Morrison (Caldwell Brothers #2) (7 page)

I have lost my ever-loving fucking mind. Of course Monte would have people watching me. Of course the minute he got word I picked Marisa up early he would be on his way to her. Of course in the blink of an eye I would have nothing to balance the scales and would have hit bottom, the sins of the past always weighing me down.

The drive is a blur as I go crazy inside knowing Monte
could be closing in on us. He will take her. He will take her from me. My baby, my little girl, my reason for existence—he will get her and find a way to make me pay.

The man has no conscience. Hell, the man has no soul. I knew I was in bed with the devil himself, but what could I do? Hailey “Hard Knocks” Poe Timmons—he got the nickname right. My entire life has been surviving the hard knocks.

Tears fill my eyes, making the road in front of me blur while I follow Morrison closely so I don’t get separated from my daughter any more than I already am.

How did he know where I lived? How did he show up just when I needed an escape? Can he really give us a safe place?

I don’t know shit about him. Am I going from one bad situation to another? Could it even get worse?

Hailey, cut that shit
out right now,
I tell myself.
It can always be worse. Don’t tempt karma; she’s a bitch, and she’ll be sure to show you much worse.

My chest tightens at the thought, making it hard to breathe. I need a distraction.

I start to tap my fingers nervously on the steering wheel and look at the speedometer, seeing we are going five under the speed limit. The man has a fucking Porsche, and we are driving
under the speed limit, all of this with Monte possibly catching up.

I gasp. What if he’s working for Monte? How stupid am I?

I stop myself before my mind runs wild with one bad scenario after another. A man like Morrison Caldwell is not the type to run with the likes of Sean “Monte” Timmons. No, Morrison is about the game, the money, and the flash. He isn’t one for power plays and mind games.
Is he?

God, I hope the hell not.

My mind swirls, making me feel like I want to vomit, as Marisa’s head bobs, and it hits me right in my gut. I look in my rearview mirror to see just what I didn’t want to see in my backseat.

Marisa’s car seat.

In all the chaos, we didn’t move it into Morrison’s car. No, no, no. Please don’t let him wreck. Please let her be buckled. Please, oh please, don’t
let us get pulled over. The last thing I need is for Monte to be able to level a charge of child endangerment against me. The last thing my little girl needs is to become property of the state.

She is mine. I can’t lose her to anyone. She is the only good I have in this entire world, and I can’t give that up.

Now on high alert, I watch him drive, wondering if he realizes just how precious the
cargo is that he carries.

Every turn, he slows and uses a signal. Every stoplight, he brakes with ease. He never gets remotely near the speed limit, much less goes over it. Morrison Caldwell is a man of mystery, but right now, he is keeping my little girl safe, even if it may only be until Monte gets to us.

The burn fills my lungs again as the thoughts continue to invade.

He slows, and I follow
as we enter a gated community of condos, a luxurious entryway opening into the upscale facility. I continue at what feels like a snail’s pace behind him until he pulls into a garage and directs me to pull in beside him.

Blowing out a breath, I try to calm my nerves. I have to be strong for Marisa. Then I force my fingers to stop trembling and get out of my car just as my precious little girl
comes bouncing over without a care in the world.

Inside, I smile to myself. This is how it should be. Adult problems are just that—adult fucking problems. They shouldn’t trickle down on top of kids. Let children be children. There is more than enough time later in life for them to be filled with worry, doubts, and insecurities.

“Mommy, did you see me? Did you see me?” She beams, and I look to
Morrison, who is smirking. “I rode in a porch.”

“Porsche,
Porsche,
” Morrison tries to correct.

“It’s s’posed to go really, really fast, but Mister Mowison asked if I wanted to go fast or slow, and I said slow.”

In that moment, my heart melts just a little. He gave my baby girl a choice. I can’t think of a time with my mom, my sperm donor, or Monte that I was ever given a choice about anything.
However, Morrison Caldwell gave my daughter a choice. He listened and then gave her what she asked for.

When I look to him, he simply shrugs like it’s no big deal. If he only knew…

Quickly growing bored, Marisa bounces past me and over to Morrison, who leads us inside. The space is not overly large, like the house I shared with Monte, but as I take in every single square inch, I see it is high-class.
The furniture, the TV—hell, even the accent pieces are high-end.

Morrison has money.

Thinking on that, my mind spins down the dark rabbit hole yet again. What will he expect from me? What does he want from me?

We spend the rest of the afternoon getting set up—only temporarily—in Morrison’s guest room. Luckily, he doesn’t say much in front of Marisa, seeming to understand my need to shelter
her.

Night comes all too quickly, thankfully with no word from Marshall or Monte. I’d made a quick call to Jamie, who told me to shut my phone off and get a new prepay to contact her on. After we left earlier, she’d gone to the store and bought pads, tampons, and a prepaid phone that she gave me the number to. The packages of feminine products easily hid the phone inside the plastic grocery bags
on the way out of the store. She doesn’t want Alex to see any numbers on the bill for her regular phone and turn them over to Monte. Thank goodness for smart friends. I wouldn’t be able to do any of this without her.

I sigh. I wouldn’t be able to do any of this without Morrison, either.

Whether I want to admit it or not, Monte would have found a reason to push me harder and further even without
knowing I hooked up with Morrison. This is his world, and I merely exist in it to do as he wishes.

Knowing I won’t be able to sleep, I slowly pull myself away from Marisa, who is soundly sleeping in the overly lush bed. Her books aren’t packed, because in my rush, I didn’t think about such things. She happily settled for Mommy making up a fairy tale and added in her own bits and pieces where
she felt appropriate.

Now, I quietly move through Morrison’s space as the dread washes over me. Curling up on his couch, I do what any self-respecting mother would do—I cry.

I let it all out. In the quiet of the night, in a relative stranger’s house, I let go.

I don’t pay attention to what’s around me as I sob into the fancy throw pillow I find beside me. It isn’t long before, sensing him,
I look up to see Morrison walking over to me in a pair of light blue linen pants with white stripes. I hide my face behind the pillow.

How much has he seen?

“Sorry to interrupt, but in my master bedroom, there is a huge bathtub full of hot water and some bubbles. Why don’t you go see if that will help you relax?”

“I don’t need to relax, and if you’re just trying—”

“Hold up. I’m not trying
anything except to keep you safe until we can come up with a plan.”

I look up at him and scowl.

“Stow the badass Hailey. You know damn well that’s not what you need right now.”

“Don’t tell me what I need!”

“Shh, little chick is sleeping.”

I am shocked that he’s just scolded me. Then I am flooded with even more emotions—warmer ones. Monte never cared if Marisa witnessed a fight. That’s why
I stopped allowing him to push my buttons around her. She didn’t deserve to hear that; she deserves so much more.

Without a word, I get up and follow the light. Maybe Morrison is right; maybe I do need to try to relax.

Once we’re in his room, he holds out a shirt. “Sleep in this if you want.”

I am in the bathroom, soaking away my worries, or at least trying to, when he walks in and hands me
a glass of wine. “Here, you’ve earned it, little momma.”

He walks over to the closet and pulls out two towels. When he is ready to walk out, I stop him.

“Thank you, Morrison.”

“No need,” he says, looking back at me as I chug the wine. “That’s really much better if you sip it. Savor it, take—”

“I’ll try to remember that next time.”

He nods, then walks out, only to return with the bottle. “It’s
here if you need it.”

“Getting me drunk won’t get you laid.”

“Didn’t plan on getting laid, babe. But not gonna lie—I did plan on trying to get you into bed.”

I roll my eyes, and then a very soft smile forms on his lips.

“You need sleep. We need to figure out what’s next,” he says as he walks out.

“I need to plan,” I say loud enough for him to hear me.

“That’s what I just said.” He shuts
the door behind him.

I soak in his ginormous tub, trying to wash my worries down his overpriced drain. When I come to terms with that never happening, I get out. Drying off, I scoop up the shirt he laid out for me without thinking.

Morrison is tall. His pajama shirt comes down to just above my knees.

Exhaustion is taking over. With the emotions of the day, the bath, and the wine, I am more
than ready to sleep off the rest of this hellish day. Needing to put this all behind me, I go to the guest room, where Marisa has turned sideways, consuming the entire bed. I’ve just made my way back to Morrison’s room for a blanket and pillow when everything hits, and, exhausted, suddenly I find myself lying in his bed. And before I can drift off to dreamland, Morrison is climbing in beside me.

Looking at him, I notice I am wearing the top to his bottoms, and I can’t help giggling.

“Babe, it’s not good for a man’s ego if you laugh when he climbs in bed.”

“Morrison, we’re wearing the pajama set.”

He winks. “Sharing is caring.”

“Sharing, huh?” The wine has me feeling relaxed—maybe a little too relaxed. Although my plan was to go to sleep, now that he’s in the bed with me, sleep is
not what’s on my mind.

He reaches up and rubs his thumb in circles on my temple while his fingers find their way into my hair. “What’s going on in there?”

“I’m not a whore. Well, I am, but not ’cause I’m easy. I lost. Monte won. The prize was me. He got me.”

“Baby, you are every man’s prize.”

I giggle at his sentiment and slap at his chest. “I’ve only ever been with him…Well, until you blocked
me in, and I couldn’t resist.” I begin blabbering, a trait that’s far from attractive. I have heard of liquor lips, but what do they call it when the wine has you telling your deepest and darkest secrets in life?

“Hailey.” He says my name softly, stopping my crazy rambling about my time with Monte. “Where’s your family? Is there anyone who ever tried to intervene, or people you can go to?”

I laugh sharply at him, and not in the “ha-ha this is funny” way. “Family…Marisa is my family.” I sigh before whispering, “Marisa is my world. She is the most important thing I have ever done and ever will do.”

“You’re a damn good mom, and you can take that from someone who was raised by a damn good momma.” He looks to the ceiling, and something passes across his features, making me curious about
his mom. “Who is holding you up, though?”

“My mom is dead, and my dad was her pimp.” His eyes grow big at my admission. “Big Daddy Pimp, who freely handed us over to Monte. He was nothing more than a sperm donor.”

Morrison says nothing, only sets his face firmly in a scowl, making his features harden to a point that I can see even in the darkened room.

“Call me Orphan Annie, ’cause, baby, I
got no one but the family I made with Ris Priss,” I try to joke to lighten the mood.

“I’m sorry,” he says as he laces our hands together.

“Don’t.” I push the tears back. “Don’t you dare fucking pity me, Morrison Caldwell! We play the hand we’re dealt in life until the last card hits the felt.”

“I don’t pity you, Hailey. I just…I just…”

“You just wanna make it all better. Well, Morrison, the
truth is, my life is hard knocks. You’re trying to give me hope in a situation that’s hopeless, in a life that’s hopeless. I keep telling myself I can do better for me and for Marisa, but I don’t know if I believe it anymore. It’s best if you get away now so I don’t drag you down with me. I’ll see my way through somehow. I always do.” I start to tense as the wine quickly wears off now that we are
in deep, emotional territory.

Sensing this, reading me, Morrison pulls me against him, laying me half over his chest. Then he strokes my hair while I listen to the steady thump of his heart, relaxing once again.

“You are the strongest woman I have ever known, outside of my mother. I once made a promise to be the good in a world of bad. Hailey, let me give you good.”

I start to sit up to look
at him, but he keeps me in place, dropping a quick kiss on the top of my head.

“Sleep, Hailey. No more hard knocks—just good. Sleep on that.”

I want to argue. I want to…I don’t know. I just want to yell, throw something, and tell him, “If only it were that easy.” Yet, I don’t. Instead, I find myself listening to the beat of his heart as I drift into a sound and peaceful sleep that I have never
before experienced in my entire life.

She is finally asleep. Finally.

As a child, I saw my mother cry. I saw it a few times, actually. Every time I asked what was wrong, she froze up and told me everything would be fine. She would comfort me. As I grew older, I no longer had to ask.

By the age of seven, I remember knowing exactly what was wrong. I remember hearing him berate and degrade her. I remember Hendrix
pacing and looking like he wanted to escape the little shit box of a room where all three of us slept. It was in the back corner of the apartment and the smallest room, but I don’t remember the old man’s drunk ass making it back there more than once, maybe twice.

Momma tucked us away, figuring she could protect us back there.

In her weakest moment, she told me everything about her life, her
mother, how she was raised, and what she had been through.

Hailey. Holy fucking conundrum, Batman! This chick’s life has been a whole different level of hell than Momma’s. No physical abuse—well, not anything like Momma’s, anyway.

To feel like you were owned and somehow owed the rest of your life to some piece of shit who reminded you every day that he possessed you, that shit right there strips
your pride, your confidence, and any fucking hope that a human being could have. And, regardless of what Momma and us boys endured, we at least had hope. Hope is the single strongest feeling you can have. Hope doesn’t go away. It may hide, like right now, but it comes back with a vengeance.

Hailey said she has none, and I couldn’t tell her she was wrong; I could only listen. She was wrong, though.
She has hope—hope for her daughter. And, if she could only see that, she would be well on her way to healing, to overcoming the shit storm her life is.

In the dark of night, her body trembles, and she starts making these little noises, almost silent sobs, as she lies against my chest. I pull her tighter, and they go away.

God, it feels good to know I can do that for her.

I wish someone could
have done that for Momma.

She was right, though: Monte is a snake. I played against him in one of the underground tourneys around Vegas, kicked his ass, and walked away with enough money to buy this place. For a week, I watched my back, because he and his goons were everywhere. I didn’t change shit in how I went about my day, but right then and there, I decided I wouldn’t play in that circuit
again.

As much as I love the thrill of the game, I love my face and my possessions more, and I didn’t want either to get fucked up. Let’s face it; I’m not Jackie fucking Chan, but going toe to toe, I could wipe the floor with anyone I want. Hell, the old man whupped the shit out of me, and I let him. Why? Because it pissed him off that I was stronger than he was, and it taught me to fear no man.
Pain is nothing.

But I’m not fucking stupid, either.

If my brothers were here, I could tear shit up and know Monte and his goons wouldn’t have a chance. However, holding her still trembling body, I know damn well logic and reason would be compromised by the worry and fear that he would take away her hope, in the form of that cute-as-hell little chick who is sleeping in the spare bedroom.

When
I have my lightbulb moment, finally figuring it out, I laugh, and she stirs, but after a few seconds she settles back into her slumber.

I wake when the sun starts to peek in the window. As I move out from under her, she opens her eyes.

“You should go slide in bed with the little one, get some more sleep.”

“Are you leaving?” She sits up and stretches.

“No, just need to do a few things.”

“Okay.”
She gets up and stretches again, lifting the shirt so I am seeing little lacy bottoms.

“Hey, Slick”—she snaps her fingers—“eyes up here.”

“Busted.” I smirk.

“Yeah, well, thank you for last night, for yesterday, for helping us out.”

“My pleasure. Now go get in bed.” The way that comes out mirrors the nasty little thoughts traveling around in my head. I shrug and she rolls her eyes. “Sorry,
babe. You just look so damn tasty right now. You need to go before I stop being such a damn gentleman and—”

“Morrison,” she stops me. “I really do appreciate it.”

“I know. Now go.”

The funny thing about appreciation is that it doesn’t get you laid.

I jump in the shower and look down at my dick. “Been a long time since the two of us have been intimate; years, actually. But here’s the drill”—I
wrap my hand around myself—“that girl out there, the one who has you standing at attention and peeking out of my pants, begging to get inside of her…Well, she’s had it rough. Now simmer down. It’s not the kind of ‘rough’ you like. She sees you and me as a job.

“Now I know,” I say, stroking faster, “she didn’t act like that before, but with knowledge comes responsibility. So you and I are gonna
get to know each other as well as we did at sixteen years old, ’cause the next time I’m up in that, and you’re seeing platinum up close and personal, Betty Badass out there is gonna have begged for it. She’s gonna know you and I are not a job, a payment, or an obligation, but a gift.” I close my eyes and think of that fine, fine ass I am going all crazy over and pump myself harder, faster. “I promise
you this,” I grunt out. “There is no way in hell I’m letting go of platinum.”

“What do you mean, Detroit?”

I push her hand back at her. “Look at the tickets. We’re heading out in a couple hours, just for a little while, long enough for this to blow over.”

“There is a tournament this weekend, and I can win it, Morrison. I can win it and pay him off!”

“You need to think about that real hard.”
I look over at Marisa, who is sitting on my leather couch with a bowl of grapes, wearing my wireless Bose headphones and singing along to some cartoon show.

“Do you like
Sofia the Firs
?” she yells when she sees me looking at her.

I smile and nod my head, even though I have no fucking clue what she is talking about. And I am sure she’s gonna spill those sticky-ass grapes all over my couch, but
I’m okay with it. I am, dammit.

“Did you hear me?”

I look back at Hailey, who is scowling at me, and I shake my head. “Unless it’s ‘Morrison, I know you’re right, because last night I admitted nothing is more important than the little singing chick on your couch, and I am just so fucking st—’ ”

“Watch your mouth in front of her,” she scolds.

“She can’t hear me.” I laugh. “No more hustle, Hailey.”

“I have to keep her safe.”

“Well, that means
you
have to be safe. Who does she have without you?” Yes, I am laying it on thick, but that fucking wall of hers looks much better crumbled on the ground at her feet.

“You just want to own me, fuck me—”

“Watch your mouth in front of her,” I throw her words back at her, and she scowls again but says nothing. “Here’s another thing you need to stew
about: I’m not gonna touch you, and I don’t want to own you. I want to do something right. I made a promise to a woman that I would do good in this fucked-up world, and I have been a selfish prick up until now. So, if you need to keep up this tit-for-tat shit with the checks and balances, add that to the
I
owe
you
side. Now get that fine little ass in there and pack up a couple suitcases so we
don’t miss our flight.”

She doesn’t move.

“Little momma, don’t make me say it again.”

We pull up in front of Hendrix’s place in a cab, and Marisa looks out the window. “It’s green here.”

“It sure is.” I get out and snatch up the little chick because, honestly, I’m thinking Hailey might slam the door and lock it before telling the cabdriver to pull out and take her away from here.

I keep
Marisa in one arm and grab bags out of the trunk with the cabbie. Then I pay him and watch as Hailey glances around skeptically.

“Look what the cat dragged in.” I look behind me as the garage door opens to see Hendrix, Jagger, and Livi walking toward us.

“Surprise.” I laugh. “Marisa, these two clowns are my brothers, Hendrix and Jagger, and this here is Livi, my sister-in-law.”

She wiggles
out of my arms and does a little princess curtsy. “How do you do?”

“Little chick, they’re just people like us; save that sh—” Hailey elbows me. “Oops, my bad. Save that stuff for the queen.” I start introducing Hailey. “This is my…um…my…”

“I’m Hailey, a friend of Morrison’s.” She reaches out and shakes their hands.

“We’re gonna grab the SUV,” I say, “head down the road, find a place to stay,
and—”

“Nonsense, you’ll stay here.” Livi crouches down and smiles at Marisa. “You don’t want to stay at a stuffy old hotel, do you?”

She smiles and shrugs.

“We have plenty of room here.”

“Livi”—Hendrix wraps his arm around her waist—“they’re more than welcome to stay, but if they don’t want to—”

“What do you say, Hailey?” I ask. “Wanna crash here for a couple of days?”

“That would be very
nice. Thank you,” she replies timidly, still taking everything in.

“Good. Now the guys can grab the bags and us girls will go find Marisa a room. It’s late; you must be tired,” Livi says, standing and smiling at Hailey.

“Nope.” Marisa smiles and takes both Hailey’s and Livi’s hands.

Once inside the garage, I look at my brothers. “Don’t judge me. Yeah, I should have called, but there wasn’t
time, and I wasn’t sure she was gonna come.”

“She your girl?” Hendrix asks.

“She’s fucking hot.” Jagger winks at me.

“She’s a friend who is in trouble with her soon-to-be-ex-husband, scum-of-the-earth, Vegas loan shark. He thinks she owes him something and threatened to take the kid. Ain’t happening on my watch.”

“Why you watchin’ if you ain’t tappin’?” Jagger asks.

“Respect, Jag,” Hendrix
warns.

“Random hookup; didn’t even know she has a kid.”

“You okay with that?” Jagger asks.

“Hottest piece of ass I’ve ever had. Shit’s platinum. I might have a problem.”

“Problem?” Hendrix questions.

“Yeah. She’s stubborn, has walls as high as the sun. Thinks she has to keep things even, afraid to owe someone. Same way with sex; she insists on giving as good as she gets.”

“Where’s the problem
in that?” Jag questions, then laughs.

Hendrix and I both just look at him.

“Okay, fine, we don’t give it like that.” He nods.

“We give it better,” I say as I pat him on the back. “I’m starving. Let’s go up, and I’ll order dinner.”

Dinner is fun. Marisa loves the pizza and entertains us all. That kid is young enough that she doesn’t show any battle wounds. She is gonna break this damn cycle.
Why? Because her momma is so damn strong and loves her so damn much she is going to make it happen.

Hailey is quiet, very quiet. I can’t even count the amount of times I see her look at the door like she wants to run. I’m not the only one who notices it, either. My brothers and Livi see that shit, too.

Marisa picks the room none of us have ever slept in, the room Hendrix had set up with Momma
in mind. A room Momma never once stayed in.

After Hailey gives Marisa a bath, the two of them thank everyone, then go to bed.

Hendrix heads back to the bar to close up, and Jag says he is out to hit up the gym. It’s late; I’m sure he is hitting something, but my guess is that it won’t just be the gym.

“Things sure change in the blink of an eye,” Livi says as she wipes down the coffee table
where we all ate.

“She’s a good girl, just needed a break.”

“You’re a good man, Morrison. All of you are. But please do me a favor?”

“Anything, you know that.”

“Don’t let Hailey fall if you aren’t strong enough to hold them both up. And don’t forget about how important that little girl is, if you and her mom do end up together. Remember, she was there by her mom’s side first. And don’t
you
fall if you don’t think Hailey can return the love that I know you’re capable of giving.”

“Listen, Livi, I’m not even gonna touch that again.” I nudge her playfully.

“Uh-huh. I’m serious, Morrison. You deserve to be happy, too. She is so vulnerable and scared, and you can’t—”

“Liv, I was raised by a woman who was strong enough to stay. I will never put a woman in a position like that. I’m gonna
help her gain her freedom. That’s all she wants for herself and that little girl.”

In the morning, I wake up early and walk out of my room to find Hailey just standing there, looking around. I stop and watch her, wanting to know what she’s thinking. In her eyes, I see a lost look. In fact, she looks not only lost, but as if she feels caged.

I don’t want her to get the wrong idea about why I’m
watching her.

“Morning,” I say as I walk past her. “Coffee?”

“Um…I…um…”

“You take it black?”

“I need to find a grocery store.”

“Okay. But until then—”

“Do you come here a lot?” she cuts me off. “You have a room. Do you—”

“I stay in Vegas until I make enough to come home for a while. Then I hang with my family. If I wanna work, I work at the bar. Hendrix owns a place down the road.”

“I
need to—”

“Whatever you need, we’ll get it.”

“I need a job,” she blurts out.

“Done,” I hear Hendrix say as he comes bounding down the stairs. “Caught one of my girls doing lines when I went to grab the bank bag last night. Shit’s not happening at Caldwell’s. If you’re clean and want a job, it’s yours. Livi or I can train you—”

“She worked—” I interrupt him.

“I have experience,” she cuts me
off. “I worked as a cocktail waitress in Vegas, even filled in when the bartenders needed a break.”

“Tap beer and shots at my place,” Hendrix says.

“I can’t start tonight. I need to find child care.” I see her eyes shifting wildly as if she’s trying to figure things out all by her goddamned self. I fucking hate that.

“Trust me to watch her?” I ask.

“As if I have a choice,” she mumbles.

I
head toward the bathroom before I say some shit I can’t take back, but I stop when I hear her speak.