The Romeo Arrangement: A Small Town Romance

by Nicole Snow

  “That was Dr. Abrams’ assessment when she checked in on him last night. I agree with her; Nelson should be doing very well by then.” She covers the side of her face closest to Nelson’s room and leans in, whispering, “Don’t let him off the leash too soon if you can help it, Ridge. He’s a grumpy old man, and he’s already making big plans for Montana, dreaming about fishing trips.”

  I smile. “Will do, Jackie. Let’s plan on you sticking around a little while longer.”

  “Oh, I didn’t mean he’d even need me that long,” she says. “Not every single day, I mean.”

  “Are you needed elsewhere?”

  “No, I wouldn’t mind staying, but...I don’t want you thinking I was trying to stretch out this job for money. I know who you are, I heard all the fuss in town about your big wedding plans. Even if your bank account looks nice and plump, you’ve got enough on your plate. No need to worry about an old nurse bilking you out of a few dollars. He won’t need a babysitter for three more full weeks, I assure you.”

  “Jackie...”

  I’m actually at a loss for words. I’m genuinely shocked nobody’s tried to take advantage of me even once since landing in North Dakota.

  Hell, it was a near monthly occurrence back in L.A.

  Tobin spent a few hours every week sorting my mail to filter out the obvious grifters and investment inquiries from half-baked entrepreneurs down in Silicon Valley, plus outright scammers.

  When you’re rich, everybody wants a piece of you.

  Except for in little Dallas, apparently.

  “But you won’t mind staying to help keep Nelson in line?” I ask, raising a brow. “I’ve got a bit of a situation with Grace, some unruly guests. Tobin and I will do our damnedest to make sure he doesn’t try to leave Dallas again, but somehow, I think having you around might help keep him settled for a few more weeks. With pay, of course, double what you’re making now.”

  She opens her mouth to protest, but I sharpen my look. My acting powers are still a little like a magician’s trick—a soft change in tone, a certain tilt of the head, a bossy eye goes a long way in the art of persuasion.

  “Good, then it’s settled,” I tell her, breaking into a massive grin. “I’ll tell Nelson the good news.”

  Her green eyes twinkle. “Thank you for that and the bonus pay, Ridge.”

  I give her a nod and walk over, knocking on the bedroom door.

  “Come in,” Grace calls softly from inside.

  Opening the door, I ask Nelson, “How you feeling today?”

  He glances at Grace. “Good.”

  There’s worry on Grace’s face, letting me know what they’ve been discussing.

  “Tobin’s making a list to go shopping,” I tell Grace. “He’s wondering if you need anything over here.”

  She stands up.

  “Great timing. I’ll ask Jackie and let him know.” On her way to the door, she pats Nelson’s leg. “I’ll see you later, Dad.”

  Nelson waves her off, but his eyes follow her. I recognize the longing, the regret that’s reflected in them. He looks old and frail now, but that’s the pneumonia and age to some extent.

  There’s no doubt he was once a strong, able-bodied man like me whose highest focus was taking care of his family. It poisons his heart to know the trouble he’s caused.

  I close the door and sit down in the empty chair next to him.

  “You asked her about The Old Town Boys?” His eyes remain on the door. “I thought—”

  “I asked because I’ve got next to nothing on the logistics, even with my FBI-trained buddy doing research. Turns out, Grendal has friends in high places, and they’ve done a shockingly good job of doctoring police reports. They’re practically a big fat question mark in FBI crime catalogs.” I lean back, resting one ankle on my opposite knee. “And Grace deserves to know, Nelson. If our plan’s going to work, we’re cluing her in on everything.”

  He nods, then shakes his head with a sigh. “I suppose it’s only right. I hardly ever gave her details, as few as I could.”

  “I’m sure you did. You thought you were protecting your daughter.”

  The air he sucks in sounds broken.

  He blinks several times. “I have my regrets. Plenty of ’em. But I’ll never regret not letting Clay Grendal get his hands on my Grace. He’ll have to kill me first.”

  Anger roils my gut.

  “What do you mean? I thought this was about money, witnesses, the fact that you’re both loose ends in an operation he needs to keep quiet?”

  “Loose ends. Right. That’s what he wants so bad, Ridge. Not just me. Her.” The words leave his mouth like a dry rattle. “He...he thinks I’ve told her everything. But I haven’t.”

  “What haven’t you told her, Nelson?” My hands form fists I hide under the chair.

  He shoots me a quick glance before bowing his head. “I was working at the railyards, loading and unloading trains, when a cable broke and wrapped around my leg. They said not to worry, that I had insurance, workman’s comp. I was out of work for six months. Workman’s comp paid for the surgeries, but nothing more. My wife, Eleanor...”

  I wait for him to catch his breath as he closes his eyes.

  “God rest her soul.” Opening his eyes, he shakes his head. “Grace looks so much like her ma. Grace was little, barely more than a baby, and Eleanor worked, took as many shifts at the laundromat as she could, but the bills piled up. By the time I went back to work, we were three months behind on our rent and borrowed all we could. We were neck-deep in debt, and it went on for years, barely scrimping by. I lived like a shadow of a man, never able to give his wife, his family, what they truly wanted...”

  His pain is real.

  My heart swells with empathy, even if it’s abstract to me.

  I’ve never lived without, not counting my time in the service. Not the way he’s describing. But I knew plenty of guys in the Army who have.

  “This new guy on our crew started telling me that he’d set up a deal for making some money on the side.” He rubs a hand through his grey hair. “He warned me it was illegal, yet I listened. Then I did more than just listen. I agreed to help him so he’d cut me in. After the yard shut down for the night, I’d stay, let in a truck or two. We’d load up the goods, mark the railcar so the people on the other end could push it out before the manifests were checked, then lock up and leave. I knew it was drugs, pills and powders and God knows what else. Once a week, the driver would give me an envelope for the last delivery stuffed with cash.”

  He looks at me, sorrow weighing heavy in his eyes.

  “I told myself I was only gonna do it until we were caught up on our bills and paid off our loans. Then I said until we bought a new car. Then until Eleanor got a new job, her farm, and then...” With another rolling sigh, he lifts up the glass of water on the table and takes a drink. “There was always another reason.”

  “That how you bought your place and the horses?” I ask.

  “Eventually, yes, but before then...there was a train derailment, not far outside of Milwaukee. The drugs were found when the Feds sent guys to investigate. I thought I was gonna get busted, locked up for sure. But this young guy shows up. Clay. He was in his late twenties back then. Told me he had connections that could make sure those drugs disappeared, were forgotten about, but I’d have to step up my game. Bigger shipments. More cargo. It was all going to the West Coast, and those were my trains, so I agreed. I did everything his men asked for several years and the payments got bigger. Never saw him again until I had to quit.”

  “Quit the railroad?” I ask, putting it all together in my head.

  “That, too. Everything was going digital, automated, even the gates. I couldn’t stay late, couldn’t let trucks in and out with the sensors and cameras improving. All the cargo was being coded, too, tracked by computers and weight. Too much risk. The money I made hadn’t made me rich. It was just always enough to make us want more. We still lived in the same apartment, but we managed
to save enough for a down payment on the farm. Grace was still young and Eleanor wanted to get her out of the city. So did I. Our neighborhood was getting rougher by the day. I asked the truck driver to send a message to the boss. I didn’t even know that was Clay for sure. I’d only seen him that one time and figured he might be some kind of shady lawyer helping out the Boys or something.”

  Fuck, did this guy get in over his head.

  I can’t stop thinking about it.

  Nelson stares off into space, and I wait a few seconds before asking, “What happened then? Tell me the rest.”

  “Clay came to our apartment. I’d be lying if I said he didn’t scare me. But I didn’t know they knew as much about me as they did. Stupid, I know, but I just wasn’t thinking deep into how all this worked. He said he appreciated all I’d done for them and his family was mine—Old Town Boys for life. My damn heart sank. He gave me a duffel bag full of cash. Said there’d always be more if I needed it, all I had to do was let him know. Eleanor didn’t want me to take the money, but I was afraid not to.”

  I say nothing until he looks up, those pale eyes of his like phantoms.

  “Now you know. I was a fool and a coward,” he whispers.

  Not quite.

  Grendal had him over a barrel and wanted to keep him there.

  “You still took their money? That last big payment?”

  He nods. “I had to. The message was clear to me. It was take it or else...” He shrugs. “He was buying my silence. If I didn’t agree, he’d do it another way. Permanently. And it wouldn’t just be me...he made sure he waited until Eleanor and Grace were in the room. The money was enough to buy the farm outright, fix it up, get pumpkins planted, buy the horses.”

  His gaze goes wistful for a second, like he’s seeing the life he always wanted.

  “I thought maybe it was all over. Maybe we’d heard the last of them. Gracie graduated, top of her class, and I had the money to pay her tuition. I was so proud. So was her mother. Eleanor got sick while Grace was wrapping up her schooling. Cancer. We didn’t tell Grace until she graduated. Eleanor fought it the whole time, but the crap kept spreading. Insurance maxed out. Wouldn’t pay for more, but she was still eaten up with cancer and forced into an early retirement. I used up our reserves taking her to the best doctor I could buy, borrowed all I could, but...goddammit, it wasn’t enough.”

  His hands are shaking now.

  The horror of his situation makes my guts churn.

  Leaning over, I lay a hand on his shoulder. “Sorry, Nelson. You tried to do right. For you, your wife, for Grace. Nothing’s completely black and white in hard times.”

  “No, it was crystal clear,” he says. “I don’t know how Clay found out about our situation, but he did. He offered me more money. Free and clear of interest for services rendered. I hadn’t heard from him for years, so I believed what he said. I paid off the medical bills, paid off the equity loans against the farm, and Grace and I went on after Eleanor died. Then the troubles started. Vandalism, fires, crops destroyed. I reported it, but the cops acted like I’d done it on purpose. So did insurance. About a year ago, Clay shows up. Said I’d missed payments on that last big loan he’d so generously offered. I apologized, promised I’d start making them right away. And I did, as much as I could. He bled us fucking dry.”

  “And it wasn’t enough,” I say after he’s quiet a long time, lost in his own head again.

  “No.” He turns, stares at me with sad, hopeless eyes. “He wanted Grace, too. I saw the way he looked at her.”

  His lips peel back, hot rage coming alive in his eyes.

  Shit.

  I’m not far behind him in the hellfire and brimstone department. Imagining the demon who’s been torturing them for years getting his hands on her gives me the urge to hire a whole hit team and end this now.

  “I swore to him Grace didn’t know anything about his gig. I barely ever said the name Old Town Boys. She didn’t know who he really was, but he said he couldn’t take that chance. He needed to talk to her.” His jaw tightens. “He...he offered to give her a better life than what she had with me.”

  He’s sick at the memory.

  Pure revulsion shows on his face.

  So does the blame for what he’d put his daughter through, the horror. Because Nelson knows exactly what men like Clay Glendal do to women when they’re through with them.

  After they get what they want.

  I do, too, no thanks to Linus Hammond.

  They dispose of them, drug them, and push them off balconies.

  I shove my hands together on my lap, careful not to let him see them twitch. It takes every morsel of discipline I’ve got to control my short fuse, this urge to start beating holes in the wall.

  “When did this happen?” I ask through clenched teeth.

  “A few years ago. The day I was shot. He would’ve killed me that day, but just wounded me instead. A neighbor driving by heard the shots and slowed down at the edge of our driveway. Clay saw the guy coming and left. I hid in the barn until the neighbor disappeared, hobbled in the house, then Grace got home and forced me to the hospital. They kept me there overnight. When I got home, I started selling whatever we had left, gave it to his goons whenever they’d show up. Usually it was Jackknife Pete playing collector. The last thing I left them was the title to the farm...” His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly. “Some escape. This is as far as we made it.”

  “He’s not going to get to Grace here,” I say, anger boiling over inside me. “I guarantee it, Nelson. You’re both in good hands.”

  “If you can’t stop him...it’s gonna be real ugly. Clay warned me not to go anywhere. Not to the police. He has connections and I’ll be the one serving time for drug trafficking. Hell, maybe I deserve to die in jail—”

  “Bullshit. That’s not going to happen,” I snap.

  “They ransacked our house a couple months ago.” His voice is soft. Sorrowful. “They...they broke Eleanor’s urn. Spread her ashes all over.” A tear slips out the corner of his eye. “Grace had to clean that up. Her own mother’s ashes.”

  I’m fucking speechless.

  And now I get why she reacted the way she did the first day she flipped over my mom’s memorial.

  My throat burns at the agony this asshole caused.

  I’m going to need Faulk, Grady, Tobin, somebody to help me cool off before I do something wild.

  “He’s not going to win, Nelson,” I manage to grind out. “Not this fucking time. Not ever again.”

  Grace isn’t in the cabin when I leave Nelson’s room, but as I step outside, I see her through the window in the sunroom.

  She’s been working on some of the other old—antique—junk she’d found in storage with Tobin’s help.

  I want to go to her, hold her, tell her that madman will have to get through me if he ever wants a piece of her.

  I’m a giant safety net, her shield, her rock.

  Only thing that riles my nerves is whether or not I’m good enough, knowing I fucking have to be.

  So I head for the front of the house and walk straight into my office, hating the fact that I’m the best she’s got.

  Who the fuck am I to be her protector, really?

  Money, fame, and military experience aside, I’ve never finished anything.

  I quit acting as a kid because I hated it, so I said I wanted to go to school.

  I almost quit school because it bored me, so I went through the motions with Tobin’s help and then right back to acting.

  Only to quit again because I still hated it and went into the Army. I blamed my decision to discharge on my mother and a random injury, but bottom line?

  I was the one who chose to quit that, too.

  Nobody else.

  Uncle Sam held me more accountable than I’d ever been in my life.

  I went back to acting and produced hit after hit until Mom’s death and the trouble with Hammond started.

  Then I tried producing a couple film
s, mangled it, quit again, left L.A. for Dallas, and truth be told...that night at the Purple Bobcat, I was considering giving this up. Moving somewhere else because I was sick of Old Man Winter.

  Boredom and crisis have been the only two constants in my life.

  Now? I’m done with all that.

  Now, I can’t fathom ever being bored of Grace Sellers.

  Now, it’s time to make a stand.

  That thought hangs heavy in my mind as I bring up my email and fire off a message to Faulk. He couldn’t find an obvious link between Nelson and Grendal himself. Maybe now, with the railyard connection and a better idea of their logistics, we’ll have enough meat to build a solid plan.

  Faulk can bring in the Feds, and I’ve already got the police at my back with Drake and Sheriff Wallace.

  Grady, he’s a natural brawler, extra muscle, and did time in the service like the rest of us.

  I’m still rolling it around in my head when I sense someone behind me. Smirking, I turn, armed with another quip about putting a goddamn bell on his neck one of these days.

  Only, the look on Tobin’s face stops me in my tracks.

  “What?” I snap. “What’s wrong?”

  “Forgive me. I couldn’t help but notice how hard you’ve been working lately, desperately searching for answers, a way to take down this gang responsible for so much misery.” He steps into my office, adjusting the perfectly starched cuffs of his shirt, his eyes flashing as he closes the door. “Ridge...perhaps the answer was always right in front of you.”

  “What’re you getting at?” I wonder, though deep down, I already think I know.

  He can’t mean...

  “Why not give Clay Grendal the same treatment Linus Hammond enjoyed?”

  Fuck, there it is.

  His eyes are like green torches, burning me alive, the very same eyes that begged me not to go that night and deliver that monster to death’s door.

  “You’re serious?” I snort, shaking my head. “Am I dreaming? Hearing this shit...from you of all people?”