Morrison (Caldwell Brothers #2) (11 page)

It was tough putting them in a cab and saying goodbye. I made Hendrix promise to text when they were boarding the plane. When he did, I was throwing a few things in my suitcase, getting ready to head out myself. But first, I had Wheels and my attorney stopping over.

Needless to say, Wheels was stoked when he saw the place, while my lawyer told me I was an idiot, that no ass
was worth this. So, I told him like it is.

I came here to find a new life, strike gold, and become a better man than my father. I was leaving for a new life, a much better man than that fuck. I got what I came for, and now it is time to go home. Hell, Detroit is different now. There is good there. Fuck gold! I have platinum.

Wheels extended an open invitation and even told me that after sleeping
on it he didn’t feel right about this whole thing. I told him to shut the hell up and be happy. The kid smiled and nodded, and then we settled up everything we could. Whatever else needs to be done can be done through the mail.

He’s okay with me leaving Hailey’s car till I can get it back to Detroit. I was gonna let her decide if she even wanted the thing back, but I may just have him pawn the
title and walk. That way, she’ll have some cash toward one that is suitable for Ris Priss to ride in. Besides, the kid looked good in the Escalade, and she should always ride in style like that.

When everything is finished up, I decide to take one last spin down the Strip. I want to catch a glimpse, get photos in my head of the places where I fucked around as Aces. I was acting a part then that
I know now I never really was. It ain’t all bad, though. Actually, it feels damn good.

I stop at a light by Caesars and look in my mirror to see a truck with blacked-out windows, and the fucker is so close I can almost smell his breath. Next light, same shit.

It’s getting under my skin a bit when I hang a right to head out of town and Shitbag is still there.

Letting my temper get the best of
me, I hit the gas, and then the light ahead turns red. I stop on a dime and look in my mirror. The fucker is there again—and he ain’t slowing down. I look at the light, still red, and then at the cars coming through the light in both directions. I have nowhere to go.

I brace myself right before the collision of metal, the fucker still spinning his tires and literally climbing up my ass. I smash
the brakes to the ground, realizing whoever it is, they are pushing me into the intersection. The only thing I can do is hang fucking tight.

When I hear the rear window smash, I know the crazy fucker isn’t gonna stop, so I open the door to get the fuck out. As I do, the driver’s side to the truck opens, and who is it?

Monte fucking Timmons, holding a tire iron in his hand.

While he comes toward
me, I notice a patrol car in the parking lot of the Quickie Mart on the corner.

“You fucking kidding me, man?” I yell at him.

“I decided you don’t get my kid! She owes me.”

“The kid doesn’t owe you jack!” I jump back as he swings the tire iron on me. “That all you got? My old man swung harder than that.”

He swings again, and I duck, the swipe too fucking close for comfort. Then I see the cops
sprinting from the convenience store. One runs over to us and the other to their car. I hear them yelling, but don’t pay attention to the words they are saying outside of the word “Stop!”

“You owe me now.” He swings again, and I let it connect with my side.

Numb, I am fucking numb to pain.

“Come on, man. You gotta have more in you than that. Oh, snap, that’s right, you don’t. A woman like Hailey
wouldn’t have left if she were satisfied.”

A swing, a connection, and I am down. Perfect. I think this is working.

“I’m gonna kill you, motherfucker.”

“Give it your best shot.”

He swings again, and I roll as tire iron hits pavement; then he drops it. No sooner do I kick it out of the way than he dives on me. Then it’s a flurry of fist-to-face connections, one right after the other.

I laugh.
“Pussy.”

“Freeze,” I hear before I roll to my right, avoiding the last jab I planned to take before striking back.

Monte’s fist hits the pavement, and he cries out like a little bitch before being taken down by the two Vegas police.

I hop up and think for just a second that I should have lain there, let them think this fucker hurt me. Then I walk around my car, and what do I see? Well, that
is
fucking pain. The blows my ride just took were a perfect play in a game he may have started, but that I finished.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you, Aces!” he screams as they cuff him and shove him in the back of the squad car.

What do I say? Not a damn thing.

I am surrounded by people who’d witnessed his attack on either my vehicle or on me, all asking if I am okay. I say nothing.

Am I okay?
Hell yes, I am. The crazy fucker was unprovoked, and I didn’t lay a finger on him. Hell, no one even heard me say a word. I made sure of it.

Sean “
Monte
” Timmons is going away for a long fucking time.

The ambulance takes me to the hospital, where I find out I have two broken ribs and a concussion, and then I get a couple stitches near my temple. Afterward, the police interview me and I file
a report.

I have to stay the night since I have a head injury and they want to observe me. I get shot up with some killer drugs, then pass the hell out.

After two days, they finally release me, and Wheels gives me a ride to Hailey’s car. Then I take it to where my Porsche has been towed, only to find out she is a mangled mess. I have Monte’s insurance information and have sent in the police
report and pictures. I will hear back from the insurance company in a week. I am offered a rental but decline.

I grab my duffel bag and suitcase, shove them in the back of Hailey’s car, close it up, and slide in.

“What a heap of shit.” I laugh to myself as I slide the seat back to accommodate my legs.

I take my time driving back to Rock City so as not to push Hailey’s car too hard. My head
is throbbing, my side hurts too much to sit for very long, and I don’t wanna show up with a black eye and stitches.

The only thing I tell my brothers and Hailey, who only calls once a day, is that I am enjoying my road trip.

When I arrive back home, Hendrix walks out of his garage, wiping his hand on a grease towel. “Get a new car?” He laughs at me.

“Hailey’s ride. Got rid of the—”

“What the
hell happened to your eye?”

“Fell down the stairs when I was leaving. Vegas’s final kick to my ass to head me in the right direction.”

“Is that the story?”

“Yes, it is.”

“The pretty boy car?”

“Got rid of it.”

“Another lost bet?”

“I didn’t lose shit.” I look at the stairs leading up to the apartment. “She up there?”

“Nah. She went to work. Sally’s kid has a fever.”

“The youngest?”

“Yeah.”

“Kid’s sick a lot, isn’t she?” Hendrix nods his reply, and I ask, “The little chick?”

“Upstairs with your sister-in-law.”

“My sister-in-law, huh? You two on the outs?”

“Fuck no! Why would you say shit like that?” Hendrix clinches his fists.

“ ’Cause you said ‘your sister-in-law,’ not ‘my wife’ or ‘Livi’ or—” I shake my head, ’cause the fucker is confusing me.

“She
is
your sister-in-law. She’s
family, just like that little chick is starting to feel, and just like your ‘friend’ is, too.”

“Good. They need family.”

“You have a plan?”

“A plan?”

“Don’t play fucking dumb with me, Morrison. You like her enough to bring her here and then go back to Vegas to win her freedom. You sell your place, saying you don’t need anything in it, but you basically ignore her. When she spends the night
in your bed, you crash on the couch. Then you take your sweet time coming back here, not saying shit to any of us, having two-minute conversations with her, basically blowing her off. She and Livi are tight as hell, and Livi told me she’s into you, so what the fuck are you doing? The three of us are all in. But you? None of us have a fucking clue what’s going on in your head, then you come back here
with some bullshit story about the stairs. You don’t do all that if you aren’t gonna claim her.”

“Claim her?” I laugh. “Hailey isn’t one to lay claim to, Hendrix. The minute I do that, she’ll jet.”

“She ain’t going anywhere, Morrison. She knows what you’ve done, and anyone with half a brain and a heart knows she is falling just as hard and fast—”

“I’m not in it for the fucking fall, Hendrix.
What happens after you fall?” I don’t wait for him to answer. “You get up and move on. I’m not gonna let that happen.”

“You’re wrong, man.”

“You ain’t listening.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Different strokes for different folks. Your approach with Livi—the caveman shit, moving her in without her even knowing what was going on—that worked for a woman like Livi. The underwear
and shit; she already let you inside her—”

“Watch it,” he growls.

“Will you shut the fuck up and listen! It was exactly what she needed. She agreed to it, gave her consent to the thing that held her back. She wasn’t owned by her abuser in the literal sense of the word. You know that. But
I
know Hailey. That little momma isn’t gonna be around if it’s just because of the fall. I lay claim to her,
and she’s gonna head for the fucking hills the second there is a problem. With her, she needs to feel freedom from everything like she never did before, so
she’s
gonna be the one to claim
me,
you feel me?”

He smirks.

“I’ll play bitch to Hailey any day of the fucking week until she feels free. Then, and only then, will I show her what a Caldwell man really is. She doesn’t just have to fall; she
has to jump.”

“I wanna play twitch.” I hear the little one’s feet pitter-patter on the cement floor as she runs to me.

I squat down as she stops and smiles, and then I grab her and pull her into a hug. “You, I’m claiming.”

“Like the mermaid with that shell?” She giggles and hugs me back.

I have no fucking clue what the hell she’s talking about. I look up at Livi, who smiles at me and holds
her hand to her heart.

“She’s been watching
The Little Mermaid
movie,” she explains. “Clams.”

“You wanna watch?” Marisa asks.

“How about you call your momma and ask her if it would be all right for me to take you out on a dinner date?”

Days. I have spent days feeling like I am holding on to something while wondering if it’s really there in the first place.

Morrison and his road trip…Frustration builds further inside me as I dwell.

Does he really think I buy the bullshit he’s selling? Is he upset because I got in and played the game? Is he angry that I won my own pot to pay my way out? Did I mess up some plan
he had for me to be in debt to him?

My head is all over the place, as are my emotions. I want so desperately to trust him. The closer I get with Livi, the more I can see that the Caldwell boys are good. Then, when I don’t hear from Morrison, doubt fills me. Do I have blinders on? Am I seeing what I want to see, not what’s really there?

Given my history, I’m not good at judging people’s character.
Honestly, I have never been in a situation to sort out who is good and who is bad—I was never allowed choices. The people I met and associated with were Monte’s people. Even Jamie, in the beginning, was chosen by Monte to be my best friend, although I’m sure he never expected her to become a true friend and not just another pawn in his game.

Sure, Morrison answers when I call, but he has made
no attempt on his own to reach out to me. His return from Vegas has taken longer than I ever expected it to, as well. His response to that is he was taking in the scenery.

Again, I call bullshit.

I wipe down the bar in front of me. Oh, well, it is what it is, right?

“Deep in thought over there, girl,” Jared barks out at me.

I hurry over to him, then take another look around to make sure he
really was talking to me before I smile sweetly at him.

The man holds his liquor well. He also holds back so much behind those dark eyes as he spits out joke after joke to his friends. Serving the regulars, night in and night out, I have learned that friendships seem to form, and to last, over a simple glass or two, or three…

“Hit me with your best line.” He raises an eyebrow in challenge to
me. It’s the same thing he tries every night, and every time, his response is the same—a deep frown and a reply to try again on a different day.

“Why does Alice ask so many questions?”

He shrugs his shoulders for me to answer.

“Because she’s in Wonderland.” I smile, and Jared shakes his head.

“Momma, we need to get you out more often. Every night I come in here and you give me some fairy-tale
joke. My days of reading bedtime stories have long since passed. Serve me up, darlin’, and we’ll keep this our little secret.”

I laugh out loud, making him look at me strangely.

“I can actually serve you without making you laugh, really?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure that’s what I said.”

“You don’t let anyone serve you until they get at least a chuckle,” I add, not hiding my amusement.

“Everyone
needs a break sometimes, Hailey, and I think you need to catch one. So grab my drink and let’s chat.”

I do just that, and stay so enthralled in conversation it takes several seconds for my anxiety to build when my phone vibrates in my back pocket. No one has this number except Jamie, Olivia, the Caldwell boys, and Marshall.

Marshall. Vegas. Time to get a new phone.

Monte is a man of his word
in business ninety percent of the time. Am I about to become part of the ten percent?

“Hailey, you should answer the phone, not stare off like you just saw a ghost,” Jared barks, taking me out of my crazy thoughts.

Pulling the phone out, I swipe the screen when I see Morrison’s number. Of course he’d call now, when I’m busy.

Sighing, I answer quickly.

“Hey, little momma.”

At his voice, I
quiver. God, why am I so vulnerable to him?

“Ris Priss and I wanted to know if it was okay if we go out to dinner.”

“You’re here? You’re home? When did you get back in town?” I fire off the questions without stopping to let them sink in.

Morrison Caldwell is finally home from doing who knows what, who knows where, and the first thing he wants to do is take my daughter out to dinner? I don’t
know if I want to smile or cry.

No matter Morrison’s distance from me, he has made sure to talk to Marisa on the phone every day, and the first question he always asks is how she’s doing. She is a priority to him.

I just didn’t fully realize it until this moment.

“Slow down, Hailey. I got in about thirty minutes ago and found out you’re working. I wanted to take Marisa out for dinner and milk
shakes, but before I go anywhere, we wanted to get permission and see if you want us to bring something back for you.”

“Ummm…no,” I mumble, still trying to wrap my head around the fact that this gorgeous, all-consuming man who could be doing who knows what right now wants to take my daughter out for dinner and milk shakes. No one outside of Jamie has ever wanted to do something with her by themselves.

“Okay, I’ll keep her here at Hendrix’s, then. We’ll order pizza, if she can have that,” he says, sounding disappointed. When he doesn’t say anything further, it dawns on me that he misunderstood my reply.

“Wait!” I freak, realizing I am not getting the words out correctly. “I meant yes, you can take her out, but no for food for me. Thank you for the offer, though.”

“All right. We’ll see you
after work, little momma.”

As we disconnect the call, Jared is watching me.

“What?” I ask innocently.

Jared just shakes his head.

I serve a few more customers before Olivia comes in to help, since Morrison has Marisa. In the time I have had with his family, I have built solid bonds with each of them, especially her. Although I’m still not sure why Olivia is constantly rubbing her ass like
she is right now as she talks to Jared.

“Miss Independent,” she says, wiggling her butt, so I smack it playfully. Then we both laugh.

“Who is Miss Independent?” I ask, joining their conversation.

“My panties tonight remind me to be ‘Miss Independent.’ ” Livi answers like this is common knowledge.

My face must show my confusion, because Jared chimes in, “Inspirational underwear. Chick lives
for them.”

Olivia beams at me. “We have to get you a pair! You are totally Miss Independent.”

I drop my head in shame. “Not really. I came here on Morrison’s dime, running from my past. I’ve lived with you and Hendrix, and even though I’m paying rent, I know Hendrix is paying me more than he probably should. I don’t really consider that independent.”

“Good help is hard to find. Do you know
the turnover rate here? He’s paying you good because you are dependable and hardworking. You earn every penny you make, Hailey.”

I shrug as my mind drifts. “I need to find a place.”

“You know you’re welcome with us as long as you want.”

“Thanks, Livi, but I really need to find a place and start settling into my new life. Besides, I’m on edge waiting for Monte to send the papers signing over
his rights to Marisa. Maybe having to put my mind on finding and then moving into a new place will ease some of my anxiety.”

Livi rubs her ass again. “Miss Independent.” She smiles at me. “We’ll find you something.”

Jared pipes up, “Got a few places available in my building. It’s nothing fancy, and I wouldn’t say it’s the best neighborhood, but it ain’t the worst. And I’ll be there to keep an
eye on ya if you need something. Just a thought.”

We finish up the rest of the night in casual conversation as my mind continues to sort out what I can afford for my own place. I am relieved when I get off work to find that Morrison ended up driving my car back from Vegas. Even though it’s a piece of shit, already having a car means one less thing for me to try to squeeze into a budget right
now. I’m also in shock, because the man has a Porsche, for crying out loud, so why would he drive my beater of a car?

He looks like hell, but he won’t tell me what happened. The bruising has turned yellowish, so I know it’s a few days old. Part of me needs to know if one of Monte’s guys did it; however, I know Morrison won’t tell me if it was.

It takes me three weeks of working and saving
for all the utility deposits on top of rent and deposit for the two-bedroom, one-bathroom apartment I now hold the keys to. The apartment building, luckily for me, has only three units on my floor. One belongs to Jared; there’s my apartment; and the other belongs to a little old lady who, when she heard me moving in, came to her door with a baseball bat, totally ready to kick some ass. She also happens
to be an awesome baker and greeted us with chocolate chip cookies two days after we finally finished the move. It may not be the nicest place or be in the best neighborhood, but it could be a whole lot worse.

Among the many other things she did Livi took me to a secondhand store, where she helped me outfit our living room with a futon and a small TV and entertainment center. We don’t have cable,
but we have more than enough DVDs to keep Ris Priss occupied. Blow-up mattresses will have to do in our bedrooms for now, but it’s a start, and it feels good.

Morrison has been quiet other than talking about Marisa. Those two have bonded, and I am not sure how I feel about it. I try to keep my personal feelings separate from his relationship with my daughter.

It stings, though. He won’t even
kiss me. For a man who had to have me any way he could get me the night we met, now he doesn’t offer more than a quick hug in passing. Does my past turn him off that bad?

Of course, in the grand scheme of things, none of that matters. I have my daughter, a job, and now my very first place, all on my own.

Checks and balances—my scales are all even. For the first time in my life, no one owns me.
For the first time in my adult life, I can say with confidence I owe no one.

It feels good.