And found himself slammed up against the building. His head cracked against the brick, and stars exploded behind his eyes. “What the hell?”
Logan tightened his grip on Tucker’s arms and leaned in until their noses were almost touching. “You fucking stay away from her, or I swear to God, I’ll cut off your arms and grind them in our meat grinder.”
Tucker winced. “Dude. That’s sick.”
Fury lit Logan’s blue eyes. “Yeah. That’s me. Sick.”
Tucker sighed, suddenly feeling a million years older than pretty much everybody. “Listen, crackerjack. I wasn’t on a date with your girl. Jesus. I’m old enough to be her…well, her much older uncle. And I’d never do that to you.” He broke Logan’s hold and shoved his cousin back a foot.
“Bullshit. You stole Hannah from Tate, and now you move on to Ginny?” Logan slid one foot back in a clear pre-attack mode, his eyes a little wild.
Tucker held up a hand. “Tate, Hannah, and I are none of your business. As for Ginny, she was sitting all by herself in the back booth, looking like she was about to cry, and everyone seemed to be talking about her. Of course I sat down.”
Logan’s arms dropped to his sides. He blinked. “She was crying?”
“No.” Tucker kept from rubbing the back of his head. God, his cousin was screwed up. The kid wasn’t even really mad at Tucker—just needed to strike out. “Her chin was up, and she was trying really hard not to cry. She looked too scared to walk out.” Okay. She hadn’t looked scared per se, but hell. Why not give Logan some incentive? He’d been happy with Ginny. “So I sat with her so she’d eat. I’m not sure she’s really eating. Stress, you know?”
Logan paled.
Tucker shook his head. This was none of his business. “Listen, Logan. She’s a frightened, nice girl who made a huge mistake. If you want her to be yours, then do something about it. If you don’t, than stop acting like you do.”
Logan pressed both hands to his fit hips. “You’re giving me dating advice, cousin?”
Tucker scrubbed his hand down his face. “That’s a very good point. Although, considering you just shoved me against a wall, I feel the right to at least express my opinion.” Ginny and Logan weren’t kids anymore, without a doubt, so he should let them be. “Anyway, I’m sorry you got the wrong impression. It made her sad.” With that parting shot, he shoved by Logan and headed for his truck.
How many family members were going to try and beat him up in one day?
Chapter Five
Hannah Grossman finished checking the collie’s leg. “It’s okay, Bernie. A couple of weeks with a cast, and you’ll be just fine, baby.” She ran her hands through the dog’s fur, and he whimpered with what almost sounded like gratitude. “Pain pills rock, right?”
The dog snored himself into dreamland.
Hannah smiled and stood, wincing as her aching back popped. It had been a busy day at the small veterinary clinic. Many animals had needed assistance, while quite a few others suddenly had required checkups as their owners wanted to let her know about the big fight earlier in town. At least it was Friday night and she had the entire weekend off to recuperate.
The gossips had wanted to see her reaction to the brawl for themselves. Several had asked questions about Tucker and Tate, their gazes gleaming and judgmental, even as they sidled in for the scoop.
The bell over the door rang, and she groaned. It was way past closing time, but if an animal needed help, she’d be there. However, if anybody just wanted to gossip, she was done for the damn day. Plastering on a smile, she strode into the reception area and stopped cold. “Tate.”
The lawyer stood in the bright room, his sinewed body filling out the pressed slacks and dress shirt perfectly. His hair was wet and slicked back as if he’d just gotten out of the shower. A massive purple bruise spread across his left cheekbone.
Her knees wobbled, and her stomach lurched. Oh, she’d had a long day, and she always needed time to center herself before a conflict. Tate could be sharp to the point of caustic, and she wasn’t prepared for him. They’d only seen each other from afar for months. Apparently he’d decided it was time to talk. “Um, hi.”
He crossed his arms. “I thought we should talk.”
She gaped at the dark bruise. “I heard that you and Tucker…”
“Yes. We had a bit of an altercation.” His expression gave nothing away.
She took a deep breath. “Are you all right?”
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t you mean to ask if Tucker is all right?”
“Both of you,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. Everything inside her wanted to run away, but she needed to face not only him but what she’d done. What she’d do again if given the chance.
“We’re both fine,” he said, giving her relief. That was Tate. He might be pissed, he might even be mean, but he was always honest.
In contrast, she’d been anything but truthful. “I’m glad you came by.”
His eyebrows rose. “Oh?”
She wrung her hands together. It was time to stop avoiding this conversation. “I’m sorry, Tate. It’s all I can say, and I want you to know that I really mean it. I screwed everything up. I should’ve told you it wasn’t working out, that we aren’t compatible, and I just chickened out.”
“You chickened out?” Red spiraled across his high cheekbones.
“Yes.” Oh, she deserved his anger, and adrenaline flooded her system.
“You fucked my brother, Hannah. That’s a bit more than chickening out.”
To hear Tate say the “f word” to her was almost as shocking as seeing the ugly bruise on his face. “You’re right, I’m wrong, and I’m sorry.” There really wasn’t anything else to say, and yet she felt like she should keep on trying. “It’s my fault and not Tucker’s.”
Tate snarled. “Don’t even think of defending my brother to me. Right now and right here is between us. We had a commitment, and I kept up my end.”
She sighed. “That’s just it, Tate. We had a commitment and not much else. I mean, why did you even want to be with me?”
His gaze darkened in a way that used to intrigue her. “We’re the perfect match.”
She shook her head. “We look like the perfect match. I mean, what a successful political family in Storm should look like, especially since I’m from a well-known family in the area. But we’re more than looks, don’t you think? Don’t you want to be with somebody who loves you no matter what you do? What job you take? How you look? With passion and craziness and everything else?”
His eyebrows drew down just like they did when he was preparing his closing argument for a difficult case. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Her stomach turned over. “If you don’t understand, then I can’t explain it right. But can you trust me? You and I weren’t happy.”
“We weren’t sad,” he countered, his voice low.
“We weren’t really anything.” She wanted so much to comfort him, but she didn’t know how. “I care about you. I’ll always care.” But it was more of a friendship or even a dream of what might’ve been, and not reality. “Someday you’ll find somebody, and you’ll understand.” She hoped.
“Did I ever give you any reason to believe you couldn’t talk to me? That I wouldn’t work out problems with you?” For the first time, vulnerability shone in his eyes.
“No, but you never really saw me. You don’t understand why I not only have but need the menagerie of animals at my house. They bother you.”
“This is about your animals?” he asked, shaking his head. “Are you kidding me?”
“No.” She coughed. “The animals and our different opinions about them is just one of the many things that don’t fit between us.”
“And Tucker fits? He understands?”
She bit her lip. “Yeah. He gets me.” The words hurt to say, because they’d definitely wound Tate, but she was finished lying about her feelings to everybody.
His chin lowered. “It’s not going t
o work out, you know. Not a chance.”
She swallowed. “What?”
“You and Tucker. He’s always wanted what I had, but not for the right reasons. He wanted to play football because I was the starter, and when he earned a spot on varsity, he got bored and moved on. Same with guitar, same with college, and same with Lindsey McIntire.”
“Who?” Hannah asked, the hair pricking down her neck.
“Lindsey was the prom queen and my girlfriend in high school. We broke up, and Tucker dated her, all in love. The second, and I mean the very second, I told him I was fine with it, he moved on. Dropped her like a bad habit.” Tate shook his head and turned for the door. “This is all about me and my brother, Hannah. You’re just collateral damage.” With a swish of the door, Tate Johnson strode out of her life.
* * * *
Tate drove through town, keeping to the speed limit, his temples aching like miniature Spartans threw spears inside his head. Part of him, a small percentage of his personality that he didn’t much like, wanted to turn around and convince Hannah to give him another chance.
Was it the woman or just the chance to win? To beat his brother?
Either way, he didn’t do anything to deserve what Tuck and Hannah had done.
The pain in her eyes when he’d called her out made his chest hurt, and wasn’t that all sorts of screwed up? She obviously hadn’t given one thought to him before sleeping with his brother.
Did Tate even want her back? His brother had been there. Would Tate ever be able to look at her the same way again? Probably not.
His phone rang, and he pressed a button on his steering wheel. “Johnson.”
“Tate Johnson?” The voice was low and gravelly…and unfamiliar.
“Who’s this?” If it was one more person wanting to talk to him about his screwed up love life, he was going to lose his damn mind.
“My name is Oliver Stayton, and I’d like to have a word with you.”
“If you need a lawyer, I’m busy.” Tate had a campaign to start winning.
Oliver chuckled. “If I needed a lawyer, I wouldn’t be doing my job, which is in the political arena. I’m a crisis manager, and my friend, you’re in a crisis.” Paper rustled over the line. “Take a minute and Google me…and then meet me at Murphy’s Pub in fifteen minutes.” The line went dead.
What a complete dick. Tate slowed down to let a couple of cats cross the road. See? He liked animals, damn it. He’d heard of Stayton, hadn’t he? He pressed another button just as rain began to fall. “Siri? Google Oliver Stayton.”
The robotic female voice listed newspaper articles, blogs, and even a website talking about Stayton. Interesting.
Tate took the next turn, drove for five minutes, and parked at Murphy’s. The dinner hour was over and the party crowd hadn’t showered and shaved for the night yet, so the area was fairly quiet. He cut the engine, jumped out, and dodged through the rain.
The smell of beer and pine cleanser assailed him as he strode inside the warmth.
A man waved from the back booth. The guy was fit, with designer glasses, short dark hair, and angled features. So that’s what a political operative looked like.
Tate nodded to Logan behind the bar and kept going, arriving at the table. He scooted in just as his cousin ambled over with a pint. “Thanks,” he said, noting that Stayton was drinking a martini.
Logan nodded, glanced at Stayton, and then turned back for the bar.
Tate took a drink. “How’d you get my private cell number?”
Stayton didn’t blink. “I make more than a grand an hour and you want to talk about cell phone numbers?”
Tate eyed the guy over his beer mug. “I’m not paying you a grand an hour.”
“No.” Stayton tapped the stem of his glass. “I’m already in town for that price for Senator Rush. How about you pay half that and then owe me a favor sometime in the future?”
Tate snorted. “The Godfather is dead, buddy.” He made to move from the booth.
“So is your political career.” Stayton took a healthy drink.
Tate paused. “Excuse me?”
“I’m a crisis manager, as you know. And I’m telling you that you’re in more trouble than the senator is right now.”
Tate lifted his chin. “Are you kidding me? The senator has been accused of sleeping with young women and impregnating an orphan.”
“Exactly.” Stayton nodded, his eyes gleaming in the dim lights of the pub. “He made a mistake, and he was seduced. So sad. You, on the other hand, were made a fool of by your own brother. You look like an idiot who can’t even command loyalty from a guy who shares your DNA.”
Irritation clawed up Tate’s throat. “That’s not how voters see it.”
Stayton smiled, and the sight was almost chilling. “That’s exactly how the voters see it, especially if an opponent spins it so you’re not very bright. Add in the fact that you have strong enough anger issues to brawl with your own brother in the center of town?”
Tate settled back down, his mind spinning. “Wouldn’t it be a conflict of interest for you to work for both the senator and for me?”
“No, since you’re not running for the same position. Yet, anyway.” Stayton tipped back the rest of his drink. “If you hire me, I can help you get over this little setback. If you don’t, you’ll never be the mayor of this town.”
Tate breathed out, analyzing the situation in clear lines, like he’d been taught in law school. First he needed more facts. “Let’s say I’m considering it. What exactly would your first move be?”
“Is there any chance your brother will denounce Hannah Grossman as a whore and apologize publicly to you?” Stayton kept his voice low enough that nobody could overhear, even as he motioned for another drink.
Tate snorted. “No. No chance in hell.”
Logan shot him a look, both eyebrows raised. Then he glanced pointedly at Stayton.
Tate gave a slight roll of his eyes. The last thing he needed was his cousin barreling in to protect him from Stayton.
Amusement lit Stayton’s gaze as he looked from Logan and back to Tate. “Will Hannah turn on your brother? Say he seduced her?”
Tate took a deep drink of his beer. “Nope.” She’d all but said she loved Tucker, now hadn’t she? Anger took hold again inside his chest.
“Well, then. We highlight your differences. Tucker and Hannah are small town folk, kind of simple, and not honest. You, on the other hand, are highly educated, and you’ve spent much of your time fighting for the rights of others in the courtroom. You have big dreams, and we won’t say it, but we’ll show that you’re bigger than this place.”
“Bigger?” Tate sat back as Logan slid another martini in front of Stayton. What the hell did that mean?
Stayton waited until Logan had passed out of earshot. “Voters love to put the guy in office who’s meant for so much more than that office.” He stirred his drink with the olive sword. “There are several of your cases we need to highlight, and I’ll have contacts at the local newspapers reach out to feature you.”
Tate rubbed his aching jaw. Did he really want to get into bed with this guy? “You should know I hired Joanne Alvarez earlier today, right after Marylee Rush fired her. The Rushes are going to be displeased.”
Stayton’s eyebrows rose. “Interesting. I read a background file on Joanne before heading to town. She’s a domestic violence victim and now is a single mom. I can work with that.”
Tate shook his head. “Her daughter is one of the senator’s accusers.”
Stayton shrugged. “That doesn’t affect you, the nice guy who reached out to help the poor woman. It isn’t her fault her husband abandoned her and her daughter went off the rails. Good move. I’ll have those facts leaked as well.”
Tate swallowed. “I’m going to have to consider your offer.” Was it possible to go into politics and not make a deal with the devil? He was starting to wonder.
Stayton reached for his phone and started to scroll. “Let me
know when you decide.” Obviously done with the conversation, he began texting someone.
Tate pushed from the booth. What the hell should he do?
Chapter Six
Hannah’s stomach still churned from her confrontation with Tate as she entered her front door and was instantly greeted by hurtling fur balls, happy yips, and a couple of irritated meows. She bent down and gave love and gentle scratches. It took her a second to notice the man sitting on her couch. “Tucker?”
A light on the sofa table illuminated the cheery living room. He slumped against the cushions, a bruise across his jaw, darkness in his hazel eyes.
Her chest clenched and her body thrummed to life. In two seconds, she went from upset to intrigued. That couldn’t be healthy. She shut the door, gently moving the animals away with her feet. “Are you all right?”
“No.” He didn’t move. “We really fucked up, Hannah.”
Her breath caught. “I know.” She dropped her purse to the tile floor. Should she go to him or stay the heck away? Even after being with him the last couple of months, she wasn’t quite sure what to do.
Tension swelled from him, catching her unawares. Tucker was the good-natured Johnson, with a manner that invited peace. Usually. “What are we going to do?” he asked, rubbing his hands down his faded jeans. His knuckles were bruised.
“I’m not sure,” she murmured. Wow. He and Tate had really gone at it, hadn’t they? She should stay across the room so they could talk. If she neared him, she’d touch him, and then she’d be lost.
Digger, the dachshund, headed toward the kitchen and barked, no doubt wanting his dinner. The kitchen lay to the left, the living room straight ahead. She went on instinct and moved toward Tucker, drawn to him as always. “What do you want to do?” she asked.
He scrubbed a hand across his eyes. “Go back and change things?”
She halted mid-stride, a foot away from him, her boots catching on the roped rug. His words were like a hammer blow to the chest. “Oh.”
Against the Wind, Season 2, Episode 1 (Rising Storm) Page 4