A Twist of Lemon

33. Ezra

Chapter 33

Ezra

F uck, my nose hurts like a bitch. Blood's dripping down my face, staining my favorite shirt. Lawson's got one hell of a hard head. I gotta admit, I'm impressed. And maybe a little turned on. There's something about a man who can throw a punch that just gets me going.

I'm ready to give as good as I got. My fists are clenched, body coiled tightly. I can take this asshole. Yeah, he's Lemon's dad, but right now, he's just another threat. And I've dealt with plenty of those in my time.

But before I can make a move, Atticus' voice cuts through the chaos. It's quiet, barely above a whisper, but it might as well be a gunshot for how quickly it silences the room.

"We aren't fucking doing this here," he says, his words clipped and precise. "And definitely not in front of Lemon." His eyes, cold as ice, sweep over us. "In my fucking office. Now."

There's no room for argument in his tone. Even Lawson, still seething with rage, seems to deflate a little.

I glance at Lemon as we file toward Atticus' office. She's pale, eyes wide and glassy with tears. I want to go to her, to pull her into my arms and tell her it'll be okay. But I can't. Not now. Maybe not ever again, if this goes south.

The office door closes behind us with a soft click.

Lawson paces like a caged animal, his eyes never leaving Atticus. I lean against the wall, trying to stem the flow of blood from my nose with my ruined shirt. Atticus looks as composed as ever, despite the bruise blooming on his jaw.

"Explain," Lawson growls, coming to a stop in front of Atticus' massive desk. "Now."

Atticus sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's complicated, Lawson."

"Complicated?" Lawson's voice rises, echoing off the walls. "You're fucking my daughter! Both of you! What's complicated about that?"

I can't help but smirk, despite the pain in my face. "Well, when you put it like that..."

Lawson whirls on me, eyes blazing. "You think this is funny, you piece of shit?"

"Ezra," Atticus warns, his voice low and dangerous. I shut my mouth, but I can't quite wipe the grin off my face. What can I say? I've always had a problem with authority.

I watch as Atticus leans back in his chair, fingers steepled under his chin. He's got that look in his eyes, the one that means he's about to lay down the law. I've seen it a hundred times before, but never quite like this.

"Yes, Lawson," he says, his voice steady and cold as a frozen river. "Ezra and I are sexually involved with Lemon. And before you start throwing punches again, let me remind you that she is a grown woman, capable of making her own decisions. "

Lawson's face contorts, a mix of rage and disgust that makes him look like he's about to hurl. "She's twenty-two, for fuck's sake!" he roars, slamming his fist on the desk. The heavy wood doesn't even shudder. Leave it to Atticus to have furniture as immovable as he is. "You're supposed to be my best friend, Atticus. And you," he turns to me, eyes blazing, "you're just a fucking kid yourself. What the hell were you thinking?"

I open my mouth to retort. I may be ten years younger than Atticus and Lawson, but I'm hardly a kid but Atticus silences me with a look. Right. Staying quiet. Got it.

Lawson starts pacing again, a caged tiger ready to pounce. "She's barely out of her teens," he rants, running his hands through his hair. "Christ, I remember when she was still playing with dolls. And now you two are…are..."

"Fucking her senseless?" I offer helpfully, unable to resist. The words slip out before I can stop them.

The room goes dead silent. Atticus' eyes narrow dangerously, and I know I'm in for it later. Lawson, on the other hand, looks like he's about to pop a blood vessel.

"You son of a bitch," he growls, lunging at me.

I brace myself for the impact, but Atticus is there in an instant, stepping between us. His hand presses against Lawson's chest, holding him back with seemingly no effort.

"That's enough," Atticus says, his voice low and full of authority. "Ezra, if you can't keep your mouth shut, get out."

I shut my trap, knowing I've pushed it too far. Fuck, my nose still throbs, but the pain's nothing compared to the tension between all of us. Lawson's face is a storm of emotions—rage, disgust, betrayal. It's almost fascinating to watch.

"I can't believe this shit," Lawson spits out, his voice raw with anger. "My own fucking daughter. My best friend. It's sick, Atticus. She's practically your niece, for Christ's sake!"

Atticus' jaw tightens, a muscle ticking in his cheek. I've seen that look before. He's holding back, but barely. "We're not related, Lawson," he says, his voice low and controlled. "You know that. We may have been close, but there's no blood between us."

I can't help but smirk at that. No, there's definitely something else between Atticus and Lemon. Something hot and sticky and?—.

Atticus shoots me a warning glare, like he can read my thoughts. I school my face into neutrality, but it's hard to keep the amusement out of my eyes.

"Besides," Atticus continues, turning back to Lawson, "this isn't just about sex. Ezra and I, we care for Lemon. Deeply."

I nod, surprised by the sincerity in Atticus' voice. It's true, though. Somewhere along the line, that curvy little spitfire wormed her way into my heart. Fuck if I know what to do about it, but there it is.

Lawson's not buying it, though. His face twists into a sneer. "Care for her? Is that what you call it?" He takes a menacing step forward, getting right in Atticus' face. "Tell me something, old friend. Were you 'caring' for her when she was still in high school? Huh? Were you eyeing up my teenage daughter while pretending to be my best friend?"

The accusation hangs in the air, heavy and poisonous. For a moment, I think Atticus might actually lose his cool. His eyes flash dangerously, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

But then, just like that, the mask slips back into place. Atticus straightens up, towering over Lawson. "That's enough," he says, his voice like ice. "You're upset, and I understand that. But don't you dare accuse me of something so vile. I would never?—"

"Wouldn't you?" Lawson interrupts, his voice dripping with malice. "You're fucking her now. What's the difference?"

I wince, knowing this isn't going to end well. Atticus' control is legendary, but even he has his limits. And Lawson just crossed one.

In a flash, Atticus has Lawson pinned against the wall.

"Don't you fucking insult me," Atticus growls, his face inches from Lawson's. "Especially not when you've fucked me over, spilling my secrets to others."

Lawson doesn't back down, though. His eyes are blazing, matching Atticus' intensity. "You dumb fuck," he spits out. "St. Pierre started that fucking rumor and you ate it the fuck up. You ever stop to wonder why?"

I watch as Atticus' grip on Lawson loosens, confusion flickering across his face. It's like watching a crack form in a dam—tiny at first, but you know it's only a matter of time before the whole thing comes crashing down.

"What are you talking about?" Atticus demands, his voice low and dangerous.

Lawson laughs, but it's a bitter sound. "You really don't get it, do you? St. Pierre's been gunning for your ass for years. He saw an opportunity, and he took it. Fed you that bullshit about me leaking company secrets, knowing you'd believe it because of your history."

History? What fucking history? My head's spinning, trying to keep up with all this new information. I feel like I'm watching a soap opera, but with more violence and way better-looking leads.

Atticus takes a step back, his hands falling to his sides. For the first time since I've known him, he looks lost. It's fucking unsettling.

"But the evidence..." he starts.

Lawson cuts him off with a snort. "Fabricated. All of it. Christ, Atticus, I thought you were smarter than this. You really think I'd betray you like that? After everything we've been through?"

The tension in the room shifts, morphing into something I can't quite put my finger on. It's like the air itself is holding its breath, waiting to see what happens next.

I can't help but pipe up. "Okay, I'm lost. What the fuck is going on here?"

They both turn to look at me, like they'd forgotten I was even in the room. Lawson's eyes are hard, but there's something else there too. Pain, maybe? Atticus just looks shell-shocked.

I watch as Atticus' face goes through a whole fucking rainbow of emotions. It's like watching a computer reboot, gears grinding as he processes this new information. His eyes narrow, then widen, then narrow again. I can practically see the lightbulb flickering to life above his head.

"Fuck," he breathes, running a hand through his hair. "The PI. He must've been compromised. Christ, I'm such an idiot."

Lawson barks out a laugh, but there's no humor in it. "No shit, Sherlock. Took you long enough to figure it out."

The tension in the room is so thick you could cut it with a knife. Hell, you'd need a fucking chainsaw.

Atticus takes a step toward Lawson, his hand outstretched. "Lawson, I?—"

But Lawson's not having it. He bats Atticus' hand away like it's a pesky fly. "Save it," he snarls. "I'm fucking done with you, Atticus. Done with this whole goddamn mess. Word got around before they released me. St. Pierre was found in an old hangar burnt to a crisp. No one has confirmed anything, but whispers say it was one of the fucking Blackwood boys. The bat shit crazy one."

He turns toward the door, his shoulders set in a hard line. "I'm taking my fucking daughter and getting the hell out of here. Away from you, away from this shit show."

For a second, Atticus just stands there, looking like someone just sucker-punched him in the gut. But then, like a switch being flipped, he snaps back to life. His eyes harden, his jaw clenches, and suddenly he's the Atticus I know again. The one who takes no shit and gives no fucks.

"The fuck you are," he growls. He plants himself between Lawson and the door, arms crossed over his chest. "You aren't taking Lemon anywhere."

Lawson's face goes red, then purple. I swear I can see steam coming out of his ears. "She's my daughter, you sick fuck!"

"She's a grown woman," Atticus counters, his voice low and dangerous. "And she's made her choice."

I can't help but nod in agreement. Lemon might be young, but she's got a mind of her own. And a body that’s made to cum, but that's beside the point right now.

Lawson looks like he's about to explode. His fists are clenched so tight I can see his knuckles turning white. "Her choice? You've manipulated her, corrupted her! Both of you!"

Atticus leans in, his voice low and dangerous. "I'm the one taking care of her. I have been for months. Ever since she showed up here, homeless and broke, because of whatever fucked up mess you got yourself into."

I can't help but smirk. Atticus is in rare form tonight. It's hot, if I'm being honest .

"So maybe," Atticus continues, "don't act like you're dad of the fucking year right now."

Lawson looks like he's been slapped. His mouth opens and closes, but no words come out. It's almost comical, watching this big, tough guy flounder like a fish out of water.

Finally, he seems to find his voice. "You don't know what you're talking about," he growls, but there's no heat behind it. Just desperation.

"Don't I?" Atticus counters, raising an eyebrow. "You want to explain why your daughter showed up at my doorstep in the middle of the night, crying her eyes out and carrying everything she owned in a backpack and a single suitcase?"

Lawson's face crumples, and for a second, I almost feel bad for the guy. Almost.

Without another word, Lawson turns and storms out of the office. The door slams behind him, the sound echoing through the suddenly silent room.

Atticus and I exchange a look, then we're both moving, following Lawson out into the hallway. As we hurry after him, I can't resist leaning in close to Atticus, my lips practically brushing his ear.

"You know," I whisper, my voice low and husky, "we did manipulate her. Probably best he doesn’t find out about that."

Atticus shoots me a warning glare. But fuck, who can you blame us? That girl's got a body made for sin and a mind ready to submit.

We round the corner just in time to see Lawson grab Lemon's arm, pulling her toward the exit. She's crying, her mascara running down her cheeks in black rivulets. It makes me want to punch Lawson all over again.

"Dad, stop!" she cries out, yanking her arm free. "What the hell is going on? "

"We're leaving, Lemon. Now. I won't let you stay here with these…these predators."

"Let her go," Atticus commands, his voice ringing out across the room.

Lawson turns, his face a mask of fury and pain. "Fuck you," he spits. "She's coming with me."

"Dad, I'm not leaving with you," she says, her voice shaky but determined. "You can't just drag me around and order me like I'm a little girl anymore."

Lawson's face goes slack with shock. I can't help but smirk. That's our girl, standing up to daddy dearest.

"I'm staying here, with Atticus and Ezra," Lemon continues, her voice growing stronger with each word. She takes a step back, closer to us. I can feel the heat radiating off her body, smell the sweet scent of her shampoo. Fuck, I want to touch her so badly.

"Daddy, I love them," she says, her voice soft but firm. "And I love who I am with them."

I can't help the rush of pride that surges through me. Yeah, we love her too. In our own fucked up way.

Lawson looks like he's about to have an aneurysm. His face is red, veins popping out on his forehead. He throws his hands up in the air, a gesture of pure frustration.

"I can't just stay here and watch this shit," he growls, his voice raw with emotion. "This is...it's sick, Lemon. Can't you see that?"

Lemon shakes her head, her dark hair swaying with the movement. God, I love that hair. Love running my fingers through it when she's on her knees, looking up at me with those big emerald eyes.

"It's not sick, Dad," she says. "It's complicated, yeah. But it's real. They make me feel safe, and loved, and…and free. "

I exchange a glance with Atticus. His face is impassive, but I can see the pride in his eyes. Yeah, we've done a number on this girl. Broken her down and built her back up into something beautiful and fierce.

Lawson deflates, all the fight going out of him in one big rush. He looks tired and beaten down.

"Lemon," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "You need me. You don't know what you're getting into here."

Lemon shakes her head again, more firmly this time. "I don't need you to protect me anymore, Dad. What happened forced me to grow up."

Lawson looks at her for a long moment, his eyes searching her face. Then he sighs, a deep, bone-weary sound.

"Just promise me something," he says. "If you ever need me, if things ever go south, just pick up the phone. I'll be there. No questions asked."

Lemon nods, tears welling up as she hugs her dad before he walks right back out the front door.

Lemon turns to us, her face a mess of running mascara and snot. She looks beautiful, even like this. Maybe especially like this. Raw and real and fucking heartbreaking.

"Don't break my freaking heart," she chokes out, her voice cracking. "Because I just chose you two over my dad and you don't know what kind of strength that took from me."

Christ, those words. They hit me like a freight train. Before I know what I'm doing, I'm moving toward her. I grab her, folding her into my arms. She's so fucking fragile. I can feel her whole body shaking as she sobs into my chest.

"Shh, babygirl," I murmur, stroking her hair. "We've got you. We're not going anywhere."

I feel Atticus move behind us, his strong arms wrapping around both of us. He's like a fucking mountain, solid and immovable. His chest is pressed against my back, and I can feel the steady thump of his heart.

We stand there like that, the three of us tangled together, for what feels like hours. Lemon's sobs gradually quiet down to little hiccupping breaths. I can feel her fingers clutching at my shirt, like she's afraid we'll disappear if she lets go.

"You're ours, lemon drop," Atticus rumbles, his deep voice vibrating through all of us. "We're not letting you go."

I nod, pressing a kiss to the top of Lemon's head.

"Promise?" she asks, her voice small but hopeful.

"Promise," Atticus and I say in unison.

And fuck, I mean it. I've never been one for commitment, always had one foot out the door. But this? This feels different. It feels real.

Lemon sniffles, wiping her nose on her sleeve in a way that shouldn't be cute but somehow is. "I need you both. Right now. Please?"