The Bribe: Calamity Montana - Book 1

by Nash, Willa

  Of course, the ex had a string of excuses when his superiors hauled him in for questioning. Turns out, Jennifer had been blackmailing him for years. She’d agreed to stay silent about an unsolved sexual assault he’d committed in college in exchange for information.

  And Blake didn’t only find the ex.

  He met with Lucy’s producer and after five minutes decided the guy was as greasy as a shop rag after an oil change. So he investigated Scott Berquest.

  Lucy had known that Scott had kept Meghan as his mistress. What she hadn’t known was the many other women he’d lured into his bed. Blake discovered a trail of scorned women, nearly all of whom were former employees of Lucy’s record label. Scott’s favorite hunting ground had been Lucy’s shows.

  He’d fucked—and fucked over—almost all of her backup singers.

  Including Jennifer Jones.

  Scott would promise them stardom. He’d promise an album and gush over their talent, anything to get them in bed. And when he’d had his fill—something that seemed to last anywhere from two weeks to three months according to the women Blake spoke to—Scott would fire them.

  And the bastard would blame it on Lucy.

  He’d tell the woman it was Lucy’s request and as the headliner, she was in charge.

  He’d probably told Jennifer that she would have made it big if not for Lucy Ross.

  When I’d told Lucy the news, it had been in the kitchen while she’d been making dinner. She’d picked up a plate and smashed it on the floor.

  I’d offered to call the label and report the news, but she’d insisted on doing it herself.

  Blake had returned to California and was still refusing to let us pay him for his time. His boss, Austin, wasn’t much help either.

  With Jess’s report complete and stating that Jennifer’s death had been a justified police shooting, the case was closed. Permanently. It was another step to putting this behind us.

  And today, I was taking one more.

  I turned off the street and eased down my driveway, the crate rattling beside me as I parked in the garage beside Lucy’s Rover.

  “You ready for this?” I asked my new puppy as I shut the truck off.

  She whined and looked at me with brown eyes too big for her little face. When I didn’t move, she gave me a little bark.

  “Remember your job here, okay? Don’t pee on her.”

  That earned me another bark.

  I got out of the truck, my pulse racing as I rounded the tailgate for the passenger side. Then I hefted out the crate, not caring about the ache in my side. My nerves were too jacked to feel much other than excitement. With the puppy loaded, I walked inside through the mud room off the garage. I didn’t bother with my boots.

  “Lucy!” I called. “Can you help me a sec?”

  “Coming,” she called back.

  Deep breath. God, I hoped this wasn’t a mistake. I knew the question I was about to ask was the right one. I knew she’d say yes. Mostly, I was worried she wouldn’t like the dog.

  She rounded the corner from the living room and walked through the kitchen. She was barefoot and wearing jeans. Her gray V-neck sweater was too big and draped over her shoulder, revealing the strap of her neon-orange bra.

  She was stunning. And the smile on her face nearly dropped me to a knee then and there.

  Lucy had lost some weight these past two weeks, thanks to stress and sleepless nights. Her cheeks were hollower than normal. But for the past two days, she’d seemed to regain her appetite, and she snored quietly into my side as she slept. The dark circles under her eyes were fading.

  “Are you okay?” The smile on her face fell, probably because I was about to have a damn heart attack.

  “Yeah. But wait right there.” I raised a hand before she came closer.

  Her steps stopped beside the island as she drawled, “Okay.”

  I turned to the crate and unlocked the latch, then stretched inside to retrieve our two-month-old German shepherd puppy.

  The puppy’s collar dinged as she wiggled, her tongue darting out to lick my hands. When I put her on the floor, she instantly scrambled, her paws struggling to find traction on the smooth marble tile, but once she had a grip, she took off.

  And ran straight away from me and into the kitchen.

  Lucy gasped and dropped to a crouch, catching the puppy as she jumped onto her hind legs.

  Tail wagging, tongue licking—a puddle of pee forming beside Lucy’s feet—the dog was everywhere.

  And I stood and waited for my girl’s reaction.

  Lucy’s eyes flooded. “Is she for real?”

  “If you want her.”

  “Yes.” She beamed, laughing as she scratched the puppy’s ears. “She’s perfect.”

  “Good.” I crossed the distance between us and crouched down with Lucy, the dog bouncing between the two of us. “Let’s take her for a walk. Grab some shoes.”

  Lucy nodded and rushed to step into some boots in the mud room while I tossed a wad of paper towels on the piddle puddle and picked up the puppy before she could disappear deeper into the house and find a shoe to chew on or poop in.

  With Lucy busy with her boots, I dug out the leash from the crate and clipped it onto the puppy’s collar.

  Along with something else.

  “Here.” I handed over the leash and let Lucy lead us to the front yard.

  “She’s so sweet,” Lucy said as we meandered. The puppy’s nose was pressed into the grass, sniffing as she took in her new home. “Thank you.”

  “Welcome.” I laced my fingers with hers. “How was your day?”

  “Better now.” She smiled up at me and stood on her toes for a kiss. “Yours?”

  “Busy.”

  We walked, hand in hand, enjoying the evening glow and the cool October air. The tinkling metal of the puppy’s collar rang across the yard, and I waited for Lucy to notice. I followed as she walked behind our dog, in our yard, at our house.

  I’d refused to let her step foot inside the farmhouse again. After it had been cleared as a crime scene and cleaned of blood and gore, I’d gone over alone and packed her things.

  She hadn’t protested.

  Around us, the leaves were orange and yellow. They’d started falling this week and my boots ruffled those on the grass as we walked.

  As I waited.

  “You’re quiet.” She nudged my elbow with hers. “What’s up?”

  I simply shrugged. If she knew how loud my heart was beating, she’d know the reason I couldn’t speak.

  The tinkling continued as the puppy pulled on the leash, going left, then right, leaving no blade of grass unsniffed. Then finally, she plopped down on the lawn and sprawled, her little teeth chewing at a leaf.

  Lucy smiled down at her. “What should we name—”

  Her sentence cut off as the solitaire diamond ring on the puppy’s collar caught the fading sunlight.

  I bent and fished it off the puppy’s collar, and since I was close to the ground, I stayed on one knee.

  “Oh my God.” Lucy’s hand flew to her mouth. “Duke.”

  “What would you say to a bribe?”

  She laughed. “The terms?”

  “Marry me and I’ll give you this ring.”

  “That’s it?”

  I fought a smile. “And I’ll love you for the rest of my life.”

  She tapped her chin, pretending to think about it for a moment. Then she dropped to her knees and framed my face with her hands. “I love you, Sheriff.”

  “That a yes?” I didn’t wait for an answer before taking her left hand from my cheek and sliding the ring onto her finger.

  “That’s a yes.”

  The last word was barely out of her mouth before I sealed my lips on hers. I kissed her like I’d kiss her every day. Like I’d love her every day.

  With everything I had.

  The kiss was cut short, thanks to the dog. She yipped and bounced at our thighs, demanding to be included. I petted her ears as
Lucy pulled away, laughing and swiping tears from the corner of her eyes.

  “I was going for a cheesy proposal. Something your dad would have done for your mom. Not sure I got there but . . .”

  “It was perfect.” Lucy’s hands skimmed over the puppy’s soft fur. “He’d be proud.”

  “What should we name her?” I asked. “Jade?”

  Lucy laughed. “How about Cheddar?”

  Epilogue

  Lucy

  Four months later . . .

  I was standing in the middle of the Calamity High School gymnasium in utter shock.

  The rafters, the walls, and even the basketball hoops seemed to be cheering as I let the last note of the national anthem ring through the air. The sound of applause was deafening. The bleachers shook beneath the weight of hundreds of spectators on their feet. Clapping and whistles echoed off the shiny yellow floor.

  Just like they did for the football team, the Calamity community showed up and showed up big to support the basketball team.

  This was the third time I’d sung the country’s anthem for a home game, and with each, the crowd got into it even more. Or maybe that was just me.

  I spun in a circle, giving everyone a wave, then walked toward the end of the gym as the Cowboys jogged by in their warm-ups.

  “Good luck.” I raised my hand for a high five as the coach passed me on his way to the bench.

  “Great job, Lucy!” someone hollered from the stands.

  “Thank you.” My cheeks were flushed and my spirits soaring as I climbed the stairs, slid into my row and sat in the empty seat beside Duke.

  “You got ’em pumped tonight.” He kissed my cheek. “Sounded great.”

  “Show off,” Everly teased on my other side.

  I laughed and elbowed her as I took the bottle of water Duke had waiting and gulped it down.

  The sounds of dribbling basketballs, squeaking tennis shoes and spectator chatter surrounded us, chasing away the last of my nerves.

  I wasn’t sure why I got nervous, but three times in a row, my stomach had been in knots when I’d stood behind the microphone. The anxiety was probably because I didn’t perform as much as I once had. Or because the faces smiling back at me were familiar. Or because I didn’t want to let down a single person in this community, the kids especially, with a subpar introduction to the game.

  The reason aside, by the time I’d finished my bottle of water and the buzzer had sounded, signaling the start of the game, my feet were no longer bouncing and my hands had steadied.

  It was the end of February and the Cowboys were poised to head to the playoffs for the State Class C Championship. There were only two home games left until the tournament started and they were penciled into the calendar at home. Duke and I had been to every home game this season. If the Cowboys made it to the championship, we’d caravan with the rest of Calamity to Bozeman to watch the final game.

  “Do you want something from concessions?” Duke asked.

  “Nachos and cheese pizza, please.”

  Everly leaned forward. “I’ll take the hot dog she really wants but can’t eat.”

  “Brat.” I elbowed her again.

  “Be back.” Duke dropped a kiss to my lips and stood, returning waves and handshakes as he made his way down the stairs and disappeared to get our meal.

  I rubbed my belly, not sure if the churning was still from nerves or if my hormones were making me sick. Morning sickness seemed to hit me hardest in the evenings, go figure. But at almost ten weeks pregnant, my doctor had assured me the nausea would soon begin to fade.

  In the meantime, I craved the foods and beverages I couldn’t have. Hot dogs. Coffee. A cold ham and turkey sub sandwich. And sushi, not that we had a sushi place in Calamity, much to Everly’s dismay.

  “Ooh, there’s Kerrigan.” She pointed five rows below ours where Kerrigan was waving at us from her seat beside her parents.

  She held up her fingers, thumb to her ear, pinky to her lips, and mouthed, “Call me.”

  Everly and I both nodded.

  The three of us had become good friends over the past four months. Kerrigan had been incredibly understanding after the incident at the farmhouse—and the fact that I’d lied to her about my identity—and had let me out of my lease.

  I’d still paid her through the end of our agreement, despite moving in with Duke before the wedding. And though the farmhouse sat empty at the moment—maybe it was cursed—Kerrigan did have a new tenant in another one of her properties. Everly.

  Kerrigan had cleaned up the studio apartment above the space she’d been converting into the women’s gym and Everly had been in need of a new address.

  My best friend and I had lived together all our lives. That wasn’t changing.

  Our lives in Nashville were over. Everly hadn’t even returned to pack her things. We’d had our belongings shipped to Calamity—on the label’s dime. They’d been kissing our asses these past few months, ever since Blake had discovered Scott’s behavior.

  Just thinking that asshole’s name made my nostrils flare.

  Maybe if he’d come clean, we would have learned about Jennifer before it had escalated so far. Maybe we could have prevented Meghan’s death. But he’d used Jennifer and tipped her fragile mind over the edge.

  Considering all that she’d put me through, pitying her was an odd emotion to accept. So I did my best not to think about how differently things could have been and focused on making the best of a terrible situation.

  When I’d found out about Scott’s behavior with my backup singers, I’d made a phone call to Sunsound’s CEO. I’d told him that if I wasn’t let out of my contract, penalty free, I’d take my information on Scott to the press—to every morning, evening and nightly news show that would let me—and drag his and the label’s name through bison shit.

  He’d agreed immediately, fired Scott—whose wife, I’d learned, was in the process of divorcing him and taking every penny of his worth—then offered both me and Everly an album deal.

  Everly had declined. Whatever desire she’d had to be a professional singer had vanished. Whenever I asked her about it, she changed the subject. Whenever I invited her to sing with me and the band at Jane’s, she invented conflicting plans.

  But I could understand her feelings. I’d shut myself off from the music for a while too, and maybe it would come to her in time.

  Maybe she just needed someone to inspire her to sing again, like Duke had for me.

  I’d walked away from Sunsound too and into the arms of their biggest competitor. Last week, I’d inked a two-album deal with one of the top country music record labels in the country and this time, the contract was on my terms. My songs with my arrangements would be recorded in my new studio, the one Duke and I were adding on to the house.

  I had no deadline or pressure to write. When I was ready, I’d record. There’d be no tour. No press exhibitions. Just me and the music. Any funds they would have reserved for a concert tour would be spent on marketing.

  If I had a few hits land on the radio, I’d call it a success. The fame and flash of entertaining had lost its appeal for me, much like it had Everly, but I wasn’t ready to give up the music.

  The only concerts I’d be performing would be here in Calamity. At least until after the baby was born.

  Duke strode across the floor, his arms loaded with food. His faded jeans molded to his bulging thighs with every stride. His biceps strained at his sleeves. My stomach growled and I licked my lips—for the man and the food.

  My appetite for him never seemed to be satisfied, which was probably why we’d gotten pregnant less than a month after we’d married at the courthouse in town.

  Everly had been my maid of honor. Travis had been Duke’s best man. I’d worn a white, sleeveless satin gown, the dress sleek and sexy and elegant and simple. The neckline had come to my collarbones in the front, but the back had opened in a plunging scoop that revealed the length of my spine. Duke had stunned in a charcoal sui
t that I’d ordered custom made from a tailor in Bozeman. I’d ripped that suit off Duke’s body without remorse hours after the judge had pronounced us husband and wife.

  He was delicious, my husband, whether he was wearing Italian silk or American flannel.

  “Here you go, Ev.” He tossed her two hot dogs wrapped in foil when he reached our seats.

  “Thanks, babe,” I said, shoving a chip overloaded with gooey cheese into my mouth.

  “So good,” Everly moaned.

  I waved off her bragging. “What did you do today?”

  “Not much.” She shrugged. “Cleaned. Did a load of laundry. Got married.”

  “That’s ni—” My brain screeched to a halt.

  Duke leaned forward, a bite of pizza showing in his gaping mouth. “What did you say?”

  “I got married.” She wadded up the foil wrapper from the hot dog and stood. “I’ll tell you all about it later. Thanks for the hot dog.”

  “But—”

  “Bye.” She patted me on the shoulder as she shuffled past our knees, then did the same to Duke.

  He swallowed his bite. “Did she say married?”

  “I think so?” I could only stare as Everly’s dark hair swished down her back as she descended the stairs. “Maybe it was a joke.”

  She reached the base of our section, her gaze searching until it landed on her target. She lifted her hand and waved to three familiar faces. Travis. Savannah.

  And Hux.

  “I’m thinking that wasn’t a joke,” Duke muttered.

  Hux kissed his daughter on the cheek, then left her behind as he strode to meet Everly, taking her hand and leading her to the exit.

  My paper boat of chips nearly slipped from my grip. I caught it at the last second, but not before a blob of nacho cheese landed on the calf of my jeans.

  “That spill was on Everly,” I mumbled, taking one of the many napkins Duke had brought with the food. “You don’t think . . . Everly and Reese?”