Daring Devlin (Lost Boys #1) - Jessica Lemmon Page 0,46

of his neck, and slammed his face against the living room wall. Framed family pictures rattled from their nail hooks. Paul’s voice rose in warning.

Cade managed to face me, so I pushed my forearm against his windpipe to keep him still.

“This isn’t your fight,” I said, using all my strength to keep him there. “I keep pressing my arm into your throat, you will pass out.”

He stilled. But he was pissed, teeth bared, eyes wild. If I let him go, he’d pummel me. His entire body hummed like a downed power line.

“The money,” I shouted at Paul. “And I’ll leave.”

“You’ve been sucking him dry for years,” Cade managed from his nearly compressed throat.

“I’ll get it. Just let him go.” Paul sounded near tears.

“All of it. Two thousand for Sonny, and then I’m gone for good.”

Paul was silent for a beat before he said, “Five hundred.”

“Dad!” Cade said.

“Looks like Dad’s bartering for you. Not a good sign.”

“You bast—”

I pressed my arm into his neck and watched as his eyes widened. “Tell him the truth, Paul, or I’ll give him brain damage, I swear to God.”

Cade’s bulging eyes darted to his father. I loosened my hold so he’d stay conscious long enough to hear Paul’s confession.

“Paul…” I warned, wedging my knee into Cade’s thigh.

“I haven’t dipped into your money yet,” Paul told his son.

“My money?” Cade croaked.

“I can pay Devlin the two grand, but only if…” His eyes cut to me then Cade. “If I do, I can’t pay for the Chrysler this month.”

“Poor Caden,” I said. “No more free ride.”

Caden tried to kick me so I drew back and socked him in the stomach. He oofed and doubled over at the same time Paul grabbed my arm. I elbowed Paul, catching the underside of his chin. He rolled to the ground, moaning while covering his face.

“Don’t hurt him!” Cade yelled as I tightened my arm over his throat again.

“You have five seconds before I cut off his air supply,” I told Paul.

“Hang on, hang on!” Paul scrambled to his feet. His lip was bleeding. I’d tagged him good.

“The truth!” I shouted.

“Okay! Okay! I’m behind on your car payment two months!” Paul said, and some of the fight went out of Cade. “I borrowed from your college fund to bet on the last game.”

Cade was pre-law. That shit ain’t cheap. Between college and car payment, Paul had known Cade wouldn’t find out about the car until much later.

Cade pushed against my arm, his attention on his father. I let him go. His beef wasn’t with me, but with his old man. It was hard to watch him realize his father had turned into a lowlife, but every man must learn the truth in his own time.

Because pride always came before the fall, I didn’t know Cade had thrown a punch until his fist collided with my kidney.

I crashed to one knee and gasped for breath, gathering my strength so that I could kill Caden Wilson with my bare hands. But the moment I clambered to my feet, Paul shouted five words that stopped me cold.

“Devlin, don’t hurt your brother!”

Chapter Thirteen

Devlin

Oak & Sage was in the wind-down of a Wednesday night. I sat at the bar, slipped my new-hire bartender Matt a hundred dollars, and ordered him to leave the bottle of bourbon unattended.

That was an hour ago.

As far as plans went, this wasn’t a good one. But Wednesday nights were usually dead, so it wasn’t like there was anyone here to set an example for. I didn’t get the money from Paul, but I had received a call from Sonny, which I ignored. Then I got one from Nat, likely asking where Paul was so he could rough him up, but I didn’t answer that one, either. When it rang a third, fourth, and fifth time I decided I’d had enough and dropped my phone into a glass of water Matt brought that I hadn’t ordered.

Thank God for bourbon, I thought as I took another swallow.

I’d left Caden Wilson as confused and angry as I was. After hearing we were related—literally, as it turned out; Paul hadn’t been referring to how he’d been a father figure to me—Cade leapt on his dad and got in a few good hits. I had to pull him off, despite the temptation to leave and let him kick the crap out of his old man.

His old man, not mine. We were brothers not by a shared father, but by a shared mother. How’s that for a