When Lightning Strikes (Whiskey Creek #1)(65)
Author: Brenda Novak

Disgust etched lines in Simon’s forehead. “I’m playing a serial killer, for God’s sake!”

“But he’s a good husband and father at the same time, very complex. That’s what makes him interesting and I’m sure it’s why you took the part. Anyway, not too many actors have more box office appeal than you do right now. We wait much longer, that might not be the case. So how can I convince you to get your ass back to work?”

Now Simon laughed. “You can’t. I’m not going back until I gain custody of Ty.”

“You won’t get Ty. You’ve already made sure of that.”

Simon folded his arms. “I wonder where I learned the behavior that brought me to this point.”

“It’s not your behavior I’m trying to understand. It’s why you didn’t bother to be more discreet.”

“Maybe I’m not interested in becoming the Great Pretender, like you.”

“If you had any brains you wouldn’t be in this situation. You had Bella by the jugular, and you let her go. No one knows that better than me.”

“That you could even suggest I go public with what happened, after the part you played, makes me want to kick your ass,” Simon growled. “You were probably hoping I’d do just that. Give you a spot in the limelight again.”

Tex waved his words away. “Oh, come on, your marriage to Bella would never have lasted, regardless of anything I did. It was already on the rocks.” He gestured toward Gail. “This one won’t last, either. One woman could never keep you happy, not when just about every female you come across is willing to lie down and spread her legs. You’re too much like me.”

Gail felt sick. “Out,” she said. “Get out of our house. Now.”

Simon grabbed her by the arm before she could get in Tex’s face. “I’m nothing like you, and I’m going to prove it.”

His father adjusted his hat. “Knock yourself out,” he said. “But understand this—you have three days. I’ll be staying at the B and B on Sutter Street until Tuesday. You don’t make arrangements with me to start that damn film, I’ll sue you for breach of contract and hire someone else. We’ll see if the publicity from that helps you get Ty back. The judge and everyone else will think, ‘Simon screwed up again, just like we figured he would.’ Then hiding out here in the back of beyond will be a waste of time. Why not be realistic while you have the chance?”

“While it serves you, you mean?” Simon said. “While it gives you a film that’ll make you millions more than if you hired another actor?”

“The people I talked into signing on are upset at the way this thing is going. I owe them something, too.”

“But who do you owe more?” Gail asked. “Don’t you care about your grandson? Don’t you want a better relationship with him than you have with your son?”

Tex shifted his attention to her. “I think you shouldn’t get involved,” he said, and stalked out.

* * *

Rage consumed Simon. His father’s nerve in showing up here and acting as if…as if he’d had nothing to do with the situation that had started everything made Simon want to put his fist through a wall.

“You okay?” Gail’s voice came to him as if from far away. He knew she meant well, that she was trying to help him, but he couldn’t be with her right now. Considering the rage bubbling up inside him, he couldn’t be with anyone he hoped to have a relationship with afterward because there’d be no way to take back the things he was about to say.

“I need to get out of here,” he muttered.

She stood in his path. “And go where? You don’t even know the area.”

“Who cares?”

“I do.”

“Then you’re a fool. And you’ll live to regret it. Get out of my way.”

“No. If you leave now you’ll do something you regret.”

On some level, he agreed with her. He thought of Ty and wanted to make him proud. But even his son wasn’t enough to stem the deluge of anger whipping through him. Because trying to reclaim Ty felt like he was grasping at air. His father was right; he’d never get his son back.

He needed a liquor store, some way to dull the jagged emotions that felt like barbed wire being yanked through his heart. If he didn’t do something he’d explode—or finally give his old man what he deserved. He wanted to do exactly that, but if he ever started down that road, he’d wind up in prison. He doubted he’d be able to quit slugging him.

He tried to get around Gail, but she stopped him. “No!” she said more firmly. “I won’t let him take from you what you’ve achieved during these past two and a half weeks.”

“I don’t give a shit about what I’ve achieved. I don’t give a shit about anything!” He thought his temper would frighten her. It’d certainly frightened her when he’d stormed into her office following that bogus rape accusation. But she didn’t let go or back away, even when he tried to shake her off.

“I’m not giving up on you, damn it!” she cried. “Don’t let him win!”

“You have no choice but to give up. Our marriage—this joke of a relationship—is over.” Determined to get through the door, he picked her up and set her aside. But she came after him again, catching his arm. When he whirled, ready to shout—to say whatever he had to say to get her to accept who and what he really was—she grabbed his hand and shoved it up her shirt.

“Stay,” she breathed.

The shock of suddenly having her breast in his hand shot straight to his groin. He told himself it wasn’t right to take her up on the offer she was making. Not when he knew why she was making it. But the anger was like a monster inside him, a monster with a mind of its own. It demanded some kind of physical action, a release….

Still, he hesitated for a second and almost let go. He respected her too much to use her. But there was more than anger at work. He also wanted her—badly. And when her hand clenched in his hair and she turned his head to kiss him as if she wouldn’t take no for an answer, he knew he wouldn’t be able to refuse.

Especially when she met his lips with an open mouth and arched into him, holding nothing back.

23

Gail had never experienced anything even close to what was happening. The emotions flying between her and Simon were so charged they seemed to be sparking. Desperate to come together as fast as possible, they tore at each other’s T-shirts, managed to remove them and, naked from the waist up, feasted on each other’s mouths, necks and chests—gasping for breath in between.