Dirty Sexy Saint (Dirty Sexy 1)

One of those wouldn’t be Samantha. There was no way in fucking hell he’d ever let Wyatt touch her, let alone come near her again. He’d kill the other man or die himself protecting the woman he loved.

His stomach flipped in his belly as the word popped into his head so easily, so quickly, so damned naturally, he grew dizzy. Clay had sworn he didn’t know what love was, let alone what it felt like, yet he understood with certainty that Samantha was the very first woman, the only woman, he wanted in his life. And not just as a temporary diversion.

Shit.

The back delivery door slammed open, and Clay jumped to his feet, his hands instinctively balling into fists to defend himself if he needed to.

“Where the fuck is he?” Mason bellowed like an enraged and reckless bull. He charged into the bar area, followed closely by a more reserved but still clearly worked up Levi, who was in uniform and had his service pistol drawn.

Relief poured through Clay, and he wasn’t at all surprised that his brothers knew who’d been here after Samantha had called them for backup. She’d have his back in any way she could. He only thanked God she’d chosen the safest, smartest route.

“Wyatt’s gone,” he said, confirming what they suspected.

Mason looked around, his expression fierce. “Where’s Samantha?” He demanded. “Is she okay?”

Clay nodded, realizing just how much they’d all come to care for her in such a short time, especially Mason. There were very few people his middle brother was protective of, and Samantha was clearly one of them.

“She was down here when Wyatt came in and saw him at his finest,” he said in disgust.

“Fucking asshole,” Mason said of the man who’d tormented all three of them.

Clay couldn’t argue. “I sent her upstairs as soon as I could.” Once again, he thanked God that she’d listened to him. “I’m assuming she called you.”

“She called Katrina,” Mason muttered. “She insisted on coming with us, so I sent her up to the apartment the back way so Samantha wouldn’t be alone.”

Knowing that she had someone to talk to, to keep her calm, enabled Clay to remain down here with his brothers. “Thanks.”

Levi, still in his quiet, serious mode, secured his weapon back into the holster at his side. “After all these years, what the hell did he want?”

“Money. Fifty grand, to be exact,” Clay told his brothers. “Somehow, he found out I owned the bar. He obviously needs a quick infusion of cash, and he expects to get it from me.”

“Fucker!” Mason smacked a fist into his other palm, the anger and energy vibrating off him nearly palpable. “You should have killed him, Clay. You know I would have helped you bury the body or feed him to the sharks.”

Clay knew that Mason wasn’t joking, but the way Mr. Law Enforcement crossed his arms over his chest and glared at their hotheaded brother told them that killing Wyatt wasn’t an option. Levi was a by-the-book cop all the way.

Mason sneered at Levi. “You’re such a fucking killjoy.”

Levi shrugged. “I’m just trying to keep a pretty boy like you out of prison and from becoming some guy’s bitch.”

Mason huffed out a breath and went to the bar. “I need a goddamn drink.”

Knowing the three of them had a lot to talk about, Clay sat down at one of the tables, and Levi took the seat next to him, his gaze concerned.

“You okay?” Levi asked.

Clay couldn’t believe that just a few weeks ago, he and Levi had had a heated conversation about Wyatt, and now he was back in their lives. How ironic was that?

“I’ll be fine.” It was the best assurance he could give his brother right now, until they figured out a legal way out of this mess.

They waited for Mason to return, and when he did, he had a full bottle of premium bourbon tucked under one arm and was carrying two shot glasses and a drink for Levi in his hands. He set the shot glasses on the table, followed by the liquor, then handed Levi the other glass filled nearly to the brim.

“I thought you could use something stronger than your normal pansy-ass spritzer,” Mason said in a mocking tone. “Orange juice, straight up.”

“Always a comedian, aren’t you?” Levi drawled and downed half the glass in one long gulp while Mason poured the Knob Creek Single Barrel Reserve into the two shot glasses.

Clay tossed back the bourbon the same time that Mason did, then got down to business. “There’s more I need to tell you two.” Both brothers immediately gave him their undivided attention. “Wyatt gave me three days to come up with the cash, and he seemed desperate, so I’m assuming that he’s in some kind of trouble.”

“Yeah, well, he can rot in hell for all I care,” Mason said, already consuming his second shot.