Blame it on Texas: Lightning in a Bottle (Kindle Worlds)

by Gina Ardito

  “At last count, an even dozen.”

  Bo pictured the scene in her head. Dad, her four brothers, Ian, Mitch, and five of the more boisterous brewery employees sprawled on the chairs, a spread of empty takeout food containers littering every flat surface, and each of them shooting up to demand answers from any stranger who dared walk into the waiting room.

  Crap. She had to get out of here. Fast.

  Chapter 18

  On his way to the Austin attorney’s office for another round of “She’s a bad mother; no, he’s a bad father; he cheated; she cheated, too,” Drew settled in to the back seat of the cab and checked his cell phone. He had three messages: two from Rosa, which was normal, and one from Mitch, which was not. A thousand worrisome thoughts pierced his brain, throwing him into a tailspin. What the hell?

  Bo. Something must have happened to Bo. With shaking hands, he scrolled to Mitch’s voicemail and hit play.

  “Drew, it’s Mitch. Listen…umm…First, let me say, Bo’s okay, but there was a huge fire a few hours ago down on State Street. A lot of the buildings went up, including the brewery. Bo was inside at the time. I repeat, she’s o-kay. Well, sort of. She’s in the hospital, but the doctors say she’s going to be all right. I thought you’d want to hear about it personally, rather than learning what happened when you get home. You can call me if you want to know more.”

  Ice chilled his veins. He replayed the message, seeking hidden notes of fear or panic in Mitch’s tone, but discerned nothing unusual. The man might as well have been giving him the local weather. He needed more information than a few carefully chosen words in a voicemail left sometime after midnight while he’d been asleep. He needed answers to the dozen questions flitting in his head. How did it happen? How was she, really? How long was she stuck and how did she escape? What kind of injuries left her okay, but in the hospital? Who found her? Who was with her now? Was she alone? Scared? Burned? What was Bo doing in the brewery at that time of night anyway? Well, honestly, he knew the answer to that question better than anyone. Without someone to tell her no, Bo would’ve slept in that damn beer hall. For his other questions, he had to go right to the source.

  He called Mitch, who answered on the first ring. “Drew?”

  “Mitch, what’s happening? How’s Bo?”

  “You got my message? She’s okay. Firemen got her out, rushed her to the hospital. She suffered some smoke inhalation, and the doctors had to stick a tube down her throat to get her breathing stable again. They’re keeping her overnight, but don’t worry. The family’s with her. All of ‘em. The brothers, Ian, Connie, half the employees from the brewery showed up. They’re all at the hospital, and her dad’s making sure she has the very best of everything. She’s in excellent hands.”

  Drew let out a relieved sigh. “She’s all right? You’re sure?”

  “I swear. She’s okay. She’s already chafing to get out and picking fights with anyone who tells her she can’t leave. She’s gonna be fine. I promise.”

  “I’m coming home.”

  “You don’t hafta—”

  “I’m coming home. ASAP.” After turning off the phone again, he stared at the traffic whizzing by on the MoPac, his head in a whirl and his heartbeat pounding her name in his ears. Bo. A fire. Bo. Jee-zus. Bo. He had to get to her, had to see for himself she was all right. He couldn’t think of anything else but Bo. Seeing her, holding her hand, hearing her breathe. He had to get to Bo. Damn the battling Olivers and their spiteful grab for their children in order to hurt each other.

  The cab stopped outside the glass-and-steel office building, and Drew shot the driver a twenty before rocketing out of the back seat. “Keep it.”

  He climbed the steps outside two at a time, pushed through the revolving door, took one quick glance at the crowd by the elevator bank and opted for the staircase. After racing to the third floor, he entered the office of Tobias Marshall, Esquire, and said a brisk hello to the receptionist.

  When he entered the board room where he’d spent hours yesterday listening to two grown adults scream at each other like schoolyard bullies, his patience had reached an end. “Okay,” he said to the two former spouses glaring daggers across the glass table. “Here’s the thing. You two have been sniping and snarling at each other for months, usually through us.” He waved his hand between his chest and Mr. Marshall, who sat beside his client, Mr. Oliver. “That stops now. You used to love each other. Whatever crimes and misdemeanors have gone on between you over the years are meaningless when it comes to your kids’ futures. If you can’t find one iota of the old soft feelings you used to share to do what’s best for your children right now, at this moment, then you’ve lost the last shreds of decency either one of you could’ve used to propel you into another relationship someday. You’ve got no humanity left in you, and I pity you both.”

  The couple looked at him, aghast, then faced each other. Mrs. Oliver jabbed a finger at her husband. “He cheated first. If he hadn’t taken up with his secretary—”

  “I don’t care,” Drew interrupted. “We’ve hashed and rehashed your ugly history over and over for months, and none of it makes either of you look good.”

  Mrs. Oliver gasped, and Mr. Oliver growled. “You wait just a minute, Garwood. You’ve got no right to speak to us like that. Tobias, are you going to allow him to insult my wife and me?”

  Tobias Marshall leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled near his lips. He remained mute, apparently content to take the role of amused spectator in this drama.

  That suited Drew fine. “I don’t know if it ever occurred to you two, but there are others affected by your continuous war. While I’m here listening to you try to out-bicker and out-accuse each other, the woman I care about is four hundred miles away, lying in a hospital bed after surviving what I’ve been told was a pretty bad fire. Rather than sitting by her side, making sure she’s going to be all right and thanking God she’s still walking this earth, I’m trying to negotiate who’ll be the better parent for your children. Now, I don’t expect you to give a damn about my personal life, but if you can’t see past your petty disagreements to do what’s best for your children—your children, for God’s sake!—when that’s where all of my energies are focused instead of on my own concerns, I don’t know why I’m bothering. In fact, I’ve decided I don’t want to be a part of this anymore.” He shot to his feet, grabbed his soft leather case, and heaved a sigh to help temper his volume to a more sedate level again. “I’m sorry, but I’m done. Mrs. Oliver, find yourself another attorney. Mr. Oliver, Mr. Marshall, I’m sorry for wasting your time this morning. If you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere else I need to be right now.”

  With a curt nod at his fellow counselor, who still said nothing, Drew strode from the room. In the hall, he fumbled for his cell and called Rosa. He barely gave her time to answer before he ordered, “Get me home now, no matter how much it costs. I don’t care if it’s by plane, car, or horseback. I need to get to Bo.”

  “Head to the San Marcos Regional Airport,” she said with cool confidence. “It’s on Airport Drive in San Marcos. The Sheehan private jet is on its way there.”

  “The Sheehan private jet? Who ordered that?”

  “Mitch and that brother of your girlf—Bo’s.”

  “You mean Quinn?” A thousand questions pounded his skull. Why would Quinn send a jet to get him home? Had Bo insisted? Or was her condition worse than Mitch had let on?

  “I guess. Mitch said he’ll text you the plane’s location at the airport once it lands.”

  “How soon will that be?”

  “They only took off a few minutes ago, so you’ve got plenty of time to finish up with the Olivers—”

  “I quit.”

  “I’m sorry. What?”

  “I quit. Told Mrs. Oliver to find another attorney.”

  Silence reigned on the other end of the phone, and Drew used the break to return to the lobby. When Rosa still didn’t speak after the two flights down the stairs, he promp
ted her. “Hello? Rosa?”

  “I’m here. Just…thinking. How’d she take it?”

  “Who? Mrs. Oliver? To be honest, I didn’t stick around to find out. I announced I was done and high-tailed it out of the office to call you to get me home.”

  His phone beeped, and he checked the screen to learn the identity of the new caller. Tobias Marshall. Did the man want to share his own displeasure with Drew for his abrupt departure? Fine. This would be quick, and it gave him the perfect out to avoid Rosa’s censure, at least, temporarily. “I’ve gotta go, Rosa. Thanks, and I’ll be in touch when I land.” He switched calls with the push of a button. “Hello?”

  “Garwood! Just thought I’d let you know we’ve got a custody agreement ironed out. If you’re still close by, you might want to come back here and finalize this before these two forget their anger at you and start sniping at each other again.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope. I have no idea if that stunt you pulled was for real or a gag to shake some sense into them, but it sure worked that way. You coming back?”

  Why not? He had a few hours before the jet would get to him. It would take five minutes to pack up his stuff from his hotel room and check out. And maybe, finishing the Olivers’ debacle would distract him from his worries about Bo. “I’ll be right up.”

  ****

  Three hours later, the Olivers had ironed out their divorce agreement, and Drew was seated in the luxurious Gulfstream on his way back to Bo.

  When the jet landed early in the evening, Mitch stood waiting in the terminal, his hands clasped in front of him. “I take it you had a nice flight.”

  Drew didn’t bother with formalities before diving into the only question that mattered. “How is she?”

  Mitch headed toward the exit, and Drew followed. “She’s awake and breathing on her own. Dr. Hackett says she’ll be fine, but still wants to keep her overnight to be on the safe side.”

  “So, why the jet? I mean, don’t get me wrong. It’s a sweet way to travel, but I sincerely doubt she ordered you to have me whisked back here because she’s come to her senses about us.”

  Mitch offered a sly smile. “Patience. She’s coming around, but it’ll probably take a bit more convincing before she realizes how much she cares about you.”

  “Uh-huh.” Drew would’ve liked to argue, but sensed it would do no good, so he shifted his suitcase and strode through the parking lot behind Mitch.

  “Actually, it was her father who insisted on the corporate jet.”

  He stopped in the middle of the street. “Her father?” A car horn blared behind him, and he jerked into action again. “Why would her father care when I got home?”

  “Because he wants to meet you and Bo’s been putting him off.”

  “I don’t even know how to answer that.”

  “I’ll explain it on the way to the hospital,” Mitch replied as he looked around the vast parking lot, at the various cars and trucks in their slots, with confusion. “Now, where did I park?”

  Drew thought back to the first time he met Bo, when Mitch misplaced the car the last time, and unease struck him hard. “Please tell me you didn’t leave it running out here.”

  “Nope. I won’t make that mistake again, that I can promise you.” He held the key fob up high and flicked the unlock button. Thank God a set of headlights flashed from about three rows away, and a horn beeped. With a sigh of relief, he strode to the waiting car and climbed inside.

  On the way to the hospital, Mitch explained how Quinn had spilled the beans regarding Drew’s former relationship with Bo. “She didn’t want to admit you’d already broken up, didn’t want her dad to be able to use that against her in some way, so she minimized your past relationship and slightly exaggerated your current standing, if that makes any sense.”

  Drew slowly shook his head to allow the idea to take root, but it simply floated in the ether. “Can you make what you’re trying not to say a little clearer for me?”

  “She claimed you were friends and business associates, not lovers.”

  “Ah.”

  “They didn’t believe her, though. They think she’s trying to protect you, so her father figured sending the jet was the perfect way to get you home while she was still in the hospital. This way, he could take your measure without her interference.”

  “Uh-huh.” He said nothing more, his brain muzzy from travel, the events of the last several hours, his concern for Bo and what he’d finally say when he saw her again.

  At the hospital, he practically left Mitch in the dust as he raced to finally see her for himself. When the elevator doors slid open on the fifth floor, he walked straight into a crowd of men loitering in the hall. He plunged into the melee in search of a friendly face and made a beeline for Ian.

  “How is she?”

  “Drew. You made it.” Ian turned to face the others. “Everybody, this is Drew.”

  “You’re Drew?” A brute of a man with lots of height and muscle and wisps of blond hair dusting the top of his bullet-shaped head pushed forward to stare him down. He exuded arrogance and strength—a bull with human features. “Malcolm Sheehan,” he introduced himself, his expression stony. “I’m Bo’s father.”

  Drew kept his gaze level on the patriarch’s face. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Sheehan. Thanks for the use of the jet.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m sure Mitch already told you we had an ulterior motive in getting you back here tonight.”

  “Yes, sir, and I’ll be happy to talk to you at length—after I see Bo.”

  “Over my dead body.” Mr. Sheehan planted his hands on his hips, blocking Drew from pushing forward.

  The rest of the burly men stepped up behind him, their faces wearing similar looks of hostility. Bo’s brothers.

  “What my friend means,” Ian said, “is the sheriff wants to see you. Said for us to send you over as soon as you got here.”

  “Cooper? For what?”

  “That’s what we wanna know,” Brother Number One replied.

  “Mitch told us your family used to own all that land,” Brother Number Two added. “Kinda strange how the minute you go to Austin, a fire destroys half the buildings down there. If that isn’t enough to rouse questions, the sheriff asks for the brewery’s security tapes, Mitch turns ‘em over, and bam! A coupla hours later, he’s arresting your brother and looking for you.”

  Icy surprise washed over Drew, and he stepped back. Wade? Arrested? Had he set the fires? Good God, no. He couldn’t have. Could he? Family loyalty warred with concern for Bo, and he realized this was the moment she’d feared when she’d told him goodbye. He needed no burst of clarity to understand where his loyalties belonged. “I’ll see Bo first then go to the sheriff’s office.”

  “No, you won’t. You’ll go see the sheriff. If you’re still a free man after that…” Her father shrugged.

  A free man? Did they think Cooper planned to arrest him? For what? “Are you insinuating I had something to do with what happened to Bo?”

  “What would you be thinking right now?” Brother Number Three demanded. “If it was your sister fighting for her life in a hospital bed? Again? You oughta be grateful we haven’t kicked your ass yet. I love Bo to pieces, but she sure has lousy taste in men.”

  Drew directed his question to the two men he knew: Ian and Quinn. “Do you honestly think I’d do anything to hurt her?”

  “Not intentionally maybe,” Quinn said.

  “The fire started around midnight,” Brother Number Three said. “Maybe you didn’t realize she planned to work late last night. Maybe you just meant to destroy all the buildings on the land that used to belong to your great-granddaddy without actually injuring any of the people involved. Maybe you and your brother have been nursing resentment about losing your heritage for a while, but couldn’t afford to recover your ancestral lands honestly. How much do you make with your backwoods country law firm anyway? I bet it isn’t enough. And your brother drives a delivery truck. You pro
bably figured you’d romance Bo into giving you access to the brewery, pass all the security info on to your brother, who’d set a coupla fires at just the right time in just the right places to do the most damage. Scare her and the other property owners out of there quick and you could swoop in and grab all that land for a song. Plus, you’d have a hell of an alibi, being out of town at the time.”

  Drew’s hands curled into fists. Before he could throw a punch, though, Ian, the voice of reason, clapped a hand on Drew’s shoulder, standing behind him as if to bolster him with his support. “That’s enough. You’re all jumping to conclusions. You do know Drew’s a lawyer, right? And he represents the brewery. There could be any number of reasons Cooper wants to see him right away that have absolutely nothing to do with arresting him for being involved in setting the fire.”

  As defenses went, Ian should keep his day job. Still, Drew appreciated the man would dare to challenge the rabid Sheehan clan on his behalf.

  “Go talk to Cooper,” Ian said and nudged him with an elbow.

  Drew offered a curt nod of thanks but didn’t budge. “Not ‘til I see Bo.”

  “Oh, for the love of Mike,” her dad muttered. “You are one stubborn son-of-a-gun.”

  “I’m also brutally honest, and I happen to care about your daughter. I would never do anything to hurt her—physically, emotionally, or financially. I know how much that brewery means to her.” He added that same steady stare to his statement until three of them looked away, shuffling their feet in obvious discomfort.

  Never breaking his locked gaze on Drew, Malcolm Sheehan snapped his fingers at one of his brood. “Take him in there, Patrick.”

  “But, Connie’s in there now,” Brother Number Three, real name Patrick, replied.

  Drew moved forward to prompt him into action. “I doubt she’d mind sharing.”

  Ian shook his head. “No, you don’t get it. The doctor only wants one person with her at a time so she doesn’t get exhausted. Quinn was with her when she first woke up, Mitch saw her before he went to pick you up at the airport, and now, Connie’s in there. No one’s allowed to stay more than ten minutes.”