by Smith, CP
Thirteen
Messages
“BABY, I NEED you to call me back.” Joe was leaving Nashville General after visiting Chris. His son was recovering at lightning speed, thanks to the surgeons and the placement of the bullet that had ripped through his shoulder. The doctors were discussing sending him home within the next day or two. His son Nick, who was visiting at the same time, had assured Joe he would take Chris home with him until he was fit to be on his own. With that promise, Joe had hugged both his sons and left. He needed to get back to Bernice. Something was wrong. He could feel it deep in his bones.
She hadn’t answered any of the times he’d called her, so he scanned his contacts for Devin’s number. It rang, then went to voicemail. Joe opened his mouth to leave a message but stopped when he heard his name called out. He turned, then grunted low in his chest as his ex-wife’s body slammed into him. She’d thrown herself at him.
Joe automatically grabbed hold of her waist to balance them both. He opened his mouth to ask her, “What the fuck are you doing?” and she slammed her mouth over his, locking her arms around his neck so tightly he couldn’t move his head. He reached up to pull her arms free, just as her tongue touched his lips. He jerked on contact and wrenched her arms down, then stepped back and wiped his lips with the back of his hand.
“Jesus, woman. What the fuck?” Joe growled.
Heather smiled coyly, then tried to throw her arms around him again. Joe put a hand up and stepped back, and she stopped, frowning. “Joe, honey, isn’t it wonderful that Chris is going to be okay?”
“Yeah, Heather. Now explain why the fuck you’re throwing yourself at me.” She reached out and tried to run a finger down his arm. Joe looked at her hand, then stepped back farther out of her reach.
“Aren’t you happy to see me? It’s been five years.”
The hairs on the back of his neck began to rise, and Joe glanced around the outside of the hospital. It felt like they were being watched. “Honestly?” he mumbled, searching the crowd for a familiar face. “I could have gone the rest of my fucking life without seeing you again.”
Heather gasped, shocked silent for once in her life, then spit out, “You fucking asshole.”
Joe strode past her without responding and kept going without looking back. He didn’t know what her game was, but he wasn’t playing it for another minute.
He wiped his mouth again to get rid of the cherry-red lipstick she’d smeared on her lips. He hadn’t seen Heather in five years, but she hadn’t changed that much. She’d always been a beautiful woman, but her attitude made her ugly. He glanced back finally to make sure she wasn’t following him and caught her on the phone. She was dressed to kill in a skintight red dress and needlepoint heels. Any man who didn’t know her would take a second look, but the minute she opened her mouth, they’d walk away unless she played her games. That’s how she’d caught Joe. She’d played sweet to get in there, then got pregnant to keep him. She was venom.
Thank Christ he’d found Bernice.
He lifted his phone to redial Devin and found the call was still engaged. He hung up and redialed. “Devin, this is Joe. Call me. I had to head back to Tennessee to check on my son. I can’t reach Bernice, and I want to make sure she made it back to Savannah safely.”
He hung up and headed for his rental. He’d fly out the next morning and pick up his bike. If he hadn’t heard from Bernice by the time he passed near the Outer Banks, he’d deviate and make sure she wasn’t still at the beach house.
He turned his rental toward Murfreesboro. While he was in town, he’d stop by the club and check on things. He’d talked to Brandon that morning to see if they were any closer to finding the liquor thief. He and Devin were unsuccessful rooting him out when the stealing stopped, and it’s burned in his gut ever since. Brandon said they hadn’t then informed Joe that Mikki, their number-one stripper, had given notice. She had put herself through law school, thanks to the club, and just graduated. Another woman Joe, Mike, and now Brandon had helped.
He smiled when he thought about the busty blonde who played the bimbo act to the hilt, bringing in the high rollers in waves. He was proud of her. As proud as any father could be.
It took him forty-five minutes in traffic to get to Teasers from Nashville. He waved at the bar manager as he headed to the back. He’d been gone less than a week, so he’d caught everyone off guard with his return. He heard squeals from some of the waitstaff who were setting up as well as a few of the dancers who were practicing. He shook his head, ignoring their catcalls with a wave of his hand, and made his way to Brandon’s office, knocking on the door before opening it.
“Come in.” Brandon’s voice sounded strained.
Joe opened the door, knowing what he’d find. Just as he’d expected, one of their dancers was in the office flirting with Brandon while she wore nothing but a lace thong and push-up bra.
“See you later,” Rebecca purred.
He watched her until she closed the door and shook his head in exasperation. “That girl is like a fucking jellyfish. She latches on, and you can’t get rid of her ‘til you pry that fucker off.” He turned his attention back to Brandon. “How are you doing?”
“I’m good; just trying to get Mikki’s spot filled.”
“It’s going to be hard to fill, but I have no doubt you will,” Joe replied, sitting down in a chair.
“Yeah, I’m not too sure about that.”
Joe started to give him some advice when a loud knock sounded on the door. He turned toward it just as Sebastien, their doorman, ducked his head in. “Hey, boss, I thought you’d like to know someone’s here for a job.”
“See? I told you,” Joe stated.
“The thing is,” Sebastien said, seeming conflicted, “she doesn’t come off as a dancer.”
“What do you mean?” Brandon questioned, standing up to walk around the desk.
Sebastien put up his hand and walked back to the door, opening it. He nodded his head, and an innocent-looking woman walked in. “Gentlemen, this is Aurora.”
Joe froze. She didn’t look like a stripper; she reminded him of Bernice’s niece. She was too fucking innocent for Teasers. Joe instantly wanted to take her by the hand and walk her out of the club. Joe stood, ready to take Brandon aside before he made a mistake and hired her, and caught the look in Brandon’s eyes. It was like a punch to the gut. The kid was a goner.
“Aurora.” Brandon purred her name like he was tasting it, and Joe hid his grin. “Please come in.” He motioned to the chair Joe had just vacated.
“I should be going,” Joe said, trying to keep from laughing. The kid had been struck hard by the woman. The word BOOM! tumbled around in his head, and he shook it slightly. November would have a field day with this. “Aurora, good luck.” Joe looked at Brandon and winked. “From the looks of it though, I don’t think you’re going to need it.”
Joe exited the room, containing his laugh.
When he entered the main lounge, he headed to the bar, scanning the area for cleanliness. The bottles were full, the glasses lined up neat and tidy, ready to go when they opened at four.
Music interrupted the normal flow as the employees set up to open. The doors opened moments later, and customers began to file in. It still surprised Joe how many men waited for their doors to open. It had benefited their dancers and his family over the years, but it still surprised him. Naked flesh could never replace the love of a good woman. He knew that better than anyone.
He leaned against the bar and watched as a night at Teasers began. He couldn’t say he would miss being there day in and day out, but he’d miss organizing the people. Handling the day-to-day functions of making a business work. He’d put his MBA with a focus in finance to good use over the years. They’d held their own in the hard times, thriving healthily during financial booms. That part of the business he would miss. Making everything work. Making their money grow.
Brandon’s door opened before he had a chance to duck out, so he headed
that way to say goodbye. Aurora smiled brightly at him as she passed through the open door, and he shook his head. He knew Brandon had hired her without asking. In what position, he didn’t know, but he knew with an instinct born of a man who’d just found the woman of his dreams, it wouldn’t be dancing. Brandon wasn’t the type of man who would allow another man to look at his woman.
“Is she going to work?” Joe asked as he strolled through the door.
“Yup. She starts tomorrow at eight in the morning.” Brandon answered, still looking toward the door.
Joe hid his smile. “Care to explain how you are going to be here at eight when you stay ‘til closing? And while you’re explaining that, do you want to explain what the fuck she is going to do ‘til four, when we actually open?” He put his hands together and stared at Brandon, hiding his smirk.
“She can do office work,” Brandon defended. “I need help.”
“Since when?” Joe leaned forward and raised a brow when he didn’t answer. “That’s what I thought.”
Joe rose and strolled out of the office, grinning. He wished he could be here to watch the show, but he’d rather be in Georgia with Bernice. He scanned the bar one last time and began to leave but stopped when he saw a familiar face. Charlie. He’d fired her a month ago, so what was she doing in his bar? He started to head her direction, but he halted when one of their waitresses stopped in front of him, smiling. “Hey, Joe.”
“Candi, you doin’ okay?”
Candi was a single mother trying to escape a bad relationship. She waitressed rather than stripped, but her full figure guaranteed her plenty of tips. She looked over her shoulder before answering him.
“I’m good, Joe. I missed seeing you before you took off. I wanted to give you a present.”
“Save your money for a college fund. I don’t need any—”
Candi moved before he could react. She wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him tightly, resting her head on his chest.
Joe froze.
“One of the girls said this would be okay when I saw you and mentioned I missed your going-away party. I wanted to thank you for always being a great boss. You’ve been more like a father to me than my own.”
Joe relaxed and raised his arms to return her hug, patting her gently before stepping back. “You’re a good kid, Elizabeth.” Joe used her real name rather than the one she chose while she worked. “You keep fighting for a better life, you hear me? And if you ever need help,”—Joe pulled out his wallet, taking out a business card with his private cell number printed on it—“call me at this number, and I’ll see what I can do.”
Tears stung her eyes. She rose up and kissed him on the cheek. “Wish there were more men like you,” she mumbled, then turned and walked away.
Joe watched her for a moment and figured she’d be just fine. She had mettle. She was one of the ones who fought back against the world instead of lying down and letting it keep beating her.
Glancing back to where he saw Charlie, Joe searched the area, but she was gone. He scanned the rest of the bar looking for her familiar face, then moved to the doorman. “You remember Charlie?”
He nodded, then jerked a thumb toward the entrance. “She just left in a hurry with some man.”
They didn’t have rules about ex-employees coming as customers, so Joe let it go and headed outside. He rechecked his phone, hoping there was a message from Bernice or Devin. Nothing. It hit him then Bernice had the burner phone from Devin. In all the chaos that ensued, he hadn’t noticed if she had a charger for it. He relaxed a bit at the thought and climbed inside the rental.
He dialed November’s number before starting his vehicle.
“Hey, Joe. How’s Chris?”
He smiled, hearing her voice. Once he was settled in Georgia, he’d invite the whole family down so they could get to know Bernice. “He’s a Rouger, so he’s healing quickly.”
“Good genes.” He could hear her smile through the phone.
“I’m heading back to Georgia tomorrow so—”
“Come to the house, then! I’m grilling burgers on the deck while Asher swims with the girls.”
Joe smiled. “Sounds like a plan.”
His phone beeped, indicating an incoming call. He glanced down and saw it was Devin.
Finally.
“Gotta go. See you in a few,” he told his niece, then swiped Answer.
“Devin?”
“I got your messages,” he stated crisply.
“Have you heard from Bernice?”
A pause.
“She’s with her parents.”
Relief slid in place like a hot knife through butter. The knot he’d been carrying around since the last call went to voicemail evaporated like rain on a summer’s day.
“You wanna explain about the first message?”
His brow furrowed. “The first?”
“The muffled one with a woman callin’ you Honey.” The words came out sharp like he’d cut them with his teeth.
“Jesus,” Joe mumbled, shocked his voicemail recorded their confrontation. “She’s still screwing me over, and we’ve been divorced for years.”
Another pause.
“Are you still seein’ your ex-wife?” Devin growled.
Joe could cut the tension over the phone with a knife, and Devin’s attitude began to make sense. He’d told Joe he would run him out of town if he found out Joe wasn’t the man he thought he was. “I only want one woman,” Joe growled back. “I haven’t seen my ex in five years. We ran into each other in front of the hospital. I have no intention of seeing her again.” Devin didn’t respond. The looming silence was deafening in the shadows outside the club. “Is there a problem?” Joe bit out.
“Give me a minute, and I’ll call you back,” Devin replied angrily and then hung up.
Joe stared at the phone as unease began to snake up his chest. He needed to get back to Savannah, sooner rather than later. He started his rental and peeled out of the parking lot. His phone vibrated with an incoming text as he eased on the interstate, heading for the airport. He drove until he cleared the on-ramp, then pulled to the side of the road when it was safe.
The text was from Devin. He opened the message and the accompanying image. His heart stuttered to a stop as he stared at a picture of Heather and him. It was taken just as her mouth closed over his. His eyes were shut from the impact. His hands at her waist. It looked like a lover’s embrace. He’d been there, knew how much he hated Heather, and even he would have believed what this image implied: Joe was cheating on Bernice.
That feeling he’d had of being watched . . .
Rage, fierce and lethal, pounded through his blood. Preston Armstrong may not have shot his son, but he wasn’t done. He’d been set up by his fucking ex. He curled his hand into a fist and took a deep breath. He wasn’t going down without a fight.
Joe dialed Devin as his blood pressure spiked to new heights. The younger man answered on the second ring and waited for Joe to speak. “I’ve been set up by Preston Armstrong. My ex blindsided me today in front of the hospital. That’s why you have two messages. Can you clean up the audio?”
Thank Christ it recorded their encounter.
“You want me to believe Preston found your ex and had her set you up?”
“I don’t give a fuck if you believe me or not. Only Bernice. But I’m telling you that’s what happened.”
“Jesus,” Devin sighed, sounding tired. “I actually believe that convoluted mess.”
“Tell me a hotshot detective like yourself can clean up that audio.”
“I can clean it, but it will take time, and I can’t guarantee we’ll be able to hear everything.”
“Do what you can, and I’ll do the rest. I’m headed to the airport now. I’ll hit Virginia first and pick up my bike and see you sometime tomorrow.”
“How’s your son?”
“He’s fine, thank Christ. They’re releasing him tomorrow or the next day under his brother’s care.” Joe he
sitated to ask the question he really needed to be answered, because he already knew the truth. “Has Bernice seen this image?”
Long pause.
“Yeah.”
He closed his eyes as an ache burned in his chest. Bernice didn’t trust men easily, thanks to her father, and right now she thought he’d betrayed her. It clawed at him, he was so far away, without a way to contact her. In a burst of anger that wouldn’t be denied, he punched the steering wheel once, twice, three times before he could rein in his temper enough to speak.
“I’ll clean up the audio, Joe. Just get here.”
“Tell her . . .” He still couldn’t talk. His head was pounding. He knew his blood pressure was through the roof.
“Bernice is headed back to town with her parents. If she comes here, I’ll do my best to convince her. Calla tried calling her, but she won’t speak to anyone. Not even Eunice.”
“I should have brought her with me,” Joe ground out.
“Why didn’t you?”
A silent pause full of regret.
“I thought I’d have to kill her father if my son died.”
Fourteen
Mufasa
I REACHED FOR Joe but found crisp sheets instead. Opening my eyes slowly, I let the light adjust my vision to the muted colors of the morning. I stared at the empty pillow where I expected Joe’s head to be and frowned. He wasn’t with me because he was in Tennessee. The image of Joe and his ex-wife crossed my memory. Her red dress, which clung tightly to her body; hands raised higher on her legs as Joe held her slightly off the ground while she kissed him. It had gutted me the moment I laid eyes on it. I’d thought . . . I’d thought Joe was different. Believed it down to my core. I forgot that belief the instant my father handed me his phone. My brain shut down as feelings of betrayal and insecurity ravaged my confidence that what Joe and I had was special. Once-in-a-lifetime special. I stayed trapped in that headspace until the jealous rage that colored my thought process cleared. It was then I began to remember again. Joe was different. I’d felt it.
That’s why I was at my parents’ mansion on Hilton Head instead of in Savannah. I’d dared to ask my father if the image was fake. He had an IT guy who could break into the Pentagon, for goodness sake. Photoshopping Joe and his ex-wife together would have been child’s play. I held on to that belief until my father pulled out his phone and barked out an order for more images. And they came. While we climbed my father’s jet to head back to Georgia, his phone began to ping with texts.
