Page 42 of Double Bucked

After the hell her father put her through, hasn’t she earned a little…cream off the top?

But his ears must be itching because out of the dark, I hear?—

“Riley Ransom.”

I startle. I lose my grip and drop the vial.

And just like that, fifty thousand dollars spills out over my boot.

But even that doesn’t compare to the dread I feel when my gaze meets Mr. Preacher’s cold, gray eyes.

He stares at me, unmoved. The lantern light flickers like flames around his face.

“My office,” he says, his voice low and firm. “Now.”

The grandfather clock clicks. Its pendulum swings back and forth like a bad omen.

Mr. Preacher and I sit in silence otherwise. My heart is pounding like a jackhammer in my ear, and my leg won’t stop shaking. I latch my fingers together to keep them from trembling.

“Listen,” I start. “What you saw, it wasn’t?—”

“I have a panic button,” he interrupts. “Underneath my desk. If I press it, Deputy Holden will be here before you can get out of that chair.”

I swallow a lump the size of an ostrich egg.

All I can think about is Claire. Claire in the airport. Claire clutching the handle of her bag. Claire all alone. Waiting for me.

I cast my eyes to the floor. They land on the dark, shameful stain on my boot.

This much anxiety can make a man sick.

His dark voice carries through my cloud of fear. “Or we can strike a deal.”

I lift my head. Those gray eyes don’t move an inch.

“What kinda deal?”

I’m trying not to sound too hopeful, but Jesus H. Christ, I need a Hail Mary right now if I’m ever going to see Claire again.

If she’ll ever want to see me again after all this.

“I know all about Paris,” he says evenly. “She purchased the tickets on my card, after all. I learned long ago that I can’t control Claire. If she wants to leave, she’ll leave. There’s nothing I can do to stop her. But I’ll be damned if she runs away with a useless degenerate like you.”

Rage loosens the knot in my throat. “That ain’t fair.”

“There are two people in this world, Ransom. Winners and losers. My Claire is a winner. Can you guess which you are?”

“I love her, sir.” I can hear the shake in my voice, but I can’t stop it. My heart is bleeding all over his perfect oriental carpet. “I’ll do whatever it takes to spend the rest of my life taking care of her. You can be damned sure of that.”

“You couldn’t successfully steal sperm off a fake horse. What makes you think you could take care of my Claire?”

My Claire.

And just like that, it’s like a cold splash of water in the face.

What the hell am I doing?

I don’t need this. I don’t need to sit here and take this from him. Claire is waiting for me—my Claire, not his—and Paris might not be perfect, but hell, she’s right.

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