Page 21 of Bombshell (Whiskey Dolls 1)

“Not a problem,” I offered as I started moving backward. “See you around, Pierce.”

“Yeah. See you.”

I spun on my heel and headed the rest of the way to my car alone, but I could have sworn I felt his gaze on me the entire way.

9

Pierce

The headache I’d been trying my best to ignore had gotten so fucking bad it felt like my eyeballs had a pulse. This case was going to be the death of me.

Eli’s regular sitter decided to pack up her life and follow her boyfriend to the West Coast so he could pursue his dreams of being a musician. I’d heard the guy play. He was in for some serious disappointments. And I didn’t feel like getting a lecture from my mother every time I asked for her help.

While my loser brother Frank could do no wrong in her eyes, she never failed to make me feel like I was a shitty dad for, in her words, “pawning my boy off whenever I felt like it.” Not having anyone to help meant I was working my ass off during the day at the office, then again at home after I got Eli fed, bathed, and tucked into bed.

I was functioning on little to no sleep, and I wasn’t sure how much longer I could handle it.

Meanwhile, Marin’s number had been burning a hole in my pocket for the past week, yet I hadn’t managed to find the courage to call her and take her up on her offer. I’d lost count of how many times I’d pulled that damn receipt out and re-read the numbers. It was so often that I’d had to program it into my phone because the ink was starting to fade, not that it mattered, seeing as I’d already memorized it.

I knew she’d be a huge help, and not calling her was getting harder and harder, but I knew that much close contact with her would make it too goddamned hard to ignore the burn I felt in my gut every time I laid eyes on her.

There hadn’t been another woman since Constance, and there was a part of me that was pissed as hell the first woman I’d been drawn to since my wife’s passing was my own bother’s ex.

I’d poured all my time and energy and love into Eli. We were all each other had, and I refused to take time away from my boy for a woman. Especially when I had no intention of ever letting it get beyond something physical. I’d gone down the marriage and family road once already, and I had absolutely no desire to ever travel that path again. I’d given everything I had to Constance and Eli. When Constance died, a part of me had died with her. All that was left was what I had for my son.

I couldn’t afford to let my attraction to Marin Grey lead me around by my dick.

The intercom on my desk buzzed, followed a second later by my assistant’s voice. “Mr. Walton, you have a call on line one.”

I hit the button and spoke back, “Please take a message, Abigale.”

“I tried,” she returned reluctantly. “It’s your brother, sir. He’s very insistent.”

Of course he was. That pulsing in my eyes grew worse. “All right, thanks. Go ahead and put him through.” This was the last fucking thing I needed. Frank and I hardly talked, so the fact that he was reaching out now sent a chill down my spine. I couldn’t imagine he’d have anything to say that I wanted to hear.

I snatched up the receiver from the cradle and brought it to my ear. “Frank, I really don’t have time for whatever you’re calling about,” I said in place of hello. “I’m in the middle of an important case.”

My brother snorted through the line. “Of course you are. Because you’re so fuckin’ important, aren’t you?”

“All right, I’m hanging up now.”

“Wait,” he called out before I could slam the phone back down. “Pierce, just wait, for Christ’s sake.”

“What do you want, Frank? Just spit it out so this conversation can be done.”

“Jesus, dude. Can’t a man ever just call his brother?”

“If it were anyone else, I’d say yes. But not you. The only time you ever reach out is when you need something.” As much as I hated that fact, it was the truth, plain and simple. I’d tried with Frank. Hell, our entire childhood into our early adult years, I’d tried to be a brother to him, tried to be there, tried to build some sort of relationship. But our mother had spoiled his ass rotten, looking at him as the baby of the family, and when our father passed when I was in law school, she’d gotten even worse without him there to temper her coddling, even though it had never really helped. Frank had been treated differently from the very beginning.

But even with having everything handed to him on a silver platter, he resented me. I’d always had the best grades in school, which led to an academic scholarship to the college of my choosing while Frank had been lucky to have graduated. I’d been a natural athlete, whereas Frank didn’t have an athletic bone in his body, causing him to be dropped in the first round of tryouts for the varsity football team. I was popular, named prom king my senior year, but Frank didn’t have many friends because he was an asshole to pretty much everyone who crossed his path.

I’d worked my ass off to get everything I’d had back then, and Frank didn’t have any of it because he was a lazy fuck who refused to do more than the bare minimum. But he didn’t see it like that. He was a miserable, bitter asshole.

Frank was coddled every time he failed, and that failure wasalwaysdue to lack of trying. It eventually reached the point in our household where excellence was expected of me while our mom praised him for his mediocrity.

Once I’d graduated from law school and got a job at a prestigious firm in Richmond, Frank looked at me and saw dollar signs. It didn’t matter that I was only a junior associate. He’d bounced around from one manual labor job after another, usually getting his ass fired after missing too many days or being a no-show all together. He never hesitated to put his hand out to me between jobs, like it was just expected that I’d bail his ass out.

It had driven Constance crazy. To say she wasn’t a big fan of my brother would have been putting it mildly. She’d even grown to resent my mother for enabling him to become the man he was. But being the soft-hearted, kind woman she was, she never let that resentment show. Those were conversations we’d had in the privacy of our own home. She never wanted to be the cause of my already contentious relationship with my mom getting any worse. Family meant everything to her, and she never stopped holding out hope that my mother would come around and see the error of her ways.

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