Mint Juleps and Justice

by Nancy Naigle

  “A tree fort. Is that another one of your fantasies?” teased Jenny. “You got a little Tarzan fantasy you’ve been keeping from me?”

  “Shut up.” She elbowed Jenny. “Look at this setup. We could go with the pewter for the mint juleps but I think these glasses are much prettier. We could even probably get them personalized as a keepsake for folks to take home.”

  “I like that. By the way, Rick drove me by where Mike is having his new house built. It’s no tree fort.”

  “Shush.” Brooke shot Jenny a look. “I don’t want to know.”

  “Quit shushing me. You have to admit it would be fun to be married to friends.”

  “Please stop it. It’s not going to happen. I can’t even think about Mike like that anymore.” Brooke’s attention moved to the landscape out the window. “Look. Rainbow, good luck!” She pointed toward the horizon.

  Jenny looked in that direction. “See, a lucky sign. You have to give Mike another chance. He could be your dream guy.”

  “I’m not going there. I’m glad you found yours, though.”

  “Me too.” Jenny watched Rick carry their pizza back to the table.

  They brainstormed ideas for the party and Rick gave them the horse-racing 101 class while they ate.

  “It’s going to be tight, but we can make it work.” Brooke sorted the tasks and then leaned forward to catch Rick’s attention. “Okay, partner. We’ve got a lot to do.”

  “I’m there. What’s first?” he asked.

  “Well, one thing you need to do right away is figure out the color scheme. Can you get me the image of what the jockey’s going to wear and all?”

  “Done.”

  “It would be great if we could get a few people to say something about the investment, kind of toasting the whole thing. It would set a nice celebratory mood.”

  “Mike can do that. He’s great at that stuff.”

  Brooke had hoped this would get her mind off Mike, not force her to work with him or involve him. “He’s out of town. You might have to come up with someone else.” Please come up with someone else.

  “No. Mike’s the guy.” Rick pulled his phone from his hip, and dialed Mike’s number. It went straight to voicemail. “Hey, man. It’s Rick. I hate to leave this on a message, but I’m being forced to do it. That Brooke can be real bossy. Anyway, I’ll give you all the details when you get back in town. Hell, you might even think I’m crazy, but I know I’m doing the right thing. Need you to say a few words at the big event.” He snapped the phone shut and gave her a “what next?” look.

  “Bossy?” Brooke feigned insult.

  Rick pulled his shoulders up with a sheepish grin and pushed his phone back on his hip.

  “Well, at least it’s done. Thank you.” Brooke marked the task at one hundred percent. “One down, and a lot to go.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Figures.” Brooke snatched the sticky note from the dashboard and crumpled it in her hand.

  The word GAS was nearly invisible to anyone but the one who had written it. She’d scribbled it in cherry lip gloss, the only thing she could put her hands on while driving this morning.

  “Great. Now I’m turning into Mother.”

  When she was a kid her mom’s car and purse had scraps of paper taped all over them: milk and eggs, Dr. Tuesday 1 p.m., or a note that read GAS. Nothing was worse than the time Mom had picked a group of them up with a note that read tampons in thick black marker stuck to the radio. Jenny still teased her about that one. Too bad Mom hadn’t been the one to patent the sticky note. They could have made millions. Brooke hated that habit, and yet here she was, the sticky note version of Mom.

  The gas gauge was well into the red zone, so close to empty there was no way she’d make it to the Y for her massage appointment without stopping, which would put her further behind.

  “Why do I always do this?” She pushed the CD button and tried to unwind to the music as she sped through town toward the gas station.

  At the first stoplight, she called to let the massage therapist know she was running late. Because she was a regular, they didn’t mind moving her appointment out another forty-five minutes, which was good because it took darn near forty-five minutes to get anywhere from Adams Grove and that was taking some getting used to.

  Feeling less rushed, she wheeled into the gas station and popped the fuel latch. While pumping the gas she spotted something on her back glass.

  Had it been there for the whole ride or just landed? “Praying mantis, good luck!” She knew it was a stretch, but anything as rare as a praying mantis sighting felt lucky to her. Brooke’s rules.

  She hooked the hose back onto the pump and clicked the gas cap in place. Receipt in hand, she got back in the car. Then, worried about the praying mantis, she reached under the seat, grabbed her ice scraper and hopped back out to give the little bug some encouragement off her car.

  “If you get hurt joyriding on my car, that could be bad luck for me.” She slid the scraper under the delicate creature and placed it on the safety of the pump. Feeling good about taking the time to save the insect, she slid back in the car. She leaned against the door to pull her phone off her hip and recheck the time.

  The driver’s door swung open. Off-balance, she nearly fell out of the car and onto the pavement.

  “What the…” Her phone fell to the floorboard as she struggled to right herself in the seat, but a strong hand gripped the top of her arm and pulled her from the car and to her feet.

  “Keith? What—”

  He yanked her tight against his body.

  “Stop. That hurt,” she seethed, jerking away from him. “What are you doing? I’m in a hurry.”

  “Make time. I’m still your husband, after all.” He grabbed her sleeve.

  “Not for long.” She tugged her arm away. “Leave me alone,” she managed through clenched teeth.

  He squeezed her arm tighter. “Get in the passenger seat.”

  “Who the he—”

  “Now.” His face was so close to hers that she could feel the moist heat of his stale breath. His skin smelled of sweat. His jaw pulsed and his nostrils flared, sending her cowering back as far as his grip would allow. This wasn’t the cool GQ man she knew.

  “Don’t screw with me and don’t say another word,” he grunted. “Now…get in the passenger seat. We’re going to have a little chat.”

  “You should be talking to my lawyer.” She turned to walk back around and get in her car and leave, but Keith raised his hand and when he did, she spotted the gun on his hip. She stopped.

  “No more lawyers.”

  Brooke surveyed the area for help or an escape. The big gas pumps blocked the view of the other customers just a few feet away from her. Their argument hadn’t even attracted one onlooker. Brooke started to argue, but the look on Keith’s face was so dark she swallowed the words as quickly as they formed and headed to the passenger side of the car.

  Keith opened the door and she got in. He leaned in across her.

  “What are you doing?”

  He buckled the seat belt across her chest. “Don’t…move.” He slammed the door and circled the back of the car.

  Brooke unclicked the seat belt and dove for the keys in the ignition. Catching them in the first grab, she stuffed them under the seat and scrambled to exit just as Keith got in the driver’s seat. The door lock clicked just as she lifted the handle.

  “I said we’re going to have a little chat, you and me. It was a statement. Not a question.”

  “Talk to my attorney. I’ve already told him you can have whatever you want.”

  He shook his head.

  “Do you hear me? I just want the hell out. You win.”

  The man at the next pump stepped in front of her car. “You okay, lady?”

  Finally. At least someone was curious enoug
h to step in. The good luck from the praying mantis was already paying off.

  Keith gave the guy a nod and a smile. “Tell him you’re fine.”

  “My ex,” she said through the window with a nod toward Keith. Maybe that would be enough to send a red flag, but no. The man shrugged and walked back to his pickup and continued pumping his fuel.

  “I’m not your ex yet,” Keith reminded her.

  “What the hell has gotten into you?”

  “Cute move with the key. Stupid, but cute.” He whistled through his teeth. Then he pulled a key from his pocket. He waved it in the air, flaunting it before stuffing it into the switch with a quick twist. The engine rumbled. “Lookee here. Who’s smart now?”

  “Where did you get a key to my car?”

  Keith gunned the engine. He gave her a smug look and laughed.

  “You thief. I knew you were in my house. I knew it, and this time I have a witness.”

  The car rolled through the gas station lot.

  She pulled on the door handle, but he clicked it locked again as quick as she could hit the unlock. This was one time she wished she didn’t have electric everything on this car. She tried to make eye contact with the man from the pickup truck, but he had his back to them now.

  “Don’t get clever,” he warned as he drove with one hand on the steering wheel and one on the door lock.

  She hit the door with her fist out of frustration, then withdrew her hand and rubbed her knuckles. “What do you think you’re doing, and why?”

  “Why? Because I can.” He snickered, looking right proud of himself. “You never did give me enough credit. We had a good thing once.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Mike had resisted the urge to call Brooke as soon as he’d gotten back. The whole reason he’d taken the job in Montana was to give her the space she’d wanted. There was no way he could have honored that wish while in the same town with her. But now that he was back it was harder than ever to do that. He wished he’d arranged to pick up Hunter from the kennel tonight. The apartment was just too quiet.

  He checked the data on Keith Farrell and didn’t see anything concerning. There were no issues logged in the security system either. That was probably behind them now.

  He looked out the window wishing he could catch a glimpse of her.

  Things had moved so quickly with her, but even after the cooling-off period, he wanted to see her more than ever. How would he even know if she felt the same way?

  The mail had stacked up while he was gone but by the end of the day he had everything caught up. He grabbed his keys and headed to the filling station just out of town and got gas. He parked on the side of the building and went inside to pick up a couple things. As he walked out of the store, he saw Brooke’s car. His heart raced, and he couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face.

  But just as he walked toward the car, he noticed the man standing to her side.

  Keith.

  He raced to his car to call the sheriff, but before he could get into the car, they’d sped out of the lot.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Brooke held her breath as Keith eased into traffic. Two green lights put him on the interstate in a hurry and Brooke was regretting getting in the car with him. Trace Adkins badonkadonked from the CD, matching the beat of Brooke’s heart. Keith ejected the CD, pushed the button to lower the window, and sent it reeling across the highway like a tiny UFO.

  “That was my favorite CD.”

  “I hate that country noise.”

  “So next time use the off button, how ’bout it?” She threw a hand up in frustration. “You’ve made your point. You’re smart. Smarter than me. You win. Now stop this car and let me out. I’m already running late for an appointment.”

  “You’re gonna be late all right, and if anyone will be rubbing your back tonight…it will be me, baby.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “How did you know where I was going? Why can’t you stay out of my business?”

  He grinned and winked. “Doesn’t matter how, what matters is that I do know. I’ll rub you for free. It’ll be the rub of your life.”

  “You’re disgusting. I wouldn’t let you touch me if I was dying and needed CPR.”

  “Might be the last rub of your life then. Suit yourself.”

  “Let me out now. You’re creeping me out. Stop. Right here. I’m not kidding.” Keith didn’t say another word as they continued south on the interstate.

  He flipped on the radio and switched to the static of an AM sports radio station and cranked up the volume. The loud banter of overexcited testosterone and static made it hard to think clearly.

  She put a hand up to her right ear, trying to muffle the noise. “Turn it down. I can’t think.”

  “You don’t need to think. You have no control now.”

  No control? Like hell.

  Keith sat stiff and straight, his eyes focused on the road ahead like he was programmed for a mission. Her options were limited. She couldn’t jump from a moving car, that’s for sure. He was exceeding the speed limit. She prayed for blue lights and sirens. Where was a cop when you needed one?

  She pulled her hands up over her ears and settled back in the seat.

  Finally, he turned off the radio. She was grateful for the peace at first, but the silence became worse than the noise. This was out of character, even for Keith.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, trying to sound calm.

  “You’ll know soon enough.”

  “I need to get home to Stitches. Please turn around.”

  “You love that dog more than you ever loved me,” hissed Keith.

  “We’re not having this conversation again. This is stupid.”

  “Stupid? I’m not stupid. And I didn’t do anything to that moppy-lookin’ little piece of shit dog of yours.”

  “At least she never cheated on me. She deserves my love. Can’t say that for you.”

  His hand came from the wheel to her throat, pushing her head against the passenger window, nearly choking her. “Take that back.”

  There was fury in his voice. Her eyes went wide, realizing the strength in his grip. She scrambled and he let loose, his hand settling back on the steering wheel.

  She rubbed her throat and chin, and opened her mouth wide to make sure he hadn’t broken her jaw with the forceful move.

  “All you ever do is work. I’ve been watching.”

  Not doing a very good job of it then. She held her tongue. There was no sense battling with him.

  His voice was steadier now. “I know you miss me.”

  “What the heck are you talking about?”

  “You shouldn’t have left me.”

  “Keith, you were gone way before I ever left. You have no idea what I’m doing with my time, so shut up.”

  “You have no idea how much I know. Would it scare you that I know every move you’ve made for the past two months?”

  “Don’t play head games with me. I’m not falling for it.”

  He shrugged.

  “You’re turning into some kind of stalker. You need to just leave me alone, but thanks for the confession too. I’ll use it against you in court. Count on it.”

  Keith smirked. “I’ll do whatever I like, thank you very much. And get away with it too. Don’t you love how the judge feels so sorry for me being shit on by a bitch like you? I have them all believing you’re the one who abandoned me.” The smirk turned into an all-out laugh. “The way I see it, I win either way. I’ll either get you back, or if I play my cards right, I might even get some alimony from you. Now wouldn’t that be a hoot?”

  “I somehow doubt that a man with your income and skills is going to get alimony from me. You make more money than I do.”

  “Not if I quit my job. Maybe I’ll get fired and just start doing car restorations.
That would be fun.”

  “You practically make your own hours now. That’s just stupid, and so is any inkling that we’ll ever have something again. We are not getting back together. That will never happen.”

  Without looking her way, he pointed an accusing finger at her. “I don’t care what you say. I didn’t think there was anyone else, but you wouldn’t be so damn adamant about not reconciling if there wasn’t. Who is it?”

  “That’s ridiculous. I’m not like you. I never cheated on you. I don’t need anyone. I can make it just fine by myself—better in fact.” It made her nervous that he wouldn’t look at her. “You don’t even know what marriage is about. What do you care?” she answered sharply. Maybe praying mantises weren’t lucky after all. She looked to the sky. It was just getting dark. She prayed for a shooting star.

  “I’m taking you back.”

  “What? Back where?”

  “You never listen.” Keith slammed the steering wheel. “I tried to make it easy for you. I figured you’d come back when you cooled down. We’re not getting a divorce.”

  “Are you on something? You’re delusional. What is wrong with you? You’re already getting it all!”

  “There’s nothing wrong with me. You’re the problem. You don’t get it.” He licked his lips nervously. “I bought that log cabin you always talked about. I’m taking you there now.”

  “You always hated that idea. You leave my dreams out of your plans. What in the world makes you think I want to go anywhere with you? Take me home!” she demanded.

  “Aren’t you listening? I am taking you home. I’m taking you to our new home. It’ll work. You’ll see.”

  “I don’t want to be with you. I don’t want to be with anybody. I already have a home. Stop the damn car and let…me…out.” She lifted repeatedly on the door handle.

  “No,” he roared, the word vibrating through the car like a missile.

  Brooke choked on a quick intake of air.

  “Damn it, Brooke. Why do you always blow things out of proportion? You think everything is all about you?” He smacked the rearview mirror, sending her crystal horseshoe and lucky Indian beads flying. She slumped in the seat, trying to avoid the air assault.