by Zara Chase
“I’m on it.”
“On what?”
They all turned at the sound of Briana’s voice. Fergal had to quell the lustful thoughts inspired just by looking at her, all sleepy and gloriously rumpled, her lips still swollen from Harley’s kisses. He’d ignored Gus’s earlier jibe about the need to leave, mainly because he didn’t want to go anywhere but wasn’t ready to admit it. Damn it, she’d gotten to him, and he needed to be sure she was safe. Was he inventing dangers where none existed? He didn’t think so, but his judgment was impaired simply because Briana was perilously close to unlocking something inside him that he wasn’t sure ought to be released.
His frozen heart had been thawed by a redheaded siren with piercing green eyes, glorious freckles, and self-esteem issues. He ought to be terrified. He wasn’t. Fergal didn’t do commitment anymore, and yet the idea of a permanent relationship with Briana filled him with urgent longing. Not all women were as duplicitous as his former wife. Briana definitely wasn’t. He’d wised up over the past five years and had become a damned good judge of character.
Only problem was, he, Harley, and Gus were a team. If the three of them wanted Briana as a permanent presence in their lives, Fergal didn’t think that would be such a bad thing. Three of them ought to be able to keep her happy, surely? But what if they didn’t? Forget it, Stanton. It’s not in the script for you to settle down and be happy, like an average family man.
“Hey, babe,” Fergal said, moving in for a casual kiss. “How you feeling this morning?”
“Wonderful.” She stood on her toes to return his kiss, then turned to Gus and did the same thing with him. “Can’t remember the last time I slept so well.”
“No strained muscles or soreness?” Gus asked.
“Nope.” She bent to tickle Max’s ears and then scooped up one of the kittens before it dived headlong into the plaster tray. “Say, you don’t need to do the plastering. That’s something I can manage.”
Fergal sent her a smile designed to imply it was no big deal. “Have to do something to pass the time until the weather clears. The forecast is for rain all day. It won’t move through until late tonight.”
“I can think of a way to pass the time,” Gus said, grinning.
“Get your mind out the gutter, buddy,” Fergal replied.
Gus winked at Briana. “I like playing in the gutter and hanging out with you guys there.”
“Something smells good,” Briana said.
“Breakfast is served, ma’am.” Gus offered her a flourishing bow and ushered her to a seat at the counter.
Fergal washed his hands, and they all tucked in to Gus’s fluffy scrambled eggs, bacon, and fried potatoes.
“Wow.” Briana leaned back and patted her belly. “If you keep feeding me like this I’ll get even fatter.”
Fergal glowered at her. “Briana, what are you?” he asked.
She immediately lowered her eyes, blushing furiously. “Desirable, Master,” she said, addressing to the comment to her folded hands.
“Yes, you are. Now say it again like you mean it.”
“You’re asking too much of me, Sir. I know it isn’t true, so how can I mean it?”
“You think what we did to you last night, what Harley did to you this morning, is just a game for us?”
“Yes.” She shook her head. “No. Hell, I don’t know. You’re confusing me.”
Fergal sighed. “If you weren’t full of breakfast, I’d put you over my knee right now and spank some sense into you.”
“We could make her strip and stand in the corner,” Harley suggested.
“We could certainly do that.” Fergal rubbed his jaw, thinking about it. “In fact…Hello, we’ve got company.”
Fergal went to the window just in time to see a sheriff’s car pull up outside. “Get out of sight, Gus,” he said urgently. “Remember, babe. There are just the two of us here with you. I don’t want anyone to know about Gus.”
“Oh, all right. But it’s only the sheriff.”
“Does he make a habit of calling on you?”
“Well, no but—”
Harley whisked the breakfast plates into the sink. Fergal knew she’d have to invite the sheriff in, and he just might be astute enough to notice four place settings.
“Good thinking,” he said to Harley.
Harley grinned, still obviously on a high after his inventive method of waking Briana up. “I’m the brains of this operation, remember.”
Fergal rolled his eyes. “Like I could forget.”
Briana opened the door before the sheriff could knock. “Hey, Sheriff,” she said. “What brings you all the way out here in such foul weather?”
“Mind if I come in for a moment, Briana?”
“Of course not.”
She opened the door wider, and a large man with a gut that hung over his belt stepped into the room, the radio on his vest spitting static. He removed his hat to reveal a baldpate and shook rain from his headgear.
“Is that fresh coffee I smell? Ah, you have company, I see,” he said, eyeing Fergal and Harley with open interest.
Like you didn’t know.
“The name’s Stanton,” Fergal said, not offering the lawman his hand. “Something we can do for you?”
“You staying here for long?”
“Any reason why that’s any of your concern?”
“I just like to know who’s hanging out in my patch, is all. Goes with the job.”
Right, and who told you we were here? “Well, we haven’t decided yet, Sheriff, but when we do, you’ll be the first to know.”
Briana laced a mug of coffee with cream and two sugars and handed it to the sheriff.
“Thanks, honey.” He glanced around the room. “Quite a job you’ve set yourself here.”
“Yes, it’s long overdue but will be worth it.”
“Just a friendly word of advice,” the sheriff said when they’d exhausted the subject of the weather and Fergal had made it plain they weren’t going to leave him alone with Briana. “I hear tell that you wanted to hire in labor and pay cash in hand.” He shook his head, causing his jowls to wobble. “Wouldn’t recommend it if you’re trying to turn the lodge into a commercial venture. The IRS has long arms and longer memories.”
“I’m curious. Under what circumstances would you recommend it, Sheriff?” Harley asked.
“Officially, none. Unofficially, if someone just wants a bit of work done on their own home, well…it’s a different story.”
“So that wouldn’t be against the law, but Briana hiring on an ad-hoc basis would?”
“That’s not what I said, young fella. In fact, I didn’t catch your name.”
Harley folded his arms across his chest. “I didn’t give it.”
“I hope you ain’t paying these dudes to help you out, Briana.”
“No, I’m not doing that.” She smiled at the sheriff. “It would be against the law.”
The sheriff clearly knew when he’d met his match. He downed his coffee, picked up his hat, and stood up. “Well, I’d best be getting along. Criminals to catch, paperwork to keep on top of.” He stood with his hand on the door, glaring at Harley and Fergal in a futile attempt to intimidate them. Fergal assumed he’d run the plate on their truck to try and find out more about them. Good luck with that. It would just lead him back to their skiing business in Columbia Falls. “Thanks for the coffee, Briana, and just remember what I said.”
“What was that all about?” Gus asked, emerging from the bedroom corridor.
“A fishing expedition,” Harley replied. “Someone told him we were here and to find out what we wanted and how long we planned to stay.”
Fergal nodded. “I agree. Who in Fort Peck has that sort of influence over the sheriff, darlin’?”
Briana looked blank. “I have absolutely no idea. Pearson’s been sheriff here for years. He’s harmless enough. Used to come out here a lot and chat with Gran. I’ve never heard anything about him being corrupt.”
“If it was common knowledge that he took backhanders or reelection funds from anyone, something would have to be done about it,” Fergal replied. “Best get off to town, Gus, and deal with those errands I set you.”
“I’m on my way,” he replied, picking up the keys to their truck and heading for the door. “Play nice without me, children.”
* * * *
“I’ll help you with the plastering,” Briana told Fergal.
“Okay, darlin’. Harley’s got some online stuff to do, so you and I can handle the manual stuff.”
They worked side by side, while Harley occupied the kitchen counter with his laptop, his fingers flying across the keys as he muttered to himself and jotted down notes.
“Harley was telling me about his childhood and how you helped him out,” Briana said to Fergal as they worked side by side. “What about your family? Are they still in Philly?”
“My dad passed a couple of years back, and Mom remarried.” Fergal curled his lip. “She remarried so fast that it made me wonder…Well, anyway, she’s in Florida with her new husband. I don’t see much of her.”
“Do you have siblings?”
“Nope. It’s just me and, from what I’ve seen of other family relationships,” he said, nodding toward Harley but probably thinking about Gus and his sister, “I don’t think I missed out.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I always wished there was someone else around, close to my age.”
“Because you didn’t have parents,” Fergal said, his dark eyes softening as they regarded her. “Of course you’d feel that way.”
They worked on in companionable silence for some time. Max wandered in and out to check on progress, looking hopefully toward the kitchen, presumably in the expectation of finding Gus there. The kittens had been locked in a bedroom to keep them away from the wet plaster, and the only sound in the room was the scraping of pallet knives and Harley’s fingers on his keyboard. Occasionally he cursed, and once or twice he let out a triumphant ah-hah. Fergal ignored him, presumably because he knew he’d report his findings when he was good and ready.
Briana burned to know what he was looking for, but Fergal hadn’t seen fit to enlighten her, which was infuriating. He might think he could turn her into an obedient sex slave in the bedroom—hell, there was no think about it—but when it came to her livelihood, it was a different matter. She would speak her mind and express her opinions, no question about it.
Fergal’s cell phone rang. He put down his plaster tray and moved aside to answer it.
“Hey, Raoul,” she heard him say. “What you got for me? Yeah, Gus has just gone to pick it up.” He listened. “Not yet, Harley’s on it now. I’ll let you know if I need anything else.”
He cut the connection, but before Briana could ask what that was all about, they heard the truck pull up outside. Gus ran in, looking bedraggled, a heap of grocery store bags and a UPS parcel bundled in his hands.
“I have information,” he said.
Harley looked up from his keyboard. “So do I.”
Chapter Thirteen
“It’s lunchtime,” Fergal said. “Babe, if you knock some sandwiches together, we need to take care of a few jobs outside. Then we’ll talk.”
Briana frowned. “What’s so urgent outside in this weather?”
“Won’t be long.” Fergal ripped open the UPS parcel and the array of gizmos and electronic devises he’d asked Raoul to supply spilled from it. Under the protection of the overhang porch, the three of them set up a near-invisible wireless camera focused on the door to the lodge. Then they set up another in the store where they’d placed the roof timbers.
“Okay,” Fergal said. “Let’s get back inside, and Harley can do whatever he has to do to make sure the feed comes through to his laptop.”
“It works just fine,” Harley said a short time later.
Briana slapped a platter of sandwiches on the counter, clearly pissed with them for not telling her what was going on. The guys made the odd observation as they consumed their lunch, but Briana said nothing at all.
When they were finished, she stacked the dishwasher while Harley brought in logs and got the fire going.
“Now we can talk,” Fergal said, pulling her down on the settee beside him. The fire was already blazing up the chimney, warding off the damp and chill brought on by the rain that still pounded down. “You go first, Gus. What did you discover in Fort Peck?”
“Plenty. Seth and Maurice say hi, by the way,” he told Briana.
“You went to speak with those two?” She dealt him a quizzical look. “Why, for goodness sake?”
“They told your dad you needed help,” Fergal said, placing a hand on her thigh and leaving it there because…well, because it felt like a natural thing to do. “I figured there had to be a reason for that.”
“Yes, they’re interfering old duffers with more time on their hands than they know what to do with.” Briana rolled her eyes. “And men accuse women of being gossips.”
“They’re not quite so into their dotage as you think, hon,” Gus replied. “They see everything that goes on and know when something’s not right.”
She inhaled sharply. “What do you mean?”
“They spoke with your grandmother before she passed. That guy who wanted to buy this place wasn’t what he appeared to be, according to Seth and Maurice.”
“How would they know?”
“They saw him in town several times.”
“Yes, with the real estate agent.” The kittens had been released from the bedroom, and one of them jumped onto Briana’s lap. She absently stroked his ears. “If he wanted to buy a property, he would be.”
“No, darlin’. He wasn’t seen with the real estate guy.” Gus paused to extract the other kitten from the log basket. “He was with Greg Stone’s old man.”
Fergal jerked upright. “There’s a connection between the two?”
Gus shrugged. “Apparently.”
“Did Seth and Maurice get his name?” Fergal asked.
“Well, they weren’t exactly introduced, but when they found out he was sniffing around this place they asked Briana’s gran. Seems his name’s Seagrove and—”
“And he’s one of Stone’s clients,” Harley finished for him. “I found him in their client base but haven’t gotten around to checking him out yet.”
“Make it your next job,” Fergal said. “There has to be a connection.”
“How did you get sight of Mr. Stone’s client base?” Briana asked Harley.
He sent her a lazy smile. “I told you, hon. I’m a genius.”
“And modest, too.” Briana shook her head. “Computer hacking was illegal, last time I checked.”
Harley winked at her. “Only if you get caught.”
Fergal could tell she was trying hard to disapprove but convinced no one, including herself, most likely. “The end justifies the means, darlin’,” he said. “We now know there’s a connection between the guy who’s so concerned about you that he can’t leave you alone for five minutes and the one who wants to buy this place.” Fergal paused. “You’d think he might have mentioned it.”
“Yes, it does seem odd,” she conceded. “But still—”
“Anything else to tell us, Gus?” Fergal asked.
“I showed the guys the picture Harley took on his phone of Greg and mystery man. They thought he looked familiar but couldn’t see enough of his face to be sure.”
“Fuck,” Fergal said quietly.
“Ah, but fear not. I actually saw the guy getting into a beaten up truck as I drove out of town. At least I’m pretty sure it was him.”
Fergal slapped his shoulder. “Tell me you caught sight of the tag.”
Gus pulled a disgruntled expression. “What do you take me for, an amateur?” He pulled a notebook from his pocket and reeled off the number.
“I’m on it,” Harley said, hitting his computer keyboard at speed.
“We don’t know that he has anything to do with Greg’s da
d,” Briana pointed out. “Or that Greg’s dad has anything to do with wanting this place.”
“We don’t actually know the president’s a democrat,” Gus replied, “but the evidence is fairly compelling. Besides, this isn’t a court of law, and my gut tells me we’re onto something.”
“The truck’s registered to a Kyle Bruce,” Harley said an impressively short time later. “An address is Winter Vale.”
“It’s a trailer park just outside of town,” Briana said.
“The guy’s got a rap sheet. Served two years for petty larceny.”
“Has he indeed.” Fergal flexed his jaw. “Now why would a fine upstanding member of the local community be deep in conversation with an ex-con?”
“Not quite so upstanding,” Harley replied. “I ran that check on Stone’s company earlier. They’re deeply in the mire, financially speaking. They lost a couple of big accounts recently, which left them stretched. Stone senior’s home is now mortgaged up to the hilt, they’ve exceeded their business overdraft, and the bank’s getting antsy.”
Briana looked bewildered. “What’s going on? I thought Greg’s dad was wealthy.”
“That’s probably what he wants people to think,” Gus replied. “Appearances are everything to people who like to think they’re a big fish in a small pond. Still an’ all, a lot of businesses took a pounding when the economy tanked. Seems his is one of them.”
“Surprised the bank extended more credit,” Harley remarked.
“I have a feeling that Stone senior has a lot of local people in his back pocket, including the sheriff,” Fergal remarked.
Briana’s eyes widened. “You think he’s responsible for the sheriff visit today?”
“I’m not sure what to think, but I know where to start looking.” Fergal removed his hand from Briana’s thigh, where his fingers had spent the last quarter of an hour drawing intricate patterns all over it. “Shall we go and pay Kyle Bruce a friendly visit in his trailer, see what he has to say for himself, Harley?”