Claiming Cari Read online

  Claiming Cari © 2017 by Megyn Ward. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner, whatsoever, including internet usage, without written permission from the author, except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  FIRST EDITION 2017

  Book design by Megyn Ward

  Cover design by Megyn Ward

  Cover photo by Bigstock

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and

  Incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  The Gilroy Clan

  For everyone who believes in love.

  One | Patrick

  Two | Cari

  Three | Patrick

  Four | Cari

  Five | Patrick

  Six | Cari

  Seven | Patrick

  Eight | Patrick

  Nine | Cari

  Ten | Patrick

  Eleven | Cari

  Twelve | Patrick

  Thirteen | Cari

  Fourteen | Patrick

  Fifteen | Patrick

  Sixteen | Cari

  Seventeen | Patrick

  Eighteen | Cari

  Nineteen | Cari

  Twenty | Patrick

  Twenty-one | Cari

  Twenty-two | Patrick

  Twenty-three | Cari

  Twenty-four | Patrick

  Twenty-five | Cari

  Eleven months later...

  Twenty-six | Cari

  Twenty-seven | Cari

  Twenty-eight | Patrick

  Twenty-nine | Cari

  Thirty | Patrick

  Thirty-one | Cari

  Thirty-two | Patrick

  Thirty-three | Cari

  Thirty-four | Patrick

  Thirty-five | Cari

  Thirty-six | Patrick

  Thirty-seven | Cari

  Thirty-eight | Patrick

  Thirty-nine | Cari

  Forty | Patrick

  Forty-one | Cari

  Forty-two | Patrick

  Forty-three | Cari

  Forty-four | Patrick

  Forty-five | Cari

  Forty-six | Patrick

  Forty-seven | Cari

  Forty-eight | Patrick

  Forty-nine | Cari

  Fifty | Patrick

  Fifty-one | Cari

  Fifty-two | Patrick

  Fifty-three | Cari

  Fifty-four | Patrick

  Fifty-five | Cari

  Fifty-six | Patrick

  Fifty-seven | Cari

  Fifty-eight | Patrick

  Fifty-nine

  Sixty | Cari

  Sixty-one | Patrick

  Sixty-two | Cari

  Epilogue | Patrick

  A NOTE FROM MEGYN

  Don’t miss....

  The Gilroy Clan

  Pushing Patrick

  Claiming Cari

  Having Henley

  (Coming soon!)

  For everyone who believes in love.

  Keep believing.

  The world needs you.

  One

  Patrick

  The way my cousins are looking at me, I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. Declan and I left Jeff in charge of the site and high-tailed it back to the bar. As soon as we got here, he called Con. Now the three of us are stuffed into Conner’s booth at the back, nursing a pitcher while Paddy gives us the stink-eye.

  He knows something’s going on—the three of us don’t just show up together to day-drink on a random Wednesday—but he won’t ask what it is. He’ll wait for one of us to break and spill about whatever trouble we got ourselves into. It’s worked for the past twenty-five years, and Paddy isn’t one to mess with perfection.

  “Well?” Declan hisses across the table at his brother. Conner holds up a finger while another slides down the page he’s speed-reading. He flips the page and does it again, and then one more time before he refolds the packet of paper and slides it towards me.

  “It’s a sexual harassment suit,” he says leaning back in the booth. “I’d also like to take this opportunity to point out that I’m not the one she filed it against.”

  “Not funny, asshole,” I growl, snatching the packet of papers off the table. I open them and scan the first page.

  Lisa is suing me.

  James, Cari’s asshole ex is representing her.

  That’s as far as I got before I totally lost my shit. “Especially since you’re the reason I hooked up with her in the first place.”

  “That’s weird.” Conner cocks his head at me, looking confused. “I don’t remember putting your dick in her mouth.”

  “What’s her claim.” Declan cuts in before Conner, and I can really tear into each other.

  “That the Cap’n here took her upstairs and forced her to perform sex acts on him in order to keep her job,” Conner says, shaking his head.

  “So, rape?” I feel like Conner just punched me in the face. “She’s saying I raped her?”

  “Is he going to be arrested?” Declan says it before Conner can answer me.

  “No,” Conner shoots me a look, and for a second I think he’s almost sorry about this whole mess. “It’s a civil suit at this point—but if she wins and she could because basically, it’s your word against hers—it’ll render criminal charges a foregone conclusion.”

  Criminal charges. “You’re saying I could actually go to prison over this shit?” It’s not prison I’m worried about. Not really. I founded a charity-base baseball league for kids. If I go to prison on trumped up rape charges, the fact that I’m innocent won’t matter. I’ll go from a young, successful businessman who cares about his community to a sexual predator who started a charity so he could hang out with kids all day. “You were here,” I say, desperate to make this go away. “You know that’s not how it happened.”

  “Yeah...” Conner nods his head. “but I’m also your cousin. And your friend. And a bit of a whore. My word won’t help. Might even hurt.”

  Shit. I close my eyes. Everything about that night is a blur. “Cari—”

  “Is your girlfriend.” Con shrugs. “Same thing.”

  She’s not my girlfriend. She’s not my anything anymore. It’s on the tip of my tongue to say it, but I don’t. “Lisa was in full octopus-mode Saturday night,” I say instead. “I don’t know how many times I told her to back off.”

  “Anyone see it besides family and a couple hundred drunk college kids?” Conner asks, forcing me to shake my head no. “Then it didn’t happen.”

  Shit. I scrub a hand over my face and bite the bullet. “What does she want?” Maybe if I just pay her, I can make it all go way.

  “James did his homework,” Con says. “He knows exactly what you’re worth.”

  “How much?” I say, suddenly impatient.

  “Enough to wipe out your liquid assets.”

  Fuck. It’s only money, right? Even as I think it, I know it’s not. It’s not just money. It’s my legacy. Our legacy. Not to mention that paying her off is all but an admission of guilt. “I’m sorry—both of you. I should’ve—”

  Conner leans forward and gets in his brother’s face. “You're awful quiet for someone who’s usually a judgy asshole.” I look at Declan, but he’s not looking at me. He’s not looking at Conner either. He’s staring as the lawsuit I’m being slapped with. “You got something to share with the rest of us?”

  Like he’s made up his mind about something, Declan sighs. “What if it wasn’t just he said/she said? What if we can prove Lisa went upstairs
willingly? That she made repeated advances toward him Saturday night and that he turned her down? That she harassed him?” He’s talking to his brother like I’m not even there. Before I even get mad about it, Conner gets in on the act.

  “Then I’d say we have a shot at getting this whole shitshow shut down before it even gets started,” Con says, still eyeing his brother. “How do you propose we do that?”

  “I had security cameras installed... a while ago.”

  Both Conner and I look at each other. Neither one of us knew anything about it.

  “You what?” we say at the same time, loud enough to earn a look from my uncle. “Say that again,” Conner says quietly. “It sounded like you said you had hidden cameras installed in this bar without informing its owner.”

  Declan glances at me but looks away quickly. I look at the pool table and think about what happened on it a few days ago. I know from the way Declan won’t look at me that he saw it all. I shift in my seat, unaware that I’m making a lunge for him until Conner’s hand lands heavily on my chest, stopping me in my tracks. “How long ago?”

  Declan squirms in his seat. “Long enough that I’ve got it all on tape. The altercation between Cari’s ex and Patrick the night she broke up with him. Lisa following him up the stairs willingly. The way she wouldn’t leave him alone, even after being shut down a hundred times.”

  It suddenly makes sense. “Conner didn’t tell you about Lisa and me, did he?”

  “I—” Declan runs a hand through his hair.

  “Why?” I say. “Because you don’t trust me?”

  “I got a better question.” Conner’s voice lowered with each word until it was barely more than a whisper. “How long is long enough?”

  Now Declan sets his jaw and looks away.

  Conner pounds his fist into the table to get his brother’s attention. “How. Fucking. Long.”

  Declan finally shrugs and opens his mouth. “Eight months.”

  Conner sat back in his seat again, a strange mixture of pity and distain on his face. “Don’t worry, Patrick,” he says, still eyeing his brother. “This doesn’t have anything to do with you.” The corner of his mouth turns up in something that looks more like a sneer than a smile. “It’s about Tess—right, Dec?”

  “Does it matter?” Declan says defensive like he’d been caught doing something wrong but doesn’t want to admit it. “It’s a good thing I did it or this whole thing would—”

  “Eight months ago, he found a pair of Tess’s panties in a desk drawer in the office,” Conner says to me, laughing. “My guess is he had the cameras installed to see if he could catch us fucking, after hours.” Now he looks at Declan again, all traces of humor gone. “What the hell were you going to do if you did catch us on tape? Jerk off while watching your little brother fuck your ex—”

  Before I can stop him, Declan launches himself across the table and grabs Conner by the shirt and they both crash through the booth partition before hitting the floor, yelling and cursing. Declan lands on top and punches Conner square in the mouth. Conner grabs Declan by the shirt and jerks him in close. “The sad part of it all is I know you took them,” Conner says, grinding the words between bloody teeth. “You took them. Do you even know how fucking pathetic you are?” Before Declan can respond, Conner jerks up and head-butts him in the nose before rolling him over and straddling his chest.

  It all happens in the space of about thirty seconds. Long enough for my uncle to fill a large plastic pitcher with ice water and walk it to where his sons are trying to kill each other. He tosses the entire contents of the pitcher on his sons, and when the water hits, they fly apart like a pair of spitting cats.

  Paddy lets his gaze roll over the damage his sons did to the bar. “Have I told ya how happy I am that this shite isn’t my responsibility anymore?” he says to me before tossing me the pitcher. “Since the three of you don’t look to have actual jobs today, I’m going home.” He looks at his sons, soaking wet and seething on the floor at his feet. “Your Mam wants you both to Sunday dinner—hope you’re healed by then.” My aunt Mary rules with an iron-fist. If either of them rolls into dinner with bruises, she’s going to give them a few lumps to go with them. “You too, Altarboy.” He points at me before heading for the door leaving Declan and Conner, bleeding in a pool of water and melting ice and me holding the bag.

  Before any of us can say anything, the side door flies open and Tess streaks into the bar, a tiny blur in overalls and boots. “Patrick, I need to—” She stops short and stares at the aftermath. “What the—no. You know what?” She holds up her hand silencing them before they even open their mouths. “I don’t give a shit.” She looks at me. “Cari’s in trouble.”

  Two

  Cari

  I pull up to the guard shack for James’s firm. The security guard is the same one on duty the last time I was here. If he recognizes me, he doesn’t say so. I hand him the parking pass I just dug out from my glovebox with a smile, silently praying that it still works. It does. He scans it, hands it back to me and pushes the button to lift the gate. “Have a nice day,” he says, letting me in.

  I whip my car into the first available space I can find and hustle my way to the elevator. I have less than ten minutes to get up to James’s office before he posts that video on line—and I have no doubt in my mind he’ll do it. He’s probably hoping I don’t show up so he can post it.

  Stabbing my thumb against the button marked 22, I fidget with my bag and stare at myself in the polished stainless steel of the elevator car in front of me. I’m a mess. The same shirt I wore to bed the night before. The same shirt I painted in this morning. When I left Tess at the garage, I stopped at home long enough to grab my bag and car keys. I didn’t even bother to put on a bra or comb my hair. I can see bright yellow paint smudged across my face and I give it a few cursory scrubs with the heel of my hand before giving up. A few months ago, I wouldn’t have been caught dead in public looking like this. Now, I don’t give a shit.

  I send Tess a text, just like I promised, right before turning on the voice recording app I downloaded on the way over here. Maybe if I can get him to admit to blackmailing me, I can go to the police.

  The elevator stops to let me out way too soon. Suddenly, I feel nervous and sick to my stomach. He didn’t call me here to talk. He wants something from me, and if he doesn’t get it, he’s going to destroy my life.

  Stepping into the reception area, I see Janine behind her desk. When she looks up and sees me, she doesn’t look surprised. She looks disgusted, and my stomach drops into my shoes. I always liked her. The way she called me Ms. Faraday—like I deserved respect. “Hello, Janine,” I say, forcing myself across the reception area to stand in front of her desk. “I’m here to see—”

  “Mr. Templeton is expecting you,” she says, her tone polite and professional. Pressing her finger against the intercom on her desk phone, she speaks into it. “Mr. Templeton, Cari Faraday is here to see you.”

  “Send her in.” James's voice slithers through the speaker. Just hearing it is enough to make me want to throw up.

  She glances up at me before she stands and skirts around her desk. I follow her, hands gripped around the strap of my bag, keys clenched in my fist.

  “Be careful, Ms. Faraday.”

  It’s barely more than a whisper, and I look up to see Janine in front of me, her hand poised on the door handle to James’s office. She’s looking at my bag, and for a second, I swear she knows what I’m doing. Why I’m here. That she’s worried about me and tears prickle at the corner of my eyelids. I nod and try to smile back. Just like that, her smile disappears, and she opens the door for me, ushering me inside with an impatient wave of her hand.

  James is sitting behind his desk, leaned back in his chair. When he sees me, he smiles. “Janine, please take Cari’s bag.”

  James is a lawyer. Of course, he’d be careful about getting himself caught saying something incriminating. I hand my bag over before Janine has to ask me fo
r it.

  “You can take your lunch, Janine,” he says without looking at her.

  Janine hesitates a fraction of a second before nodding her head. “Thank you, Mr. Templeton.” She shoots me a quick look before shutting the door between us. Leaving me alone.

  “It’s good to see you again, Cari,” James says, his tone pleasant. Like I just stopped by on a whim instead of being lured here by a threat to release a sex tape. My sex tape.

  “Just tell me what you want,” I say, amazed at how steady my voice sounds. “Because the longer I have to look at you, the harder it is for me to fight the urge to vomit.”

  The smile on his face flickers for a second before he steadies it on his face. “Lift your shirt,” he tells me. “Turn around.” He twirls his Montblanc in the air, directing me like I’m a circus dog, doing tricks.

  I lift my shirt to just below my breasts and do what he says, turning in a slow circle to show him I’m not wearing a wire or have a recording device stuffed in my waistband. My recording device is in my bag on his receptionist’s desk. As I turn, I catch sight of the sitting area behind me and James laughs, the sound of it like sandpaper against my skin. “I’d introduce you to Trevor but you two already know each other, don’t you?” Trevor is sitting in a club chair, grinning from ear-to-ear. Seeing him here isn’t even a shock. I’ve known that the two of them are friends since the night I left Trevor, seething, in a restaurant bathroom.

  The person sitting next to him is a different story. Lisa, the cocktail waitress from Gilroy’s.

  I drop my shirt. “What’s she doing here?” I say, looking at James.

  “Sit down.” When he says it, I know he’s not being polite. He’s trying to take control of the situation. Control me. Use me. Same as always.

  “No.” My fingers shift over the keys I still have clutched in my hand.

  James shrugs like it doesn’t matter to him one way or the other, but I know my refusal pisses him off. That I’ll end up paying for it, one way or the other. “Lisa is suing your boyfriend for sexual assault in the workplace. He forced her to perform oral sex on him in your apartment.”