Make Me Stay: A Second Chance Romance

by Amarie Avant

  Alexander—doing away with him—obviously, he did. But she assumed her father had gone so far as to murder him.

  “I can never apologize enough.” He kissed her forehead.

  Avery caressed her hand along his jaw. Her eyes burned with tears, but she didn’t cry. “I’m not angry with you. Just don’t say anything about dying, please don’t. Those words are enough to stop my heart.”

  He held her tighter now, ashamed about giving up on her in the past. “Wait,” he said, then pulled her to arm’s length. “I know our money isn’t enough to finish this place. But there’s an associate of mine . . .”

  She made an X with her forearms while shaking her head. “Oh, hell no. Where did you get the money, Donnie? I have about $40 grand still saved from record sales, which I prided myself for penny-pinching until you mentioned how much you have. Wow. Where’d you get it?” She cocked her head; the movement was enough to warn him to tell the truth.

  Donavan never lied to her. He pulled at a mass of his thick, curly hair before explaining. “Don’t worry about how I got the money. It’s mine. And I won’t do the stuff . . . I do to get it anymore.”

  She glanced at him with bright eyes.

  “And the dude I’m referring to, the associate. Well, he’s a legit contractor. His son’s in jail. He needs the business.”

  “Hmmm.” She leaned up to kiss his lips. “What do you do?”

  “I worked in banking. Now I’m in hospitality.” He nudged his chin to the Baudelaire estate.

  “Banking? I’m assuming the company didn’t have a really good customer service facet?”

  “I did that too.” He kissed the laugh from her lips.

  CHAPTER 25

  Donavan

  He had to finish the last assignment for Palmer. His boss wasn’t the kinda of guy to stronghold his employees. But last night, Donavan parted ways with Avery for the first time in days. Avery agreed to stay at the guesthouse while he was away.

  She’d held him tightly before he’d gotten on his Kawasaki and begged him to stay safe.

  After that, he’d connected with Moses, who’d put out a request on the streets about the whereabouts of crazy old Willie. That fucker had stopped working at JJ’s. By nightfall, Donavan had the details of where to find Willie.

  The fool had made some smart moves, scary as hell, but smart. He was holed up with his old lady in the next County over. When Donavan roughed him up a little, Willie had the nerve to get his lady to grab her lockbox full of stripping tips. There was more than enough to pay what he owed Palmer, so Donavan took a little kickback for his troubles, even though the money smelled like hot ass.

  This morning, he intended to speak with Quentin Johnson, the man he’d mentioned to Avery as an associate of his. The construction owner hated Donavan’s guts, but he was going to ask Johnson to help resurrect Baudelaire to its previous grander for a fraction of the cost. Avery wanted this so bad, so had decided to play nice for once.

  Donavan hadn’t even gotten up out bed when he first heard a knock at the door. It was too early in the morning for any of his neighbors to come by. With pajama pants and a wife beater on, Donavan rolled out of bed as the knocking continued. The person begging to suck on the end of his Berretta refused to stop their pounding.

  He grabbed his gun from his top drawer, feet moving soundlessly over the natural, scuffed wood floor. He undid the safety while heading to the front door.

  The moment Donavan glanced through the peephole, he growled. He eyed his gun before moving it to the back of his waistband.

  Donavan opened the door and stepped outside the house with his hands atop his head.

  He glared at Mr. Castle who had on a crisp power suit. The tiny dick convertible he drove was in the driveway next to Donavan’s Silverado and behind his motorcycle. As Donavan stepped out onto the porch, Alexander did his best to peek inside before Donavan closed the door behind him.

  The hard look in Donavan’s gaze told Alexander to get to the point of his visit. “So, you’re back, running around with Avery.”

  “Running around? We aren’t kids anymore, Mr. Castle.” Donavan folded his arms, tree stumps for legs in a wide stance.

  “Donnie—”

  “Don't you go there,” Donavan ordered mouth twisted in anger. “We are not friends. I have called you Mr. Castle my entire life while inwardly knowing your true colors. Keep it formal.”

  Alexander held up a hand in an apology of sorts. “I hear your father is sick?”

  “Sick and tired up people looking down on him, us. Yeah.” Donavan shrugged.

  “Multiple sclerosis,” Alexander said knowingly. His attempt at showing empathy made his hard face contort awkwardly.

  “How about a live-in nurse of the highest caliber? I know just the one,” Alexander began to take out his cell phone while mentioning just how competent the woman was with her patients and perhaps others.

  Donavan held in all his emotions as the asshole licked his lips. He, himself, had more respect for Verdie.

  “Not necessary, Mr. Castle. I'm confident that you or your arsenal of hounds can keep tabs on me, ensure I’m treating Avery with the utmost respect.”

  Grunt.

  “As you said, we’re running around, which I reckon in laymen’s terms means all that grown ass of hers belongs to me. After all, I’m a grown man too, Mr. Castle, don’t you worry.”

  Donavan smiled. He could see the smoke coming from Alexander’s ears. He always tried to be respectful for Avery’s sake but was just enough of an asshole to momentarily stoop to Alexander’s level.

  “I may have stretched my thread to you in the past, Donnie Boy. I wouldn’t have murdered your family as I claimed. But as you, yourself just said, “You’re not a child anymore.” You’re fair game. If so much as a hair on my daughter’s head is caressed a little too harshly . . .” He chuckled. “I always forget that a dog like you turns into a puppy around her. Guess I’ll be sticking close to home for a while, ensuring that everything is going smoothly.”

  Donavan looked across the street as a yellow bus stopped at the edge of a curb, and two elementary-aged brothers came running out of the shotgun house in front of it. Good. He needed people around. He needed a reason not to lay Alexander’s ass out on the ground for the fucked-up way he’d been manipulated.

  “Shit, Mr. Castle, I had you pegged for a man so consumed with status. But here you are, considering your daughter’s welfare over how other peers of yours perceive you. I’ll have to reevaluate my lack of respect for you. Now, get this clear.” He stepped closer to the man. “Avery is as precious as a flawless diamond to me. And as you can see, I ain’t no wealthy man. So, I’m rich in love. You have my word that I not only love, care for and deeply admire your daughter, but you and I are on the same team. Just like you’d threaten a man for hurting her, I’d murder a motherfucker over her.”

  Alexander gave a sardonic look. He rubbed his freshly trimmed goatee in contemplation. “Same team? The two of us?”

  Donavan didn't fear Avery’s father as he had once in the past, which made Donavan chuckled. When Alexander would be at home and disappear in the next second, it was no secret that the man had a demanding job. Avery had shown him her pop’s office that had a cabinet full of every type of gun and ammunition you could think of. But that was then; this was now. Donavan was no kid, scared for his and his parents’ safety if Alexander decided to have one of his special agents clip them.

  As swiftly as the parting of the Red Sea, Donavan stood before Alexander. Though the man didn't flinch, a glimmer in his marble black eyes eluded to a surplus of emotions: Fear. Anger. Irritation.

  He played on the older man’s emotions, disregarding every single one and offering a cocky grin. “This is progress. Maybe you’ll buy expensive ass cigars to celebrate the birth of our next child.” Though he was playing nice, a fire lit in Donavan’s eyes. If Alexander Castle was any other man, he’d have done a takedown and choked him out right now, no disregard for cons
equences.

  Due to Alexander’s meddling, he’d missed seeing a beautiful, pregnant Avery and helping her give birth. They were men. He did not need to mention as much, and Alexander knew exactly what he’d stolen from him. Memories. The perfect life. The love of his first-born son.

  Though they were of a similar height, their bodies were very different. Alexander stayed lean with an organic, chef’s special diet, personal training, and exercise. Donnie, on the other hand, was the product of beef, potatoes and manual labor—stocky, ropy arms and thick, sturdy legs. If he wanted, Donavan could pick Alexander up and toss the power-driven fuck all the way over to the side of his cherry red, dick of a car. Instead, he smiled through the pain of stolen memories.

  Guilt rode on Alexander’s tensed eyebrows. Donavan couldn’t imagine the man apologizing, so he took a few steps back, not dumb enough to turn his back on his opponent.

  He closed the door in Alexander's stark face, turned on the heel, and stalked down the scuffed wood hallway.

  ~~~

  Quentin, who was often referred to as Que, had a roasted almond complexion with tiny smile creases around his eyes that had deepened further from all the contemplation he had recently done. His son had attended law school, and his rich friends had him at high stakes gambling houses owned by Palmer.

  Que had paid his debt to the detriment of his own contractor business, selling off important, necessary tools and machines. Then his son went and did something dumber, landing his ass in jail anyway.

  Now, Que and his wife had moved from their beloved five-bedroom home with light yellow shutters to a smaller townhouse that had a tiny front yard and a driveway that barely housed his truck. His wife’s dream car had been repossessed too.

  Quentin stood near the hood of his old GMC truck, fingers blackened with oil, a sign that Que’s Construction had seen better days and had hauled more tools than what was in the bed of it now. At the sound of Donavan’s Kawasaki zipping toward the curb of his home, he peeked out. Dark gaze narrowing, he dropped the hood of his truck and stalked over to Donavan.

  “What are you doing on my property?”

  “Good morning, Que,” Donavan held open his leather jacket as a show that he wasn’t packing heat. The last time he came around to shakedown Que’s son for Palmer, he’d had to put a gun to the man’s face because business called for it. “I have a proposition for you.”

  Que scoffed. “If I weren’t a God-fearing man, I’d tell you exactly where to put that too.”

  “It’s a legit business offer. All I ask is that you come to this address,” Donavan said, pulling a piece of paper from his pocket. “Take a look around and give me a breakdown of charges. The home is huge, needs a lot of work.”

  Que glared at the paper he held out. “Well, as you can see, I don’t have all the equipment I once had. And if I did, working for you is at the bottom of my list of things to do.”

  Quentin didn’t have half the equipment necessary to complete the assignment. However, what he had was a need, a need to put more food on his table and pay off a few credit cards. Donavan hadn’t planned that fast-talking him would be necessary. But Donavan could make the deal mutually beneficial. With Donavan fronting the money for some necessary tools, and Quentin working primarily to pay for said tools, his company would receive notice from the rich fucks that Donavan had no doubt would be invited to the Baudelaire home by none other than Verdie Castle, after she bragged about the place being complete. Also, Donavan would still pay Quentin for his time, once he and Avery started their bed and breakfast. Because he had no credit and rented his house from a friend, Donavan had no debts. He could make good on his promise. And Avery, well, Donavan would do anything to make her happy.

  “Take the paper, Quentin,” Donavan growled as the man started to walk away. Donavan stopped himself and offered a smile. Imagining how much help a contractor would be to Avery, Donavan offered a friendlier tone when he asked, “Have you heard of the Castle family?”

  “Who hasn’t,” Que shot over his shoulder.

  The screen door opened, and a woman with butterscotch skin came out. She was dressed in a cotton pants and one of those stupid t-shirts that people bought for no reason while on vacation, a neat and comfortable look. The shirt she was wearing came from Alaska, observing the fading of the Northern Lights, it was evident the trip had been taken long ago. There was a bright smile on her face as she started to offer for them to come inside for lunch when she noticed her husband’s face.

  “Donavan Hardy is just leaving, honey. Besides, he’s one of Steve’s old friends—not one of the good ones either.”

  She offered a somewhat apologetic smile to Donavan. “Well, hello, Mr. Hardy.”

  Donavan’s face brightened into a genuine smile. It was enough to make her cheeks flush. He added charm to his South Carolina twang. “Ms. Johnson, how are you?”

  “Great,” she grinned and appeared to be conflicted with offering good hospitality and abiding by the wishes that were evident all over her husband’s face.

  “I’m trying to get your husband to work on the old Baudelaire home for Ms. Avery Castle.” Damn, now he was acting like Alexander Castle, dropping names of important folks and all.

  “Oh my, the Baudelaire home? Young man, that place is not a home; it’s a mansion.” Ms. Johnson gushed. She placed her hands on her hips and addressed her husband, “Que, bring the man inside so you all can talk business.”

  “Honey, I am not working for—”

  The woman’s face stopped him from arguing any further.

  CHAPTER 26

  Avery

  Biting on her bottom lip, Avery stood at the door to Salvador’s condo. Although she’d moved from New York a while ago, she’d spent many good times at Salvador’s home. She’d taken her things and dropped off his stuff almost two weeks ago. Since Antonio had intervened in her attempt to soften the blow of their breakup, she’d also left him a letter.

  But this morning, she’d seen a text that he had sent late last night about having something of hers, asking her to come around 10 a.m., before his shift. Having been thorough in returning his stuff and conducting a last walk through of his home, she had no idea what she’d left.

  Avery rang the doorbell. After a few minutes, she pursed her lips and used the side of her fist to offer an even greater knock, unsure if the doorbell was in working order.

  “Where is he?” she grumbled to herself after another minute.

  She walked around to the side gate, reached up and unattached the contraption from the opposite side of the gate. She entered the small area that had a tiny stone fireplace and a hammock they’d never gotten around to using since the weather was just now getting warm. Underneath a pot of violet and bright pink hibiscus flowers, she snatched up what used to be her set of keys.

  “Dammit, Sal, did you even read the damn letter?” Avery picked the key for the backdoor, while inwardly groaning about how she’d poured her heart out in the letter, in her attempt to explain why they couldn’t be together. And she’d taken all the blame too. She didn’t want Salvador to believe that she’d run back into the arms of another man

  She’d also added that she left the keys under the pot for one of those days he might need it.

  The door opened to the dining room, which had a chandelier above it that reflected a rainbow on a bright sunny day. The room was missing one small detail—a grand table.

  Though she couldn’t hear, the rest of her senses perked. She always felt uncomfortable, like a snoop when entering a place that seemed empty. She called out.

  Her gaze swept across the living room. Pizza boxes and bottles of Dos Equis were on the ground. This was unlike him. I’m a bad person. Her face became jaded with a pout. Salvador was a meticulous man; he even picked up after her at times.

  “Sal? Salvador?” She called out. In a place that once was her home away from homes for the past two years, Avery felt awkward as she roamed up the stairs. They’d made love on these very stairs a
little over a month ago.

  She didn’t feel guilty for the night she shared with Donavan that had rekindled their relationship, but as a romantic at heart, Avery felt downright dirty for what she’d done to Salvador.

  “Salvador?” She tried once more before heading down the hall to his bedroom. When she made it the double doors, she stopped in her tracks and stared.

  CHAPTER 27

  Salvador

  “There’s someone here, Sal,” Gina gasped, pausing mid-rise. The ecstasy on her pretty, but not quite gorgeous, face diminished as she contemplated what they’d both just heard, Avery calling out to him. She tried to climb off his cock, but he held her steady with a hand around her neck.

  “Keep fucking me, mi amor,” Salvador almost grit the words that he used to call Avery. He’d brought Gina home last night for one purpose only. He’d fucked her then to please her, and now she was fulfilling her sole requirement. He’d been calculating and timed it perfectly. Salvador had texted Avery late last night, after he knew she’d be sleep, and asked Avery to be here at this precise moment. He’d even left the key in the pot so that she could walk in on this.

  Just like Avery and Donavan, he and Gina had a history, and theirs ended the moment he crossed paths with Avery Castle.

  Gina was the woman his mother encouraged him to settle down with in the past. She had come right after Sondra. If he further analyzed the situation, she should’ve been the woman to revive him from the broken heart of having to kill Sondra, but she didn’t. Gina held a shit job at Smile Bright Dental in the lobby, attempting to take care of three kids that he’d never see himself caring one iota about. But when Avery and Antonio left Carmen’s home last week, his mother had snapped about him falling for the broken-hearted girls like Avery and Sondra.

  Sondra had been shark food about five years ago. And Avery was everything Sondra should’ve been: she just didn’t know how to stay in her place yet.