Worth It All (All #3)

by Marie Wathen

  Pulling up to the recently bulldozed acreage, I spot the dark blue Ford pickup truck that I was hoping to find, and whisper a prayer for the right words. Oh, and that I’ll have the time to explain everything before I get my ass beat to a pulp.

  “What in the motherfucking hell?” Jack growls low in his throat, rushing toward me, climbing out of my car. Shutting the door, I walk around to the trunk and wait for the ass whooping. “Goddamn nerve,” he snarls right into my face. I nod a greeting and brace for his lethal punch. Not disappointing, he grabs the front of my shirt and glares into my eyes, bloodlust visibly owning him at the moment. “Why are you here?”

  “Waverly.”

  “Don’t you ever fucking say her name again! You lost that right when you tossed my sister away like trash.” He shoves me against the car. “You fucking piece of shit!”

  “I want her back just as much as you do.”

  Again, he shoves me, roughly this time, so that I crash against the back of my sports car while he bellows, “Fuck off, Walker.”

  “Your only chance at getting her back is standing in front of you, Jack,” I state matter-of-factly, refusing to take my eyes off of his. “Are you prepared to throw away your one shot at saving your sister’s life?” He glares, seething like a wild bull and sizing me up. I have no doubts that the big bastard could kick my ass easily, but I just don’t give a rat’s ass. “I’m not risking it! So fucking get it out of your system. Hit me and then let’s find Waverly.” His fist connects with my right cheek and once again I bounce off the trunk before falling onto my knees, pain ripping through my face and legs.

  “I warned you, and I don’t need your damn permission, you little son of a bitch.” He spits on the ground, thrusting a hand through his hair so roughly, he’s probably ripping it from his scalp. “Get the fuck up.” He stomps away, leaving me believing that I’ve lost my only ally. After a few feet, he spins around, charging toward me again. I press the palm of my hand to my throbbing cheek and wait for the second attack. Grabbing my shirt at the collar, he pulls me up and draws his fist back. “Fuck!” he thunders.

  Face-to-face with the pissed-off brother of the woman that I’m in love with, our eyes stab into each other for different reasons. He really wants to whip my ass, or probably worse, and I really need him to get it over with so we can move forward.

  “I can get her back,” I declare confidently. His hand falls from my shirt. He steps backward, his muscles tense and face screwed-up with intense pain. He shakes his head, like he doesn’t have the faith in my words, turns and walks away from me wordlessly. Fuck! “I fucking need you! Help me!” Ignoring my plea, he continues walking away. After watching him climb into the cab of his truck and peel out of the gravel driveway, I crawl back inside my car and sit silently, debating my next step. As much as I hate it, going to Granddad’s is on my checklist. I don’t feel like facing my father again, but I need to talk with Sam. One way or another, I’m getting all the details, or I will go fucking rogue. I will do whatever it takes to get Waverly home safely.

  My phone rings through the speaker system in my car, breaking the silence. “Hello?”

  “Fucking idiot!” Ian barks and then laughs loudly. With a rapidly growing headache, I quickly lower the volume.

  Rolling my eyes, I grumble, “What do you want, Ian?”

  “Jack called, said you’re bragging about getting Wav back. He’s convinced you’re full of shit, and I would normally agree with him, but…” All the humor leaves his voice. “I’m fucking desperate and you’re the only real spark of hope that we’ve had since she was…taken,” he whispers the last word, like the reality of his baby sister being snatched in a public parking garage is something mystical – or imaginary, like a yeti. But it did happen and no matter what it takes, I will be the one to find her. The Collins family needs to pull their fat heads out of their stubborn asses, and accept my assistance so we can find her now. “What’s your plan, Walker?” Ian isn’t the one I need helping me with in this particular rescue. However, if I can get him on board, and at the very least, agree to my proposal, Jack might mull it over. That’s really all I’m asking, for now. I’m convinced that when he hears what Tac and I know, he’ll be ready to lead this kamikaze rogue unit.

  “Can you meet?”

  “Nine o’clock, tomorrow night, meet me at Tackle Q’s. I’ll bring Jack. And Morgan…” He pauses. “You’ll have one chance with him. Don’t blow it.” He disconnects, and the tension I was feeling after Jack’s departure wanes slightly, seeing a light at the end of my dark tunnel.

  Pulling up at Walker mansion, I rub my hand across the back of my neck, absorbing all the shit that has gone down here recently. Vividly, I remember what happened between my father and me the last time that I crossed the threshold. After his cold-hearted dismissal, I crashed and burned, but now, part of me feels like a better man, being cut loose from his oppressive shit. Truthfully, I doubt that I would have ever pleased him anyway. No one ever has.

  “Well, you gonna sit out here all day or what?” I jump straight out of my skin hearing Granddad’s booming voice. With his face pressing against my front windshield, he chuckles about catching me off guard. How did I not see him creep up on me? The old man is stealth.

  “You freaked my shit out, Pops,” I bitch. His smirk turns into a beaming grin as I push out of the car. “Up for a chat?” I ask, following him through the house toward the kitchen.

  “Hell, yeah,” he hoots, reaching into the fridge and grabbing two cold drinks before walking out to the back patio. “Barret is out of town again.” Accepting the beer he offers, I nod in response and tip the bottle back. “So what’s on your mind, Morgan?”

  “Are you pissed at me, too?” I get straight to the point, referring to my flight reaction after Tristan’s graduation party two months ago. Remembering how pissed my parents were with my dismissal of responsibility, I wait for his reaction. Since this is our first time alone together to discuss it, I don’t really know what he’ll say.

  “When you left, I wasn’t shocked,” he admits, looking directly at me. “I won’t say I wasn’t disappointed, because I was. But that’s unfair for me to tell you something so cruel.” He narrows his eyes on me. “Especially after what your father said to ya.”

  “He told you?”

  “Naw,” he denies, shaking his head roughly to emphasize his response. “It was Tristan who overheard your father.”

  “Shit,” I grumble, covering my hand over my mouth. It sickens me to know that my cousin was a spectator to the lowest point of my life. My father stripped me raw and then left me in a pathetic mess on the floor. Breesan witnessed it because she happened to be with me at the time, but she handled it in a more delicate way than I think Tristan would.

  “Stop, Morgan,” he advises. “The boy told me because he was worried about you.” He sits down in a lounge chair, bending his leg to cross an ankle over his knee. Thankfully he doesn’t delve into it any further. “Tristan and I talked about his father’s plans for him at WC.” Looking poignantly at me, he shakes his head. “It ain’t for him, especially with him being all weird and shit at the moment.” He turns up his beer and twitches an eyebrow skyward. I can’t help laughing and he grins proudly catching me off guard twice in ten minutes.

  “Granddad, I don’t know if there’s a place there for me anymore,” I confess, shaking my head and looking past him, toward the ocean.

  He bobs his head, takes another slow drag from his bottle and then his eyes drift toward the rolling waves, too. “You know there are two things I’m certain about in this world.” I look directly at him when he doesn’t offer the wisdom automatically. “The love of a good woman outranks all the money and fancy things in this world, and you should always fight for what your heart values. And, character precedes the man. What I mean when I say that is your sense of right and wrong guides you. I believe that yours has finally found the proper path.” Turning my way, he winks. “If you hadn’t lost your shit sooner or
later, I would have pulled your ass from the company myself. It’s what I should have done with your father and uncle when they were cocky little shits, too. It’s too late for them, but you…” Beer bottle in hand, he points an index finger at me and smiles proudly. “You have shit-loads more moral fiber than both my idiot sons combined. You will lead Walker Corporation one day, just not any day soon.” He nods and then turns his gaze back toward the horizon.

  “You’re really not pissed?” I ask, completely stupefied.

  “Hell, no! I’m impressed.” He laughs and I’m more confused than ever before. Sometimes Granddad worries me. Is this smart? Entrusting his company with someone like me can’t be good business sense. “Listen, boy, I told you years ago that Walker Corporation is your baby and I meant those words. I still do. She’ll wait for you, Morgan. Those two idiots will not destroy her before you take the reins. Take your leave and when you’re ready, come back.”

  In disbelief of his blind faith in me, I shake my head while countering with, “Granddad, I think that you give me too much credit sometimes. I’m certain that my character flaws are anything but moral. I damn sure don’t understand how you could be so certain.”

  He smirks knowingly, giving away nothing and then changes the subject. “Oh, there was a sweet, young gal that stopped by a couple of days ago, looking for you. She left this.” He stands and hands me a card before adding, “Sure was a purdy thing, too.” His smirk turns into a devilish grin before he turns away, leaving me sitting alone.

  I’m completely blown away. If anything, he should be angry with me, not happy about my recent runaway stint, but Granddad is always surprising me. My cell phone beeps, drawing me out of my shock.

  “Hello?”

  “Morgan,” Tristan says cheerily.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I’ve been given a stay.” He pauses and then lowering his voice, he begs, “Get your ass over here and pick me up. I need to get out tonight.”

  “Are you crazy?” I chuckle.

  “Hell, no!”

  “Tristan, you were recently shot, right?” I ask exasperatedly, rubbing my hand down my face roughly. Does he really think I’ll take him out?

  “Morgan,” he growls. “I nearly fucking died. I’m young and have been given a second chance at life. I’m not letting it pass me by waiting around in this prison they call a mansion.” He sighs and then insists, “You’re breaking me out of Fort Walker tonight.”

  “Fucking crazy little shit,” I huff, stifling another laugh. “I’m already here, but I’m not taking you out.” He huffs and I suggest, “Next week?”

  “Sweet,” he cheers.

  “Seriously, what the hell, Tristan?” I hear Sam shouting in the background. “Get your ass back into that bed. So help me, if you don’t chill the hell out, I am going to break both of your legs. In several places. They won’t be clean breaks either. You’ll need surgeries, several of them, to repair the all damage I will do if you push me.” Tristan sighs loudly. “And there is no bloody way in hell that you are going out with Morgan.”

  “Dammit! Your sister is a real stubborn pain in the ass.”

  “A pain? You got that right and you’ll be smart not to forget it,” she threatens further.

  Lowering his voice, he tells me, “I’ll be ready to raise hell next weekend, Morgy.”

  He hangs up without another word, leaving me staring down at my phone and laughing at the balls he must have if he is hoping he’ll get away with defying my ballsy sister. Good thing, she is his problem and not mine, and vice versa. Now, I need to get up there and speak with my sweet sister. I am done with being left out of the loop, and walking blindly through this crapfest.

  After sliding my cell phone back into my front jean pocket, I open the small memo card Granddad gave me earlier. Pulling out the Hotel Willow-embossed paper, I stare at the note for what feels like hours, completely in shock and disturbed by the truth behind the seemingly innocent words.

  Morgan, after you disappeared, those guys tracked me down at my house in Georgia. I’m completely freaked out. Once I see for myself that you’re okay, you will never see me again. I promise. Room #238. ~Candy

  Absolutely nothing could shock me more than my little Vegas fling tracking me down at my family home. How she could have found me so quickly has me on edge more than all the other bullshit since our brief and reckless encounter. Rereading her words numerous times and remembering the severity of our situation when I split, clashes with Granddad’s high opinion of me. Abandoning Candy while some fuckers were hunting her down to do who knows what–and then having her show up here just to make sure that I’m okay–suddenly makes me look like a complete douche-bag, and makes me feel guilty as hell. Walking away, or rather running, from the responsibility of protecting a woman in danger sure as hell wouldn’t impress Granddad if he knew. Why would he, or anyone, waste their time on a piece of shit like me? I’m simply not worth it.

  Chapter Seven

  Anna

  Standing in the middle of the parking garage at Willow General Hospital after leaving Tristan in ICU, I’m doing my best to talk Waverly down from her Morgan-induced redneck meltdown. The girl is completely bonkers over the big dummy. As much as I love Tristan and as freaked out as I have been all night since his shooting, I’m glad for the brief distraction from my own heartache.

  “Hey, I think those guys are coming over here,” Breesan whispers nervously.

  Her tone definitely stops our debate over whether or not Morgan will ask Elise “The Beeotch” Carrington to marry him. I drop my hand, holding Waverly’s shoulder, and turn around to see who she is talking about. The two guys walking our way don’t look familiar, but approaching, they smile like they know us. Breesan suspiciously eyes both men and seems totally freaked. Waverly smiles like she knows them and, my edginess calms a bit. Crossing my arms over my chest, I see him direct his gaze at me and offer a polite smile. He is hot.

  Waverly asks, “Did y’all come by to see Tristan?”

  The hottie smirks at his buddy. They nod at each other before he answers her. “Yeah, that's why we're here. Are you ladies coming or going?”

  “We were just leaving,” I answer for her. Tilting my head, I ask, “Do I know you?”

  “Not as well as I would like,” the hottie says with blazing gray-tinted eyes and a bastardly smirk.

  Oh, that just irks my tushy. “Seriously?” I snap. “That's my boyfriend upstairs in the hospital bed, so it will never happen for you.” He smirks proudly. What a pig! Rolling my eyes, I turn my attention toward Breesan and see a large, ugly guy reaching up to clasp a hand on top of her shoulder. My mouth drops open and I try to warn her, but the words fail me as my eyes grow huge.

  The man wraps his other arm around her waist, pulling her against his chest. Immediately, she begins kicking and thrashing, trying to get away. Movement to my right draws my attention and I see the guy next to Waverly grab her and wrap a white handkerchief over her face. A split second later, the hottie does the same to me. Breesan screams when she manages a glance at me, struggling against my attacker’s large, dominate frame. His powerful embrace traps me securely and I begin to hyperventilate. Bad timing. The extra breaths I take forces me to draw in more of the chemicals laced in the cloth. I become lightheaded instantly.

  The man holding Breesan growls, “Keep struggling. I like it when you fight.” Breesan freezes, my eyes flutter weakly before shutting, and the last thing I remember hearing is the menacing growl from the man forcing himself on her. “I told you I'd have you again before they killed you, sweetness. I always get what I want.”

  Oh, God, he’s going to rape her!

  “Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh!”

  Panting wildly, I lurch upward into a sitting position and blink rapidly. I slap both hands over my mouth, sucking in several deep breaths through my nose before I realize I’m not being abducted from the hospital garage. Unfortunately, that was a memory dream of what happened too many weeks ago to cou
nt, and I don’t know what happen after I blacked out. Tears pool in my eyes, and I flick them away with my grimy fingertips. I’m so tired of the nightmare, and I’m sick of crying from remembering all of these horrible events. So many bad things are flooding my mind continually. My fight with Tristan before the shooting, the year without Breesan and Miller trying to move into her place as my best friend, and so many nights of him doing horrible things to me are just the tip of the iceberg threatening to unstitch my carefully-crafted sanity.

  “Anna,” Waverly moans faintly. I sit still, wiping the tears away quietly while calming my nerves before twisting my neck to glance over at her.

  “Hey,” I sniff before pulling my hair over one shoulder and turning toward her. “I’m right here, Waverly.”

  “Are you okay?” she asks through a loud obnoxious yawn. I sigh. Usually when she does that it means she’ll be going back to sleep soon.

  “Yes.” Standing up, I grab the bag of food and bring it over to her. “Water,” I shove a bottle toward her and reach into the bag with my other hand to dig out some fruit and nuts. “Bananas and almonds.” She glares, but takes the bottle. “Your muscles were too weak last time, so the potassium will help.” I smile, peeling down the skin before handing it to her. She sits up, dusts her hands on her legs and then takes the banana. I pop open the bag of almonds and place it on the floor in front of her.

  “Thank you,” she mumbles with a mouthful of food. “How long this time?” Sitting down, I shrug and dig into the other bag of clothes, pulling out a pair of sweats for her. She’s been out for a very long time this time. I’ve slept three times and Tox visited twice since. Both times he didn’t speak and I refused to acknowledge him. He made it clear that he’s the bad guy, and he’s proving it with each visit when he just pretends that this is just some job and we are only just a couple of worthless prisoners.