Dirty Sexy Saint (Dirty Sexy #1)(56)

“Chances are he’s going to show up here,” Clay muttered.

“Then tell him you have to pick up the cash and will meet him somewhere neutral. Then call me with the details.” Levi pinned him with a direct look, a distinct warning in his gaze. “Once that’s done, you need to keep your ass here until we confirm we have Wyatt in custody, got it?”

“Got it.” Clay wasn’t going to do anything to jeopardize Wyatt’s arrest.

“Good,” Levi said, then pushed back his chair to stand and grinned. “Then my work here is done.”

Clay walked his brother to the front entrance, let him out, then locked up after him since the bar didn’t open for another two hours. He was halfway to his office when he heard a loud knock. Assuming Levi forgot to tell him something important, he returned and pulled the door open.


He was surprised to find a young, well-dressed man standing on the other side, appearing extremely nervous, his gaze darting up and down the deserted street. The guy looked as if he was making sure he wasn’t about to get mugged. He clearly wasn’t a Kincaid’s regular. Everything about him was neat and orderly and wealthy-looking, from his short, styled hair to his immaculately pressed gray suit, all the way down to his polished leather shoes.

He was obviously on the wrong side of town, and even though Clay didn’t discriminate, the bar was closed. “Sorry, but the place doesn’t open until four,” he told the other guy.

The man gave another surreptitious look around—which Clay found extremely amusing—before meeting Clay’s gaze. “Actually, I’m here to speak with Clay Kincaid.”

Huh. “That would be me,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

The guy shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “Do you mind if I come in for a few minutes?”

Clay couldn’t imagine what kind of business this dude had with him, but he noticed that he was carrying a thick manila envelope, and Clay was curious to know what he wanted. “Yeah, sure.”

He stepped aside to let him in, then led the way into the main area, not missing the way the man’s gaze took in the well-used bar, not so much in distaste but, rather, with a surprising amount of interest.

“So, what can I do for you, Mr.…” Clay deliberately let the words trail off, which prompted an introduction.

“Blackwell,” the guy said, though he didn’t offer his hand to shake. “Harrison Blackwell.”

Shock rendered Clay speechless as he stared at the other man—the perfect, wealthy, well-bred man who would most likely marry the woman Clay loved. He felt as though he’d been sucker-punched in the stomach and swallowed back an anguished groan.

A wry smile touched the corner of Harrison’s mouth. “So, Samantha told you about me,” he said, though there was no animosity or ill will in the other man’s tone, just an odd acceptance that Clay didn’t quite understand.

“She did.” And if Harrison was here now, then that meant Samantha must have told the other guy about him, and Clay wasn’t sure what to think about that. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m here to deliver a package.” Harrison lifted the fat envelope he was holding, though he didn’t hand it over just yet. “And I wanted to meet the man who Samantha gave up her new, independent life for.”

Clay frowned in confusion. “Excuse me?” What the f*ck was the guy talking about?

Harrison laughed and shook his head. “She didn’t tell you, did she?”

“Tell me what?” he demanded irritably, damn close to shaking the words out of the man.

“She returned home in exchange for fifty thousand dollars delivered directly to you, in cash.”

Because she believed he needed the money to pay off Wyatt, Clay realized. “And what strings were included in the exchange?” he asked impatiently through gritted teeth. Because Clay knew, without a doubt, her father had demanded blood in return.

“Samantha called her father yesterday and told him she needed money immediately, that you were in trouble and she wanted to help,” Harrison said, looking him in the eye as he set the padded envelope of money on the table next to where they were standing. “And Conrad Jamieson, as you already surmised, struck a bargain with his own daughter. Her return home and agreement to marry me, in exchange for giving you fifty grand.”

What. The. Hell? Her father had bribed and blackmailed her.

Clay felt so dizzy he nearly dropped to his knees as another realization struck him. Samantha hadn’t gone back home because she was scared and no longer wanted to be with him. No, she’d sold her soul to her father to make sure Clay had the money to pay Wyatt. She’d done it for him, selflessly walking away from this new life she’d painstakingly created for herself, and giving up her dream of being a pastry chef, in order to ensure he was safe and protected.

How could he have been so blind not to have seen her actions for himself?

Harrison must have recognized Clay’s stunned expression because he continued on, his tone softer. “The thing is, we’ve known all along where Samantha has been. The night she left, Conrad called the security firm he keeps on retainer and made sure they found out exactly where she was. They updated Conrad with daily reports, and when she ended up staying here with you, he was provided with a full background report on you, as well.”