Absolute Power (Southern Justice #1 (28 page)

“I’m the oldest,” I replied as I watched his tongue peek out to lick his lips. With hooded eyes, he leaned closer to me, his half-open eyes searching mine. I was frightened he was about to kiss me, yet terrified that he wouldn’t. I could feel his breath against my face and almost taste his mouth on mine as he inched closer.

“Oh shit!” He shouted suddenly, jumping back as if he were on fire and ripping his shirt from his body, flinging it to the cement floor. The tool he had in his hand clanged down beside his shirt. I looked around to see what had caused his reaction and noticed the screw on the floor, a line of clear fluid dripping from an open valve.

“Sorry, Claire.” The same rag he used to wipe his hands now cleaned the fluid off his chest. Skin so smooth across well-defined muscles, with a large tattoo of what looked to be a vine of roses starting at his collarbone and ending just at the tip of his deltoid where the vine wrapped around, disappearing under his arm.

“I shouldn’t have disrespected you or your boyfriend like that.” He continued to clean the fluid, which had created a fairly large puddle on the floor.

I pulled several paper towels from the dispenser beside the sink. “No worries, Dylan.” Kneeling down, I applied the towels to the liquid on the floor. “You did no harm and there is no boyfriend to disrespect.”

Covering his large hand over my much smaller one, he stopped the progression of my cleaning the caustic spill. I glanced up to see his eyes boring into mine. “What about the Irish guy? The one I saw you with.”

Laughter bubbled up from my chest, causing me to toss my head back to let it out. “The Irish guy…” I looked at him trying not to sound like a bitter bitch. “…has an Irish fiancée
he
chose not to tell me about.”

Taking the soiled towels from my hands, I reached for the cause of the disruption, a screw, which I placed back into the open valve. “I got the privilege of meeting her tonight, after he canceled on me at the last minute—for the fourth time.”

He was silent as he opened a door across the room, pulled out another flannel shirt, and slipped his arms into the sleeves, leaving the front unbuttoned.

“A few weeks ago, Carson and I were having a drink over at McGuire’s. We were at the bar since it was just the two of us.” He leaned against the counter, hands behind him supporting his weight and ankles crossed. “Mr. O’Leary was fussing with the guy who was running the kitchen. At the time, I thought nothing of it, but now you say he is getting married, it makes a hell of a lot of sense.”

You can’t start the next chapter of your life, if you keep re-reading the last one.

~Unknown

Four weeks prior

“Y
ou’re sure about this?” Diesel questioned as he scanned my letter of resignation. Once I’d made up my mind, there was no turning back.

“I’m not doing you, or this city, any good anymore. It’s time I moved on.” I’d spent all of five minutes typing the end of my career with the City of Charleston. I was more eager to meet with the son of a deceased bike shop owner, than my boss of the past few years.

When I called Carson and asked him to meet me at the Bridge, he questioned if I was all right. We leaned over the rail at the halfway mark, watching the cargo ships sail under the concrete beneath us.

“You know, some men spend their whole lives working for a paycheck in a job they hate because they haven’t the courage to do anything about it.” His fingers were interlaced, eyes lost in the horizon, the sun turning the river into a reflective mirror. “Just promise me that when it’s my turn, you’ll have a job for a washed up street cop.”

The wind picked up; blowing hard enough to nudge me back a little.

“There’s more on your mind than just changing jobs.” Carson added pointedly.

I took a deep breath, the wind from the river blowing across my white knuckles, fear building in my chest at his response to what I was about to say. “You once warned me to stay away from Claire, and I have.” I turned my body to face his. “I don’t want to stay away anymore.”

Carson pulled away from the rail, and I readied myself for the punch my mouth might have just bought me.

“You’re serious?” He gasped. Fighting hard to control his smile, but failing miserably in the end.

“Not right away, I need to get things settled first, but yes. I want more than a new job and attitude. I want what you and Mrs. Georgia have, what my momma and dad have, hell, even what my little brother, Chase, is mucking around about.”

He placed his arm around me, much like my dad had done, and walked back the way we came. “Go talk to your boss and Ike’s son, then meet me at McGuire’s and we’ll talk about this a little more.”

Diesel refused my resignation, instead had me take a leave of absence for the maximum time of one year. “Dylan, you may get in that shop and find you miss being a cop or hate getting greasy. Either way, you’ll have a year to make up your mind.” I didn’t need the time, but would do this to appease the tough old bastard.

McGuire’s had barely five people inside when I arrived, one of them the man I needed to talk with, sitting at the bar. As I approached, I became aware he was in the middle of a conversation on his phone.

Getting the attention of the bartender, I ordered myself a beer as I waited for Carson to finish. The clanking of dishes sounded from the kitchen, located behind the bar. I heard raised voices and the beginning, or perhaps the continuation, of an argument reaching a level above the noise of the kitchen.

“Da, he is a man, a grown one at that. If he wants to have a fling before he marries Megan then what concern is it of ours.”

The man I knew to be the owner, rounded the partition, a case of Jameson in his arms. “And what if she get er’ claws into em’? Turns up pregnant for Christ’s sake.” He set the box on the bar and turned in the direction of the man who followed him.

“Then he’ll have two children and you’d be blessed with another grandchild.”

Present Day

From the moment I’d received Carson’s blessing, I’d worked night and day to get to the point I was now. I’d had many conversations with Shayla, encouraging her to get what she really wanted in life. I’d also declined Portia’s pleas for me to bond her out of jail, her addictions finally catching up to her.

Troy Walton, one of the boys who worked in another county, had called me as I finished a meeting with one of Dad’s attorneys. Portia had been caught in an undercover drug bust. She was trying to sell nearly ten thousand dollars’ worth of cocaine. She begged me to do something to get her out; swore she would do anything I wanted her to if I would only help her this one time. The next morning I’d changed my number, closing the door to that part of my past.

The shop was coming along better than I expected. One of the easiest deals I had ever made. Ike Houser, the previous owner, died in his sleep. His only living relative, a son from back east, had no desire to own the shop. My dad knew the attorney who was handling the probate and called me immediately.

Not a minute after the check was handed over; Momma came in with her broom and dust rag, cleaning out what was labeled the bathroom. She got hold of one of her contractor friends and I had a new bathroom and kitchen in the blink of an eye.

“He’s a father?”

I hadn’t expected to see Claire for a few more days. Dr. Gillman, or Will as he asked me to call him, helped to get her schedule for me. On her next day shift, which was Thursday, I wanted to walk into the hospital, flowers in hand and ask her out on a proper date.

However, having her show up at my shop, looking like a beautiful drowned rat, worked out so much better. Even through her shivering, I could see the inner strength she possessed. If I were lucky enough to win her affections, she would be with me out of choice and not ulterior motives.

“Always be the thoughts behind her smile, not the reason for her tears.”

“I believe so,” I confirmed.

I never cared for Dr. O’Leary, but not only because he had gotten close to Claire. Hell, I hated him for what I suspected happened between them. I disliked him for something, which had come across my desk about a year ago. He had been pulled over during a routine traffic stop to find he was three times the legal drinking limit. When the officer removed him from the car, he was naked from the waist down. Two naked prostitutes emerged from the floorboard of the car. One phone call to the family attorney, some cash exchanging hands, and everything disappeared.

Claire walked around the shop, her arms circled around her waist as if she was holding herself together. When she ended her tour by the refrigerator, I watched as her shoulders began to shake. At first I assumed she was crying, but as she turned her body toward me, her smile showed she was laughing instead.

“Thank God I never slept with him!” She exclaimed. “To think I was ready to climb down his neck with the news I’d heard tonight at the bar.” Her arms were raised in the air toward the ceiling, bringing them down abruptly, slapping them against her thighs as she voiced the last word.

I wanted to wrap her in my arms and rejoice with her for not fucking Notre Dame. I had wanted to kiss her earlier, breaking the long-standing rule I held myself to. I wanted to enjoy the essence of this beautiful woman, discover the secrets she kept about her family and why she avoided speaking about them. I would learn everything about her.

“You said your brother fixed motorcycles?” I crossed the room back to the bike I had almost finished before Claire arrived.

“He loved to tinker with just about anything. If I wanted to spend time with him, I had to sit right there with him.” Her gentle smile reflected a memory; a happy one no doubt.

“What about you, do you enjoy riding?” Her hair had started to dry, bringing about a wave she must brush out normally. My shirt was four times as big as she needed; yet she looked better than any completely naked girl I’d ever been with.

“Benny took me a few times, just around the property by our…
home
.” Her voice faded off as she swallowed thickly around her fingernails, which had found her teeth.

“Tell me about your brothers. You have two, correct?” She pulled herself up on the counter, her pale legs dangling, and toes painted a bright red. Her eyes searched mine, her hands bracing herself against the top of my workbench.

“I do, Austin and Chase.” I could tell I’d pushed her to a place she didn’t want to go. It was fine, though. I’d play by her rules as long as she needs.

“At your grandfather’s funeral, your mom said she’d found you?”

If I wanted to know more about her, I would have to share parts of me. Explaining to her where I came from was easy, telling her where I planned to go was the hard part.

“My momma did more than find me, she saved me. She kept me from becoming like the woman who gave birth to me.” I had to look away, back to wiping the last of the fluid off the exhaust pipe, as she crossed her legs.

“I was born to inmate number 927. She was a permanent guest of a South Carolina women’s penitentiary. They suspected a guard was my father, since she had been incarcerated for five years before I came along.” With the last of the fluid gone, I turned my attention to her, while buttoning my shirt.