Return of the Bad Boy (27 page)

Smith takes my hand and leads me into the office, closing the door behind him. We sit on the beat-up couch in the corner of the room. “Look. Outlaws is having…problems. We’re a rough bar with a bad clientele, and not only that, we’re not making enough money to sustain our business for much longer. The police are trying to strong-arm us into closing, and people are coming in attempting to buy the bar. Probably to knock it down.” He’s even-toned as he tells me all of this.

But I remember our talks about his dad. How much he misses the man. This bar is a connection to his father. Of course he wants to keep it.

My heart bleeds for Smith’s struggle. He has to feel like the world is against him, given all the shit he’s going through. Yet here he is, trying to help me, putting himself in a situation to get harassed by the very people who are supposed to protect us.

I reach over and cup his face with both hands, drawing him to me and kissing him. I want to help this man any way I can. I want him to know what it feels like to be supported. He’s spent so long being the backbone of his family. He needs someone to nurture him, too.

Smith’s mouth opens and I tentatively slip my tongue inside. He groans, and the kiss deepens when he tilts his head, takes control. His hands reach down to my hips and he tugs me onto his lap.

I can feel him already starting to get hard. God, can I ever get enough of this man? He makes me feel everything so vividly. Not just in bed, but outside of it. My pulse throbs in my body, and I feel my skin growing hot.

We kiss for what feels like forever, our bodies pressed hard together, our hands roaming each other, just pouring everything out. Everything I’m feeling is bubbling right to the surface, and I want to drop my final walls and tell him how much he means to me. How I’m falling in love with him, despite my efforts to keep my heart protected.

I wasn’t planning for this to happen, but it’s here. I can’t fight it, pretend this isn’t what is happening to me.

When he pulls away, panting, I take a moment to breathe and collect myself. This isn’t the time to be spilling the beans on my feelings, I know. But God, I want to, if only to get this gigantic feeling out of me and out there. Some kind of weird self-torture, I guess. I don’t have a clue how he’d respond.

Smith’s eyes are dark and hooded. “Damn if kissing you doesn’t make me forget just about everything.”

“Well, don’t forget how to pour beer,” I tell him sassily, trying to get myself back under control. “We’re going to save your bar. No one is going to buy Outlaws. We’ll keep it in business, in Beckett hands, and help it thrive.”

“Ah, so here’s where you pull out your checkbook and leave a massive donation to the cause,” he retorts in a dry tone.

“No, smartass. Here’s where we brainstorm ideas to keep the business afloat until we can turn things around. Get you a better clientele. Freshen things up. Not make this place feel so…”

Smith quirks a brow, waiting to hear what I’m going to say.

“So…in need of a makeover,” I finish as gently as I can.

He gives a chuckle, and his face lightens. “You’re upbeat, I’ll give you that. It’s surprising in the face of everything you’re dealing with right now.”

“Easier to look at what’s on your plate than on mine,” I point out. “I have no idea what to do about my situation.” My lightness dampens a bit. Fucking Roger. Why can’t he just let me go?

I know why. It’s because I was in his control, and controlling people hate losing that. Not to mention me leaving injured his pride. Roger is pissed at me.

“Will you trust me to deal with your situation?” Smith asks me. There’s a weight in his eyes as he stares at me. I can tell there’s a lot more involved in this question. He’s asking me to trust his way of dealing with things. To trust that he isn’t like Roger, that he won’t treat me that way.

“But you already have so much to do,” I tell him quietly. “I can’t put this on your shoulders, too.”

“It would make me feel better if I could help you. I want to.” Simple words, but powerful.

“Only if you let me help you with the bar.” It’s a fair exchange. My brain is already whirring with ideas on how they can make business stronger.

He narrows his eyes.

“Take it or leave it,” I reply. “Those are my terms.”

A dimple pops up in his cheek as he gives me a crooked grin. “You’re quite a handful, aren’t you, Aubrey?” Smith’s chest rises and he gives a steady exhale. Something in him changes, just a bit, a small difference. The weight he carries around his eyes is gone.

“You have no idea.” I laugh. I don’t know what he’s going to do, but I have to trust that Smith will be okay and he won’t do something insane or self-injuring. I reach over and take his hands, stroke the length of his fingers. “For your bar, I was first thinking you should talk to Aunt Sylvia.”

He groans, then flips my hand over so he’s running his fingers along the creases of my palm. The gesture sends shivers skating across my skin. “She’ll rub it in about how bad the bar is doing.”

I shake my head. “No she won’t. That woman loves you, Smith. She wants to help. Let her in—trust her. I bet she can help you come up with some food specials.” He opens his mouth to protest, but I press on. “Yes, you should have meals, even something easy to make. Drunk people like to eat, and eating means they’ll linger and thus buy more drinks.”

He gives me a grudging shrug. “Yeah, I guess.”

“If I’m going to trust you, you have to trust me. My uncle owns a restaurant and he’s talked to me a little bit about how it works. I’m not an expert or anything, but he is—and he has good connections.” Connections that can help us iron out a game plan for Outlaws.

I can tell it stings Smith’s pride a bit to have to rely on strangers for assistance. He doesn’t know my uncle. But he gives me a quick nod. “I’ll talk to Jax and Asher about it,” he says. “As they keep pointing out to me, they’re part owners of the bar. They should have a say in it.” He gives a chuckle. “I have a feeling they’ll be on board with the food idea, though. Asher’s been nagging for us to do so for a while.”

I know that Smith and I are going to help each other. And together, we’ll sort all this shit out.

I
get
Aubrey settled back in upstairs, telling her I’ll be back up tonight and not to leave the apartment or answer the door for anyone. It’s obvious from the text messages that her crazy ex knows where I live, that he’s been following her. The thought makes my blood boil, and I want to choke the shit out of him.

Unfuckingbelievable, his nerve.

I have Aubrey’s cell phone in my pocket. I asked her to let me have it, and she gave it right to me. Her faith in me, her trust, makes me honored. After everything Roger has done to her, the way he’s violated her personal space, and yet she still believes that I’m not going to use access to her phone against her.

I don’t know what I’ve done to earn her trust but I’m not going to fuck that up.

Aubrey means too much to me. More than anyone else ever has.

I head back to the bar and try to focus on my job. But a plan is brewing in the back of my mind. If he won’t show himself, I’ll draw him out. And her cell phone is the best way to do that.

A guy like him is trying to provoke her into responding. It gives him control if he can get her to cave and answer him, whether it’s lashing out or defending herself. It opens the door to conversation and allows him to manipulate her. I’ve encountered more than one of this type in my life.

What he doesn’t know is that he won’t be dealing with Aubrey anymore. He’ll deal with me. I’m not letting him anywhere near her.

Jax comes over. “How’s she doing?”

“She’s okay. Not as freaked out. I told her we’d handle it.”

“Damn straight. That’s fucked up. No wonder she was upset. I bet you’re already planning how we’re going to kick his ass, aren’t you.” He laughs when he sees something in my eyes. “I knew it. You’re so easy to read. You’re totally falling for her.”

I start to protest, to deny it. But it’s true. I can’t deny it. Aubrey has totally entranced me. She’s witty, spunky, and she doesn’t take my bullshit. She gives it right back when I start getting too much attitude. But she’s also beautiful and emotional and she opens herself right up to me.

And in bed…

“Yeah, okay, I do have feelings for her.”

Jax gasps and looks up at the sky in an exaggerated fashion. When I just stare at him with my brow raised, he says, “I’m looking for the four horsemen to come galloping from heaven, because surely this is the end of times. This event was foretold in the Bible. Smith Beckett has fallen in love.”

“Don’t make me have to hurt you, little brother.”

We both grin, and he pats my shoulder. “I’m fucking happy for you, asshole. Being tied down is not for me, but hey, someone’s gotta populate the world with more of us sexy Becketts.”

“Excuse me, I’d love a beer,” some girl calls out from the far end of the bar. She waves at him and bounces, her breasts heaving up and down with every move.

“Ah, the siren’s call. I think I found tonight’s conquest.” He waggles his brows and sidles over to her, giving her his full-wattage smile.

I just laugh. Jax is the wildest out of the three of us, by far. I can’t see him getting attached to a girl or being responsible in any way. Though he is trying harder at the bar; I’ll give him credit for that.

I tug out Aubrey’s phone and pull up the texts from her ex. I feel the hot surge of anger sweep over me again, and I don’t try to swallow it down. This fucker will learn the hard way.

I quickly tap out a text to him:
Look, we have to talk. I don’t want to do this over phone.

I continue slinging drinks and washing dishes and doing whatever else I need to do, waiting for his response. It’ll come—I know that much. Just a matter of when. He’ll take the bait, no doubt.

I’m whistling as I straighten up around the bar. I’m almost joyous.

When Asher comes over to check the taps and make sure the kegs aren’t empty, I give him a small nod of thanks. He gives one back and goes to leave, but I grab his upper arm.

“Hey. Thanks for the help with Aubrey. And around here,” I tell him.

He narrows his eyes, looking at me with suspicion. Not that I blame him—given how pissed I’ve been about him being here this summer, it probably seems like something’s up. But talking with Aubrey about all the good memories we had as kids, seeing him step up without question to help Aubrey out, made me realize I need to back off a bit. The decision was already made, and he’s here. Continuing to be pissed is only injuring myself.

He finally sees that I mean what I say and gives a quick nod. “You’re welcome,” he says, then I see him smile proudly as he turns and walks away.

I head back to the office to crunch numbers, mulling over Aubrey’s suggestion in the back of my head. After this shit with her ex is dealt with, I’ll bring the idea up to Jax and Asher. Food at the bar…not a bad idea. We’ll have to keep it limited at first, of course. I don’t want us getting overwhelmed. Maybe stuff that can be prepared in bulk ahead of time—dips and shit like that.

She’s right though. Aunt Sylvia will have good ideas on what I can do.

What
we
can do.

I have to stop viewing this bar as just mine. Not only is it too much to deal with, it’s causing issues with me and my brothers. If they want a bigger role, fine. I’ll give it to them. I can make Jax start with balancing us out every night.

A wicked grin creases my face. I’m such a bastard—Jax hates doing anything with math. Too bad.

My pocket buzzes, and I instantly snap to attention. It’s the pocket with Aubrey’s phone in it. Let’s see what he has to say.

Yes, we do. You owe me an explanation. I need to know why you did this to me…

To Us…

Ah, he’s trying to play on my guilt—well, on Aubrey’s guilt. I write back,
We should meet somewhere and talk instead of doing this over the phone
.
I fire off a location at the end of the message, asking to meet tomorrow morning at six—purportedly before “my” shift at the nursing home, and send it. Aubrey’s off work tomorrow, so she’ll be safe and sound up in my bed.

Meeting up so early in the morning will likely keeps his suspicion from being aroused.

A moment later, another buzz.

I’m looking forward to hearing the TRUTH. I’ll be there.

I put the phone away. Finish my work with a smooth calm that has swept over me. First things first, get this accounting work done. Close the bar out tonight. Then, tomorrow, I’ll deal with Aubrey’s ex.

“No fucking way are you going alone,” Jax says as we finish cleaning the bar.

It was a surprisingly quiet night—no fights, no drama. Which is good, because as keyed up as I am to get this shit done and meet with Aubrey’s ex, I probably would have gotten into trouble.

Asher’s sweeping the floor while I’m restocking the booze in the bar to ensure we’re ready for tomorrow’s crowd.

“I can handle this,” I tell Jax assuredly.

He just eyes me and whips a dish towel over his shoulder. “I’m sure you can, but why would you? Besides, I’m just going to follow you anyway, so you might as well have us come.”

I shake my head. “You are stubborn as hell.”

“Got it from Dad.” He gives me his trademark smirk. “Just like you.”

“I’m helping too,” Asher says from across the room.

I consider telling them no, keeping them out of it, but decide that it’s better to have backup just in case.

We finish up on the bar then brew a pot of super-strong coffee. It gurgles as it fills the pot. Still the same coffee pot Dad used back in the day.

“How many fucking pots of coffee did Dad go through during the course of a day?” Asher asks as he pours himself a mug. He fills up two more and slides them across the bar’s surface toward us. “Seemed like he always either had a beer or a coffee in his hand.”

“That’s about right,” I say with a half smile. “I think he had coffee running through his veins.”

We remain silent and drink our coffee. I’m flooded with thoughts of Dad. Funny how he’s been on my mind a lot lately. Why is that?

“You know he’d be proud of you,” Jax says. I turn to see he’s looking at me over the top of his mug. “For how hard you’ve worked to keep this place floating. And for all the shit you dealt with otherwise.” He’s referring to himself and Asher, of course. “We’ll do the best we can to keep the bar running, but Dad never expected us to be superhuman.”

His praise is out of character, but it means a lot for just that reason. I find the usual tension I have when thinking about the bar fades a bit. We’ll sort it out somehow. I have to trust in that.

Trust. Funny how that word keeps cropping up a lot lately, too. I need to trust my brothers more, depend on them. Let them help me. I can’t carry this all on my own—they’re right about that.

And trust in Aubrey too. The way she’s trusted me. She deserves it given right back to her. Trust means not trying to control her, the way her ex did. Yes, I want her, in every fucking way I can have her, but I never want to smother her spirit or make her afraid.

Jax glances at his watch. “We have some time to kill. You assholes wanna lose a little money before we go take care of some unfinished business for Smith’s girl?”

I smirk at him. It’s been a while since I’ve raked him over the coals in poker. I move around the bar, lower three chairs at a table, and wave them over. Something about the camaraderie of us doing as regular a thing as playing cards makes me feel less alone. “Let’s do this.”

* * *

J
ust before six
, we’re sitting in Jax’s car, staring at the coffee shop. It’s still a bit on the dark side out, and the glow of the shop is the only real sign of life so far on the street. I told him to meet there because I figured Aubrey would consider it a safe and public location, and her ex would think that as well.

Now to wait.

“What does he look like?” Asher asks from the back seat.

“Like a psycho,” Jax says. Asher slugs him on the arm, and he grunts. “Stop fucking punching me. You suck.”

I laugh. “Knock the shit off, boys. We have a job to do.”

“He’s the one who started it,” Jax murmurs, but I hear the amusement in his voice. “Oh, look. Someone’s coming now.”

I see a man in his late twenties, clean-cut and wearing a suit, walk hesitantly toward the café door. He steps inside and moves to a table. Gotta be him.

The three of us exit the car and follow him in. No one else is in the café—Jax has had “relations” with the manager and asked her to open up the shop an hour early so we could have a business meeting there.

She didn’t ask too many questions—Jax’s girls never do.

We walk inside, and when the door dings behind us, Aubrey’s ex spins around. Sees us and his brow furrows. He gives a haughty look and offers us his back, peering over the counter. “Excuse me,” he says loudly, calling out to the empty café, peering to see where the employees are.

“Are you Roger?” I ask.

His back stiffens. I can see his gaze darting around. He’s evaluating the situation. My brothers move to either side of him.

“How about we move to the back,” I tell him in a quiet voice. “We need to talk.”

Roger’s entire body is rigid. He wants to run so badly, but we have him surrounded. He lifts his chin. “I’m not bothering anyone. Just getting coffee and waiting for a friend. You folks should be on your way back to whatever hillbilly hole you crawled out of.”

Jax gives a loud, barking laugh. “That’s fucking hilarious. Hillbilly hole. This guy’s witty! I can definitely tell what Aubrey saw in him.”

At the mention of her name, her visibly startles. Studies us closer. When his gaze locks on me, I see fury unleashed in his eyes. He recognizes me.

“Oh, good. You know who I am. That saves me the trouble of having to introduce myself.” My voice is ice. My fists are clenched at my side. “Get your fucking ass in the back room or I’ll pick you up and carry you there myself.”

“And why would I want to go back there with you?” He’s trying to sound brave, but I hear a thin hint of fear in his voice.

I step closer to him, look at the face of the man who’s petrified the woman I’ve fallen for. Who’s made her life hell to the point where she had to move away from him to escape his abuse. All the rage I feel rushes to the surface. “Because we’re going to talk.”

“Fuck you,” he spits at me.

I punch him right on the nose. He gasps and holds it as blood gushes out, spattering on the floor. “Fine with me. I’d rather fight anyway. Ready to go?”

My brothers cross their arms and stand there to make sure he doesn’t try to run off.

Roger holds his nose with one hand and raises his other in the air. “Fuck. Fuck. I think you broke it. I’m going to call my lawyer.”

I grip his hair so tight it makes him cry out, and I force him to walk behind the bar then drop to his knees. Jax moves over to flip the Open sign to Closed, his back to the door.

Roger stares up at me, blood streaming down his face in thick gushes, eyes watering.

“You aren’t calling anyone,” I tell him. “If you even think of doing so, I’ll fucking wreck you so hard you won’t be able to move, much less dial a number. Any man who would hurt a woman to try to control her is a fucking dog and deserves to be put down.” I squeeze his scalp tighter, and he whimpers. “You are never to contact Aubrey again in any format. You will never contact her family or friends again. You will go home quietly, and you will stay the fuck away from Rock Bridge for the rest of your life. And if you call anyone about what happened here today, I will find you, and I will fucking kill you.”