“She’s good. She’s better than you will ever be in any fucking thing you ever do. Maybe that’s what gnaws at you. I don’t get it. Damn,having a daughter like that. That would be the greatest thing I could ever do. To bring someone like that into the world.”
Clarke turned to walk away but suddenly swung back.
“And by the way, at your house when your daughter stopped me from shooting with you and your boys, I wouldn’t rely on what you think you might have learned, if I were you. I’m an expert marksman. I never miss. So know this, I wouldn’t be saying anything derogatory or belittling about that girl within my hearing—fuck I wouldn’t say it outside my hearing on the off chance that I get wind of it. If I were you, Rivers, I would tread very, very, very carefully. Because if you don’t, you won’t like what’s coming at you. What’s more, you won’t see it until it hits.”
Up until then, Rivers appeared too stunned to even move, let alone say anything. Now, he found his voice.
“Are you threatening me?”
Clarke took two steps to get up in the man’s face. “That’s not a threat. It’s a simple, undeniable fact. It’s the gravity that’s holding down your sorry ass to this earth. It’s the air you’re breathing right now. It’s the sun on your face on a sunny day. It’s the rain falling on a rainy one. Know this and know this now, Rivers. It is your life. From this point on. Until the day you die.”
Gritting his teeth, Clarke fisted his hands, turned and marched off. His heart was pounding. Surely adrenaline and fire flowed through his veins rather than blood. He didn’t know where Roxanne had gone. The pressroom was just up ahead. He could see they were waiting for him. He was nearly there when something hit him from behind like a bolt of lightning. It almost knocked him off his feet. It definitely knocked the wind out of him. He looked down at the arms wrapped around him. He ran his fingers over the birthmark and tattoo on her wrist.
“People are staring,” he muttered.
“You know, Sir Stick Up His Ass, I don’t know whether to scowl or grin. Because as much as I say I want you to change, I find some sort of strange comfort in the fact that you are one of those rare constants in my life. And now it’s your turn to prove it. You are a man of honor, are you not?”
He grinned, but he also felt a lump in his throat. He’d always thought so, but now he wasn’t so certain.
“I think so,” he said, recognizing that tentative tone and wondering if she could hear it too.
“Do you remember, when you grabbed me from behind, making me stop to listen to you, you promised me that I could do the same to you. Whenever. Wherever.”
His chin dropped to his chest.
Ceci Rivers—there really is no one else like you.
“I remember. So what is it you want? Do you want to squeeze my ass again?”
She laughed. “Uh-uh.”
“Give me another black eye?”
“Nope.”
“You want me to listen to you.”
“Yep.”
“Okay, but we have a rather large audience at the moment, and they appear to be listening. And up ahead, the press is waiting. Not to mention the camera crews. Can we do this after—”
“You promised.”
She was right. He did.
“And I fully intend to keep that promise.”
“Because you’re a man of honor.”
He grinned. “Because I’m a man of honor.” He drew a breath. “If we’re going to do this, I’m going to need you to follow my lead.”
Clarke turned to address the press and crowd who were standing around, some of them shouting questions. He held up his hand. “I’m going to answer all your questions.” He waved at the attendant just outside the pressroom. “I just need five minutes. Okay, five minutes.”
He took Ceci’s hand and headed toward Elegante’s garage.
Clarke noticed some people following them. There was no way they could do this here.
“Are you wearing heels?” he asked her. “Can you run?”
