Sins of My Father (Black Brothers #1)

by Lisa Cardiff

  “You’re right. I love you.”

  “Right back at you,” she said, brushing invisible crumbs from her lap. Winnie wasn’t the touchy-feely sort, but I meant it. I did love her. She’d been my best friend since the first day I started middle school in D.C. My mom had yanked me out of my school in L.A. a week after my dad died of a drug overdose and moved us across the country. She grew up in Potomac, Maryland, so my mom figured I should too. According to her, there was no reason to stay in L.A. after my dad died.

  Going from L.A. to Maryland at the age of ten, I had experienced an immediate and heavy dose of culture shock. I don’t think I would have remained sane through all the changes in my life without Winnie as a best friend. I was permanently indebted to her for befriending me and so many other things she’d done for me over the years.

  “Do you want to go out for drinks after work on Friday?” she asked as she opened my office door.

  “Sure. Text me the place and the time.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Archer

  “Do you have plans tonight?”

  Deafening silence hummed through the phone. If I concentrated hard enough, I could hear the sound of the wireless radio waves rippling through my phone. Five, almost six, days had passed since I made contact with Langley. At least ten times during the week I picked up my phone after mentally composing a text or scripting the beginning of a phone conversation, but I never pulled the trigger, which was a bad move judging by Langley’s lack of an immediate response.

  “It’s Friday night,” she finally answered, as though those simple words said everything, and they did, or at least for most of the single population.

  “I know what day it is.”

  “And that means I have plans.”

  “What kind of plans?” I planted my feet on top of the smooth walnut surface of my desk. It had been a shitty week. Meeting after meeting with new and existing clients kept me from doing anything except work, which was great for the future of Black Investments, but not so great for developing a relationship with Langley, and I needed to get her on my side, at least temporarily.

  “I’m going out for drinks.”

  “Can I join you? We can go to dinner after.”

  Papers rustled in the background. “I don’t know. Maybe some other time would be better.”

  Nope. This wouldn’t work. I fucked up this week, but I didn’t have time to be shoved off for another week due to my utter stupidity. Everything had to be perfectly timed for my plan to succeed. “Look, Langley. I’m sorry I didn’t call or text earlier. I never intended to blow you off for five days.”

  “Then why did you? On Sunday, you said you wanted to meet for lunch this week. Well, this week is pretty much over.”

  Squeezing my phone harder than necessary, I blew out an exaggerated breath. “Work. It’s been a strange week. I had appointments with new clients every day and I couldn’t—”

  “So many appointments that you couldn’t spare twenty seconds to send a one sentence text?” She scoffed. “Oh please. I’m not eighteen. I can read between the lines. You’re not that interested.”

  “No, you’re wrong. I’m definitely interested. I made a mistake. It won’t happen again.”

  “You’re right. It won’t, because I’m not big on second chances anymore. They’re a waste of energy at the beginning of a relationship. If it starts bad, it ends bad. No need to experience all the torture in the middle.”

  “Is that your motto?” I slid my feet from the desk and stood up.

  “No, but it’s a good one. I think I’ll adopt it and put it into action starting with you.”

  “Langley, I’m sorry.”

  “Look, I’m running late. Maybe we can talk in…oh….” She paused as though she were evaluating her calendar. “Five more days. I’ll call you if I’m not too busy at work. How’s that sound?”

  Fuck. Total miscalculation on my part. Shocked by how much I enjoyed our date, I wanted to put some space between us. It was fine if she fell for me, but I didn’t have that luxury. “Wait. Don’t hang up.”

  “I’m busy. You didn’t have time to talk this week, and I don’t have time to talk right now.”

  “Give me five minutes.”

  “Why? You couldn’t give me twenty seconds all week.”

  “Tell me where you’re going. I’ll meet you there. I’ll make it up to you.”

  “Sorry. I don’t have time. People are waiting for me, and I don’t like to make people wait unnecessarily.”

  “Just give me the name of the bar.”

  “No.”

  “How about the address or latitude and longitude?”

  “No. Not happening. I’m meeting someone. I don’t want you there.”

  “A date?”

  “Yes.”

  “Like with another guy?” I picked up my jacket and tossed it over my arm. Langley hadn’t dated anyone since Brandon, so it didn’t seem likely, but what did I know?

  “No.”

  “Okay, then give me a clue, and if I’m able to decipher it, you’ll give me a second chance. If not, then this ends here and now. I won’t bug you again. You can embrace your new motto and move on to the next guy.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Dead serious,” I responded without even second-guessing it. I’d use every last resource in my arsenal to track her down. I didn’t have an alternative. Sure, I could have copious amounts of peonies delivered to her house all weekend, but I needed to see her in order to move things forward.

  “Hm. I don’t know. Let me think about this.”

  “You won’t regret it. I promise.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “If I track you down, I’ll buy your drinks and your dinner.”

  “That’s a given. I need a better incentive.”

  And there it was. I heard the smile in her voice loud and clear. She was going to cave. I pumped my fist in the air. Adolescent, I know, but I’d been waiting my whole life to get revenge. “I’ll buy drinks and dinner for you and your friends.”

  “No matter how many. You’re not going to limit the number of friends, right?”

  Fuck. I didn’t care. I’d buy dinner for thirty people, no, a hundred. “Within reason.”

  “Fine. I’ll give you a clue, but if you fail to show up, don’t bother calling me again.”

  “Agreed, I’ll delete your phone number, except I have to insist on an Act of God clause.”

  “An act of God—what in the hell are you talking about?”

  I chuckled. “You know, the clause in every contract that excuses performance for things or events outside the control of either party.”

  “Like what?”

  I pressed the button to call the elevator. I needed as much time as possible to figure out her clue. “You know…earthquake, hurricane, tornado, terrorist attack.”

  “Got it. I think we’re safe on that front.”

  “You never know.”

  “Okay, then barring an act of God, you have until nine to find me. Good luck.”

  The elevator opened, and I stepped inside. I prayed my phone had a strong signal, and it didn’t drop the call before I got the clue. “Wait. I need the clue.”

  She chuckled. “Get with the game. I already gave it to you. See you at nine.”

  “What?”

  “That’s right. Figure it out.”

  The line went dead, whether from the elevator or Langley disconnecting the call, I didn’t know. Shit. I had less than four hours and counting to find her. I should’ve taped our conversation so I could replay every word. Now I only had my memory to rely on, and I’d been preoccupied trying to get the hell out of the office and start my search.

  I replayed the highlights of our conversation and cross-referenced it with bars in the city.

  Mottos.

  Second Chances.

  Dinner.

  Friends.

  Acts of God.

  Nine.

  I chuckled as I opene
d the passenger door of my car service. Well played, Langley.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Langley

  “You know I really hate this place. Why’d you change our plans at the last second?” Winnie asked as we elbowed our way through the wall of people to get a drink. Finding a table or a chair would be unlikely.

  “Long story,” I said, groaning as someone’s drink splashed on my arm.

  “If you’re going to subject me to this scene when we planned to have a drink at the restaurant bar before we ate dinner, you need to offer an explanation.” She glared at me over her shoulder. “I’m starving by the way, and there is no way in hell I’m going to touch the toxic pretzel, nut combination.” She visibly shivered.

  “Fine.” We managed to snag two stools at the bar. I draped my purse over my lap. “We’re meeting Archer here.”

  Her eyebrows scaled her forehead. “And he picked this bar.”

  “No. I picked it.”

  “Seriously?”

  “He called me as I was leaving the office. He wanted to meet.”

  “So, you immediately decided that because I hate The Nine Bar, he should meet us here.”

  “Not exactly. I told him I had plans, and I’d call him in five days or not.” Actually, at the time, part of me wanted nothing more than to meet him for a drink and dinner. But the other part of me—the part that didn’t have any problem ignoring his velvety, smooth voice and the memory of his lips against mine—pleaded with me to avoid leaping into a romantic entanglement with Archer. My relationship with Brandon took a sickening turn after six months of envisioning a future with him, and no matter how nebulous, I didn’t like Archer’s connection to my stepdad.

  “Oh.” Winnie slapped me on the arm. “That’s good.”

  I smiled. “I thought so, but he wouldn’t let it go, and before I knew it, I had promised him a hint of where we planned to go. If he found us, I’d give him a second chance. If not, then he promised to delete my number.” With my index finger, I spun the rectangular coaster on the counter in circles until the beer label resembled a cardboard kaleidoscope. “The Nine Bar was the first thing that popped into my head.”

  “So here we are.”

  “Yep, that’s about it.”

  “You know what I think?” she asked, her light blue eyes twinkling.

  I rolled my eyes. “Do I want to know?”

  “Whatever.” She waved her hand in front of her. “If he likes this lame ass bar, you should dump him on the spot. Don’t even offer an explanation. I mean, look at the guys that frequent this place.”

  Casually, I glanced to the side, down the length of the bar. Slicked back hair, jeans tighter than my tightest pair, thighs smaller than mine, and skintight shirts were just a few glaring things that had my gag reflex on high alert. Call me a throwback to fifties, but I liked real men—muscles and testosterone included—not men that shared my jean size and cried at chick flicks. “I see what you mean.”

  “White wine?” she asked when the bartender paused in front of us, his hands on his hips.

  “No. I need something stronger. Grey Goose on the rocks with a twist of lime.”

  “Make it two,” Winnie said, and then she swiveled on her stool to face me. “So are you nervous to see Archer?”

  I rubbed my hands up and down my thighs. “A little. I had written him off and then he called. I don’t know what to expect.”

  “Don’t expect anything. It’s better for the ego.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” I said as I lifted the lowball glass to my lips.

  Not two minutes later, two warm hands landed on my shoulders.

  “I didn’t know if you really meant for me to meet you at nine at The Nine Bar. If so, I’m a couple hours early.”

  “Archer,” I said, glancing at him over my shoulder. Like the night I met him, his six foot two body was dressed in a dark, custom fit suit that emphasized his lean muscled body. My heart ricocheted off the walls of my chest, and my stomach freefell through my adnominal cavity. I willed my body to remain unaffected and calm, but the winged creatures in my stomach refused to be tamed. This man did crazy things to me.

  “Langley,” he responded, his heated dark stare melting me in a pile of mush. He held my eyes for a moment. Electricity ping-ponged in the air around us, buzzing like cicadas in late summer. Kiss me, my stupid, love-struck alter ego silently begged. His lips curved into a half smile, and any lingering reservations about Archer sunk faster than the Titanic.

  Like a moon succumbing to the gravitational pull of a planet, my body tilted toward his. My eyes fluttered. My lips tingled, imagining the moment of impact.

  Closer.

  Closer.

  So close, I saw the gold specks in his irises.

  Then, bam…Winnie cleared her throat. I shook my head, dislodging the Archer-induced fog filling my brain.

  “Winnie, this is Archer,” I said, blood rushing to my face. Thank God the bar was dimly lit.

  “Nice to meet you.” Archer shook her hand.

  “Just one friend?” Archer asked, refocusing his mind-wilting attention on me.

  “I thought I’d go easy on you.” I shrugged. “Besides, I didn’t want to promise an army of friends free drinks and dinner if you didn’t show.”

  “I told you I’d find you.” He squeezed my shoulders and then dropped his hands to his sides.

  “You did, but you also said we’d go to lunch this week.” I should have let the topic die a fiery death. After all, he found me, and I owed him a second chance. Hell, I wanted to give him a second chance. How could I refuse him when my body lit up like I had fireflies in my veins anytime I got within five feet of him or his silky voice?

  He leaned forward and brushed my hair to the side. “The last time I looked at a calendar, a week consisted of seven days.”

  “Yeah. So?” I tensed my muscles to stave off the shiver that rolled through my body as his warm breath wafted over the microscopic hairs on my neck. It didn’t work. Evidently, controlling involuntary body reactions was impossible.

  “So, will you join me for lunch tomorrow?” he whispered.

  With his lips a pesky inch from my ear, I nodded like a star struck groupie drinking in his mesmeric essence. Eyes wide. Mouth parted. Cheeks flushed. Pathetic.

  “Good. So do you want to stay for another drink or go to dinner?” Archer asked. He propped his foot on the bottom rung of my barstool and the fabric of his pants brushed against my bare leg.

  “Is something wrong with this place?” Winnie asked, smiling over the rim of her glass. I barely restrained the urge to roll my eyes. Here went her test.

  His eyes darted toward Winnie. Then, he focused all his chocolaty, smoldering heat back on me. “It’s not really my type of place, but if Langley wants to stay, I don’t mind. Whatever Langley wants…” His voice trailed off, a suggestive smirk on his face. His lips were made for sweaty nights and sin.

  “Thank God. Let’s get out of this place.” Winnie hopped out of her chair so fast, you’d think she’d won the lottery.

  Archer chuckled. “Tell me how you really feel.”

  “Nine isn’t our usual stomping ground,” I said.

  “I need to make reservations for dinner. Meet me outside in ten minutes.” He handed me a fifty-dollar bill. “Will this cover it?”

  I eyed the money. “You don’t have to pay for our drinks.”

  Winnie snagged the money out of his hand. “If he’s offering, who am I to reject his generosity?”

  Archer’s lips skimmed across my forehead. “See you in a couple minutes.” I watched the back of his head. Even after he disappeared from my line of sight, I could pinpoint his location from the women’s heads boomeranging in his direction.

  “I’m taking off. You guys can go to dinner without me.”

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, searching Winnie’s eyes.

  She smiled and leaned forward, so her mouth was inches from my ear. “I’m in the way. Archer likes you. I mea
n really likes you.”

  My heart tripped over itself. “How can you tell?”

  “He ran all over town looking for you. He graciously agreed to hang out with you and your friend without complaint.”

  “I’m not sure. I thought Brandon liked me.”

  “No, Brandon liked the idea of you and what you could mean for his career.”

  “Maybe Archer feels the same way.”

  “Not even close. Have you seen the way he looks at you?” She fanned her face. “Within seconds of arriving, he had mentally undressed you at least twice.

  I nearly choked on my drink. “Shut up.”

  “I’m jealous. It was like watching porn, but live.”

  “Did you really say that?”

  “I did.” She kissed me on the cheek as she squeezed my hand. “Have fun and fuck your stepdad.”

  I cringed. “Don’t say that. I think my vodka just reversed course.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Not literally, but who cares what he thinks? He liked Brandon.”

  “So?”

  “Brandon is like the head of the douche cavalry.”

  “The douche cavalry? Are you serious?”

  She shrugged. “Hey, it sounded good in my head. Let’s go find Archer and a taxi for me.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” I leaned into her. “I don’t mind. This was supposed to be a girls’ night out.”

  She scrunched up her face. “Ah, yeah. I’m not lonely enough to spend a Friday night as the third wheel on your date with Mr. Dark, Sexy, and Filthy Rich.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Archer

  “If you have a driver, why’d you take a taxi the night we met? Was it his night off or something?” Langley asked as she hopped into the backseat of the black town car. Her slim black skirt slid up her impressively toned legs.

  I could’ve answered her question with a simple confirmation, or I could tell her the truth. I went with the truth. “I sent him home. I wanted to share a taxi with you.”

  Her eyes locked on mine, assessing, contemplating. I loosened my tie and pulled it over my head, dropping it on my briefcase. In the rush to find Langley, I hadn’t bothered to stop home and change my clothes. When the silence lengthened, I braced for an inevitable sassy comment.