I’ve almost said it. Twice. I want to say it. The words are percolating under the surface, and the ache of it is almost unbearable. When she opens her eyes and catches me staring, I can’t fucking help myself. “I love you.”
She turns on her side and stares. “I know.”
“You know?”
She sighs. “I do. But I’m not sure I want you to.”
“Why not?”
I don’t think she’s going to answer. Her hesitation is palpable. Then her eyes close briefly. “Because everyone who has loved me has left.”
I trace the outline of her jaw with my finger. “I won’t.”
“You can’t promise that. All relationships end, even if it’s because of death.”
“You don’t want me to love you in case we live happily ever after, but then one of us dies when we’re like eighty?”
She lies on her back and stares at the ceiling.
“You want me to stop flying? Bronc riding?”
“I’m not going to tell you how to live your life. Besides, I have to admit, you being a pilot is sexy as hell. The bronc riding I could do without, especially after last night. But even if you did stop doing those things, it doesn’t mean you won’t get sick.”
I sit up. “You mean to say you’d rather go through life not loving anyone than try to live a happy life with the person who’s obviously your soul mate?”
Her lips turn up into a soft grin. “You think we’re soul mates?”
I shrug. “If you believe in that shit.” I push her hair behind her right ear, exposing her tattoo. “Tell me about this.”
“I wasn’t sure you’d noticed.”
“I notice everything about you, sweetheart. I researched the symbol. You feel lost?”
“Gee, whatever gave you that idea?”
I trace it. “When did you get it?”
“I was nineteen.”
“So after you met Piper.”
“I was glad we met back then, but in some way, I felt even more confused. I had a mother and she died. Even though I couldn’t remember her, I felt like I was somehow betraying her. My dad told me it’s what she would have wanted. He encouraged me to have a relationship with Piper. It just seemed forced. We didn’t know how to act around each other. So rather than become closer after our first meeting, we became more distant.”
“I’ve seen her around you, Amber. It truly seems like she wants you in her life. And with your dad gone, you can use every person who wants to rally around you.”
“I know. And I plan on having lunch with her when I go back. There are things I want to say to her that I wish I could have said long ago. Things I didn’t feel I could say until recently.”
“What things?”
“Do you think anyone ever gets too old to need a mother?”
I shake my head and smile. “No. And I think she’d be damn honored if you saw her as one. What’s changed? Why now?”
“It’s Josie. I’m no one to her—a stranger. Yet in some way, I feel like a mother to her. It’s made me realize that it’s not blood, or even a piece of paper, that bonds people together. It’s how you are with each other.”
“You’re going to make a great mother someday.”
She pushes me down and climbs on top of me. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but you’re going to make a great father, whether it’s to Josie or some other child.”
I pull her head toward me. “Less talking. More kissing.”
Just as my dick comes to life, Josie starts crying. Amber springs out of bed. “I’ll get her. I wonder if she’s going to roll over again.”
I lie back. “Someone needs to talk to her about her bad timing.”
“You’re not coming?”
“Not the way I wanted to.” I laugh at my own joke, then throw off the sheets and pull on my pants. “I’m right behind you.”
I’m playing with Josie on the floor while Amber gets some work done. We split shifts with her on Sophie’s days off. I’m thinking about what Amber said about me being a father one day.
I pick up a soft toy in the shape of a helicopter and fly it around her head. “You want to go up in a chopper, JoJo?”
“Oh, no,” Amber says from the doorway. She crosses the room and sits next to us. “You are not taking her flying.”
“I was hoping I could take both of you.”
“Fat chance.”
“You’re never going to go up in a helicopter again?”
Silence.
“How about I bribe you?”
“You bribe me? I don’t think you get how this whole sex thing works.”
I laugh. “You got me there. Come on, what do I have to do to get you back in a chopper?”
“Grow wings so we can fly out of it if it crashes.”
I smirk. “Can we live in reality for two seconds, please? Seriously, it’s my job. I can’t have a girlfriend who’s afraid of my job.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Good. Are you done working?”
“What did you have in mind?”
I pat Josie and stand. “I’m going out for a while.”
“Out,” she says as if it’s a bad word. “You mean you’re going to follow Jon again.”
“If I don’t follow him, I’ll never get anything on him.”
“You have money. Can’t you hire another private investigator?”
“Don’t think I haven’t tried. There isn’t a PI within two hundred miles who will touch this case with a ten-foot pole.”
“Not even for a lot of money?”
“You have no idea the lives my uncle and grandfather have ruined. Nobody wants to be the one to cross Joel Thompson’s only son.”
“Promise me you’ll be careful.”
“I promise.”
“That wasn’t very convincing.”
I sweep her up and into my arms, twirl her around, and then kiss her. “I promise, Amber. You don’t want me to get hurt. I get it. And I don’t want my getting hurt to hurt you. So I’m giving up the rodeo.”
“You can’t do it for me. You’ll regret it someday.”
“I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it for us. Besides, I’m getting too old to have my ribs broken so often.”
She wraps her arms around my neck. “An old man at twenty-six? What does that make me?”
“An old man’s hot woman.” I put her down. “I have to go.”
She picks Josie up and settles her on her hip. “We’ll miss you. Won’t we, JoJo?”
I stare. They’re perfect together. On a whim, I pull my phone out of my pocket and snap a picture, then I set it to my background.
I drive out to the lodge first and park next to Aaron’s cabin. He’s outside when I pull up. He eyes my swollen jaw. “I hope Jon looks worse than you do.”
“Speaking of my delinquent uncle, can I borrow your handgun?”
“Fuck, no.”
“I’m not going to kill him. I only need it for protection.”
“Where’s your piece?”
“I didn’t want Amber to see me take it. She would have freaked.”
“Rightly so. What are you planning?”
“I’m going back to my mom’s house. He’s been staying there since he got out, in the guest house. Thought I’d poke around.”
“And if he’s there?”
“I’ll wait until he leaves. Listen, man, I don’t want a confrontation. I just need to find out if he’s doing shit that can get him thrown back into jail. But, hey, if you want me to go in there unarmed…”
He shakes his head, frustrated. Then he goes inside and comes out with his gun. “Damn it, Quinn. You better not make me regret this.”
“Thanks.”
On the drive over, I plan my strategy. If someone does catch me, I’ll say I was coming back for some of my stuff. When I moved out last year, I left a lot of shit. Old clothes, hats, and boots—things I don’t wear anymore. But they don’t know that. It’s a good excuse anyway, and one that could
save my ass if anyone is watching the place for Jon.
When I get close, I veer off the road and pull into the woods to hide the truck. Then I hike the last half mile and jump the rear fence. I can’t tell if Mom is in the main house or not because she keeps her car in the garage. But Jon’s truck isn’t by the guest house. I watch from behind the big oak tree on the property line for a while, then decide I’m good to go. I stay near the fence and go around the side of the guest house. Even if Mom were home, she wouldn’t see me.
I get my key out, hoping she didn’t change the locks. It slips right in and turns. I walk through the door and say, “Anyone here? I’m picking up my shit.” I’m not stupid. I don’t want to be mistaken for a thief.
When nobody answers, I go from room to room. It’s nice as far as guest houses go. Two main bedrooms, two baths, a large kitchen/living room combo, and a decent-sized dining room. I stop at the door to my old room. It’s closed. Fuck. Is someone in there? Sleeping, maybe? My heart pounds as I turn the knob. But when the door opens, what’s inside shocks me. I haven’t lived here for almost a year, but the room sits virtually untouched. A pair of boots is on the floor. Even a shirt is hung over the back of a chair. It’s like I never left. Is she seriously holding out hope that I’ll return? I expected my stuff to be burned, or thrown out at the very least.
I don’t spend much time in here. This isn’t what I came for. I move to the next bedroom. It smells like Jon: smoke and booze. There are soiled clothes all over the floor and several dirty glasses on his nightstand. I sniff one—whiskey. Snubbed-out remnants of joints are in an ashtray. Nobody’s going to give a shit if he’s smoking pot, even if he is on parole. I need more.
I quickly riffle through his drawers, his closet, his bathroom… but nothing. I go to the kitchen and look through every cabinet. In the living room, I look in the large chest, on bookshelves, even under the damn couch. It’s not until I get to the dining room that I see something even remotely interesting. File folders. The one on top has three letters on it: DHR.
Fuck.
I open it and chills run through me. It contains pictures of all of us. Andie, Maddox, Aaron, Devyn, and me. When I come across a picture of Amber, my blood boils. I turn it over and see details scribbled on the back. Her address in Calloway Creek. Her birthdate. Her job.
Also included in the file is every supplier Devil’s Horn Ranch uses. Feed, hay, gas, water—everything down to the food delivery service for the lodge. Years ago, Jon and my grandfather poisoned the stream feeding the water sources on the ranch. Then they messed with the hay delivery and several horses got sick.
The man has seriously screwed with Maddox’s family over the years, yet somehow, he’s the one with a vendetta.
I hear a truck pull up outside. My instinct is to run out the back door. But when I realize it’s more than one truck, I stop. What if he talks to whoever is with him about something I can use against him? I make a split-second decision. I quickly mute my phone and turn it off vibrate. Then I set it to record, prop it on a windowsill behind the curtains, and go hide in my old room. I know it won’t get video, but it’ll record everything they say.
I go inside the closet and sit. Oh, shit. What if he doesn’t leave? What if he’s home for the day, and I’m stuck here? What if my phone makes a noise when the video ends or it runs low on battery? I pull the gun out from under my shirt and hold it in my lap. Then I wait.
Someone opens the door to the bedroom, and I point the gun in front of me. It closes and I slump back, relieved.
I have no idea how much time passes without having my phone with me. Has it been ten minutes? An hour? It feels like a fucking lifetime having to sit here in this dusty-as-shit closet. Muffled voices are all I hear, and the occasional boisterous laugh. Finally, a truck starts, but only one. Then a toilet flushes. A phone rings. The front door slams. And another truck starts.
I wait a while to make sure there are no more noises, then I get out of the closet. The house is clear. I get my phone and look at the video. It’s been recording for eighteen minutes. I glance out the windows to make sure the coast is clear and then listen to it. It sounds like two men other than Jon. When I realize what they’re talking about, I get giddy. They want drugs. And he’s going to sell it to them. They use terms like crack, black rock, flake, china white and brown sugar. I Google all of them. Hell yes. He’s dealing cocaine and heroin. But I didn’t find any. He must have had it with him.
He tells the men to wait there, then I hear a cabinet open. Kitchen? His voice gets louder. They apparently cut some coke and do some lines, then—I don’t understand all the jargon—but I think Jon takes ten thousand dollars from them. Jesus.
I put my phone into my pocket and go into the kitchen. I know I opened every cabinet, but I do a more thorough search this time. Still nothing. I listen to that part again. It sounds like he’s getting into the pots and pans. I open the lower cabinet to the right of the stove and stare. Pots. Pans. No drugs.
Then I see it. A piece of the cabinet floor appears out of place. I pull on it. Fuck me—it comes up. And underneath the false bottom is a shitload of drugs. “I got you, motherfucker.”
“You got nothin’,” Jon says behind me as the barrel of a gun gets pressed to my head. Then everything goes dark.
I awaken, a horrible ringing in my ears. I touch my head and come away with bloody fingers as I remember where I am.
“Rule number one,” he says. “Know your surroundings at all times. It’s all part of the game. You think I wouldn’t notice the file folder had been moved? Or that the pillow on the couch was in the wrong place? Once I knew someone had been here, I looked around more carefully and saw the phone in the window. That’s when I knew someone was still in the house. So I left and came back. Figured I’d catch one of my guys gone rogue, or a client tryin’ to get something on me.” He laughs. “Didn’t expect my own flesh and blood. You’d make a shitty PI.”
“Game? This is a game to you?”
“You little fucker,” Jon says, pacing around the kitchen. “You done put me in an impossible situation here.” I go to stand, but he pushes me down. “Where the fuck you think you’re goin’?”
“Do you not see the blood running down my face?”
“It’s your own fault.” He waves the gun in the direction of the table. Aaron’s gun. “Sit and put on the cuffs.”
“You’re going to handcuff me?”
“Do it.”
I get up and almost fall back down. I wonder if I have a concussion. I stumble to the chair and do as he asks. I hold up my hands. “There. Now what are you going to do with me?”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
He goes out of sight and comes back with a bag of drugs. A big one. Cocaine, maybe. He holds it up. “You’re going to sell this for me.”
“Fuck no.”
“It don’t seem like you have much of a choice. If you don’t do it, you leave me with no options. Now I got a hophead coming over, and you’re going to sell him this brick for twenty large. And I’m going to get it all on video.”
“Why?”
“Insurance.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Let’s just say I have a couple of men waitin’ right outside that ranch you love so goddamn much.” He throws the file folder in front of me and pulls out a picture of Amber. “She’s a pretty one, ain’t she? Well, she won’t be no longer if you refuse.”
I stand, but the gun comes out again. He tucks it into his waistband and punches me in the gut. I double over and sit back down. What the hell am I going to do? I can’t believe I got myself into this. I should have listened to Maddox. To Amber. “If I do this, you’ll leave her alone? You’ll leave everyone at DHR alone?”
He snorts. “Oh, you have a lot to learn, boy. In this business, it’s tit for tat. This deal buys you that pretty little thing. The next deal will buy you something else.”
My jaw drops. “You want me to sell your drugs? Indefinitely
? No way. One time only.”
“Then no deal.” He gets out his phone and makes a call. “You got eyes on her? Oh, good, she’s with the kid.”
My stomach rolls. I’ve never felt so goddamn hopeless in my life. “Hang up. I’ll do it.”
“Of course you will.” He puts his phone away and points a finger into my chest. “That’s the difference between you and me. I don’t give a shit about no one. It’s the only way to ensure survival.”
“Can we get this over with?”
“That’s the spirit. He’s on his way.”
For years—my whole adult life—I’ve strived to be different from them, to make people understand I don’t belong to this family. And now, because I was stupid, I’m going to lose everything. What’ll I tell Amber and the rest of them? Can I even tell them? It could put them in danger or make them complicit somehow. And suddenly, the future I thought was possible is yanked away, like the rug has come out from under me. I’ll have to move off the ranch, cut ties with everyone to keep them safe. Break up with Amber. Work for Jon.
Maybe there’s no escaping the name after all.
Josie should be glad when she finds out she isn’t my kid. Nobody should have to be a Thompson.
“Why are you even selling drugs?” I ask. “You have millions. It’s not like you need the money.”
“Money ain’t no good unless you have power.”
“And being a drug dealer gives you power?”
He chuckles. “Do you not see what’s goin’ on here? Do you feel like you have any power? Boy, you’re gonna come to learn how things work. It’s own or be owned.”
There’s a knock on the door.
Jon holds the gun to my temple. “We gonna have a problem?”
I shake my head.
“Good.” He removes the cuffs and props his phone on the bookshelf to record me. “I’m watching every move. You try somethin’ and the girl gets it. Understand?”
“I got it,” I say in his face.
“Enter,” he says loudly.
A black man comes into the house. He’s big. Scruffy. Scary. He eyes me. “You didn’t say nothin’ about nobody else bein’ here, J.”
Texas Roses (The Devil's Horn Ranch Series) Page 18