Page 97 of Required Surrender

“Soon…”

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Lachlan

“Goddamn it!” I took another swig of scotch, thumping the glass on my desk. Then I jerked up, letting off a harsh bellow. What the fuck was wrong with me? I’d allowed Lark to believe I hated her or worse. Protecting her. How in God’s name could I do that when she wasn’t right by my side? I hadn’t been thinking clearly, furious about the situation.

I yanked the glass off the desk, tossing back the remaining liquid, my nostrils flaring from the burn against the back of my throat. I deserved no less than pain for the way I’d treated her. The look of surprise then sadness had just about broken me. I was a shithole for allowing her to walk out the door.

My phone remained dark, although I’d called her twice, only once leaving a message. Even then, I’d fumbled over my words, the alcohol I’d consumed registering in my voice. She hadn’t returned my call. Why would she? I’d all but told her I never wanted to see her again. I glared at the dark screen, itching to try one more time. Why bother? I’d made my choice, albeit the wrong one.

My hand was shaking from the firm grip on the glass. Seconds later, I tossed it across the room, watching as it smashed into two dozen pieces. Then I laughed bitterly, slamming my hands on the wooden surface.

My rage becoming uncontrollable, I swept my arm across the surface, grimacing as my computer, the lamp, my phone, and everything else tumbled to the floor. What did I care about things any longer? Without her nothing meant anything to me. Nothing.

Not a goddamn thing.

I dropped my head, taking gasping breaths.

“What in God’s name are you doing?”

Hearing Jameson’s voice, I snarled before lifting my head. “Back at you, buddy. What the hell are you doing here? I thought you left for Miami.”

“Yeah, I was supposed to but when you didn’t return my call, I had a feeling something was going on. I see I was right.” He walked further into the room, surveying the mess. “What happened?”

“I was too busy.” I hadn’t noticed his call. Maybe I’d blocked it out.

“Uh-huh. You knew what I’d say if you took the call. So fill me in.”

I laughed, stepping over the broken pieces and heading for the bar, grabbing another glass. This wasn’t the time to stop drinking, even though I’d spent the afternoon doing so. What did I care? “Let’s try another visit from the illustrious DC police and the fact I shoved the only woman I’ve ever loved out of my life. Do you want something to drink?”

He didn’t say anything for a few seconds then walked toward me, taking the bottle from my hand. When I tried to snatch it back, he slammed it on the bar. “Stop this pity party bullshit. What happened for her to leave? Did you tell her about Morgan?”

I managed to snag the bottle before he could stop me, not bothering with a glass. After I took a swig, he grabbed it again, shaking his head.

“I will not let you do this to yourself. I’ve been through this with you like you have with me. Liquor isn’t the answer.”

He was right, the words the same shit I’d spouted off when he’d almost put a bullet in his brain.

“I had to tell her. She deserved to know.”

“Yeah, she did. She left because of that?”

“No, because I gave her no choice. I’m worried about her. Really worried.”

“And you let her walk out that door?” Jameson scoffed.

“I already know I’m an asshole. You don’t need to remind me.”

“You are, but not for that. I heard about Davidson. You know it’s all too circumspect.”

I laughed, finding the chutzpa to walk away from my usual crutch. He was right that alcohol only made it worse. As I raked my hand through my disheveled hair, I shifted my thoughts to why Davidson would be killed in the first place. “I do, but I’m not certain what good it’ll do lamenting over it.”

“Well,” he said as he walked closer, staring down at the items on the floor, “for one thing, we can go over those lists you had Anastasia prepare. Did you cross reference them with the one from Club Darkness?”

“I haven’t had time.”

“Then we fucking make the time.”

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