Ash: A Bad Boy Romance (8 page)

“Well let me tell you something, boy.
Women
aren’t worth anything in this world. The only thing that matters is
family
. And I’m securing the future for mine. Sentimentality be damned.”

“And you’ll do this when exactly?”

“A week. Bianca is fine for now, and if she can cough up the money in the meantime, she’s as good as gold.”
 

I sort through my bank accounts in mind—and I have nothing even
close
to that amount of money.
 

“And the girl?” I ask.

“There are plenty of houses Bianca knows nothing about. I bet putting Summer in one of them will make her cough up the money before I decide to kill both of them.” He shrugs like it doesn’t matter what he does at this point. And then he coughs, wincing like he’s in pain.

If he hurts Summer, he will be.
 

“Hold off for now, Cullen.”

“And why would I do something like that, Jonny?”
 

“There are no guarantees, but I can get Bianca to cough up that money. And when she does, you’ll leave her alone, right?” Even as I’m saying the words, I know this is something I
can’t
do, but if I have enough time, I can come up with some idea—something that will make everything right.
 

“Sure, Jonny.” Cullen stares at me with that one eye. Because there’s only one, it’s almost impossible to tell what he’s thinking—I’ve always felt that way about him. “I’ll make sure no harm comes to her.
If
I get the money in a fortnight.”

“I’ll sort it out.” I turn and leave, turning my vague thoughts over and over in my head.
 

There’s probably no way out of this.
 

But if Summer’s in danger I’ll
have
to find a way.

Present Day
 

Marriage is never simple
, Summer told me.

I hadn’t believed her. I thought I’d take her to the courthouse, get hitched, and get divorced a couple of months later once she got safely to North Carolina and Cullen cooled down.

It wasn’t that simple then, and it’s not simple now. Not when I’m sitting in a fucking divorce lawyer’s office, looking around like an asshole.

I’m supposed to be meeting Josh at the new gym we’re looking at buying, but instead, I’m here.

I clench my knuckles and scan the stupid fucking divorce lawyer’s waiting room. It’s done up in that tacky fake wood paneling that was popular about three hundred years ago, and there’s one of those pink and blue paintings of a cottage set back in the woods, painted to look like there’s light from a sunset pouring over the whole thing. It’s meant to be cheerful, I guess, but a divorce lawyer’s lobby probably isn’t a place where a lot of people are real cheerful.

But not showing up three years ago when she asked me to was a shitty idea then, and it’s a shitty idea now. So here I am, being some kind of man about it.
 

It’s the only thing I
can
do—because it’s the only way she said she’ll see me. And in order for her to take a risk, she needs to understand what I’m about. There are delicate pieces and old secrets in place, and she needs to understand them all before she lets me go.
 

I hope she wants me enough to wait for all the pieces to fall together.

Summer strolls through the door, right on time. Instead of her scrubs, she’s wearing a black pencil skirt and a pair of sensible flat shoes she wouldn’t have been caught dead in when I first met her. She has on some kind of flowy blue blouse that’s likely intended to look professional, but it’s slightly too low-cut, and Summer’s tits could never quite manage to look professional.
 

She’s not the same girl who wandered into a college bar with a shimmery, tight little dress. But she’s still sexy as hell, even though she looks like she’s in need of a good night’s sleep and possibly another bowl of fish and grits.
 

I stand up, and something tightens in my chest when I look at her. She made it clear when she sent me away the other night that she has no intention of working things out. Well, two can play at this game. I nod at her, even though I’d rather take her right back to my apartment, where she belongs. “Summer,” I say. It probably wouldn’t be a
positive
choice, as my sponsor would say, to call her
Sunshine
in this situation.
 

“Ash,” she says, a faint blush rising over her cheeks. I know she prides herself on being unreadable, and that piercing gaze of hers usually is. Even now, her expression is as flat as the wood-paneled wall. But that blush gives her away, every single time. Even here, even in her conservative little get-up in this fucking depressing lawyer’s office, there’s a jolt of electricity that moves between us.
 

But I’m here to play a part today, to play-act my way through this little charade. So I smile, and I straighten up, wearing my button-down shirt and a pair of my buddy’s slacks. I have the sleeves rolled up half way, because fuck button-downs. But otherwise, I’m just as professional as Summer. She smiles faintly at me.

Before we have to say any awkward bullshit, the lawyer’s assistant welcomes us back to the office, where the lawyer sits with his puffy red cheeks and his shitty brown suit. He looks like he’s about one BLT short of a heart attack, and the wedding ring on his left hand looks like it’s struggling for room to exist on his giant sausage fingers. He smiles at us, and then glances at Summer’s tits as she sits down, his eyes lingering a little longer than necessary.
 

I crack my knuckles and shake out my shoulders like I’m getting ready for a fight.
 

“So, Summer and Jonathan—”

“Ash. I don’t go by Jonathan.”

“Yes, Ash. Got it.” The lawyer grins, but his eyes are beady and dead. “Let’s get down to brass tacks. This is an easy case. You all have been separated for three years—”

“Not by choice.”
 

Summer cuts her eyes at me. “Ash, come on. We talked about this.”

“Yeah, but we didn’t
agree
to this.”

“That may be, Mr. Ash.” The lawyer looks to me. “But Ms. Colington tells me you left her three years ago, and that you’ve been separated since then. That’s grounds for what we call ‘abandonment.’ Since Ms. Colington is back in the states, she can file for divorce in North Carolina, uncontested.”

I nod, like I’m considering what he’s saying. But when he turns back to Summer, I pull a neatly folded stack of papers from my back pocket. “I’d like to submit these. These are four emails dating back to 2012, asking
Ms. Colington
where in the fuck she went. There’s some colorful language in the first one, but you’ll see the following emails aren’t so bad.”

Summer groans, and I look at her. She’s turning redder now, with rage instead of lust. We’ll get to lust eventually. “Ash—what the fuck—I never
got those emails.
”

The lawyer’s eyes open wide at Summer, and then he looks to me. “Now, what is it you’re suggesting, Mr. Ash? You going to contest this divorce?”

“All I want is the legal separation, just like everyone else in the state. We’re entitled to that. A year of legal separation where we’re still married but not living together. Not unless you want to move in—”

“Ash, no. You didn’t send those, and I didn’t get them.” Summer’s voice is raspy, almost like it’s going to crack. I can tell she wants to curse, that she’s absolutely livid. “We can’t do this. I can’t do this. You are making this shit up.”

“I am not, Sunshine.”
 

The lawyer takes the emails out of my hand. They’re signed, notarized, and everything else I could think of. Good thing I know a forger in New York who could get them to me overnight. And good thing I know this divorce lawyer errs on the side of separation, almost universally.
 

Being part of the underworld in North Carolina might not be as exciting as it is in New York, but it has its fringe benefits.

“Ash—I didn’t get those—” There’s a quiver in her voice, like she thinks she might be losing her mind.
 

“You got the first one.” I turn to the lawyer. “If you’ll see here, her response is included. It says, ‘Fuck you, Jonathan Ash.’”

Summer blushes deeply. She did send that one, just not in response to any of these forged emails. But my guy in New York got these things to look just right.

“These do indeed look official, Miss Colington—”

“Dr. Colington,” I correct. “They are.”

“They are not!” She nearly shouts it and then she claps her hand over her mouth.
 

“Contingent on the separation going through, I won’t reveal that she and I are married. Not to her mother, not to her place of work. But I need the separation. I won’t sign divorce papers without it.”

She looks at me, tears beginning to form in her eyes. “Ash, what’s the point of this? What in the hell are you trying to do?”

“Just giving us a chance. Even if it’s a snowball’s chance in hell. Even if it doesn’t make a difference. All I want is time.”
 

And please Sunshine, forgive me for this one little trespass. It was shitty. It was stupid. But it’s my last ditch effort.

The lawyer shuffles through the emails and nods. “We can do this. I don’t see any reason why not to file for the legal separation—”

“I see every reason why
not
to—but this man is hell bent on screwing up my life.” Summer stands up and slams her hand against the table. Both the lawyer and I jump, and she walks out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
 

“Send me the paperwork at my address,” I say, leaping up and following after her. I need to make some headway with this woman on this day, come hell or high water. She’s already out of the door and marching to the car in her sensible shoes, her ass bouncing and delicious. I run out into the parking lot and catch her arm, probably like a fool. A long time ago, my father said there weren’t second chances, not for men like him—or me. He was drunk and raging, and my mother was long gone.

I believed him for a long time. But when Summer turns around and looks at me, there’s a flash of something in her eyes, something that makes her look like the girl she was when she met me.
 

It only takes a second for her face to change back to hard lines and cold eyes. “Ash, what’s your goal?” Her voice is stony, none of the emotion I heard in it before. “Is it because you can’t have me? Or what?”

“It’s because you’re
mine
, Sunshine. I won’t let it end like this.”
 

“You already let it end, Ash. A long time ago. It was good for the little while we were together. And then—”

“And then you were gone.”

“You know that’s not fair. The plan was to get me back to North Carolina. You promised you’d come with me. And you never came.”

I take her other hand and hold both of them in mine. “I know. I couldn’t come.”
 

“What in the hell do you mean, ‘couldn’t?’”

“Cullen told me that if I stayed in New York, he’d leave you alone for good. Your aunt too. And your mother.”

Her hands are still in mine, her skin clammy. “My mother?”

“He knows a lot more than you expect, Sunshine.”

“And now?”

“He’s retired. Told me the hit was off altogether.” I shrug. He also said I
could
see her again—Bianca said that too. But God bless her, she doesn’t know anything about those two and their sick little life.

Her shoulders hunch forward, like the wind’s been knocked out of her. “After all that time worrying—about you—about my aunt.”

“It’s over. It’s long over.”

“You didn’t come because you couldn’t.” She says it flatly. I sort of expected her to fall into my arms. “That’s some kind of bullshit, Ash. There’s always a choice. Don’t tell me it had to do with Cullen.” She crosses her arms and steps away from me, lower lip in a slight pout.

“It
was
because of Cullen, but not for the reason you think.”

“God, you with all these secrets. Just get out with it. I know you want to convince me of something here, and I still don’t know
why
.”