Claiming Johnny: A New-Adult Novel Read online

  CLAIMING JOHNNY

  A NEW-ADULT NOVEL

  BOOK IV

  BY RACHEL DUNNING

  Copyright © 2015 Rachel Dunning.

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  Book Cover Design, Copyright 2015 Rachel Dunning

  First Edition.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Also by Rachel Dunning

  Naive Mistakes Series

  (New Adult Romance)

  Finding North

  East Rising

  West-End Boys

  Deep South

  Johnny Series

  (New Adult Romance)

  Johnny

  Losing Johnny

  Taking Johnny

  Claiming Johnny

  Truthful Lies Series

  (New Adult Romance)

  Know Me

  Find Me

  Need Me

  Mind Games Series

  (Paranormal Romance)

  His Mind Games

  Her Mind Games

  Hot Holidays Series

  (Adult Contemporary Romance)

  Christmas Comfort

  Easter Sundae

  Standalones

  (New Adult Romance)

  Like You

  Red-Hot Blues

  For my fans.

  I hope this one makes you happy.

  Table of Contents

  -1-

  -2-

  -3-

  -4-

  -5-

  -6-

  -7-

  -8-

  -9-

  -10-

  -11-

  -12-

  -13-

  -14-

  -15-

  -16-

  -17-

  -18-

  -19-

  -20-

  -21-

  -22-

  -23-

  -24-

  -25-

  -26-

  -27-

  -28-

  -29-

  -30-

  -31-

  -32-

  -33-

  -34-

  -35-

  -36-

  -37-

  -38-

  -39-

  -40-

  -41-

  -42-

  -43-

  -44-

  -45-

  -46-

  -47-

  -48-

  -49-

  -50-

  -51-

  -52-

  -53-

  -54-

  -55-

  -56-

  -57-

  -58-

  -59-

  -60-

  -61-

  -62-

  -63-

  -64-

  -65-

  -66-

  -67-

  -68-

  -69-

  -70-

  -71-

  -72-

  Deleted Scene

  From the Author

  Contact the Author

  Also by Rachel Dunning

  ~Cat~

  -1-

  “Thanks for coming,” Johnny says, pulling himself onto the barstool next to me.

  I curl my fingers around the Sam Adams I ordered and take a slow sip. “No problem.”

  Johnny orders a whiskey, not like him.

  “Everything OK?”

  Johnny says nothing, only waits for the drink. When it arrives, he downs it in one gulp, orders another one.

  Definitely not like him. I swirl to face him—

  God, why did he have to be wearing a suit? His top button’s undone, showing off the mass of muscle at his chest, his shoulders pressing against the navy blue jacket like it’s about to burst.

  And his hair’s a mess, as if he’s been running his hands through it.

  “It’s Nicole,” he says. And then, after a pause: “Again.”

  I grab my beer, more to have something to do instead of just staring at him. “I’ll talk to her.”

  “Again,” he says.

  “I’ll talk to her.”

  “She won’t listen.”

  “I’ll talk to her.”

  Johnny’s green eyes close. There’s so much pain on his face that I can’t help but hurt for him. “I want this baby, Cat. I do.”

  “I know.”

  “But she doesn’t. And she’s killing it.”

  I take down several large gulps of the beer. “I...know. Where’s she now?”

  Johnny stares at me blankly. “A pregnant woman? Let’s see, maybe that new nightclub on fourth? Maybe down in Bushwick? Hell, maybe she’s gone down to Vegas to get high.”

  I shake my head. “You have no idea?”

  “She stormed out the house. I chased her but slowed down when she started running down the stairs. I was worried I’d make her fall or something. She was jumping into a cab when I got outside. Not answering her phone.”

  Again.

  “Maybe she’ll pick up for you,” he says.

  I chug the beer again. It’s empty. I lift it up to the bartender, and he smiles at me with his bright brown eyes. Then his smile fades when he looks at Johnny. “I...already tried,” I say.

  “She’s not answering you either?”

  I shake my head.

  “Goddamnit.” Johnny turns to face the bar, puts his hand around the empty glass, about to pick it up.

  My hand lands on his, and for a second, a tiny second, the world stops. “That’s not gonna help, Johnny. She’ll be home soon, and it’ll suck if you’re drunk.”

  Johnny’s grip tightens on the glass. “I’ll be more sober than she is.” And then he thrusts his hand up, glass in hand, and orders another Jack Daniels.

  -2-

  Every ten minutes Johnny calls Nic again. So do I. No answer.

  And every ten minutes, Johnny orders another drink.

  “Johnny,” I say quietly. “C’mon, this isn’t like you.”

  He tries to look at me, but his eyes lose focus. “I...I...thiz izh like me, Cat. Dontchoo remember? Hmmmmmm?” His head sways left. “When I was in Por-choo-gill, I drank like a shkunk.” He cocks an eyebrow. “No, not a shkunk...like a...like...” His eyes go distant.

  “Johnny, please.”

  “Fish!” he says. “Fishy-fish-fish! I drank like a fish when I wazh in Por-choo-gill, Catherine. I remember, wazh after you...” His head lolls to the side.

  “OK, buddy, time to get you home.”

  I get up off the barstool and consider how best to put Johnny around my shoulders.

  A problem.

  Johnny’s...well...huge. And I’m tiny. So...

  “OK,” I say, “somehow we gotta manage this.”

  I grab his wrist and wrap his arm around me. He almost stumbles when he gets up, puts his hand down on the stool to hold himself up. The cute bartender (very tall, very muscular) steps out from behind the bar and grabs Johnny, smiles at me. Smiles at me widely.

  “I can handjle mashelf,” Johnny says.

  The bartender rolls his eyes.

  He thrusts Johnny’s arm around his shoulders, and even the tall bartender has trouble with Johnny’s mass. Muscle weighs more than blubber, and Johnny has a ton of it.

  The bartender gets Johnn
y outside. “I told-joo, I can handjle mahshelf.” Johnny makes an effort to act macho, but he can hardly stand.

  “OK, tough guy,” I say, “stand back.” I step in between him and the bartender (who seemed to be playing it cool, until Johnny got cocky...) and put my arms around Johnny. “Just sit, Johnny. It’ll be cool.”

  I look up at the bartender. His face is darker now. He nods slightly, letting me know his job is done. I mouth Thank you.

  He nods again, puts his hand into his pocket, hands me a business card. Karl, it says. Just Karl. And there’s a telephone number.

  He’s grinning when I grab it, and then he turns and disappears.

  Johnny’s on the curb, his hand in his hair.

  I sit next to him.

  “Don’t call a cab,” he says, sounding a lot more sober suddenly. “Just don’t, Cat. I don’t...” He looks up at the New York street, his eyes shining. “I can’t see her, Cat. If she’s at home...I can’t see her. I just can’t.”

  We sit on the side of the road for at least thirty minutes, saying nothing, nothing at all, watching traffic stream by, a couple on the other side of the road, a girl with purple hair and a dude with rings in every orifice (that we can see.)

  I text Nic at least twenty times.

  I call her at least ten.

  No answer.

  No answer at all.

  If she hadn’t done this before (which she has, this is the third time) I’d be more worried.

  But still. I am worried.

  At around midnight, Johnny struggles to get himself up, the after-effects of booze clearly on his face. He squints, narrows his eyes. “I’m gonna have a fucking huge headache tomorrow,” he says. “Thanks, Cat. I...” He shakes his head, sighs. “I...I...needed that.”

  “Anytime.”

  “I’ll get home OK from here.”

  I stand, dust my ass. “Johnny, I’m gonna take you home, and I’m gonna make sure you get in the door.”

  Johnny hesitates.

  “What?” I say.

  “Cat...” He runs his hand through his black hair, his brilliant green eyes still red from the booze. “It’s not a good idea.”

  “Huh? C’mon, Johnny, we’re past that.”

  He shakes his head slowly. “Not us,” he says.

  “What do you mean?”

  A car screams past, honking, the driver shouting, “Fuck you!” out the window.

  “Nic,” Johnny says. “She’s... It must be the hormones, Cat. I mean, it must be. She feels...threatened...by you.”

  A lead weight settles in my heart. “My best friend...feels...threatened?”

  Johnny looks away.

  “What aren’t you saying, Johnny?”

  His jaw grinds. “Cat, it would just be best...if I walked in my door alone.”

  “You’re frickin kidding me. You know I’d never do that.”

  Johnny’s eyes are sorrowful. “I know you wouldn’t,” he whispers. “I know. She’s screwed up right now, Cat. Totally...screwed up. I... It’ll pass.”

  “She needs help, Johnny. If not for her, for the kid. She can’t be drinking and smoking when she’s pregnant, but especially not in the first few months!”

  Johnny’s face turns into an ugly, heavy rock. So much weight on his shoulders.

  “Oh, God.” I run my hand through my hair. “I’m gonna talk to her, Johnny. I mean...talk. I’m gonna give her a piece of my mind. She’s messing with two lives now, not only her own.”

  “You don’t think I know that?”

  “Text me when she gets home. We’re gonna do an intervention or something. This is too far.”

  A mountain of relief washes over his face. “I was hoping you’d say that,” he says. “And bring Alice. I’ll leave the house.”

  “No, you need to be there!”

  Johnny’s lids close. “No,” he croaks. “No, Cat. Nic doesn’t listen to me. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she even loathes me, as if my cock is the cause of all her troubles because it got her pregnant.”

  “OK. Fine. OK. OK.” I’m saying this more to myself than to him. “Let me know when she arrives. And we’ll be there.”

  Johnny looks at me for a long while. “Thank you, Cat. I know I don’t deserve this.”

  “Oh, knock off that crap. We’re supposed to be friends. Me, you and Nic. This has gone too far.”

  Again, that look, deep, penetrating. Johnny takes a step forward. “Thank you.” He pulls me into his massive body, curls his arms around me.

  I think I feel him tremble as he holds me. But I’m not sure.

  -3-

  “So how’s Nic?” Alice asks as I walk in the door.

  “Don’t ask.”

  “And Johnny?”

  Terrible. “He’s OK.”

  Alice cocks an eyebrow from behind the counter.

  “OK, fine, he’s terrible.”

  She pulls her wine closer, holds it to her nose. Sips.

  “What?” I say.

  “Nothing.”

  “I can feel you wanna say something, so just say it.” Alice’s blue eyes, eyes like mine, look up from behind the red wine, mischievous.

  “It’s...nothing.”

  I head toward my studio, not because I have anything particularly to do in there, but because it’s the only room in the house that feels completely mine. Nicole’s door is closed. Well, the room which once was Nicole’s. She hasn’t lived there in months. But Alice never took it down. Either she really likes pink and pictures of semi-naked tattooed men on the walls, or Alice has come to feel about Nicole like I’ve felt about her ever since our road trip.

  Like she’s my sister.

  I rifle through some of my shots, sexy dudes on motorcycles and sexy dudes at the beach. Rock stars, movie stars (not the really big ones, but one day I’ll get there.) The book launch is coming up in a few months. It’ll be a big do...

  And, heck, I don’t even have a date.

  I feel Alice walking into the studio more than hear her.

  I try and ignore her. Truth is, I wanna talk to her about Nic. I do. I just... God, she and Johnny were supposed to be perfect. After all the drama, all the back and forth, discussions, checking if it was OK, was it?, wasn’t it?, are you OK with it?—it was supposed to be final.

  They were supposed to be happy, damnit.

  “Are you OK?” Alice asks.

  I stop shuffling the pictures through my fingers.

  “I’m fine,” I shoot out.

  She steps closer.

  “Alice,” I say, almost irritated. “I’m...fine.”

  “Well, fine then.”

  I hear her turning, heading out toward the living area.

  “Alice,” I say suddenly, swirling to see her.

  “Yeah?”

  “They were supposed to be happy, mom. They were supposed to be...”

  Alice shrugs, a light smirk on her face. “I know.”

  I shake my head, not sure what to say. “Don’t you have any motherly advice?”

  She cocks an eyebrow again. Alice is an expert at doing that. “Motherly? Hell, Cat, I can’t even remember the last time you called me mom. This was a shock. Now, if you want some womanly advice, I can give you that.”

  I hold the prints in my hand, look at them for no reason.

  “I take that as a yes,” she says. She puts her drink down on the nearest table, steps closer to me. “Life ticks on, Cat. Day by day. And every day, people do things, people make choices, and those choices have consequences. The past does not determine the future. The present determines the future. All you can do is watch how things play out, and make your choices.”

  “That was deep.”

  Alice grins. “I know, Thunder’s real philosophical.”

  “When’s he gonna be back?”

  She shrugs. “He comes and goes, y’know.”

  “Don’t you mind?”

  “I know what I mean to him, honey. So yeah, I don’t mind. But more details than that, you’re not ge
tting. You might have called me Alice since you were eighteen, but certain boundaries we just won’t cross.” She winks at me.

  Er, yeah, let’s never cross that boundary.

  She turns to leave.

  “We need to be on call tonight,” I blurt out.

  “I figured.”

  “For...an intervention.”

  “It’s about time.” And then she’s gone, wineglass in hand.

  One of the photos in my hand is of Nic and Johnny, smiling brightly, Nic’s hand on her belly. They had asked me to take it after announcing the pregnancy. I had mixed emotions about it. Actually, it felt like I’d been hit with a fist. But I played the adult. And I really was happy for her.

  You can’t even tell she’s pregnant in this shot.

  -4-

  “You’re avoiding me, Catherine.” Nathan’s voice is raspy on the phone.

  “Nathan, I’m not. I just have stuff going on.”

  “Oh, c’mon, Catherine, you never have ‘stuff’ going on.”

  Actually, I do, but we’re too quick to jump in the sack for me to get to any of it.

  “When will you be driving up again?” he asks.

  “Not...not now, Nathan. I have the book release coming up, I have to be at interviews...”

  “Sounds like a whole lotta excuses to me.”

  “Nathan, where do we stand, you and I?”

  He says nothing.

  “Nathan?”

  “You wanna know...where we stand.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I thought we were having fun.”

  “Just...fun?”

  “Well, isn’t that what you wanted?”

  I pinch my temples. “I...yeah, I mean... Look, Nathan, maybe we should hold off on things for a bit.”

  “I’ve given you all the freedom you want, Cat. We’re not technically a ‘thing.’”

  And that’s the problem. “Yeah, I know.”

  “How long,” he says. Not a question.

  I say nothing.

  “How long, Catherine. How long do you want to ‘hold off’ on things?”

  I shake my head. I’m trying to take it easy on him. Nathan hasn’t really ‘been there’ for me, but he’s not a bad guy. He has hormones. He likes having sex...a little too much. It’s all he seems to like about me.