Whiskey River Runaway (Whiskey River Series Book 2)

by Justine Davis

  He took a swallow from the mug. Blinked. Usually his sister went for a milder brew, but this stuff would strip paint.

  “Just drink it,” she said before he could comment. “I want you awake enough to tell me what the heck is going on.”

  He took another swallow, thinking if this didn’t wake up his brain he was in trouble. He took a third for good measure, then set down the mug. A bit warily, half-afraid the stuff was going to eat through the ceramic and perhaps the table.

  “Ready?” Zee asked, her tone saying he’d better be.

  “Is she. . .messing up?”

  “Hardly. She showed up two seconds after I turned on the lights. I’d swear she’d been waiting outside. She’s working like a woman driven. She’s going to do that two weeks’ worth of work in three days at this rate.” Zee’s gaze narrowed as she looked at him. “And she’s got the shakes.”

  “I don’t think she had breakfast. And I know she didn’t have dinner.”

  “Why? I thought you were feeding her as part of the deal?”

  “I. . .yes.” He rubbed a hand over his eyes. Felt a shudder ripple through him. And suddenly the inquisitor was gone and his loving sister was crouching beside him. Her voice was gentle now, coaxing.

  “What is it, True?”

  He gave in, for he knew she would be relentless now. Gentle, but relentless. “She. . .cried. Half the night. Locked up in her room.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know.” He glanced at her. “I know, I’m a stupid man, I should know what set her off.”

  “You’ve only known her two days. You’re not a mind reader.”

  “Not what you used to say.”

  “Stop it, True. You were married to Amanda, and you’d loved her for years. That’s different, you—” She stopped suddenly. Stared at him. “She cried half the night,” she said slowly.

  He stared into the mug of dark, potent coffee. Contemplated taking another swig. Decided against it. Stood up. Meant to leave. But suddenly Zee’s arms were around him in a ferocious hug.

  “It must have been like a. . .a flashback. I’m sorry, True. So sorry.”

  He let her. She was probably the only one who really understood, because she’d been there for him every step of the way as the vibrant, lively woman who had loved him and he had loved since they were fifteen slipped away from him. It had been years, and yet sometimes it felt like yesterday.

  And it helped. Somehow it helped, and the tight knot in his throat that had made him decide against that last swig eased. And finally he hugged her back.

  “You have to know,” she said, her voice tight, “it’s not your fault you couldn’t fix her.”

  He drew back slightly. Stared at this woman who had once been the bane of his teenage existence, but was now one of the wisest people he knew. He had never realized she knew how he’d felt.

  Zee looked up at him, held his gaze. “She’s the one thing you weren’t able to fix. You’ve been trying to make up for it ever since by fixing everything you can for everyone else.”

  “I. . .”

  His voice trailed off because he couldn’t think of a thing to say to this woman who had just turned a completely different light on the last five years of his life. He’d never made that connection before, that he was a fixer because he hadn’t been able to fix Amanda.

  “You know I’m right.”

  He let out a long, slow breath. Couldn’t deny it. Hugged her again, gently this time. “Thanks, Sis,” he whispered.

  “I love you.”

  “I know. Sometimes too much.”

  “No such thing.”

  When he finally headed out to his truck, he was feeling better. Drained, but better.

  Chapter Eleven

  She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but she’d gone to refill her mug with the extra strong coffee Zee had made this morning. She’d needed the jolt, and Zee had told her to help herself. And she had just happened to be passing by the door that was still ajar, the door that she only now realized was a direct connection between the two halves of what had once been their family home.

  She’s the one thing you weren’t able to fix. You’ve been trying to make up for it ever since by fixing everything you can for everyone else.

  Hope froze. The words had been spoken so gently, with such love, it almost took her breath away. And then the love itself had been spoken.

  I love you.

  I know. Sometimes too much.

  No such thing.

  She heard Zee’s footsteps as she came back toward the door. Hope moved quickly back toward the office and her work table, wiping at eyes that had teared up at the sheer love expressed between this brother and sister, something she had never known. She felt a little as if she had witnessed something miraculous, or sacred maybe, and it made her feel. . .unworthy was the only word she could think of. Her entire view of the brisk, efficient Zee Mahan had changed. She wasn’t just smart, quick and beautiful, she was capable of great love and gentle perceptiveness.

  The fresh tears stung. It surprised her that she had any left, after last night. But what she’d overheard had solidified her choice. She would finish this work, take the money she’d earned because she needed it, and then she would leave, taking herself and her problems away from this town and these people. They’d already had enough tragedy in their lives, they didn’t need her garbage spilling over onto them.

  She dug into the next pile with determination. It was a few minutes before Zee came back to the office, and Hope wondered if perhaps she’d had to regain her own composure. But when she did come back she had not just her coffee mug but a plate that held two slices of toast spread generously with peanut butter going about the process of melting on the crisp, warm bread.

  It smelled heavenly.

  “Eat,” Zee ordered. “It’s not fancy but it will keep you going.” Hope looked from the plate to the woman who put it down on her table. Zee shrugged. “I can’t concentrate with your stomach growling.”

  Hope ate, and her stomach calmed. She had to admit, with the food she was better able to concentrate. She had made a nice dent in the box of papers, and thought she would have them all sorted soon. Then she could start scanning them. And be closer to collecting her earnings and hitting the road.

  The thought didn’t cheer her much.

  “Here.”

  Zee was holding out an envelope now. Hope wiped her hands free of the peanut butter that had escaped before taking it.

  “What’s this?” she asked.

  “True said to give you an advance.”

  She blinked. Opened the envelope. There was a small stack of twenty-dollar bills inside. Something turned over in her chest as she looked up at Zee.

  “He said to give me this?”

  Zee nodded, watching her assessingly. “He said you needed to buy some things, clothes and such.”

  “I—” She broke off, not knowing what to say.

  “And he seems to think you won’t just take it and run.”

  Hope drew herself up. “I’ve done things I’m not proud of, but I would never steal from someone helping me out.”

  “Good to know,” Zee said, and the woman’s smile made Hope feel as if she’d passed some sort of test. Maybe she had.

  After 9AM Zee began making phone calls, apparently asking for prices on a long list of materials; Hope saw the estimate form was filled out in True’s bold hand. She wondered what this fix-it job was.

  . . .fixing everything you can for everyone else.

  She gave a sharp shake of her head and kept sorting. But it was getting slower the further down she got in the box; apparently the realization that the papers needed to be labeled had been a late arrival. The papers she was dealing with now were from over four years ago.

  “You’re frowning,” Zee said.

  Hope almost jumped, she hadn’t even heard her get up, let alone come to stand at her shoulder.

  “I. . .yes. No labels on these.”

  Zee looke
d at the papers she held. Nodded. “Those are from when it was just True, before I started helping. He had it all in his head and knew with a glance what was what, so he didn’t need to identify each one. And there weren’t as many, when he was starting out.”

  “But there are now.”

  She nodded. “He’s as busy as he wants to be. Word got around quick that he’s good, reliable, and knows a little bit about everything and a lot about some things. Although Whiskey River folks already knew that.”

  “He’s carved out an interesting niche for himself. And you.”

  Zee was looking at her steadily. “He never intended this to be his career. He was going to be an architect.”

  And he gave that up to come home and take care of his little sister. “I’ll bet he would have been a good one.”

  “Yes. He would have.” Zee let out a sigh, and for a moment something darker, something sad, flickered in her eyes. “It’s lucky for me he truly loves what he does, or I’d feel horribly guilty.”

  Hope was surprised at the admission. “I can understand that.” Guilt was something she understood all too well. “Does he. . .I mean is there enough new work here in Whiskey River to keep him busy long term?”

  Zee looked surprised. “I got the idea you weren’t much on long term thinking.”

  Hope’s mouth twisted ruefully. “Not unless long term is next week.” Because there’s no point. It would all have to change anyway.

  Zee didn’t respond to that, but did answer her original question. “Like I said, word gets around. People recommend him, and his job radius has expanded. He did a job over in Fredericksburg a couple of months ago, and when he started out he did one all the way up in Waco. Doubt he’ll do that again, though, it was a big, complex thing and he didn’t like being that far away that long. He only did it because back then he wanted to be busy 24/7.”

  She could guess why. She could have told him avoidance only worked for so long, eventually you had to face the truth.

  Since Zee seemed unusually chatty, she risked another question. “So how long has he been doing this now?” Zee’s gaze narrowed, and Hope quickly gestured at the papers left in the bottom part of the box. “Just curious if there’s another box after this one.”

  “Oh.” Her expression cleared, and Hope felt a twinge of guilt, because she had the feeling Zee had thought—accurately—that she wanted to know how long it had been since he’d wanted to be busy around the clock. And asking this had seemed more tactful than flat out asking how long his wife had been dead, since it was really none of her business. “No, that’s it. My brother’s idea of filing. Which is weird, since he’s so meticulous about the work itself. He—”

  The doorbell cut her off, and Hope felt her heart give that little jump again. It couldn’t be True, she knew that. Which was an embarrassing admission in itself, that he could do that to her.

  She stayed where she was as Zee answered the door. Trying to regain the relative calm that had been startled out of her. She thought she’d gotten past flinching at every unexpected sound or person, but apparently not.

  Zee came back with a small box and a frown on her face. “You haven’t even opened it yet, and you’re frowning?”

  “Oh, I know what it is. The samples for Kelsey and Declan, for the wedding. I’m just trying to figure out how I can finish these calls and—” Zee interrupted herself with a roll of her eyes. “Hello, I have help now. You can take these out to Kelsey at the rescue.”

  “I can?”

  Zee walked over to her desk, opened a drawer and took out a set of keys. “Take my car. I’ll let her know you’re coming. Got a map program on your phone?”

  “Um. . .no phone.”

  Zee blinked, but recovered quickly. And thankfully didn’t ask why. Hope assumed it was because she thought she couldn’t afford it. And while that was the truth, there were other, more important reasons that kept her from being tethered to a device that knew—and could betray—too much. They’d almost gotten her once, before she’d decided she really had to run. She knew they had a couple of good hackers, and in case that was how they’d done it she’d dumped her phone and gotten on the next bus.

  “Okay, from the town square, just head out on the main road, with Booze at your back.” Hope smiled at that, wondering if everyone in Whiskey River referred to the statue that way. Since there were no tricky turns in the rest of the directions, she thought she could find the place all right.

  “What if she’s not there?”

  “Then she’ll be at the house. Which is the next driveway on the right.” Zee smiled then. “If I were you, I’d hope for that. It’s quite a place.”

  It wasn’t until she was on the road, heading out of town that Hope put together exactly what Zee had meant; the house was likely Deck’s place. And she couldn’t help but do exactly what Zee had said, and hope for that. Where would someone like Declan Bolt, world-famous author, live?

  But she knew it wasn’t to be when she saw the pretty blonde in a corral with a small black horse that looked a bit careworn even to her uninformed eyes. A man sat on the top rail of the fence, watching her as she ran her hands over the horse. Hope noticed the small house off to one side. It looked new, as did the barn and the lean-to that sheltered the hay Kelsey had mentioned the day she had met her.

  She drove in slowly; she didn’t know much about horses, but racing in across gravel that could spray didn’t seem like a good idea. As she came to a halt at what she hoped was a safe distance, the man turned his head and glanced at the car, waved—at the driver he no doubt assumed was Zee, she thought—but went back to watching the woman in the corral. Who was starting again at the horse’s head and working her way to his tail, rubbing, patting, and she could see now, talking. The animal seemed to be loving it.

  She got out with the small box in her hands. She walked toward the corral. Before she had taken three steps the little horse’s head came up sharply, turning in her direction. She didn’t know much about horses, but he also looked suddenly tense. And this was a rescue, perhaps he’d been abused? She stopped in her tracks, not sure what to do.

  She could hear a low murmuring, Kelsey still talking to the animal. After a moment the murmuring changed to an almost normal tone. “Take a few more steps, then stop.”

  Kelsey hadn’t looked her way, but obviously this was meant for her. She did as instructed. The horse watched her warily. As instructed she repeated the few steps and pause until she was almost at the fence. Then Kelsey spoke to the man sitting on the fence.

  “Got a little encouragement for him?”

  “Always,” he said.

  He swung his legs around and dropped to the ground. He walked over to her, one hand digging into the front pocket of his jeans. He pulled out a couple of sugar cubes.

  Hope couldn’t help smiling. “Bribery, huh?”

  “I’m not above it,” he said with a laugh as he handed them to her. “Here, I’ll take the box. What is it, anyway?”

  “Zee Mahan sent me over with it for Kelsey,” she explained as she surrendered the package and took the sugar. “It’s. . .samples or something.”

  He grimaced. “And I thought it was going to be so easy. Just put up a pavilion, add lots of flowers, some chairs, and done.”

  “Keep talking,” Kelsey called out, “he’s relaxing.”

  Hope wondered if it was because she was talking to someone the horse clearly already knew. And then it hit her, the way he’d said that he’d thought it was going to be easy.

  “You’re. . .Declan?”

  “And you must be Hope,” he said as he set the box on a stone next to the fence. “Kels mentioned you were helping True out.”

  She wasn’t sure quite how to act; the man was so famous even she couldn’t miss having heard about him. Around Christmas, it seemed the newest Sam Smith adventure had been front and center in every bookstore she’d seen. Not to mention in the hands of more people than she could count, and not all of them children. And those were j
ust the physical copies, who knew how many more electronic copies were out there in the ether?

  “I’m embarrassed I haven’t read your books.”

  He smiled. “Millions haven’t.”

  She managed a smile back. “But millions have.”

  To her surprise he was the one now who looked embarrassed. He gave a slow shake of his head as he said, “Never fails to amaze me.”

  She could see he meant it. It did amaze him. But the way he looked at Kelsey made her think what he’d found there just might amaze him even more. And right now he seemed concerned about nothing more than making sure the horse Kelsey was working with didn’t get upset.

  “Shadow just came in, so he’s still pretty nervous. The more people he meets who don’t hurt him, the better.”

  Hope’s breath caught. “So he has been abused?”

  “Yes. But that’s over now. Kelsey has him, and he’s safe.”

  There was something in the way he said those last words that made her think there was more than one layer to them. It had to be quite a story, how the famous kids’ author and the horse rescuer had ended up together.

  “Will he ever really feel safe again?” she asked, looking at the animal who was still watching her, but not with the tense awareness she’d noticed at first. Kelsey continued to murmur to him, still running her hands all over him.

  “Kels will see to it. She’s had lots of practice with skittish creatures.” She glanced at him then, and there was no mistaking the wry smile that curved his mouth. That he meant himself was unmistakable. “I get the feeling you know how that feels.”

  Startled, she tensed much as the horse had, realized the animal must have been readying himself to run, because that was what she wanted to do. And something she saw in this man’s eyes told her he knew that. Because he’d been there.

  “I owe my life to three people,” he said softly. “Kelsey. The cop who stood up for me, back when I was in hell. And True Mahan.”