Lie to Me (13 page)

“Daddy, you here?” Miles’ childish voice called out.

Damian, wet and butt naked, stood up and headed toward the bathroom, his tall body graceful and perfect. “Time to get a towel,” he mumbled in a low voice.

Casey ran after him. “I’ll dry you off.” She grinned.

“Daddy! Come now! Pleeease!” Miles shouted louder.

Damian halted and glanced over his shoulder at her, causing her to sigh. She marveled at the way the muscles in his back contracted in such a smooth, well-orchestrated way. He flashed a devastating grin, and then turned to face her. Putting his hands on her shoulders, both of them completely naked, he bent to whisper in her ear. “Let me think my way out of this.”

“Daddy! Come now!” Miles repeated, sounding more anxious.

He let go of Casey’s searing flesh and spoke in a loud voice, so that Miles could hear him. “I’m shaving! Yeah, I’m shaving! I’ll finish and come visit you!”

“Shaving?” Casey covered her mouth and giggled.

He gave her a sheepish grin and shrugged. “I couldn’t think of anything else.” He turned and headed toward the bathroom and she followed.

When Damian entered the bathroom, he faced her, a towering force with the brightest turquoise eyes she’d ever seen. His lashes lowered a bit and he gave her that “I’m hungry for you” look that tore her up inside.

Casey grabbed a towel from a rack and motioned for him to bend down so she could start drying his hair. He put his hands on his knees and muttered with good nature, “Kids!”

“Our kid.”

He lifted his head and stared at her with deep affection; the bond of a parent with his mate. “Yes,” he said, and he kissed her.

It didn’t get much better than this. She had to do something…

“Daddy!”

Damian quickly dressed and, as she watched him leave the room, she had ideas that she shouldn’t even consider.

Chapter Eight

Wisconsin had to be hell.
Cold, cloudy, bitchy people. Ack. How could anybody live here?
She approached the desk clerk, checked in, and then strolled quickly down the hallway to her room. As soon as she swung the door open, she saw a mirror over the bureau. It was time to do her ritual. She hadn’t checked herself for a few hours.

She unclothed, leaving everything on a heap on the floor and then, frightened, legs shaking checked herself out in the mirror. As she saw her huge body, stretching almost from one end of the mirror to the other, she felt her eyes mist. No matter how little she ate or how many laxatives she took, or how many times she stuck her finger down her throat, nothing worked. She was fat. Huge. No wonder she could never keep a man. Turning away from herself, she half-heartedly picked her clothes off the floor and put them on.

Fat, fat, fat.
At least one hundred twenty-five pounds, and thirty or forty pounds more than a woman five foot tall should weigh. Her father had made her strip for him and walk back and forth. Even when she’d only weighed ninty-five pounds, he’d narrowed his eyes and said, “No man will want you. You’re too fat. Better stick with me. Daddy loves you.” To get her mind off it, she found the cell phone she’d placed on a counter and pressed some numbers.

A male voice came on the line. “It’s me,” she said as soon as he picked up, even before he said, “hello.”

“What’s up?”

“Be sure to write a note letting them know it’s a mill issue that will affect all the Ballantines.”

“A note?”

“Yes. On a computer. Don’t
write
it in your hand.” She shut her eyes. She’d been assured these men were capable.

“No problem.”

“Good. The letter is important.”

“Sure. They certainly won’t be shocked.”

“No. The townspeople are fuming.”

There was a brief pause, and then he asked, “Still not going to tell me who you are or who your boss is? The head of a group of mill workers?”

“You don’t have to know that.” Her voice was sharp. “The money was sent; you got it. Now do your job and don’t ask any questions.”

“Will do. Can I go now? One of the other guys is calling me.”

“Let me know as soon as anything happens. And it had better happen.”

She hung up and felt a little better. Even her girth didn’t seem that important right then. What mattered now was giving the Ballantines one scare after another until she saw results. She smiled, certain that it wouldn’t take too long.

Damian had gotten out of his car in the hotel parking lot and now ducked his head. Rain pelted down on him, hitting his leather jacket in dull thuds.
How could it rain on such a wonderful night?
He put his hands in his jacket pockets and started whistling. An older couple passed him and smiled. If they knew he was Damian Ballantine, the son of the hated Michael, they didn’t seem to mind.

Damian flashed them a grin and moved on, stepping over a concrete stoop and almost crashing into a large man wearing a blue baseball cap backwards, sunglasses at night, and an oversized navy t-shirt over baggy jeans. The guy’s attire spoke of bad news.

“Sorry,” Damian mumbled roughly, although he wondered why the man hadn’t moved away as he’d seen him coming. Hell, his head had been bowed and this idiot—

This idiot looked familiar.

Damian’s heart leaped to his throat as he ripped off the other man’s sunglasses.

Alex smiled, a big shit-eating grin crossing his face. He grabbed the sunglasses and stuck them in the back pocket of his jeans.

Damian barely recognized him. He’d cut his shoulder-length dark blond hair and now wore it close cropped. He had a damned diamond earring in one ear.
That figured!
Damian lifted the cap off his head and his eyes widened as he saw short, spiked hair.

“Stick your finger in an electrical socket?” he finally asked, his insides racing.

“Hey, bro, you look terrific!” Alex hugged him tight.

If Damian’s meeting with his father had choked him up, this caused his eyes to tear. Alex had always been his biggest supporter and best friend in the world.

When Alex let him go, Damian stepped back to observe his fraternal twin brother. He had lighter coloring than him and gray eyes, like Michael.

“So you pierced your ear?”

“Does that surprise you?”

“From an artist who also does part-time pro wrestling? No! Come on upstairs.” He slapped Alex on the back. On impulse he reached over and gave him an affectionate hug. “Damn good to see you.”

“Same here.”

Damian sat on the edge of the bed and Alex chose a recliner, his hiking boots propped on its matching ottoman. Damian tried not to grin. Alex was still Alex—his t-shirt sporting a band’s wild logo and his jeans ripped slightly in one knee. Both men worked on bottles of cola that Damian had bought from a vending machine in the hallway.

“It’s bad with the mill,” Alex said, shaking his head. “Dad’s laid off three hundred workers and there are rumors of more. I’m sorry people are taking it out on Miles.”

Damian frowned as he grabbed his bottle of soda. After a long drink, he said, “Three hundred in a town of eight thousand is devastating.”

Alex nodded.

Damian thought about the days his father had been grooming him to take over the mill. The days before his drinking had overtaken all of him. “Alex, Dad used to like me, remember?”

“You were the obvious favorite.”

Quickly, Damian told him about seeing him that morning. Alex listened, nodding, not looking surprised. “I could tell it was eating him up.”

“Maybe I still have some influence over him. Sam’s had his ear for so long.”

Alex carefully set his bottle on a table beside him. “Sam’s ruthless about business. It would be good if you could get Dad to listen to you. Let’s face it, Dad has millions. He doesn’t need to replace people with machines.”

“Dad can be pretty cold.” Damian thought of all those years he’d been in exile.

“True.” Alex tapped his fingers on the table. “Sam can be worse. Old boy, you’re going to have to take over the mill one day, even if you don’t want to, or Sam will destroy this town.”

“I don’t want the headache of the mill, Brother. One good thing about getting away from here is I got a perspective on things. I like my small business, but the responsibility of a whole town is another story.”

“You could balance out Sam. You’d do a good job.”

He shook his head, firmly. “I’m not interested.”

“That’s your choice, of course.” Alex stared at him.

Damian felt Alex judging him, although his brother didn’t say anything. “Look, Dev, I don’t even want to live here.” He knew he sounded defensive.

“Well, I’d rather have you back here. I miss you.”

Damian softened. “There are planes.”

“Not good enough.”

“You can move down to Alabama.”

“This is my home. It’s your home too.”

“Home sweet home.”

“You can make it that way,” Alex said.

Damian snickered. “Sam would have a heart attack if I decided to stay.”

Alex frowned. “He’s so angry you’re here—more in fighting mode than normal.” He waved a dismissive hand. “
I
want you to stay.”

“I can’t.” He eyed Alex, who looked attentive. “There’s still a lot going on between me and Casey. Not a good thing.”

Alex smirked. “I knew she still loved you. From the look on your face, you still love her too.”

Damian shrugged, his heart speeding up a little. “It doesn’t matter. I need to put distance between us.”

“If you really go, and Sam and Dad run the mill together, there’ll be a strike, Damian. People could get hurt. You know Sam. He’ll talk Dad into hiring scabs and the town will go to hell.”

Damian broke into profanity. “I hadn’t heard that they’re threatening to strike. Shit.”

“If there are more layoffs and no salary increases, yes.”

Damian slammed a fist into his palm. “Great. Why is Dad so damn stubborn?”

“That’s really it. He doesn’t like others telling him what to do. And Sam just eggs him on.”

“Yeah.”

“Consider sticking around.”

“In some ways, I wish I could.” He’d miss Alex. “I can’t stay. I’ll talk to Dad before I go though.”

“It won’t hold up if you leave,” Alex said, leaning his chair back. “I don’t know how you can leave Miles again. He was miserable without you.”

“He’ll be worse off if I stay. I could relapse.”

Alex took another drink of soda, and then set the can down again. “So you’ll ruin your own life and Casey’s because you may relapse? Maybe you won’t.”

Damian shrugged. He struggled with this inner conflict daily and didn’t want to bring it out in the open. “I won’t take that chance.”

Alex’s expression softened. “Whatever. I don’t want this to turn into an argument. We haven’t seen one another for so long.”

 “Too long.” Damian smiled at his goofy brother.

“Play cards?”

“Just the two of us?”

Alex pulled a deck out from his back pocket.

Damian was so glad to be with his twin again. “Sure,” he said. “Why not?”

Four hours later, Alex left. Damian watched him from his window and smiled. His brother, with the backwards hat, and friendly smile always made things better. He lived a few blocks away in a modest condo. Unlike the other Ballentines, he scorned materialism and rebelled against it. Sometimes Damian worried that he walked around town in the dark by himself. He did have a car, even if it was ten years old and rattled as if it would fall apart any moment. He chuckled to himself as he turned from the window. Alex, a pro-wrestler and six foot four could certainly take care of himself.