Redeeming

by Calle J. Brookes

  “It takes time. Unless it’s a very distinctive handwriting.” She took the paper when he handed it to her.

  Her eyes widened and her fingers tightened on the note. “What does this mean?”

  “I think it means just what it says. I need to stay out of other people’s businesses or I’ll pay the price. But in much less pretty words.”

  “What do you need from me?”

  “Easy. Tonight, I’ll be collecting pledge cards. Handwritten. For the charity I oversee. I need you to help me sort them later and determine just exactly who wrote this one.”

  “That’s a long shot. This isn’t a very detailed sample, and lots of factors can change or influence handwriting. You could have asked me this tomorrow, too. You didn’t need to force me to come tonight.”

  “No. I didn’t. But I did need an escort, and I needed a handwriting analyst. You fit both bills. So here we are.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Her dress was the best silk her money could buy, and the rich red color flattered her skin and hair. She expertly applied the eye makeup to enhance the blue. She looked fifteen years younger than her actual fifty, and she knew it. Cultivated it.

  She was her brand, after all.

  Tonight was one of the perks of the business she had been building for the last thirty years, and she was entitled to enjoy every single minute of it. And she would. Her blonde hair was expertly coifed, with just enough sexy tendrils flirting with the back of her neck.

  She looked damned good for a woman her age. And she was going to capitalize on that tonight.

  Her escort for the evening let himself in to her home fifteen minutes early. He looked beautiful in his tux.

  Her sons always looked their best. Both of them…all three of them.

  She took a moment to study him. He was tall and his shoulders broad. He had her coloring. The rest of his features he must have gotten from the man who’d fathered him.

  She wasn’t one hundred percent certain who that was. Thirty years ago she’d been in a bad place, and she’d turned to alcohol to numb herself.

  His birth had sobered her up quickly.

  His brother had followed five years later. His father she remembered. She’d buried him four years ago. He’d left her enough money and a legitimate business.

  She’d grown that business exponentially since. She would always be thankful for what that man had given her, and she didn’t just mean her younger son. Her sons were her joy and her purpose.

  Everything she had done in this world was to provide them with the life they deserved.

  Nothing would interfere with that.

  She’d go to the mayor’s dinner, play the pretty pretty with everyone there, and then take a moment or two with the governor to discuss her latest venture.

  And learn what she would have to do to get around the environmental issues standing in her way.

  And then she’d turn her attention back to that thorn in her side, Davis Lucas.

  No one interfered with her family business. No one. Even the richest man in St. Louis and his damned ‘save-the-earth-protect-the-planet-go-green’ bullshit.

  Chapter Twelve

  He held her arm and Payton half thought that was to keep her from bolting. She wasn’t made for fancy parties involving the governor and state senators, and people she’d never meet in the rest of her lifetime. The women were all beautiful—or at least dressed in the most beautiful, most expensive clothing she’d ever seen. It made her wonder just how much he’d paid for the dress she wore. More nerves hit her, making her want to turn and run. “Mr. Lucas…”

  “Luc, sweetheart. It won’t do for you to call me mister tonight. Try it. Luc. I want to hear you say it, and then I can imagine you saying it to me later—when we’re alone.”

  “Luc, I don’t know about this. I’m not sure what to do…”

  He brushed her hair off her cheek, his expression soft and indulgent. She was vaguely aware of someone calling his name as flashes of light surrounded them. Photographers, journalists—that just made her all the more nervous. He kissed her cheek and whispered in her ear. “You’ll do fine. Just stay close to me, and make small talk. That’s all I need from you until later.”

  “And what happens later?” She realized her mistake when he grinned. “Luc…”

  “We’ll talk about that inside.”

  She had no real choice but to follow him in. “I didn’t agree to photographers.”

  “They’re a necessary evil for this kind of event. Though how anyone can be interested in what the governor is wearing and who I arrive with is beyond me. But they are.”

  “Will I be all over the papers? I didn’t want that.”

  “You’ll be in the paper, I’m sure. Probably about as much as Cody has been whenever she’s with me. I’ll try to keep you out of it as much as possible. And is it really that big of a deal? You’re going out with a friend to a political function. That’s all it is. Are you embarrassed?” He ran a hand down her back, his fingers ghosting over the skin left bare. “You shouldn’t be. You look absolutely stunning. And a bit mysterious. They’ll all be wondering who you are, and the men will all be thinking what a lucky bastard I am to have you.”

  “You’re full of shit, Luc.” She said it sweetly, but she smiled as she said it. “What do you want me to do tonight?”

  “I’ll be mingling with the crowd, gathering the pledges. Making a game out of wheedling them into doing what I want; doing the pretty, etcetera, etcetera. You, as my date, will also be making the small talk. Which, before you protest and say you can’t, keep in mind, I don’t really care if you can or not. You’ll help me more, later tonight. But it would be nice if you could give me moral support. I hate charity events. It’s begging, and it disgusts me how little these people who can afford more actually give. And then call themselves generous.”

  He wasn’t joking now, was he? “Luc?”

  He shook his head. “Don’t mind me. I really don’t enjoy these types of things, but they are necessary.”

  “So what is this charity? And I understand you’re the one behind it?”

  “It is for displaced youth, from war-torn countries, from human trafficking, and even domestically. Do you know the statistics for teenagers who are lost each year, just in this state alone?” His eyes had darkened and he’d turned very serious all of the sudden. This night did mean a lot to him, didn’t it?

  “I’m familiar with them, yes.” Two of her friends, Carrie and Paige, were heavily involved with a couple of shelters for runaways and street kids. Payton had helped paint the buildings back in early November. And had volunteered a few times since then. “Too many are lost, aren’t they?”

  “Yes. And you might as well know, baby. It’s not general knowledge, but I lived on the streets for several years before I was taken in by Manual Lucas. I tend to take tonight’s event very seriously.”

  She didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t known that. There was so much to this man that she didn’t know. “I just hope I don’t mess things up for you. You may be a jerk—and I mean that—but it’s an important cause.”

  “Just whenever we are talking to people, be you. Open, honest, sincere. I think you’ll do just fine.”

  An hour later and she realized just how much work a charity event was going to be. He hadn’t stopped since they arrived and the same relentless charm he’d used on her managed to net some pretty substantial donations to his cause.

  Most people said hello to her, but their focus was definitely on him. And he worked to get it that way.

  Some of her irritation at him lessened. Just a bit. She still didn’t want to be here, and she definitely didn’t like how he’d forced her, but he was doing good things, wasn’t he?

  Didn’t some of the ends justify the means?

  Chapter Thirteen

  He was such a beautiful man. No wonder the papers had dubbed him Lucifer. He had a charm that had to be satanic in nature. He even looked like sin. He was darker i
n skin tone, but she didn’t think he was Hispanic. Bi-racial, maybe; but it was hard to tell those things.

  He was built beautifully, like a gymnast or a dancer. He was neither too bulky nor too lean, though he was definitely more muscled than she’d thought at first glance. She knew it had to be from a gym. A man just didn’t look that good naturally very often. She’d made a point of sharing a dance with him a few minutes earlier.

  Of course, he probably looked worse without the clothes. Most men did; and she’d certainly had seen more than her fair share of naked ones. Mostly ugly naked ones to be exact.

  She had a hard time looking at the men in this room objectively. In her early days as an adult, she’d made a point to study the different body types of her clientele. For fun, and to somehow distract herself from how she was supporting herself and her son. Most men ran to flab around the middle by the age of thirty. Especially the ones who were married. All the home cooking, apparently.

  The men in this room were no real exception, although most had the money to pay for private trainers to help them at least keep up the pretense of caring about their bodies and private chefs for the cooking. She knew how clothes could fix some girth issues.

  She’d always prided herself on keeping her own shape as sexy and feminine as possible.

  Her body had put food in her child’s mouth for that first year or so. Until she’d married a somewhat wealthy man. And she’d grown that wealth to what it was today.

  Enough to buy her family’s way into the top of St. Louis society.

  There were several handsome men—of all ages—woven throughout the crowd. But Davis Lucas definitely stood out. Men like him always would.

  She’d have to handle him delicately to keep attention from coming her way. They were both in the public eye, and she’d have nothing tarnish her charitable works’ reputations. Nothing.

  But that devil would be keeping his fingers out of her business from now on—she’d see to that.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Someone asked her to dance, and she looked at Luc. Not for permission. Not really; but for support. She didn’t want to dance with the man, but she agreed anyway.

  The last man she’d danced with had been at Al’s Thanksgiving party. That man had turned out to be a serial killer. Payton wasn’t exactly keen on dancing lately. After the first dance, three more men asked her before she could find Luc.

  She stepped off the dance floor, finally, intending to go back to the table where they’d first settled. And find her date. Like him or not, he was still the only person in this room that she knew.

  She didn’t make it. Someone grabbed her arm and pulled her against a tuxedoed chest. She knew at the first touch who it was.

  “Enjoying the dancing?”

  “Not really.” She looked up at him. He was so tall and his shoulders looked so broad. Tuxedoes were designed to be worn by men like him. “Are you getting tons of pledges?”

  “Yes. Doing quite well. I noticed you were getting lots of attention. I’ll admit, I’m jealous. You’re mine, yet all these other men keep touching you. I think you’ve made a few conquests.”

  Heat hit her cheeks. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not yours. They’re just wondering who your date is. I doubt they even remember my name right now.”

  “I wouldn’t underestimate your appeal. That dress is absolutely stunning, but doesn’t hold a candle to the woman in it.”

  “I don’t have any money, Luc, so can the charm. Keep it for the people who could really help your cause.”

  He pulled her closer, and she tried to ignore the feel of his chest against hers, of his hands hot on the skin of her back. He trailed fingers up her spine, then tangled them in her hair. He pulled, and she tilted her head back instinctively. “I think we can leave whenever you want. Go back to my place and I’ll demonstrate every little thought that the men looking at you are having. Maybe then you’ll believe. If not, we’ll have a damned good time trying.”

  Payton couldn’t help it; she laughed. He looked down at her for a long moment. They kept swaying to the music, then he shocked her by lowering his head and kissing her. When he pulled away, she stared up at him. “You’re crazy. Everyone is looking at us, now.”

  “Hardly. We’re old news. It works that way, fifteen minutes of staring, then they’re back to their own little worlds.” He brushed a hand over her hair again. He liked touching her hair, didn’t he? He’d done that the night in the bunker, too. “We have the rubber chicken portion of our evening, then I’ll make my nicey-nicey speech. Then you and I can head back to my place, slip into the proverbial ‘something more comfortable’, and get busy.”

  She smacked him. “We’re not getting busy.”

  “Not like that, Dr. Asher. My, you do have a dirty mind, don’t you?” He leaned his forehead against hers. The intimacy of the dance had her stomach practically trembling and her knees like water. “I meant, get busy going over donation cards. You have a long night of work ahead of you. Not pleasure.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  A smart woman knew that sometimes retreat was the best choice. She was no exception. Her son could handle the face-to-face work that went into these charity events—even if it wasn’t her charity tonight—for a few moments. She needed a break.

  Even if it was just the restroom.

  Davis Lucas’ date entered a few steps ahead of her and she took a moment to study the girl who’d come with the billionaire. She wasn’t an exceptionally remarkable woman—she was pale and a bit washed out. She had a nice—if somewhat thin—figure, her skin was clear and her hair was nice. She wasn’t plain, exactly, but she didn’t wow.

  Still, if she was up for auction this girl would go for a hefty price. She couldn’t be much past twenty-five and she was blonde and blue-eyed. There were men out there who would pay a pretty penny for a toy like this.

  Had Davis? What did she have on the man? The girl wasn’t one she recognized; at least not from the circles Davis would travel in. And they were the same circles she’d traveled in for decades. First she’d dealt with Manny Lucas over her company’s practices in foreign countries, now she had to deal with Manny’s foundling.

  Maybe the girl was a paid escort?

  She didn’t think so. The girl’s expression was too innocent, a bit shy and a bit more nervous than she’d expected.

  She forced herself to smile at the younger woman. “The worst part of these types of shindigs are the men, aren’t they?”

  The girl looked at her and smiled politely. She had a pretty smile, healthy teeth. Probably the results of a few years’ worth of orthodontics. Yes, this girl had been well taken care of. Worth a decent penny. “It can be a bit overwhelming.”

  She introduced herself quickly. “You’re here with Lucas, aren’t you?”

  “Yes…” The girl was shy, wasn’t she? How sweet, how quaint.

  “Have you been together long? There are quite a few here tonight who envy you.”

  The girl blushed. “We’re just getting to know each other. We have a few mutual friends.”

  “Are you enjoying yourself? I assume this isn’t your usual type of event?” Catty, and she knew it. But she had a bone to pick with Davis Lucas and his interference into her profits. And this girl was handy.

  “No, that it definitely isn’t.” The girl’s smile hardened. So she had a bit of backbone, did she? Interesting. “My usual event involves a backyard barbeque and close friends and loved ones. But this is for Luc, so here I am. He’s doing great things with his company. I want to support him as much as I can.”

  The girl finished washing her hands, smiled almost guilelessly at her then left the restroom. She found the younger woman interesting; perhaps there was more to her than just a pretty face.

  Interesting. “Great things, indeed.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  She changed out of the dress she’d worn and carefully placed it back in the garment bag. Tonight she had to deal with him. And she needed to be co
mfortable for that. She stalled as long as she could, but eventually she would have to face him.

  She couldn’t put it off too much longer. Ren was at her heels when she walked down the hall. The contractors he’d hired to repair his home were working fast. The drywall near the entry had already been hung.

  Had it only been a few days since his home had exploded around them? And she’d kept up with the gossip about the fire. The papers had even speculated that Luc was behind it.

  She knew he wasn’t.

  He wasn’t exactly the most innocent man in the world, but she didn’t believe he’d bombed his own house. Even though he hadn’t seemed all that attached to it. If she’d had a house like his, she’d have been far more upset to lose it than he’d appeared.

  She joined him in his front living room. The remains of his piano had been hauled away. It had been destroyed by flying debris and glass. The piano had been a truly beautiful instrument, and he had to play it, didn’t he? Why else would he have it?

  She took a long look at the repairs. He’d made a few changes, apparently. The wall of glass that had been his entryway was gone. He’d placed more shipping containers in that location. For security? Probably.

  All of the outer walls of the place were shipping containers. There weren’t any windows now, other than the small ones that lined the shipping container walls, and the skylights above them. She shivered. It really was a fortress. Did he live that way always? She couldn’t imagine it.

  At least he’d painted the shipping containers a nice cream color. And he’d kept the plan open. And she could see several stars when she looked up. If she could look past the fact that it was a fortress she could definitely see how it could be a beautiful place to live. But it was lacking in any warmth, wasn’t it? Didn’t he realize that?