Redeeming (Red Lips & White Lies Book 2)

Leo

At what age is someone considered a cougar?

Killian

Like a cat?

Leo

Like a woman, shithead.

Hendrix

Thirty.

Callen

The fuck? I’m twenty-eight.

Hendrix

Old man.

Maddox

Have your balls even dropped yet?

Nixon

Think he may have gotten his first pube hair this summer.

Callen

Aww. Did it scare you?

Hendrix

Dude. What the hell? Leo’s the one fucking an old chick.

Leo

Thinking about it. And she’s not that old.

Killian

Like older than thirty? Cause I banged a forty-year-old last year, and that woman knew exactly what she needed and how to get it. None of that quiet shit either.

It didn’t hurt that she had great tits and was all kinds of bendy too.

Leo

What stopped you?

Killian

Her husband.

Maddox

That’ll do it.

Iwalk Cait out of the building the next morning with my hand on the small of her back and catch the look Jude gives me as I drop it once we’re through the doors.

“Ignore him,” she whispers, but I’m pretty sure that’s a bad move.

Not that there’s anything I can do about it but watch her get into the back of his SUV before I head to practice. At least I’ll get to hit something . . .

Hours later, after practice is over and my body is tired and sore, I make the mistake of forgetting about the morning.

About the peace before we got out of bed.

About the feel of her in my arms.

About the look in Jude’s eye before she got into the car.

I forgot about it all as I cleared my mind and focused on prepping for tomorrow.

That is, until I walk out to the parking lot of the practice facility and see the black, tinted-out SUV sitting next to my truck. I know that car. And it’s no surprise when the window rolls down and Sam Beneventi stares back at me with cold calculating eyes.

“Get in the car,” he bites out, and I realize I’m no longer looking at my best friend’s dad.

This isn’t the same guy who used to throw us in the pool.

Right now, in this moment, I’m looking at the head of the Philadelphia Mafia.

“I’m supposed to be meeting someone,” I answer, knowing my siblings are going to be waiting for me at Dad’s house so they can fill us in on what the doctors said this afternoon. But Sam doesn’t look like he gives two shits about what I’m supposed to be doing.

“My daughter?” he asks pointedly.

Fucking Jude.

“Get in the car,” he says again, and if it’s possible, this time he sounds more pissed off. Fucking fantastic.

I toss my bag in the back of my truck and get in his car, knowing this isn’t going to be good.

It’s just him and me and his driver.

“Where to, boss?” the driver asks.

“Just drive. I’ll let you know when we’re done,” Sam tells him calmly, like he’s not about to kill me.

I guess that’s a good thing.

He pulls a folder out of his bag and tosses it my way. “Do you love my daughter, Callen?”

“What the fuck, Sam?” I do a shit job of hiding my anger. “How about you let me tell your daughter that before I tell you?”

He nods, silently assessing me, then reaches over and opens the folder, clearly pissed off at my lack of an answer.

A picture of Caitlin and me walking the streets of Chestnut Hill last night sits on top of the pile. I flip through, and the next is one of us at dinner, then us walking back to the car . . . and one of us this morning.

What the actual fuck?

“You’re having her followed?” I growl, not caring that this is her father or that he’s probably killed men for less. She’s going to flip her shit when she finds out.

“I’m not,” he answers calmly, and my brain fucking hurts as I try to put two and two together. But right now, it’s not equaling four.

I close the folder and toss it back to him. Over this already. “You want to spell it out for me then? Because I’m not going to stop seeing her. Not now. Not unless that’s what she wants. And maybe you should talk to her because I’m telling you that’s not what she fucking wants.”

Maybe I should be scared, but I’m not. I’m pissed.

I was ready to fight with Maddox.

I was ready for him to tell me I’m not good enough for her.

This came out of left field, and none of it’s making sense.

“If you were anyone else, I’d deal with this differently, Callen. If you were just some stupid little shit who hadn’t looked out for Caitlin her whole life, I’d force your fucking hand before I’d break it for touching what doesn’t belong to you. If you were any other dumb fuck, you wouldn’t be in this car testing my fucking patience because I wouldn’t give a single shit about removing you from her life. But you’re not anyone else. I’ve watched you grow up. I know your parents. I was at your fucking baptism. I watched the way she’s looked at you whenever you were in the same room for years. And I’ve seen the way you looked at her when you thought no one was paying attention.”

I open my mouth but shut it when Sam glares.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, especially with your reputation, but I know you. Probably better than you know yourself. Believe it or not, I’ve been you. And I know you think you’re being careful. But those pictures say otherwise. And Caitlin can’t afford that. Not right now. She can’t afford careless. She can’t afford public.”

I hold Sam’s controlled glare, refusing to back down. “I’m not trying to be a disrespectful asshole, Sam. But honest to God, I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.”

I’m not stupid, but I’m not wrapping my head around whatever he’s trying to get at either, and the sinking feeling in my gut says it’s worse than I think.

“There are things happening in this city. My fucking city, Callen. Things I’m working on. Things you can’t know about, and you can’t be involved in. Things I’m going to fix.”

He runs a hand down his face, I think disgusted with himself . . . for what—I have no fucking clue. But frustration and stress hang heavy in the air, hand in hand, clinging to us both.

I have no clue what I’m supposed to say or do, so I listen and try to read the situation.

Try to zero in on whatever he’s attempting to say but doing a shit job expressing.

“Are you telling me Cait’s in danger?” Sam’s face changes, and my whole fucking world stops spinning as my body goes rigid. “What the hell is going on and why doesn’t she know about it?”

“Because I have it under control. At least I did before you stepped into the picture,” he snaps, unnervingly calm. “I didn’t take those pictures. The Kroydon Kronicles did. Lucky for me and for you, I’ve got friends everywhere, and money shuts most people up. But this can’t happen again.”

“What can’t?” I ask, not following again. Is he talking about us, or the Kronicles, or the danger in the damn city? “Swear to God, Sam. It’s like you’re giving me half a conversation.”

He shakes his head and shoves the folder back in his bag. “You are too high-profile, Callen. The local media loves you. The national media loves you. You make headlines, and Caitlin can’t be in the headlines right now. It’s not safe.”

He waits, probably gauging whether or not I’m following him, but I just sit, taking it in as he tells me this woman I’ve finally let myself love isn’t safe.

“You make Caitlin not safe . . . Do you understand?”

I crack my neck, pissed at him for the life he lives and at myself for being any part of the reason she’s not safe. “Spell it out for me,” I say as calmly as I can with rage coursing unchecked through my veins.

“If you love my daughter the way I think you do. The way I think you always have . . . you need to break it off. Now. Completely. No secret touches. Not hiding it from anyone.” His eyes darken as he grinds his teeth. “That includes her brother. Break. It. Off. Without any fanfare or drama. Don’t give anyone any reason to talk. Don’t make her the center of the gossip rags. This matters, Callen.”

“You sure this isn’t just you trying to control the man she ends up with? Because I’m telling you that’s me, Sam. One way or another, it’s me.” I refuse to accept this is it. I didn’t just get her to turn around and give her up. Not now. Not fucking ever.

“The fact you have the balls to say that to my face is incredibly stupid but incredibly impressive. And I hope one day, if that’s what she wants, it’s what she’ll have. But son, I’m telling you you’re too high-profile, and the press hasn’t even gotten wind of what’s happening with your father. Once he announces his retirement, they’re going to be swarming. And that’s before they find out the rest.” He says it so matter-of-factly, with no care to the way his words just sliced or the fact he’s not even supposed to know it in the first place.

“How do you even know?” I ask before I think better, and he laughs.

Fucking laughs.

“I know everything, Callen. And if I know, other people are going to know.”

“Fuck you, Sam.”

He nods slowly as a vein in his temple pulses. “I’m going to give you that one because I would have said the same thing to anyone who tried to keep me away from Amelia. But here’s the difference between you and me, Sinclair. I’d have killed the bastard. You’re not me. Be fucking grateful. I’m the man who keeps the monsters at bay because I’m the bigger fucking monster. Now shut the fuck up and do as I say so I don’t have to get nasty—because Callen, you’ve never seen that side of me, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

I try to absorb everything he’s telling me while every inch of me wants to reject every fucking word but knowing I can’t.

He’s keeping her safe and asking me to do the same thing.

The only thing.

Because Caitlin not being safe isn’t an option.

Giving her up is the only way.

Fuck . . .

“Break it off, Callen. Break her heart. Make her hate you, if you have to. And do it because you love her, and you want to keep her safe. I’ll do the rest, but I need you to do this.”

The car pulls to a stop, and I look out the window at my truck.

“How long?” I ask, holding out hope.

“As long as it takes.”

It’s the answer I was expecting but not the one I wanted.

“I’ll do it,” I tell him and open the door. “But so help me fucking God, Sam. If she gets hurt, I’ll be the bigger fucking monster.”