Cash (Sexy Bastard #2) (23 page)

Disentangling myself from him, he
grumbles and tries to grab me again, but I slip out of his grasp. The
kitchen is smaller than the one in my first apartment, and judging
from that I’m not expecting much in terms of fixings.

Cash mumbles something that amounts to
a grunt and a sigh before he rolls over, throwing an arm over his
eyes. There is exactly nothing in his fridge but a couple of takeout
cartons I wouldn’t touch with rubber gloves on, and a few
bottles of cold beer. Not exactly the ingredients for a breakfast of
champions.

If I want something edible that won’t
put me in the hospital, it’s time to go foraging. Sliding into
one of his shirts and a pair of sweats, I head down into the bar.
There’s bound to be something down here. Even if it’s
just peanuts, at least it will be something I know has been checked
for freshness in the last sixty days.

It’s different being in the bar
when it’s closed. The exit lights glow, and when I hit the
overhead lights, Altitude loses its otherworldly appearance. It’s
just another big empty room.

Going behind the bar, I wade through
Cash’s domain. I open a mini fridge and hit the jackpot: eggs.
Probably from the egg whites they use for drinks.

I sneak back upstairs and peek in on
Cash. Still passed out. I can’t help but smile like a
schoolgirl. The plan aside, this is exactly what I want out of life.
Okay, maybe a bigger apartment and a fridge that has actual food in
it, but me and Cash, I want this.

Even though he has next to no food,
the kitchen is well stocked with pans and utensils. I grab a pan and
start prepping an omelet. It’s going to be more of a scrambled
egg in the end, but it’ll still be protein.

The eggs start to sizzle, and I think
about how I can talk to Cash about the next step. It’s
different here in his space, and I want to know all about it. Like
the post cards on the fridge. Who sends them, and what do they mean
to Cash? While the eggs cook, I pull one off and flip it over. It’s
just a few hasty lines scratched on the back and a quick signature.
Knox.

The name means nothing to me, but from
the abundance of postcards I’m guessing Knox is someone
important to Cash. A brother maybe? The black sheep of his family
that he just won’t talk about? Is he afraid I can’t
handle my fair share of dark family secrets? Because I can. There’s
very little I can’t handle as long as he’s up front with
me. I’m a lawyer. I’ve looked into the darkness of the
world and come out with my soul still intact. Mostly. I mean, I
almost signed Tanner Jakes as a client.

It’s time we actually decide what
we’re doing here, because I don’t think we can call this
just a hook up anymore. It hasn’t been a one-night stand in a
long time—but are we dating?

“Cash,” I whisper to
myself, trying to figure out the words to say. What I wouldn’t
do for a legal pad to sort my thoughts out on. Plot my case as
carefully as I did in law school. “Are you having fun?”

No. Do not start it out in ‘fun’
that makes it sound like we’re just going to continue on being
‘fun.’ I don’t want fun.
I want more than fun. I want nights at the bar where I only remember
flashes of him, I want nights of ecstasy that I can barely stand, I
want quiet lazy afternoons where all we do is watch old movies and
cuddle. It’s not just about fun or sex—it’s more.

The eggs start to char, and I flip off
the burner still no closer to how I’m going to approach him.

“What are we?” I ask the
kitchen. Is simple the best? Just get it out there? Let it go.
“Because I want more.” That’s the follow up to
everything, isn’t it? It’s not just that we need to talk
about what we are. It’s that I want to be more.

I dump the eggs onto a plate and take a
fork full. And I almost spit it out when I hear—
BANG
BANG BANG—
reverberating
up the stairs.

Carefully, I set down my fork and walk
to the door. Maybe they’ll just go away. I freeze and listen
for any sign that they’re leaving.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

The smart thing to do would be to call
the police, or at the very least wake Cash up. I walk down a few
stairs, still searching for any sound that they’re leaving.

Making up my mind to go get Cash, I
head back up the stairs, but freeze when a voice takes over for the
banging.

“Cash Gardner, you open this door
right now and face me like a man.”

It’s a woman’s voice.
Yelling for Cash. My Cash.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

I grab the handle and jerk it open,
startling the woman on the other side.

The woman seems just as surprised to
find me here as I am to see her. She’s young, probably around
my age. Her blond hair has been strung up in a ponytail. Her watery
blue eyes spit fire. She’s just a person looking for a target.

And I stepped up to the fucking plate.

What really makes my stomach hit the
cement is the toddler on her hip. Three—maybe four—his
hair bright blond and his crystal blue eyes that say more about Cash
than I want to let myself believe.

No, I tell myself. Don’t jump to
conclusions. Cash isn’t Tanner. This isn’t happening
again.

“Can I help you?” I ask.

“Where is he?” the woman
demands.

“I’m sorry, who are you
looking for?” Stupid question, since she’s been yelling
his name at the top of her lungs for the past five minutes.

“Cash Gardner. You know him?”
She leans past me, trying to yell into the club. “And I know he
lives here, because this is where that hush money comes from.”
Her constant yelling makes the toddler scream and break out in tears.
“So you tell him to get his ass down here now and face his
fucking responsibilities.” She bounces the kid on her hip,
trying to cajole him, but the kid’s face has gone beet red and
his screams are worse than his mama’s yelling.

My heart drops, but I try to stay cool.
Please don’t let this be what I think it is. “What
business do you have with Mr. Gardner?”

“You his secretary or something?”
She hushes the kid. “Billy, please, it’ll be okay. Just
give mama five more minutes.” Billy sniffles and still cries,
but at the very least he’s gone down a few octaves. “Well,
you can tell Mr. High and Mighty that Marissa Stamretz is here.
Better yet, you can tell Mr. Gardner for me that I don’t want
his money.” She pulls a check from her back pocket and shoves
it at me. “His father ruined my family, and the only thing that
could possibly help is for him to go to jail. He can’t buy
forgiveness for what’s happened.”
She adjusts the toddler on her hip and looks at me with compassion.
“Look, you clearly don’t know anything about what’s
going on.”

She’s right. I look at the check
she holds out and it says
Gardner
Trust
and there are a lot of zeros on that check.

What is she talking about? Cash doesn’t
have that kind of money. And a trust?

“I’m sorry,” I say
not knowing what else I could do.

“It’s not your fault. It’s
what happens when you trust lousy businessmen. They take your money
and run, and no, some loser’s kid can’t make up for
that.”

“Savy?” Cash walks down the
stairs, a pair of jeans thrown on hastily, his hair still messy from
sleep. “What’s going on?”

I turn, holding out the check. “You
tell me.” This was what I wanted, but the truth is I have no
idea who I’ve been sleeping with. A man who can keep secrets
like this Marissa woman and her son.

His face freezes in confusion. His eyes
go back and forth between me and Marissa, like he’s trying to
put it all together.

“This woman came here with her
child to return a check,” I say flatly. Cash pales. That’s
right, you asshole, you got caught.

“Savy—let me explain,”
he says, taking a step toward me and I instinctually back up. I don’t
know what he’s going to tell me, I just know, there’s a
whole part of his life he’s kept hidden from me.

Just like Tanner did.

God, I’m so fucking dumb.

“You finally have the nerve to
show your face,” Marissa says, advancing on him. “You
think some sort of hush money will make up for what your father did
or keep us quiet? Because we don’t want this.”

The look on Cash’s face confirms
what I’ve been fearing since the beginning. He’s been
keeping something from me, and it finally followed him home.

And I run for the stairs.

Cash

Savannah rushes back up the stairs and
there’s no way to catch her without completely abandoning the
woman in front of me. She’s shoving a check into my face. One
that I wrote over to her and her family.
Marissa
Stamretz.

No way in this lifetime was this how I
wanted Savannah to find out about my father—about what he did.
I don’t know what’s worse, the woman standing in front of
me with a check or the blank, vacant look that took over Savannah.

“You can take your money and
shove it.” The woman presses a check into my hands and starts
to walk away. No no no. She can’t not take the money. This is
supposed to make it better—supposed to make up for everything
that my father did. If she doesn’t take it, then what am I
doing?

“This is for you, I can’t—I
don’t want it and I don’t need it.”

“Well isn’t
that nice for you, poor little rich boy.”

“I can’t change what my
father did. This is the only way I can think of to make it right.”

“My parents lost everything after
what your father did. Their retirement, their home—but we
survived. This check, do you know what it brings up for us? Horrible
memories. We got through everything by the skin of our teeth while we
watched you Gardners have it all.”

“That’s why I’m
giving—”

“I wasn’t done, so you
listen here,” the woman goes on. The boy on her hip has found
something amusing and starts clapping for his mother.

“My mama got
sick—real sick. There are medical bills, and there’s
not health insurance anymore.”

“So use the money I’m
giving you to help get your family into a better place.” I
argue helplessly, still thinking about the look on Savy’s face.
“I’m not saying it’ll be perfect, but it’s
better than nothing. If I could change what my father did, I
would…but I can’t.” I hold the check out to her.
This has to work. It’s the only thing that’s keeping me
from absolutely hating my family. The idea that some part of my
father’s fortune can pay a semblance of restitution.

“I came down here because I
wanted to be a decent human being. So that I could look you in the
eye and say what I’m about to say to your face—”

“Before you tell me to go to hell
again. I’m not going to spend this money. I can’t take
it, not when I know where it comes from. It broke my family, don’t
let it be the end of yours.”

She looks long and hard at the check in
my hand.
Come on
, I will her,
take it. Just take it.
It
looks like she’ll reach for it, but in the end she just grabs
her son’s hand and disentangles it from her ponytail.

“Money can’t break a
family, it’s just a wedge that splits the crack open. We’ll
get through this without any
help
from you Gardners.” She doesn’t
even look at the check just turns and walks away.

I close the door on my father’s
past and all I want to do is yell. This wasn’t supposed to be
how it worked out. A sound from my apartment tells me there’s
still one way I might be able to save today.

Savannah is still here. It douses me
like cold water slamming me right back down to earth. She knows. But
what does she know, and what she must think about it?

I sprint for the door to the club and
take the stairs to my apartment two at a time. I barely make it in
time to stop her from walking out the door.

“Get out of my way.” She’s
shoving things into her bag and doing her best not to look at me. But
she can’t hide the tears from me. Fuck. Shit. This is all my
fault. I was waiting for the right time, I thought after last night
that I would let her in, and then that woman had to go and show up.

“Please,” I say, trying to
catch my breath. “Please just let me explain. Don’t think
like that. Don’t put me on the same level as him.” If
she’ll just listen to what I have to say, I’ll explain it
to her. I’ll tell her things I should have told her from the
beginning. I know this now.

“You don’t know what I’m
thinking right now.”

Standing in front of her, I block the
hallway. “You think this is Tanner all over again. That I’ve
lied to you and that the woman downstairs is one of the girls I’ve
slept with and that the check is some sort of child support.”

Savannah crosses her arms and just
shakes her head at me. “Wrong, now excuse me.” She tries
to push past me and I grab her arms, pinning her to the spot, because
she has to listen to me. There has to be some way to make her
understand what I did, what I’m still trying to do.

“I promise—”

“No, don’t
even start. This
is
Tanner
all over again. You’re a fucking asshole, Cash Gardner, and I
hope your balls burn in hell.”

“Let me explain. Please just hear
me out.” I look in to her eyes and will Savannah to relent, to
let me at least try and make her see what I’ve been trying to
do. She crosses her arms and pulls out her phone.

“Give me one good reason.”

“I promise you that is not my kid
and I have never—ever—met that woman before today.”
I stare her down. She has to believe me on this. I just need to
explain it to her. She’ll understand, I know she will. She’s
smart.

“You have two minutes.” She
looks at her phone and stares at me expectantly.

I don’t
know where to begin, so I just start at the beginning. The words come
slowly at first but they pick up pace, and I just keep going emptying
my life’s story on her. My parents and their house and boarding
school. That’s how I know Morgan Dockson—the woman we met
at the club. Then the crash and all those people and how my parents
got off scot free. I’m not some poor bartender at the end of
his rope, I have a trust fund with over seven figures in it and I
plan on giving that money all away to my father’s victims.