In Debt to Daddy Read online

  “Why the hell won’t you just let me go?”

  “Because at some point this evening, you decided to appoint me your white fucking knight. So, we’re going to go out there, you’re going to hop your pretty little ass into my car, and I’m going to drive you wherever the hell you need to go. Is that understood?”

  Her bright sapphire eyes spit fire as she glares at me with her arms crossed over her chest. Her mouth in a straight line. She nods once.

  Good enough. I take her hand in a firm grip, just in case she has any ideas of running off, and I lead her out through the party, still in full swing. Outside, the air is crisp and cool. I’m tempted to ask if she’s brought a coat, but if she answered with something stupid like, “It didn’t go with this outfit,” I’d be more than a little tempted to spank her again.

  Without a word, she gets in my old 4Runner, uncomfortably shifting in her seat.

  Good. I hope she remembers tonight’s spanking the next time she wants to wander off with a stranger. The thought of her doing just that makes my jaw clench. My dick still aches and I take the opportunity to adjust myself as I walk around the back of the vehicle.

  We haven’t gotten halfway down the road before she whines, “Do we have to listen to this?”

  I had tuned to a hard rock station on my way to the party. I wave my hand. “By all means, princess. Listen to whatever the hell you want.”

  “Thanks. I will.”

  She changes it to a freaking pop station, and I roll my eyes. Katy Perry’s song “I Kissed A Girl” comes on, and I mentally sing, “I spanked a girl, and I liked it.” And I did. It had been a long while since I really got to spank a chick.

  Most of the women I sleep with are the independent, feminist types. They may like to play at submission in the sack on occasion but would slug first and ask questions later if I even thought about spanking them when my dick wasn’t buried up to their eyeballs.

  It’s damned frustrating for a man like myself. I glance over at Candi sitting primly with her hands in her lap, staring out the window. Her lips are pursed like she’s just eaten something sour. I wonder if she’s ever been spanked before. I’m guessing she hasn’t from how surprised she seemed by the whole thing. Including how hard she’d gotten off with my dirty talk. It makes me wonder if she’s the kind of girl who likes getting spanked in and out of the bedroom.

  My curiosity is piqued, and I’m wondering if maybe I’d read her wrong. Judged her to quickly. “So, do you work around here?”

  She offers me a quick glance before staring back out the window. “I waitress at a bar.”

  Well, she isn’t the pampered princess I was picturing, but she is still a hot mess. Although... “Do you go to school?” She does seem like she belongs in a sorority somewhere.

  This time she fidgets with her hands and shakes her head. “Nope.” She seems somewhat embarrassed by this. Interesting.

  “You know, it’s never too late, if that’s something you want to do—”

  She huffs a sigh. “Look. It’s really nice that you’re driving me to my car, but I’ve had a completely shit night. Can we just skip the small talk?”

  I shrug. I had thought I’d been nice to get her off. Some people didn’t appreciate things like a good orgasm. I sure as hell would appreciate one right about now. It definitely would make my night much better.

  Reaching over, I change the station to classic rock. She doesn’t say anything and seems to relax a little by the time we pull into the chain restaurant where an old Jeep Renegade sits under a streetlight, all by its lonesome. I wonder if she had enough sense to park under the light, or if she just got lucky. Thinking back to her choices this evening, from her idiot boyfriend to going off with some stranger, I figure she got lucky.

  “That’s me,” she said popping the door open as soon as I pull into the spot next to the Jeep.

  “I’ll see you around, princess,” I toss out, just wanting to irritate her.

  “Not if I see you first,” she says, not turning.

  I watch as she goes to her vehicle, her long limbs illuminated by the streetlight. The wind molds her little outfit to her killer bod, blowing the skirt of her dress up until it nearly shows her gorgeous ass. Jesus H. she is a hot one. It’s too bad I don’t get involved with the hot mess, needy types. And she has hot mess written all over her. I may crave spanking and having the upper hand in a relationship, but I’m not a white knight. I’ve never had a hero complex, like so many guys I know have. I’m nobody’s savior. I have zero interest in saddling myself with some helpless chick I’d have to bail out of one problem after another. Like my mother.

  The thought makes my chest ache. I rub the spot as I watch Candi drive off.

  It’s not until I’m driving down the road that I realize I didn’t get her full name. It doesn’t matter, I rationalize. It’s not like I’m ever going to see that bit of trouble ever again.

  But still...

  2

  CANDI

  One thing. I would love for just one damn thing to go right in my godforsaken life. Humiliation still burns in my chest, making my eyes sting. I got off on being spanked like some naughty child...and the dirty things he said. Fuck. I can feel myself blushing crimson just thinking about it.

  Come on Daddy’s fingers. I did. And it was the best damn orgasm I’ve ever had. Ugh. What the hell is wrong with me?

  I’ve always known there was something off about me. Guys rarely ever are able to make me come. That’s bad enough. This kinky perversion is a new low for me. My own body betrayed me like it knew I wasn’t worth nice, sweet, normal loving.

  Even worse is the knowledge my boyfriend—no, make that ex-boyfriend—Disgusting Cockface Cody, is the guy who attacked one of my co-workers two months ago, in the parking lot of the bar I work at. It was late and no one saw, but I had a feeling. I should have called the cops then.

  Cody and his friends were in the bar that night, causing a ruckus. John, the owner, had to throw them out. It’s shocking I wasn’t fired that night. When I went to confront Cody, he was nowhere to be found. When I finally met up with him later that week he swore up and down that it hadn’t been him.

  What a lying sack of shit.

  I’d like just one man I could depend on and foolishly thought that could be Cody. He has a steady construction job. Pays his bills. Has a nice truck and his own apartment. I thought he was the kind of man I’d always wanted in my life. Steady, dependable. The kind of guy who would be a good influence on my younger brother. The opposite of my dad and older brothers.

  How wrong I’d been. Mr. Steady and Dependable had a coke problem and was more interested in showing me off to his friends than actually spending time with me.

  Driving through town, I pass a storefront with teddy bears, balloon hearts, and elaborate bouquets of flowers displayed in the window. Cody threw me a little box of chocolate before we left the restaurant where we ate with his buddies. “Here you go, babe,” he said. And I thought it was sweet. I. Thought. It. Was. Sweet.

  I’m such a fucking chump.

  Who lets their boyfriend take them to an anti-Valentine’s rager on Valentine’s? My stupid ass. That’s who. I still can’t believe I let him touch me. He’s a sick, disgusting bastard. Worse than the spanking Paul Bunyan look-alike I’d almost gone down on.

  Oh God. The sick feeling is back burning a hole through my stomach again. I tried to suck off a complete stranger. Just thinking about that makes me want to throw up. I know better than to drink rum. Of course, Cody knows it makes me want to swing my panties from the rafters and made sure I had a rum and Coke, or two.

  After pulling into the driveway to my old one-story ranch-style house, I cut the engine and beat my head against the steering wheel a couple of times, gripping the wheel, contemplating the shittiness of life. A screech of tires has me jerking around to see what the hell’s going on.

  What the— A body is dumped out the side door of a truck onto my front lawn, before the tires screech as it
tears off down the street and around the corner. Jumping out of my Jeep, I run across the yard on tiptoe so my stupid spike heels don’t sink into the grass. The slumped form is on his side. I pull him over and automatically recognize him. Even in the dark, even with his face a broken, swollen mass.

  “Dilly bean. What the hell happened to you?” My little brother, Dylan, groans. “Come on,” I say, trying to get him in a sitting position. He clutches his ribs staying put. “We need to get you to the hospital.”

  “No, Candi. No hospital. No cops.”

  I swallow hard, looking to the sky, blinking back tears for a second. Every man in my family has gambling problems and a penchant for pissing off the wrong people. This wasn’t the first time one of my kin has been dumped in the yard, or had to drag himself home. This scene has played out before. It is, however, the first time it’s happening with my little brother. I’d wanted so much more for him.

  “Dammit, Dyl.” My voice cracks on the disappointment clogging my throat. I swallow hard, choking it down. “Let’s get you inside, then.”

  “I’m sorry, Candi,” he says, grabbing my hand as I help ease him into a sitting position.

  “Save it.”

  Somehow, I manage to get him into the house. Out of all my brothers, he is blessedly the smallest, only a couple inches taller than my five foot nine. He is still heavier than a bag of bricks, though. After I dump him on our beat-up old couch, I go get the first aid kit and a wet washcloth.

  When I flip on the side-table lamp, he flinches at the bright light. Serves him right. Angry tears drip down my face as I wipe at the dried blood all over his face and neck. His nose is probably broken. From how he’s holding himself, I wouldn’t be surprised if he also has a broken rib or two.

  “We really should take you to the hospital.”

  “Tomorrow. After I’ve gotten cleaned up. I can say I took a hit playing football.”

  I snort in disbelief. The doctor will believe that only if he says he was been playing against a cement truck.

  “Tell me, Dylan, did years of seeing dad, Ronnie, and Robbie drag themselves in here beaten to a pulp seem so appealing you had to try it yourself?” We were so young when our oldest brother got killed for his stupidity.

  Suddenly Dylan’s hands stay mine. The look he gives me freezes my blood. Even through swollen slits, I can sense his fear and desperation. “I’m in big trouble, Candi. Big trouble. I—” He seems to choke back whatever he’s about to say. “I owe a lot of money to some bad men.”

  To my horror, he starts crying, “I’m sorry Candi. I’m so sorry.”

  “What did you do? Who the hell do you owe money to?”

  “Cody introduced me...to this guy he buys from. One thing led to another... I thought I could make some quick money. But I lost a bag or two. I don’t know what happened, I swear.”

  He’s not making sense. But I know. In my gut I know. He’s been selling drugs. Here I’d been worrying he’d start up gambling like our dad and older brothers, but he’d skipped right ahead to drug dealer. And if Cody introduced them, he wasn’t selling pot.

  “Jeez Dyl, did these lost bags happen to fall up your nose?”

  “I didn’t use them. I swear.”

  “Sure you didn’t.”

  “I didn’t! I don’t do drugs. Ever. Okay, I smoke pot sometimes...and I did Molly...twice. But nothing else. I swear. I wanted to make some easy money. Help you out. You’re always taking care of everything. I just—”

  Not wanting to hear about his good-intentioned drug dealing, I cut him off, “How much do you owe these people?”

  “I just owe them three grand.”

  “Oh, is that all? That’s quite a bit for a bag or two.”

  “Candi. They’re crazy. Look at me. They’re going to kill me. You have to help me.”

  I yank out of his desperate grip and pace the floor, running an aggravated hand through my hair. I know what I’m going to have to do, but that doesn’t make it easier. I have exactly three thousand five hundred in savings. It has taken me two years to save that. I’m always the one who has to cover the rent on this shithole of a house when my dad inevitably doesn’t show up to pay the bills. Setting aside a little bit by little bit has become routine. And I’ve also been hoping to start taking classes at the college one town over this spring. I foolishly thought if Dylan saw me making something of myself he’d want to follow suit.

  “Why is it again we can’t go to the police?”

  “Candi, please. I’ve been arrested before. It was just for underage drinking and shit, but if I’m arrested again for this—”

  He doesn’t have to finish. We both know if he’s arrested again they could put him away for a good long while. And if the people he owes money to have connections inside the prison—which they undoubtedly do—he’ll be dead. Over three freaking grand.

  “Who do I pay?” I say in resignation.

  “No, you can’t pay. I mean, I need the money, but you can’t be the one to deliver it.”

  “Who then? You?” Not only is he in no condition to be going anywhere, let alone meeting criminals, I don’t trust him enough at the moment not to cut and run the second he has the money.

  “This is my mess, Candi.”

  How ironic. I’ll still be the one paying for it. “You can’t go alone.”

  “Cody. You can give the money to Cody to deliver with me.”

  Oh, this plan just keeps getting better. “I hate to break it to you, but I broke up with him tonight.” And I’m definitely going to call the cops on his ass.

  “Can’t you just ask him this one little favor, Candi?” His voice has gone whiny and pleading, and I want to shake him. “Candi, please. I can ask him for you. You just have to give us the money.”

  Of freaking course.

  I stare at my bloody, beaten brother sitting on the couch and feel so much hurt and resentment bubbling up through me, I’m shaking with it.

  “Never. You are never to do anything like this again. You will never put me in this position again, Dylan Zachariah. Is that understood?”

  “I understand.”

  “I mean it, Dylan. I can’t do this. I thought it was going to be different when it was just you and me.”

  “Can-can,” he says falling back to what he called me when we were little. He is only three years younger than me, but one would think that I raised him.

  “Promise me, Dylan. Promise me you’ll get a normal job and try to go to college. Promise me this is the last time you’ll ever do anything this foolish. Promise me!”

  “I promise, Candi. I promise.”

  I nod once and walk to my room on wooden legs. I can’t be in the same room with him right now. Not when everything I’ve been saving for, hoping for, just went up in smoke. My college money is going to be used to pay off some drug dealer.

  Slamming my door, I yank my hair until my scalp stings and let out a frustrated scream. Giving into the helpless rage bubbling up inside me, I kick the stool out from underneath my vanity, flinging everything off my dresser in a fit before sinking to the floor, sobs shaking me.

  One thing. I wanted just one thing to go right.

  3

  CANDI

  My dad often said he never got more of a rush than when holding large quantities of money. I’m sure it’s part of what feeds his addiction. Part of why he does the things he does. No bet is ever too steep for Ray Dawson.

  As I clutch the manila envelope that houses more money than I’ve ever held at one time, I feel a rush, too, but it is more like holding a ticking bomb that can go off at any minute. Looking over at Cody smugly sitting behind the wheel of his truck, I bite back a curse, wanting to smack my brother all over again.

  For all his talk, my brother has opted to stay home, nursing his broken ribs, popping the pain pills the doctor I took him to on Monday gave him. I still can’t believe he’s put me in this position.

  Cody should be behind bars right now for assault. Instead, if I go to the cops
, he’ll turn the tables right around on my brother. He was very clear on that this morning when he came to pick up the money. I refused to hand it over. I want to see him give it to those thugs my brother owes. Then I don’t care if I have to hitchhike back to Gibson. I’m getting the hell away from Cody Mathews once and for all.

  We pull into a nondescript apartment complex, and Cody holds out his hand. Shaking my head, I open my door.

  Cody groans. “Candi girl, these aren’t the kind of guys I want seeing you,” he says in a possessive way I’ve come to loathe.

  “I don’t think that’s up to you. And I’m not blindly giving you this money. For all I know, you’ll just buy more drugs with it, and leave my brother out to dry.”

  “They’ll probably expect you to partake.”

  “As in get high with them?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why?”

  He rolls his eyes and shakes his head like I’m a dimwit. “So they know you’re not the fuzz.”

  “Fuzz?”

  “You know, the po-po. A narc.”

  I roll my eyes at his unfortunate use of slang, but I also acknowledge he has made a point. I’ve never snorted coke, and just the idea of being put on the spot and having drugs shoved up my nose makes my stomach knot.

  “Candi, you don’t want to be on these guys’ radar. You’re too...” He motions over my body with his hand. “Everything. Sweet, innocent, and hot. You walk in there, and they’ll say your brother owes twice as much as he does just to get a piece of your ass.”

  Cody’s right, and I hate it. That doesn’t mean I trust him. “Please don’t double-cross my brother. Please pay his debt and get the hell out of there.” It’s on the tip of my tongue to threaten him, but I know it won’t do any good. Plus ,he’s being sweet, and I don’t want to mess that up before he’s done me this favor.

  “Don’t worry. I always take care of my girl,” he says, running a finger down my cheek. Yeah, he took care of me so well by introducing my brother to a life of drug dealing.