Lord Have Mercy (The Southern Gentleman Series Book 2)

by Lani Lynn Vale

  -Camryn’s secret thoughts

  Camryn

  Freshly showered, dressed in clothes I should’ve taken to the Goodwill but didn’t, I walked into the football game with my nipples tingling.

  Why were my nipples tingling?

  Because twenty minutes before, Flint had rubbed his hands all over the tops of my breasts, and need had poured through me at lightning speed.

  I wasn’t sure he realized what exactly he was doing to me, but I sure as hell didn’t complain.

  “Hi, Ms. Presley!” I heard called.

  I looked up to find a cheerleader, Meg, who was in my class last year, waving at me spastically. “Hello, Megumi.”

  She grinned and kept bouncing her way down the track, talking to people along the way.

  I slid and slinked my way through the crowd, very aware that Flint was only a few steps away from me the entire time that I moved.

  He’d been following me since I’d left his gym.

  I felt like I was being stalked.

  He’d followed me out of the gym, and I thought that I’d lost him, but at some point, he’d not only picked up his dog—while I’d been at Subway grabbing a wrap—but he’d found me in the parking lot as well. I’d gotten out of my car and walked to the gate along with a few other parents and students, and at some point, he’d gotten behind me and hadn’t left me since.

  I was tempted to turn around and glare at him, but I didn’t want him to think that I cared.

  But then Carver stepped in front of me, his hands raised as if to stop my forward momentum, and grinned.

  I frowned.

  Carver was cute and all, but the more I got to know him, the less that I liked him.

  I’d seen him talking to Nivea the day before, and I couldn’t seem to figure out how the hell Carver didn’t see through Nivea’s lies.

  And now he was standing there as if he hadn’t heard Nivea talking trash about me. I hadn’t missed how he hadn’t defended me, either.

  Not that it truly bothered me. He was cute and all, but that attraction that I found I had to him was nothing compared to the attraction that I felt with Flint.

  I stepped back and immediately hit something hard.

  Flint.

  Carver’s smile fell off his face, and he stared at me, and then Flint. His eyes went wide.

  “Hello, Carver,” Flint said, his hand going around my belly.

  I felt my entire body clench—both with need and with shock.

  His hand was hot and hard on my belly, and I wanted nothing more than to put my hand over his and guide our hands down to between my legs where a very insistent throbbing had started.

  Hell, to show how far gone I was, I hadn’t even shied away from him when I felt his K-9 officer, Dooley, settle at our sides. He was so close that his ear was touching my thigh.

  My heart was pounding, but not in fear.

  In need.

  “Uhh, Flint.” Carver smiled, his eyes hard. “How’s it going?”

  I blinked in surprise.

  I’d never seen Carver look pissed before, but I would have to say that at this instant, I thought he just might be.

  Curious.

  I honestly never thought I’d see the day. He was so soft-spoken and jovial.

  I really didn’t think he gave a shit about me, either.

  I mean, if he had, when I’d heard him in the teacher’s lounge earlier talking with Nivea, surely he would’ve said something if he’d cared.

  Yet, based on the look on his face, he wasn’t happy about Flint’s closeness to me.

  Then again, I wasn’t happy either.

  I wasn’t happy because I liked his closeness, and I knew that it was fake.

  I didn’t like how I liked it, and it felt good, and I wanted more.

  Fuck me.

  “It’s going good. How are you doing? Enjoying the game?” Flint asked almost absentmindedly.

  His attention had turned elsewhere.

  Where, you ask?

  He’d focused entirely on me, skimming his mouth up and down my neck.

  I didn’t stiffen in his arms like I should have, either. I fucking melted.

  My knees went weak, and the feel of Flint’s lips pressing against my racing pulse was nothing that I had ever felt before.

  I was twenty-nine years old, had four steady boyfriends, slept with three of them, and had never once felt anything like what I was feeling right then.

  If I could bottle this feeling up and sell it, it’d be a better high than cocaine…at least, I thought it could be. I wasn’t too sure, to be honest. I couldn’t really compare it because I’d never done cocaine before.

  I shivered and felt my eyes turn to slits, my breathing started to quicken, and suddenly I didn’t care if this was fake.

  I turned in Flint’s arms and stared at him with need.

  But anger was there also.

  I didn’t like what he was doing to me.

  He was playing with my emotions, and I didn’t like it at all.

  I conveyed that fact with a brutal kiss and then bit his lip hard before I pulled away.

  “Don’t fuck with me because you don’t like Carver,” I growled, trying to pull myself away.

  His hands had locked around me, though, and he refused to let me go after I’d proven how angry I was.

  “I don’t like Carver,” he agreed, his voice soft and low despite the crowd that was around us nearly causing me to not hear him. I could read his lips, though. I couldn’t take my eyes off of them. “And I’m not fucking with you. If I was fucking with you, I would do it in other ways that didn’t have my cock pressing against your ass.”

  With that he let me go, and I nearly stumbled at the loss of his heat.

  He caught my arm before I could so much as sway, though, pulling me back in until I was once again in control of myself.

  “What was that?” I hissed.

  Flint shrugged. “I don’t like that guy.”

  That was his only explanation.

  Nothing more, nothing less.

  And before I could demand more answers out of him than that crappy excuse, he left without once turning back, disappearing into the large crowd.

  Dooley looked back at me, his face sad for a second before he too turned and marched next to his owner.

  He stayed tucked close to Flint’s backside so he wouldn’t accidentally get trampled.

  “All right,” Raleigh said practically into my ear. “What the fuck was that?”

  I shook my head and turned to my best friend. “I have no fucking clue.”

  She shook her head and then let her eyes drop.

  They went wide.

  “I thought you were tossing those clothes out?” Raleigh whined. “I specifically remember putting that into the basket and ordering you to throw it away.”

  I snorted. “These are the clothes that you forced me to wear. It’s not my fault you made me come here. Now you get to deal with the shirt. Sorry.”

  The ‘shirt’ under question was actually an NSYNC shirt that I’d cut up the sides and had tied into knots to make it smaller. The sleeves had long ago been cut off, and honestly, there really wasn’t much to the shirt.

  Luckily, I had a camisole with a built-in bra I could wear underneath of it, covering all the juicy bits that might’ve spilled out of the mangled tee.

  “And the shorts.” She rolled her eyes. “I thought those didn’t fit anymore.”

  “Apparently two weeks at CrossFit has made my ass smaller.” I laughed. Then eyed her. “Have you noticed any difference?”

  She looked down at her body. “My boobs are smaller.”

  I glanced at the boobs and shook my head. “Those things aren’t smaller…where’s your son?”

  Her son was six and a half months old and normally was attached at her hip when she wasn’t working.

  “Ezra is passing him around like a good luck charm through the locker room.” She shivered. “I hope they all washed their hands.”
r />   I winced. “The last time I was in a locker room like that it was during my brother’s senior year of high school. I had to go in there with him to help him clean out his locker. Let’s just say, the things that go on in a locker room should stay in the locker room…and you should probably bring some of those Lysol wipes with you so you can wipe him down next time.”

  Raleigh stuck out her tongue. “It’s not that bad.”

  I gave her a look. “I saw some boy smother another boy with someone else’s dirty jock strap. A jock strap that he hadn’t washed in eight games because it was his ‘lucky’ jock strap. He wore it to college uncleaned the next season. Trust me when I say, boys are gross.”

  “How is Tanner doing, by the way?” Raleigh asked.

  Tanner being a family friend that I only ever kept up with through social media now that he’d moved so far away.

  “Tanner is…okay,” I hesitated. “He’s still coaching for that prep school in New Braunfels, but I have a feeling that won’t last much longer since he got divorced from Sadie. He didn’t want to move there anyway, but with her getting that huge promotion with her law firm, he was forced to. Now with her not holding him there, I doubt he’ll stay.”

  “Luckily they didn’t have kids.” Raleigh shivered. “The thought of having to divorce someone and then have to deal with kids gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

  “You shouldn’t be thinking about divorcing anyone,” I heard Ezra drawl from behind us.

  I turned to see Ezra holding their child snugly in his arms staring at his wife with annoyance.

  Raleigh shrugged. “Just because I don’t like thinking about it doesn’t mean that I’d ever considered a divorce with you.” She paused. “I think killing you in your sleep might be more effective. Then you wouldn’t get the bed—which I know that you’d fight for custody of if we split.”

  “You’re wrong,” he handed their kid over the chain-link fence, and she stood up to get him. “I would’ve fought over the baby and the dog. You can have the bed, though. You get more out of it than I do.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  The bed was a bone of contention with the two of them. While Raleigh had been pregnant, they’d gotten a new bed. The bed had turned into Raleigh’s favorite thing while being pregnant, and Ezra accused her and the bed of having a love affair and her loving the bed more than him.

  Honestly, the bed was really nice.

  I’d considered getting myself one exactly like it, that was how nice it was.

  “Ezra, why does he smell like ass?” Raleigh wrinkled her nose.

  “Because I had to use an old gym sock to wipe his ass after he shit himself. You’re lucky that I cleaned him up at all. It was a close thing.” He turned and walked away without another word.

  “He’s right, you know,” I pointed out. “He could’ve just as easily left him dirty for you to clean him up yourself.”

  “Meet me in the bathroom. I have to go get him wiped down. This is disgusting.” She wrinkled her nose even more.

  “I told you that boys were gross,” I told her.

  She flipped me off and pushed through the crowd, not stopping until she’d made her way into the bathroom.

  Luckily with the game starting up, everybody had made their way to the seats instead of hanging out around the concession stand and the bathrooms.

  Unluckily, despite the game starting, there was still a line.

  “Just push up there and use the sink,” I told her. “He’s not dirty. You don’t need one of those stalls.”

  “True,” she murmured, heading in the direction of an open space along the sink area.

  I pushed through with her, leaning in to check my face out in the mirror.

  I had sweat dripping down my spine, and I had a fine sheen of it coating my face.

  It was hot as balls outside and coming up here after a workout wasn’t helping matters.

  “Gross,” Raleigh muttered to herself.

  I looked at her son in the mirror and grinned at the onesie she had on him.

  “I like the onesie,” I said. “I especially love the ‘Duff’ at the top. Did you get it made?”

  “Etsy,” she answered. “I bought it like eight months ago and it fits him perfectly. How cool is that?”

  She turned the front around so I could see, and I smiled even wider. “My daddy is the coach?”

  Raleigh grinned.

  “Excuse me, but there are people that are actually here to use the facilities,” an annoyed voice said from behind me.

  I nearly broke myself with how hard I rolled my eyes.

  “Sorry, Nivea,” I apologized, backing away from the sink.

  Nivea shoved through the hole I’d made and pushed me sideways. It took everything I had not to punch her in the head.

  Instead, I tapped Raleigh’s shoulder. “I’m going to wait outside for you.”

  Raleigh nodded, her eyes wide and angry.

  Yet she didn’t say anything, just like I didn’t.

  Unfortunately, we were in a public place, representing our school where we worked at that. There were at least six students in here who knew either me, Raleigh, or Nivea. A showdown in the bathroom would make its way through the entire student body in seconds.

  Making my way past the women still waiting in line, I pushed through the door and moved into the shadows, snugging up against the chain-link fence that ran along the back of the bathrooms.

  The chain-link fence separated the parking lot from the field so that you couldn’t sneak in without paying first. Not that it was all that expensive to get in. Three dollars for students and faculty, seven for adults, and one dollar for senior citizens. Really, the school made their killing off of the concession stand.

  I mean, who would pay seven dollars for a plate of crappy bulk-sized tortilla chips and a large helping of crappy yellow cheese?

  Well, the old me would have. I’d been a freakin’ sucker for the good stuff.

  Now? The new me? I had a will of steel.

  That was why I was forcing myself to ignore the craving.

  Oh, and I’d also left my wallet in the car. I wouldn’t be tempted to be bad!

  Though, having Flint there to watch my every move—or potentially watching my every move—was enough encouragement to contain my wants and desires.

  “Why are you standing in the shadows?”

  I jumped nearly a foot and whirled, heart pounding somewhere in the vicinity of my throat, and stared at the man I’d just been thinking about.

  He was leaning against the fence almost casually, almost as if he’d been hiding himself.

  “Nivea’s in the bathroom and I want to avoid her at all costs,” I admitted, leaning against the fence with one shoulder. “But I don’t want to leave completely because Raleigh’s in there washing her son off with wipes.”

  “Why is she washing her son off with wipes?” he questioned.

  “He smells,” I told him honestly. “Apparently he had a blowout in the locker room, and Ezra cleaned him up as best as he could—which happened to be with some old socks or something.”

  Flint chuckled low, and I’d wished I could see his face.

  The shadows were too deep where we were standing, though.

  “Why are you in the shadows?” I questioned.

  He shrugged, causing the chain-link fence to clink. “People will do stupid stuff when they think nobody is watching,” he said. “I’m just chilling here, making sure that nothing unsavory happens over here where the kids think nobody is watching.”

  I scooted closer when the women’s bathroom door kicked open, nearly taking my head off in the process with the doorstop that kept it from hitting the wall and breaking.

  “Jesus,” I hissed. “That nearly took out my eye.”

  That was about when I realized his hand was around my waist, and I was breathing heavier.

  “I’m fairly sure that doorstop is at my forehead level, and I have at least eight inches on you,” he said. “What are y
ou, five foot three at most?”

  When I was in heels.

  When I wasn’t, I was five foot one.

  “Sure,” I shrugged.

  His low chuckle led me to believe that he was more than aware that I’d just lied.

  A wet tongue licked my hand, and my good mood vanished. It was replaced with a nightmare.

  ***

  I was doing my homework on the living room floor while my parents watched the latest episode of Dateline. Vaguely I recalled the show featuring a set of serial killers with similar motives, and how at first the two were mistaken for the same killer.

  I was trying to listen as well as do my geometry homework when a low scrape at the front door had me glancing up.

  The moment my eyes hit the newly painted wood door, it exploded.

  Shards of wood and blue paint went flying as a puff of smoke filled the room.

  Black shapes filed in through the small opening, and I panicked.

  My parents were scared to stillness in their recliners, both of them staring openmouthed at the black-clad men that were yelling and screaming for us to put our hands in the air.

  I, on the other hand, only reacted.

  Acting on instinct, I started to scream and dashed through the living room toward my bedroom—my safe place—the place where nobody but me was ever allowed.

  And, before I could even make it past the entrance to the hallway, I was taken down.

  Pain exploded through my leg, and soon something sharper and even more painful sank into my arm.

  It was only when I was kicking and screaming, struggling and wailing, that it finally occurred to me that a dog was on top of me, snarling and snapping, using me as a chew toy.

  Everybody was yelling, but I could only focus on the pain.

  It hurt.

  Oh God, did it hurt.

  Every time I moved or twitched, the dog would clamp his mouth down even harder.

  But I couldn’t stop myself from trying to yank away.

  My skin was torn, and I could feel the blood leaking all over the place.

  My entire body was slick with it, and even though I could hear someone yelling at me to remain still, I couldn’t help the freak out that poured through me.

  At fifteen years old, I thought I was a badass.

  It was then in that moment that I realized that I was nowhere near as fearless as I thought I was.