He didn't blame her for keeping the truth from him. It was a pretty awful truth to have to carry around, and he had no idea what that would be like. Or how he would handle having a devil-father who'd killed the one he loved. He didn't know how Sunny had come out of all that as well-adjusted as she was.
When he thought about what her brother had done to her, he was pretty sure he was capable of killing the guy himself. He didn't like thinking it. He'd have preferred to go through life not knowing that about himself.
He still loved her. There was a lot more to get to know about her, but he hadn't found anything he didn't love yet. He didn't think he was going to. But she'd been through so much, and she was still in shock, he thought.
She sucked in a breath and sat straight up.
He was still sitting on the edge of the bed, and he caught her shoulders, hands on autopilot. "It's okay. I'm right here."
She met his eyes and it happened again. The fear went away, she smiled with her eyes, and his heart melted.
She'd better want him back, because there wasn't gonna be another woman. Not after Sunny. Who could hold a candle?
She relaxed back down, snuggling into the pillows.
His phone rang and he grabbed it off the nightstand so it wouldn't wake her, and headed out of the room.
"Hey, it's Jack. How's it going there? How's Sunny?"
"Jack. It's good to hear your voice." Oddly, he thought, he meant that. Had he actually started to like the guy? "She's okay, physically at least. She's scared."
"I don't blame her. You see Kiley?"
"Yeah. I told her you were a hero."
"You didn't have to–"
"It's the truth, Jack. You helped. A lot, and there was no reason.–"
"What reason? I'm your brother's father-in-law. There oughtta be a word for that."
"Father-out-law," Jason said.
"Oh, you must be feeling better about things, making jokes that bad."
"Is there news, Jack?"
"Yeah. Big news. The guy you tried to eviscerate is awake, doing better, out of the ICU and in a regular room, cuffed to the bedrail with a guard on his door. A dozen members of his group are coming to bust him out, and word is, Braxton Hayes will be with them."
Ice rushed up Jason's spine, making him stand straighter. "He's alive."
"Yeah, according to what the feds picked up. I guess some of the group's more active members have been discussing their plan to take Landry Mason out of the hospital."
"They actually heard them say Hayes would be with them? Were they bugged or something?" He needed to know for sure. He couldn't tell Sunny her brother was alive if he didn't know for sure."
"Probably tapped into their smartphones from outer space or some modern shit. There's no privacy anymore. Anyway, they're heading for Tucker Lake General, heavily armed, tonight."
"My God, everyone in the hospital–"
"They'll never get inside. That's why I'm calling instead of Eve. She's with her people, setting up to ambush them. The hospital will be locked up tighter'n Fort Knox."
"Good. Good. When is all this happening?"
"Now. I mean, who knows when Brax'll show up, but the cops are already at Tucker Lake General. You didn't notice the mass exodus?"
"We've been kind of holed up here. Trying to let her rest."
"They called in everyone," Jack said. "Local PDs, state police, even the feds they sent out to back up Chief Jimmy. So you can tell Sunny not to worry. If her brother's alive, he'll be in a cell before the night's out. And this time he'll stay there."
"I hope you're right," Jason said. "Thanks, Jack."
"Eve told me to call and fill you in."
"Not for the call. For...everything. I mean it. Thank you."
It took him an extra second to reply, "You're welcome."
Sunny dreamed she was sleeping in her bed, and Braxton was standing over her, his face waterlogged, his hair dripping seaweed, turning his knife slowly in his hand, and deciding where to stab her first. In the dream, she woke up and saw him there, but she couldn't move. She tried to scream, but no sound would come out. He slid the blade slowly into her belly.
She woke with a lung-bursting gasp and sat up, pressing a hand to her chest. Her heart was racing. She couldn't catch her breath.
"Hey, hey, you're all right. I'm right here." Jason sat on the edge of the bed, held her shoulders softly, gazed into her eyes. And she could breathe again.
He was fully dressed. Deep down, he must not think Braxton was dead, either. If he did, he would be in bed with her. But he was up, watchful, protective. It was just his way. His family's way. They all looked out for each other.
They wanted to look out for her, too. They'd get hurt though.
She flung back the covers, and slid out the other side of the bed.
"You've only had a few hours of sleep," Jason said.
"The dreams are too bad. I can't close my eyes again." She frowned and said, "Did you get a call earlier?"
He nodded. "Yeah, it was Jack with an update. C'mon, I'll make us a sandwich. You've gotta be starved."
"What was the update?" She stayed still, standing beside her bed, her back toward her bedroom window and its view of the world's most perfect Main Street. Everything in her was tense, waiting for word that her brother was dead. For sure, finally, dead.
"They picked up some chatter, I guess. Some of your brother's guys are going to try to bust Landry out of the hospital tonight."
"And...?"
"There's a chance Braxton is going to be with them."
It was like everything warm drained from her body, right through the floor. She was made of ice. She could hardly move. "How did they..."
"Some of the guys are bugged or something. But it's all fine. The FBI and every cop in the area are converging on Tucker Lake General. If it was even true that he's with them, he'll be in custody before the night's out."
She closed her eyes slowly. "Dad and Brax always knew who was being surveilled. They'd play games, say things to send law enforcement on wild goose chases...or get them out of the way if they had something illegal planned."
A cold finger dragged itself up her spine as if a monster were standing behind here. She forced herself to turn around and look out the window.
Torches danced on Main Street, one of them painting her brother's battered, filthy face as red as the devil's.
He looked up, right at her window, and she ducked away, even though he couldn't possibly see her with the lights off in the room.
"Come on out, Mary!" He bellowed the words, and his voice was hoarse. He wasn't well. "Come on out and take what you're owed, or I swear on our father's name, we'll burn this whole damn town!"
They raised their torches, every one of them.
Jason had come and wrapped his arms around her, and she didn't know when. She heard him talking and realized he was on the phone. She didn't know who he was talking to. "It was a distraction. Braxton Hayes is here with twelve others, waving tiki torches and threatening to burn the town."
"He'll do it," Sunny said, and she heard the way her voice trembled. "I have to go–"
"Don't be–"
"I can't let them burn Big Falls!" She used Jason's self-defense lesson against him, swept his legs out from under him, and shoved his chest in the opposite direction. He went down like a redwood, and she bounded over the bed and out of the room, through the apartment to the stairs. Jason was right behind her, but she slammed the stair door and turned the deadbolt on the outside.
He'd have to take the outside stairs in back.
She ran through the bakery, where vases of flowers stood on every table, all the windowsills, and the front counter. Jason. He must have done that while she'd been sleeping.
Her heart twisted a little, but she didn't slow down. She lunged out the front door, her bare feet slapping onto the sidewalk. "Here, I'm here!" she cried.
Her brother had his hunting knife in his hand. Most of his cohorts had rifles, but h
e just had that stupid knife. She hated that knife. He took a step toward her.
Jason came barreling around the corner of the building.
"Hold it right there." One of the thugs dropped his torch and raised a shotgun, but Jason didn't stop, he kept coming, barreling toward her. There was a gunshot and she screamed.
Jason's arms came around her and his momentum carried them to the sidewalk beside his truck, parked at the curb.
"Who's next?" A woman shouted. Wait, was that Vidalia's voice?
"Drop your weapons, boys. You're completely surrounded." And that sounded like Joey.
Jason was getting up, helping her to her feet. He didn't seem to have any bullet holes in him. As weapons clattered on pavement, Sunny and Jason looked over the pickup bed at the unlikely scene unfolding on Main Street. Locals lined the sidewalk on the opposite side, and blocked both ends of the street, every one of them armed. The man who'd been about to shoot Jason was lying still in the road. His torch lay beside him, still burning. The others had dropped their weapons, and raised their hands and her brother cried, "Nooooo! No, she has to pay!"
She stood up straighter, looked him right in his eyes. "It's over, Brax. It's all over. You could've just left me alone. Now you're gonna die in prison like our father did."
"You're right. So what've I got to lose?" He reached behind him, brought a handgun around his body, pointed it at her. It was all happening in slow motion. She heard the explosion just as Jason pushed her hard. A dozen other shots went off, and she hit the sidewalk and so did he. He was bleeding!
Sunny scrambled to Jason's side. He was sitting up, hand clutching his upper arm, blood oozing between his fingers. "Jason's shot!" she shrieked, her eyes moving rapidly from his bleeding arm to his face.
"I'm okay. It went right through, it's barely a gash."
"Your whole damn family is here! Where the hell is Sophie?" She squeezed his arm up higher than the wound, and twisted her head around to see if help was coming.
And then she went still. Braxton lay in the road behind Jason's truck, right underneath the street lamp. It was like a spotlight. His body was riddled with bullet holes. He wasn't moving.
"I've got him, Sunny," Sophie said.
Sunny looked at her. She'd come along the sidewalk from somewhere. She had her bag. She knelt beside Jason, tearing his shirt sleeve open.
Sunny straightened to her full height, and walked slowly toward where Braxton lay. There was a lot of blood.
Jason's brothers, and brothers-in-law were marching thugs toward the police station, past Vidalia, who supervised the little parade with a double barrel shotgun almost as tall as she was. All Brax's boys had their hands bound behind them with zip ties, and all of them were looking backwards at where their leader lay.
Everyone else lingered. They'd broken into groups of three or five, talking soft and watching.
"Wyatt's gone to get the ambulance."
"Won't matter for that guy. Jeeze."
"How many of us you figure shot him anyway?"
"I did. You?"
"Twice."
She was standing over her brother now. The gun was in front of her feet, so she kicked it away. The knife was lying where he'd dropped it.
Finally, she looked at his face. And that's when she knew for sure he was gone. His eyes were open, just like Dave's had been. And just as lifeless.
Her throat tightened up so much it was hard to breathe. He'd been her baby brother once. She'd held him, and fed him, and played with him and loved him. He'd hated her, murdered her love, scarred her for life, and tried to kill her.
Tears fell. She let them.
Chapter 16
A week had gone by. She'd reopened the bakery. Main Street had been cleaned up, and Jason's truck was at the body shop, although his brother Joe opined that the bullet-holes made it look tougher.
She was waiting for Jason in the princess pavillion, relaxing in a cool breeze while the river rolled past. She heard his loaner car pull in and turned to see him come strolling down the path, wine bottle in one hand, fresh flowers in the other.
"That's nice," she said. "The others are wilting and I really love having fresh flowers in the place. Especially daisies."
He came up the steps, and she took the flowers as he swept her into his arms for a kiss. She held the flowers behind his head, he held the wine behind her back, and they kissed long and slow. That was the way they kissed hello and goodbye every time now. Just one of many tiny changes. They were more to each other now. Things were deeper between them now. Better.
When he stopped kissing her, he poured the pre-chilled wine. "No one else got you daisies," he said, handing her hers.
"No one else did," she said.
"I know they're your favorite. You're kind of nuts about daisies, actually."
"You know me so well," she said.
"Yes, I do. I have right along. Now, I know you even better." He downed the wine in a gulp, then said, "And damned if I'm not a glutton for punishment, but uh..." He pulled a little white box from his pocket, and dropped to one knee. "At least look at the ring this time before you shoot me down?" And he opened the box.
The ring winked up at her, a yellow diamond center surrounded by white diamond petals. "It's a daisy!"
"That it is. And we'll have them at our wedding. All the daisies the church will hold. I love you Sunny. I love your light, and I love your shadows. I love your laugh and I love your temper. I even love your arrogant, hostile cat. And that's not gonna change. So, I'm asking you to be my wife. All of you. Mary Sunlight Hayes Cantrell McIntyre."
She didn't answer. She looked at him there, on one knee proposing to her, the best man she'd ever known. Behind him the Cimarron was singing low, as the sun set far upstream.
"Sunny?"
She looked back at him, savoring every detail of the moment. And she smiled, and said, "Sunny McIntyre will do."
"That'll do just fine." He got up and put the ring on her finger.
"Perfect fit," she said.
"That's exactly what we are. A perfect fit." And he kissed her once more.
* * *
THE END
* * *
If you enjoyed Oklahoma Sunshine, please consider leaving a review at the site where you purchased the book.
* * *
Continue reading for an excerpt from Fiona: Origins.
* * *
Fiona: Origins
When I came home after a night of partying with my friends that beautiful spring morn, the last thing I expected to see was my parents lying on the floor of our cottage. I ran to my father first, as he was the nearer. But he was cool to the touch, chalk white, eyes closed, still in his nightclothes.
Dead. My da was dead.
“No!” I fell to my knees beside him, pressed my fingers to his neck in search of his pulse, but instead I felt, and then saw, two small dark wounds. I gasped and drew my hand away, but my gaze stuck fast. The punctures were swollen and red; there was not a drop of blood to be found, not even on his skin.
We’d argued the night before. My last words to him had been unkind. “Oh, Da, I’m sorry. If you want to move away, we’ll move away. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Da. I’m sorry.”
“Fiona,” Ma whispered.
“Ma?” She was alive! I scuttled to her side. She lay face up on the floor, still wearing her nightgown and her soft fleece robe.
I pressed her cheeks with my palms, searched her neck, fear making my eyes widen and my heart race. I turned her head gently, to check both sides. There were no wounds there, only her tears dripping onto the backs of my hands.
“It’s my heart, darlin’. It broke to bits when I found yer da like that. Oh, my sweet Michael!”
“I’ve got you, Ma.” I was already fumbling for my phone in my handbag, somehow still hanging from one shoulder. I tapped out 999. They answered quick. I said, “My father’s... my folks were attacked during the night. My mother’s having chest pains. Please hurry.”
“It’ll do no good, child,” Ma said. “I’m not long for this world. I so hate to leave ye alone. But we’ve little time left, and there are things ye must know.”
Her burr was heavy, her voice weak as she lay dying on the rag rug she’d braided herself. Beyond our windows, Loch Ness sparkled in the morning sun as if nothing horrible was happening along its green shore. It kept winking in my eyes.
I stroked Ma’s face. It was pale and cool. “I never should’ve stayed the night away. I was just so angry, him wanting to up and move away from here. Away from the loch.”
There’d been a bonfire with my schoolmates, and plenty of drink to celebrate our final day at university. I hadn’t planned to take part, but with Da acting so crazed, I’d left in a huff. We’d drunk ourselves foolish and camped out overnight. And look what I’d come home to.
I never should’ve gone.
I rung off, dropped the phone, and gathered Ma’s head onto my lap so I could hold her. “Help’s on the way, Ma”
She shook her head in the cradle of my arm. “Listen to me, Fiona. We were livin’ in the States back then. There was a fire in the research center, beyond the village. Dark place. Secretive. There were a dozen theories as to what went on there, but no one knew for sure. It burnt to the ground.”
“Save your strength, Ma, please.”
She pressed her lips, shook her faded red curls, and raised her voice. “Listen to me, daughter!”
Ma never raised her voice. It startled me. “All right, I’m listening.” My own burr had once been as heavy as hers, but I’d been learning to soften it at college. To succeed in the world, Professor McKenzie said, one first needed to be understood by the world. And she’d harped on us to pronounce our Ts and use diction.
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