Suited (St. Martin Family Saga) by Gina Watson Read Free Book Online Page B

caught with a losing hand.
    Eighteen hours later, he’d made it back to the smoke and lights in a place as soulless as himself. Cash had given up binging on alcohol and drugs but standing at the window in his high-rise Vegas condo, he could have killed for a snort. Yet he’d made a promise to himself, and he’d kept it. He hoped it would hold firm through this shit storm his father had stirred up.
    Cash had been so mad when he stormed out that he’d forgotten about the jazz festival. Stopping only for gas, he’d driven twenty-five hours straight on the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He grimaced as he thought about the excitement on Isa’s face when he’d told her of the plans he’d made for them in New Orleans. He’d promised her he wouldn’t hurt her again and that he’d never again leave. He’d broken all his promises and after only eight weeks. There was something about the number eight that he was beginning to dislike.
    The phone Camp lent him was lighting up like it was the Fourth of July. He didn’t even bother to look at it before turning it off and collapsing on the cool crisp sheets of his bed. His migraines were back and the pain was piercing off his ability to focus but he relished the pain. The more the merrier as they say.
    ≈
    Cash was aroused from sleep at the hard banging at his door. What time was it anyway? Fucking Vegas. Cash rolled over and closed his eyes, but the banging didn’t cease. He drew himself up and pulled on a pair of lounge pants. He walked to the door and cracked it open.
    “Dad?” He looked behind his father. “Camp?” He opened the door wide, permitting them entry.
    Cash was distorted and confused. Had he taken drugs, or was he drunk? To his relief the clock on the wall read four o’clock. No drugs, no alcohol, just a crazy brother and father. He knew it to be early morning because the view from his window was glowing from the lights of the Strip.
    “What are you doing here?”
    “I’m sorry, son.” His father’s eyes focused on Cash’s overly inked chest. As they made eye contact, Cash saw liquid pool in his father’s eyes. Saw him take in a deep, audible breath. His father whispered his name and reached his hand out to Cash’s shoulder, resting it there as the tears fell. “I was overjoyed that you returned. I never told you that.” He scrubbed his face. “I should have made the first move to attempt our reconciliation, but instead I chose to remain petty. I’m sorry. You’ve come so far, you make me proud.”
    Cash was completely taken off guard. Was he dreaming? Were his twin brother and his father really here? Had to be dreaming. He closed his eyes. No, he’d wanted it too much and now it was here mocking him as a figment, a mirage. He pinched himself on the forearm and it stung. He opened his eyes and his father and Camp still stood before him. Why now? Why not back at the worksite where he could have been with Isa? He felt the resolve harden across his face and knew his father understood he’d probably just been defeated.
    His dad’s head shook narrowly. He slumped and turned his eyes to the floor. “You’ve every right to hate me.”
    Camp guided them both to the living room and bid them to sit. His father sat with his head in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. Camp cast wide eyes at him. Cash shrugged. He’d never seen his father in such a state. He could tell by the worry on Camp’s face that he’d never witnessed it either.
    When he finally sat up, he scrubbed his face with his hand. “When I was your age, it had been said I did things my own way and would never use conventional methods. Everyone thought I was crazy, but I outbid them all using innovative solutions. At first I’d been a loose cannon—the word was that people would be crazy to trust me. But then I’d had a series of small successes and the stories started to change and the business started to grow.”
    He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at Cash. “The