“I’m so scared,” I admitted.
“Know that, too. But it’s only been three hours. They’ll be home soon.”
“How do you know?”
“Because we’re damn good at what we do. Because I trust my team. Because I know Weston will stop at nothing to take care of you.”
I nodded because I knew Jameson was right. About all of it. But the wait was killing me. Everything I could possibly think of that could go wrong was filtering through my mind, torturing me with what-ifs.
The door slammed open. Jameson moved quick, pushing me behind him, his big body shielding me before he relaxed and moved aside.
My breath caught in my throat, and my vision blurred as a bloodied Weston stalked across the room.
I couldn’t take my eyes off the red staining his shirt.
Blood.
He was bleeding.
Weston made it to me. His hands going to my face, he forced my eyes up to meet his.
“Your dad’s been transported to the hospital. He’s stable.” I didn’t let out a breath of relief. Mainly because there was no oxygen in my lungs. They’d seized, completely non-operational. “He’s gonna be fine, baby.”
“You’re hurt,” I wheezed.
“I’m fine—”
“You’re hurt.”
“It’s just—”
“You’re bleeding!” I screamed. “You’re hurt and bleeding. Why aren’t you at the hospital?”
“Baby—”
“You’re hurt, Weston. Yourehurtyourehurtyourehurt!”
All of my words jumbled together as I shouted at Weston.
His grip on my face tightened and he brought his forehead to mine.
“Listen to me, sweetheart. I’m fine. It’s a graze. Jameson will stitch me later tonight.”
“Jameson will stitch you up?”
“Not the first time,” Jameson cut in. “Few months back, gave him thirteen.”
“He did what?” I was back to shrieking.
“Stop worrying about my arm and let’s get you to your dad. He’s asking about you. But fair warning, he’s pissed as shit you were gonna give yourself up in the exchange.”
“He’s pissed?” I tried to pull back but Weston kept me where he wanted.
“Learned a few things about your dad today. His intentions might be misguided but he loves you somethin’ fierce. Would’ve rather died today than you putting yourself in harm’s way.”
“He said that?”
“Straight out, Silver. Said he wanted to die before you were hurt. Travis knew where you were, he wanted your dad to come and get you. Dale refused. He took one hell of a beating, but held out.”
“Wes—”
I didn’t get anything else out before the sob I was holding in ripped through me and Weston pulled me into his arms. And for the second time that day, my tears soaked his shirt.
“Hey, Dad,” I whispered.
“Hey there, Scout.”
I glanced around the room and focused on the monitors in an effort to regain my composure. My dad looked horrible. Even with all the blood cleaned away, his face was a mess. I’d been told he had broken ribs, his wrist was fractured, and he had a concussion.
“Dad—”
“I was a jerk,” he cut me off. “See that now.”
“Dad—”
“Trying to live my dream through you or pushing my dream on you. Not sure which, but I know I did wrong. Know I shoulda listened to you when you were a teenager. Know I was selfish not wanting to give up my time with you, what I want for you, so blinded by it, I never stopped to think about what you wanted. I’m sorry about that, Scout. Hope one day you can forgive me.”
Weston’s hand in mine flexed and I glanced up at him.
He was the picture of strength. From his messy hair, his chiseled jaw, the beard he’d let grow making him look even more menacing. All the way down to his powerful thighs. He stood next to me, holding me together.
Treasure.
He’d thought that was what he’d found, but he was wrong. That was what he was giving me. He was the something special I never thought I would have. The very person I was meant to be with, stand next to, the man I was meant to spend my life with. I’d known it all along. But right then, I knew I’d never lose it. I’d never let it go to waste. I’d cherish him for the gift he was—always.
“I shouldn’t have said those things to you, Dad. I’m sorry.”
“Damn right, you should’ve. I needed to hear them. If you’ll let me, I’d like to make it right. I know it’s asking a lot, but I hope you’ll forgive me.”
That was twice my father had asked me to forgive him.
“Nothing to forgive, but if you insist, I’ll make you a deal. You forgive me for being the worst daughter in the history of daughters and I’ll forgive you. Though I will say again, I don’t think there’s anything to forgive.”
My dad smiled at me, shook his head, and looked at Weston.
“Stubborn,” my dad mumbled.
“Not telling me anything I don’t already know, Dale.” Weston chuckled.
“Right.”
“That wasn’t me being stubborn.”
“Right,” my dad repeated.
“It wasn’t. I know when I’m being stubborn.”
“Okay.” My dad laughed.
“I wasn’t—”
I didn’t get to finish because Weston’s lips were on mine, silencing me.
“Only you can be stubborn and argue about being stubborn, while being stubborn.”
“But—”
“You gonna argue or visit with your dad?”
I glared at Weston a moment, contemplating whether or not I was ready to give up my snit or if I wanted to argue some more, when my dad’s very loud laughter filled the room.
“Damn,” he grouched. “Sucks it hurts so bad when I finally have something to be happy about.”
I turned to my dad, snit over, and smiled.
Weston didn’t have broken ribs so it didn’t hurt when he laughed. So that’s what he did. The sound of it filled the room and settled over me.
“We have some news for you, Dale,” Weston started, and plastered me against his side.
“Good news, I hope.”
“The best news,” I told him.
And that was when it finally hit me, the joy and excitement. All of it came crashing over me, and for the first time in my life, I felt nothing but happiness.
35
Two days later, Weston stood in bright October sun, a slight fall chill in the air, with Silver tucked close, and watched as Nixon and McKenna took their vows.
It was then that Weston knew, that was the very spot, with the beauty of Nixon’s land surrounding them, where he wanted to marry Silver.
“Mrs. Swagger.” Silver giggled as she pulled Micky in for a hug.
“Congratulations,” Weston added.
“Thank you.” Micky looked around the small tent and smiled.
“Everything’s perfect, just like you said it would be.”
“Yeah,” she agreed. But Weston knew the moment they’d lost McKenna’s attention.
Her eyes went lazy when she spotted her husband. A look he’d seen from Silver, a look he’d work his ass off to keep getting for the rest of his life.
“You’re there,” Weston growled, and lifted his head from the crook of Silver’s neck. “Fuck baby, so good.”
“So good, honey. Harder.”
Weston gave his woman what she wanted and drove deep, her pussy clamped down and he knew she’d found it. Silver’s nails dug into his back, her sexy legs wrapped around his waist and he pounded deep until he found it.
“Love you, Silver,” Weston groaned and stayed rooted.
His cock throbbed as he spilled himself into Silver’s hot, tight pussy. But he wasn’t thinking about how good it felt. He wasn’t thinking about the beauty she created every time they came together. Not how she went wild for him, how she mewed his name, begged him for more.
No, Weston was thinking about the day he’d make her his wife. And how that day was going to be soon.
Three days later Weston put a bid on the house next to Nixon and McKenna. Two hours later his offer was accepted.
A week later Weston, Nixon, and Alec were sitting in a fancy restaurant in DC across from Ellis Hopper. They hadn’t been invited, nor had Ellis offered them the seats they were now occupying when they’d found him eating lunch alone.
“You still don’t get it,” Hopper said. “That’s your problem.”
“Get what?” Alec snapped.
“How to play the game.”
“What fuckin’ game is that? You scratch my back, I scratch yours? Or more to the point, you give fuckwits a heads’ up they’re about to be arrested and they line your pockets.”
“No money was exchanged,” Hopper defended.
“And that makes it right?”
“What it makes is smart. That’s the part you don’t get. In this city, it’s good to be owed markers. Even better when those markers belong to powerful men.”
“You’re right, I don’t get it. Never will. But I have learned a few things.”
“Pray tell, Alec, what have you learned?” Hopper asked, irritation lacing his tone.
“How to play the game.” Alec leaned in. “Travis is dead, the half-wit brother of his as well.”
“You’re wasting my time telling me something I know,” Hopper complained.
“Right. I’ll get to my point then. Silver Coyle is off-limits. You’ll spread that far and wide. Anyone thinking about retribution should think again.”
“That’s not in my control.”
“You better make it in your control, Ellis, you don’t handle that situation you’ll find yourself in a world of hurt. You may like to be owed markers by powerful men. But I like to hold the strings of weak men who conspire and betray the oaths they’ve taken to uphold the law.”
“You don’t—”
“I have everything I need to bury you. Anyone moves in on Silver or Gemini Group I’m holding you personally responsible.”
“It’s a good thing you’ve resigned,” Hopper sneered.
“Yeah. Good thing.”
With that, Alec stood and the rest of the men followed, then they followed Alec out of the restaurant and stopped on the sidewalk.
“Piece of shit,” Alec grumbled.
Ellis Hopper had nothing to do with Silver’s father being taken and beaten. He had nothing to do with the drugs being moved. The only thing Hopper was guilty of was tipping off Sposato. Travis had acted out of greed and anger, roping his brother into a kidnapping scheme that hadn’t ended in the way they’d hoped. But it had ended with both of them no longer breathing. Something Weston didn’t feel remorse about.
“Ready to go home?” Nixon asked.
“Fuck, yeah. I close on the house this afternoon,” Alec announced.
“You and Jameson, neighbors.” Nix chuckled and shook his head. “Glad you came to your senses and came to work for us.”
“Yeah. My checkbook doesn’t agree with the pay cut,” Alec snickered.
“Right.”
As much as Weston was enjoying his friends’ banter, he wanted to get home to Silver. They had a lot to celebrate.
Or they would when she accepted his ring.
36
Alec Hall walked into his house and tossed his coat over the back of the couch and looked around. There was no doubt the house was too big. He didn’t need five bedrooms. He didn’t need the acreage that came with it. The formal dining room, formal living room, along with a study. But he also couldn’t deny it was perfect.
The previous owners had taken great care over the years as they upgraded the kitchen, the three bathrooms, and the floors. Alec had also purchased the house for a song. The bank wanted out from under it, and Alec had gone in with a cash offer.
So now, Alec was the proud new owner of a too-big house and more land than he knew what to do with. Something Nix had said he’d help him sort out come spring.
Alec wandered through the great room into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and pulled out a beer. Before he could pop the top, there was a knock at his door.
He wasn’t expecting company. As a matter of fact, he’d just left everyone he knew at McKenna and Nixon’s house. A surprise engagement party for Weston and Silver. It was still early, but there was only so much he could take of everyone’s could-not-be-missed happiness. Even Jameson’s grumpy ass was smiling and laughing. Something Alec never thought he’d see from the man who’d spent years with a perpetual scowl.
It wasn’t that Alec wasn’t happy for his friends, because he was, but that didn’t mean that the celebration wasn’t a stark reminder he was thirty-eight years old and alone, with nothing but a string of hookups and uninteresting women in his past.
The knock came again and Alec set down his unopened beer and made his way to the front door. Tapping his hip, he felt his sidearm, and opened the door without looking. Something in his line of work he shouldn’t have done, but these days, Alec felt like living on the edge.
On the edge of what, he did not know. He just knew he needed something, anything, and nothing beat the adrenaline rush of a good tussle.
A man he’d never seen dressed in an ill-fitting suit opened the storm door, and the woman standing next to him moved slightly behind the pudgy man as if she were seeking protection. The sight almost made him smile. He got that a lot. He’d also been told more times than he could remember that the way he looked scared most people.
“Alec Hall?”
“And who are you?” Alex returned.
“Are you Alec Hall?”
“Yeah. And you are?” Alec repeated, not concealing his annoyance.
“Detective Johnson, DCPD. This is Miss Walters from the family liaison unit. May we come in and have a word?”
“What’s this about?”
“May we come in?” Miss Walters asked. “I’m afraid what we have to tell you may take some time.”
Alec stepped clear of the door and waited for the pair to walk into the entryway.
“Follow me.”
He moved them into the great room and offered them a seat. Detective Johnson declined but Miss Walters sat and opened her briefcase.
“Mr. Hall—”
“Alec.”
“Alec,” the detective began. “I’m very sorry to inform you of this, but Jamie Fields has passed away. A car—”
“Who?” Alec questioned, and the detective jerked in surprise before he looked at Miss Walters who was now shuffling through the papers she’d taken out.
“Jamie Lynn Fields,” the woman semi-repeated as if that would somehow make Alec remember who this Jamie person was.
“Sorry. I don’t know a Jamie Fields or any other Jamie for that matter. I think you have the wrong Alec Hall.”
“But, sir, you’re listed on the birth certificate.”
“Come again?”
“Ms. Fields listed you on her daughter’s birth certificate. Your last known address matches—”
“I’m sorry, did you say her daughter?”
“Yes.”
Now Alec knew they had the wrong man. He certainly didn’t have a daughter.
“You’ve—”
But before Alec could explain they’d made a trip to Maryland for no reason, Miss Walters proceeded to rock his world. The very foundation of it crumbled as the woman explained that Jamie Fields had planned for her death, she left strict instructions on what was to be done with her daughter in the event of her demise, and Jamie had also left a sealed envelope with Alec’s name scrolled across it in pretty handwriting.
Alec stared at the letter like it was a venomous serpent ready to infect him with a deadly toxin. The woman shook the envelope, urging Alec to take it.
He reluctantly took it and ripped it open.
Just like a Band-Aid, he thought to himself. Open it, read it, then tell these people he was not the man they w
ere looking for.
But even as he told himself that, dread had started to take root.
Alec,
If you are reading this then something has happened to me and I now owe you an explanation. One I never wanted to give but knew in my heart you deserved. All we had together was one night. It was a great night. Well, for me it was. I had left my disaster of a marriage six months before I met you and that night was the first time I’d felt the stirrings of the old me returning. Then I saw you sitting at the bar and you stole my breath. So handsome, but like me, you looked lost. When I sat next to you and you turned your piercing blue eyes on me and smiled, I knew I was going to do something crazy. And I did. I hit on you. But instead of catching my play you laughed at me.
Jesus Christ. Jesus fucking Christ.
He remembered her. All of it. Only she didn’t introduce herself as Jamie, she called herself Lynn.
Jamie Lynn Fields.
Shit, the woman was pretty. Not beautiful, but pretty. Girl next door that looked way out of her element sitting in a swank bar in DC, even if she’d been dressed to the nines. She was right in her assessment—she looked lost. What Alec hadn’t known was that she recognized that same observation.
And Alec had laughed at her lame attempt to pick him up, but instead of it being a turn-off it had been cute as hell. So he’d decided he’d turn the tables. Not even two hours later, he’d taken her back to his place. After that, there hadn’t been any talking. The next morning, she was gone. No goodbye. No note. Nothing. Lynn had vanished and all Alec had felt was relief he didn’t need to have the uncomfortable talk about why there wouldn’t be a second time.
Christ, he was a dick.
Alec shook off the memory and went back to the letter.
I’m sorry about the way I left. I’d never done that and I’m sure right about now you’re rolling your eyes because I’m sure you’ve heard that a thousand times, but it’s true. I married my high school sweetheart. He was my first. Then I spent the next fifteen years in a loveless marriage to an asshole who didn’t like me much, but that was okay because I didn’t like him. You were the second man, I’d ever slept with.
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