by Snow, Nicole
“Anything.”
I’m serious. She wouldn’t ask if she weren’t near her breaking point.
“Well, I’m afraid what I’ll find when I search his room again. I wasn’t born yesterday, but you know me, I can only handle so much. If I find more,” she pauses, looks around the bar, and then cups her hand against my ear. “If there’s drugs, stolen stuff, a gun...I’d like your help getting rid of it. Confiscated, turned in, destroyed, whatever.”
“Say no more,” I tell her. “You call me the minute you plan to go through his stuff. I’ll be right there and ready for anything. You tell me to pick it up, and I’ll do the rest. Anything I can do to help, Winnie.”
She smiles. “Th-thanks. You’ll do me proud. I know you will.”
“Bullshit, Winnie. You’ll do me prouder.” That’s our catchphrase, something we’ve said to each other since high school band.
The only times she ever let her nerves show was before concerts. I’d playfully push at her back with the slide from my trombone, urging her out to the concert floor, after I told her the same thing I just said again tonight.
Do me proud.
Do me prouder.
Then something happens that rips my fucking heart out.
I see tears in her eyes. I think it’s the first damn time since that day we had the snowball fight, all those years ago.
Since then, I’ve never seen her cry. Not even when she told me about that scumbag who lived with her for three years, who she caught cheating with his ex, right in her bed. Not even after her parents’ funeral, when she was just numb and shocked and sick.
“Hey, come on. They’re revving up the karaoke machine tonight, and guess what? It’s been ages since Kinsleyville had Drake Larkin around to tear up the show. You sit there and watch. I’m gonna give old Linda a run for her money tonight.”
She’s laughing before I even glug down my beer for liquid courage and step up to the mic. By the end of the night, those tears are all happy ones. I win a whole free round for the bar when Linda concedes defeat after I smoke her on three Johnny Cash songs.
It’s the last time I get to see Winnie laugh or cry.
It’s the last fucking time I see her alive.
Because three days later, that Friday, Angie calls me up.
She’s a nursing assistant at the hospital, and she tells me Drew was rushed in, beaten up bad. Four broken ribs, a gash across his face, something like a stab wound in his side where he’d lost a lot of blood.
First, I tried dialing Winnie, but she wouldn’t answer. Thinking she was at the hospital, I rushed on over, expecting I’d find her there. No trace.
I didn’t hear a thing till later, when the kid woke up and talked to the Tribal Police. I knew one of the guys, and he slipped me what little they got.
Drew told them two things.
First he said Winnie was gone. Disappeared, and the entire house was trashed.
Then he mumbled something about the Dragon, the man who took her.
It took me days to do some casing, figure out what the fuck he meant by such an odd, fucked up nickname. Time I wish I’d never spent.
Because by the time I had anything to go on, and went out in a blinding rage, hunting them in a snowstorm, it was too late.
Too damn late for Winnie and Dad both.
* * *
Present
“What’re you doing?”
Startled, I spin around. Bella’s on the porch.
Shaking off the bad memories, I say, “Just looking at Edison and wondering how many more bales I need to toss down.”
“You’re such a machine. All that crap with Dad and you want to go right back where you left off.” She snickers. “Need some help?”
It takes my fool head a second to realize what kind of help she means.
Her smile’s so sexy I nearly trip.
“Soon, darlin’. Real soon. Right now, I need you to take this.” I hand her the mail from her old man. “I’m going to finish in the hayloft, shower, and then we’re going to town for supper.”
As much as I’d love to have a repeat of our time in the hayloft, and finish what we’d started, it has to wait till tonight. Or else we’ll never get anything done.
“Fine, suit yourself.” She flashes a wink at me before turning around.
Little minx. Just you wait.
I walk to the barn, trying to convince myself I’m right. A repeat of today can’t happen if I’ve got any common sense, but I can’t come up with a good reason why.
We’re both adults. Consenting adults. Hell, we’re married for fuck’s sake.
I’m dripping with sweat by the time I get the bales tossed down and then stacked in the hay stall. While shoving the last bale in place, I see something tucked behind the string.
An old Post-it note.
I grin. Jonah loved those things.
Reaching, I pull it out carefully so it doesn’t rip. Yep, it’s his writing, all right.
Bella, make me proud.
Drake, do me prouder.
Edison, behave.
If any of you are reading this, then you know I’m still with you.
Love, Gramps (Jonah)
I freeze, staring at the phrase he wrote for me. Do me prouder.
Sly old bastard. I think I’d told him once those were the last words I’d ever said to Winnie. If he wanted to hit me right between the eyes without even being here, he’d done it.
He knows how to motivate me, remind me what’s at stake.
I smile at how he added his name, too, like I wouldn’t know who wrote it. I feed and water Edison, then head for the house.
Bella’s in the kitchen, wearing a thin, silky bathrobe. A short one. Very short.
An animal heat forms a growl, tearing at my throat. “Is that what you’re wearing to town?”
Her entire face shines. “Nope. My cell phone was down here, ringing, when I stepped out of the shower. I just hung up with my friend, Alexa.” She glances at my hand. “What’s that?”
“Yours. I found it in a hay bale. Jonah must’ve stuck it in there before I put them up in the loft.”
She reads it and laughs. For her, there’s no hidden meaning, just a touching, happy note from her grandfather.
We walk upstairs together, talking about Jonah’s infamous love of Post-its.
I fight the desire to ask her to join me in the shower with every step. She grins as we part in the hallway.
I shower under cool, crisp water. The only help I’ll get making my dick behave for a few more hours.
I’ve got patience and discipline in spades, but fuck.
Sitting next to Bella done up real pretty, knowing how she looks naked, and having to put up with Molly Reed’s antics might be too damn much for any raging hard-on.
I tie a towel around my waist before walking to my room to dress. Hers is empty, the door open, just the smell of perfume left behind. It’s simple and sweet and airy like her.
Entering my room, I walk straight to the dresser to check the expiration date on the stash of condoms I keep.
They’re still good. I even toss a couple extras in my wallet, knowing the need might hit to have Bella anywhere. An envelope catches my eye as I close the drawer.
What’s this? I pick it up and pull out the scrap of paper inside.
A sympathy card? I flip over the envelope and see it’s addressed to the family of Jonah Reed. The hair on the nape of my neck quivers at the familiar handwriting.
It can’t be Angie’s.
I open the card, and my stomach drops. No mistaking who it’s from.
My sincere condolences to your entire family. Having lost my father a few years ago, I know the pain you’re experiencing, and want to say that it gets easier. Time heals all wounds.
I didn’t know Mr. Reed. I just read about his passing online. The survivor list in his obituary mentioned Drake Larkin, a close companion.
I’m Drake’s sister, and I hope you’ll ask him to contact me at your co
nvenience. My children and I would love to hear from him. It’s been too long.
Sincerely,
Angie Larkin
Shit. I’ve never read Jonah’s obituary, and sure as hell didn’t know it mentioned my name. Roger Jones handled the public side of his death notices, probably using material Jonah himself came up with.
I can’t contact Angie either. Not right now.
Not till Dragon is behind bars for good.
He’s still in Wallace’s jail, which doesn’t make any sense.
Avery should’ve already bailed him out over a week ago. I can’t believe he’d let him get arrested in the first place.
The asshole always disappeared before he could be stung with any evidence. He always had an alibi.
And like clockwork, his old man moved him to another job site. Dragon usually just hangs around when the drilling starts, new prospecting. Briar must’ve thought he’d snag North Earhart as soon as Jonah died and planned on putting his son on one of the new sites the company recently opened.
I set the card on the dresser. Angie was furious I’d been searching for Dragon back then, and she’d be just as mad now.
When it’s all over, I’ll go home. See them all. Mend fences.
But till that day comes, I can’t give my sister a half-assed apology. And I can’t blow off the focus I need to finish this mission – not even for a wild, all too tempting distraction downstairs.
Once dressed, I head downstairs.
She’s in the living room, waiting. My body reacts before my mind even registers what I’m looking at.
'Fucking hot' doesn’t have enough punch to do her justice. Bella’s dress is the same emerald green as her eyes, and short as sin.
It cuts off just above the knees, and the high-heeled sandals make her slender, perfect, legs look even sexier.
“You look nice,” she says.
Me? Bull.
I’d put on a button-down shirt, black jeans, and a clean pair of boots. I shake my head. “You’re the showstopper, darlin’,” I say. “You’re so gorgeous, the town’s gonna wonder what the hell you’re doing on my arm.”
No exaggeration. Her hair hangs loose, calling to my fist, flashing chestnut waves rolled over her shoulders and down the sides of her arms. Christ.
She laughs. “My wardrobe can be a bit limited. I borrowed this from my friend, along with the black dress I’d worn for Gramps’ funeral.”
The neckline is cut low, and I’m instantly reminded of the hayloft. I give my head a clearing shake, but it doesn’t help much. “Hope she doesn’t want it back anytime soon.”
“No. She gave it to me, actually. It’s a bridesmaid dress she wore at a wedding, but she hated the color, said it looks better on me because it matches my eyes.”
“Damn right, it does.” So much for reining in that hard-on.
Grinning, she gives me a flirty look as she walks past. “Ready?”
I turn around to follow in her wake and nearly drop to my knees. Her ass deserves worship in that dress. And later, after dinner, I’m gonna haul her straight to the bedroom and find out how sweet it’ll bounce when I’m mounted, driving at her full force.
We take my truck and I fight to keep my greedy eyes on the road. They keep floating to her bare legs, giving back vivid flashes of everything I want to do later.
“Did you see the envelope I put in your bedroom?” she asks.
Finally, something less than sexy falls out of her mouth.
My jaw goes tight and I hold my eyes on the highway. “Yeah.”
“Did you call her? Angie?”
“No.”
Bella blinks, studying me. “Uh, are you going to?”
“No. Not now.”
“Why not?”
I feel like a belly-up snake she’s poking with a stick. “I’ll call her when the time’s right, darlin’. Let’s leave it at that.” Sensing she’s ready to fire another question, I quickly add, “We’ve got enough on our plate right now. No sense in piling up more with my old family matters.”
Her stilled silence says she’s not impressed with my answer.
So be it.
It’s the only one she’s gonna get today.
When we reach the restaurant connected to the hotel, and I park, I look her way while pulling the keys out of the ignition.
She smiles. “Ready?”
I’m relieved to see she’s gotten over the card from Angie. “Ready and willing. How ’bout you?”
She glances at the restaurant and nods. “It’s odd, but I’m excited to see my parents, knowing what I know now. So much makes sense now.” She grimaces slightly. “I don’t know that it should, but it feels good to know those things. It won’t make Mom and I best friends overnight, or even make me forget all the nasty, spiteful crap she’s done to me, but...it’s something. It’s history I can work with. It helps.”
“I’m sure it does.” I open the door and walk around the truck, helping her out and keeping my hand on the small of her back as we walk inside.
Her parents walk through a door connected to the hotel.
“We saw you pull in,” Gary says, hand out to shake mine.
“Annabelle, you look so nice,” her mother says, kissing the air next to Bella’s cheek.
“Thank you, Mom. You look nice too.”
Her mother shakes her head. “I had to order us clothes online of all things. The one time I under-pack.”
As the two of them walk into the dining area, Gary lays a hand on my arm, holding us back a few feet.
“Does Sheriff Wallace know it’s Avery’s son in his jail?” he asks as we slowly follow the women.
“Yeah. Wallace knows almost everything Jonah knew about Jupiter Oil.”
“Does he know everything you know?”
I try not to show how stiff my spine gets. “What do you mean?”
“Annabelle won’t be safe until Jupiter Oil gets shut down, or at least decapitated. Avery will keep on trying to buy her out. He’s adamant. And it won’t be shoddy deals or mismanagement, or anything else my father dug up on them that lands them in trouble. But those girls you talked about, the missing ones from the reservations...if Jupiter personnel really are connected, and you could prove it, it’d be the end of the company. The end of Avery Briar.”
There’s a weight in his voice that surprises me. He gets it. He really does.
Why had I ever underestimated him?
“Wallace can pull background checks on anyone in jail. Something might come up.”
“He already did,” I say. “Nothing on either of them. Alias names, too.”
“Shame. I’d hoped I was onto something.”
I’m saved from commenting by our arrival at the table. The glare Molly gives me as I hold Bella’s chair tells me I may have underestimated her, too.
If she ever hears the truth, it’s not going down one tenth as well as it did with Gary.
This woman will castrate me if she believes I’m responsible for getting her daughter into this mess.
15
Hottest Damn Thing (Bella)
I’m not entirely certain what has me feeling like I’m walking on cloud nine, but I do.
The evening has gone so well.
Mom hasn’t complained about anything for once, and Dad chatters away with Drake like they’re old friends. I should be waiting for the next shoe to drop instead of enjoying myself, but what could it be?
There’s not another shoe. Or a boot. Or a heel.
I hope.
I know Gramps’ reasoning for the marriage. I know Drake’s true purpose for helping, and I know what caused this horrific family infighting all those years ago.
There are no more surprises, I keep telling myself.
Buuut, actually...
A tiny twinge pulls at the corner of my eye.
There’s another surprise.
Drake doesn’t know I already called his sister. Angie Larkin didn’t answer, but I left her a voicemail. Letting her know Drake�
�s all right and where he’s at.
He got so grumpy when I asked about it, but that just proves he needs to talk to her and clear the air. Sooner rather than later.
He’ll feel better. I know I certainly do. My father’s visit today was like an epiphany. Though nothing has really changed, it’s too early, I don’t feel quite as oppressed by the weight of the world.
Not like this morning, when Drake wasn’t talking to me.
Then mother’s visit, and then...
My heart flutters as I glance at Drake. Our little romp in the hay was as filthy as it was delightful.
Alexa might die when she hears about it.
She knows the issues I’ve had with dating. She’s picked at my shameful virginity for years, telling me I just needed to break the ice. Once I thought I’d found the right man, of course.
That’s not how it went down.
He’d found me, taken me, and swept me away in a whirlwind of fiery bliss I can’t wait to repeat.
Maybe that’s what has me feeling extra giddy. But it also scares me.
The huge, inked, blue-eyed cowboy man at the table is hardly a stranger anymore. And it’s changed in the blink of an eye, only a few weeks.
What will six more months bring?
Six freaking months is more than enough time for two people to fall in love.
“Annabelle, you’ve barely touched your meal,” Mom says, glancing at my plate. “Do you want me to have it sent back to the kitchen?”
“Nope! It’s just the pasta, so filling.” I give the alfredo sauce a desperate stir with my fork.
“It’s all the carbs. They’ll make your blood sugar crash right into a coma.”
I nod, even though I know carbs have nothing to do with what’s knocking around my head every time I look at Drake. Food of any kind is the last thing on my mind right now.
“Well,” Mom says, blotting the corners of her mouth with her napkin. “I just have to lay this out on the table, so here it goes...”
Oh, no. Things were going so perfect. What now?
“Has there been an official announcement about your wedding?” she asks.