The tears started spurting from his swollen eyes; his jaw quivered as anger gave way to shame. He looked like nothing more than a trapped, wounded, cornered animal. And for the first time, Brett was really, truly afraid of how this was all going to play out. Dan was so far beyond reason, he wasn’t even hearing anything Brett said.
“Then you up and fucking decide to play again. Here, in this godforsaken shit town. So what choice do I have but to get the hell out here? Why do you think Maks came out here, anyway?” He was almost sobbing now. “And even then, I didn’t want to do it, any of it. I just wanted you to come home. We’d have made it work, man. It would have fixed everything.” He hunched over, slumped, letting the gun dangle down for a moment and in that split second, Brett knew that might be his only chance to do something.
With Dan breaking eye contact, Brett glanced quickly at Kirby to motion her to get down, but her gaze was riveted on a spot somewhere behind Dan.
Just as Brett swung his gaze back, to see what she was looking at, Dan’s head came up and he brought the gun up to his temple. “I could solve all our problems, you know,” he said, his voice no longer wild with pain, but calm, cold, empty. Too empty.
“No!” Brett shouted. “Dan, put it down. Now. I’ll do whatever you want me to do.”
“It’s too late now. Don’t you see? Too fucking late.” The gun wavered beside his temple, and Brett was just girding himself to dive over the counter if he had to, when suddenly Dan let out an almost inhuman shriek of pain and pitched violently forward, his body thrashing. The gun went off, the bullet ricocheting up into the ceiling, then all chaos erupted.
Kirby dove for the floor. Brett dove for Dan as he landed on the floor, hand outstretched, still holding the gun. Dan was howling. Kirby was scrambling toward the screen door.
“Run!” Brett yelled at her. “Get Thad.”
But instead she scooted behind Dan just as Brett cleared the counter in one leap, then had to almost twist into a pretzel to keep from landing on Dan’s back, which had been his intended target. He’d meant to pin him down and kick the gun away. But at the last second, he realized the reason Dan had suddenly had what looked like a violent seizure.
He had demon kitty lodged on his back, nails dug in deep, looking more terrified than she had when she was trapped two stories up in a tree.
That’s what Kirby had seen. The stool clattering over, then Dan jumping up and swinging the gun up must have set the cat off. Literally.
“What the hell is that? Get it off me!” Dan was screaming.
Brett kicked at the gun in Dan’s hand, sending it skittering as Kirby stepped in with a dish towel to trap the kitten.
She pried the cat loose and Brett hauled Dan up by his shoulders, prepared to level him with a knockout punch if that’s what it took to keep him from doing any more harm. To them or himself.
Dan took a swing at Brett, but at that point he was pretty easy to subdue.
When Thad arrived seconds later, Brett had Dan face to the wall, arm pinned behind his back. Dan was sobbing, completely broken. And Brett’s heart was breaking as well.
Thad stepped in, and though Brett instinctively moved forward to protect Dan, despite what had happened there that night, Thad quietly but firmly told him to step back and then clear the room once the reinforcements had come into the house as well.
“I’ve got it from here,” he told him.
“He’s…not well,” Brett said, not knowing what else to say. “Don’t—just—he’s done, okay? You don’t have to—”
“We’ve got it under control,” Thad reassured him, still stern, but clearly signaling with the stern set to his face that Brett needed to move back.
Brett did, and he felt what was left of his heart shatter as they cuffed Dan and took him outside to the squad car. Another officer retrieved the gun. Several others stayed behind to ask questions. Kirby was still cradling the bundled cat.
Brett took the towel and went out back on the porch and to the backyard. He crouched down and carefully opened the bundle. The kitten tumbled out, then arched her back and hissed once she was free. “Thanks for the assist, hellion,” he said as the kitten continued to yowl. “We’re even. Now git before you get impounded as evidence or something.” He watched the kitten take off back up the hill, hopefully toward home.
When he turned back around, Kirby was standing in the doorway, arms folded protectively against her middle. Her face was expressionless, but he could hardly blame her for being numb. He wished he was, too.
“I’m so sorry,” she said as he climbed the steps and came back on the porch.
He paused on the top step. “My best friend holds you at gunpoint and you’re telling me you’re sorry?”
“It’s…sad. He’s…he’s not a well man. It’s not your fault, Brett. I know you’re going to think you could have done something to prevent this but you couldn’t possibly know if he hadn’t told you.”
She opened the door and he came inside, but before they could say anything else to each other, Thad stuck his head through the kitchen door. “Your turn. We need your statements.”
Kirby slipped her hand in Brett’s as they stepped inside. It was that small but monumental thing that brought everything into crystal clarity for him.
He tightened his grip, squeezing her hand, wanting to say so many things to her. But first they had to get through the rest of this.
In retelling their story to the police, it settled things inside Brett’s mind, if not his heart. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen to Dan. The only piece of good news was that Maks was actually going to be okay. Apparently Mr. Big’s skills didn’t extend to the medical field. He’d missed the pulse because he’d been checking in the wrong place. So, while Dan still faced some very serious charges, thank God one of them wasn’t going to be manslaughter.
Morning light was starting to creep over the horizon, the sky as gray as his emotions, as they watched the last squad car pull out from the front driveway. Kirby shivered as they stood, arms around each other’s waist, on the front porch.
“What happens next?” she asked quietly.
“I don’t honestly know anymore, Kirby. I just don’t know.” He was past angry and sad. By now, he just felt…hollow. His whole world had been turned upside down…for good. Then flipped over again with this.
Then she turned in his arms, slid both of hers around his waist. She looked as tired as he felt, but her gaze was steady, her voice certain. “We’ll figure out what’s best to do. For him. For you.”
Brett touched her face, humbled by this woman. But never more certain about where he was supposed to be. “I thought you’d have me packed and out of here. I’m so sorry, Kirby. I didn’t know. I’d have never…” He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to hers, trying to shut out the memories of the night before. “When I thought you might be in trouble…I haven’t been that terrified since I was a kid.”
“I was okay. I was talking to him. I didn’t think he’d hurt me. He was just…mixed up, and hurt, and confused. He’s going to need help. More than legal help, I mean.”
Brett nodded, then squeezed his eyes more tightly shut as another thought hit him.
“What?” she asked gently, pulling him closer and touching his cheek as she lifted his head up.
“Dan’s dad. This…it’ll break him. I—I should call him.”
“I think they’re already doing that. I heard one of the deputies say they were trying to reach him.”
Brett swore under his breath. “How in the hell did it get that out of hand and I didn’t know? I don’t miss much, Kirby. And I completely missed this. He’s the closest friend I have, and I never saw it. I was so wrapped up in my own crap, I never—”
“Hey,” she said, framing his face. “You tried to help him and he was too stubborn, too full of pride, to accept the kind of help that would have put him back on the right path. He’s a grown man. He could have chosen the smarter, safer path, even if it meant swallowing
his pride. He’s the only one to blame here. Not you.”
She’d said it quite fiercely, and that, more than anything, cut through his grief and got his attention.
“Brett, we’ll figure out how best to help him, if we can, but he’s got to help himself now. You do know that?”
He nodded and then held her face in his hands. “We?” he asked.
She held his gaze. “We.”
He pulled her tightly into his arms and buried his face in her hair. “When I thought I might lose you, that you might be hurt…” He pushed her back enough to look in her eyes. “I don’t want to ever lose you.”
And though there was still the residual pain and ache from the toll the evening had taken, her mouth smoothed, then finally curved. It was a smile of confidence. And of hope. “That’s good, because the man I want is the man I saw today. Who didn’t back down when things were hard. The hardest, maybe. Who wanted to protect me…and a lifelong friend. We’re both misfits, of sorts, you and me, you know that. From backgrounds that weren’t easy. But I think that’s what makes us strong. And what makes us value what we have, what we’ve earned. I think that’s why we fit, you and me, almost from the moment you climbed off that bike.”
“You do fit me, Kirby.”
“Are you still planning on staying here? I mean, with Dan’s stuff and—”
“I’m not going anywhere. You’re right, we’ll figure out what we can do for him. For his dad. The company, whatever that might take. But this is where I belong now.” He pulled her up close and hiked her up into his arms so their faces were even. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he held her tightly against him. “And one thing I’m not going to do is just play house with you, Kirby. I want to marry you. And I don’t want to wait ten years. Or maybe even ten days. I love you, Kirby Farrell. And I want the whole world to know you’re mine.”
Now the smile did come, shining through tears. But they were tears of joy this time. She wrapped her legs around his hips as he swung her around on the porch.
“Is that a yes?”
“I already told you. I’m all in, Brett. I’ve never been a gambler, but I’d bet on you. Every time.”
“Well, maybe you’ve heard, but I’m one lucky son of a bitch. I don’t like to lose.”
“You’re not going to lose me.”
She slid one hand to his cheek and rubbed her thumb across his lips, making him shudder…and forget every damn thing except this moment. And her.
“I love you, too,” she said. “So, marry me, Brett Hennessey. Because I think I’m one lucky son of a bitch, too. Look!” she exclaimed, pointing behind him.
He turned them both around to see that it had begun to snow. Hard. If the thick, white flakes were any indication, it didn’t look like it was something that was going to let up anytime soon.
“The Hennessey Fortune Factor,” she murmured. “Ha!”
“You are all the good fortune I need,” he said, then kissed her, hard, before he carried her back inside the house. They’d both go down to the station later, find out what came next, what could be done. But for right now, he was going to celebrate life. New life. New dreams. His dreams.
Their dreams.
“Mind if we start the honeymoon part a little early?” he asked.
“I thought we already had,” she said, then squealed as he put her over his shoulder and took the stairs two at a time.
They were both laughing as they landed on his bed. Their bed.
And as he slowly peeled off her clothes and started to make love to the woman who was going to be his wife…somewhere out in the white swirl of the dawn snow, they heard cats howling in unison.
They both paused and looked at each other.
“I’m going to take that as a good sign,” Kirby said cautiously.
“I’m going to reinforce the screen on that door.”
Kirby laughed. “Later.”
Brett pulled her under him, felt her arch up, naturally moving with him as he slid deep into her. “Yeah,” he said. “Later is good. Now come here my soon-to-be wife and let’s see if I can make you howl.”
And he did.
Epilogue
“Sure thing, Mr. Deverill. Dev,” she corrected, unable to keep the goofy, girlish smile off her face as she cradled the phone between her chin and shoulder and typed in his request to book his room for an additional week. “Will you be needing me to send someone to pick you up after the game is over? Fine, okay. Will do.” She hung up the phone and glanced over at the small television set she’d brought in from the kitchen and hooked up at the front desk.
ESPN was covering the third annual Brett Hennessey Foundation poker tournament out at the resort. She smiled with ridiculous pride as she watched her husband sitting in the booth with the announcers, calling the play. She watched with particular interest as they talked about the young Irish player, Iain Summerfield. In the past three years, he’d become something of a new sensation and was threatening to topple some of Brett’s long-standing records. Brett was not only not bothered by this, he seemed kind of excited for the kid.
Vanetta came around the corner just then and Kirby dragged her gaze away from the action. “I need to see if we can get Tommy to head over to the resort to pick up Dev. He’s already out of the tournament, but he just called to extend his stay.” Her smile turned a bit cheeky. “I think there’s a certain French ski team racer who caught his eye.”
Vanetta fanned her face with her hand. “If I was only a few years younger, I’d show that scamp what a real woman could do.”
Kirby laughed, as she often did when she spent any time around the older woman. Vanetta had come east during Dan’s trial and had never gotten around to going back. Brett had ended up setting up another management company out west to run her boarding house. He’d tried to talk Dan into sticking around, too, but he and his father had ended up in Palm Springs, both wanting a fresh start without the past haunting them. Brett respected their need for privacy and kept his shadow from looming anywhere over them, but he still kept in contact, and Kirby thought that someday, if he had anything to say about it, they’d find their way back to a solid relationship.
Vanetta had turned out to be a godsend to them both, managing a good part of the day-to-day business of the inn while Kirby helped Brett with his flourishing home rehabbing business. Kirby had found a profound happiness there, working side by side with Brett, indulging her own creativity that fulfilled her in a way she’d never thought possible. They’d never formally hired Vanetta on; she’d just sort of worked her way into their lives. By now Kirby couldn’t imagine what she’d do without her.
“Why don’t you head on over to the resort,” Vanetta was saying, turning the TV around so she could watch. “Go see that handsome husband of yours, and bring Mr. Dev back yourself. I can hold the fort down. Besides, looks like another storm is coming. Supposed to be another record snow year.” She rubbed her elbows. “Might be time for a bit of buttered rum. Keep the joints working,” she grumbled. As she always did during the winter season. Brett had tried to talk her into staying out west during the cold months, to which she’d frostily replied, “What, and leave this place to fall down around your ankles?”
They both knew that Vanetta was happiest when she was working, or tending to something. And what she most wanted to tend to was the two of them. They were family. Even Aunt Frieda had started to make routine visits, which had gotten longer and longer each fall season.
What a family they’d become, Kirby thought as she scooted out from behind the desk, barely missing tripping over Elvira. Barn cat turned loyal companion. She’d never left that night after they’d taken Dan away. She’d caught Brett feeding her out back, and after a while, she’d just kind of ended up staying. So far she hadn’t attacked a single guest.
Kirby slapped her thigh and whistled for Elvis. The big, lumbering mutt trotted out from her office and then perked right up when he saw her slipping on her coat. Brett had found him on the side of t
he road by the first farmhouse they’d rehabbed. He’d been a permanent guest ever since.
She gave his head a good scratch and then gave Vanetta a quick hug. Always discombobulated the older woman, which was half the reason why she did it. “I think I saw Clemson hanging around the foyer,” she told her. “Maybe he’d like to join you for that buttered rum,” she added with a wink as she snagged the truck keys from the front board, where they hung next to Brett’s bike keys. And her own bike keys.
“Old coot,” Vanetta grumbled. “Can’t find something better to do than to get in my way.” But Kirby caught her patting at her hair as she walked into the foyer.
She grinned to herself as she opened the front door and headed out to her truck, Elvis trotting by her side. It started snowing again. Big fat flakes swirling through the air. She stuck her tongue out, letting a few land there and melt, and raced Elvis to the truck.
She climbed in and pulled the seat belt across her lap, then laid a protective hand on her slowly burgeoning belly. A medical miracle, her OB had called it. But, at forty-three, all was going blissfully, almost ridiculously well. By the end of summer, there’d be another permanent guest at the inn.
Yep, the Hennessey Fortune Factor was still going strong.
Here Comes Trouble Page 31