Hard as Stone (Passion in Paradise: The Men of the McKinnnon Sisters)

by Sarah O'Rourke

  “If you don’t want to see Honor’s head spin around like that scene in The Exorcist, you’ll keep that opinion to yourself,” Harmony warned. “She doesn’t see it the way you do, and I don’t know if she ever will, Jake. Seriously, those kind of comments will get your ass banned around here.”

  Jake’s lips twitched. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Rolling her eyes, she turned toward the dining room again. “Everybody here?” she asked.

  “Some of the boys are still out by the barn, but I think they were wandering this way earlier,” Jake replied as he followed Harmony into the dining room.

  Faith smiled from the table. “There you are. We wondered if you’d fallen asleep, too.”

  “Heaven okay?” Honor questioned from her position at the head of the long oval table.

  “She’s fine and out like a light,” Harmony said, moving to the sideboard and pouring a cup of coffee. “I think the day caught up with her. She never moved once Jake slid her in bed.”

  “I think I envy the kid’s ability to sleep through anything,” Patience noted enviously. “Those were the days.”

  “Well, maybe once we have this discussion, everyone can get some rest,” Honor said, wrinkling her nose as she sipped her hot tea. “Good Lord, Patience, how is it possible that you were born into this family and cannot make a single cup of drinkable tea.”

  Exchanging an uneasy look with Faith, Patience shrugged. “Waste not, want not, isn’t that what you always say, sis? I can add a little whiskey to it, if you like,” she said with a wink. “That’d give it some flavor.”

  Holding the cup against her chest, Honor shook her head. “It’s fine the way it is,” she said quickly, shooting her sister a small smile before shifting her attention to where Jake stood behind Harmony’s chair. “Jake, would you mind wrangling the men? Let’s say what’s got to be said so that we can all put a period on this day.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Jake nodded, bending to brush a kiss against Harmony’s temple. “Be right back,” he murmured against her warm skin before she jerked her head away.

  Faith waited until Jake left the room before turning wide eyes on Harmony. “So…. are you going to forgive him?” she asked, jerking her head toward the doorway where Jake had disappeared.

  “I don’t know. I told him I needed time, but he just won’t go away,” Harmony said, her teeth clenched. “Honor, you’re going to have to evict him for me to get any peace,” she said, directing her remark at the youngest sister. “I bet he’d listen to you.”

  Honor shifted in her seat, refusing to meet Harmony’s eyes. “We’ll see,” she murmured.

  “Well, he’s built like a brick shithouse, not hard on the eyes, and carries a big gun,” Patience noted, wriggling her eyebrows. “But, I’d still let his ass twist in the wind for a while after the shit stunt he pulled. He might have done it with the best of intentions, but it was still a crap play to make.”

  Harmony huffed, nodding her head at Patience. “See…this is what I’m saying.”

  “You say the boy’s got nine inches on him, honey?” Aunt Orla asked, speaking for the first time from the other end of the table. “I could forgive a whole lot of sins for nine inches worth of lovin’, child.”

  “Aunt Orla!” Honor and Harmony yelled in unison as Faith and Patience cackled.

  “What?” the elderly aunt asked nonchalantly, taking a sip from her own tea cup. “I could!”

  Turning to Patience, Harmony glared at her sister. “Do you have to tell everything you know?”

  “What?” Patience shrugged. “So, I might envy you your boyfriend’s dingaling. Sue me.”

  “Hellllooooo! Anybody home?” they all heard a bright, cheerful voice call from the living room.

  “Ohhhh! Mags is here!” Patience clapped, spinning in her seat to look out the door.

  Sighing, Honor pointed at her excited sister. “Don’t wind her up, Patience,” she ordered. “Tonight is going to be a long enough evening as it is without you two tag-teaming Abel.” Turning her head toward the doorway, she called, “We’re in the dining room, Maggie!”

  “So, I hear Tanner Dickhead Suarez has managed to completely ruin Tequila Tuesday for us all,” Margaret Winstead announced as she reached the entrance to the dining room. “For that alone, I’m willing to help you girls hunt him down and separate him from the tiny piece of manhood he claims as his swinging dick!” she announced in lieu of greeting. Standing in the doorway clad in a vintage white lace sleeveless Dolce & Gabbana shirt, Maggie glared at the room at large, one hand perched on a rounded hip. “This is completely unacceptable! I depend on my Tequila Tuesdays with Patience. I work for Abel Turner, and she, of all people, understands my need to drink where that man is concerned!” she huffed, marching forward on her sleek black Leon Max pumps to slap a teal-colored file on the scarred farmer’s table where the rest of the women sat. Turning her startling green eyes on Harmony, her lips tightened. “That bastard,” she snarled, cataloguing the oldest McKinnon daughter’s injuries with a keen glance. “Harmony, your face, honey!”

  “I’m okay, Mags,” Harmony assured the other woman, rising from her chair to offer Maggie a hug. “Really, it’s not as bad as it looks,” she added as the stunning redhead wrapped her arms around her and squeezed. “I’m fine.”

  “Have you told that to the garish purple bruises all over your jaw?” the other woman snapped, already reaching for her gold Hermes bag and rifling through it. “Here,” she said, pulling out a gold tube. “This will help. It’s a concealer from Clinique that works wonders,” she explained, pressing it into Harmony’s palm. “Abel told me that the cowardly freak worked you over, but he didn’t mention this,” she growled, gesturing at Harmony’s face before turning and offering Honor a quick hug.

  Harmony chuckled, trying to give the makeup back to her friend. “Maggie, I don’t need this.”

  “Trust me, sweets, you do,” Maggie replied with a meaningful look at Harmony. “Now, sit down,” she nodded to the chair behind her, “Is there a plan yet?” she asked, tossing her long red hair over one shoulder as she looked around at the women. “Tell me, there’s a plan. It looked like there was a lynch mob forming out by the barn when I arrived, and I’m happy to join it.”

  “Well…” Harmony began as they heard the front door open and the heavy footfalls of the men coming back inside the house.

  “Don’t you ‘well’ me,” Maggie retorted as she turned and traded a hard look with Patience. “Abel did not tell me what Harmony looked like when he called. And since he didn’t, you should have. I’d have been here sooner if I’d known.”

  “Mags,” Harmony replied, reaching for the angry redhead’s hand. “Honestly, I’m okay.”

  “No, Harmony,” she denied firmly, her emerald eyes flashing again as she stared at the other woman. “You are not okay. Those bruises…so not okay.” Turning to look at a pale Honor, she shook her head again. “The way Honor looks doesn’t look okay, either. So, to sum up,” she continued, her voice lifting imperiously. “None of this is okay.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Jake agreed, walking back into the room as the other men followed.

  Harmony watched as Margaret was struck silent, and for anyone that knew Maggie, it was a memorable moment. The wealthy woman was very rarely without something to say, but it seemed that Jake’s appearance was enough to render her momentarily stunned.

  Rising, Honor gestured all the men into the room. “Margaret, you already know most everybody, but this is Jacob Stone.”

  Lifting her hand, Maggie accepted the hand Jacob extended toward her. “I’ve heard all about you.” She nodded. “Abel said that a smokin’ hot broody guy had hitched his cart to Harmony’s wagon. Usually his descriptions aren’t so accurate. I am impressed.”

  “I didn’t say that,” Abel yelped indignantly, pulling out the chair beside Patience.

  “You’re right. You referred to him as a smoldering hot bag of sexiness,” Maggie retorted, ju
st to needle him. “Honestly, I’m beginning to think his boat floats in a whole other ocean,” she added, wriggling her well-maintained eyebrows at Patience and winking.

  “That would explain so much,” Patience agreed, turning her head to look Abel over.

  “I beg your pardon,” Abel growled, glaring at each woman. “What I said was that all the girls seemed to think…” He gestured with one hand. “All that you said,” he told Maggie uncomfortably.

  “Why, Abel,” Jake murmured, pressing his free hand to his heart as he bit back a grin, “I’m honored that you think of me that way, but I like girls, man.”

  “Very funny. Asshole,” Abel muttered under his breath.

  Slowly turning her head to look at Harmony again, Maggie whispered, “Jokes aside, Harmony, I just have to say wow. Holy hot guy, Batgirl.”

  “It’s a pleasure, Ma’am.” Jacob grinned, releasing her hand. “You can just call me Jake.”

  “That’s okay. I think I’ll stick with calling you Broody Hot Guy,” Maggie returned, winking at him. “It’s a much better fit.”

  Honor cleared her throat as she pressed a hand to her aching head. “Mags, you already know Zeke and Cain. This,” she said, reaching a hand out to lightly touch the well-muscled forearm of the exceedingly well-built sandy haired man beside her, “is our cousin, Slade Cansler. And that,” she continued, gesturing to the extremely tall, lumbering man walking through the door, “is Zachariah Monroe. Most everybody calls him…”

  “Asshat!” Margaret barked, her curvy body stiffening with anger as she glared at Zeke’s brother.

  “Well, no. Most everyone calls him Ice,” Honor murmured, watching as both Maggie’s hands dropped to her hips and she skewered Ice with a look. “I take it you’ve met?” she asked weakly.

  “It’s the crazy redhead from the road,” Ice growled, looking over at his brother. “The one that couldn’t drive for shit.”

  Maggie stared at the man, arms akimbo as her cheeks turned pink. “Can’t drive? I drive just fine, you redneck reject from Hell! At least until some hillbilly runs me off the road, I do. And by the way, you owe me over a grand for the clothes you ruined this afternoon, Mountain Man!”

  Abel turned horrified eyes to Ice. “Wait! You’re the Mountain Man? You’re the guy that splashed mud all over Maggie’s outfit this afternoon?” he asked, remembering Margaret’s angry shrieks when he’d called her this afternoon and asked her to bring Harmony’s file to the house.

  “What he is is a shoe massacring, one of a kind Prada skirt murdering son of a bitch!” Maggie screeched.

  For his part, Ice merely stood against the wall, smirking at Margaret. “Darlin’, if you hadn’t been driving like Grandma Moses around Dead Man’s Curve, none of it would have happened. Hell, you pulled off at the bend! Who the hell does that?”

  “I thought I had a flat tire,” she argued irately. “That doesn’t excuse flying around me in that rust bucket you were driving and splashing mud all over my outfit! That was haute couture, you animal! My shoes alone were a work of art!” she moaned, looking at Patience. “I was wearing my jewel-encrusted sling backs, Patience. The ones with the four inch heel! They’re ruined.”

  “The Manolos?” Patience breathed, her face going slack as she pressed a hand against her chest. Turning wide eyes on Ice, she whispered, “How could you, Ice?”

  “The bastard got my one-of-a-kind pink chiffon Prada skirt, too,” Maggie accused, her voice shrill. “I’m serious,” she hissed when Ice began to laugh and turned sharply toward the Sheriff. “I want that… that thing arrested! It’s a clear case of malicious destruction of personal property, Zeke!”

  “Man, stop laughing,” Abel recommended out the side of his mouth as he turned to look at Ice over his shoulder. “She’s serious as a heart attack. You do not fuck with Mags’ clothing and live to tell the tale. I once accidently got ink on the sleeve of her Stella McCartney silk blouse, and she stabbed me with a letter opener. Repeatedly! She’s rich and can afford to hire people that can make bodies disappear, if you know what I mean. And you got her shoes! No one fucks with her wardrobe, but especially not the shoes. Never the shoes,” he whispered, shaking his head.

  Ice stared at the other woman for a moment, then turned back to Abel. “If she’s so loaded, what’s she doing working for you?”

  “I like to work, and I’m good at my job, that’s why, jackass! Plus, how else would I know all the gossip if I didn’t work for Abel? In case you didn’t know it, knowledge is power,” Maggie retorted before Abel could open his mouth. “That aside, my money is none of your business. My shoes are the topic of discussion here, you sorry excuse for a human being!”

  “Now, Maggie, sweetie,” Harmony murmured, touching the other woman’s stiff shoulder. “I’m sure it was an accident. You’re a rich woman; I know you can afford to replace your things,” she pointed out gently, trying to soothe the seething woman. “Think about how much you’ll enjoy a buying trip to New York or Chicago.”

  “Jesus, woman. It was a pair of shoes and a skirt. I’ll be happy to carry you down to Walmart and replace what I accidently ruined,” Ice drawled, shrugging his wide shoulders. “What the hell is the big deal? So, I didn’t see the mud puddle when I backed up to check on you. It was a legitimate mistake. It’s not the end of the fuckin’ world.”

  The entire room drew in an audible breath and froze as Maggie’s face turned purple with rage. “Not the end of the world,” she repeated faintly as both Abel and Cain rose from the table and moved closer to Mags. “Not the end of the world, he says,” she echoed incredulously, her green eyes dilating. “And you’ll take me to Walmart? Do I look like I am the type of woman that purchases my clothing at the local superstore,” she shouted, holding her arms out at her sides. “This is Dolce & Gabbana, you moron! Oh, my God! You don’t even have a clue who that is, do you? Let me ask you this. Would you walk into the Sistine chapel and blow a spitball at Michelangelo’s work? Would you spit on a Picasso canvas? Would you walk into the Louvre and throw coffee in the Mona Lisa’s face? No! You wouldn’t. I would hope you would handle them with the reverence they deserve because they are priceless,” she screeched. “Those shoes and that skirt were my priceless works of ART and you savaged them!!!!” she ended on a roar. “Either arrest him or put me in handcuffs, Sheriff, because I swear I’m going to kill that designer destroying, Manolo murdering, redneck ruffian!”

  “Now, Maggie,” Zeke began in a placating voice, “I’m sure this is all a misunderstanding.”

  “Jesus, Twiggy. Get a grip,” Ice snorted, stuffing his hands in his jeans pockets as he leaned insolently against the wall, his lips twisting sardonically. “It’s a pair of sparkly shoes and a skirt that was too short for you anyway, for Christ sake. I mean, I thought you looked crazy hot in the get-up, but now you’re lookin’ just plain crazy.”

  Stepping between Zach and Maggie when the woman would have lunged across the room for his throat, Honor spoke quickly. “He’s family, Maggie,” she defended with a quelling look at Ice. “As much as he may deserve it, we can’t kill family in cold blood.”

  “Family?” Maggie echoed dumbly, shifting her eyes to an amused-looking Slade and frowning before settling her attention on a markedly unconcerned Ice. “Are we talkin’ blood relations or is he more of a step-cousin you’d barely miss?”

  “Well, it’s more of a family by association kind of thing. Like you are, honey.” Honor smiled weakly, her aching head once again making her wince. “Zachariah, or Ice as everybody calls him, is Zeke’s brother. And we need his help.”

  “Zeke’s brother,” she repeated, her eyes drifting to the man that had ruined some of her favorite clothing. “Wait. He’s the sniper, isn’t he? The retired Green Beret?”

  Honor nodded. “That’s right.”

  Pressing her lips together, Maggie slowly, but reluctantly, nodded. “Fine, I’ll let him live. For now. But after this is over, I am reserving my right to collect my pound of flesh from him. I loved
those shoes.” Smoothing her dress over her hips, she turned her attention back to Abel. “You can sit down. You won’t have to defend me in a court of law… at least not yet. Evidently, you need the Neanderthal.”

  “Let’s move on,” Abel suggested, relief evident in his voice. “Did you bring Harmony’s file, Maggie?” he asked calmly, moving back to his chair as Cain did the same.

  “Of course I brought the file, Abel,” Maggie snapped waspishly. “I’m excellent at my job, and the stupid paperwork is the reason you dragged me here.”

  “And here I thought you’d be more of a pretty ornament to decorate his office. Wonders never cease,” Ice drawled, his eyes lingering on Maggie’s face as he moved toward the table. “Looks are deceiving, aren’t they?”

  “If the mountain man continues to speak, I cannot guarantee his continued safety or my reactions to his very special brand of asshole speak,” she warned Zeke, pinning him with her narrowed eyes.

  “Ice, shut it,” Zeke ordered his brother with a hard look.

  “Yes, please do,” Honor added, shaking her head at Ice. “Let’s get on with this.”

  “Are family meetings always like this?” Jake murmured against Harmony’s hair as his hand slipped around the nape of her neck. “Because, seriously, if it is, we need to get this shit on video. We could make a fortune.”

  “Shhh, be quiet. The key to surviving these meets is to not draw attention to yourself,” Harmony replied under her breath as Maggie leaned across the table for the folder and flipped it open. Pulling out the documents inside, she pushed them toward Abel.

  “Abel, you can look, but everything is in order. All the documents are there,” Maggie noted as Abel bent his head to examine the paperwork. Looking at Harmony, she continued, “Legally, you and Heaven are covered where Tanner is concerned, Harmony. Abel said that the jerk threatened you this afternoon with taking Heaven from you. Based on the documents that Zeke and Abel encouraged him to sign years ago, he has zero rights. He signed not only divorce papers, but a waiver of paternity as well. So, in a court of law, he would have no standing. He might claim coercion, but it’s not likely.”