The Truth (Butler Ranch Book 5)

by Heather Slade

  “He has a Hallberg-Rassy?” Tara gasped.

  Quinn beamed. “Yep. Forty-two.”

  “My dad is going to want to go too. Do you think Mercer would mind?”

  “Ask him,” Penelope said. “He’s right there.”

  Mercer was leaning against one of the outdoor tables, listening, but not saying anything.

  She walked over to him and rested her hands on his chest, loving the way his corded muscles felt beneath her fingers. If they hadn’t just gotten here, she’d suggest it was time to leave. “What do you think?” she asked.

  “Of course Tara’s father can come along. The more on deck, the less I have to do.”

  “Although…I didn’t realize he was bringing his latest girlfriend today. Can we tell him she has to take the ferry?” Tara whispered. “I swear she’s my age.”

  The five girls looked over at the woman in question, who was completely oblivious to anything going on around her, except for Tara’s dad. She hung as much on every word he spoke, as she hung on his arm.

  “It’s sickening,” she said, turning away from them. “He’ll trade her in for a younger model in a year, tops.”

  “She doesn’t look like much of a deck ape,” Ava added. “I predict she’ll decline anyway.”

  Tara groaned. “Let’s make it a dads’ and daughters’ sail.”

  Aine and Ava’s father was at the party, too, and it was being held at Penelope’s dad’s house, so obviously he was there. He had a date, but the twins’ father appeared to have arrived solo.

  “You okay with all this, precious?” Mercer asked.

  She nodded, turned her head, and kissed him. “As long as you’re with me, I’m okay with just about anything.”

  12

  Quinn picked up the framed photo Mercer had given her shortly after they arrived back in the city after the Fourth of July holiday. “Real—Forever,” the frame read. The day he took the “selfie,” he told her that, soon, she’d know their relationship wasn’t a lie and that she wasn’t alone.

  So far, this had been the best summer of her life, and she hated seeing it come to an end. He hadn’t been called away on business since late June, and since she wasn’t due to start her job with the historic preservation group until after Labor Day, they’d spent every day together.

  As promised, he taught her to drive his friend’s fancy car, which she immediately fell in love with. He warned her driving any other car would pale in comparison, though.

  Today they were kickstarting the Labor Day weekend a couple of days early by taking Aurora out for a sail. Her tribe and their dates were joining them. Mercer was heading out soon to get provisions while Quinn stayed at her apartment where they’d all agreed to meet.

  Lately it didn’t feel like “her” apartment as much as it did “theirs.” Mercer spent every night with her and only went to his apartment to work.

  At first it had been difficult not to ask about what he did, but she got used to it. Since she wasn’t working yet, it felt like they were both on a summer-long vacation anyway.

  There was something she wanted to talk to him about, though, and she’d been putting it off long enough that soon she’d run out of time.

  “I’m heading out,” he said from the hallway, but when Quinn turned around, he walked over to her instead. “What’s this?” he asked, brushing a tear from her cheek.

  “I need to talk to you,” she said, backing up so he wasn’t touching her.

  Mercer sat on the couch and pulled her with him. “What’s going on, precious?”

  “I want to tell you about my mom.”

  “Now?” He looked at the time. “Your friends will be here shortly.”

  “You always do that.”

  “What?”

  “Whenever I bring up my mother you change the subject, or, like today, say we don’t have time for the conversation.”

  “I don’t do that.”

  He did, and so often, it bothered her. “Sometimes I don’t think you want to hear about my life.”

  “What? That’s crazy.”

  She raised an eyebrow and folded her arms.

  “I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant. It isn’t crazy, Quinn. I hate that you feel that way. We’ll talk about her tomorrow when we have more time. Okay?”

  She didn’t feel like it anymore. “Forget it.”

  He pulled her arms apart and kissed her. “I’m not going to forget it. Tell me about her now if that’s what you want to do.”

  “She’s—”

  The buzzer rang, indicating at least one of her friends had arrived, so Quinn stood. “Perfect timing, right, Mercer?”

  He turned away, but she could still see how his eyes looked hooded and how tensely his jaw was set. It wasn’t a look she saw very often, usually only after he came back from a few hours spent working.

  For now, she’d ignore it. Her friends knew all about her mother, and the last thing she’d do was bore them and their dates with her sad little story.

  Mercer was polite but quiet and reserved enough, all afternoon, that it bothered her. He was acting as though he was mad at her. She was the one who had every right to be angry, not him. The longer it went on throughout the day, the more pissed off she became.

  When they docked the boat after their sail, and were packing up to go home, Aine approached her.

  “We’d love to take you and Mercer out for dinner as thanks for our fabulous afternoon.”

  Quinn looked over at him. He had obviously heard Aine, but had looked away. “I’m not sure.”

  Her friend leaned closer. “Is everything okay between you two?” she asked. “You both seemed…tense all afternoon.”

  “To be honest with you, I don’t know what’s going on. We were about to have a conversation about my mother when you arrived. When I said we’d continue later, he got weird about it.”

  “Maybe you need some time apart. You have been joined at the hip all summer.”

  Quinn shrugged. Maybe they did. She hated the way he was acting. “I’ll go,” she said to Aine.

  “Huh?”

  “To dinner. I’ll go. He can do whatever he wants to do.”

  Aine’s eyes opened wider. “Are you sure?”

  “Yep. Never more sure.”

  Everyone helped finish packing up, and since all five of them knew their way around boats, they were able to clean and furl sails, batten hatches, and secure the boat for the night.

  “Thank you,” Mercer said when everything was done. “I appreciate the help.” He looked at Quinn. “Ready?”

  “Actually…Aine and Ava invited me over to their place tonight for some girl time.” She glanced at Ava who hadn’t been privy to her conversation with Aine, but she went along with it. This was her tribe, and they’d stuck together since they were in second grade. If one of them let out a cry for help, no matter how subtle, the other four were there to give it.

  Mercer scrunched his eyes and studied her. “Okay, then. Have a good night.”

  He walked away, leaving Quinn stunned and feeling like absolute shit, but this had been what she’d wanted, hadn’t it? As Aine said, maybe they did need some time apart.

  Once he was gone, she motioned Aine away from the group. “You don’t have to do this,” she said, looking over at their dates. “I’ll let him get ahead of me, and then I’ll go home too. Honestly I’d just like a night to myself.”

  “That’s what you want to do?” Aine asked.

  “Yes, absolutely. There’s a book I started reading at the beginning of the summer that I haven’t had time to finish. I want to take a long, hot bath, all by myself, and eat chocolate chip cookies for dinner without anyone judging me for it.”

  “Okay, if you’re sure…at least see if Tom can pick you up.”

  All five of them had Tom’s number in their contacts. He was their favorite cabbie and often made them feel like he sat on standby, ready to come and get them and take them wherever they needed to go.

  “Good idea,�
� she said and pulled her phone out. “All set,” she said a minute later. “He’ll be here in five.”

  “Sometimes it feels like he follows us around and then waits wherever we are to see if we need a ride,” Ava said.

  “I know, right? I was just thinking the same thing.” Quinn rubbed her chest when a weird feeling came over her. She remembered thinking something similar about Mercer when they first started seeing each other. Inexplicably, it seemed like he knew her so well. It had been weird, just like it was weird that Tom was also always close by.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Aine asked, walking with her to where Tom waited.

  “I’m positive,” she promised.

  “Have a good night, then.”

  “You, too,” Quinn said, closing the door behind her.

  “Where to, Miss Skip…Sullivan?”

  She laughed. “What did you almost call me?”

  “Nothing, sorry about that.”

  “No, really. What was it?”

  When Tom shook his head and pulled away from the curb, Quinn felt a chill. She folded her arms and leaned back against the seat. For a minute she’d thought maybe they’d have a conversation that might distract her from thinking about Mercer’s strange behavior, but Tom had slipped right back into his role as taxi driver.

  Quinn’s eyes filled with tears, and with no reason to hide them, she let herself cry the whole way back to her apartment.

  “Everything okay?” Tom asked once, but didn’t say anything more when Quinn nodded.

  She pulled a credit card out of her wallet, realizing she didn’t have any cash. She’d gotten so used to not carrying any. No matter how often she told him she could afford to pay her own way, Mercer never let her.

  “Sorry,” she murmured as she handed Tom the card.

  “It’s not a problem, Miss Sullivan,” he said, his eyes meeting hers in the rear-view mirror. “I’m worried about you, though.”

  His kindness only made her cry harder. “I’m just tired. You know, a day out on the water, too much sun…” Quinn stopped herself. Maybe he didn’t know. “I’m sorry,” she said again, taking her card and climbing out of the cab. “Have a good night, Tom.”

  “You too, Miss Sullivan,” she heard him say before she closed the door behind her.

  By the time she got to the building’s entrance, her favorite doorman was holding the door open for her.

  “Hi, Vinnie,” she said. “Long time, no talk.”

  “You’ve had a busy summer.”

  “I have, but it’s coming to an end.” When her eyes filled with tears again, she tried to hide them.

  “What’s wrong?” Vinnie asked.

  “Nothing.” She waved her hand in front of her face. “I’m just tired, that’s all. Goodnight, Vinnie.”

  Quinn held it together until the elevator opened on the eleventh floor and she opened the door to her apartment. Once inside, she rested her back against the foyer wall, slid to the floor, put her head in her hands, and let herself sob.

  —:—

  Mercer’s heart was breaking for Quinn, but he didn’t know what to do about it. She’d made it clear she didn’t want to be around him tonight, and he’d respect that. The two reports from Tom and Vinnie, both saying she was inconsolable, had him tied in knots. He was torn between letting her be, and going over and banging on her door until she let him in, holding her in his arms, and not leaving until she told him what was wrong.

  He paced from one side of his apartment to the other, so worried he couldn’t sit still. When his phone pinged, he jumped at it, fumbling with the screen in a way he never did, praying it was a message from Quinn.

  Instead, it was from Paps, and what he read made him want to punch something.

  Calder on the move. Need backup.

  He couldn’t say no. This was the mission. If Paps was calling him in, he had to go.

  The summer had been quiet, and while every day that passed left him more worried about Doc and Leech, Calder hadn’t done anything that gave them a lead.

  Maybe this was what they’d been waiting for, and if so, they couldn’t afford not to take advantage of whatever move he made.

  Without needing to ask, Mercer knew the plane would be waiting at the airfield at zero six hundred tomorrow. He had no choice now; he had to go and talk to Quinn.

  Leaving town tomorrow, he wrote. Please talk to me before I have to leave.

  He held his phone in his hand, willing her to reply. A full fifteen minutes later, she did.

  I’m here.

  Mercer raced to the door, closed it behind him, and rounded the corner in the hallway. Quinn’s shoulder rested against the door jamb, and she looked as though she’d been crying for hours.

  “Precious,” he breathed, cupping her cheek with his hand. “Why have you been crying?”

  She walked inside, leaving him standing in the doorway.

  “May I come in?” he asked.

  She turned around and glared at him. “Of course you can come in,” she huffed.

  It clearly wasn’t the time for him to tell her that he was trying to respect the boundaries she’d put in place today. Maybe he was overreacting.

  When she sat on the couch, he sat next to her and put his arm around her shoulders. She didn’t rest her head on his shoulder like she usually did, and he felt a chill because of it.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “I’m tired,” she said, repeating what Tom and Vinnie had both told him she’d said.

  “What else?”

  She shrugged.

  “Talk to me, Quinn.”

  “Why? You didn’t talk to me all day. Why should I talk to you now?”

  “That isn’t true.”

  “Bullshit. You were cordial. That’s it.”

  “I disagree.”

  “So do I.”

  He almost smiled at her tone, but stopped himself, thankfully, since she was already glaring at him.

  “When are you leaving?”

  “First thing in the morning.”

  “Where are you going?”

  When he sighed, she got up from the sofa and sat in one of the armchairs.

  “Forget I asked.”

  “Quinn.”

  “No, I get it. You don’t have to tell me jack shit.”

  “We’ve discussed this—”

  “Yes, we’ve discussed the fact that you can’t tell me anything. You just forgot to mention that I can’t tell you anything either.”

  “That isn’t true,” he repeated. “You can tell me anything.”

  “Bullshit,” she said for the second time.

  Mercer had just about enough, and stood. “I don’t want to leave town with things so off between us.”

  “Then don’t.”

  “You know I don’t have any choice.”

  “Do I? I know that huh? Interesting that you think so. I don’t know anything, Mercer. Nothing.”

  He sat back down and waited, staring into her eyes like she was doing to him.

  When she finally spoke, it was to ask him to leave.

  “Please don’t do this,” he begged.

  “It’s late. You have an early flight. We’ll talk when you get back.”

  Not knowing what else to do, Mercer stood and walked toward the door, hoping she’d change her mind and ask him to stay. He stood with his hand on the doorknob, waiting too long in the silence. He opened the door, walked out, and closed it behind him.

  “Give me the rundown,” Mercer said to Paps when he answered his call.

  “Hey, Eighty-eight. I’m sorry—”

  “Stop right there,” he snapped. “We’re in the middle of a mission.”

  “Got it.” The rest of the conversation was brief and direct. When Lena disappeared, Calder backed off the Old Creek Road property. His plan to exploit the Avila’s bond issue, and force them to sell, fell flat when the ATB let them off without as much as a slap on the wrist. He’d been asking around about other wineries at ris
k, whose owners would want to sell, but didn’t have any luck there either.

  “You believe he’s going to force someone’s hand?” Mercer asked.

  “It’s a gut feeling,” Paps answered.

  Mercer understood the importance of being vigilant solely because his gut told him to.

  “There’s a new winemaker coming on board at Butler Ranch,” Paps told him. “Bradley St. John.”

  “What’s his story?”

  “Her story.”

  “Huh?”

  “Bradley is a woman. Not much to tell. She’s the Jensons’ niece. They’re winemakers whose vineyards are across the road from Butler Ranch.”

  Mercer had no idea why Paps was telling him this. If this was more gossip, he wasn’t interested in hearing it.

  “She’s involved with Trey Deveux,” Paps added.

  Why did that name sound familiar? Mercer pulled up the files on his computer and did a search for the name. There it was. He was the one Lena had said signed the non-disclosure before Calder came and viewed the Old Creek Road property when it was for sale. Mercer dug a little deeper and found that the Deveux family had a connection to the Calder family by way of a marriage between a sister and one of Rory’s younger brothers.

  “What else do you know about her?” Mercer asked after telling Paps what he’d remembered and what he’d found.

  “I don’t think there’s anything there. Maddox approached her about the job; evidently, she’s an up-and-coming winemaker. I honestly think the connection with Deveux is coincidental, but certainly not something we should ignore.”

  “What the hell else haven’t you read me in on?” Mercer snapped, more angry with himself than Paps.

  “I don’t like your tone of voice, Eighty-eight. We’ll continue this discussion when you arrive tomorrow.”

  Mercer stared at the phone, incredulous that Paps had just hung up on him. He slammed it down on the desk.

  Since there was no way he’d get any sleep tonight, Mercer made arrangements for Quinn’s detail while he was gone, and then dove headfirst into the files that hadn’t had his full attention since the beginning of summer. He’d let himself get swept away by his relationship, with an asset no less, and because of it, they were no closer to completing their mission.