by Taylor Lee
“I’ve heard that Jeb has sources in the Middle East, Cuz. Afghanistan or Russia.”
Nate nodded. “Afghanistan is what my contacts tell me, Connor. Along with virtually every other country in that part of the world, the Afghans have learned that their most lucrative natural resource is their poppy fields. Problem is they don’t have the infrastructure to convert it to street drugs. That’s where Jeb was so fucking smart. And, I should add, greedy. He thought he could control all parts of the food chain. All he needed were the raw materials.”
Connor persisted, “Do you think he’ll run? Christ, if he was smart, he’d get the hell out of Dodge.”
Nate grimaced. “He’s smart. Way too smart. But the problem is that he’s consumed with hate. Hate for people who don’t look like he does or think like he does. From the time he was a kid, he never let a slight go unanswered. If he thought someone wronged him, the fucker paid for it. Big time. The problem with revenge, as the Chief used to tell us, is that you need to dig two graves. One for the object of your hate and one for you. Like most of the Chief’s wisdom, it went over Jeb’s head. But now that I am the numero uno on Jeb’s list of hated persons, don’t think I’m not watching my six. Or Erin’s. Or, goddammit, yours, Sam. Jeb seems almost as obsessed with you as he is with me.”
Nate took a long pull from his bottle, draining half of it.
“I’ll tell you, if anybody ought to be paying attention, it’s Cougar. Jeb has to believe that Cougar told me about Jeb’s Ely operation.”
Connor started. “Cougar? Hell, I thought they hated each other.”
“They do. But they worked together for years. If anyone in Jeb’s circle knew the extent of Jeb’s operation it was Cougar. And, let’s face it. Cougar and I go back as far as Jeb and I do.”
“Was he your source, Nate?”
“You know I wouldn’t tell you if he was; but the hell of it is that he’s not. Only problem Cougar faces is how he’s going to convince Jeb he wasn’t the one who tipped me off.”
~~~
The excited squeals from what looked to be fifty kids crowding the picnic tables reminded Nate that the highlight of the Founder’s Day picnic was the ice cream social. For years, his girly girl cousins had waited for Founder’s Day almost as eagerly as they did their birthdays or Christmas. All because of the ice cream social. Nate’s chest tightened remembering how he always brought little Melanie Jones to the picnic along with his girly cousins. Her serious little face would light up when he said she could have as many toppings on her ice cream as she wanted. Each year she tested him adding one more. One year she piled on eight toppings watching him carefully as she added each one expecting him to say no. After the chocolate and caramel and whipped cream was sloshing over the sides, he frowned. Melanie stepped back and asked, “What’s wrong, Nate?”
He’d grinned at her and said, “You forgot the cherry, honey.”
It had seemed like such a small thing but he remembered Sarah’s reaction. She didn’t try to hide her tears. She’d whispered, “Thank God, you’re here, Nate. Please stay close.”
Nate shoved at his unease. He would have to think about that memory. It was even more painful today than it had been when Melanie was eleven. He realized that unconsciously he’d been searching the crowd, hoping to see Melanie… and praying he didn’t see her with Tucker. To his relief, neither of them were here. Nor was Sarah. Nate didn’t like to think about the Jones household today. He prayed to God that Sarah was keeping Melanie and Francine as far away from their father as possible.
Knowing that he was being anti-social, Nate forced himself to participate in the trash talk buzzing around him. Most of the first responders, cops, EMT’s, and firefighters were there. Those who were unlucky enough to pull duty came on their breaks and loaded up with barbecue and now ice cream.
Alan sidled up to him and gave him a conspiratorial wink.
“Hey, Big Dog. Who you got lined up to watch Erin this week? Me and Mort are up for it. Just ask. Hell, I got every guy at the station hassling me, calling me an ass-kisser. I could care less. Talk about a puh-lummm assignment. Any time, Big Dog.”
Nate laughed. “C’mon, Alan. You know I have to spread the goodies around. Can’t play favorites. But thanks, you did a hell of a job. Erin told me that you were respectful and stayed out of sight. I appreciate it, buddy.”
“Damn, Nate. That scene of you marching down the stairs with Erin over your shoulder was more than worth the price of admission. That is some woman. I’ve always wanted to toss a babe over my shoulder like that but never had the courage. From what I hear, that was only the beginning of a long night. Frank Henderson was telling—”
Nate groaned. “Stop right there, Alan! Frank Henderson is a dead man walking, he just doesn’t know it.”
The men around him hooted and in minutes the crowd was trying to outdo each other retelling Frank’s stories. Nate saw Erin serving ice cream to a horde of noisy children and caught her looking over at him. Knowing that some of the men were talking more loudly than they should—the result of a long afternoon and too many cases of beer, he saluted her and hoped like hell she couldn’t hear what was being said. His heart sunk, when he saw her frown and several minutes later leave her serving duties and head toward him and his men.
Erin loved seeing the eager children pushing and shoving each other to get closer to the ice cream table. She watched in amazement when they piled topping after topping into their bowls. She was struck as she often was how simple things like this surprised her. There weren’t Annual Day picnics where she grew up and if there were, her druggie mother wouldn’t have known about them. Refusing to be saddened by what she’d missed as a child, she focused on the children in front of her, their faces smeared with ice cream and chocolate.
She heard the sound of raucous laughter coming from the men surrounding Nate. She delighted in the way the crowd of men were enjoying each other’s company. Erin loved watching Nate clown around with his men. They obviously worshipped him. Nate was a star, pure and simple. People loved him and respected him. She smiled to herself. How could they not? It took her a moment to notice that many of the men were looking her way. She saw Alan and Mort, the men who’d been on her protective detail laughing and nodding at her. Remembering the wonder in their wide-eyed expressions when Nate tossed her over his shoulder and how she’d screamed at him—to no avail, embarrassment surged over her. Dammit. How humiliating. Add to that the tales Frank had been spreading and it was no secret why so many of the men around Nate were surreptitiously glancing at her and laughing.
Forcing herself to pay attention to the demands of the children begging for more goodies, Erin focused on the bowls of toppings. Staring at the chocolate sauce and gooey marshmallow, an impish devil whispered in her ear. Glancing over at Nate, she grabbed an empty bowl and filled it with ice cream. Like a master chef she eyed the various toppings, choosing the ones that suited her purposes. Definitely the chocolate and marshmallow would make it to her masterpiece but the caramel and strawberry and even the M&M’s had potential. When she’d finished loading up her bowl, she headed toward Nate, a woman on a mission. She smiled to herself when she saw his grin fade at her approach.
Erin pushed her way through the crowd of men and heard Nate mutter, “Hell, I thought I’d fucked the mad out of her.”
Rather than being insulted, Erin laughed outright as did most of the men.
“You know what they say, Nate, still waters run deep. I owe you Big Dog. Big time.”
She eyed his shirtless chest and smiled.
“You look hungry, baby. And clean. I brought you some ice cream… and some toppings. I know how much you like chocolate and marshmallow….”
It didn’t take the men surrounding him long to figure out what was coming, but there was nonetheless a startled gasp when Erin pretended to stumble and slathered a large dollop of ice cream on Nate’s bare chest. She quickly followed the frozen treat with a spoonful of chocolate. Reaching out she rubbed
the syrupy substance around one nipple—thoroughly, then smeared marshmallow on the other peaked nub.
“Sorry, Nate. Didn’t mean to get you all sticky. But you look naked. Like you could use more decorations.”
Before he could stop her, Erin placed a spoonful of caramel into his navel then stood back to admire her handiwork. The men around Nate screamed with laughter egging her on, but before she could add to her masterpiece, Nate, who was grinning broadly, reached for the bowl.
“Uh uh, spitfire. You don’t get to have all the fun.”
He raked his eyes over her barely clad body.
“Sugar, that swimming suit—what there is of it—presents me with an incredible canvas. One I can’t pass up.”
Urged on by the roar of the crowd, Nate piled one spoonful after another of ice cream: chocolate, caramel and myriad other sticky substances. All over Erin’s body. He made a point of going for divots, like her belly button and between her breasts laughing when she shrieked at the cold. When the bowl was empty he pitched it over his shoulder and grabbed for her.
“Honey, I gotta tell you. You always look good enough to eat, but you’ve surpassed yourself.”
Picking her up, he tossed her over his shoulder and barreled his way through the cheering crowd.
“You’ll forgive me fellows, if I take care of my woman. She seems to need some serious cleaning. As good as my tongue is, this is going to require water—a lot of it!”
Amid the cheers and Erin’s laughing shrieks, Nate headed toward the lake. Marching out to the end of the dock, he lifted her high above his head and tossed her into the cold water. Before she surfaced, he’d jumped in beside her.
~~~
Long after Erin had been congratulated by every woman in attendance and most of the men, she stood contentedly nestled against Nate. His arm was tight around her as it had been for most of the afternoon. She’d reveled in the praise from the excited crowd. Even now she couldn’t believe her daring. Several people insisted that they needed to make the “ice cream body painting” an annual event. As much a part of the celebration as the ice cream social and the beer. Erin snuggled up against Nate, knowing for the first time what it was like to be part of a town. She grinned to herself, proud that now she’d be known as outrageous as Nate was.
She turned to see Connor and Sam coming toward them. She saw them before Nate did. Seeing their agonized expressions, Erin’s heart clenched. She struggled to breathe. She’d seen a similar expression on Connor’s face before, but she’d never seen the level of devastation in his eyes that she saw when Connor looked at Nate.
She heard Nate draw an audible breath and felt him pull her even closer against him as if to shelter her from what was coming.
“What is it, Connor? Jeb?”
Connor nodded. His voice was raspy, shaken.
“Someone blew up Cougar’s property. His house, his trucks, his stash… even his… fishing cabin.”
Not taking his eyes off of his cousin’s strained face, Nate tried to swallow but he couldn’t get by the lump in his throat.
Connor closed his eyes and nodded again, confirming what Nate already knew.
“Nate, there were people inside the cabin.”
Nate didn’t recognize his own voice.
“Tucker?”
Connor reached for Nate’s hand and held it tight.
“You better sit down, buddy. There was another body.”
Somehow Nate managed to say the name.
“Melanie?”
Tears flowing down his face, Connor nodded once more.
Chapter 23
Nate walked into the interrogation room, ignoring the man sitting at the table. The Chief and Sam followed behind him. Tossing the folder he was carrying onto the table, Nate pulled out his chair and sat at the head of the table. Sam sat to one side of him, the Chief the other. Not sure that he could do this, Nate took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair. Looking for the first time at the man across from him, the sight of the slimy bastard strengthened his resolve.
Jeb’s face darkened. Nate was gratified to see sweat gleaming on his brow. As if he knew that he’d given himself away, Jeb gave a lazy shrug. Mimicking Nate, he nonchalantly leaned back in his chair, the semblance of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Nate held his gaze for a long moment and then broke the ominous silence.
“Why did you kill your daughter, Jeb?”
A shared gasp of surprise from several men in the room was the only sound.
Jeb merely arched a casual brow.
“There must be some mistake, Nate. My daughter is alive.” He glanced at his watch. “If I’m not mistaken, Francine is in her 4th period English class right now.”
Nate forced himself to take another breath. He managed to keep his voice low, soft.
“I’m not talking about Francine, Jeb.”
Jeb’s jaw tightened and his eyes flashed dark with hate.
“I see. Oh, of course. You’re talking about Melanie, the little slut who was shacking up with that fucking red-skinned buck.”
Jeb spat on the table.
“She’s no daughter of mine.”
A red haze filled Nate’s eyes. A rolling cloud of noxious smoke flooded over him, choking him. The anguish of the last twenty four hours, combined with his breath-stealing guilt, morphed into rage. With a mighty roar he rose from his seat and dove across the table. He landed on Jeb’s chest with a crash, throwing him to the floor. Nate didn’t count the times he smashed his fist into the odious man’s face and body. The satisfying crunch of bone and splattering blood confirmed he was making an impression. Rising to his feet, he threw the broken chair across the room and began kicking the screaming man. The first kick landed in the racist’s flabby gut, the second in his groin. Reaching down, Nate dragged Jeb to his feet. Holding him up by his bloodied shirtfront, Nate drew back his fist preparing to break the fucker’s nose if it wasn’t already broken.
Sam caught his arm with an iron hard grip. Through a distant tunnel, Nate heard the commotion around him and slowly began to see through the haze. Two shattered chairs lay in pieces, the table was on its side. Papers carpeted the floor like confetti. Jeb, his face streaming with blood, was howling obscenity-laced threats. Four uniformed officers had dragged him across the room and were holding the writhing man on the floor. Jeb’s white-faced lawyer was plastered against the wall, his eyes wide with fright. Two sets of strong arms held Nate in place. He heard the Chief’s voice in one ear, Sam’s in the other. Sam’s soft tones were the most compelling.
“Don’t, Nate. Hang on, buddy. We’re gonna get him for so much more. Hang in there.”
It took less than three minutes for Sam and the Chief to bring the room to order. Officers scurried about, picking up papers and fragments of smashed furniture. Sgt. Mulroney righted the table and replaced the broken chairs. Two burly policemen hoisted Jeb up off the floor and into a chair. His ashen-faced lawyer, uncharacteristically silent, sunk down in the chair next to his client. The only voices heard were Sam’s quiet orders and Jeb’s screaming threats.
Sam walked to the chair at the end of the table. At Nate’s nod, Sam settled in the command seat. Nate sat to one side, the Chief on the other.
Glancing at Jeb, Sam motioned to the officer standing at the injured man’s side.
“Cuff him.”
Jeb shrieked, “What the hell are you talking about? Cuff me?” Pointing to Nate, he yelled, “Tie up that maniac. The fucking asshole could have killed me. Goddammit, I’m going to file the biggest lawsuit you assholes have ever—”
Sam nodded to Sgt. Mulroney who jerked Jeb’s hands behind his back and cuffed him to the chair.
Over the sound of Jeb’s outraged screams, Sam’s voice was smooth, controlled. He nodded pleasantly to Jeb’s lawyer.
“It’s a precaution. We wouldn’t want your client to lose his temper again. We have a limited furniture budget.”
~~~
Jeb broke through t
he formal give and take between Sam and Marvin Gunther, Jeb’s
lawyer. It had taken Gunther a good five minutes to keep his voice from squeaking and beginning to sound like the practiced attorney that he was.
“You know of course, Commander Carter, that my client will be filing a suit against Detective Stryker. We will have the papers on your desk tomorrow morning. Meantime, I would like to go to the issue at hand, your charge that my client was in some way responsible for the hideous fires that took the life of two young people and destroyed—”
Jeb’s voiced was thick with hate.
“Shut the fuck up, Gunther! You’re talking to this asshole as if he was a real cop instead of Nate’s house boy.”
Gunther jerked back, not hiding his shock. He swallowed visibly and leaned closer to Jeb.
“For God’s sake, Jeb—”
“You heard me, you useless jackass. I said shut the fuck up! In case you don’t understand English, you’re fired. Just because every other god dammed lawyer in this town is a Jew, doesn’t mean I have to put up with an incompetent bastard like you. You sit there quaking like a pussy girl while five cops beat the shit out of me and you do nothing?”
Gunther pushed back in his chair. His once ashen face was flushed dark red. His lips were pressed in a firm line, his jaw rock solid. He glanced at his former client and then from Nate to the Chief. Taking a deep breath, he addressed Sam.
“I… I don’t know what to say, Commander Carter, other than to apologize for my former client. As for a suit against you, Nate, or the department, Chief Roberts, if Mr. Jones chooses to go forward he will need to get another attorney.”
The shaken man rose to his feet and placed the papers in front of him into his briefcase. Nodding to the men at the table, he straightened his shoulders and walked to the door, closing it firmly behind himself.
Sam let the silence settle over the room for a moment. He focused on Jeb through half-closed eyes.