“Cap you can’t walk up to a man and smack him like that and not put yourself in the path of a fist.”
“Assess before acting. Did I not teach you anything in our years together? You were never the impulsive one, Sugar.”
His eyes move to the beer, and he raises a brow in question. Drinking before I’m going to possibly beat the shit out of someone is not exactly the brightest idea. It’s also why I’ve yet to take a sip from the bottle. As good as it sounded when I ordered it, knowing alcohol could alter my instincts, I haven’t touched it.
“It’s full and warm. I want a clear head for this. We’re still on the same page?”
“Yep,” Grant says, motioning for a table away from the bar. I rise and throw a couple of bills on the bar next to my abandoned bottle and follow. We settle in and the waitress approaches almost immediately. We order soft drinks and burgers and the moment she walks away we revert back to our military ways.
Strategy is Grant’s strong suit so he recaps how he thinks this should play out. “First, we’ll go to the bar and ask around to see if we can find where Lyle lives. If we’re lucky, someone will know where he’s laying his head at night, and we can go straight there. Worst case, we have to wait it out and hope he shows for the third night in a row. My concern with confronting him at the bar is a brawl. We don’t need that kind of heat.”
Connor interrupts and says, “I think if we aren’t able get a lead on where he’s staying, I should hang out alone. I know what he looks like from the picture and his social media. That skull on his neck is pretty identifiable so I’m not worried. He won’t know me, so there’s no issue. I’ll engage and see if I can get a feel for him.”
“This sounds like some spy shit from a movie,” I joke.
“Or, third option. We call the sheriff and let them handle this,” Grant suggests.
“Nope. This is personal. After I’m done with him you can do what you want.”
Nodding in agreement, we pause our conversation as the waitress appears with our burgers. Once she leaves our table, Grant clears his throat.
“Not that I don’t fully trust you and know that this is all for Red and the baby, but do you want to explain to me who the fuck this prick is and why he’s breaking into houses?”
Taking the mouth-watering burger in front of me as an opportunity to stall, I lift it to my mouth and take a bite. How do I explain Lyle? I’m not sure how much Henry shared with these guys about how he grew up. About the kind of people his parents are.
Grant watches me chew, patience his greatest virtue. “Lyle grew up with Wolf and me. He was kind of dick all through high school, running with a bad crowd half the time. He enlisted with us, thought it was his way of walking the straight and narrow. He didn’t last long. Fast money, partying, and pushing people around were more his style than structure and service.”
“Sounds like a gem.”
I raise a brow to Connor in agreement. “When I saw Henry’s parents at the funeral, I knew they were up to something. My best guess is they’re somehow tied into this; I’m just not sure exactly how.”
Without saying anything further, Grant digs into his food. The table is quiet for a few minutes, each of us deep in thought. I dip my last fry in the ketchup on my plate and pop it in my mouth just when Connor breaks the silence.
“So, Sugar—” He stops mid-sentence when I slowly turn my head to glare at him. Laughing he clears his throat, “Taylor. Geez, relax. Did you still have an opening for a bartender?”
“A few. You looking to relocate?”
Shrugging, he takes a drink from his glass before answering. “Maybe. There’s not much for me in Fayhill.” Grant scoffs and Connor laughs. “I love ya like a brother, man but I’m not staying there just for you. And I’m guessing since Taylor’s on a mission to avenge Scarlett’s honor, she’s staying in Lexington.”
I ignore his jab. “I assume you can mix a drink?”
“I do all right. Nothing a little practice won’t fix.”
“Job’s yours if you want it,” I offer.
As we finish our meals and settle the tab, the mood between us shifts. Connor excuses himself to the bathroom as we step out of the bar and into the lobby. Turning to Grant, I take a deep breath.
“Cap, I need to talk to you about something. Scarlett and Nicholas are going to be moving to Lexington. The last few weeks have changed things, and well, we’re together. I know it’s fast and you’re probably thinking I’m a piece of shit friend to Henry but—”
“Do you love her?”
“I do.”
“Then that’s what matters. We’ve talked about this before and I want her and the baby to be happy.”
Holding my hand out, I wait for him to take it. It’s only a pause but enough that I question whether he’s as accepting as he just stated. When he takes my hand, it’s a strong grip. A lesser man would fall to his knees, but I won’t be intimidated.
“You break her heart I will break your neck. Feel me?”
“Yes, sir. You’re kind of scary, Cap.”
Laughing, he pulls me into a hug, and when he releases me, I return his smile.
“Ready to whoop some dickhead ass?” Connor asks from behind me. Turning to face him, I look toward Grant, who nods in agreement.
Chapter 32
Taylor
The bar wasn’t as bad as it looked on social media. Well, that’s not completely true. It’s still a shithole but fine for what it is. A dive bar with a few pool tables, more than enough beers on tap, and a slew of regulars positioned on their favorite stools at the bar. The bartender is a woman about ten years older than I am. Her top is cut low and her hair is teased high. She spots the three of us and a Cheshire cat grin slowly crosses her face.
“Well, hello there, gentlemen. What can I get for ya?”
“We’re actually looking for a buddy of mine. I was supposed to meet him here last night, but didn’t make it. He’s about my height, shaved head, with a skull tattooed on his neck. Names Lyle.”
“Oh yeah, I know who you’re talking about. He’s been here the last few nights. That guy loves his whiskey. Not the good stuff like I’m sure you guys would like.”
I can read between the lines. Information isn’t free and if I want to know more about Lyle, I’ll need to drop some money. Nodding, I hold up three fingers. She turns and grabs a bottle of Pendleton from the shelf and lines up three glasses. While she’s pouring, I pull a fifty from my wallet and set it on the bar. Connor coughs but the bartender smiles. Sliding the glasses across the bar to each of us, she pulls the bill from the table and puts it right in her pocket, surpassing the register.
“Thanks . . .” I say, waiting for her to provide me her name.
“Lana.”
“It’s a pleasure, Lana. Thanks for the drink.”
“Your buddy was in here the last few nights. He’s kind of an asshole once he gets a few drinks in him. Going on and on about some job he has.”
Looking to Grant he gives me a brief head nod to keep Lana talking. “Do you happen to know where he’s staying? Thought I’d drop in on him to catch up before we hit the town.”
Squinting her eyes at me, clearly turning on her bullshit meter. I offer her the smile I use at my bar when one of the female customers is less than happy. It works just the same as it does at home because Lana motions toward the door.
“Up about two blocks there’s a motel. That’s where he was headed last night when I asked if he needed a rideshare.”
“Thanks, Lana. You have a good night.”
“You too, darlin’. Don’t go gettin’ yourselves arrested or anything. Y’all are a little too handsome to be wasted in a jail.”
Connor turns on the charm, leaning across the bar and offering her his hand. When she takes it, he pulls it to his lips and places a kiss to the back like she’s royalty. “Thanks again, Lana. Have yourself a good one.”
Yeah, he’s going to do just fine at Country Road. As we walk out of the bar and h
ead the direction Lana suggested, I’m scanning the street. The last thing I want to do is encounter Lyle or the Gilberts on the street. People are milling about. Some have already been drinking by the way they’re swaying. Others are loud and boisterous with their group of friends. Day has turned to night and we’re well past the happy-hour crowd and quickly moving into the party scene.
The three of us don’t speak until we’ve reached our destination. Stopping just shy of the door, I turn to my friends. “I will understand if you don’t want to go in there. I’m not going to guarantee I’ll keep my cool.”
Instead of responding, Grant opens the door and ushers us inside. Then I realize we don’t know what room he’s in. This place isn’t big, so I’m sure it won’t be hard to find him. Like he can read my mind, Grant beelines it for the front desk. Unfortunately for us, the guy behind the counter isn’t as easily swayed with compliments, but when Grant pulls a crisp hundred from his pocket the guys eyes light up, and he is happy to hand over the information.
It’s a little disconcerting how easily we’ve managed to track Lyle down. I’d feel bad for his lack of privacy if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s a piece of shit. As we walk down the hallway toward room 137, I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. Pulling it out, I pause at the picture. Scarlett is holding Nicholas in her lap with him dressed in his little footy pajamas that have fire trucks on them. The smile he wears after an epic nap is stretched across his face. The message says, “We miss you.”
“What is it? Is something wrong?” Grant asks when I’m no longer following them.
Crossroads. This is another one of those crossroads my grandfather talked about. I can follow this hallway to the man who has harassed and frightened the woman I love, or I can let law enforcement handle it. Men like Lyle are weak. He’ll crumble under the pressure and tell them everything and this will be over. Is that enough for me? Will handing this over to the sheriff be enough to bring peace to Scarlett?
“Cap, call the sheriff.”
“What? You don’t want to confront him?” Connor asks, clearly baffled.
“Oh, we’re confronting him, but I’m not going to do anything other than speak to him. I have too much to lose.”
“That’s the good man I was talking about.” Grant pulls his phone from his pocket and calls the sheriff. He’s quick to tell him what we’ve discovered. After a few minutes, he confirms he’ll contact local law enforcement. He also warned we should not do anything other than speak to Lyle.
Once he’s hung up, we head toward the room. Standing before the door marked 137, I listen to the raised voices inside. We couldn’t be lucky enough for the Gilberts to actually be here, could we?
With two raps on the door, I wait. The voices quiet, but the door isn’t answered so I knock two more times, this time with more force. The dead bolt clicks, and the door slowly opens. Tabatha Gilbert is standing before me. She looks more like the woman I remember growing up than the version she presented at the funeral months ago. Just over her shoulder I see her husband. Acid burns in my stomach at the sight of them both.
The smell of cigarettes and cheap whiskey seeps from her pores, and it disgusts me that after all these years she hasn’t changed. Not even after the death of her son could she be bothered to clean up her act.
“Taylor?” Her voice is a whisper.
“Let me in, Tabatha.”
She doesn’t hesitate and opens the door, stepping aside. Grant and Connor follow me into the room. Connor stays perched at the door, not allowing her to close it. Never lock yourself into a corner. Grant’s reminder rings through my head as I look around the room. Discarded takeout boxes are strewn across the room. The beds are unmade and sitting at the small round table with a bottle of cheap whiskey next to him and a baggie of what I can only assume by its white powdery substance is cocaine, is my childhood friend.
“You can’t just walk into my room, boy. Who do you think you are?”
I pull my attention from Lyle and direct it at Ed Gilbert. Not much taller than his wife, I have at least six inches on him and, by the way his dirty clothes hang off his body, a good fifty pounds.
“I think I’m the one about to ask the questions, Ed. Why don’t you take a seat? You too, Tabatha.”
Shuffling past me, Tabatha sits on one of the beds and tugs Ed to sit with her. Hands shaking, she pulls a cigarette from the pack and lifts it to her lips. I watch as she attempts to light the end, failing multiple times before giving up. I don’t know if it’s fear that has her shaking or something related to the drugs, but regardless, it’s clear that Tabatha Gilbert is not a well woman. I look at Grant who nods his head, stepping to the side but closer to the bed. If these two make a play for me, he’ll stop them. Although, I don’t think it will take much from the looks of them. My concern is with Lyle and the drugs.
Leaning back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, he clucks his tongue. “Well, well. If it isn’t the golden boy. What’s going on, Cain? Still a fucking altar boy?”
“Lyle. I see you haven’t changed much.”
“What’s there to change? I’m living the dream, man.”
Scoffing, I glance back to the Gilberts. Ed is staring at me, disgust all over his face.
“Oh yeah? What dream is that? A third strike waiting to happen?”
“Fuck you.”
“Look. I don’t have a lot of time, so I’m going to cut to the chase,” I say as I rotate my shoulders back.
I’m trying hard not to kill this bastard, but I need to not only stall but also get what I came for. Turning my head to Connor, I see he’s holding his cell phone in his hands with it pointed in my direction. Stepping to the side a little so he has a direct shot of Lyle and me before I get to the reason we’re here.
“What were you after in Scarlett’s house?”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He doesn’t move his eyes from me. His arrogance never faltering.
“Cut the shit, Lyle. I know it was you. What did you want?”
He doesn’t get an opportunity to answer because Ed speaks first.
“That is my son’s house. That little skank doesn’t deserve any of it.”
His words hit me hard, and I swing my body around to face him. I see nothing but red and my hands flex at the thought of hitting this man. As I take a step forward, I hear Grant speak.
“Sugar.” It’s one word but stops me in my tracks. A warning and reminder all at once.
“Do. Not. Speak. Of. Her. Like. That,” I grit out between clenched teeth.
“Oh, are you fucking her? She really is a skank like I said. Was my boy even in the ground before you took that from him too?”
I lunge for him, but Grant holds me back. “Let me go, Grant. I will kill the motherfucker.”
“Ed, please stop this. Taylor, we just needed some money, and we know she has it. I loved my son. He was a good boy, and he would have wanted us to have something.” Her voice is weak as tears fill her eyes. I relax at the sight. She’s a broken woman, consumed by a life she’ll never get out of.
“Why would you think you’re entitled? You were never there for Henry from the time we were kids, and you think he’d leave you anything?”
She opens her mouth to speak, but I raise my hand to stop her. She complies, and her eyes divert to her lap once again.
“Tell me why the break-in and the calls? Were those necessary? You say you loved Henry, but did you love his son? You frightened her and sent her into early labor. Something could have happened to her or the baby. Did you think of that or were you too fucking selfish to think of anyone but yourself and your next fix?”
Tears stream down her face, and she begins shaking saying, “I’m sorry” over and over. Too little, too late. I return my attention to Lyle.
“And you? What’s your fucking reason?”
Shrugging, he pours some of the white powder from the baggie then says, “It was a job. Besides you and Wolf always thought you were better than me. I tho
ught if there was a chance to prove you were both just as fucked up, I’d take it. Unfortunately for me, that chick was pregnant. I bet we could have had some fun. She’s probably a wildcat in the sack.”
That’s it, I can’t refrain myself and make it to him in two strides. I grab him by his neck and lift him from the chair, slamming him into the wall. His arm rises and he gets in one hit but instead of hurting, it only fuels the volcano inside me. My grip increases and his eyes widen.
“Do not ever speak of her again, or I will fucking end you, do you hear me?” My voice is calm, which should scare him. I could end him right now and not miss a wink of sleep. “Nod once for yes.” He nods and I release him, his body folding into itself as he lands in a heap on the floor, gasping for air.
“You’re all done,” I say as I look at all three of them. Tabatha is sobbing, her eyes never leaving the ground. Ed only stares at me, likely wishing he was bigger, faster, and twenty years younger so he could kick my ass. “Do you hear me? No more calls. No more attempts to steal from Scarlett. You will leave them alone.”
I take their silence as confirmation and turn to walk out the door. The soft sound of Tabatha’s voice stops me. “How’s the baby? My grandson. Is he okay?”
Looking over my shoulder, I reply, “None of your fucking business.”
As we walk silently out of the room and down the hall, we pass two uniformed police officers and know exactly where they’re headed. It may take a while to work through the facts that brought us here, but I know those three won’t bother us again. When we step out into the lobby, I turn to Connor.
“Got that?”
“Yep. I managed to stop before your little venture into assault land. Didn’t need you getting arrested while we were here.”
Laughing, I shake my head and follow him out of the building.
Chapter 33
Scarlett
A single text from Taylor letting me know he wasn’t arrested but it was going to be a long night with the police is the only response to the dozen text messages and calls I’ve made to him. My nerves were shot most of the night while I waited to hear from him. Addy, her son, Mason, and boyfriend, Landon, were amazing and tried to keep me distracted through dinner and an intense game of Uno. When it was clear I wasn’t the best company, they reluctantly left, and I spent a little one-on-one time with Nicholas.
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