The Trouble with Temptation

by Shiloh Walker

  It had taken Brannon McKay’s appearance in her room to snap her out of it.

  Even after that …

  She sighed and rested her head on the miserably uncomfortable seat and waited for J.P. to pull the truck out of the bay.

  Movies and books had amnesia wrong. Technically, she’d known that. She was a paramedic. She knew the basics, but knowing the basics from a theoretical standpoint and actually knowing it from firsthand experience were two different things.

  Man, did people get amnesia wrong.

  Those first few weeks after the coma had been the worst and once friends had started working with her, prodding at her buried memories, bits and pieces had started coming back.

  But she felt different.

  It was like she was sometimes a stranger in her own skin.

  She couldn’t remember things as easily as she used to—she used to think the movie Fifty First Dates was the stupidest thing ever, even though medically she understood that people could have problems developing short-term memories. A few weeks ago, she’d watched it and bawled like a baby because she understood.

  She’d once had a mind like a steel trap. Now she couldn’t go anywhere without notebooks because she had to write down everything. She’d gone into the grocery store with one thing in mind. One thing. One thing only—she’d even written it down on her hand because she’d lost her notebook. What had she needed? More notebooks.

  What had she left the store with?

  Tampons. She’d completely forgotten that she’d written herself a note on her hand.

  “How’s the little guy?”

  Hannah was pregnant—she wasn’t going to need tampons for quite a while. Brushing the annoyances of her messed-up memory, her shattered focus aside, she looked down at her belly with a rueful smile.

  The slight bulge of her belly concealed yet one more thing she didn’t remember. She rubbed a hand over the hard mound of her belly. She was three and a half months pregnant and although she knew without a doubt who the father was, she didn’t remember anything about it.

  “She or he is doing fine,” she said loftily.

  “Brannon ain’t talked you into finding out if it’s a boy or girl, huh?”

  She slid J.P. a look. “Since when have you ever known me to be talked into anything?”

  J.P. laughed. “True, true.” They merged into traffic. “We have to take Mrs. Leery in for some tests. She fell a little while ago and they’re worried she might have broken her hip.”

  “Mrs. Leery.” Hannah closed her eyes, trying to bring a face to mind.

  J.P. handed her a high school yearbook. They’d taken to keeping several things like that on hand, yearbooks, photo albums. When it came to people she hadn’t seen since before the wreck, she still needed the occasional jog.

  She opened it to the place that was marked by a napkin.

  Her heart twisted at the sight of the birdlike face peering up at her and at the rush of emotion, a few memories worked free, followed immediately by more. “I had her for music,” she murmured.

  “All of us did. She plays piano at the assisted living center.” J.P. checked the mirror and then cut over, turning left toward the center. “I sure as hell hope she didn’t break that hip.”

  * * *

  “What do you think?”

  Brannon rolled the wine around in his mouth, swallowed, and then because he knew it would annoy Marc if he didn’t answer right away, he took another sip.

  Marc’s hands tightened on the edge of the counter.

  Next to him, Marc’s new assistant Alison pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. If Brannon wasn’t mistaken, and he didn’t think he was, he suspected Alison would be open to being a lot more than just Marc’s assistant. Brannon had no problem with it as long as they could work together if it fell apart, and he suspected they could. But Marc was oblivious. As always.

  Alison held her own wine glass in her hand. Her t-shirt read: My boss lets me drink on the job.

  Marc had told her a hundred times not to wear it.

  Brannon told her he loved it, and he had asked her to design some for the shop in town.

  It was an endless game between them.

  Finally, he lowered the glass and put it on the softly gleaming wood of the bar. “Marc…” He sighed heavily and shook his head.

  Marc’s shoulders slumped and he looked crestfallen already.

  Brannon smiled. “You’re a genius. It’s fantastic.”

  The vintner had wanted to start blending two wines together and Brannon had told him to go for it—he liked the end result and he enjoyed the science of it, but that was Marc’s specialty. If he could be around more, he would have been more hands on.

  Sighing inwardly, he looked around. Summer was already gone and he’d missed too much around this place, but there wasn’t anything he could have done.

  Between Neve coming home, that son of a bitch who’d followed her and tried to hurt not just one of his sisters but both of them, and then …

  His gut clenched.

  Hannah.

  “Are you okay?” Alison reached out and touched his hand, her purple-tinted eyes concerned.

  His new employee couldn’t have been more different from Marc if she tried. She was as outlandish as Marc was conservative. Marc was buttoned-up and buttoned-down and uptight. Alison Maxwell was band T’s and faded blue jeans and everything laid back and relaxed. Marc’s head was lost in his wine vats half the time and Alison noticed everything.

  They were a perfect fit. Marc should really open his eyes to the looks Alison made no attempt to hide.

  But Brannon wasn’t exactly the best person to be lecturing anybody about romance, now was he?

  He’d almost lost the woman who all but owned him, all because the idea of caring about somebody again terrified him.

  I love you …

  She’d said those words to him. But it hadn’t been a happy confession. She’d told him because she wanted him to know what he was losing.

  “Brannon?”

  He made himself focus on Alison’s face. “I’m fine,” he said.

  “You’re supposed to be going to the doctor with Hannah today, right?” Alison asked, moving out from behind the bar. The winery was slow today. They had been open for a few weeks and had fallen into something of a pattern. Weekends were surprisingly steady and Wednesdays, too, thanks to the specials they offered. They were closed on Mondays, but Tuesdays and Thursdays were pretty dead.

  Today was a Tuesday and only a few people had trickled in.

  When Alison hopped onto the stool next to him, he managed to hide a wince. He really wasn’t up to a heart to heart.

  “Yeah,” he said, giving her a vague smile and not once looking her in the eyes. He knew all the tricks when it came to this. He did have sisters after all. If he looked her in the eyes, he was a goner. The idea was to make a quick getaway and—

  The bell over the door chimed.

  Saved by the—

  He turned.

  Son of a bitch.

  “Senator.” Folding his arms over his chest, he stared at Henry Roberts, a man who had managed to become a thorn not just in his side, but in Moira’s, too. Last week, he’d shown up at the pub and had dinner there, and had taken the time to speak to Ian.

  It seemed the good senator was very interested in Treasure these days, and in the McKays especially. It didn’t matter that they’d told him to fuck off.

  They had never kissed political ass—their many-times great-grandfather Paddy McKay had gotten his neck stretched all because he hadn’t played that game. It was pretty much a point of pride now.

  Brannon wasn’t about to change that and he knew his sisters wouldn’t either.

  Henry gave him that wide, affable smile that was part and parcel for a politician. “Brannon.” He nodded and looked around. “It sure is a beautiful place you got here. Fine place, fine place.”

  His staff moved in, flocking around him like crows. Although Bran
non thought maybe vultures was a more apt term. Despite the heat of the day, they all wore black. Discreet but expensive sunglasses hid their faces and they all fanned out through the public area of the winery, from the counter to the shop. Two of them took up purchase at the window—just like a couple of scavengers, looking for their next meal.

  “Is there something I can do for you?” he asked, not moving forward to meet the man.

  Clearly, the senator was expecting it.

  But Brannon hadn’t asked him here. If the son of a bitch wanted something, he could come to Brannon.

  A thoughtful expression crossed Senator Henry Roberts’ face.

  “I had a free morning and I’ve wanted to come out and see your place,” Henry said, smiling. “You and your family do a great deal for McKay’s Treasure, for the county. Indeed, for the entire state. This little project of yours intrigues me.”

  “This isn’t exactly a little project,” Brannon said, refusing to rise to the bait. “I’ve invested millions in it. The property alone is worth…” He paused and then asked, “How much money did you want to raise at that fundraiser you’d hoped to host here in town again?”

  An odd noise escaped one of the muscled goons standing off in the corner. Brannon flicked him a look, let his smile widen a fraction before he looked back at the senator. “Just what exactly were you wanting today, Senator? If you’re in the mood for a wine tasting, my staff will hook you up. Otherwise, I’ve got work to do and an appointment later on.”

  “Would that be your … girlfriend?”

  The pause was so slight, Brannon might have imagined it.

  But Brannon wasn’t the type to imagine things.

  He pushed away from the counter.

  Fine. The senator wanted him to make a move?

  He’d make a fucking move.

  “You want to be careful here,” Brannon said softly. “I’m not the courteous one in the family, Roberts.”

  One of the senator’s bodyguards cut in front of Brannon. “Oh, chill the fuck out,” Brannon said, biting each word off. “Your boss came here to pick a fight.”

  “It’s okay, Aiden,” the senator said softly. As the muscle-bound moron stepped aside, Henry Roberts moved toward Brannon. He kept his voice low and his smile firmly in place, no doubt in deference to the security cameras that were out in clear view.

  “Now, Brannon. I didn’t come here to pick a fight. I reached out to you and your family in friendship. A man in my position could use the support of a prominent family like yours.” Henry smiled. “Your parents, your grandparents, both of them were staunch believers in supporting the economic growth of this fine state. I’d hoped they’d passed those values onto their children.”

  “Oh, they did.” Brannon leaned forward, using his greater height to its full advantage. “The thing is—my parents and my grandparents believed in supporting the state. They didn’t believe in supporting bottom-feeding pissants like you who make promises right up until D-Day and then break them the very next. I don’t like politicians, Senator. Period.”

  Then he stepped back and hooked his thumbs in his pockets. “I especially don’t like politicians like yourself—you know, the kind that talk about family values, talk about living life on the straight and narrow, being hard on thugs and drug dealers…” Brannon paused, smirking, “Yet you have a bit of problem with hookers and drugs yourself.”

  The senator’s face went red. Brannon’s smile took on an evil cast. “Then there’s the way some of you preach against abortion and then force your daughter to get one after getting knocked up.”

  Roberts sucked in a harsh breath and Brannon had to fight the urge to laugh. No, he didn’t play the political game at all, but he knew all about how powerful information was. He was a McKay. When Roberts had started making noises around his family, Brannon had done the wise thing and put his ear to the ground. As the older man began to snarl, Brannon cocked a brow. “What … did you think you could pay off everybody?”

  “You…” Roberts went red in the face.

  An aide rushed to his side.

  He waved him away and stormed over to Brannon. “Who in the fuck have you been talking to? You … did you … that Hardee—”

  Immediately, Roberts clamped his mouth shut.

  “Hardee?” He started to laugh. “Well, shit, Senator. Were you one of her marks?” Shayla Hardee’s murder was still unsolved but most people in town knew why she was dead. Or why she was most likely dead. It had come as no surprise to learn that Shayla had been involved in blackmail.

  “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, Brannon,” the senator said, recovering smoothly.

  Damn smoothly, Brannon had to admit.

  “Who on earth have you been hearing all these crazy rumors from?” Roberts asked, his face now taking on the set of a man heavily burdened. “A man in my position … well, you must know what it’s like to have enemies.”

  “Nah. I’m a friendly guy. I don’t do enemies.” Brannon bared his teeth in a mockery of a smile. “I can’t much claim to listen to gossip, but I certainly know people willing to … talk.”

  Roberts’ jaw clenched.

  “Look, Brannon…”

  The senator was interrupted by a strident demand. “You better get your fucking hands off me!”

  Brannon whipped his head around at the furious sound of his manager’s voice.

  Tag was built like a mountain man and looked the part, too. When pushed, he also had the temper of a mountain lion—a hungry one.

  As one of the bodyguards tried to hustle him back out the rear entrance, Tag drew back his fist.

  “Tag!” Brannon shouted.

  Tag shot him a look.

  The bodyguard used that moment to grab him, or try to.

  It went straight to hell from there.

  * * *

  “You want to explain this all to me again?”

  Brannon stood with his arms folded over his chest while the state troopers and Tag spoke.

  Tag had a black eye, a bloody lip and his nose had been busted. The state boys had given him given him some wipes to clean up.

  The senator’s team was trying to whitewash everything, but that wasn’t going over very well.

  The two who had been standing unobtrusively by the windows had actually been jamming Brannon’s security cameras.

  But he could kiss Alison for what she had done.

  One of the reasons he’d hired her was because she was a fucking genius. She’d seen one of them watching the cameras so she’d casually slipped back behind the counter and checked the set-up back there. Once she’d seen what was going on, she’d started recording them with her phone camera. How she’d done that without them noticing, he didn’t know. Apparently, she had her phone set to simultaneously upload, so the whole damn thing was live from the get-go. It had started live streaming immediately and she sent it to YouTube as well.

  The senator might not be able to press enough flesh to fix this PR nightmare.

  “Brannon?”

  Dragging his eyes away from Tag’s battered face, he looked back at Sheriff Tank Granger. He had showed up only minutes after Marc had quietly pushed the panic button on the security system. Seriously, he owed Marc, Tag, and Alison a bonus—and a case of wine. Maybe five cases.

  The door opened and he swore at the sound of the jangling bell. “I’m going to rip that damn bell and shove it up somebody’s ass,” Brannon said, spinning away and bracing his hands on the counter.

  The senator’s duplicitous face caught his eyes and he curled one hand into a fist.

  Gideon blocked his view in the next moment.

  “You need to take a deep breath, Bran,” Gideon said. He glanced over his shoulder and then back at Brannon. “A real deep breath. Your sister won’t be happy if you end up in jail over that one.”

  “Please tell me you’ve seen the video.”

  “I have. Twice.” Gideon looked like he was trying not to smile. He settled on the seat next to Brann
on.

  Brannon wasn’t fooled by his friend’s relaxed posture, though. He had no doubt if he made even the slightest move, Gideon would be all over him. “Moira called you, didn’t she?”

  “Moira.” Gideon nodded. “Neve. Then Ian. Thanks to Alison’s little YouTube exploits, most of the town knows. She tagged some of the people she knew on Facebook as she did it, and they tagged people and they tagged people. You’ve gone viral, Brannon.”

  “Shit.” Brannon lifted his face to the ceiling. “You’d think I end up in trouble all the time the way they act.”

  “Nah.” Gideon shrugged. “They just know you. When you lose your temper, Brannon, you go nuclear.”

  “Nuclear, huh?” Running his tongue along his teeth, he stared at the solid form of the senator. Yeah, he thought maybe he’d like to go nuclear on that son of a bitch’s ass. Then he turned back to Granger. “Let’s get this done. Now’s a good enough time, since he’s here. I’m sure he’s going to want to hear it, too.”

  Tank ran a hand back over his smooth scalp and shot Gideon a look. Both he and Gideon shared a friendly enough relationship, but they were slightly territorial—as any number of law enforcement officers could be. “You do realize you don’t have to tell the chief of police anything. This is outside the city limits.”

  Brannon snorted. “I don’t have to. But he’ll nag me until I do—and I’m not telling the chief shit. I’m telling a friend.”

  He moved behind the bar and grabbed the bottle of wine Marc and Alison had opened for him to try. He didn’t bother offering any to anybody else. Alison and Marc had cracked open a bottle earlier and were talking quietly in the corner. Surprisingly, Marc was the calm one right now and he had his arm protectively curled around her.

  Neither the senator nor his people had realized her video was up for all the world to see until the sheriff’s men had shown up. Now it was too late for damage control, but the looks they were giving were enough that even Brannon was uneasy.

  “The senator wanted to host a party at the museum a while back,” Brannon said, not bothering to keep his voice quiet.