GREED (The Seven Deadly Series)

by Fisher Amelie

  I used to keep this obnoxious list of criteria for the girls I dated. I would often hang with my friends and we would amend it, sharpen it up, add a few things. I kept the list and used it, even after I graduated prep school. These were the basics.

  1) She must be a minimum of five foot ten.

  2) Her hair can never be cut above the shoulders.

  3) No fatties, but she has to maintain enough curves to satisfy.

  4) No smaller than a C-cup.

  5) Private school educated.

  6) She must run in our circle.

  7) Minimum seventy-five thousand dollar vehicle.

  Now for my more personal preferences:

  8) Blonde.

  9) Elegant features.

  10) Perfectly symmetrical face.

  11) Facial features must look balanced.

  12) No nicknames.

  13) Quiet.

  14) No clingers.

  I’d memorized the list. Oh my God, I thought, what a douche I’ve been.

  Cricket had obliterated it, just annihilated my previous criteria. She only shared a few attributes on the list, but I’d discovered something that evening that startled me. It didn’t matter to me what I wanted before, because I somehow didn’t want that anymore. I wanted someone short, thin and wispy with chin-length dark hair. Someone with grit, with gumption, with personality, with character, with humor. Someone who represented feisty, capable and talented. Someone like Cricket.

  Cricket was my new criteria.

  I crossed my arms across my chest and fell to sleep with a stupid grin on my face.

  “Well, she’s disgusting,” Piper said, filing at a nail.

  “What?” I asked, spinning around in my stool to face her.

  “This Cricket you speak of. She sounds dumb. She has no direction. She doesn’t want to stay at her grandparents’ ranch, but she’s too afraid to tell them so. She has no direction. She doesn’t share your dream. She’s not meant for you. Besides, she’s a frail little thing. Not very attractive, if you ask me.” My blood was boiling at a dangerous level. I found myself panting to control the anger. My fists coiled at my sides. “She’s going to take your money,” Piper provoked.

  I unexpectedly launched myself at Piper and wrapped my hand around her throat. Her nail file rang out as it hit the tile beneath our feet.

  “Take. That. Back,” I gritted.

  My hand tightened and her face began to look purple but instead of desperation, Piper’s eyes delighted in mischief and she smiled. I removed my hand and sat once more to calm myself down.

  “Sensitive?” she asked, catching her breath and leaning against the subzero in her ridiculous silk gown.

  “Don’t ever talk about her like that,” I ordered, still trying to tame my temper.

  Piper laughed.

  “You’re losing sight of what you’re doing. You’re too distracted. You need to focus. Girls will come and go, but this opportunity you’ve been presented is a once-in-a-lifetime thing.”

  My eyes narrowed on her. “How-how do you know about that?” I asked. “No one knows about that.”

  Piper sprawled out over the large island and faced me, her crimson hair cascading all around her. “I know everything,” she whispered. She ran a hand across the flat of her belly and patted it once. “Like when I knew Bridge was going to get pregnant...I orchestrated it!” she giggled insanely. “Just like I knew your mama would always stay with your father because she’s too cowardly and lazy to create a new life for herself. She’d rather taint her children with your father’s vile influence than save their souls.” My teeth began to grit. “I know everything. Just like I knew that teller would offer her body to get a little piece of your fortune.” Her voice dropped to a murmur. “Like I knew you would take those photographs. As I said, I know everything.” She laughed. “It’s almost too easy. People make it way too easy. No one has conviction these days. It’s pathetic. It’s not even fun anymore.”

  She began to cackle shrilly and it got louder and louder, so loud my eardrums felt like they would burst. I clasped my hands over my ears and shrank into myself. “Stop!” I begged. “Stop!” I yelled again. “Stop!”

  “Stop!” I cried out. I shot up and sucked in a frantic breath, in violent need of oxygen.

  My alarm pierced throughout the room and my hand trembled as it reached to turn it off. Sweet silence rang through my head once more. My body sagged against the wall adjacent to my bed as I tried to calm myself. I stared down at my hands and marked how badly they shook, stuffing them into my sides. My head lolled against the bottom of the window.

  “Are you okay?” a groggy-voiced Bridget asked.

  “Huh? Oh, yes, just a,” I swallowed, “a bad dream.”

  She looked at me fiercely, a confused expression on her face. “That must have been one horrible dream.”

  “It was nothing,” I told her, trying to smile.

  I threw my legs over the side of my bed and stood. I needed to get out of that trailer. I needed to get to work. I needed...something.

  As I brushed my teeth, I purposely thought of Cricket and her clever smile, trying to distract myself. These dreams were cutting too close. I hated them. I didn’t understand them and I wanted them gone so badly. I spat and rinsed, my hands still trembling, when a knock came to the door. Jonah, I thought, but when I opened it, I was surprised to see Cricket.

  “Cricket? Everything okay?” I asked, letting her in.

  She stepped inside and immediately I was calmed by her presence.

  “Yes, it’s just, we’re seeing too many calves dead in the field.”

  “What’s going on?” I asked, tossing on my jacket and hat.

  “We’re not sure, but it’s spreading quickly and we’re afraid for the calves yet to be born,” she explained as I followed her out and down the steps.

  “How many are dead?” I asked, curious, as we wound our way up the lane.

  “Eleven,” she said, her breath billowing out in front of her. She looked nervous, her brows furrowed in concentration. “We’ve tried several different antibiotics so far, but we don’t have the right combination.” She seemed to be talking to herself then. “At first I thought it might be pneumonia and umbilical disease, but the antibiotics used to treat those aren’t affecting them.” She slammed a fist into her hand. “We can’t afford to lose any more.”

  “Hey,” I said, touching her shoulder briefly and bringing her back. “We’ll figure it out.”

  She nodded. “Ethan,” she began, making my stomach clench, “has been out all night with them with Jonah. He’s resting now. I told him I’d get you to help me.”

  I bobbed my head, refusing to speak in fear I’d say something stupid.

  “We can’t afford to lose any more,” she said gravely.

  “Wait, with Jonah? Maybe I should drive Bridge up to the house.”

  She dismissed me. “Oh, no, he’s still getting Bridget this morning.”

  My eyes narrowed at her.

  “Is he?”

  “Yes,” she said matter-of-factly, deep in thought.

  “Why does he do that for her?” I asked her.

  She recognized my meaning and lifted her head cautiously. “Because Jonah is the nicest guy God ever made, Spencer.”

  “I don’t disagree, but I believe he’s more motivated than that.”

  She looked at the ground and tried to hurry before me. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  I snatched the back of her coat and brought her back. She looked up at me warily. “Cricket.”

  “Honestly?”

  “Honestly.”

  She sighed. “I don’t know.”

  “Bull!”

  “I’m serious! He’s a very secretive guy sometimes. He hasn’t said anything to any of us, that I know of, but we can see what you see.”

  I tugged off my cap and ran my fingers through my hair. Blond strands fell forward and almost reached the tip of my nose. I slicked it back and drew the
cap back on. “Doesn’t he recognize that she’s pregnant?”

  “He’s not an idiot,” she laughed. “Wanna know my opinion?”

  “What’s that?” I asked, as we reached the carriage house. I didn’t know what we were doing there, but I opened the door for her anyway.

  “I think he sees a kindred spirit in her.”

  I snorted.

  “What? Don’t believe me?”

  “No,” I answered simply as we rounded several tractors with massive blades in front.

  “Jonah’s a big guy,” she started and I laughed which made her grin. “Okay, a very big guy.

  “The guy should be a freaking linebacker.”

  “Exactly. He’s always been that large and to girls, that’s intimidating. In high school, he fumbled around like a goof, unable to control his massive frame. He’s always been lean, muscular, but it wasn’t until he hit his sophomore year, right about the time he became really interested in girls, that he became the Mister Universe we’ve all come to love. It didn’t help matters that he was shyer than anyone I’d ever met.”

  I whistled low.

  “Tell me about it. I would have to drag him around with me, practically speak for him if a girl was present.”

  I laughed out loud. The idea of itty-bitty Cricket acting as bodyguard to Montana’s version of Tom Hardy was too hilarious.

  “Shut up,” she said, fighting a giggle. “He’s a giant teddy bear and incredibly sensitive. I remember him telling me how he hated how people stared at him.”

  “Ah,” I said, finally realizing what she meant. “The way the ranch stares at Bridge.”

  “Exactly. Like she’s a novelty,” she said quietly. “He wants to shield her from all that.” She cleared her throat. “It doesn’t hurt that Bridge is Barbie personified, a virtual Miss Sweden.”

  “Oh God, don’t say that!” I cringed.

  “Sorry to inform you, Mr. Blackwell, but your sister is like liquid gold around here, pregnant or not. She may slip through their fingers, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t going to try.”

  “Oh, jeez,” I said, wincing.

  “And Jonah’s a gentle soul. He’s not going to rip and grasp at your sister like these other boys would. He’ll tenderly cup his hands and just wait for her to pour herself inside. He’s a patient guy.”

  “Okay, just stop. Stop. The visuals you’re giving me are pissing me off.” She laughed loudly. “What’s so funny?”

  “You. You’re funny.”

  I pulled my smile to one side and raised a brow.

  We approached a room with a glass door, incongruent with the rustic feel of the remaining carriage house.

  “What is this?” I asked.

  “This is an operating room. Occasionally we’ll have to do emergency C-sections.”

  “Whoa. Who does those?”

  “Pop Pop,” she said absently, searching through large cabinets.

  “Cool.”

  “It really is,” she said, briefly gracing me with that clever smile. “I help him with each one. I have since I was little. Well, as long as I wasn’t in school.”

  “Get out.” I studied her. “Ever done one by yourself?”

  “Never,” she admitted. “I’ve only done three, but Pop Pop was there talking me through it.”

  “Still,” I said, more than impressed.

  “Got it!” she said, pulling out a large bottle of something.

  I edged near her. “What’s that?”

  “Ceftiofur crystalline free acid. It’s a sterile suspension. I’m going to try it on a few of the cows in the barn. See if we get a positive reaction. Doc suspected pneumonia from the symptoms we told him over the phone.” She looked at me. “He’s out of town. It’s respiratory for sure, I’m just not sure it’s pneumococcal.”

  She grabbed a few more vials and we trekked it out to the barn. She readied syringes and stuck the bovines with ease, rubbing out the muscles where she pricked them, and moving from cow to cow, like she played doctor every day, talking about nonsense all the while. She floored me.

  “Done,” she said, disposing of the vials and the syringes.

  “What now?” I asked.

  “The boys have probably already mucked out the stalls. Let’s mount a few horses and check the fields for any more sickly calves or cows.”

  I nodded, invigorated by her determination. I almost forgot about my insane dream. Almost.

  Piper invading my dreams brought forth the memories of all my detestable sins—ending with Lola and the photographs and Las Vegas. They ran through my thoughts on a never-ending cycle and completely deflated me. I recognized a goodness in Cricket that appeased those haunting reflections and knew from then on, I would always want to be surrounded by her. Something in her staved them off, and I was determined to find out her secret.

  We saddled up and rode out into the field nearest the ranch. It’d snowed over a foot throughout the night and Eugie was having trouble lifting his joints through the height, so I lifted him onto my saddle and he sat cradled in front of me. Cricket shook her head at me.

  “You’ll spoil him,” she said with a smile.

  “So?” I challenged.

  She rolled her eyes in jest and trotted forward toward a calf laying down.

  “Oh no,” she quieted under her breath.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked her, confused.

  She dismounted. “They shouldn’t lie like this,” she explained. “They get hypothermia and die quickly this way. She must be sick too.”

  “What should we do?” I asked, dismounting myself.

  “We’ll have to take her back with her mama. Put her in the barn with the others. If the new mix of antibiotics works, we can start treating the herd and prevent more deaths.”

  We took the calf back to the barn then headed right back out into the blistering cold, Eugie all the time cosseted in my lap. We discovered three more in the herd like the last and two more dead calves.

  “This is bad, Spencer,” she said when we happened upon the second corpse. She threw her leg off her horse and settled her boots into the deep snow. I followed suit, dropping Eugie beside me. She looked on me for a moment.

  “If I could fix it for you, I would,” I told her, feeling beyond helpless.

  She smiled softly. “I know,” she said. She looked at the lifeless calf and sighed. “Pop Pop will not be pleased.” I shook my head in response. “We’re relying heavily on this being an excellent year for us. We’re depending on it.”

  This felt beyond foreboding. Cricket was confiding in me her family’s secret fears.

  “What will happen if you don’t make it what you need it to be?” I asked bluntly.

  She looked at me with glassy eyes. “I couldn’t even begin,” she said.

  “Then we will make this year what you need it.”

  She smiled sadly. “Easier said.”

  We skipped breakfast that morning, too busy with the crisis of the ranch, but lunch was a requirement. We’d burned so many calories working and because of the cold, Cricket started to look ill.

  “Come on,” I told her when she locked another calf and its mother in a stall.

  “No,” she said, heading back toward the carriage house.

  I tugged on her jacket. “Nope, I insist. Lunch. Now.”

  “I can’t, Spencer, I’ve got—” she began but I cut her off by dragging her through the barn doors against her will.

  I had to admit, manhandling someone so small delighted me to no end. She couldn’t even put up a decent fight. Although her bony hands did annoy just a tad when she feistily punched at me, but I only laughed at her monstrous effort and the tiny effect it truly had. She laughed as she fought me down.

  “I can’t get a grip,” she complained.

  “Yeah, that’s it,” I laughed before turning to a mock seriousness. “Quiet,” I ordered. “Ellie will kill me if I let you go any farther. You look pale.”

  “Uh,” she said, staring up at me as I toss
ed her tiny figure around like a rag doll. “I hate to break it to you, but my skin is naturally this transparent.”

  “You’re pale, I grant you, but your face always has a bit of rosy in its cheeks, and I’ve never seen your eyes this dull.” She stared at me and I stopped abruptly, setting her down for a moment. She haughtily adjusted her clothing. “I mean, from what I’ve observed. You know, in passing,” I told her, continuing on again. My neck started to heat under my bandana.

  “You, uh, notice those things about me, do you?” she asked, as we ascended the staircase and began to round the deck toward the dining hall.

  “It’s no secret I’m attracted to you, Cricket.”

  Her face got a little bit of its color back. “Don’t do that,” she breathed and considered the ground.

  “I won’t do anything about it, Cricket. I fully recognize you’re with Ethan.”

  Her head whipped my direction. “You-you won’t?” she asked. Did I detect a hint of disappointment? Click.

  “No, I won’t. I’m not in the habit of breaking up relationships,” I informed her before amending the statement. “Well, not anymore.” I winked at her and she shook her head.

  “Good,” she asserted, but it felt weak and that made me happier than I could possibly say.

  “Good,” I repeated with strength.

  “Good,” she said again, but this time with a hitch.

  “Great,” I challenged, stopping and peering down at her.

  “Excellent,” she said, facing me, her hands on her hips.

  “Outstanding,” I declared, a brow raised.

  “Wonderful,” she hesitated.

  “Brilliant,” I nearly shouted.

  “Peachy,” she countered, but her hands fell at her sides.

  I leaned into her and whispered, “Phenomenal.”

  She swallowed. “S-super,” she stuttered, staggering back a bit.

  “Sensational,” I responded, inching closer.

  She glanced to her right, toward the door, then back at me, licking her lips.

  “You want to kiss me right now, don’t you, Cricket Hunt?”

  Her eyes blew wide. “I-I do not,” she insisted, stepping back from me.