and am greeted with a shattered screen.

  Two days. Two beatings. Two broken phones. That’s enough to piss me off more than the pain.

  “Don’t talk. You don’t need to move at all.” Joanna slides closer.

  She’s got my best interests at heart. I know that. I just don’t give a damn about myself right now. I got Diaz’s message loud and clear. He doesn’t know who he decided to fuck with, but he’s about to find out. I’ll tear his damn club apart with my bare hands if I have to. I made a deal with him that was fair, and he’s going to wish he had stuck with it. He dug his own fucking grave.

  “I’m okay.” I try to stand and slide back down to the pavement.

  “You’re far from okay, Mr. Ward.” Joanna shakes her head, and I see genuine concern on her face.

  She’s right. I’m a fucking mess. I may be ready to put Diaz down, but I can’t do it like this. Not unless I want to dig my own grave in the process.

  I hear sirens getting closer, and it isn’t long before the lights are flashing in the garage. The police arrive first and try to ask a few questions before the paramedics are at my side.

  “The man who did this is Lawson Brooks. He needs to be arrested!” Joanna’s voice—but that’s not the truth.

  “Wait.” I push the paramedic trying to assist me to the side, so that I can see Joanna and the police officer. “It wasn’t Lawson. He didn’t do this.”

  “Then who was it, sir?” The police officer turns to me.

  “That’s not important, but it wasn’t him.” I let out a long sigh.

  “I think it’s very important!” Joanna’s expression shifts to anger instead of concern. “He attacked you in your office yesterday!”

  “Is this true, sir?” The police officer tilts his head slightly.

  “I’m not pressing charges.” I shake my head even though it hurts.

  Another police officer walks over, and they start to discuss something, but I can’t hear them. The paramedics start firing off questions to see if I’m truly lucid or just punch-drunk and babbling. I’m not even sure myself.

  I’m too weak to stand. Letting them load me onto the stretcher is the only option. At least that will get me out of this damn garage and away from Joanna. I need to collect my thoughts and figure things out. I can’t do that right now.

  Once I give up on fighting the paramedics, they get me into the ambulance, and it pulls out of the parking garage. If someone had told me this was how my last two days would go, I would have told them they were crazy—now I feel like the crazy one. I find solace in the fact that I took on the debt regardless of what is has—and may—cost me.

  Kiana is safe. She may hate me and will never speak to me again, but she’s not in danger.

  I can live with that no matter how much it hurts.

  Emotionally and physically.

  Things begin to go by in a blur when I get to the hospital. They rush me into the emergency room, and I’m whisked off for a CT scan before I realize what is happening. I just let them work. The faster they do, the faster I can get out of here.

  Some of my strength is returning. I don’t think I’m as bad off as it seemed when I woke up in the parking garage. I guess Diaz’s thugs wanted to make sure I could still physically drag my ass to the bank and get the money. Too bad I don’t have enough to just pay them off and be done with all of this.

  Not that I would now. They took things to the next level, and I plan to finish it.

  After the CT scan is done, I get a few x-rays, and then I’m taken to a room where I stare at the ceiling for a few minutes while nurses swarm around me. Cuts are tended to. Bruises are checked. There’s not much they can do for my ribs, but they wrap them. The extra support does make it easier to breathe, but it still fucking hurts.

  Then I’m alone, staring at the ceiling again, wondering how long it’ll be before I have the strength to stand up.

  “Mr. Ward?” I hear a voice and lean up to see an older man in a white coat approaching my bed. “Good afternoon, I’m Dr. Colter.”

  “Hey, doc…” I force a smile. “How bad is it?”

  “The good news is that you don’t have a brain injury, so we can get you something for the pain.” He clicks a pen and makes a note. “I would like to keep you overnight for observation.”

  “No.” I shake my head. “I don’t want anything for the pain, and if I’m not going to die, then I’m ready to go.”

  “You’re not going to die, not today at least, but I’m not ready to discharge you quite yet. I’d like to keep an eye on those ribs just in case there is any sort of internal bleeding.” He shakes his head. “You’ll be our guest for a little bit. If you don’t want anything for the pain, I’m going to have the nurse bring something to help you relax.”

  I don’t argue. I simply wait for the doctor to leave and then start unhooking my IV. I’m not staying I the hospital overnight. I don’t have time for that. Every minute that ticks away is one step closer to Diaz’s deadline, and I intend to pay him a visit long before he expects me to. It will be a lot better for me if he doesn’t know I’m on my way to rain down the fires of hell on his whole operation.

  I get dressed and limp out of my room before the nurse arrives with whatever medicine the doctor wants her to shove in my veins.

  A few minutes later, I’m in the backseat of a taxi giving the driver the address to the same damn store I went to yesterday.

  “Mr. Ward?” Maria remembers me when I walk in. “Are you okay? Were you in an accident or something?”

  “You could say that.” I throw my broken phone on the counter. “I need that replaced.”

  “Wow, okay.” She nods. “It may take a few days for the insurance to approve it…”

  “Don’t worry about insurance. Just sell me a new one.” I lean against the counter and sigh.

  Maria looks confused, but she rings me up. I guess she remembers our interaction from yesterday. After I finish with her, I make the trip over to see Bob—the stare he gives me matches the one I got from Maria.

  “Ah, Mr. Ward.” He tilts his head slightly. “Did you have some problems with your data transfer?”

  “Nope, I just need you to do it again.” I toss the new phone on the counter.

  “Wow, you…” He picks up the new phone, and I shoot him a glare that quickly shuts him up. “I’ll get started immediately.”

  “Thank you.” I nod. “By the way, my text messages and phone calls didn’t get moved yesterday. Can you recover those this time?”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” He turns around to work.

  Leaving the hospital may have been a mistake. I’m certainly feeling the beating I took. I want to find Kiana, but I’m going to have to set that problem aside for the moment. I don’t have enough money in the bank to clear that fucking debt, and if Diaz doesn’t want to honor his deal, then I’ve got to take drastic action.

  God have mercy on that son of a bitch because he won’t get a single ounce of it from
me.

  I’ll finish this—my way.

  The adrenaline boost I got from fleeing the hospital is starting to fade. I feel better than I did when I woke up in the parking garage, but not well enough to storm Diaz’s club. Oh well. I’ll just have to take the risk.

  “Good news and bad news.” Bob turns back toward me. “I was able to get everything transferred and restored everything you’ve gotten since yesterday. No luck on the old messages or calls, though.”

  “Thanks.” I grab my phone and immediately check them.

  My heart skips a beat. I’ve got multiple missed calls from Kiana. She didn’t respond to my text message, but at least she tried to initiate contact.

  Suddenly, she’s my sole focus again. I call her as I walk outside and find a taxi that can take me to my car. No answer. I keep calling the entire way to the office and get nothing but voicemails.

  “Fucking hell, this is infuriating.” I slam my hand into the back of the seat and am immediately rewarded with a quick surge of pain.

  “Everything okay, sir?” The taxi driver glances back at me.

  “No, but it’s not your problem.” I sigh and look out the window.

  I get out of the taxi next to my car and try Kiana two more times before I finally give up. Maybe it’s better if we don’t talk right now. I need to live another twenty-four hours before I can make any new promises to her.

  The drive back to my house comes with it’s fair share of pain from every bump I hit. I’d love to have an opportunity to recover before I take on Diaz and his thugs, but that isn’t an option. I’ll just have to grit my teeth and tough it out—like I did in the desert when I was fighting someone else’s war.

  I’ve never been much of a post-military gun nut like some of the other soldiers I served with. I won’t be walking into Diaz’s club with my bare hands as my only defense, but I can’t blow the place up—somewhere in the middle will work fine. I sure as fuck wouldn’t mind having an M-16 in my hands, though.

  The first thing I do when I walk into my house is pour a drink. It’ll help dull some of the pain without messing with my head too much. After that, I go to my bedroom and pull out the few guns I own.

  Glock 19, .45 ACP, and a Mossberg 500. Two handguns and a shotgun. Hardly what I would call an arsenal. At least I have plenty of ammunition. One bullet will have Diaz’s name on it.

  I ponder my options for several minutes, and a knock at my front door pulls me out of my trance. I’m on high alert immediately. Did Diaz decide to show up at my house? Are his thugs back for more? I grab my Glock 19 and walk toward my front door with every ounce of caution I can muster—just as I hear a familiar voice on the other side.

  “Bram, you in there. We need to talk.” It’s Lawson.

  “What the fuck…” I mutter under my breath.

  I put myself against the door with the gun held ready and look through the peephole. Lawson’s face isn’t bellowing with rage—that’s a bit different from yesterday. Still, why would he show up at my house? He beat the fuck out of me the last time I saw him. There hasn’t been enough time for any of those wounds to heal.

  “What do you want, Lawson?” I answer him through the door. “Didn’t get enough licks in yesterday?”

  “I’m not going to hit you again.” He looks down and sighs. “You have my word.”

  Lawson’s word used to mean everything to me, but I used to think he was a good man too, so I’m still not entirely convinced he’s here with anything other than bad intentions.

  I should tell him to fuck off, but I can’t find enough anger inside of myself to turn him away. He looks disheveled. That’s my fault. He’s still Kiana’s father, even if he is an asshole. If he wants to have this conversation now, then we’ll have it. I push the Glock 19 into the back of my waistband and slowly open the door.

  “Come on in.” I step back and let him enter.

  “Fuck, man, I didn’t realize I beat your ass that bad.” He looks at me, perplexed.

  “Not all you…” I shake my head. “Want a drink?”

  “More than ever.” He nods.

  “If you’re not here to kick my ass again, then why are you here?” I pour two drinks and hand one to him.

  “Because I’m a fucking asshole, and I need to apologize to you.” He squeezes his glass in his hand, grimaces, and then downs every drop of whiskey.

  “Apologize?” I narrow my eyes.

  “I’m still pissed about you and Kiana. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not going to apologize for how I feel about that, but she told me what you did for her … and for Hudson.” His face twists into a look of remorse. “You were there for them when I wasn’t and…”

  “I was just trying to help.” I take a sip of my drink. “I didn’t intend for it to lead to what it did. I won’t apologize for it either. I care about your daughter, even if you don’t approve.”

  “I just saw… Fuck, man, I just saw my daughter and my best friend. It’s hard for me to look at her and not see the little girl I raised.” He pours himself another drink. “But she’s not a little girl anymore.”

  “No.” I look down for a moment. “She’s not.”

  “I think I lost my family today.” He tosses back his second drink.

  “What do you mean?” I tilt my head in confusion.

  “Kiana let Janie and I have it this morning. Guess she got that temper from me.” He sighs. “After Kiana left, Janie told me she wants a divorce.”

  “Are you serious?” I blink a couple of times in surprise. “Why?”

  “Because I’m a fucking horrible husband and an even worse father.” He shakes his head. “When Hudson got in over his head with all those gambling debts, I took care of them until I was literally bankrupt. I never told Janie that her son might not make it home again—I kept waiting for the phone to ring. I’m a fucking coward.”

  “I’m sorry, man.” I take another sip of my drink. “Maybe she’ll forgive you after all of this settles down. I wasn’t trying to cause problems for you. Everything happened so fast…”

  “It’s not entirely your fault. I’m the one who fucked up.” He pours himself another drink; he’s going to finish the bottle in an hour at this rate. “Those problems started a long time ago.”

  I begin to respond, but my phone buzzes, and I see Kiana’s number on the screen.

  “I need to take this.” I make sure Lawson can’t see who is calling.

  “No problem. I’m just going to sit here and drink your whiskey. I guess you owe me that much.” He grabs the bottle and sits on the couch.

  I have a few thoughts going through my head, but I can’t even begin to process them. I just want to hear Kiana’s voice.

  “Kiana!” I answer the phone once I’m sure I’m out of earshot of Lawson.

  “No, Bram Ward.” It’s a voice I recognize—a voice that belongs to the guy who approached me in the parking garage. “But she’s here with me right now. Pretty girl…”

  “You…” Everything inside me comes unhinged in an instant. “You son of a bitch, this is between Diaz and me! She has nothing to do with it! Your boss sure as fuck likes to remind me that the debt became mine the second we made that deal!”

  “Oh, I’m well aware that she has nothing to do it with.” He laughs. “Consider this call some extra incentive to make sure you bring Mr. Diaz his money by the end of the day tomorrow.”

  “If you hurt her…” I tense up, and it sends pain shooting through my body.

  “I won’t hurt her, Bram Ward. She’s going to enjoy every single thing I do to her tonight.” He laughs again.

  I yell obscenities into the phone, but the asshole on the other end hangs up. I might have done a good job of hiding who was calling, but Lawson obviously heard my response. He’s standing behind me when I turn around.

  “What was that about?” He knows—or he has some idea at least, but he’s afraid to say it.

  “That asshole Diaz!” I throw my phone down. “He has Kiana!”

 
“I thought you handled that debt…” His face reflects even more confusion.

  “I did, but this motherfucker just won’t let it go.” I storm toward my bedroom. “I made a deal with him. He wants the debt paid in full by tomorrow.”

  “He took Kiana to make sure that happens…” Lawson fills in the rest.

  “Yeah, well, don’t worry.” I grab my .45 ACP and my shotgun. “I’m going to get her right now.”

  “Hold on, Bram.” He blocks the door. “Are you sure this is a good idea? I’ve been inside that club—those guys aren’t going to just stand there while you shoot at them. You look like you already lost one fight today…”

  “Diaz is expecting me by the end of the day tomorrow.” I pick up some ammo and start shoving it into my pockets. “I’ll make damn sure he doesn’t see me coming.”

  “I’m coming with you.” Lawson puts the bottle down.

  I knew I wasn’t going in there alone the second I turned around and saw the look on Lawson’s face. I could argue. I could tell him that I can handle this myself. But I won’t. Not when Diaz has his daughter. I’ll be a whole lot better off with him by my side anyway, even if he’s had a few stiff drinks. Hell, that always made him a better shot when we were in the desert anyway.

  “What do you want?” I toss the shotgun down and hold up the Glock 19 and .45 ACP.

  “That’s all you have?” He appears to be considering the options. “Fuck that, I know where we can get some better options.”

  “Where?” I tuck the handguns into the back of my belt and pick up the shotgun.

  “Keaton. There’s a reason I hire him every time we have a high-profile client in town—well, used to…” He nods. “He owes us one.”

  It wouldn’t be a bad idea to talk to Keaton before we go storming into Diaz’s club anyway, considering who he knows. The De Luca family runs this city, and while Diaz doesn’t have any ties to them, they don’t like it when things get ugly—unless they’re the ones making it get ugly.

  We’ll have a lot fewer problems tomorrow if they know what we’re going to do before it happens. I don’t give a fuck about their blessing, but I’d rather not have to answer any of their questions if there is a way to avoid it.