Page 102 of Cocky Prince
“Hayden,” Mira says, and I look up. “Go home.”
I stare at the stack of papers on my desk.
I toss scissors, pencils, and about twenty notepads in my desk drawers, trying to clean it up. Then hand the pile of papers to Mira. “Will you—”
“I’ll go through them,” she says.
I have the sudden urge to clear all of this crap away. I was covered in filth with Blackwell in charge, tainted by dirty power and evil intentions. I wanted to make this place better. But maybe it wasn’t this place. It was my past I needed to accept.
Mira looks at me nervously. “Do you want me to call anyone?”
“No. I know who I need to see.”
* * *
Ipullup to Adam’s house half expecting him to be away, but both of his cars are in the driveway. No security detail, I note. I imagine he doesn’t need it now that Blackwell has been arrested and held without bail.
None of the documentation the police retrieved pointed to Blackwell. Had he kept to his typical practice of not attending casino events, he might have been able to blame the sex trafficking and drugs that would be brought into the casino on someone else, the way he blamed past illegal activities on Drake Peterson. But Blackwell was arrogant and proud of Bliss, so he attended the grand opening and directly implicated himself.
From what I’ve heard, the police have everything they need to lock Blackwell up, along with the Blue bodyguards who hid the women away in the apartment. Technically, nothing illegal occurred at the casino; there wasn’t time. But between the recorded conversation from Jeb’s friend and the raid on the women’s home, the police had everything they needed to press charges against Blackwell and many others. The detectives said there is even evidence against De la Cruz—Blackwell’s confidant and godfather—which they’d been trying to obtain for over a decade.
I’m told we don’t need to worry about retaliation by De la Cruz. The only person who should be afraid is Blackwell. Apparently, Blackwell and the guards he had Adam hire possessed enough information on the drug and human-trafficking business De la Cruz ran to lock the man up for several lifetimes. Full-time guards are protecting Blackwell in prison until the trial. De la Cruz is powerful, and there’s a risk to Blackwell’s life even in custody.
I knock on Adam’s front door. Birds chirp in the pine trees off to the right, and the faint sound of the lake washing against the shore sounds in the distance. It’s so peaceful, yet my palms are sweating.
Adam opens the door. He’s in jeans and a T-shirt, his hair uncombed—and I want nothing more than for him to hold me. But his stoic expression suggests that won’t be happening. “This isn’t a good time.”
“When would be a good time? I need to talk to you.”
He leans his hand against the doorframe, glowering down at me. “So that you can use me for more information?”
I wet my lips. “You’re right. I did that. But it was before I knew you.”
“And that should matter? Whatever we had is based on a lie.”
“That’s not true,” I say firmly. My gaze flickers past him into the room. “May I?”
After a heated beat, he drops his arm and opens the door. I walk no farther than the entry. No matter what I say, this has to come from him. He needs to decide. But that doesn’t mean I won’t try and convince him of the truth. “I know what you’re doing and it’s a load of bullshit.”
He raises his eyebrows, his shoulders taut and unyielding. “Came here to yell at me? You’re wasting your breath.”
The cold Adam is back. The guy who wants no one to know how he truly feels.
I step closer. “Really? Because you made one miscalculation. You showed me who you are. Not the cold, unaffected rich boy, but the warm man who’d do anything for the people in his life.”
He shakes his head and crosses his arms, throwing up a physical block, along with the emotional. “You don’t know me.”
“In the beginning, part of my reason for getting to know you was to see if what Mira and Tyler had discovered about Blue was still going on. That meant getting close to someone involved with Blackwell’s Blue Stars. I didn’t want to know you. I didn’t like you.”
“You’re not making a case for yourself,” he says dryly.
I let out a shaky breath. None of this is coming out right.
“Don’t you see? I was wrong. And I think a part of me—the part that’s all heart and no head—knew I was wrong about you. You’re the son who stood beside his father, no matter how badly Ethan Cade ran the household. You’re the brother who keeps the family together when the others aren’t talking with one another. The clotheshorse”—my voice cracks, but I can’t stop, the words pouring out of me—“who uses one-tenth of the closet so that his girlfriend can have the rest for her insane shoe collection.”
Tears are streaming down my face, and I don’t even care. “And you’re the guy who pushes everyone away when they get too close. Because to be close is to lose them. Just like you lost your mother. Just like you lost your father. But you don’t have to lose your brothers—or me.”
His chest rises and falls rapidly, his face red. “Are you finished?”
