Bounty

by Kristen Ashley

“Let you in and you can take a look around,” Deke replied. “Know Max gave you the plans and sent you some pictures but figure you need to get the lay of the land. You do that, I gotta take Jussy to her room. You’re gonna have to give us a few minutes, brother. After that, she’s gonna be with us, not out of either of our sight, not even in her bedroom. You with me?”

  Cal studied Deke a beat before he nodded.

  Deke looked down at me. “You with me?”

  Me not hanging out in the room where I got strangled without Deke there with me?

  I was totally with him.

  “I’m with you.”

  That was when Deke nodded, took hold of me again, this time with his arm around my shoulders, and he turned us to the house.

  And that was when all thought of Deke’s chest, his stomach, ass, legs, cutoff fleece shorts, gentle morning mood and Cal’s miraculous change due to the love of a good woman went out of my head as I stared at my front door.

  My house was beautiful on the outside. All those windows. All that stone. That arched doorway. The flagstone walk that led from the graveled drive to the front door set in wide but lazy and meandering, curving here and there randomly. The old pines and aspen undisturbed around the front, the selection of the ones left standing so perfect I would not need a lot of landscaping. All of this making it seem like the house had been there forever. Like it grew up among those trees, not as it was, having been carved into them.

  I concentrated on that, not the sick curl of fear in my belly.

  I was there with Deke and Cal. Cal was going to give me a kickass security system. I had people around me who I had not known long but even before crisis hit, they’d shown they were good people and were going to be great friends.

  This was my place, my space, my sanctuary, my oasis. I’d chosen it out of pure instinct and I’d chosen well.

  And no asshole fuckwad was going to take that away from me.

  This thought I must have communicated with my body somehow because I felt Deke give my shoulders a squeeze before he muttered, “That’s it, gypsy.”

  I drew in breath and Deke jiggled his keys in his hand to find mine.

  We stopped at the front door. He let us in. I felt Cal move in behind us.

  Straight away, Deke headed us toward my bedroom.

  I noted the light was different because the big window that was in the space where my dad’s collection was going to be was boarded up.

  It was weird, the guy came through that window, making all that racket. Much easier, I would think, to bust through the windows at my front or back door.

  Deke didn’t give me a chance but to glance at it.

  He moved me right to my bedroom, attached to him, his arm strong around my shoulders, my thumb back in his belt loop.

  We made it to my bedroom, sidling in on a connected slant, and Deke stopped us a couple of feet inside.

  I instantly felt a tingling in my scalp, a memory of being dragged by my hair to my bed.

  The next second I took in the room.

  Except for fingerprinting powder on the nightstand, the lamp still overturned, it just looked like I’d gotten out of bed and that was it.

  On that thought, Deke let me go and moved directly to the lamp. He righted it and turned to the bed. In one sweep of his long arm, the heavy down comforter went sailing to the floor at the foot of the bed. He then grabbed a pillow and shook it out of its case.

  “Deke,” I whispered.

  He tossed the naked pillow to the floor, the empty case to the bed and looked to me, reaching for another pillow.

  “Got extra sheets?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  “Get ’em,” he ordered. “Hurry, want you right back.”

  I swallowed and nodded again.

  Then I went to the fabulous laundry room Deke gave me, set my travel mug aside and got the extra sheets.

  By the time I got back, the pillows were all nude and on the floor and he was yanking the flat and fitted sheets off the mattress.

  He gathered them up and headed my way, stopping for only a second to say gently, “Start making the bed, Jussy.”

  I nodded yet again.

  He moved out of the room.

  I went to the bed, dropped the folded sheets on top and just stood there, staring at it.

  I understood why Deke left me in there alone but with the knowledge he’d come right back. I also understood why he wanted me back in my house sooner rather than later so I didn’t build on the rational fear I had of a space that was mine, making it irrational and insurmountable.

  But I wished he hadn’t gone.

  Because if I tried really hard, I could hear the gurgling noises I made while attempting to breathe with that asshole’s hand around my throat.

  And for some reason, I tried real hard and heard them.

  I stopped hearing them practically before I started because Deke was back in a flash and he moved right into me, close, and grabbed a pillowcase.

  I forced my mind off shit that would fuck with it and onto working with him and together we made my bed.

  When we were done, I was on one side, the side closer to the windows, Deke on the other. He barely put the last pillow into place before he bent low, and using the hem, he wiped away the black fingerprinting dust with the inside of his white tee.

  “Deke, that might stain,” I told him.

  “Then the shirt goes in the trash,” he told me, straightening and doing it pulling out his phone.

  He touched the screen and put it to his ear while I stood there watching him.

  “Jim-Billy,” he said, paused then went on, “I know what time it is. I’m at Jussy’s. She’s hangin’ inside with me while I work and she doesn’t have any furniture. Need you to make some calls, round up something comfortable, chair, couch, don’t give a shit just as long as whoever donates it doesn’t care it gets drywall dust and wood slivers on it. Bring it up soon’s you can.” Another pause then, “Right, man. Thanks.”

  He shoved his phone in his back pocket and I watched him round the bed and move to the French doors. I pivoted with him so I was in the position to continue watching as he went out to my deck, grabbed one of my Adirondack chairs and came right back in.

  “Close the door, babe,” he ordered as he hauled the chair through my bedroom.

  I jerked my body out of its stupor and moved quickly to the door.

  I closed it, locked it and the instant the lock clicked, Deke kept being bossy.

  “Follow me.”

  I did as told, following him as he maneuvered the chair at an angle that would not only get it through my bedroom door but also through the doorway to the great room.

  He set it down there and I only got the chance to glance at Cal, who was standing inside the closed front door zipping shut a measuring tape, doing this watching us, before Deke spoke again,

  “’Til Jim-Billy sets you up, Jussy, this’ll have to do.”

  I looked up to him. “Okay, honey.”

  He got close and put a hand to my neck, sliding it back and up into my hair as he dipped his face to mine.

  “Sheets are in the wash. Washin’ him away. Your bed’s clean of him. It’s all yours again. That room all yours. This house all yours. He didn’t belong here when he was here, he doesn’t belong here at all, including up here.” He lifted his other hand and lightly tapped my forehead before he dropped that hand. “Gonna take some effort but start that now, Jussy. Wash him away.”

  I nodded, feeling his hand warm in my hair against my scalp, nothing in my space, my world, but his strong, beautiful, bearded face.

  I didn’t know if I could wash that guy away.

  What I did know was that, for Deke, I’d try my damnedest to do anything he wanted.

  I watched his eyes smile before his fingers slid out of my hair so he could wrap them around the back of my neck and pull me to him.

  He kept that one hand there, curled his other arm around me and I curved both of mine around him.

>   He held me and he took his time doing it, no squeezes, just offering me the undeniable evidence of his solid sanctuary.

  Finally, he bent his head so his lips were at the top of my hair and he said there, “Gonna get to work on givin’ my gypsy some walls.”

  He kissed my hair and only then gave me a squeeze before he let me go.

  I drew in breath, still smelling the clean soap aroma that was Deke in the morning, or Deke drywalling.

  Actually, just Deke.

  Deke moved to his tools that he kept along a wall in the great room.

  I moved my eyes to Cal to see he was paying us no mind and instead was doing whatever he needed to do to get done what I needed him to do.

  I went to my Adirondack chair, taking my phone out of my pocket when I did.

  And I sat in my chair and texted Joss, Lacey, Dana and Mr. T, telling them I was good, I was healing, I was safe.

  And I was home.

  * * * * *

  An hour later, it started happening.

  That “it” being, even if Deke hadn’t begun the process of washing away what had happened in that house, the town of Carnal was clearly intent on doing that same thing.

  However, it began not with a Carnal citizen.

  It began with Mr. T.

  Playing butler along with security expert, Cal answered the door to him at eight o’clock sharp.

  I watched Mr. T walk in carrying a cardboard holder with four coffees (of course Mr. T wouldn’t forget Cal) and a white bag with a colorful flower hand-drawn in Sharpies on the outside.

  La-La Land treats.

  “Callahan,” Mr. T greeted Cal.

  “Thurston,” Cal greeted Mr. T back.

  But I was up and moving quickly across the space.

  Cal took the coffees and bag so when I made it to the man who’d devoted his life to making life easy for my granddad, my dad and me, I could move right in for a hug.

  He stiffened, as was his way, before he gave me a perfunctory hug back and pushed me gently away with his hands on my upper arms.

  This was not done to get me out of his space. It was done so he had an unobstructed view of my face and I knew this because I knew Mr. T and also because he didn’t let my arms go.

  And if Deke’s fury yesterday morning was crazy-scary, Cal’s look that morning was just plain scary, Mr. T’s look was downright terrifying.

  I’d never seen that. He could get irritated. He could get frustrated. I’d seen him smile (though barely and they didn’t last long).

  But I’d never seen him angry.

  And obviously not that angry.

  Even so, that look, as perverse as it seemed, calmed something inside of me.

  And this was because he so totally would push me out of the way of a train and take that hit.

  I let him have his look, doing this feeling all he was giving me at the same time hearing Deke coming down the ladder.

  Mr. T kept hold at both my arms until he was forced to let go, this done by Deke wrapping an arm around my chest from behind and pulling me back into his body.

  Once he got me in this position, he also, incidentally, did not let me go.

  Mr. T looked from me and up. Then he took his time and did it brazenly looking down. Once he did that, he looked back up and I knew by the angle of his head and the shrewdness in his eyes that he was equally brazenly measuring up Deke.

  Then he shocked the absolute shit out of me.

  He pushed forward a hand and grunted, “Bill.”

  I blinked.

  Deke’s hand came out and they shook while he returned a grunt of, “Deke.”

  They separated.

  But I was stuck on “Bill.”

  Granddad called Mr. T “Bill.” I did not. Dad did not. Joss did not and Joss didn’t recognize any authority figure in all the world, even going so far as, when referring to her, calling the Queen of England “Liz” like they were best friends.

  Except Mr. T.

  Joss called Mr. T “Mr. T” just like everybody.

  This being the case, obviously I’d never heard Mr. T introduce himself as “Bill.”

  I had no idea what to do with this but didn’t get the chance to wrap my head around it before Cal declared, “Bet I could get a lot more done if I wasn’t standing here holding a tray of coffee.”

  I grinned, quickly pulled out of Deke’s hold and moved to Cal. I distributed coffee. I opened the bag and discovered just by the scent that Shambles was in a cinnamon mood that morning.

  Perfection.

  I loved cinnamon.

  I gave out treats, left mine in the bag for later, and set it aside as I reclaimed my coffee from where I’d put it on a stack of drywall.

  While doing this, Mr. T demanded, “Show me around your home, Justice.”

  “Okay, Mr. T,” I agreed.

  I started to move but stopped and looked back to see Deke had a hand on Mr. T’s shoulder.

  Except for the hug I just gave him, and a few hugs I made him endure after he gave me presents and such, as well as a number of handshakes, I’d seen nobody, not even his wife, touch Mr. T.

  But he stood under Deke’s hand, his neck twisted, head tipped back to lock eyes with Deke and he nodded after I heard Deke whisper, “Careful with her in her bedroom.”

  Deke dropped his hand, turned his head to send a small smile my way, and he went back to the ladder.

  I showed Mr. T around, inside and out, sipping coffee while Mr. T ate what he told me was a slice of apple cinnamon bread. We finished at my private deck.

  We stood at the railing and Mr. T stared at the rushing river.

  I stared at Mr. T’s jaw, which was only slightly jowly with age, and was now tensed hard.

  “I should not have allowed you to move in here without Callahan doing his work first.”

  Oh shit.

  I shifted closer, starting, “Mr. T—”

  He turned penetrating blue eyes to me, eyes that had not faded even a little bit over the years, and I quit talking.

  Then suddenly, delivering another shock, he lifted a hand, took my chin in his fingers and gently turned my head so he could examine the damage to my face, his gaze moving from there to my throat before he righted my head but kept his hand there.

  “Your father would be beside himself,” he whispered.

  I felt tears gather in my eyes so strong, they stung my nostrils.

  “Mr. T,” I whispered back.

  “I promised them both,” he stated.

  “Promised them both what?”

  “You and your brother, I promised your grandfather and your father, as long as I was breathing, I would never let anything happen to you. I’ve failed them both. I’ve failed you both.”

  I lifted a hand and wrapped it around his wrist. “Mav’s Mav and you know it. You can save him from a lot, but you can’t save him from her. And I moved in here without a system in. So intent on finding some peace after we lost Dad, I didn’t think. It wasn’t you, it was me.”

  He released my chin and dropped his hand, disconnecting us.

  “You forget, I also failed your cousin Rudy.”

  “You couldn’t save Rudy from himself either,” I reminded him. “We all tried, Mr. T. You can look at it as we all failed but we didn’t. In the end, Rudy failed himself.”

  Mr. T shook his head. “You can say a thousand words, put them in a hundred songs, Justice, and you would not have enough words to convince me I’m wrong.”

  I studied a man I didn’t know until that very moment that I loved down deep in my heart where my dad lived, where my grandfather lived, where all the good love that was pure and right in any body took residence.

  “I might not be able to convince you that you’re not to blame, the only person to blame is the man who did this to me. But I hope I can convince you that everything you’ve done for me, for Granddad, for Dad, even for Mav, all of it, culminating in you dropping everything to be here right now with me, I love you for it because I just love you.
”

  “The Lonesome heart,” he replied reflectively, “all of them so soft.”

  “Which means it was a blessing Granddad found you so you could protect them.”

  He nodded. “Yes.” He kept nodding. “Yes, a blessing.”

  I had a feeling he wasn’t talking about the same blessing I was but he cleared his throat, looked away and announced, “You need stables.”

  I grinned and turned, bumping him purposefully with my shoulder before I opened my mouth and told him all my plans. The ones that were currently being carried out by Deke and the other ones that would happen pending the sale of the extra land that my real estate agent was negotiating for me.

  While I was doing this, we heard a vehicle approach and Mr. T turned to my house, extending his arm for me to precede him.

  I did this and we went through my bedroom to the great room to see Cal at the door and two men walking through it.

  I stopped dead on sight of them.

  One was white, had a salt and pepper (predominately pepper, black pepper) head of hair and goatee, a face that was gorgeous in a rugged way, and a tall body made up of what I was assuming since I kept running into it was patented mountain man muscle.

  The other was black, as huge as Deke (maybe even bigger), and so outlandishly handsome, I could swear I’d seen him before and that had to be in a movie.

  They were carrying a beat-up couch.

  Following them in was Jim-Billy.

  Jim-Billy looked at me, started to grin, the grin faltered, died, he stood still and immobile and I started toward him, calling a gentle, “Hey, Jim-Billy.”

  He didn’t greet me back.

  He turned on his battered boot and walked out.

  Deke was down the ladder and on the move to the front door, saying, “Wood, Ty, Jussy. Jussy, my buds, Wood and Ty.”

  Then he was through the door.

  I looked to Wood and Ty. Ty, the black guy, I knew was Lexie’s husband. Wood was the man I hadn’t met who took care of Granddad’s truck.

  I waved.

  They did not wave back.

  They were staring at me with stony faces and their mountain man, badass, pissed-off vibe was choking the air.

  Okay, so maybe I should have a look at my face and perhaps get creative with foundation.

  I walked to my front windows.