by Joss Wood
Except that she would think that he was a wuss, that he wasn’t man enough to acknowledge his child. If he walked away and ignored the situation, Vivi would think he was weak and selfish and a bit of a man-child. And she’d be right.
Suck it up, McNeal. She’s had a near-death experience, escaped from a sinking car, got smacked around by river detritus and ended up in a hospital. If she can cope with all that, you can meet a two-year-old.
An ordinary two-year-old, maybe. His daughter? He wasn’t so sure.
Vivi tipped her head to the side. “Getting a bit too real, huh?”
He thought about laughing her statement away—he could be charming when he chose to be—but decided to tell the truth. “Too real. Utterly surreal.”
She twisted her lips and then her hands. “I suppose you want an explanation.”
“Do you not think I deserve one?”
Vivi lifted one shoulder, as if silently admitting that she had her doubts. Dammit, what did she want from him? He dealt in black-and-white; gray was his least favorite color in the world. Cam was about to demand that she start explaining, when he caught her touching the back of her head, trying hard to contain her wince. He skimmed his eyes over the bruises on her arms and stood up, gripping the edge of the sheet.
He looked at Vivi. “I just want to see what we’re dealing with. May I?”
At her nod, he pulled down the sheet. Her gown ended midthigh and she had a scrape on her thigh, a bruised knee and another bruise on her shin. God, she looked like she’d been hit by a tank.
Instead of protesting his examination of her body, Vivi just put her head against the pillow and closed her eyes. “I fell pregnant, but I didn’t know your name—”
She didn’t need to do this now. She shouldn’t have to do this now. Feeling suddenly protective of her, he realized her explanations could wait until she felt stronger. Or when she was, at the very least, pain free.
He bent down and surprised himself by placing his lips on her forehead. This crazy situation would still be there. “Not now, Viv. Let’s get you home.”
Vivi forced her eyes open. “I’d like to be home, clean and be cuddling with Clem.”
Cam nodded. “Lie there and rest and let me see if I can make that happen.”
He wanted to take her home to his place, not hers, a place where he knew he could protect her.
Cam rolled his shoulders, irritated with himself. The worst was over, what more could happen to her? Why was he so reluctant to leave her alone?
* * *
Press Release.
For Immediate Release.
Body Discovered at Texas Cattleman’s Club, Houston Construction Site.
Yesterday, at 7:40 a.m., members of the Houston Police Department and emergency medical responders responded to a report of a male victim found at the west Houston construction site of the Texas Cattleman’s Club, about two miles west of Highway 10. Upon the arrival of first responders, the male was pronounced deceased at the scene.
At this time the identity of the male is unknown. According to the medical examiner, the cause of death is due to a gunshot wounds to the chest. Houston Police Department detectives are investigating with the assistance of the district attorney’s office. Identification of the victim and an accurate time of death are still to come. A case of homicide has been opened and no further information is currently available.
If anyone has information regarding this incident they are asked to contact...
Glass-wall offices meant eyes were on me, so I skimmed over the media release. Nothing in my face or my demeanor reflected my inner turmoil or hinted at my racing heart. I looked at my fingers, pleased to see that they weren’t shaking. I pushed the paper to one side. Reading media releases has been a long-standing habit and one I am grateful for.
Reading the morning papers is another habit I’ve cultivated, and I pulled the pile toward me, and skimmed their pages for more information. Speculation was rampant but there was not much more to be gleaned. It was the same information, padded and puffed, but nothing new and nothing to link me to the murder at the Texas Cattleman’s Club building site.
Thank God.
Determined not to miss anything—the smallest bit of knowledge might be the difference between me meeting a needle while wearing prison orange or not—I skimmed the short article buried on page 3 of a local newspaper and frowned. Taking a breath, I read it again, slower this time.
The victim has not been identified and the time of death is unknown. Like so many other properties in the city, the construction site experienced extensive flooding thanks to the once-in-a-generation storm, making identification of the victim or forensics difficult.
That statement wasn’t accurate. I thought back to that morning, remembering the sharp snap of the pistol firing, the blood on a white shirt, his wide, terrified eyes as I stood over him, his life draining away. For insurance, I stared into his eyes and pulled the trigger again, sending another bullet into his already mutilated chest cavity. Fighting my panic, I acted fast and removed his wallet, his distinctive watch, the bracelets on his thick wrist, anything that might make identifying him easier. Dropping the concrete slab on his face had been added insurance, because the more time I put between his death and his identification, the better. I never imagined that I would get a helping hand from Mother Nature. The recent flood was a blessing in disguise. For me, at least.
I hid my smile and power-read through the rest of the article. Nobody working on the Perry Construction crew is talking; one worker hinted at a company gag order being in place.
At my suggestion, Sterling Perry sent an email to the construction foreman, telling him in no uncertain terms that any worker caught talking to the press would be summarily dismissed, and it pleased me that his orders were being obeyed. Excellent, since I wasn’t in the mood to follow up on the issue, mostly because my interest might raise suspicion and I needed to fly under the radar. Becoming a suspect would be intolerable and jail simply wouldn’t suit me.
After folding the newspaper into a perfect rectangle, I placed it on top of the pile of other precisely folded papers and leaned back in my chair. So far, so good. Nobody suspected me, nobody ever will. Thank God, because I still have a score, or three or four, to settle with Sterling Perry and his family. And with his archenemy Ryder Currin...
In my case, the enemy of my enemy was not my friend...
Three
In the hospital parking lot, Cam opened the passenger door of his SUV and gestured Vivi inside. Vivi inhaled that new-car smell and looked at the expensive seats, the massive dashboard. This was a $300,000 car, and, because she couldn’t leave the hospital in a flimsy gown, her filthy, still-wet sneakers were about to touch the spotless carpet, her mud-streaked jeans were going to make contact with his butter-soft leather seats.
Nope, she couldn’t. She’d take a cab home.
“Problem?” Cam asked, his voice brushing her ear. Vivi felt the heat of his body behind her and saw his big hand grip the car frame above her head, his expensive watch glinting in the sunlight. He’d come a long way in three years. A beat-up truck to this beauty, work boots to $300 cowboy boots, functional denim to designer labels. She’d come a long way, too, and she was proud of herself, but man, Cam had her beat.
It wasn’t a competition, Donner, and Cam didn’t have a child to deal with. You’ve done okay, you know you have.
Clem was safe and happy and lacked for nothing. Sure, it would be nice to have a little more stashed away for a rainy day, to have a place of her own, but it could be worse. She could still be back at her mother’s, going to her church, living a small life in a small community. Count your blessings, dammit. You have everything you need...
“Can I help you up?”
Vivi half turned and lifted her hands. “I can’t get in there, Cam.”
Cam frowned. “And why no
t?”
“This car is brand new. I am filthy. My clothes are still damp and muddy, and I reek of ditchwater.”
Spreading his legs, Cam folded his arms across his chest, and Vivi appreciated the bulge of his biceps straining the band of his T-shirt. He shook his head. “Get in the car, Vivianne.”
“I can’t!”
Muttering a curse, Cam moved quickly. He gripped her waist, lifted her and easily deposited her into the soft leather chair. He placed a hand on her thigh and one on her shoulder and glared at her. “It’s a car. I don’t give a damn whether it gets dirty or not. Carpets can get cleaned, leather seats can get wiped down.” He leaned forward and sniffed; amusement jumped into his eyes. “Though you could do with a shower.”
Vivi blushed. “I know, I’m really sorry.”
Cam’s thumb found the rip on the knee of her jeans and caressed that small patch of bare skin. Vivi watched his eyes darken, and emotion she couldn’t identify flashed in his eyes. “You nearly died, Vivi. I’d rather have you here, dirty and a little smelly, than dead and gone.”
He was so direct, so damn to the point, and Vivi liked it. She liked the way he said what he meant, whether she wanted to hear it or not. Her parents had been so passive-aggressive, so manipulative that she’d spent most of her life trying to decipher what they meant, second-guessing her responses and reactions, never quite sure if she was doing or saying the right thing. She liked direct people; she always knew where she stood with them.
“We done with this conversation?” Cam asked her.
Vivi sighed. “Yeah.”
The corners of his mouth lifted. “’Bout time.”
He slammed the car door shut and Vivi pulled the seat belt down as she watched him walk around the hood of the SUV to the driver’s door. Long strides, messy hair, stubble on his strong jaw. He was such a man, an alpha male in his prime.
Cam pulled open his door, settled into his seat and reached for a pair of expensive sunglasses resting in the console. He half lifted them to his face when he stopped to look at her. He held out the sunglasses to her. “How’s your head? Do you want to use these?”
Vivi was touched by his casual offer. Her head was pounding, and she couldn’t look out of the windshield without feeling like the sun was piercing her eyes with thousand-degree needles. Her fingers brushed Cam’s as she took the glasses from him and she felt another shiver of awareness. God, he was hot. And under that gruff, sweet.
“Thank you.” Vivi placed the too-big sunglasses on her face and sighed with relief. The lenses cut the glare and her headache retreated from excruciating to simply horrible.
Heading toward the exit of the parking lot, Cam sent her a glance. “Where to?”
“Are you sure you don’t mind driving me?” Vivi asked, half turning in her seat so that she could rest her pounding head on the soft seat. “It might be a bit out of your way.”
“The address, Vivi.”
Vivi recited her address and Cam activated the on-board GPS.
At the first red light, Cam turned his head to look at her. “You up to some conversation?”
“About Clem?”
“She’s the most important part of what I want to talk about,” Cam replied, accelerating across the intersection. He shifted, picked up speed and shifted again. He drove like he made love, with complete confidence and self-assurance. Was there anything about this man she didn’t find sexy?
“I’m impatient by nature,” he said, “but if you can’t talk now, I will wait. Reluctantly.”
Vivi pulled her eyes off his hands and sat up, stretching out her legs. She stifled a groan, her muscles screaming, volubly reminding her that she’d been in an accident, that she’d narrowly escaped drowning in a car.
Cam’s hand tightened on the steering wheel. “Now that I know about Clem, what are you expecting from me? Child support is a given. Give me a number and I’ll set up a recurring monthly payment.”
Cam had gone from zero to sixty and she was trailing far, far behind. “But what about proof? Paternity test? Don’t you want some sort of guarantee that she’s yours?”
Cam’s brief look was arrow sharp and laser intense. “Is she mine?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, then. Let’s move on.”
Vivi stared at him, shocked. How could he just take what she was saying at face value? How could he trust her? She didn’t trust anybody, especially when it came to Clem.
“Vivianne, thanks to my past, I’ve got a near infallible BS detector. I can spot a lie from fifty paces. If you want to go through the whole dog and pony show of paternity tests, we can do that, but it’s not necessary. You say she’s mine, I believe you. The end.”
What kind of past gave a person the ability to read people, to spot lies? Vivi really wanted to know. She opened her mouth to ask, saw Cam’s don’t-go-there expression and backed off. Okay, message received.
Going back to his previous statement, she said, “I don’t need anything from you.”
She didn’t. She and Clem were fine. She had a good job—the restaurant would reopen soon, any other option would not be tolerated!—and a great support system, and she was, finally, happy, dammit. She was the master of her destiny, the captain of her ship. She would not allow some rich guy, no matter how sexy and how much she wanted to kiss him, to walk into her life and rearrange it. She’d cried and fought and hustled and worked her butt off to be independent. She would never allow anyone to control her actions again.
Vivi placed her hand on her stomach and hauled in a deep breath. “We don’t need you, Camden.”
She heard his swift intake of breath and her eyes flew up to his. For a moment, for a split second, she suspected that she’d hurt him, that her words were like arrows hitting his soul. Then he turned those cool, mocking eyes on hers and sent her a cold smile. “Well, then, if that was the way you wanted to play it, then you shouldn’t have put my name as your emergency contact.” He gestured to her muddy clothing. “Because, you know, sometimes emergencies happen.”
Crap. He had her there. Folding her arms across her chest, Vivi stared straight ahead, feeling like her head was about to split open. She’d made the choice to list Cam as her emergency contact, to give him custody of Clem in case of an unfortunate event.
What she’d never expected to happen actually had. And that meant dealing with Cam, working her way through this quagmire. As much as she wanted to, she simply couldn’t wish him away. And even if she could, she doubted that she would. He was so compelling, utterly mesmerizing. His charisma hadn’t dimmed, and he was, if possible, even more attractive than he’d been years ago. He was one of those men people paid attention to, possibly because he didn’t give a damn whether you did or not.
He wasn’t an easy man, nor was he comfortable, but, hell, he was interesting.
Cam reached down, flipped open the lid to the console between them and pulled out a bottle of aspirin. He tossed it into her lap and, reaching behind her seat, pulled a bottle of water from a pack on the floor. “Take a couple and then start talking.”
It was one command she was prepared to obey. Five minutes later, after swallowing most of the bottle of water, she felt a little stronger. “What do you want to discuss?”
Cam’s took a moment to reply. “That night...why did you leave?”
Because it was late, and she knew that her mom would be frantic. Because if she wasn’t home by dawn, there was a strong possibility that her mom would call the church prayer line and every male member of the church would scour Tarrin for her. She’d known that she was in for a verbal thrashing for leaving the funeral and will reading, but if her mother found out she’d visited a bar and slept with a stranger... Well, hell, Satan would’ve taken cover.
But nothing compared to the meltdown her mom had descended into when she heard about her pregnancy. Hell, she was certain, was still in
recovery mode.
“I didn’t think that we had much more to say to one another. We drank, we danced, we slept together. We were done.” Hooking up with Cam had been an act of defiance, of rebellion, and she’d never, not for one minute, thought that it could last beyond dawn. That was why they hadn’t bothered with names, why they hadn’t shared anything personal. They had been two people who were attracted to each other, using each other to alleviate their loneliness and have a brief physical connection. Had she read the evening wrong? Had he wanted more? Vivi frowned. “Did you want to see me again?”
Cam’s jaw hardened, and he stared straight ahead. “It ended how it was expected to end.”
Vivi couldn’t help noticing that he didn’t answer her question. She debated what to say next. She certainly wasn’t going to tell him how her mother had reacted when she finally faced the fact that Vivi was pregnant, how she had screamed at Vivi for two days straight before tossing her out of the only home she’d ever known, into a strange and scary world.
Vivi tasted the same panic at the back of her throat and reminded herself that she’d survived, then she’d flourished. She was okay, Clem was okay, life was good.
“I moved away from Tarrin and came to Houston.”
“Why?”
Dammit, she didn’t want to answer that question. She wondered how to respond without telling him too much and decided to keep it simple. “I wasn’t welcome there anymore.” She saw him open his mouth and began to speak again before he could lob another question her way. “I found a place to stay, had a couple of jobs and then I found work at The Rollin’ Smoke.”
“Joe Cabron’s place?” Cam asked.
“Yeah. I started off at the bottom of the ladder and worked my way up.” Vivi heard the note of pride in her voice and didn’t give a damn. She’d badgered Joe to give her more work, more responsibility, a higher wage, and every task he gave her, she’d excelled at. And when she got to food preparation, they’d both realized with equal surprise that she had a natural affinity for flavors and a great cook’s instinct. Together they’d played with recipes and food combinations, and when Joe decided to semi-retire, Vivi had gotten her chance at running his famous kitchen. Her appointment had sent shock waves through Houston’s culinary circles, but she’d proved her worth—taking online courses to improve herself—and was now considered to be one of the best chefs in the city.
