Order (Tattoos and Ties Duet #2)(84)
“The secrecy is because I’m with the Dallas district attorney’s office or I was with the DA’s office—my last day is December fifteenth,” he explained, watching Clyde’s eyes go wide and the motion of the rocking chair coming to a sudden stop.
“You’re kidding me, right?” Clyde said, his tone clear that he found no humor in what was being said. Key’s uncle grew immediately defensive, and although Alec loved the protectiveness, he didn’t like all the skepticism now directed his way.
“We’ve been very careful to keep our relationship hidden,” he started before Key cut him off.
“He’s worried about what happens if the club finds out.” Key tried to explain Clyde’s reaction and concern to him. Alec wasn’t entirely sure that was Clyde’s primary concern, but the gentle sweep of Key’s thumb sliding over the back of his hand helped calm him.
“As I should be,” Clyde said, his eyes hard with concern.
Key suddenly got up off the sofa and walked over to his uncle, lifting Nash. “He’s on a schedule. I’ll take him out. Y’all talk so you can quit givin’ each other all those weird looks.” Key carefully cradled Nash in his arms as he walked to the front door. He turned and looked back over his shoulder at Alec. “Might as well tell him who your old man is. I guess get it all out now. Clyde’s trustworthy.”
The front door shut behind Key, and Alec stared at Clyde who got to his feet. He walked across the living room to the liquor cabinet. After pouring and drinking down a hearty sized drink, he turned to Alec and lifted the bottle. Good idea. Alec nodded and got to his feet too.
“I have to admit, I was nervous coming here.”
“I’m nervous now that you’re here,” Clyde said, handing a cocktail glass over with a shot or two of straight whiskey. “So, who’s your father? The Dallas chief of police?”
“It doesn’t matter who my family is. We have no real relationship to speak of. They’re a non-factor in any of this. They’ll never know Key. As it turns out, I’m a huge disappointment to them,” Alec explained, swallowing a gulp of the whiskey, reveling in the burn.
They stared at one another for several long seconds before Clyde nodded, accepting his answer. Thank God. He might have given the older man a heart attack if he knew the truth.
“My nephew’s a great guy. Turned out that way despite all the crap thrown at him. God knows I worried. But he’s smart. He’s a motorcycle mechanic, first in his class. He rebuilds bikes, and they’re beautiful pieces of artistry. I don’t think anyone in that club understands how talented he is or they would never have him changing tires for a living. He’s dedicated to those bikers. I think more than they are to him. You’d be just the excuse they needed to hurt him,” Clyde said honestly, fear in his tone.
“He’s told me it would be rough, but he’s been more worried about me than himself,” Alec said, taking another drink of his whiskey.
“They harbor immense hate for people like you. They believe the law’s out to get them. That there should be no consequences for their actions, even though they’re the ones breaking the law. If they think you’re getting in their way, you might not survive,” Clyde added solemnly and turned to pour himself another drink.
“I’m trying to remove the obstacles in our way. I’ve quit the DA’s office—I only stayed this long because of Key. I’ve accepted another position as head legal counsel for Reed Kensington’s Arik Layne Properties account. He owns the Escape Resort properties, and the headquarters are local,” Alec explained, wanting to help ease Clyde’s fears or at least let the man know how seriously Alec took Key’s welfare. “I want us to move out to Westlake together.”
“What does Key have to say about that?” Clyde asked as he downed the amber liquid he’d just poured.
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing,” he answered, after realizing the truth to Clyde’s answer.
“Alec, you understand what you’re dealing with, right?” Clyde asked, placing his glass on the small bar top.
“I understand Key. I know he’s a good and caring man. Perhaps a little rough around the edges, but a good man—better than most.”
“That didn’t come easy for him. When I found him, he was barely in school, close to living on the streets even though he technically lived with his father,” Clyde explained, his expression growing hard as he stared unseeingly at Alec.
“He’s told me you were responsible for getting him through school and you pushed him to get his mechanics license. He gives you credit for all his successes.” Alec watched Clyde grow more agitated. The man paced the small room. The silence thickened, and he could sense Key’s uncle held back everything he wanted to say. He stood in his spot and watched as the other man worked through his demons with another long pause. Alec had no idea what to do or say to ease the heaviness hanging between them. Then Clyde suddenly turned back to Alec and gave him a hard stare.
“The first time he spent the night here in this house— No, let me go further back. I’d given Key a phone in case of an emergency. He kept it hidden from his father. One night that sorry man had beaten Key up pretty badly and kicked him out of the house. Keyes called me. I picked him up. He was about ten years old at the time. That night, I heard the front door open about three o’clock in the morning. Thought it might be a burglar so I got out of bed to check it out. I found Keyes outside. His clothes were wet. He’d had an accident in the bed during the middle of the night. I felt so sorry for him. He looked so young and scared, so lost. See, ever since he was a small boy, he had wet the bed, and when that happened, no matter the time of year, he was put outside for the remainder of the night. And bless his little soul, that child believed that being shoved outside was a normal punishment for having an accident in bed. That broke my heart,” Clyde explained, disgust and pain clear on his face.