Lie to Me (9 page)

“You’re trespassing. Get lost.”

“Sam, I said to let him in.”

Damian hated how deeply it affected him to be near his father, who had loved him so much before his life had spun out of control. This would be damn hard. He appreciated it when Casey tightened her hold around him, and he knew she understood.

“Following him around, Casey?” Sam asked. He grinned unpleasantly. “Are you his bodyguard now?”

“He doesn’t need one. Check the mirror,” Casey said, in a sweet voice.

Good girl.
Damian then addressed Sam again. “All right, you leave me with no choice.” He hurled his large body into the door, and it flung wide open, throwing Sam aside. As Damian stepped across the threshold, tensing for a possible blow from Sam, he inhaled the sweet, lingering scent of pipe smoke.

Ah, yes. Dad and his pipe.
He had warm memories of that pipe; his father puffing on it as Damian sat on the old man’s lap. Damian’s gaze veered off to one side and he felt his heart skip a beat. “Dad,” he said, nodding his head, trying not to show the fierce emotions blowing him apart inside.

Michael Ballantine nodded back and, for a moment, Damian felt almost like that child again. His father was the only parent he remembered, his mother having died of cancer when he’d been a toddler. Michael had been his hero, his world.

His father strode up to him, six foot five inches tall, like Sam, and impressive looking in his matching navy blue suit. Thick silvery blond hair was combed off his only slightly lined face. Michael stopped just before him, his gray eyes giving nothing away.

Behind Michael, the office could have been an elegant room, straight from a decorator magazine. The dark wood, armoire, mirrors, plants, and pristine off-white walls with off-white carpeting—it hardly resembled a workplace. Damian’s gaze slid to his father’s heavy oak desk and the family photos scattered across it. When he spotted one of himself, he glanced at Casey. Hadn’t the old man disowned him? He looked back at his father.

Michael’s eyes assessed, head to toe.
Why is he studying me that way?
Alex had told him that his father had acted cavalier about his accident, yet had asked about his condition every day. It was Alex’s opinion that their father had been sick with worry.

Alex always saw the best in everyone. It couldn’t be true.

“Do I look so different that you have to gape at me?” Damian asked, his voice an exaggerated southern drawl.

“No.” Michael let his eyes stray for a moment. “Don’t you have a job in Alabama? Did you come back to ask me to hire you?” He sounded matter-of-fact, but Damian took his words as a subtle dig. His father probably figured he’d visited the mill because he hadn’t been able to make it on his own, that he’d screwed up. Didn’t occur to the old man that he would clean up his act, find work, and make it without his damn money? He bristled. “I didn’t come to Wisconsin to beg you for a job.”

“I know. Alex told me why you’re here.”

Damian needed to set his father straight. “I started a business in Alabama.” His voice snapped, maybe too much. “Remodeling. People work for me, and they’re holding down the fort.”

His father lifted an eyebrow, and Damian smirked at him. He felt as if he’d scored a point against the old man.
Stop being childish, Damian!

Michael Ballantine once again seemed to be carefully assessing the way he looked. The close inspections made him uncomfortable. When his father again spoke, he continued to sound nonchalant. “Started your own business, did you?”

“After—the accident—” Damian didn’t want to talk about that so he rushed on. “I took out a loan and I’ve already paid it back.” Michael didn’t need to know that Reese had lent him the money.

“I remember you liked working on the house.” Michael crossed his arms staring at him.

“Alex never mentioned a business,” Sam put in, as if he didn’t believe him. “I think Damian’s lying, Dad.”

Damian laughed. He couldn’t help it. “You don’t know shit about me, Sam. Alex promised not to talk about me to anyone from my past. I even tried to stop him from telling anyone about my accident. Aside from that, it seems he kept my business to himself.”

“He did,” Michael, said, his voice dry.

Had his father wanted to know about him, after he’d renounced him? He doubted it. In an icy voice, Damian said, “Alex wasn’t very happy with the disowning bit. Bothered him more than me.” The lie had rolled easily off his tongue. Nobody in this room would see him hurt.

Michael turned his head. “I was very angry and frustrated when I said I disowned you. Not that you weren’t completely out of control.”

Damian thought he’d heard some regret, but dismissed it as wishful thinking. “I was definitely out of control. Look, let’s get down to the reason I’m here so I can take my unwelcome presence and—”

“Heard you had surgery and you’re still bothered by pain at times.” Michael tilted his head and looked at him from another angle.
His eyes flickered…with what?
“Once, Alex said they never thought you’d walk again.”

Thrown off-guard by what seemed like fatherly concern, Damian dropped his gaze and mumbled, “I worked hard in rehab. I’m tough, contrary to what some people think.” How had he gotten on the topic of himself? With an edge to his voice, he said, “I’m here about Miles. I had a talk with my son last night.” He felt his temper rising. “You hit him with a belt. What the hell was that all about?”

“Discipline.” His father’s gaze met his boldly. “He gets out of control, like you did.”

Damian felt his body stiffen. “Yeah, well, that’ll be the last time you ever do that. If you want to see Miles from now on, you’ll need supervision. Either Casey or I will have to stay.”

“Bullcrap!” Sam shot.

His father looked surprised at first. When Damian’s words seemed to sink in, he stayed calm, but a tic in his jaw betrayed his tension. Glancing at Casey he asked, “Do you agree? You’re his guardian, not him.”

“Yes!” Casey said. “Nobody hits my son, especially with a belt!”

Damian’s gaze slid toward Sam. “And, you bastard, you don’t treat my kid like he’s in the military and make him do push-ups.”

“He’s undisciplined,” Sam said, without apology. “I’ll see him
unsupervised
if I want. Try and stop me. That little boy is more my son than yours.”

“Stop it,” Michael said, in a firm but calm voice, putting up a hand toward Sam.

“He’s being unreasonable,” Sam said, each word a bite.

“Let me deal with this, Sam.” Michael focused his attention back on Damian. “You’ve been in town for less than a week, and you’re already stirring things up, aren’t you?”

“No. I’m protecting my son.”

Sam broke into derisive laughter. “The son you left! You chose booze over that son. You don’t even know him.” Sam stepped forward and grabbed the front of his shirt, his teeth clenched.

Damian shoved at him, but he wouldn’t let go. “Didn’t you learn anything yesterday?” Damian’s voice rose as he pushed him away again, hard and with success.

“Don’t fight!” Michael Ballantine sounded dangerous. The authority in his voice affected Sam at once. He backed off, but his eyes had turned to slits and his lips slashed into a straight line.

When Damian flashed Sam an icy grin, his brother lifted his fist.

“Sam!” Michael commanded.

Sam’s throat worked hard, but he dropped his arm to his side, turning around. “I hate you, Damian.”

“Wow, that hurts! I may have to jump off a bridge.”

“Allow me to find that bridge.” He turned around again, his features hard.

“I’m not too fond of you either,” Damian said. He felt his breathing deepen. If he hated anyone more than Sam, he couldn’t think of that person. Yet, in the back of his mind, where he tried to suppress certain difficult emotions, he remembered the older brother he’d loved very much. The brother he still loved, underneath his anger and resentment.

“Stop this!” Michael put his hands low on his hips and stared at Damian. “So because I disciplined Miles a little too harshly a few times, I can’t see him alone anymore? My only grandchild?”

“A little too harshly?” Damian stared at him in disbelief, recalling the look in his son’s eyes. “You did it to me, but you won’t do that to Miles.”

“You deserved it, you shit!” Sam flung the words. “Besides, we all got the belt at times. You got it the most because you didn’t know how to behave. Still don’t.”

Damian glared at Sam. “None of us deserved that belt, shithead, not even you. And Miles won’t ever get it again. The calisthenics either. That’s over.”

“This is bullshit!” Sam said, looking first at his father and then back at him.

If looks could kill, Damian knew he’d have been shot twice—from both of Sam’s eyes.

“Sam,” Casey said, in a tone that indicated a wish to be conciliatory, “Damian connected with Miles right away. It was—touching.”

Sam let out an ugly snort. “Damian will let the poor kid down, like he lets everyone down.” His cold gaze struck Damian in the face. “I won’t stand by and watch you destroy the boy I love, like my own kid!”

Damian had heard enough from Sam, partly because he spoke the truth. He’d hurt Miles. He knew it; nobody knew it as acutely as he did, having just seen his son. He’d never do it again, never walk out on his child. Sam was pushing all of his buttons, bringing up the numerous things he was beating himself up over. Why couldn’t his damn older brother, the one who used to protect him, give him the benefit of the doubt? Couldn’t Sam grant him one last chance? Both out of anger and hurt, Damian stepped forward and grabbed Sam by his collar, ripping his tie off and throwing it to the carpet.

“No!” Casey called out, in a firm voice. “Damian, don’t!”

Sam pulled back a fist.

“Damnit to hell! For the last time before
I
call the cops on both of you, no fighting! Michael’s hard command echoed off the walls.

Sam glanced at his father, and then shoved Damian backwards. Damian turned his ankle as he landed the wrong way on his abused right leg. The dreaded but familiar slice of pain shot down his leg with venom. It pierced him from his thigh to his toes and he heard himself gasping as he bent over. Casey gripped the sides of his arms and he quickly grabbed her shoulders, letting her take some of his weight. God, she was strong! He was able to recover and pull himself up, even with the throbbing. He cursed, embarrassed that Sam had seen his vulnerability. “Please let go; I’m better,” he whispered to Casey.

She understood and did. It had happened very quickly. Michael came forward as fast as he could and clenched strong hands on his biceps. “You all right now?”

“Fine. I don’t need anyone holding me up.” He dropped his head. This wasn’t going well. Michael and Sam would see this as more of his weakness. It was embarrassing.

Michael held on a second longer, and then let go and backed up. “You should sit down.”

He sounded concerned. Oh, that couldn’t be. Damian figured that the pressure had gotten to him and had affected his perception.

“I don’t have to sit down.”
Screw it.
For whatever reason, his father was concerned.
Right?
Confused, he said, “Why are you acting like this?” He looked at his father who’d disowned him, and suddenly anger swelled within him. “You don’t give a shit about me. You don’t give a shit about anything, except your business. I know what’s been going on with the mill. You’re fucking the entire town!”

“I’m calling the cops to get him out of here.” Sam voice sliced with viciousness.

“No!” Michael spoke swift and loud.

Damian shot a look at his brother. Sam thrust out his chin, and Damian’s body tensed. He then glanced at Casey who looked every bit as tense as he felt. The air seemed to crackle with tension. Sucking in a deep breath, he looked at his father again, waiting to see if he said anything about his feelings toward him. Never happened, but Michael had acted genuinely concerned about him today, something he hadn’t expected. Did he forgive him for his years of drinking and getting into trouble? If he did, could he forgive his father for disowning him?

The clock ticked and nobody spoke. Damian decided it was best to leave before the already thick atmosphere exploded. He’d stated his reason for coming. It was done. His gaze found Casey’s. “Let’s go.” He felt tired and emotionally depleted as he took her arm, and started guiding her out of the office.

“Damian, wait.”

Damian halted, not turning around. “Yeah?”
What now?
He just wanted to get the hell out of there so he could finally take a full breath.

Then his father astounded him. He almost questioned if he was hearing right.

“I’m sorry I hit Miles. I was taught to discipline that way, but I know you and Casey don’t approve of it.”

Damian had no idea how to respond. His father never apologized.

“I was wrong. Wrong to hit Miles.”

“Shit!” Sam uttered.

Damian barely heard Sam. Was this really Michael Ballantine? He said he was wrong? His father? He slowly turned around, his mind reeling. “You still can’t see Miles alone. Not until I can trust you. Until Casey and I agree to it, nothing changes.”

It was Sam who responded, cutting in front of his father, his body tensed and ready to fight.

“You’re the one who shouldn’t be allowed to see Miles alone! Maybe Child Protective Services would agree. I’m friendly with the head of the department.” Sam flashed a baiting, arrogant grin.

Damian believed Sam would try to mess with him and his son. Teeth clenched, he rushed at his brother and grabbed the front of his shirt. He really wanted his throat.
“You bastard! Don’t even think about trying to keep me from my son! You’re right, I left the poor kid, but and he needs me now and you’d better not interfere!”

Michael stepped between them and grabbed Damian by the shoulders, pushing him backwards. “Easy,” he said.

Damian was livid, shaking. “You can’t let him do that, Dad! Miles needs to know me, and see I’ve changed. Even if you don’t like me, you can’t allow Sam to do anything to jeopardize our relationship. You think I don’t know what I’ve done to my son? Let me undo it!”

Michael’s eyes, slate gray, seemed to soften.
Soften!