Raincheck (Caldwell Brothers Book 6)

by Colleen Charles

  Then we’re both on the floor together, panting and kissing and bathed in each other’s sweat and scent.

  After a while, she asks, “So that’s what you were keeping from me the other day? The visit from Dante?”

  I can’t mask a grimace, and she reaches out to smooth the frown lines away from my forehead. “Yeah. And now it’s your turn.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Where did you go that day? What were you doing?”

  She takes a deep breath. If she has to steel herself, I’m not sure I’m going to like what’s coming next. “You should probably brace yourself. This is going to be really big.”

  ***

  I stand outside Best of Both Worlds, my hand frozen on the door handle. I know all I need to do is give it a little push, then put one foot in front of the other until I’m standing in front of Dixie. But when I think of everything that will happen after that, my muscles seem to lock up.

  All these years. All that searching. All the dead ends and false hope.

  All down to this.

  I feel Waverly squeeze my other hand and look over at her. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  I pause. “No,” I answer truthfully. “But I have to.”

  She nods, and I see my future flash before me in the depths of her eyes. Even if this doesn’t go as planned, I know I’ll have a soft place to land. I’ll be okay. No matter what. I’ll never be that abused, tortured, worthless, unwanted kid again. Waverly Emerson wants me. And that’s enough. “Are you sure you want me here with you?”

  This time I respond without hesitation. “Yes. Absolutely.”

  My chest hurts, and I realize I forgot to breathe. I force myself to inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. Then I push the door open and step into the restaurant. The two security guards from Troy’s team enter behind us, trying to look casual.

  Since it’s not the busy time of the day, we ask the hostess if she can get Dixie for us. I hope against hope that Pepper and Carter will let her leave the kitchen.

  Dixie strolls over, a wide smile on her kind face. “Well, bless my soul. Mr. Caldwell never said you two were coming in. It’s been a while. Come on, I’ll fetch you an appetizer. What would you like to drink?”

  I swallow hard. The words feel like lead weights in my mouth. “Actually, Dixie, um...could we speak with you in private? I know you’re working, but I promise I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t extremely important. Does Carter have an office back there? With a door?”

  Dixie’s face falls, confused. “Well, sure, sugar pie, when you put it like that.” She turns to one of the servers, a girl in her early twenties with purple highlights in her hair. “Jezzie, tell Pepper I’ll be in her office if she gets here before I come out.”

  “No problem,” Jezzie replies with a nod.

  Dixie leads us through the kitchen and to an elegantly appointed office. Awards line the walls, including a Michelin star certificate inside a gilded frame. She slides into the massive leather chair behind the desk, leaving the two chairs opposite for Waverly and me.

  “What’s the matter?” she asks, her eyes full of concern. “I’ve seen you in some rough states, but you never looked like this before...like you’ve seen a ghost or somethin’. Is Mr. Nixon Caldwell ridin’ ya like a rodeo bull? If he is, I’ll done tan his hide.”

  I summon all my courage. It’s not too late. I can still make some excuse and bug off.

  But I have to know. My heart plays tug of war with my soul. One step forward and two steps back. Sometimes, the darkness is more familiar than the light.

  “Dixie, this question is going to sound strange, not to mention extremely personal,” I begin, choosing my words with care, “and I don’t want to upset you, but like I said, this is important, okay?”

  She nods warily. “Go on, sugar pie. Don’t keep an old girl in suspense.”

  “Did you happen to live in Alabama thirty years ago?”

  She squints at me, probably uncertain of where this is going and thinking I’ve lost my mind. “I’m an Alabama girl. Why?”

  “Dixie...when you were there...did you...” I feel like I’m going to hyperventilate, and I try to get my breathing under control again. “Did you give a baby up for adoption?”

  Her jaw drops. When she speaks again, it’s a hoarse whisper and her eyes fill with tears. “Why would you ask me something like that? What is this about?” She turns her gaze until she’s staring at the wall just over my shoulder, looking deep in thought.

  “Dixie...please. Tell me.”

  My words pull her from her memories, their meaning sending her gaze to lock with mine. I search their soulful beauty. Judging from the response, she already knows. She just needs me to say it.

  I swallow around the lump of pent-up emotion in my throat and brazen on. “Because, um...that baby–”

  “No.” She shakes her head. “Please, no.”

  “I’m pretty sure it was me, Dixie. I think you’re my mother.”

  Dixie staggers into the chair with shock, and she rocks backward a few inches on its tiny metal wheels. She blinks hard, looking at me with new eyes. “But...how? I mean...the records...I tried, years later I tried to find...but there was a fire, and...” Her eyes cloud with unshed tears.

  “Waverly found a way around all that,” I tell her, after I curse, low and dark in the silent room. Eloquent words seem to fail me during life’s most intimate moments. Now that I have Waverly, I’ll have to work on that.

  Dixie takes a deep breath and wipes at the tears that have spilled from her eyes before turning to look at Waverly. “Well, young lady, you must be some kind of a genius with a mighty big brain.”

  “She is.” My chest puffs out with pride. “She knew this was what I wanted more than anything in life, and she gave it to me. Because we’re in love.”

  Dixie’s mouth works at the hinges for a long moment. She gets up from the chair and walks around the desk to stand in front of me. My heart thunders in my chest. Is this the part where it all ends? Where every sliver of hope gets eradicated?

  But then she reaches out, touching the side of my face in a gentle caress. A mother’s touch. Her eyes are a kaleidoscope of emotions – shock, fear, relief, love, shame.

  “Oh...oh, my sweet Jason,” she breathes. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m so terribly sorry. Have you really been looking for ‘lil ole me all this time?”

  I nod, a lump in my throat. I have a name. For the first time in my life, I’m not a persona but a person. I’m Jason. Jason Pendergrass. “I needed to know why. My life has been...well, um, it’s been difficult, and...I just figured, if I knew why you felt like you had to...do that...”

  She nods and another lonely tear escapes and falls down her cheek. “Of course. You deserve to know. It’s hard...I’ve never really talked about it with anyone...but I’ll tell you. I was just fifteen. My family had nothin’. There were six of us livin’ in one trailer, without a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of. And then one day I was comin’ home from school, and we had this neighbor, Willie...he was a real mean, ole drunk. He grabbed me off the back road and he...he, um...”

  “Holy Mother of God.” Waverly hisses from beside me.

  Dixie pauses, wiping tears from her eyes before continuing. “I didn’t want to do it, and I tried to fight him off, but he was about twice my size, and he was on top of me, holdin’ me down. Hurt me real bad, he did. He said if I told anyone, he’d kill me. A few weeks later, I missed my period and realized I had his baby inside me, and...well, it was just so hard, you understand? I couldn’t bear the thought of raising someone with the same face, the same eyes, as the man who’d done that to me. Plus, I was just a kid myself. I couldn’t take care of a baby. I wanted so badly for circumstances to be different.”

  She sniffs hard. So do I. So does Waverly. My father was a raping bastard. It will take a few moments for that to sink in.

  “So when I had my Jason...him...you,” she corrects herself with a shake of her head, “
I gave him away. I had to. I kept tellin’ myself that wherever you ended up, it had to be a better life than I could’ve given you. But that decision’s always haunted me, and years later, I realized that none of what happened was your fault. You deserved to know who your real mother was, and why I did what I did. By the time I tried to find you, though, it was too late. The records were gone. So I gave up, moved to Vegas since it was your last known location according to the adoption people, and tried to get on with my life. I’ve felt closer to you here. Little did I know how close. I’m so sorry, darlin’. Now that you know, can you ever forgive me?”

  I feel tears welling up in my eyes. I glance over at Waverly and see that her own tears have burst free and she sobs through her clutched fingers.

  “Of course, I can, Dixie. I’m just so glad I finally found you.”

  “Me too,” she sobs. “Oh, Jason, me too.”

  We fall into each other’s arms, holding ourselves up as we laugh and cry and celebrate. Waverly stands a short distance away, drying her eyes as she watches us with so much joy she looks like she might burst. Overcome with emotion for me, she’s never looked more exquisite.

  “So,” Dixie says, pulling herself away from me and sniffling. “Now that you two are together, what’s next for you?”

  “Well, we’ve decided to merge our software companies.” I wipe the tears from my cheeks, drying my hands on the seat of my jeans. “We figure the release of SkyEye will give us a good jolt of publicity so other projects will start to come our way.”

  “Don’t forget the other thing,” Waverly reminds me.

  “And we’re going to live together,” I continue, smiling. “The couple that works together, lives together, and loves together – stays together.”

  Dixie claps her hand to her chest in surprise and delight. “Really? Oh, how wonderful.”

  I nod. “I asked her to move in right after she told me about you.”

  “Then the only thing left to do is to make a family together.”

  As I clutch my mom in one arm and the woman I love in the other, I vow that creating my own modern version of a family is exactly what I’m going to do.

  Epilogue

  “I knew things would end up perfect. That fucking whelp, Caldwell, doesn’t know his own ass from a hole in the ground.”

  Charles lurks around the corner, almost as if he thinks I’m going to do him bodily harm. As if I have time to stoop so low. I have people for that.

  “You said it, boss. I knew it all along.”

  I straighten my red silk tie, giving it a hard yank. I like to look as perfect as I feel. Even with Reagan back in town, I knew that Caldwell would never win. I had my contacts at the gaming commission pull his financials, and I know he had a loss last quarter. It won’t take much to steal his crappy little shithole of a casino right out from under his ignorant nose.

  My latest assistant, Melody, sits outside my office. Since dipshit Charles left the door open, I decide to just holler instead of using the intercom. This one hasn’t sucked my cock yet, but she will. It’s an unwritten part of the job description under, ‘other duties as assigned.’

  “Melody, get Jack Princeton on the phone right away.”

  “Yes, Mr. Giovanetti.”

  Charles slips into the leather chair across from my desk with a frown on his ugly mug. “Why the fuck you need your lawyer, boss?”

  I lean back in my chair and tent my hands in front of me as if I’m praying. But I don’t need God’s help. I have every cop, judge, lawyer and powerful motherfucker on my bankroll. I can have anything I want at the touch of a button.

  “Watch and learn.”

  “Mr. Princeton on line one.” Her voice sounds like a sweet summer rain, and I allow myself one magical moment before I ruin Caldwell’s life to imagine her mouth more productively engaged in pleasuring me.

  “Jack. It’s Dante Giovanetti over at the Mona Lisa. I have a job for you. There’s this casino I’ve been wanting to obtain by hostile takeover...”

  What will happen next?

  Something none of them will ever see coming.

  It all ends in the final installment of the best-selling Caldwell Brothers Series, On the House, Lincoln’s story, coming July 2018!

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  Raincheck by Colleen Charles ©2018 All Rights Reserved

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Colleen Charles loves reading and writing stories that entertain and sweep the reader away from their everyday life.