Lone Star Nights

by Delores Fossen

  “Is the money in your shoes?” Cassie asked.

  Silence.

  All except for a huff from Davy. “I have the right to search her,” he insisted.

  “No, you don’t,” Lucky insisted right back. “She’s a minor, and besides, Mackenzie’s going to give back the money. Aren’t you?” he added through clenched teeth.

  The next couple of seconds crawled by. Finally, Mackenzie mumbled some profanity and pulled the money from her right shoe. All five twenties did indeed have devil horns on them. Devils, too. Apparently, Tommy Larkin had spent some time preparing his alimony payment.

  Davy put away the handcuffs so he could put on a pair of latex gloves before he took the money and counted it. Twice. Then he put the bills in a plastic evidence bag that he’d taken from his pocket.

  “I still have to arrest her,” Davy insisted. He shoved the bag and gloves back in his pocket so he could take out the cuffs again.

  “You’re not taking a thirteen-year-old to jail,” Cassie insisted.

  Davy just stared at her in disbelief. “If she’s thirteen, I’m a camel.”

  “Then you’re a camel,” Lucky said, his voice flat.

  Livvy mumbled something much worse—“You’re a dickweed.” Cassie agreed with her but hoped the girls hadn’t heard that. Claire apparently had because she pulled her business partner aside.

  “Duckweed,” Claire whispered, tipping her head to Mia, then to Ethan, who had apparently finished his cat-chasing adventure and was now falling asleep on the floor.

  Livvy nodded, apparently agreeing with the kid-friendly word substitute.

  Davy volleyed glances between Mackenzie and the cuffs. “I can arrest minors,” he said.

  Livvy was about to say something else, but Claire took hold of her arm and moved her away.

  Mia stepped forward, maneuvering her way through the group to get to the deputy. She plucked the gold star from her hair and offered it to Davy. “It’s magic, and I want to use my one wish so that my sister don’t have to go to jail.”

  Oh, mercy. Could the child get any sweeter? It was as if she’d sucked up all the sweetness from Mackenzie, who wasn’t doing anything remotely sweet at the moment. She was glaring at all of them.

  Of course, later Cassie would need to clarify to Mia that there was no such thing as magic. She didn’t want Mia trying to use that gold star to get out of a serious situation, only to learn the hard way that it was just a piece of foiled plastic with a sticky back and came in packets of a hundred.

  Davy did more of those volleyed glances at all of them, obviously not sure what to do about that. But Lucky did.

  Lucky knelt down to face Mia. “Save your magic star for something else,” Lucky told her with a smile, but he wasn’t smiling when he stood again and turned to Davy. “Here’s how this will work. You will return that money to Wilhelmina, and I’ll call her and explain that this will never happen again.”

  Davy shook his head. “Wilhelmina’s pretty upset.”

  “Then I’ll go see her,” Lucky snapped.

  Davy still shook his head. “She was really upset.” In Davy’s world really was clearly a step up from pretty.

  “Then I’ll go see Wilhelmina now,” Lucky amended. He took hold of Davy’s arm, leading him out the door. “Watch the girls,” he added over his shoulder to no one in particular. He also took the time to fire off one last scowl to Mackenzie. “And watch Cassie.” Again said to no one in particular.

  Cassie wanted to tell him that she didn’t need watching, but that would have required her to talk about the panic attack. No way did she want to discuss that.

  “You need help?” Riley called out to his brother.

  Lucky shook his head. “I’ll be back as soon as I smooth things over with Wilhelmina.”

  Cassie figured that would require him to semipimp himself with some flirting and winking. Perhaps even a coffee date. She wasn’t usually in favor of that sort of thing, but she couldn’t see much benefit in Mackenzie being hauled off to jail. Although it would keep her from running away. Still, Mackenzie didn’t need that kind of trauma in her life and neither did Mia.

  Davy reached his cruiser, and he aimed his parting comment at Cassie. “If Lucky’s silver tongue turns out to be brass, I’ll be back. And none of you will stop me from making that arrest.”

  He drove off with Livvy’s shout coming through even over the sound of the car engine. “Duckweed!”

  * * *

  LOGAN SIPPED HIS whiskey and stared out the bay window of his suite. Definitely not his usual view from his town loft. Or at least it hadn’t been for a long time now. But since this had been his childhood room, it was a view he knew well.

  The pastures, the barns and the white fences to contain it all. Since the place had been his father’s design, everything was aligned just the way it should be. The pastures had even been leveled out so that the fences were in a perfectly straight line. No dips or peaks. His father hadn’t been a fan of the rolling-hills effect.

  There was something reassuring about that. Everything in its place. Too bad Logan couldn’t do that with the family.

  If his dad were alive, he would have said Logan had failed.

  And he had.

  Riley was back now, and happy—to Logan that was equally important, though his dad would have been content with him just being back. Anna would soon return, once she’d finished her degree and her fiancé finished his military commitment. And Anna would get married and continue with the next generation of McCords. So would Riley. A generation to build on what their father had started thirty-five years ago.

  That left Lucky.

  Logan’s biggest failure.

  His twin brother was filled with anger, and Logan hadn’t been able to do anything about it. The more Logan pushed, the more Lucky backed away, and when he didn’t push, Lucky kept backing further away anyway.

  Keep the family together.

  That was one of the last things his father had said to him. Logan had been nineteen and had come home from college for reasons he couldn’t remember. It had been an ordinary conversation, one he’d had with his dad countless times since he was more likely to listen than Lucky was. However, Logan hadn’t known that it would be their last—that less than twelve hours later both his parents would be dead from a car accident. One that could have been prevented.

  But that was an old scabbed wound that he didn’t want to pick at tonight.

  Still, he couldn’t push it completely aside. His father had told him to keep the family together. Maybe because he’d had a premonition about his death, maybe because he was feeling down about Lucky and him going off to college. Either way, those words had become Logan’s fuel.

  And the source of plenty of sleepless nights.

  Probably the source of the migraines he’d been having, too. That also was a different problem for a different day. As long as a migraine wasn’t chasing him right now, he could put it out of his mind. But he couldn’t do that with family. It was always there, always on the front burner, right where his father had put it.

  If he couldn’t draw Lucky back into the family with work, then he needed to find another angle, because losing his brother wasn’t an option. That was the problem with a mandate from a father who was now dead. The mandate couldn’t be changed, and Logan was as stuck with it as the rest of his siblings were.

  “Are you ever coming to bed?” Helene asked.

  Thanks to the moonlight spilling through the window, Logan had no trouble seeing his longtime girlfriend, Helene Langford. Her long blond hair, spilling onto her creamy white shoulders. Her smile. The way she touched her tongue to her top lip when she looked at him.

  She was naked, but she had the white sheet clutched to her midsection. Her long bare legs were on top of the cover. Her head was ti
lted to the side as she studied him. All in all, a beautiful sight.

  Perfect.

  Everything aligned as it should be, and he wasn’t just talking about her face and body. Helene was the perfect woman for him, right down to her double degrees in business and interior design. She could make things pretty and organized, just the way he liked them.

  They’d been together for eight years now. Since Logan’s twenty-fifth birthday when Anna had set them up on a date. Soon, he’d propose, and they could start on their own next generation of McCords. First, though, Logan had to make sure everything was in place.

  “I mean, are you coming to bed to sleep?” Helene clarified, smiling. Because he’d already been in bed with her but had gotten up after they’d had sex.

  “Soon. I’m waiting on an email from the PI.”

  “Another one? You’ve been exchanging emails with him all night.”

  Yes, and he might have to exchange even more tomorrow and the day after. “The PI’s still doing the background checks on this situation.”

  No need to explain what that situation was. Helene was well aware of this custody mess Dixie Mae had dumped on Lucky and Cassie.

  “Any red flags yet?” Helene asked.

  The whole thing was a red flag as far as Logan was concerned. Still, he knew what she meant. “Dixie Mae did have temporary guardianship of the girls prior to her death. The girls’ grandmother had her lawyer do the paperwork, and it all looks legit to the PI.”

  “But?”

  Logan had to shrug. “There might not be any buts. If this is some kind of scam, the PI isn’t finding the angle.”

  “What about Cassie’s father?” Helene asked. “Mason-Dixon could have orchestrated this.”

  He nodded. Definitely. “The PI hasn’t found any connection between Mason-Dixon and the girls. No connection between him and their parents, either. Their dad died the same year the younger one was born. Accidental drowning. He was drunk and drove his truck off a bridge.”

  “So, not father-of-the-year material,” Helene mumbled.

  That was only the tip of the iceberg when it came to the man’s father-of-the-year status. He’d had several other arrests, most involving alcohol or theft, and he’d never paid a dime of child support.

  “And their mother?” Helene asked.

  “Not mother-of-the-year material, either. Gracie Compton. She died of a drug overdose last year. That’s how her mother ended up with custody.”

  Of course, that hadn’t lasted long because the grandmother had then died from cancer. The girls had really been through hell in their short lives, and while Logan wasn’t untouched by that, he also didn’t want someone using this situation as a chance to scam them or his brother.

  Helene patted the spot beside her. “Come to bed,” she insisted. “And if you do, I’ll make sure to work extra hours to finish the renovation on the loft so we can get back into our own bed by next week. I’ll work some extra hours on the Founder’s Day picnic, too.”

  She was already working extra hours. Because that’s what Helene did. She worked as many hours as Logan did, maybe more, and her only downtime seemed to be the Friday and Saturday nights she spent with him—in their bed.

  Well, a bed that she’d picked out anyway.

  Actually, six years ago Helene had picked out everything in the loft when he’d first had it repurposed from guest rooms to his private suite. Since the company offices were on the ground and second floors of the Victorian house, it had made sense for him to have a place to sleep there, too. It wasn’t home exactly, but it was better than being alone in the empty place.

  Too many memories here. And those memories seemed to come tapping on his shoulder whenever he stayed the night.

  But for now, Helene was doing the tapping. She patted the bed again and gave him a look he had no trouble interpreting—Did he want seconds?

  He sure did, and Logan was headed in that direction when his phone dinged. It was the email from the PI, and hopefully this would be the last report on the matter of the guardianship issue. However, it wasn’t the girls’ name or even Dixie Mae’s on the background check from the PI.

  It was Cassie’s.

  Logan had asked for any and all information, and the PI must have thought that included Cassie. He thumbed through it, not expecting to see anything that would surprise him.

  He was wrong.

  Logan did see something.

  Hell.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  LUCKY WASN’T EVEN sure sleep would help. He thought he might be past the point of return on that. Every muscle in his body, especially his butt, was aching, but all that was a drop in the muscle-aching bucket when it came to his head.

  Oh, man.

  He needed a handful of aspirin and a faster solution to this whole temporary-custody situation.

  Of course, sleeping in the hall on the floor hadn’t helped, but it’d been necessary to make sure Mackenzie didn’t try to go on the run again. Lucky had gotten especially suspicious that she might try that when she’d insisted on Mia and her sharing a room. And when Mackenzie had asked for an umbrella when it had started to rain. Lucky had made sure all the doors were locked up. And the umbrellas. But for insurance, he’d slept outside their room.

  Outside Cassie’s, too, since hers was right next to the girls’.

  Cassie had agreed to stay at the window all night to make sure Mackenzie didn’t try to slip out and shimmy down the gutter. Which meant Cassie, like Lucky, was getting little to no sleep.

  This was not a situation of misery loving company, though. Lucky didn’t want a repeat of Cassie’s panic attack so he hoped she’d managed to get in at least a couple of catnaps. In case she had, he’d stayed right next to the girls’ door so he could hear if there was any moving around in there.

  He hadn’t heard anything, thank goodness.

  That was one thing off his list. Make that two. The day before, it’d taken Lucky hours of talking to fix the problem with Wilhelmina—and the promise to take her for a drink at Calhoun’s Pub. Only then had she agreed to drop the charges against Mackenzie. However, dropping those charges was contingent on one more thing.

  Mackenzie’s apology.

  Thankfully, Wilhelmina hadn’t required that apology to be face-to-face. Probably because the woman was a little afraid of Mackenzie, but that meant Mackenzie would have to write it, and Lucky would have to deliver it personally to Wilhelmina. Lucky only hoped Mackenzie could write a convincing apology. Again, he was stereotyping here, but she didn’t look like star-pupil material.

  Lucky had given Mackenzie until morning to produce the apology. Whether she would do it was anyone’s guess, and he was too tired to guess anyway. If she didn’t do it, he might have to teach her a really bad lesson and let Davy arrest her. For a couple of minutes anyway.

  He heard footsteps on the stairs. Smelled coffee. And even though it was Logan approaching him with a cup in each hand, Lucky didn’t even mind an early-morning encounter with his brother if it meant one of those cups was for him.

  Both were.

  Logan handed him the two cups and sank down on the floor next to him. His brother was already dressed for work in his jeans, cowboy boots and dress coat. He probably wasn’t taking any pictures for magazine covers today, but he looked ready for a photo op.

  “Anything I can do to help you resolve this?” Logan asked.

  Lucky didn’t doubt it was a genuine offer. The coffee proved that it was. But Lucky was never sure what Logan’s motives were. For Logan, it was all about the family business. That was his bottom line. And somewhere along the way, Logan had forgotten about the family part of family business.

  Of course, Lucky was no better.

  It was a cow-eat-cow world when it came to McCord Cattle Brokers and the McCord brothe
rs.

  But Lucky got the feeling that Logan’s offer had more to do with avoiding bad publicity. It had to be all over town now about Mackenzie stealing that money, and the embellished amount was probably in the thousands—and might include diamond jewelry. Maybe even a black-market kidney.

  People in Spring Hill had good imaginations when it came to gossip.

  “If the girls are going to be here much longer, I’d look into getting a security system,” Lucky grumbled. Though it was the first time he’d ever considered it. Unlike gossip, the crime rate in Spring Hill wasn’t anything to worry about.

  “I could arrange something temporary,” Logan suggested.

  Even something temporary would take time to install, and Lucky preferred the energy to be spent on finding the girls’ next of kin. “Thanks, but no. What would help, though, is some aspirin for this headache,” Lucky said. “Got any?”

  Logan fished through his pocket and came up with a bottle of meds. Not aspirin, though. This was prescription stuff. Logan took out one of the pills and handed it to him. Lucky washed it down with the coffee.

  “Should I ask why you have headache meds like this?” Lucky threw out there.

  “No. And I won’t ask you if you plan to keep your hands, and other parts of yourself, off Cassie.”

  Lucky made a face. “Why would you care what happens between Cassie and me?”

  Logan didn’t answer. He took out something else from his pocket. Not his meds this time but rather a folded piece of paper. “Last night I had background checks run on the girls so I could help look for any of their relatives. I also had checks run on Dixie Mae and Cassie, just to make sure there wasn’t anything...out of place.”

  Uh-oh. Lucky had heard Logan use that term before. Out of place. It meant he was digging for dirt.

  “And before you start lecturing me about their privacy and such,” Logan continued, “I just wanted to make sure these girls weren’t part of some kind of scam. That maybe there wasn’t someone out there using them to get anyone’s money. Yours, Cassie’s or Dixie Mae’s.”