The Climax Montana Complete Collection

by Reece Butler

  “You’re not taking this seriously! What about your job. You’ve got to finish before—”

  “Not much left to do,” said Riley. “I’ll be done in a few days. Less if I get help. Some of those retired men are craftsmen.”

  “But—”

  “Enough!” blasted Travis. “Get your butt in that room and pack.”

  “What about Buster? If they hurt him—”

  “He’s coming with us. Now git!”

  She got.

  Jane ended up putting her clothes in a black garbage bag. She made sure to include the lovely dainties Riley had spread out on the bed in hopes of seeing her show them off. She had no time to dye her hair, but figured the more unkempt she looked, the better. There’d be time to do it when they stopped at a motel along the way. She dressed in the loosest, ugliest sweats and then looked around the room.

  She’d enjoyed sharing her bed with them. It wouldn’t happen at their parents’ home, of course. She was mortified enough that they knew she’d shared their sons.

  * * * *

  “J Bar C Ranch, Donny Adams speaking.”

  When the deep, respectful voice reached Riley’s ears, the anxious breath he’d been holding finally escaped. He’d escorted an excited but tired old lady home a few hours earlier. Unable to do anything to help Jane and Travis, he’d finished the touch-ups required, keeping his mind blank.

  He’d been alone before, lots of times, but never been lonely. He missed Janey with a deep ache he didn’t think could ever be filled. What he’d felt for Zarah wasn’t even puppy love in comparison. Being without Jane, unable to protect her, hurt!

  “Pops? What you doing out of bed?”

  “Got up to take a leak. About time you called.”

  “Trav’s bringing Jane home. Something happened, and she’s not safe here. We don’t want to bring trouble, but—”

  “Do we lock the gate tonight?”

  Riley could almost see his easygoing father straighten up. His voice had gone from relaxed to crisp in no time flat.

  “You don’t like to go out in the cold, Pops. Tomorrow’ll be fine.” He exhaled, scratching his head briskly with his free hand. “Uh, Jane told us who she is.”

  “A government agent eager to release senatorial pork barrel secrets that need to see the light of day?”

  “Nope.”

  “Dang. We need more of them whistleblowers.” He sighed. “She can’t be into drugs or human trafficking or you wouldn’t have a thing to do with her. So, what trouble is she dragging?”

  “Her father is Bertram Stark, a bastard with a shitload of bucks.”

  “Watch your language, Riley Adams!”

  He winced. “Sorry, Pops.” He paused, thinking of how much to tell. Pops might say things to someone to explain a point, whereas Dad never let on what he knew. Travis would want him to tell Pops only the basics. “Stark bartered Jane in a business deal to a son of a bitch.”

  “He did what?”

  “Stark will get government contracts if he hands Jane over to a man she’s terrified of. Travis and I won’t let him. We’re keeping Jane safe, and to do it she has to be at home.”

  “Dang right. You going to marry her? If she’s an Adams, we can protect her better.”

  Marry Jane, for real? Have her in his bed every night, for the rest of his life? His heart went into overdrive and his cock jumped eagerly. Jane seemed to like him. She certainly liked what he did in bed. Yet there was this damn devil on his shoulder whispering she might be faking, like Zarah. That if he asked Jane she’d turn him down, in public, and humiliate him. Just like Zarah.

  No, Jane wouldn’t do that. But could she stand living on a ranch?

  “Um…”

  “That would be a yes, or a no, Rye. ‘Um’ doesn’t cut it around here.”

  Riley swallowed, the action strangely painful.

  “Did you ask her?” said Pops, as patient as he’d been when teaching them how to tie their shoes. “And if you did, was her answer a heck, no! or more of a not ready yet?”

  Riley leaned against the wall. He cleared his throat, but couldn’t think of a reply that wouldn’t have him digging a deeper grave. He’d asked, but hadn’t really been serious. Or had he?

  “I see,” said Pops after a moment. Rye winced, hearing his disappointment. “You’re the one not ready yet, and the lady knows it.”

  “It’s complicated, Pops. Between her father and those tabloids, I—”

  “Is that Riley in trouble again?”

  It was a deeper, more confidence voice that spoke. If someone else had to hear this conversation, he was glad it was Dad, and not Mom. She would want every little detail, immediately.

  “It’s Rye, but he’s not the problem,” said Pops. “Trav’s bringing Jane home, and they’re trailing trouble.” The phone changed hands.

  “You got an ETA?”

  Half of his tension immediately evaporated. He blinked hard. He might be a grown man and tough as nails when he had to be, but Dad would always be there for him. Dad didn’t pussyfoot around. He cut to the chase, solved the problem, and moved on.

  “Two days, depending on the weather. Trav figured to stop in Colorado Springs tomorrow night, then get home late the next.”

  “What are we watching for?”

  “You know those tabloids?”

  “The ones that talk about alien abductions and gossip about people I don’t give a damn about?”

  “Yep. A picture of Jane’s sister was on the cover, but with Jane’s real name, Penelope Stark. Someone spotted her, took a picture, and posted it. She’s not safe in Port A, so Trav hauled her home.”

  “Son, nobody here knows Jane, by either name, or what she looks like. Even if some idiot wants to talk to them, there’s nothing to say.”

  “There’s a picture on the Internet of Trav and Jane in a lip-lock.”

  Silence.

  “Is your brother going to change her name to Jane Adams?”

  Riley grimaced at the thought of Travis marrying Jane, rather than him, but pushed it away. Their parents wanted grandchildren and didn’t care which son was the daddy as long as they got lots of time with the babies.

  “Nothing’s going to happen until Jane’s safe.”

  A grunt was the only reply.

  “Another picture shows Trav’s license plate and the brand on the door. Jane figures they’ll be going after whoever it’s registered to.”

  “That would be the J Bar C Ranch. If they put one foot on my land I’ll miss the toe of their boot by an inch. Maybe.”

  Dad was so accurate with a rifle he’d impressed some of Tom White’s sniper friends. But this was not a battle to be fought with bullets.

  “It’s not just the media. Jane’s afraid of what her father will do. She pleaded guilty to something she didn’t do, and wasn’t supposed to leave Massachusetts without permission. He wants her back, bad, to marry a bastard he’s picked out for her.”

  There was a pause. “How bad?”

  “Real bad.”

  “Tell me what he did so I’ll know to use buckshot or the bullwhip.”

  Dad would never let Jane know what he knew about her, not by his expression, tone of voice, or anything else. And Riley had to tell someone who would understand. “One of her father’s good buddies has enjoyed harassing her for years, touching her even though she hated it. Her father kept inviting the bastard to dinner, schmoozing with him, making her face him and smile as he patted her. Stark wants access to lucrative federal contracts. The bastard’s had his eye on Jane for a while. Stark traded her for the contracts. He’d make Jane’s life a living hell.”

  Silence. “Can I take them behind the barn and teach them a lesson they’ll never forget?”

  “You’re next in line behind me and Trav.”

  “That’ll do. I’m getting Tom White in on this. Expect him to call in the next few hours. We need pictures.”

  “I’ll send you the links.”

  “Take care of her, son.”


  “With my life, Dad.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “Your new cell phone will be delivered to the condo’s office this morning with the rest of the mail. It will work with the same number as that piece of junk you have in your hand.”

  Riley heaved a tired sigh into his three-year-old phone. Dad had contacted Tom White, who’d immediately called Texas. Riley had told the retired military man everything he knew. Tom had even drawn a few things out of Riley that he hadn’t realized he’d known about.

  “Thank you, sir. I haven’t known Jane for that long, but I care about her a lot. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

  “Oh, I think I might. I knew Dorothy was the one and only right off. It took me a while to get back to her, but knowing she was there kept me alive, and sane, those two years.” He chuckled. “Or as sane as a guy like me can be. But she’s a good woman. She puts up with me and my shenanigans, and that’s more than any woman should have to do.”

  “How are the Tees?”

  This time it was Tom who sighed. “If I’d known you lot would change Sebastian’s name into TN, to go with TJ, I would have named him Henry.”

  “You’d rather I call them ‘the clones’?

  “God, no! Just because they look so much alike doesn’t mean their personalities are the same. Tommy James is well-behaved and considerate most of the time, but Sebastian can be like a wildfire during a drought.”

  “It was Danny MacD and Lila who named him TN. They kept hearing you yelling ‘Se-Bas-Tee-En’ and they glommed onto the last two syllables.”

  “Oh, sure, blame it on the parent,” replied Tom with a laugh. “You’ll have your day, Riley. Once this little hiccup is over, you and Travis can settle yourselves down and raise your own family.”

  “Little hiccup? I told you what they want to do!”

  “There’s a lot of road between ‘want’ and ‘do,’ Riley Adams.” All trace of Tom’s humor had evaporated like spilt water in July. “I’ve already found out a few things about Bertram Stark and William Rankin. They’re associated with the type of people who certain government agencies like to keep a close eye on. Those agencies have been given a heads-up and will be shaking a few nasty trees. That’ll loosen the dirt around the roots where these types like to dig. An eye will be kept out for dirty fingers.”

  “I’m too wiped to follow all that, but I guess a bunch of someones are on the tails of the men wanting to harm Jane. That’s good enough for me.”

  “Think you’ll be able to grab a couple hours sleep now?”

  “Yes, sir. We’re going to owe you big-time for this. I don’t know how, but we’ll pay you back for everything.”

  “I enjoy having a challenge now and then. All I ask is that you help others when you can. If there’s something specific I think you can do for me, or for someone I’m helping, I’ll let you know.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “I’ll tell your family that we’ve spoken. Go. Jane needs you alert.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  As soon as he snapped his phone closed, a deep sense of weariness crashed down. Jane was in transit with Travis and Buster, the bad guys were being investigated, and good men were keeping an eye out at home.

  Jane would be safe.

  * * * *

  The pounding on his door had Riley up and moving before he opened his eyes. The noise came again, from the patio door behind him.

  Jane’s room. He’d slept in her bed because it was the closest he could get to her. He pushed open the curtains. The lady from the front office held out a package. She looked down, and grinned. Oh, God, if he was naked, he’d…sweat pants. He blew out a breath and opened the door.

  “I hear you need this. Anything we can do to help, just let us know.”

  He took the package, which must contain his super-spy cell phone. “Thank you, ma’am. I will.”

  “Good.” She gave him another look, one that said she was not impressed. “You’d best tell us how Jane is now and then or we’ll haul your Yankee ass all the way back to Texas and give you what for!”

  “Ma’am? Jane’s the Yankee.”

  “Don’t you sass me, boy!”

  “No, ma’am.”

  Her frown turned to a simper. “And next time you want to take a gal out on a date, you come to me. Y’hear?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She winked and was gone, clip-clopping up the sidewalk. Riley shoved the door shut and tossed the box on the bed. He scratched his head, chest, and balls on the way to the can. That done, he grabbed the box and plopped on the bed. He ripped off the packaging and a phone almost identical to his old one fell out. So did a note.

  Smash the other one and dump it in the garbage at the Whataburger when you have breakfast. Make sure you dispose of the battery safely.

  “Who says I’m having breakfast there?”

  He flipped it open. There were a few extra buttons, but otherwise it was the same. He was about to try one of the new buttons when it rang.

  “Yep?”

  “Good morning, Mr. Adams. You don’t know me and never will. Pay attention. After you shower and dress in more than green sweats, smash your phone, drive to the Whataburger and park in the last spot, nose in.”

  Riley looked down. How the hell did this bozo know what he was wearing?

  “Leave your passenger window fully open. When you come out you will find a package. Take your food back here to eat while you read what’s in the package. Leave the phone on Jane’s bed when you go. Do not take it with you. Do you understand the instructions?”

  “This thing have a camera in it or something? Are you spying on me?”

  “Mr. Adams, why don’t you do what you’re told and let us do what we’re good at? If you want proof of who I am working for, shall I tell you what you wrote in Marsha Taylor’s yearbook after kissing her behind the bleachers that April evening?”

  “What the—?”

  “We’re good at what we do, Mr. Adams. Trust us. Now, what are you going to do as soon as you hang up?”

  Riley was insulted, but not stupid. He complied, for Jane’s sake. And he hoped Jane never learned what he wrote in that yearbook. God, he was such a swaggering punk back then!

  “Get clean,” he said. “Smash old phone and leave new one on bed. Get breakfast, dump old bits in garbage. Bring food and package home. Read what’s in it while I eat. Will it self-destruct three minutes after I open the seal?”

  The man sighed into the phone. “Would you be happier if I said ‘yes’?”

  “Sorry. I got it. You’re a professional and I’d better do what I’m told.”

  “You expect Jane to, shouldn’t you do the same? Time to get going, Mr. Adams.”

  “Right. Thanks.”

  Riley snapped the phone shut. He pulled the covers to make the bed look reasonably neat, then placed the phone carefully in the center before returning to the bathroom. He closed and locked the door before stripping.

  “Now I have some idea of what Jane felt like with all those cameras.” A thought hit. “Shit! Are they going to bug the place while I’m getting the package?”

  He cranked the water on high and stepped in. Whatever they did to him didn’t matter as long as Jane was safe. If some agent wanted to watch him scratch his balls in the shower, he didn’t give a damn. Now, if Jane wanted to watch…

  * * * *

  A whole crew of elderly women had descended on Riley an hour after he digested both his breakfast and the instructions. He was rather disappointed the papers didn’t turn to ash. He took care of it himself. The best part was taking a ball peen hammer to his old cell.

  The ladies twittered like sparrows as they cleaned and polished. He was told to go for a walk while they made it look like they were visiting Jane. Since it would be his last walk on the beach, he was happy to go along with their orders.

  He kicked his boots off, left them at the bottom of the boardwalk and tromped to the surf. He’d always thought
the ocean had seagulls screaming all the time, but it was another thing he’d been wrong about. The beach had been peaceful all winter, until the so-called laughing gulls hit mating season. The sounds they made were nothing like a laugh. Whatever, it was one hell of a racket, so he headed west, away from town.

  The tide was high so no ghost shrimpers were pumping their tubes in the sand. Hands in his pockets, he strolled along, idly looking for shells for Jane. She’d finally relented and accepted a few things, but it was still hard for her to believe she’d be able to keep them.

  He wanted to get her something special. Not a fragile shell, but something that would last all her life. She loved that crazy store on Station Street that always had bubbles coming out of it. The owner had a pink car with eight-inch-long black eyelashes over the headlights. He could get Jane some aromatherapy soap, or those handbags she liked so much.

  No, that wasn’t it.

  “Face it, you dolt,” he muttered. “You want to buy Jane a ring. An engagement ring. But you’re too chicken to ask her to marry you.”

  Would it hurt to stop by a jewelry store? He’d peeked into a few while looking for stuff that Jane wanted for the condos. There wasn’t anything near as good within a couple hundred miles of Climax. He wanted a one-of-a-kind thing, something as special as Jane.

  Riley turned back, into the wind. He cell rang. Figuring it was Travis or one of his cousins, he answered it as usual.

  “What do you want now?” he demanded belligerently.

  “I see you are as uncouth as expected.”

  The cool, smooth voice had the same accent as Zarah. Stark?

  “Who is this?”

  “You have something I want, Mr. Adams.”

  Riley pulled the ear bud out of his pocket and jammed it into the specially made hole in his phone.

  About time, said the voice in his ear. It wasn’t Tom White or the man from that morning, but Riley wasn’t about to ask his name. I can hear everything either of you say, but only you can hear me. Talk slowly so I can feed you information. Get him angry if you can. He may let something out.