Chapter 18 Linc
LINC
Sunny was on my mind all morning. I kept glancing at the photo I took of her in my bed.
Curled under the ivory blanket, her hair spilling across my pillow—a bright ribbon of color against the pale hue of the sheets.
For the first time in years, my concentration was muddled.
It wasn’t on the business in front of me.
I wanted to be back at the house with Sunny.
Lying beside her, feeling her soft skin on mine.
I wanted to feel her under me, hear her calling my name as we rediscovered each other.
Not sitting in an office listening as a bunch of power-hungry men tried to outdo one another.
I cleared my throat. “Gentlemen, as much as I appreciate that you all have an opinion on this matter, the bottom line is, it is my decision. I thank you for your input, and I’ll send my determinations to you soon.
” I glanced at my watch. “I have another meeting to attend, so excuse me. My assistant is off today, so you can show yourself out.”
I strode from the boardroom straight into my office, shutting the door. At my desk, I watched as they filed from the office, all muttering and angry. I didn’t care. They wanted my financial backing; they could play by my rules.
I picked up the phone and called Milo. He had sent a couple of messages while I was in the meeting, and unlike the men I dismissed, I was eager to hear what he had to say.
He wasn’t the same sort of lawyer as Ned.
He leaned more toward the darker side of the law and had a lot of contacts that came in handy on the rare occasion such as this.
We had met at Toblacove and had stayed in touch once we both got out.
“Linc,” he drawled by way of greeting me.
“Milo. Tell me you have good news.”
He chuckled, the sound low and dark. “It worked. I had him tailed to a bar, so he was already breaking parole. He was all over a young-looking girl in about five seconds. How the police got tipped to him violating his parole restrictions, I have no idea. Add in the drugs in his pocket? He’s back in jail, and he ain’t getting out for a long time. ”
“How did you get an underage girl into a bar?”
“I never said she was underage. I said she was young-looking—the way he likes. She was twenty-one. And one hell of an actress. Everyone in the bar heard her telling him off and knew he was getting handsy without permission. She almost screamed the place down.”
“So they have enough to hold him?”
“His parole restrictions were no bars, no alcohol or drugs, and he was to keep a fifty-foot radius from women under the age of twenty-five. He broke all the rules in one fell swoop.”
I tried not to laugh and failed. A gift of a bottle of rye delivered to Carl in the afternoon had ensured his bad decision-making.
He liked the hard stuff, and being in jail would have made him thirsty for the taste.
I had hoped it would set him back on the path to destruction, and I was pleased it had happened so quickly.
“Her mother?”
“I can’t locate her. I think she heard about Carl and went back into hiding.
Hopefully, she left town, but I’ll keep checking.
If she has nothing to hold over Abby, she knows there’s no point in bothering her.
Keep Abby in Mission Cove for a while. I have someone watching her building in case her mother shows up. ”
“Good job. Pay everyone involved and send me the bill.”
“Already done.”
I hung up and rubbed my eyes. Abby was safe again.
I wasn’t sure about her mother, but I knew Milo would keep a careful watch.
She was easier to deal with than Carl. He was a nasty piece of work, and I didn’t want to chance him going after Abby.
He shouldn’t have gotten parole, and while there was no doubt in my mind he would wind up back in prison sooner rather than later, I’d decided to help him along.
I wasn’t sure how Abby would feel about my actions, or Sunny.
I wondered about not telling them, simply informing Abby that I found out Carl was back in jail.
I had a feeling, however, she wouldn’t buy it.
I sat lost in my thoughts for a moment, then shook my head. I had better things to do right now than weighing the pros and cons of my actions.
Abby was safe again, and to me, the ends justified the means.
And besides, Sunny was waiting.
Ipulled into the garage, wondering if Sunny was still asleep in my bed. Part of me hoped she was. She worked too hard, and I wanted to spoil her today.
But entering the house, I had my answer.
All I could smell was biscuits. I found Sunny, not in my bed, but in the kitchen, wearing one of my dress shirts, the tails hanging down to her knees, and a pair of my heavy socks.
Her hair was pulled into a ponytail, her face free from makeup, and she looked adorable.
She looked up as I came around the corner, her welcoming smile bright.
I headed straight for her, catching her in my arms and lifting her off the ground.
I crashed my mouth to hers and kissed her long, hard, and passionately.
She plunged her hand into the hair at the nape of my neck, kissing me back with equal fervor.
I eased back, dropping my face to her neck with a groan.
“You have no idea what seeing you in my kitchen is doing to me right now.”
She wrapped her legs around my waist, laughing low in her throat. “I think I can, um, feel your reaction.” She rubbed against me. “I think you’re happy to see me. Or your cell phone is in your pocket,” she deadpanned.
“Baby, my cell phone doesn’t take up that sort of real estate.”
She giggled, the sound lilting and strange in my house. I liked it. I was about to kiss her again when the timer on the oven went off and she pushed away.
“Cockblocked by biscuits,” I muttered and set her on her feet.
She pulled the tray from the oven, the scent wafting over. She brushed butter and honey over the tops, the glistening sweetness making me salivate. She carried a plate to the table and slid it in front of me, then sat down.
“You have no jam in the house, but there was honey, so you’ll have to settle for that.”
“Okay. I think Mrs. Ellis got it in case I liked it in tea. I didn’t have the heart to tell her I never drink tea.”
She leaned over and kissed me, her lips lingering on mine. “You’re a good man, Linc.”
What happened earlier flitted thought my brain, and I frowned.
“What?” she asked.
I inhaled, then blew out a long breath and told her everything. Milo, what I asked him to do—what he had made sure happened.
She was silent for a moment, crossing her legs, pumping one foot slowly.
“You manipulated the situation.”
“It was going to happen,” I insisted. “Sooner or later.”
“But you made it happen now.”
“Yes. Abby needed to be safe. I won’t apologize for that.”
“I understand that, Linc, and I get where you’re coming from. But you need to be careful—this is a slippery slope you’re on.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked, reaching for a biscuit and taking a bite of the warm, dense dough.
“Your father did the same sort of thing.”
I froze, narrowing my eyes at her, the biscuit now dust in my mouth.
I swallowed and cleared my throat. “You think I’m like my father?
I didn’t do it to hurt anyone or for any sort of gain.
I wanted Abby safe.” I tapped the top of the wooden table, driving my point home.
“He deserved what he got. I could have done far worse.”
She bit her lip, sadness washing over her face. “That’s what frightens me, Linc.” She stood, walking toward the sink. Her shoulders were slumped, her posture defeated. I dropped the biscuit on my plate and followed her.
I had done that. Upset her. Worried her. Her words from the other day came back to me. “I don’t like to see the hate you carry inside, Linc. It frightens me.”
I wrapped my arms around her, holding her tight. She didn’t pull away, leaning back into me.
“I didn’t mean that, Sunny. I wouldn’t do anything else. I did what I thought I had to do to make sure he went back to jail and stayed away from Abby.”
“And her mother?”
“If she is a threat, I will keep her away from Abby.”
“Would you-would you hurt her?”
“No,” I insisted. “She’d be given a stern warning, and we’d give her money to go away. Take her to the bus station and make sure she moved on.”
“If she refused?”
“Then we’d get a restraining order. I don’t hurt people like that, Sunny.” I tried not to feel insulted she had to ask, but I did feel a pang of hurt.
“You don’t feel that you’re manipulating people?”
“I suppose, in this case, I am,” I admitted. “I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable.”
She sighed. “I get the feeling you’re not really that sorry.”
“I’m not the boy I was, Sunny. Too many things happened, too many years have gone by. But I am still the man who loves you. Who is trying. Can that be enough?”
She turned in my arms and gazed up at me.
I could see her struggle. I hated the wariness of her gaze.
She wanted the boy who was only ever good.
The one she remembered. But I had changed, and part of me was hard and did what I felt was best for the people I cared about.
But I didn’t do things to hurt people the way my father did. I protected them.
I wasn’t my father. She had to see that. I had to make her see that.
I tucked a loose curl behind her ear, trailing my finger over the tender lobe. I felt her shiver. “Sunny,” I whispered. “I’m still me. A little tougher toward the world, but not you. Never you.”
“I want to believe that.”
“Trust me. Give me that chance.”
Her eyes grew round as I moved closer, lifting her to the counter. She squeaked as her thighs hit the cold granite, making me grin. I leaned in, ghosting my mouth up her neck, stopping to sweep my tongue along her skin. She gripped the fabric of my shirt, bunching it in her hands.
“Promise me you’ll tread carefully.”