Lucas (Texas Boudreau Brotherhood Book 5)

by Kathy Ivan

  He jerked back, and she let her hands slowly fall to her sides. Did any of what she’d said even penetrate his thick skull? If she could, she’d force him to go to Gamblers Anonymous, get him into counseling, anything to break his addiction. But every time she brought it up, he stormed away angry and bitter, blaming her for being a tightwad who didn’t know how to have fun. What did he expect? She’d had to play the grownup from the time she was in her teens, because as much as she loved her parents, they weren’t the most responsible people either. Her dad changed jobs like people changed socks, and her mother, bless her heart, was a throwback to more gentile times, when Southern women stayed home, and the man ran the household and took care of the family. Too bad her dad hadn’t been the responsible type.

  “It’s only money, Sis. It’s not like I wagered your firstborn child. I said I’ll pay you back.” He fisted his hands at his sides, and shot her a look filled with confusion and a touch of guilt. “It’s part of the reason I came over. Wanted to let you know I got a job working at Frank’s Garage. He’s taking me on part-time, and he’s gonna teach me about engine repair.”

  “Really? Dante, that’s wonderful!” Jill wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close, and wondered when he’d gotten so much bigger than her. She still thought of him when he’d barely reached her shoulders, with skinned knees and hair always in need of a trim. “I’m happy for you. It’s a good start.”

  He grinned down at her. “Yeah. I start Monday. If things go well, and I learn quick, maybe it’ll lead to something full time.”

  Giving him a final squeeze, she stepped back and studied him. He really had changed in the last several months. Taller, broader across the shoulders, he had the same blue eyes she did, and blond hair, though his was a shade or two darker. Maybe if she stuck to her guns this time, with a little bit of luck, he’d turn his life around for good.

  “Anyway, I’m outta here. Unlike some people who are sitting at home working on boring paperwork instead of going out and having a good time on a Saturday night, I’ve got a date.” The grin he shot had her rolling her eyes, and she set her hands in the middle of his back and gave him a little shove.

  “Get out. Have a good time.”

  Reaching for the doorknob, a knock sounded on the wood, and she jumped, her hand against her chest. Pulling the door open, she bit her lip to hide her shock at seeing Lucas on her doorstep.

  “Hi, Jill.”

  “Lucas, what are you doing here?”

  His slow smile sent little tingles along her spine and straight to her toes. That little dimple in his cheek, the way the left side of his mouth quirked a little higher than the right did something to her. Got her all hot and bothered.

  “I thought maybe we could get that drink we never got around to last night.” The low husky timber of his voice, his slow Texas drawl, made her knees go weak, and she clung to the door before she collapsed into a puddle at his feet.

  “Hey, Lucas! Good to see you. I hadn’t heard you were back.” Dante reached out and shook Lucas’ hand, before cutting his gaze toward her. She could practically read his thoughts, from the quirked brow to the question in his eyes. Questions she had no intention of answering, because it wasn’t any of his business.

  “Got in last night. I’m taking a short break before starting my next story. Ran into your sister last night, right before the storm hit.”

  “And you came to take her out? Cool. She needs to get outta this apartment.” Dante grabbed her purse off the hall table and thrust it into her hands. “She’s been working way too hard, and needs a break. Go on, Sis, have a good time.”

  “Dante, I have to finish—”

  “There’s nothing that can’t wait until later. You work too hard as it is. Go, have fun. Relax.” Dante made a shooing motion with his hands. Knowing there was no way to gracefully decline Lucas’ invitation, she stepped past him into the hall. She couldn’t help noticing the subtle scent of his aftershave, and those jittery butterflies in her stomach started doing the samba.

  Oh, boy, this is wrong on so many levels. I’m gonna need to be on my toes, because he smells really good, and he’s got a killer smile. One drink. I can handle one drink. Make a little small talk. Who am I kidding? I am in so much trouble.

  “Jill?” Lucas waved a hand in front of her face. “Everything okay?”

  “What? Oh, yeah. Sorry. I was making a mental check list in my head of things I still need to get done.” Of course, she wasn’t about to tell him what was on the list. Like his gorgeous eyes or his dimple, or the way his shirt clung to his muscles, or…

  “See what I mean? She really needs to take a break. All work and no play, Jilly, is gonna make you an old maid.”

  “I’ll old maid you, you little punk!” She took a playful punch at Dante’s arm, wincing after her fist made contact. “Ow!”

  “Ha! That’ll teach you to pick on somebody your own size. Lucas, my man, good to see you, but I’ve got a date. I’ll call you, Sis!”

  Jill watched her brother saunter down the hall toward the stairs and disappear out of sight. She could feel Lucas’ gaze watching her, and she glanced down at what she was wearing. Thankfully she hadn’t changed out of the clothes she’d worn earlier when she met Ms. Patti. The dark blue jeans and navy and white blouse were casual, but still nice enough for going out.

  “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, Jill. Dante kind of forced your hand and didn’t give you a choice. But I will—give you a choice. I’d like it if you’d join me for a drink. I thought we’d head to Juanita’s. Maybe sit out on the patio, listen to the band.”

  “Juanita’s sounds awesome. I could use a margarita.”

  There it was again, his slow sexy smile.

  Oh, yeah, she was a goner.

  Lucas held out Jill’s seat, watched her slide gracefully into place, before walking around and sitting across from her. The night was warm, but not unbearably so, and they’d opted to sit on the patio at Juanita’s. He’d chosen it because it was the best place in Shiloh Springs to get Tex-Mex, and they usually had some good music, played by live local bands. They alternated between country and soft rock, and the patrons loved it.

  After giving the waiter their drink orders, he leaned back in his chair and studied her. It had been impossible not to pick up on the tension between Jill and Dante when he’d arrived, although they’d both done their best to cover. He read people; it was part of his job. Most people tended to lie given half a chance. But little nuances, subtle signs, were easy to find if you knew what to look for. He did.

  “Momma said you were at the house today. I’m sorry I missed you.”

  “I met your mother for lunch. There was some business she wanted to discuss.” Jill shook her head, a bemused expression crossing her face. “Your mother is certainly full of surprises.”

  “That’s a fact. I learned a long time ago to simply roll with the punches, because when Momma wants something, there’s no stopping her. Is it a secret, or can you talk about it?”

  Jill picked up the napkin and carefully spread it across her lap before answering. “She wants to go into business with me, a partnership. To open a bakery.”

  “Really? That’s great! You’ve always wanted your own shop. I remember when we were in school, it’s all you talked about.” He grinned and patted his stomach. “I loved being your test monkey when you experimented with all those recipes. You did all the work and I got all the rewards.”

  Jill laughed and Lucas relaxed a bit more. He loved hearing her laughter. Loved seeing her face glow with warmth and happiness. The strain from the prior night was gone.

  “You gotta admit, some of those were disasters. Remember the black walnut brownies?”

  “Hey, it wasn’t my fault it turned out you were allergic to their pollen.”

  Jill chuckled. “It never dawned on me, either. I can eat walnuts without a single problem, but I will never again crack open a walnut in the shell. I couldn’t see for two days because
my eyes swelled shut.”

  “Well, it tasted good. I really miss those almond shortbread cookies you made with the candied cherries. I’ve never had anybody else make those since.”

  “Those were a total fluke. I’d baked some homemade fruitcake for the holidays and had some of the candied cherries left over. I decided to toss them in the cookies at the last second.”

  “They are still my favorite cookie, even after all these years.”

  “Thanks. They’re not hard to make.”

  He almost choked on his beer at her words. “Easy for you to say. You actually have a gift in the kitchen. Some of us can’t boil water.”

  Jill chuckled again at the memory his words evoked. “I remember your momma wanted to take a strip out of your hide when you forgot you’d turned on the stove and put the pot on the stove without putting water in it. She loved those kitchen curtains before they were flambéed.”

  “In my defense, I was thirteen years old and easily distracted.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Seriously, though, I’m not sure what to think about Ms. Patti’s offer. It’s the opportunity of a lifetime, but I don’t feel right accepting.”

  “Why not? Momma’s a shrewd businesswoman, and wouldn’t offer if she didn’t believe you’d make a profit.”

  Jill shifted in her chair and took a sip of her margarita, eyes half-closed, a look of bliss crossing her face. A slight pink tinge colored her cheeks, and in the ambient golden light from the patio, she practically glowed. He drew in a deep breath and fought down the urge to walk around the table and pull her into his arms. Which was crazy. She was his friend. His confidant. His high-school crush. Why was he suddenly having all these feelings roaring to the surface about wanting to hold her? To kiss her?

  “I was going over the numbers when Dante showed up. Profits and loss, cost analysis, projected equipment and supply expenses. Lucas, your mother’s already picked out the location! Granted, it’s perfect, but I feel like I’m in over my head and going down for the third time.”

  “Never gonna happen. I bet you’ll be in the black within a year of opening. Guaranteed.”

  “Ugh, don’t say bet.” She shook her head and reached for the bowl of chips in the middle of the table, took one and swiped it in the queso. “I don’t believe in gambling.”

  “It still sounds like an excellent opportunity, one you’re more than capable of taking on and succeeding. What’s really holding you back?”

  Toying with the napkin on her lap, she kept her eyes lowered. It made it a little harder for him to read her, but he could tell something bothered her, made her hesitate to take the leap toward her dream job. It was more than fear of failure. He knew Jill well enough to know she’d throw herself head first into any business, especially something she’d wanted most of her life. Yet she hesitated.

  “I’ve dreamed about this,” she whispered softly. “Every time I think it’s within my grasp, something bad happens, and it all falls apart. I’m beginning to think I’m cursed.”

  Reaching across the table, he grasped her hand, squeezing it. Her gaze flickered toward him for a second, before she lowered her eyes. “Jill, you’re not cursed. Scared maybe. Starting a business is a big step, something not everybody has the guts to undertake. But I know you. The you who’s strong. The you who’s a fighter. You can do this, if you really believe.

  “I think that’s what scares me. If it was just me, investing my own money, I’d jump at the opportunity in a heartbeat. But it’s not, it’s also your momma, and by extension the rest of your family.”

  “Nonsense. We believe in you.” He stroked his thumb gently across her knuckles, felt the softness of her skin beneath his touch. “I believe in you.”

  “I…I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say yes. Tell Momma you’ll do it. Then work your magic and you’ll have customers flocking to your bakery in droves. I’ll be first in line the day you open. I promise.”

  She drew in a deep sigh, her eyes closed. When she finally opened them, he read her answer shining through.

  “I’ll do it.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Spotting his editor’s name on the caller ID, Lucas answered on the second ring. A surge of excitement zipped through him. He’d submitted a concise summary of his notes for an in-depth article to him earlier this morning, wanting Chuck’s input on the strength of his new idea.

  “Hey, Chuck.”

  “Boudreau. Good job on the human trafficking article. Evocative, yet thought-provoking. Made me sick to my stomach a couple times, but that’s what good writing ought to do. You hit your mark, got your facts straight. We need copies of all your documentation. Once this article hits, readers will be outraged, and the feds are gonna come down on us like a ton of bricks. I need facts to back up your findings, nice solid proof to hand over.”

  His boss chuckled, and Lucas pictured him sitting in his cubbyhole of an office, the credenza behind his desk stacked halfway to the ceiling with folders and papers, a disaster waiting to happen. The man was a tried-and-true Texan, with a deep drawl and a tendency to talk in countrified cliches, but woe unto the reporter who dared add a single one to his writing.

  Chuck’s mind was a bear trap, waiting for the unsuspecting writer to take a wrong step and then SNAP. He pictured him leaning back in his chair, arms folded behind his head, his ever-present half-glasses perched on the end of his nose. Nothing got past Chuck. If you didn’t cross every T and dot every I, he’d tear your head off, his scathing comments flaying the literary skin from your hide.

  “Everything’s in my safe at the apartment. I’m out of town, but I’ll get it to you ASAP. Did you get the notes I e-mailed you this morning?”

  “Yeah. I’m not sure there’d be enough interest in the story. It doesn’t have the same—zing—I’m used to seeing from you. Illegal gambling? Who cares? Anybody who wants to toss their money down a rat hole can find a legit casino within driving distance nowadays. Or play the lottery. Those are all legal.”

  “Chuck, I’m not talking penny-ante stuff. Money being raked in by these illegal gaming rooms is used for sex trafficking, human trafficking and drug running, which ties back into my last story. The penalties imposed when they’re caught is laughable. It’s considered a misdemeanor at best, and the people running the clubs get a fine or maybe a slap on the wrist. I did a little digging, and some of these places take in upwards of a hundred thousand dollars a day. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg.”

  Chuck let loose a whistle. “I hear ya. But it’s still not big news. People honestly won’t care because it doesn’t impact them. Not directly.”

  “That’s part of the problem. It does impact them, they don’t realize how much. Sometimes hundreds of thousands of dollars gets channeled away from the poorest communities, and tossed back into the hands of the cartels. People sell their food stamps for a chance at playing slot machines or electronic poker, hoping for a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow to solve all their financial woes. Others cash paychecks or social security checks and immediately head for these illegal gaming rooms and spend countless hours there—until all their money is gone. Then they’re stuck trying to figure out how to make it through until the next check.”

  Lucas could cite facts and figures until he was blue, but if Chuck didn’t want the story, he’d shelve it—for now. Yet his gut told him to fight. There was something here, beneath the surface, and he itched to dig deeper. He knew where a half dozen or more of these game rooms were in the Dallas-Fort Worth area. Could be there were more located in the suburbs. Maybe even Shiloh Springs. The thought sickened him. Gambling for many ended up more than a harmless habit; it was a sickness, an addiction with no sure-fire cure.

  “Boudreau, I can tell you’ve got a burr under your saddle, and ain’t giving up until you find it and pluck it out. I’ll give you two weeks. Two. Weeks. Not a minute more. Get your facts straight, prove this is something bigger than recreational fun and maybe—and it’s a big maybe—I’ll pas
s it along to the big guys.”

  Lucas let out a silent sigh, and felt his grin growing. If he hooked Chuck, and it sounded like he had, he’d get the green light. Now to figure out who to talk to around Shiloh Springs, find the closest club, and a way to get in the front door.

  Jill ended up face-to-face with Ms. Patti the next morning. After church services, she’d found herself corralled and shuffled into a car with Rafe, Tessa, Antonio, and Serena, headed for the Big House and Sunday supper. She had every intention of calling Ms. Patti first thing Monday morning, and telling her she’d decided to accept her offer. Instead, she found herself seated on the back patio at the Boudreau home, holding a plate overflowing with fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, and biscuits hot from the oven slathered with rich honey butter.

  Lucas sat beside her on the love seat, with Rafe and Tessa directly across on an identical matching couch. Her world seemed like a whirlwind, spinning out of control, and she was the kid twirling around in circles, balance all out of whack.

  “Did I tell you the florist says she can do the colored baby’s breath?” Tessa grinned at Jill, her gaze filled with mischief. “Picture it: Dark pink roses and the barest blush of pink in the baby’s breath, tied with silver ribbons. It’s going to be simply gorgeous.”

  “And with that, I’m outta here.” Rafe placed a kiss on his fiancée’s cheek, and stood, holding his half-empty plate. “I love you, but I’m in desperate need of some testosterone. All this wedding talk—sorry, I’m taking the afternoon off. Lucas, want to go join Dad and talk football and monster trucks?”