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Swear To Me
The Clarke Brothers series: Book 2
1
Dominic
I love the smell of sulfur that hits my nose when the match bursts to life.
I watch the tiny flame for a second as it shifts and dances in the light breeze. I glance up at the sky, littered with a million stars, and then down to the huge, looming building in front of me.
I can smell the gasoline soaking into the ground and into the timber at my feet. The luxury hotel is like a stain on the side of the mountain. It shouldn't be here. Still, as I stand here with the match in my hand, I can’t help but hesitate.
My brother Ethan drops his match. I hear the whoosh and crack of a new fire coming to life across the construction site. Sheriff Whittaker is next, igniting the north side of the building. I watch the two fires start to lick at the new construction. They climb up the bare beams and travel along the trails of gasoline that we sprayed all over the ground floor.
The match is burning close to my fingers. I watch the small flame for a second more, and finally drop it at my feet. I take a step back as the gasoline ignites. It starts as a low blue flame, traveling fast along the fuel that I just splashed over the ground. A deep sense of satisfaction wells up inside me as I watch the fire ignite. I’m transfixed, watching the flames as they dance along the side of the half-built hotel. The heat of the fire starts to warm my face and clothes until it’s almost too much. When it starts climbing up the beams, I turn away and walk back toward the trailhead where we came from.
Ethan and Bill are already there. They nod at me, and the three of us turn toward the building once again. We watch it in silence until the flames have overtaken the half-constructed luxury hotel.
“Let’s get out of here,” Ethan says in a low voice. I grunt in response and turn back toward the trail. We walk in silence, waiting a few minutes before fishing our head lamps out of our pockets and turning them on. It’s a two-mile hike before we get to the old logging road where we parked our trucks.
When we get there, Bill extends a hand toward me. “Good work, Dominic. Ethan. I never thought I’d commit a felony as Sheriff, but I can’t feel guilty about this one. That hotel would have been the end of this town – and the end of these forests as we know them.”
“It’s better off gone,” Ethan replies. Bill nods his hand and heads toward his truck. I jump into mine and Ethan gets into the passenger seat. The engine rumbles to life and the two of us head back down toward the town of Lang Creek.
We crest a hill and I see the fire burning behind us in my rear-view mirror. I stop the truck and jump out. Ethan follows. We climb into the bed of the pickup and watch the fire burn for a few minutes. As the flames lick higher and higher, the corners of my lips start to lift up with it. A siren wails in the distance, and Ethan and I exchange a knowing look.
Gradually, a laugh starts rolling through my chest until my shoulders are shaking and I’m throwing my head back. I clap my brother on the back and he grins at me.
“I can’t believe we fucking did that,” I finally say as I shake my head.
Ethan laughs. “I can.”
“Let’s go,” I finally say, staring at the fire one last time and shaking my head. As we drive away, the smell of smoke lingers in my nostrils and I grin. It’s a crime, and it should be wrong, but it feels so, so right.
One year later…
I look at the dregs of beer left in the bottom of my bottle and I sigh. It’s probably time to go home now. My brother Aiden and his new wife Madeline are cuddling at the long table with stars in their eyes.
It was a great ceremony and a beautiful wedding that the whole town came to. I’m happy for him, of course. He’s my brother. How could I not be happy for him? He’s found a beautiful wife, started his own garage and hardware store in town, and finally found happiness. After ten years of grief following Dad’s death, that’s something to celebrate. I just can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t right.
Maybe this sour feeling in the pit of my stomach is just plain old jealousy.
I jump when Bill Whittaker puts his hand on my shoulder. He hands me a new beer and I nod in thanks.
“Why the long face, Dominic? Aren’t you happy for your brother?”
“Delighted,” I say. “Just tired, I think. Long day.”
Bill takes a seat next to me. He spreads his legs wide and sighs. It’s strange seeing him in regular clothes. He’s usually wearing his dark blue uniform and wide-brim hat. Even when we snuck through the forest to burn down that damned hotel, he was in uniform. He looks over at Aiden and Maddy and nods.
“They make a good couple. Aiden deserves a bit of peace.”
I don’t bother looking over at my brother and his new wife. I grunt in response and put my empty beer bottle down on the table in front of me. The plastic chair groans underneath me as I move, and I wonder how long until it collapses. It probably wasn’t made for someone my size.
Bill stares at me for a few moments. “Are you okay, Dominic? Ever since that whole thing with the hotel…”
“I’m fine,” I interrupt. “Fine.”
Bill stares at me and nods his head a few times. “Are you having regrets?”
“Regrets?” I say, shifting my weight again and looking at him. I snort, and for the first time in hours, my lips curl into a grin. “Not a fucking chance.”
Bill laughs and raises his beer toward me. I clink my fresh bottle against his and smile again, shaking my head. “Best thing we ever did was burn that thing down,” I say before taking a sip.
“Yup,” Bill replies.
The two of us fall into a comfortable silence and I think about that night last year. The whole town was up in arms about the new luxury hotel being built on the outskirts of town. When it burned down, it was like everyone celebrated for weeks. Everyone except the McCoys, obviously. They owned part of the new hotel before it unfortunately went up in flames.
People suspected my brothers and me, and the three of us were treated like heroes. Aiden didn’t have anything to do with it, but it’s not the type of thing you talk about after it’s done. I hadn’t expected that much attention. They still look at me differently, even a year later. It’s almost like a sort of reverence.
The McCoys haven’t said a word to me since the whole thing happened, and I’m not complaining. They keep to their side of town, and I keep to mine. I still have that deep, endless desire to get even with them, but I don’t know how.
I shake my head to pull myself out of my reverie and nod to Bill.
“I’ll see you around, Bill. Time for me to head home.”
“Take it easy, big fella.”
I stand up and stretch my body. I’ve been working hard at my workshop lately, and every muscle in my body is screaming for rest.
“Hey,” Bill calls out as I turn away. I look over my shoulder at him. “You heard Mara McCoy’s coming back?”
I frown as I think of the McCoy girl. I shake my head. “No, is she?”
“Due back any day now. Didn’t work out with her rich businessman.”
I grunt in response before turning away. Why is he telling me that? Why would I care? Something stirs in the depth of my stomach as I think of the McCoy girl, but I shake my head and ignore it.
It takes a few minutes to say my goodbyes, and I breathe a sigh of relief when I finally head down the mountain toward my little cabin on the outskirts of town.
As much as I love my brother, and as much as I’m happy for him, I can’t wait to be back in the peace and quiet of my own four walls.
2
Mara
“The car is waiting outside, ma’am,” Claire says. I look at my fiancé’s personal assistant and nod. Well, ex-fiancé’s personal assistant, I guess.
I zip up my last suitcase and stand it up. Claire makes a move toward me, but I hold up a hand.
; “It’s okay, I’ll bring it down.”
“Sure,” she says. She’s a true professional. This whole time, she’s kept a straight face and helped me as much as she could as I moved out of this beautiful house. I’ve called this place home for the past two years, and now I’m being thrown out like some kind of squatter. Vincent didn’t even have the decency to come here himself. He sent his assistant to deal with me, and that stings almost as much as the breakup.
I swallow my bitterness and square my shoulders. Lifting my chin up, I wheel the last of my suitcases out the door. I hear it click shut behind me and Claire’s footsteps follow a few seconds later. We walk down the hallway in silence, both staring straight ahead. Not a word is spoken between us until we walk out the front door and get to the car. The driver grabs my suitcase from me and packs it into the trunk before opening the back door for me.
I have one foot already in the car when Claire clears her throat. I look at her, wondering what other ridiculous request Vincent has made. I almost feel sorry for her. She still has to put up with him.
“Miss McCoy,” she says, hesitating. “For what it’s worth, I thought you were wonderful. I’m sorry –”
“Don’t apologize, Claire,” I say as a pang passes through my heart. “It’s not you that should be sorry. And for the last time, call me Mara!”
There’s a hint of a grin on Claire’s face, and she nods her chin down once. “Mara, then. Good luck.”
I climb into the car as the driver shuts the door. He slides into the driver’s seat and thankfully doesn’t say a word to me as we head toward the airport. We drive through the winding roads, packed with mansion after mansion before we get onto the freeway. I watch the buildings go by and bid a silent goodbye to Silicon Valley.
Maybe this is for the best. I’m not a California girl. Never was, and probably never will be. I’ve never fit in here. I’m from a tiny town in the heart of the Adirondack mountains, where the trees are old and the mountains are older. I take a deep breath and close my eyes, leaning my head back on the headrest.
A tear falls from the corner of my eye and I quickly brush it away. I didn’t think it would end this way, and the shock of it still hurts almost more than the fact that it’s over. Like a fool, I thought Vincent actually loved me. I thought he’d wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. Like a fool, I thought the construction of the hotel at Lang Creek was secondary to our relationship. I thought that luxury hotel brought us together, and love united us – not the money the hotel would bring.
I was wrong.
It stings – the rejection. It makes my heart squeeze and my cheeks burn when I think about it. How could I be so stupid? I should have known at the very beginning. I saw Vincent’s demeanor change from cold and distant to charming the instant the hotel deal was on the table. I should have known it wasn't love.
I was nothing but a pawn that my parents used. Again.
Another tear escapes my eyes and I brush it away angrily. I set my jaw. I’m not going to let that happen again. I won’t be used and sold off to some rich businessman just so my parents can profit off it.
That hotel burning down was the best thing that ever happened to me. Now I know who Vincent is, and I won’t be married to him for the rest of my life. Now I know that my parents think they can use me for their own personal gain.
The bitterness seeps into my veins and I savor the taste of it. I’ve been such a fool. I’ve believed I was loved and appreciated for who I was, but I’ve only ever been loved for what I have. And now? What do I have? A broken engagement, no money, no prospects… I’ve got nothing. I have to go back to the people that put me in this position in the first place.
My parents got a tidy sum from the insurance company when the hotel burned down. That helped ease their fury at the whole thing. They still haven’t forgiven the Clarke brothers, but what can they do when the Sheriff himself won’t do anything about it?
I smile as I think of the small-town politics I’m about to fly back into. It’s like a hornet’s nest, and for the first time in my life I’m going back with my eyes wide open. I know who my parents are. I know how they’ve built their business and made their money, and I know that it hasn’t been from honest, hard work.
I don’t want to be a part of that – but for now, I need some time to get back on my feet. I’m still reeling from Vincent breaking off the engagement, and my head spins whenever I think of my parents.
I just need some time to figure everything out. I need to figure out who I am and what I want. I won’t be used in any other business deals. I won’t be sold off to the highest bidder and then returned when it all falls to pieces. I’m going to go back home and tell them exactly what I think of them.
The driver pulls up to the airport departures and hops out of the driver’s seat. By the time I’ve climbed out of the car, he’s found a cart and started loading my bags onto it. He smiles at me sadly and touches his cap.
“Good luck, Miss McCoy.”
“Thanks, Will. Take care.”
I grab the handle on the cart and set off toward the airport’s sliding glass doors without looking back. My heart is beating and my mouth feels dry as I check into my flight and make my way through security. I never thought I’d be this nervous to go home.
When the plane lifts off the runway, I watch the brown and green hills fall away beneath me. I catch a glimpse of the ocean before we turn east and I bid it another silent goodbye. My heart feels a little bit lighter when I think of the mountains I’m heading back to. My lips curl into a smile and I rest my head back in my seat. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. All I breathe is stale airplane air, but I can almost taste the sweet, fresh air of the Adirondack mountains. In a few short hours, I’ll be home.
3
Dominic
I wake up to the grey light of dawn – to an aching body and a pounding headache. I didn’t think I’d drank that much at the wedding, but maybe my age is finally catching up to me. I groan as I get out of bed and stretch my stiff limbs. There’s a chill in the air, even though summer is on its way. A shiver passes through my body and I rub my eyes before getting up.
It’s not until the scalding hot water from the shower hits my body that I truly start to wake up. I wash myself slowly until I can move normally again, and then pour myself some coffee before heading out to the workshop.
The mug is steaming and I can see my breath as I make the short walk across the yard toward my workshop. It’s bigger than my house, but I don’t mind. I don’t need much room to live, but I do need room to work. I throw open the door and turn the space heater on to warm up the shop. I’ll need my fingers to be working properly. I’ve got a lot of detail work to finish up today.
My father is the one who showed me the basics of woodworking. He bought me my first tools and encouraged me to make toys and small pieces of furniture from the time I was a pre-teen. Every time I walk into the workshop and smell the sawdust and fresh cut wood, it takes me back to my youth. I turn to my workbench and look at the half-finished chair that’s laying there. I’ll have to finish the whole set by the end of the week to fill this order. After that, I’m not sure what I’ll do. My list of orders is worryingly short.
Furniture-making suits me. I like being alone. I like working alone. The hum of the lathe and the whining of the saw never fails to clear my head and put me in a state of Zen. I grab the intricate latticework that I started on the back of the chair and inspect yesterday’s work.
Not bad.
Business was growing, for a while. I was making a name for myself as the best custom furniture maker in the area. I was even starting to get orders from out of state. But when the hotel burned down, it suddenly seemed like a lot of the bigger companies didn’t want to be associated with me anymore.
I keep telling myself it was the right thing to do – that in the long run it’s best that the hotel doesn’t exist. Still, I wish it hadn’t had such a dramatic effect on my business. I lost a couple contracts
, and then things slowed so much that I’m starting to get worried about where my next job will come from.
It’s not a good place to be. I glance over at the table and half-finished chairs that I’ve made for this order, and I try to ignore the gnawing thought at the back of my mind:
After this one, I’ve got nothing.
I take a sip of coffee and put the thought out of my mind. I take a piece of oak and measure it up for a chair leg. Soon, I’m in my element. I’m not thinking about the next job, or money, or my brother and his wife, or the hotel. I’m not thinking about Mara, or why I care that she’s coming back. All that exists is the grain of the wood under my calloused fingers and the smell of sawdust in the workshop.
Soon, I’m taking off my jacket and turning off the space heater. I brush my hair off my forehead and open the big garage door at the front of the workshop to let some cool air in.
The late spring sun is starting to warm up the earth, and I take a moment to breathe in the fresh mountain air. The cobwebs in my mind have cleared. I know things will work out – they always do. I’m just not sure how. At the end of the day, I’m working for myself in this little paradise in the Adirondacks. What else could I want?
As the thought crosses my mind, a truck turns down the quiet road leading to my home and stops out front of the workshop. Aiden and his new bride hop out.
“Dominic!” he calls out, raising his hand in the air.
I nod to them. “Aiden, Maddy,” I say. It’s the first thing I’ve said all morning, and the words come out as a growl.
“We wanted to stop by to say thank you for yesterday. Your speech was beautiful. Here,” Maddy says, handing me a small box.
I shake my head. “You didn’t need to get me anything,” I say.
She smiles. “Open it.”
The Clarke Brothers (Complete Series) Page 17