Leverage - Part 3

He held her gaze, not afraid to make this promise. “I give you my word. In my world, a man's word means something.”

Her gaze was reproachful as she said, “Stop being so good. I can't take it.”

He dared much but he gently pulled her in his arms. “It's what you deserve so get used to it.”

She buried her face against his chest and he knew his heart was involved as much as he knew it wasn't wise but Julianna needed him and he would do everything in his power to erase the pain Boston Kincade had inflicted.

That was a promise.

#

Boston arrived in California and went directly to his office. In spite of the long flight and being exhausted both emotionally and physically all he wanted to do was bury himself in work. And if he was working, so was Richard. He was on autopilot, answering emails and sifting through mail when Richard walked in with a frown on his weathered face. “What are you doing here?” he asked, irritated and grumpy that Boston had roused him from his bed to come down to the office. “What couldn't have waited until the morning?”

“I need you to set up an account for Julianna, one that I can monitor and have access to. Also, I need you to get her set up on the company benefits plan. And don't let them give you any bullshit about pre-existing conditions. I don't care what you have to pay to make it happen — just make sure she has good benefits. I don't want her going to some third world country medical clinic for her pregnancy needs.”

“I take it you left her behind in the Caribbean,” Richard said dryly, surmising, “Things didn't go very smoothly?”

Boston ignored Richard's question. “I also want you to make sure that her brother’s needs are taken care of so she doesn't have to worry about it. I don't want her to have to worry about anything, do you hear me? I don't want her stressed.”

Richard sighed. “I fail to see why this couldn't have waited until morning.”

Boston slammed his fist down on the desk, his temper fraying. “Because I didn't want to wait until morning damn it! Just do it.”

Richard, unaffected by Boston's outburst, leveled his gaze at his employer. “You know, you always had it in you but the last few years you’ve become a right asshole with a sense of entitlement some so far up your ass that you act like you're the king of England. Well, you're not the King of England, kid. You're the son of a man I deeply respected and called my friend but right now you're just a prick. It's no wonder she didn't want to come back with you. From where I'm standing, you don't deserve her.”

There's only one person in this world who could ever talk to him that way without getting fired or ruined and it was Richard. But it hurt like a Sonofabitch hearing it just the same. And it pissed him off, even if it was all true. “I released her from her contract,” he said dully. “She is no longer obligated to me. I'm going to do my best to be a good co-parent with her.” Adding stiffly, “And I would appreciate it if you wouldn't bust my balls about it.”

“Busting your balls is about the only thing that I find enjoyable these days. Besides, if anyone needed their balls busted it's you. You wonder why I stayed on when your dad died? It was because your dad asked me to look out for you. And so that's what I've been doing all the years but it’s occurred to me that I’ve failed your father because you’ve turned into an entitled jackass.”

“Watch yourself, old man. No one is untouchable. Just because you were drinking buddies with my dad doesn't give you the right—“

“It gives me every right you rotten sonofabitch,” Richard shouted over the top of him. “You had a chance at real happiness. And you did something to fuck it all up. I pity you, Boston. Because somewhere along the line you lost track of what's truly important in life. That young woman is having your baby. And you love her. And yet, you did everything in your power to ruin every good thing in your life. What the hell is wrong with you? Are you so bored with life that you have to manufacture chaos?” He didn't wait for Boston to answer and just threw his hands up in disgust. “Forget about it. I don't care. You want to be a dumbass, be a dumbass on your own time. I'm going back to bed. Don't bug me with your petty bullshit until you get your head on straight.”

And then Richard left. He really didn't give a shit what Boston thought and rightly so. Boston sank back into his chair and leaned back squeezing his eyes shut. What was he doing? One thing was for sure, even if he'd wanted to, there was no fixing what he’d broken. That was sort of the point, wasn't it? No going backward. And no showing weakness.

God, he hated himself so bad right now. Richard was right about one thing — he had no business being at the office right now. Either he needed to go home and go to bed or find someplace to get raging drunk.

Well, he knew there was no way he was going to be able to face his bed — formerly their bed — not yet.

So getting drunk it is.

And there was one place he knew where he could drown his sorrows in complete anonymity with no questions asked.

Malvagio.

-8-

Vince Buchanan just happened to be awake at the ungodly hour of 4 AM when his cell phone went off. Laird, his friend and business partner, was on the other line. Frowning, he picked up. “What's up, Laird? This better be good because it is fucking early.”

“It is early but you're still awake so what difference does it make?” Laird shot back, with a hint of laughter in his voice. The man found the humor in anything. “Why are you still up and not snuggled up to that hot wife of yours?”

“Couldn’t sleep so I started working on the financials for that Swedish investor interested in the club and stop thinking about my hot wife. I’ve answered your question, now answer mine. What's going on? Problem at the club?”

“You could say that. I've got a patron here who won’t leave. Ordinarily, I’d just toss him out and let him find his own way home but he’s a friend of yours and I figured I’d let you decide.” There was a minute pause and then Laird said, “It's Boston Kincaid. And he is a mess.”

Boston? Damn, he hadn't talked to Boston in years. But at one time they’d been tight. “All right, I'll come pick him up. Go put him up in the office.”

“You got it.”

Vince took great care not to wake Emma as he quickly dressed and left the house. Damn, Boston brought back memories. When you're rich and privileged you tend to hang with the same crowd. Boston had been just like the rest of them in some ways but totally different in others. In fact, Boston had been a bit of a goody-two-shoes. Vince had jokingly called him Jiminy Cricket though in later years he'd heard that Boston had changed. Something about a woman but he'd never gotten details. And now the guy was all fucked up and hav

ing a crisis it seemed. Well, if there was one thing Vince knew about it was heading into a tailspin, bent on destruction.

He let himself in through the back door and bounded up the steps to the private office that now Laird occupied. Vince and Laird were business partners but he'd long since handed the day-to-day operations over to his friend because he was trying to lead a respectable life and hanging around a notorious, ultra private sex club wasn’t exactly conducive to remaining monogamous. Trying to was the operative word. He didn't sleep around — no one could compare to his Emma — but Malvagio was a habit that was hard to quit. Where else could someone enjoy the freak show of human nature without getting their hands dirty? Emma knew he wasn’t messing around but he always got that “look” when he told her was going to drop by the club. He understood why Emma hated the club — long story — which was why he was looking for a buyer but until then, he had to make sure things still ran smoothly. Opening the office door, he found a sloppy drunk Boston sprawled on the leather sofa mumbling to himself and intermittently shouting to no one. He looked to Laird with an amused smirk. “Damn, you weren’t lying. He's all fucked up.” Then he gestured to the prone man. “Gimme a hand putting him in the car.”

Laird nodded and the two hefted the man's dead weight, grunting with the effort. “Dude could stand to lose a few pounds,” Laird grunted. “Lay off the carbs, you know what I mean?”

“Let's just get him into the car,” Vince said as they practically dragged Boston out of the club. Once buckled into the passenger seat Boston groaned and mumbled a name but it was nearly unintelligible. It was going to be a long night.

“When did he arrive at the club?” Vince asked.

“According to the stub, he got there around 11 p.m. and he started drinking the minute he walked through the door.”

“Did he come alone?”

“Yeah and he wasn't interested in any of the girls either. It seemed as if he just wanted to get pissed drunk and nothing else mattered.”