Morrison (Caldwell Brothers #2) (6 page)

I shake my head, trying to erase him as I gather my things and slip out of his room.

It’s still early morning, when most people are sleeping, but it’s hours past the end of my shift as I make my way to the parking lot. The tingle on my neck causes me to look around like someone is watching me.

Scanning the area, I
don’t see anyone at first glance, but as I insert the key into the door of my car, I see Marshall. Someone was watching me, indeed—my ex’s right-hand man.

Certainly, he’s not here for me. No way. Marshall doesn’t shy away from confrontation, and as much as he may like me in general, he won’t push Monte when it comes down to it.

Ever.

He must be here for someone else.

That is my last thought
as I get into my car and head home, sated, satisfied, and for the first time in my entire life, somehow okay.

I feel the tingle on the back of my neck again as I laugh to myself. “I’m okay until the bottom falls out, and in the end, the bottom will fall out.” I mutter the words to no one as I pull in at Jamie’s and park my car.

If only I had a crystal ball to show me the future…Although, I guess
I should be careful what I wish for. I once heard someone say, “If you speak it, you give life to it.”

I drop Marisa off at school with dread settling into the pit of my stomach. Quickly, I make my way to the casino to pick up my paycheck, aware I need to get to the bank and deposit the funds so the check I just wrote for her tuition doesn’t bounce.

I sign the paper at the office for receiving
my check, and I’m just outside the door when my cheap-ass, prepaid cellphone rings. The number looks familiar, though not one I recognize as an emergency call, like Jamie or Marisa’s school. With the push of a button, the call connects.

“Hello,” I answer nonchalantly.

“Hailey.” His voice is gravelly and distinctive, and the fact that he is merely saying my name is a death sentence. “It’s Marshall.
Gotta tell you, Monte knows about your tryst with Aces. This is not a good thing for you, or for Ris Priss. Gotta have a payment.”

Without a second thought, without hesitation, I bolt to the parking lot. Marshall called and threatened Marisa, and I know what this means. I have lived the life long enough to know I have to get to my daughter now. Tears run freely down my face, but I don’t give
a fuck.

Someone grabs me. I think it’s Morrison Caldwell, but I don’t have time for him right now. I jerk free and continue out of the casino. I have to get to Marisa.

Right. The. Fuck. Now.

I watch as she basically runs out the door. It’s not my style to chase after ass, but then again, I have never had ass so fine in my life. This chick gives as good as she gets, too.

They say gambling is an addiction, but I assure you it’s not. I can walk away from the table anytime I want. That platinum pussy, however…Hailey, she’s addictive. She’s crack on steroids. She has
me renting a room in this casino when I own a fucking place, just so I can make sure I’m tappin’ that ass again, tasting that pussy again, devouring her mouth
again
. I’m a platinum junkie.

Before I can convince myself it’s a bad idea, I am out the door and running to my car. I catch her taking a left out of my peripheral vision. I also see her wipe her eyes, and I immediately feel sick. I don’t
know if I’m sick because she’s crying, thinking maybe it’s about me; if I’m sick because she’s upset, and I wanna know why; or if I’m sick because I wanna know who has her so fucking emotional that she is running after him.

As a result, I do what any man who has been plugged into platinum would do—I follow at a close distance.

“I must be out of my damn mind,” I say to myself as I count, finding
I am three cars behind her.

Three is a good number.

My phone rings, and I hit the answer button on my steering wheel. “This is Morrison.”

“No shit.” Jagger laughs, the sound flowing through my stereo speakers.

“Sorry, man. I, um…” She swerves between two cars and moves into the right lane. I check my mirror, only to see I can’t get over. “Fuck!”

“Is that so?”

“Shit, man, sorry. I forgot
you were there.”

“Damn, man, are you already drunk? It’s early.”

“No, I’m…uh…I’m…” I lay on my horn as I inch into the right lane, and some asshole in a jacked-up pickup nearly clips me. “Watch it, motherfucker!”

“You okay?”

I swerve behind the jacked-up Dodge and nearly get hit in the ass, but I’m in the right lane.

Horns blare behind me, and I want to flip the asshole off; instead, I lean
out the window and look back at him. “Did you see me signal, asshole?”

“What in the fuck has gotten into you?” Jagger chuckles.

“Nothing, man. I’m just…busy right now.” I see her turn right, and the fucking light turns red. I look at the Dodge in front of me, ready to drive over his ass, and then I catch a glimpse of the silver balls swinging from the tow hitch. “You have got to be fucking kidding
me.”

“Hey, brother, you in trouble?” Jagger asks.

“No trouble. No.” I punch the steering wheel out of frustration.

“What the hell is going on? Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not fucking okay! I’m gonna lose—” I stop when I realize I am about to admit to my little brother that I am literally chasing ass.

“Lose what? A game, a bet?”

“Yeah. No.” I hit the wheel again. “It’s complicated.”

“Uh-huh.
I see.”

“Good.” The right-lane light is green, and no one is moving. I lay on the horn. “Come on, you ball-swinging motherfucker!”

“Bro, what the fuck is your problem?” I can tell by the tone of his voice he is seriously concerned.

We’re moving now, thank God.

“Road rage, man. I need to chill out, but dumb asses that sit at green lights piss me off.”

The light is yellow, and I am one car
behind the intersection. Silver Balls slows down, and I lay on the horn. He flips me off, then punches the gas. His silver balls fly in the air. I punch it and make it through as the light turns red.

“Fuck yeah, bitches!” I yell out my victory.

“Seriously need to chill, man.”

“Just celebrating the small stuff.”

“So, when you coming home?”

“When I have the bankroll I need,” I say, swerving
left to try to locate Hailey’s car. I spot it two lights ahead. She’s heading out of the city. I’ll be able to catch up.

“You ahead?”

“Yeah, sure am. You need some cash?”

“Nah, I have a fight in two weeks. I’ll be good.”

There isn’t a hell of a lot of confidence in his voice. “You sure, man?”

“I’m good, Morrison.”

“Don’t bullshit me. If you need something, let me know.”

I slam on my brakes,
stopping right at a red light. “Fuck!”

Jagger laughs. “Traffic again?”

“Fucking red lights. Total bullshit.”

I grab my phone and hit my online banking app. I transfer two grand into his account. “Just sent you some cash. If you don’t need it”—I pause as I look up and see the light is green, punch the gas, and lay a little rubber—“then put it back after the fight. You’ll have it if something
comes up.”

“Unnecessary, man.” Jagger sighs.

“That’s what brothers are for. Look—” I hit the brakes when Ball Sack’s nuts fly again. “Tool,” I hiss.

“Excuse me?” Jagger laughs.

“Look, I’ll catch up with you. I wanna snap a pic of this asshole’s truck and send it to ya. I’ll get with ya soon.”

“Sweet. Thanks, man.”

“Like I said, that’s what brothers are for.”

I grab my phone and take a pic,
then send a message.

For men who ain’t got enough of their own, there is now help. Big trucks and fake balls can help give you back your confidence. WTF!

I push send as the light turns green.

I follow her for ten minutes until we are in a small, upscale community. But the girl I’ve been playing with isn’t upscale. She doesn’t seem like someone who looks down on people. She seems fucking authentic.

I try to turn off the crazy scenarios I have playing in my head, ’cause I am logical. I’m calculating. I am not one to let myself get wrapped up in emotions. I want facts, and I wanna see with my own eyes, so I continue to follow.

Two minutes later, I am on a side street in an honest-to-God fucking school zone. Now I have some really crazy shit rolling in my head. I watch as she pulls over and
jumps out of the car. Then she runs inside this preschool while I wait.

When she comes out five minutes later, she is laughing and smiling at this little kid she has in her arms. The kid is dressed in a little pink romper with a matching bow in her hair and pint-sized Chuck Taylors. This kid is about the show. Well, her parents are, anyway, and the girl I’ve been borderline obsessing over isn’t
show. Hailey is all tell.

I take in a deep breath, my mind calming the fuck down. I allow myself to rationalize this situation, and pretty much figure out that Hailey has a day job as a nanny or something. This makes me laugh, because I was right: Although her body is all soft skin and sexy, sharp curves, her exterior, her show is not. But hot damn, when I am in her, on her, touching her, I can
read that tell, and she is not as hard and rough around the edges as she thinks she needs to be.

I pull out after she is two blocks ahead and follow. I should turn around. She isn’t crying anymore; she’s smiling. She wasn’t going to some man; she was picking up someone’s kid. I should chalk this up as a stupid-ass move and turn around. But I don’t.

Two miles away, she pulls up in front of an
apartment complex in not the best part of town. She carries the kid inside, and then I see another chick pull up. She gets out of her car and runs to the door Hailey went in.

I sit and wait.

Ten minutes later, Hailey is carrying boxes out the door and throwing them in the back of her ride before she runs back in. As she comes out this time, she has boxes piled up in her arms, and I know damn
well she can’t see. When she trips and falls, the boxes spill out all over the sidewalk. She covers her face with her hands and pulls her knees up to her chest, her body shaking.

Instinct can be a lifesaver. It can also get you killed. Like the poor bastard who leaps in front of a car to push someone out of the way and gets nailed. Like the guy who jumps in front of a drug-crazed lunatic with
a gun and thinks he’s gonna save everyone in the store by taking the man down, only to end up dead. Like the mom who feels her kids are being threatened and puts herself between them and what she considers a danger and gets her ass beat down by some sick fuck. And like right now, as I am kneeling beside Hailey, pulling her into my arms because instinct kicked in and I didn’t wanna see her hurt.

She pushes me away and wipes at her face, trying to erase the evidence that her tell is out there for the whole world to see. While she gasps for words, I turn away and start picking up all the clothes spilled on the sidewalk.

Finally, she stops trying to talk and starts frantically shoving things in boxes, too. I pick up the first box and load it into her car, and then the second. I turn to
grab the third, but she is on my heels, pushing past me.

“Mommy?” I hear from behind.

I look at the little girl she had in her arms earlier, and Hailey takes a deep breath and avoids my gaze.

“Almost ready, Marisa.” Her voice is soft and so full of love I am almost floored.

“For our adventure?” the little girl says.

“Yep.” She turns back and looks at me. “Thanks.”

When she starts to walk
away, I grab her arm, stopping her.

“Hey, Marisa, we forgot one thing. Come help me get it?” the other female says to the little girl.

“Yep. Be right back, Mommy.”

“I’ll be right here, Ris. Just hurry up. We don’t want to be late.”

When the door shuts behind her daughter—her fucking
daughter
—my hands start to shake. “Something you need to tell me?”

“I don’t owe you—”

“Enough of the ‘owe
me’ shit, Hailey. I’ve never asked for a damn thing, but right now, I’m gonna, and you’re gonna give it to me.”

“Is that so?” The edge has returned to her voice.

“Are you married?”

She looks confused.

“Did you sneak out of my hotel room this morning to go hop in your husband’s bed? Is that why—”

“Legally, yes, but that is none of your business.”

“It sure as fuck
is
my business.” I am pissed,
and I don’t do pissed.

“I don’t have time for alpha attitude or a man standing in front of me making demands. If my little girl wasn’t gonna be walking back out that door any minute, I would use language you’ve probably never even heard. But because I have to be mother, father, and protector of that little girl, I will give you an answer. Then you’re gonna get in that shiny little car of yours
and drive the hell away, because, as nice as things have been, Slick, you are not my reality.

“Yes, I have a husband. We are separated, and he is not a good man; hell, he doesn’t even pretend to be. He would sell his own child if he thought he could get away with it.

“I’m not gonna sugarcoat this. He thinks I owe him, and hell, maybe I do. I thought I had more time, and I did, until he heard
I spent the night with ‘
Aces
.’ Now he’s calling in my debt, and that little girl—
my
little girl—is what he will take if I don’t give it to him. So excuse me if I didn’t stop to chat earlier, but I have more important things to deal with.

“Now, if you would kindly leave—and don’t look back, Slick, ’cause there is nothing sexy, shiny, or pretty for you to look at anymore.”

“How much do you owe
him?”

“That’s none of your business or your concern.”

“I had a part in creating this situation, so let me help you out.”

“No! Never again will I let a man think I owe him.”

At this moment, I realize why she is the way she is, why she will never take more than she gives. At this moment, I know damn well I can’t just walk away. It’s not just my unexplainable draw to Hailey—now there’s a kid
involved. I was that kid once, and no one offered to help.

Momma didn’t raise us to walk away.

“I wanna help.”

“I don’t need your help.” Her attention moves to the walkway her friend is rushing down.

“Hailey, just got a call, and Monte is on his way. You need to—” her friend begins, and I snap to full attention.

“Monte Timmons?” I ask. They both look at me, and I shake my head, realizing
the ruthless bastard she’s tied to. “I’m not asking for anything in return. Just take this as a little good in a world of bad.” I turn around and see the little girl. “Hey, beautiful, you ever ride in a Porsche?”

“I don’t think—”

“Jesus, Hailey, just let him help you get out of here. Go!” her friend encourages.

“You get this little girl into my car,” I tell her friend.

Before her friend can
argue, I look at Hailey. “Follow me.”

She looks lost, scared, and so vulnerable, but she nods her head, and I sprint to my car and get in.

“You like to go fast or slow?” I ask Hailey’s daughter.

“Slow?” She giggles and smiles in the way of a little girl who has no idea of the danger she is in.

“Okay. Since this is our first date, I’ll let you call the shots. Don’t get used to it, though, kiddo.”

I pull out onto the road and look in the rearview. This time,
Hailey
is following
me
.

vk.com/newreleasebooks