'Til Death (A Rebel Ridge Novel)

by Sharon Sala

  Fagan sighed. “I’d say that’s because the first two she picked were losers and she was too damned fed up with men in general to try again, but that’s just me.”

  Prince frowned. “It don’t matter. I’m gonna fuck her, and then I’m gonna slit her damn throat...but that’s after you find out where the money is hid.”

  “Me? After what you did, do you think her or any of her family is gonna let me close to her? No. You messed this up. You figure it out.”

  “Damn it! You go find out where that money’s buried!” Prince screamed. “I’m near to broke. I would already be there, but I rolled a drunk I found passed out the other night.”

  “No,” Fagan said. “You figure something else out.” He wasn’t good at telling his brother no, so he hung up before Prince could push any more.

  * * *

  The days passed quickly as Linc worked from daylight to dark, and the closer it got to Sunday, the more anxious he became. In one single meal he was going to set wheels in motion, but he had no way of knowing where they would take him. He wanted his life back, and with Meg in it. Knowing she was so damn close made him antsy—made the need to clear his name more vital than ever.

  By the time Friday rolled around he was putting the finishing touches on his new living quarters.

  Instead of letting it take up space in the shelter, he had removed the old iron door and built a ten-by-ten room in front of it. He added a shower stall and toilet, along with a washer and dryer, then put a door on the west side of the new room and used it for the entrance to his place. He had just hammered the last nail in the lone kitchen shelf, stopping to make sure it was level. As long as his meager assortment of dishes didn’t slide off, it would suffice.

  He had brought in a small refrigerator a few hours ago, and had an apartment-size cookstove that ran on propane, as well as a small wood-burning stove he’d set just inside the old entrance and vented through the new addition. He’d bought a couple of small cabinets from a used-furniture store in Mount Sterling to use for kitchen storage, and a long narrow table instead of countertops to serve dual purpose. In a short space of time he’d transformed the dark, dirty shelter into a warm, cozy place to winter.

  He’d built his own bed frame at the far end of the room, and laid two regular-size mattresses end to end to accommodate his size and height. He had an old dresser and a portable rack for his clothes, and a recliner and a floor lamp for the seating area, with a red-and-brown braided rug on the floor between the recliner and his flat-screen TV.

  Even if it was a snug fit for a man his size, the good feeling he got from knowing he was now living on the land that had been in his family for five generations lifted his spirit.

  His stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since early morning. There was food in his travel trailer, and as soon as his refrigerator cooled off overnight he would move it all inside. But tonight he was sleeping and eating in here, and he couldn’t wait.

  The fire burning in the woodstove by the door was heating the place just fine. He washed his hands at the kitchen sink, satisfied with how quickly the water drained, and was on his way out to get food when he saw a car driving up.

  * * *

  Meg had gone home the day after the wreck. Once her family got past the fact that she’d come out of a scary situation with very few injuries they’d backed off and let her recuperate on her own. Ryal had been noticeably silent. Although it was unlike him, it was a relief. However, she knew the day was coming when they would all find out who her rescuer had been.

  She’d been at the mercy of family for food and errands as she waited for her insurance to settle up. When the money came through, Dolly took her to Mount Sterling to look at cars. Meg knew what she needed, and she knew how much she had to spend, which made the decision fairly simple. Once she found what she wanted and the dealership began the paperwork, Dolly left. A short while later, Meg drove home on her own.

  Once she returned, she began counting up how many finished quilts she had and thinking about the annual quilt show she participated in every year. It opened the day after Thanksgiving and provided a large part of her yearly income.

  When she went to bed that night, with Honey on a rug beside her bed, it didn’t take her long to fall asleep. Between the security Quinn had added to the place and knowing Linc was but a short distance away, she felt safe.

  She woke up the next morning with one thought in mind: to see Lincoln Fox. Considering what he’d done for her, it was the neighborly thing to do.

  But knowing she could go didn’t mean she had the guts to do it. It took another day before she got up the nerve and, even then, she went bearing gifts.

  * * *

  Meg was sick to her stomach with nerves as she drove up to where the old house used to stand. When she saw Linc walk out from what looked like a new shed, her heart skipped a beat.

  She’d seen him in the dark with a fur-lined parka over his head, and she’d seen him in the shadows of her room, but this was the first time she was seeing him in the bright light of day, and there was no way to describe him without a hitch in her breath.

  The tall, gangly boy she’d known had grown into a giant, and a good-looking one at that. Strong arms, long legs, shoulders wide enough for two men, and only a hint of silver in his thick, dark hair. The thought went through her mind that it was a good thing he was big and strong, because he’d come home with a heavy burden to shed.

  She took a deep breath, killed the engine and got out.

  “See you got yourself a new car,” he said, eyeing the shiny chrome on the silver SUV.

  She nodded. “It’s a 2007, but new to me, and it runs well, which is all that matters.”

  He eyed the healing cut at the edge of her hairline.

  “How’s your head?”

  She shifted nervously from one foot to the other and then stuck her hands in her coat pockets to keep them warm. “It’s good. I hope you don’t mind that I just dropped in like this.”

  His eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he noticed a muscle tick at the corner of her eye. Damn it to hell, she was scared. He didn’t know whether to be hurt or mad, but either way, he couldn’t let it show.

  “I don’t mind at all, and you’re way prettier than the sheriff.”

  Meg smiled, a little embarrassed by the compliment, and then she remembered why she’d come, moved back to the car and got a big garbage bag out of the backseat.

  “This is for you,” she said, handing it over. “It’s part thank-you for saving me and part housewarming gift.”

  Linc smiled. “I can’t remember the last time someone gave me a present. Come inside where’s it warm while I open this. I want to show you what I’ve been doing.”

  When she hesitated, he remembered the fear on her face and thought she was uneasy about going inside with him.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

  “Don’t apologize,” she said. “I’m the one being stupid. Truth is, I don’t know how to do this.”

  “Do what?” he asked.

  “Pretend I’m not attracted to you. Pretend you’re not attracted to me.”

  Pain for what they’d lost rolled through him in a long, continuous wave, then it passed, leaving him weak and wanting.

  “Hey...I never was any good at pretending, either, so why don’t we just admit it’s there and let it grow or die at its own pace?”

  Relieved, she nodded.

  “So come and see,” he said, and led the way inside.

  Eight

  Meg was surprised, and then entranced by Linc’s ingenuity. What she’d thought was just a shed was actually a well-insulated utility room and entryway leading into the shelter. She followed him inside. The woodstove was just to her right, putting out heat, and she held her hands to it, briefly warming them as she eyed the rest of the room.

  “Linc! This is amazing! You’re really good at this.”

  He shrugged. “It’s what I do for a living.”

  �
�Construction? There’s definitely a need for remodeling and new housing here, but no money to build it. You won’t get much business.”

  “It doesn’t have to be here to be viable,” he said. “I have a construction company in Dallas. It’s not hard to run a business like that long-distance when you have a good people working for you.”

  She eyed him curiously. “You have all that and yet you still came back. Why now, Linc?”

  There was only one way to explain, but she would have to see to believe. He set down the package, took off his coat and started unbuttoning his shirt.

  “Wait!” Meg said. “I didn’t—”

  “It’s not what you think,” Linc said as he undid the last button and dropped the shirt on the table.

  Meg gasped. The scars on his chest were indescribable.

  “There are more on the bottoms of my feet where it exited my body.”

  “Lincoln! Oh, my God! What happened to you?”

  “I was electrocuted. It was a freak on-the-job accident. I was dead for four minutes before they resuscitated me. I have no memory of anything except waking up in the hospital, burned.”

  Her eyes welled. “When did this happen?”

  “About six months ago. During the time I was healing, I kept having the same dream of my dad telling me to go home. I finally accepted it was the reason I’d come back from the dead. I was supposed to find out who really killed him and clear my name. It took a while to get well, and then a little longer to get everything lined up with my crews, but once it was done, I headed for Kentucky...and...well...here I am.”

  Meg kept staring at the scarring, imagining the pain he’d gone through. “I don’t know what to say.”

  He picked up his shirt. “I’d take a simple ‘welcome home’ and be grateful.”

  She took a deep shaky breath. “Welcome home, Lincoln.”

  “Thanks,” he said, then eyed the package. “Okay if I open this now?”

  She nodded.

  He untied the knot in the bag and then pushed the edges aside, revealing the blue-and-white quilt within. He carefully pulled it out, then ran his hand over the surface, tracing the tiny stitches on one of the blocks with the tip of his finger.

  “Meg! Oh, wow! This is beautiful.”

  “Thanks. I just finished it a few days ago.”

  Surprise was evident in his voice. “You made this?”

  “You build houses. I make quilts.”

  “To sell?”

  She shrugged. “It’s not much, but I don’t need much. It’s how I support myself.”

  “This is absolutely stunning. I know this was meant to keep me warm, but it’s also going to become my new bedspread. It’s too pretty to cover up. I didn’t have a bedspread, but I do now.”

  He took it to the back of the room, and spread it over the sheets and blankets, but he didn’t get the full effect of the pattern until it was completely unfolded.

  “Meg! This is amazing! It looks like it’s in motion.”

  She smiled, pleased that he appreciated her skill.

  “I found the pattern in my grandma Foster’s old trunk. It’s the first time I’ve made one like this. It’s called Storm at Sea.”

  Linc looked back at the quilt, seeing the waves and motion built into the fabric with color and print. “Yes, I see it.” The corner of his mouth tilted wryly. “And it’s an apt choice, considering what’s ahead of me.”

  She frowned. “I didn’t think of it like that. If you’d rather have—”

  He stopped her with a touch. “Don’t even think it. This is perfect, and—amazingly—long enough for my oversize bed.”

  Meg looked back at the bed, marveling at the size. “It’s a good thing I always make my quilts extralong. How did you find a bed that big?”

  He grinned. “Oh, they don’t sell beds like that. I made the frame, then put two mattresses end to end.”

  “Good Lord! And Mama thought she had it bad raising all of us long-legged Walkers. No telling how big your children will—”

  She realized what she was saying too late to take it back and looked down at the floor. She was too close to him, and the bed was too close to them both, and she didn’t know what she wanted more, to strip or run.

  Linc wanted her in his arms. Instead, he held his ground. Saying anything at this point would make everything worse.

  “I think it’s time for me to go. I’ve already outstayed my welcome,” she said, and headed for the door.

  “Meg!”

  She stopped, but wouldn’t look at him.

  “You’re wrong,” Linc said. “You’ll never outstay your welcome with me.”

  The urge to turn around was so strong that she was shaking, but she kept walking. By the time she got outside, she was running. She jumped in her car and drove away—knowing no matter how fast she drove, or how far she went, she would never get far enough to make the longing go away.

  * * *

  Prince had been lying low in first one no-tell motel and then another, never staying in one place too long for fear the cops would find him, but he’d run into an inevitable hitch. He was down to his last thirty dollars, and since Fagan had balked at helping him, short of pulling a heist—which wasn’t a good idea, considering he’d pawned his pistol for the money in his pocket—he was about to hit up another sibling for dough.

  It was just after daybreak when he left his motel room. The sky was overcast and gray, the day already cold and, from the looks of the weather, bound to get colder. He just hoped it didn’t snow again. It took several tries before his truck would start. When the engine finally turned over, he breathed a sigh of relief. He couldn’t be broke and afoot. The cops would find him for sure.

  Even though he knew his sister’s address he’d never been to her house, but he intended to pay her a visit as soon as he got himself some food.

  He stopped at a quick stop, picked up a couple of sausage-egg biscuits from the deli counter and a large coffee, then went back to his truck to eat. He kept one eye on the clock and another on the people going in and out of the store, and was down to his last few bites when a police cruiser drove up. Just seeing the black-and-white turned his stomach. He washed down the food in his mouth with a big gulp of coffee and drove away.

  It took him nearly fifteen minutes to find the gated community in which Lucy lived, then another five before he located her house. He parked a few houses down to wait until her husband, Wes, left for work. As he sat, he thought about the buried money and how he could get to Meg to make her talk.

  His first mistake had been in fucking with her—moving her stuff around, letting the cow out, then those damned flowers he had intended to leave on her kitchen table just to freak her out a little more before he made his move. Who knew something as simple as a squeaking floorboard could have given him away, or that she was as good a shot as her brothers? Looking back, he should have just gone to her house with some made-up story about Bobby Lewis telling her he was sorry for all he’d done to cause her trouble, then struck up a conversation with her and found out what he needed to know without all the other drama.

  But the truth was, he had wanted to get in her pants. His daddy used to tell him his dick was going to get him in trouble one day, only Daddy had meant that Prince would most likely wind up running from some girl’s pissed-off father, not running from the law.

  He upped the fan power on the heater, wishing he had more coffee to warm his belly, too, when he realized Lucy’s garage door was going up. Wes was finally leaving for work. Prince’s eyes narrowed, watching as a shiny black Lincoln came backing out of the garage and down the driveway into the street. Wesley Duggan owned a car dealership in Mount Sterling and drove nothing but the best. Lucy should be good for several thousand, for sure. Prince slumped a little farther down in the seat as Wes drove past, and as soon as the car was no longer in sight, Prince pulled up into her driveway. He rang the doorbell several times and then began knocking loudly until he got results.

  When h
is sister finally came to the door, the shock on her face was worth the wait. He grinned. Lucy was still in her robe and nightgown, and her hair was all flat on one side, like she’d just gotten out of bed. She looked like she was going to faint.

  “Hello, sister. What’s the matter? Aren’t you gonna ask me in?”

  Lucy pulled her robe tighter beneath her neck against the cold.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Why, I was just in the neighborhood and stopped to pay my respects.”

  She gave a quick look up and down the street, then grabbed his arm and yanked him inside, out of sight.

  “I smell coffee. How about you pour me a cup while we talk?” he said.

  “Yeah, well, I smell shit. How about you clean your shoes next time before you step into my house?”

  He glared. “Damn it, Lucy White! You come out of the same woman’s belly as I did, so don’t pull this high-and-mighty attitude with me. You don’t want to be neighborly? Fine. You want me gone? It’ll cost you five thousand.”

  She gasped. “Dollars?”

  Prince rubbed his thumb and forefinger together under her nose in a “pay up” gesture. When Lucy slapped it away, he laughed.

  “That don’t change a damn thing. I need some money, sister dear, and I need it fast.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What have you done?”

  “That ain’t none of your business.”

  She drew back her hand and slapped him. Hard. Within seconds she was in his face and pushing him backward toward the door.

  “Just because I live in a nice house with a good, decent man doesn’t mean I forgot how to fight back. You don’t come into my house and threaten me. You don’t come into my house and expect to blackmail me just to get you off my back. If I want you gone bad enough, I’ll shoot you dead where you stand and tell the cops you were breaking into my house, that I didn’t know it was you before I shot. And if you’re wanting money that bad, then I’m guessing the cops are already after you and will thank me for ridding them of your sorry ass.”

  Prince’s belly rolled. This was the Lucy he remembered, and he knew she was fully capable of what she’d threatened. He decided it was time to try another tack.