Page 23 of Someone to Call My Own
Iwasn’t cut out to manage people. I easily killed enemies of the United States of America without blinking, but settling a dispute between two pissy bartenders, who were fighting each other over a club patron, was not my area of expertise. It would’ve been easier to take them out and make it look like an accident, but that wasn’t my life anymore. Besides, they weren’t an enemy to me or my country, and I drew the line at killing people just because they got on my nerves. I wasn’t a psychopath for fuck’s sake!
Two fucking days later, I could still hear those two dumbasses bickering in my office like two little kids while Michelle and I looked on.
“You’re just jealous because he gavemehis phone number and notyou,” Tyler had said to Jamar.
Jamar looked down at his nails as if the entire conversation was boring him. “I’ve had his phone number for a few weeks, jackass.” Jamar rolled his eyes dramatically. “You know what? You can have him because I don’t want a guy who has such pitiful taste in men.”
Tyler put his hands on his hips and cocked his head to the side. “Oh yeah, Jamar? I seem to recall that you liked how I tasted just fine. What happened to, ‘Oh, baby, you’re the best I’ve ever had’? I believe those words slid out of your mouth right after my cock did.”
“That was last week,” Jamar said with a casual shrug.
“Then why don’t you want me calling Brandon? Are you jealous?” Tyler demanded.
“Of you?” Jamar sounded like it was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard, but I wondered if Tyler might be right. Then I questioned why the fuck I even cared.
“That’s enough!” I yelled before Tyler could answer. Both men jumped a little and stiffened at the harsh tone I used. “I can’t believe I got called in here for someKnots Landingbullshit.” I could tell by their confused expression that they’d never heard of the show. I only knew because it had been my mother’s favorite. “Never mind,” I groused. “You two work out your problemsafteryour shift is over. I don’t want to see you bring your personal shit in here again? Do you hear me?”
The two men glared at one another briefly before they responded to my question. “Yes, sir,” they said at the same time.
“For what it’s worth, I’m not sure how any of you had time to notice the patrons when you’re so busy eye fucking one another. Sort. It. Out. Fuck. It. Out. Just do itawayfrom the club.”
Their faces flushed pink with embarrassment, but I noticed they dropped their pretenses when they looked at one another again.
“Do you want to come over after work?” Jamar asked Tyler.
“I’d love that, J.”
“There you go,” I said encouragingly. “Now get the fuck out of my office.”
They left without another word. I saw Tyler pull Jamar to him for a quick kiss in the hallway before the door shut. I returned home after the argument was solved.Home?It was Nate’s home, but it never felt like mine. It was too modern and wasn’t a good fit for me, but selling the house seemed wrong.
Nagging thoughts of Emory didn’t do anything to alleviate my discontent with my surroundings and new career as a club owner. I couldn’t get his haunted green eyes out of my mind. I felt like I was losing my freaking mind in the days that followed Easter Sunday. I kept as busy as I could by staying on top of things at the club and monitoring the sales and income data. So far, the thief hadn’t struck again. I had a feeling that he or she would wait until they thought I’d lost interest before they started siphoning money and liquor from my club again. If so, they didn’t know jack about me.
By mid-week, I was ready to climb the ceiling. I was minutes away from making arrangements for a long weekend in New Orleans to see if I could find my center again, but that didn’t feel right to me either. I hated the hold that Emory unknowingly had on me. It felt like he had my cock in a cage and had the only key. I wasn’t used to being on anyone’s leash, and I hated it with a fucking passion.
“Fuck it,” I snarled after running five miles on the treadmill. I headed into the home office to retrieve my phone to make the arrangements and saw that I missed a call from Gabe. He left a brief message and asked me to call him at my earliest convenience. There was a lightness to his tone that I’d only heard when he spoke to, or about, his boyfriend. He sounded happy. Did that mean he had a break in Nate’s case?
“What’s up, Gabe?” I asked when he answered the phone. I figured we were on a first name basis after our little holiday dinner together.
“I made an arrest in your brother’s case, Silver.” Okay, maybe he wasn’t quite ready to be best buds, but I was willing to overlook it in light of his announcement. “I can’t give you any details right now, but I’m certain I’ve got the right man. I’ll share more with you when I can.”
I dropped in the nearest chair as all the air whooshed out of my lungs in relief. Damn, I worried that the day might never come when I heard those words. “Thank you, Gabe. This means so much to me.”
“You’re welcome, Silver.” I expected him to hang up right away, but he surprised me. “We host a dinner every Sunday for our friends. There’s always more than enough food, and you’re welcome to join us anytime.”
“I don’t know how to respond to that,” I said honestly. Was I the kind of man who gathered with friends every Sunday for dinner and chatting about the things going on in our lives? I didn’t use to be that kind of man, but could I be?
“You don’t have to respond,” Gabe said casually. “Just know that our door is always open.”
“Thank you.”
“Take care, Silver.”
I sat there for several long moments after we hung up. I didn’t care that I was getting my sweat all over the leather sofa in my home office. I cared about the fact that Nate was going to get his justice after all. I was curious as hell to know who was arrested and the kind of evidence the cops had, but I knew Gabe would tell me as soon as he could. I hoped like hell that Rick’s name would get cleared in the process.
It took a few more days for the information to cycle around. Attorney Rylan Broadman from Goodville, which was a neighboring community to Blissville, was arrested for the murders of Nate, Owen Smithson, Lawrence Robertson, and Rick Spizer. Broadman had been Robertson’s attorney at the time the casino consortium tried to buy the farmer’s land to build a casino. The local county commissioners shot the casino down, so the wealthy consortium CEO pulled strings to get the issue on a statewide ballot. The initiative failed, the casino was never built, and that appeared to be the last of it until Rick pitched the idea to my brother.
That one conversation most likely led to all of the deaths. Was that why Rick said he was responsible? He didn’t physically kill anyone, but did he feel those deaths on his conscience just the same? The police released frustratingly few details in the early days, but I knew they didn’t want to risk fucking up a trial. That, or they still only had pieces of the puzzle—enough to arrest him, but maybe not enough to get a conviction. As much as it pained me, I knew I’d have to wait it out.