by Snow, Nicole
“C’mon! Let’s show ’em we can kick their butts all day long.”
* * *
Present Day
There’s an ice-cold face staring at me, too pale to ever speak or smile or move again.
Someone innocent. Someone I loved. Someone who looks like my best friend first, and then too much like Dad.
“Goddammit!” I bolt up and smack the headboard, glazed in a cold sweat.
Shit.
A dream. A nightmare. A memory. The bad fuckin’ turn-your-guts-out kind.
It’s the ass crack of dawn, around the time I usually wake up just like this. It’s been the norm for the past four or five years, never averaging more than my usual six hours.
Today, it’s more intense, and that’s saying something.
I stand up, hating how I always wake up hard as fuck, even when my mind’s been torturing me for hours with sad, lonesome thoughts. All the shit I wish I had a memory button for that I could press and just forget.
But life doesn’t work that way. I figured that out a long time ago.
Maybe I’m just sad as hell it’s a lesson I can’t keep from that spitfire right down the hall. A sick, angry weight churns in my gut, and I don’t know why.
Call it a premonition.
Before this is over and done, that poor girl grieving Jonah seems all too likely to pick up a few gifts from hell she’ll want to forget.
5
The Deal (Bella)
I’m lost in a deep, dark hole, trying to crawl my way out when I finally force my eyes open.
Recognizing the room, the sunlight, I close my eyes and sigh.
A dream. Just a bad, claustrophobic dream.
A knock at the door has my eyes opening wider. That’s what I’d been trying to reach in my dream. Someone was pounding on a door, calling, their voice muffled, desperately guiding me so I’d know which way to go.
Throwing back the covers, I climb out of bed and walk to the door, opening it a crack.
“Sorry to wake you. Kept thinking you’d be up soon.”
Drake. Huge, serious, his bright blue eyes beaming down and studying me. I’m not sure I needed a wake-up call this intense.
I have to blink a couple times to make my eyes focus. He’s dressed in a black t-shirt and jeans today, and has a solemn, slightly tormented look on his face.
Jeez, don’t tell me there’s more bad news?
“It’s almost eleven.” He cocks his head, probably wondering if I’m taking any of this in.
“Eleven o’clock?” I’m shocked. I haven’t slept so late in years.
“I figured you were exhausted, so I didn’t want to disturb you, but Roger Jones called earlier.”
Jones? The name registers.
Roger Jones has been the acting CEO of North Earhart Oil for years. Gramps thought the world of him. “Roger? Why? What’s up?”
“Your parents. They’ve been at corporate headquarters since early this morning, running their mouths.”
Crap!
And so it begins. I throw my head over my shoulder, ready to bolt and throw on my clothes so we can get moving.
“Wait.” His firm, but gentle hand clasps my arm, holding me. “Roger has it under control. It’s not an emergency, not yet, but I thought you’d want to know.”
I can’t help but wrinkle my nose. This is going to be so freaking ugly. “Give me five minutes. I’ll get dressed and be right down.”
Drake nods as I shut the door and walk over to my suitcase.
The jeans and plaid shirt I’d worn yesterday are lying on top. For a second, I hesitate.
I suppose the owner of a billion-dollar company should dress the part, but Gramps never did. He wore overalls and leather jackets to the company headquarters more than once.
It’d piss my parents off something fierce, but if I had a pair of overalls, that’s what I’d wear right now too.
I settle for the clothes I had on last night and head for the bathroom.
With my hair in a pony tail, I know I hardly look like a millionaire business owner, but I am.
I tell myself I’m the one who has to believe it as I fly down the stairs a short time later.
If Drake ever questions my attire, it doesn’t show on his face. His eyes are pinprick flickers, firm, mission-focused. I barely know him, but I shudder when I think what might happen if anyone ever crossed this man.
He jerks the front door open the second I step off the stairs.
“I’ll drive today,” he growls, a look on his face like it’s the only option.
I should probably say that’s not necessary, but at the moment, I’ll take any support I can get.
Facing my parents won’t be easy, and I don’t want to do it completely alone.
So I nod, mouth a 'thanks,' and walk out the door. Then I see the big black truck parked near my Jeep and feel a grin pulling at my face.
It’s a massive, sleek GMC. No wonder Gramps liked him.
It’s much newer than Grandpa’s old red one, with black leather seats and tinted windows. The stereo and navigation are ten years ahead of his, too, tricked out with speakers that could probably echo through bone.
Unassuming, but loud, I wonder, buckling myself into the passenger seat. I guess vehicles do sometimes match their owners.
“So how’d you and Gramps meet?” I ask as he snakes the truck down the long driveway.
“Accident.”
I turn, quirking an eyebrow, waiting for him to say more.
He glances my way. “Literally.”
“What do you mean 'accident?'” The almost hidden grin on his face makes me wonder. “Like...car accident?” I cringe.
Drake says nothing, just keeps his huge, inked hands on the wheel. Dark stylized flames graze his skin, bleeding into lattices of something like feathers.
A phoenix, maybe? I wonder what I’m seeing but can’t quite make it out.
“Don’t tell me...it was his fault?” I finally ask. I’d always worried about Gramps driving back and forth to town, especially in the winter.
“Nah. It wasn’t a crash. I blew a tire on my truck by the highway and managed to limp into the driveway. It was in the middle of a blizzard several years back. I was fucked up. Not drunk, but...real heavy shit on my mind. Heavy, darlin’.”
My lips purse slightly at the way he says it. I’m almost afraid to ask what that means, and something tells me he wouldn’t just blurt out easy answers.
“Were you hurt?” I decide to play it safe.
“No. That’s all thanks to Jonah. I couldn’t see a damn thing, figured the mailbox meant there might be a driveway somewhere. I was right. Your grandpa came tearing through the storm a few minutes later with his plow. He pulled me and my machine out of the arctic, and I’ve been here ever since.”
“For four, five years?” I know it’s been about that long because I remember the day Gramps told me an old Army buddy moved in.
I was still in college and had to cut our conversation short because class was starting. When I’d called him back that evening, I’d ended up answering more of his questions about school than he had mine about his Army pal.
“Four years this past winter. February. Don’t regret a single day.”
Interesting. Maybe this is why Gramps never said much about his 'helper.'
What kind of heavy did Drake have?
I certainly would’ve warned him about picking up strangers and bringing them home – especially troubled strangers.
But Gramps would’ve told me not to waste the energy.
Considering Drake had been around for four years, he’d have been right. If this guy wanted to do anything shifty, he’s had plenty of opportunity.
In other words, Gramps is right as usual.
A loud whinny draws my attention to the window.
Edison. Outside, galloping majestically along the fence line, a rope dangling off his neck.
Drake hits the brakes before I have time to call out. “Damn it, how? I not on
ly double-latched his stall, I tied him.”
He stabs a thumb into his seatbelt buckle and reaches for his door, but I move quicker.
“Wait here. Let me handle this,” I say.
He opens his door. “No, clock’s ticking. We have to take him back to the barn or he’ll follow us all the way to town.”
“He won’t if I have anything to say about it. Just give me a minute.” I climb out and walk through the ditch to where Edison stands on the other side of the fence. Drake doesn’t follow, but still gets out, leaning against his truck.
I click my tongue. “Come on, bud! This is no place for horses right now.”
Edison tosses his head. He’s moody and spoiling for a fight today, I guess.
I bite my lip. Don’t fail me now, Edison. Please. I need something to go right.
He takes a step closer, then another, keeping a wary eye on Drake.
“Let’s go, bud,” I say again, softly.
Once he’s in reach, I grab the end of the rope and give it a gentle shake.
“You promised me,” I say, pulling the rope over his head. “Remember? We’ll help each other.”
He turns his eyes on me. I can almost hear him say, “You promised, too. No leaving.”
“I’m just going to town,” I say. “Sorry. I should’ve told you before I left. I won’t do that again, but you can’t do this again, either.”
Ugh. I wonder if I’ve lost my marbles when I’m carrying on a make-believe conversation with a horse, but...
He sniffs my shirt.
“No, no candy, but I’ll bring you some later if we’ve got ourselves an understanding.” I lean closer as I say, “At the barn. You hear me, Edison?”
His ears twitch.
Crazy or not, I think he gets it.
I bite back a smile as I take a step backward. He watches me slowly take another.
Then he tosses his head again. I grin. I knew he wouldn’t let me down.
Turning, I coil the rope as I cross the ditch and walk to the truck.
“It would’ve been easier to lead him back with the rope,” Drake says.
“We don’t need to lead him back. Get in.” I turn around, wave at Edison, and shout, “Meet you at the barn!” He turns around and with a thick snort, starts galloping back toward the barn.
Drake hasn’t moved an inch, staring in bewilderment, his eyes shifting from the horse to me.
“Mighty impressive, but you sure?” He shakes his head as he looks at me, then at Edison. “He won’t stay there. Can’t trust him.”
“He’ll stay, and we’ll trust him this time.” We aren’t that far down the driveway. I can still see the house, and barn, and a shrinking Edison, still galloping to the place I told him. “He’ll be at the barn when we get back.”
I climb in the truck and shut the door.
Drake climbs in behind the steering wheel. His eyes instantly go to the rear-view mirror and after a good, long look, he shrugs. “Your horse, your call, darlin’. You seem pretty damn confident.”
“I am. We have a thing.”
“Fine and dandy, just as long as your 'thing' doesn’t mean me having to chase him all the way to the lake again.”
I smile, shaking my head, more confident than I really should be. It’s more like faith. Hope. But that’s been in short supply lately, and I know it won’t change unless I start to make some.
“You’ll be fine, Drake.”
He shifts the truck into drive, an amused quirk pulling at his lips. “Your funeral, lady.”
I laugh. “Oh, wanna bet? Dead serious. Let’s bet if he’ll be there or not.”
“Bet what?” His eyes are still on the rear-view mirror, even as we roll forward. “In case you’re wondering, I can’t ante up a fraction of what you’re sitting on now.”
I roll my eyes. We really are strangers. If he knew me at all, he’d know I can’t even handle sticking money into those dumb claw machines for cuddly stuffed animals.
“Not money. I’m talking about supper.” I can’t think of anything else. “If Edison’s not there, I’ll cook. If he is, you’ll impress me.” Thinking of the tray in the hallway last night, I say, “But it has to be more than a sandwich and fruit. Unless, I mean, that’s all you can handle...”
His eyes shift over, shooting me a sharp look. “Please. If you have my famous steak and hash browns, you’ll fill up on your own damn words. Last night, I didn’t know if you were hungry or not. I’m as good a chef as I am a lay, woman.”
Oh. My. God.
Does he hear what’s on his own tongue? It’s whip-sharp and suddenly too good at lashing my cheeks red.
He says it without a smidge of doubt. And the satisfied glint in his eyes when they glance at me tells me it might be true. My gaze drops to his hands, resting on the wheel, imagining the wicked things they could do with a frying pan or spreading any woman wide–
“No offense intended,” I say a little too quickly, desperate to banish crazy thoughts. “The sandwich was good, really. But it’s not exactly worthy of the stakes.”
“You’re welcome.”
I shift in the seat so I can look out the back window. Edison has stopped near the barn now, munching on grass. The rope is still in my hand, so I reach between the seats to drop it in the back. It plops down next to a big manila envelope. “Are those the papers I signed last night?”
He shoots a quick glance my way, then looks out the windshield again, at the road. “You trying to change the subject?”
I twist and sit down in my seat again. “No. I just noticed it. Think my hand still hurts today from all that signing.”
“So we’ve got ourselves a bet? Loser has to cook tonight?” he asks.
I stare at him a moment, wondering if he’s serious. “Yeah. We’re on.”
“Hope you know how to cook Mexican. I feel like enchiladas.”
Fully confident I won’t have to cook, I still answer, “Of course. Beef or chicken?”
“How ’bout both?”
I smile. “I hope you know how to make them too. If not, guess I’ll settle for tacos.”
“You won’t be settling for nothing. I will.”
My smile widens, and I shake my head as he shoots another glance my way. “We can stop at the grocery store while in town so you can get everything you’ll need.”
“No need. Got a bunch of meat in the freezer. Went a little crazy last week, knowing I’d be holed up in the house a while. The cupboards, fridge, and freezer are bursting at the seams. Everything you’ll need, Chef Reed.”
I burst out laughing at how ridiculous 'Chef Reed' sounds.
He’s a fun one to joust with, I’ll give him that.
I twist to glance out the back window again, but we’re too far away to see Edison. He’ll be there, though. I know it.
I catch sight of the envelope again. He must plan on dropping the papers off at Sheridan’s office while we’re still in town. Fine, one less thing to do later.
After this meeting at North Earhart Oil, I’m sure I’ll be just about wiped out. Hopefully my luck holds up and I don’t have to make him a king’s fiesta feast.
A sudden heaviness tugs at my chest.
Slowly, I sigh, dreading what’s a few more miles down the road. “So, I suppose I should warn you about my parents.”
“No need.”
I blink, but it only takes me a second to catch the drift. “Oh. Gramps already did, I take it?”
“Yeah. Him and life. I know their type and I’m ready.”
I watch the fence posts as we roll past, my brain spinning.
For as much as my parents said about Gramps, he rarely spoke about them.
I have to ask.
“What’d he tell you?” There has to be more. Much more, and I need to know where to start.
“Everything.”
Nice and vague. If he notices me side-eyeing him, he doesn’t show it.
“Yeah? What’s everything?”
“You really want the d
irt?” He waits until the truck hits the highway. “From the beginning?”
No doubt. I need to know what dirt he means, and he needs to be truly ready for an ugly scene.
I nod. “Let’s hear it.”
“Well, Jonah told me your ma never knew her father. No one knew who he was, not even her mother, who worked at a bar in town. He said your mother knew your old man was her only hope of leaving this place and reaching for her big dreams, so a week before they graduated high school, she told him she was pregnant.”
Holy hell. What?!
I try to stifle a gasp, sucking at my lip. If it came from Gramps, it must be true.
“Darlin’, I warned you,” he tells me, sensing my hesitation. “You want me to stop, now’s the time to say so.”
“No. Go on. Everything.”
“Your old man was already enrolled at North Dakota State when it happened. Jonah took some convincing, but finally came around and agreed to the marriage on one condition. He wanted ’em both finishing college. So he helped them along. Bought them a house in Fargo, paid their tuition, and kept your dad on the North Earhart payroll. Whatever they needed for easy income and real insurance.”
God.
Goosebumps pepper my arms. I shake my hand, loosening my grip on the leather seat so I don’t leave permanent scratches.
It’s insane and a little scary that this stranger knows more about my family than I do.
Clearing my throat, I work up the courage to ask, “But...they were out of school for years before I came around. Or so they always said. I don’t get it.”
“Let’s just say Jonah wasn’t surprised when no kid showed up. Your ma claimed she had a miscarriage, but he doubted she was ever pregnant, which is why he forced her to sign a prenup.”
My stomach flips. Prenup? Gramps forcing her?
It’s almost too much. I can’t imagine my kind, perfectly reasonable grandfather laying down the law so crazily.
Unless...unless he hated her and mistrusted her from day one.
Unless there was always bad blood, and it wasn’t just a relationship that slowly went to hell over the years like I thought.