Mountain Cure (Stone Brothers Duet, #2)

by Jadin, Bethany

  I resist throwing it in his face that we paid cash for the truck. We keep our finances to ourselves for this exact reason — so fuckers like him can’t wreck our business.

  But I can’t keep the smartass tone out of my voice when I reply, “Yeah, I guess we really suckered some poor sap.”

  The asshole crosses his arms over his chest. “Hey, my brother spoke with your dad yesterday. Ben says it’s too bad no charges are being pressed, because it’s only a matter of time before that piece of shit gets locked away for life. Hell, you’re lucky my brother takes on those pro bono public defender jobs. Your old man would’ve been rotting in prison years ago if he didn’t.”

  I open the front passenger door to our truck but pause before I get in. “You expect us to be grateful about that? Why doesn’t your dear brother Ben do us all a favor and let him fucking rot?”

  “Jesus, you’re a cold bastard,” Brad retorts, but that smile is plastered on. “Guess I wouldn’t be that amicable toward my pops if he slapped me around, either.”

  Colt eases away from the driver’s door, his gaze focused on Brad like a heat-seeking missile. “You don’t know a goddamn thing about that. I’m sure you think you do, along with everyone else in this town — but I promise, you fucking don’t.”

  Brad shrugs. “Whatever. He sent your sister running, I know that much. And then there’s you three fools, hiding up in the mountains.”

  The anger I was holding back during the conversation with my brothers boils into pure rage. I want to smash my fist right into Brad’s fucking smug face, but I know he’d love it if I did.

  He’d like nothing more than to see me sitting in jail right next to my father.

  It doesn’t keep Wes from striding right up to the hood of his car a few feet from Brad. “You fucking know why Ann left, and it wasn’t because of Frank. Say another word about her, and I’ll break every bone in your goddamn face.”

  A scoffing smile comes over the asshole’s features, his arms held out in mock surrender. “Calm the fuck down. That was years ago. And I don’t care what you’ve heard, but she fucking loved every minute of it.”

  Wes steps toward Brad, but Colt’s quick ass bolts forward and grabs our brother. “Not now, Wes.”

  “Oh, go ahead,” Brad says. “Unlike your shitbag father, I don’t sue everyone who sneezes on me. But don’t think I won’t fuck your ass up if you try to throw a punch at me, Stone.”

  I move to Wes’s other side as soon as I see my younger brother’s eyebrows shoot up.

  “There’s no try about it, motherfucker.” Wes curls his fingers, beckoning him. “Come around here. Let’s see how that goes.”

  I notice that little smile curl on his lips, fury burning in his eyes. Oh, shit. I know that smile.

  I plant my palm on his chest. “Get in the truck.”

  Wes never takes his gaze off Brad. “I will, this’ll just take a minute.”

  “Get. In. The. Goddamn. Truck,” I repeat in a low hiss.

  “Fuck!” Wes is pissed, but I don’t get no-nonsense with him very often, so he complies, though there’s a distinct snarl of hatred on his lips.

  Ann and he were particularly close growing up, and what Brad and Ben Elliott did to her — none of us have ever forgotten that shit, nor will there ever be forgiveness for it. It was a level of assholery that only my dad has managed to surpass.

  And that’s exactly why they did it.

  Avenging their father for what our dad did. The hatred runs deep between our families. And like damn near every battle that ever got waged throughout history, it all goes back to two men fighting over a woman.

  A hundred years ago, this whole feud would have already degenerated into a bloodbath.

  Brad shakes his head and purses his lips with mocking regret as Wes slams the truck door shut so hard it shakes the whole thing.

  “His temper’s going to land him in jail, you know that, right?”

  I give him a big, sweet fuck-off grin. “It’s the damnedest thing — he only gets that mad when he sees your fucking face.”

  “Seriously, guys, come on,” Brad says, annoyed now. “That was high school. We were kids.”

  Now Colt’s the one getting in his face.

  He shoves a finger into Brad’s chest. “What you did wasn’t kid shit. Don’t blame it on your age. It was her senior year, and you two had already graduated — you were plenty adult enough, and you damn sure knew what you were doing.”

  Brad’s chest rises and falls heavily as he narrows his eyes at Colt. “It wasn’t like that.”

  “It was exactly like that,” Colt growls. “It was fucking intentional from start to finish, your fucked up little game. What? Revenge because our mother didn’t choose your daddy?”

  There’s a dark anger flashing in Brad’s eyes now, but his voice wavers with an unprecedented genuineness as he replies. “You don’t know what it was like, growing up with my dad. He got his millions and his trophy family, alright. But he carried a torch for your goddamn mother his whole life, and he never let us forget we’re the product of his second choice.”

  Colt’s laugh is cold. “You’re going to talk to me about growing up in a fucked up situation? Really? You pampered little fuck. Christ, I knew you were a self-centered piece of shit, but that’s next level.”

  Brad’s brief hint of realness evaporates, his nostrils flaring with a renewed smugness. He purses his lips with a cocky swagger. “Guess you have a point. At least our dad hasn’t fucked over half the town.”

  My older brother’s lip curl with scorn. “Oh, he has. He just did it with his checkbook and a fake fucking smile for the cameras.”

  He snorts at us. “That’s real rich, since Frank’s probably sued half the population in Meadowbrook. I heard he’s even threatening to sue the doctors for saving his life after Stan beat the fuck out of him. That ambulance-chasing dipshit he’s hooked up with just loves slapping lawsuits on anyone with a bank account. Ben wouldn’t touch those kinds of cases with a ten-foot pole. You need to get your dad under control.”

  I shrug. “Frank’s not our fucking problem.”

  “It’s too damn bad about the way he’s treated Meadowbrook,” Colt tells him, “but then again, this town’s done jackshit for us. No one gave a rat’s ass about the shit that happened when we were younger.”

  Brad’s fire tampers down a little. “Don’t go blaming the whole fucking town for your problems. No one knew about that.”

  I let out a huff of surprised laughter while Colt shoves his finger back into Brad’s chest.

  “Everyone knew,” he growls. “Your dad knew. Where was he then, huh? Where was his flaming torch of feelings when Frank was beating the shit out of her, hmm?”

  Brad takes a step back, but Colt’s not finished. “And then you two fuckers turn around and pull that shit with Ann... for what? Do you even have any idea what that did to her? I doubt either of you give two fucks about it.”

  There’s a look in Brad’s eyes that I can’t quite place. Is it a hint of shame? Regret?

  I don’t buy it.

  Even if that little glimmer of remorse is genuine, I don’t give even the tiniest fuck. He’ll sleep just fine tonight, just like I’m sure he did after Ann left town, just like I’m sure he has every night of his life.

  “How about this, Brad?” I tip my chin at him, my tone dead serious. “We’ll let you get in your car and drive away, this time. But from now on, you see us coming, just keep your mouth shut. Don’t talk to us. Don’t fucking do your little smug dance and think we’ll let it go next time. Just turn around and walk the other way. And don’t even so much as utter our sister’s name again, or we will Fuck. You. Up.”

  Colt pushes his chest against Brad’s, his voice full of venom. “It’ll make the beating Stan gave Frank look like a goddamn Sunday afternoon stroll in the park with sunshine and cotton candy. Got it?”

  Brad glares at us, his lips curling in hatred, but he doesn’t make a sound. I know it’s a bitter pill
for him to swallow — conceding to us, taking an order from the Stone brothers, but we mean every word.

  He knows it, too. His arm probably still aches now and then from where Colt snapped it back in high school. And that was just a little taste of what he’s owed.

  It’s been a long time coming, us giving the Elliott brothers their due. If he wants to cash that check in now, so be it.

  A long moment passes between us, and I’m not sure which I’m hoping for more — that he just quietly gets in his car and we avoid having a bloody scene right here at the resort Addie’s staying at, or that he says something smartass so we can beat the ever loving fuck out of him.

  His silence speaks for itself. Brad slowly steps away from Colt, moving backward until he’s at the driver’s door of his car, his jaw set hard and his eyes narrowed at us the whole time.

  Beside me, I can feel the energy coming off Colt. He’s pining for a fight. And no doubt Wes is seething in the truck, his eyes glued to Brad, looking for any reason to jump back out and pummel that motherfucker into oblivion.

  I step around the front of the car and squeeze Colt’s shoulder until he makes eye contact with me. Colt shrugs my hand away, but he turns for the truck.

  It’s time to get the fuck out of town.

  10

  SOMETHING FEELS OFF today.

  When the guys picked me up this afternoon, they greeted me with their usual enthusiasm, sweeping me up in tight hugs and sensual kisses.

  But something was different, too. There’s a heaviness in the air, like a weight hanging over all of us.

  Or hell, maybe it’s just me.

  Maybe all the crazy activities I’ve thrown myself into are finally catching up with me and I’m just off-kilter today.

  I slept like it was a contest last night — after my massage, I just crashed onto the big bed at the resort. I woke up in the same position I’d fallen asleep in, drool on my pillow.

  These guys know how to wear me out, in all the best ways. If it weren’t for them, my vacation would have been spent meandering around town, poking my nose into a few shops, spending my time on the slopes, maybe braving a few more hiking trails.

  Not that any of that would have been bad. The area is beautiful, the resort is top-notch, and I’m hundreds of miles away from Jason.

  If I hadn’t tumbled down that ravine and been scooped up by these three amazing guys, it still would have been a fine vacation.

  But not the time of my life.

  Not like it’s been with them.

  Funny how the first thing I did when I woke up late this morning was reach out on both sides of me, expecting my fingers to touch the firm warmth of Colt, Wes, or Remi. Then I opened my eyes and realized I was at the resort by myself.

  We all needed a good night of sleep after our Olympic-level sexcapades the other night, but damn... I really do not like waking up without them.

  I don’t know how the fuck I’m going to go back to my empty ass apartment in the city now. There’s just... well, there’s just nothing waiting for me there. My family doesn’t live there — not that their presence would be any sort of perk, even if they did. And the consulting service I started could easily be done from just about anywhere.

  Lately I’ve been daydreaming about what it would be like to move here, to Meadowbrook. I don’t even know how the guys would feel about it, whether they’d be delighted to continue what we’ve started, or if the idea would sound alarmingly crazy to them — but that hasn’t stopped me from eyeing the apartment listings in the paper that gets delivered to my room each morning.

  Beyond my fantasy perusal of the classifieds, I’m trying not to even think about how few days are left in my vacation, but waking up alone today was a harsh reminder.

  So I intend to enjoy every second I can with them.

  After they picked me up, the guys brought me up to the cabin. As far as I know, there are no big plans for the day. We’re just hanging out, and it’s wonderful.

  Colt finally lets me help him in the kitchen, and together we whip up a feast for lunch. It’s the perfect hearty meal for a winter day, and soon we’re all stuffed and eyeing each other, wondering who’s going to be brave enough to eat the last scoop of potato and ham casserole.

  Then Wes and I peruse the big bookshelf that lines one corner of the cabin, and I’m delighted to find not one, but four of my favorite novels in their collection.

  Of course, they belong to Wes.

  I ask him if he realizes they’re all love stories, and he tells me to shut up.

  “It’s an epic period piece. Historical fiction,” he tries to tell me, referring to Memoirs of a Geisha.

  I laugh. “Okay, whatever you need to tell yourself.”

  A new book in my hand, I curl up beside of Remi to read while Wes and Colt kick back in the leather easy chairs on either side of the couch.

  Instead of opening the book, I look at my guys one at a time, soaking them in. The sense of something being off-kilter is still lingering in the air ever so lightly, but right now it’s so lovely, just lounging lazily in front of the fireplace with them.

  I love when they take me out on the mountain and share stories about their lives, show me all the beauty of their land and the places that are special to them.

  But I love these quiet times, too.

  When it’s just the four of us and there’s nothing happening except our togetherness.

  Remi’s eyes are going shut as he holds me, and his brothers are looking pretty close to nodding off, too. Full stomachs and a warm fire — the recipe for putting the Stone guys to sleep.

  I’ve been trying to work up the courage to broach a subject that’s been nagging at me for a few days.

  I’ve run through a dozen opening lines in my head, but they all sound forced or cheesy or just down right nosy. I’ve gotta ask, though.

  Technically, the room at the resort is booked through the weekend after Christmas. But I sure as hell don’t want to spend the holiday sitting at the resort alone. I’m dying to know what the guys will be doing, and if there’s any room for me in those plans.

  They haven’t said much about their family or how they celebrate the holidays, but they must do something.

  Perhaps they go to Tank and Natalie’s for the day. Or maybe Ann comes in and they have some kind of long-standing tradition they all do together. Or maybe they have other relatives in the area that are expecting them to come over for a big meal.

  Whatever their plans are, I don’t want to intrude.

  I mean... I kinda do, but I’m not going to be that person — the one who invites themselves to a private family gathering on a special occasion.

  “So, what are you guys doing for Christmas?” It sounds less casual and nonchalant than I planned, but at least I finally got the question out.

  Colt blinks at me slowly with sleepy eyes. “Whaddya mean?”

  “You know, what’s your tradition for the holidays? What do you do normally do on Christmas day?”

  I feel Remi tense beside me, and all three of the guys share a quick look I can’t interpret.

  “Uh, well, we don’t really do anything,” Wes says.

  My heart leaps a little at that news, because it means maybe we can spend the day together after all, but the guarded tone of their reactions has my curiosity piqued.

  “Nothing?” I ask. “You don’t exchange gifts or go to someone’s house for Christmas dinner?”

  Colt shakes his head and leans forward to pour another splash of whiskey in his glass.

  Remi kisses my forehead and strokes a hand across my hair. “No, we don’t really do Christmas. Haven’t for years.”

  “Oh.” It’s obviously not a favorite topic, and the tension I see in their expressions gives me a twinge of sadness.

  I look around, realizing there’s not a single decoration in the cabin. No Christmas tree. Not even a wreath on the door or Christmas cards in the stack of mail on the side table. Maybe it’s just because they’re guys and thi
s place is kind of a man cave, but now that I consider it, the absence of anything holiday related is kinda strange.

  “Well, I don’t have anything planned, if you want to do something? I could cook us a nice dinner.”

  The suggestion has barely left my mouth when the loud death rattle of an arriving vehicle hits my ears.

  Instantly, all three of them are on alert. Remi’s breathing halts for a moment, and Colt and Wes sit straight up in their chairs.

  Not once since I’ve been coming up here have the brothers had company. At first, I’m intrigued by this turn of events, but when I see the anger and apprehension written all over their faces, a seed of worry grows inside me.

  “Well... wanna bet on who’s just graced us with his presence?” Wes asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

  “It’d be our fucking luck,” Remi says in a low growl.

  A car door slams out front, followed by a few slurred curse words. Even from the limited vocabulary, I can tell that the visitor is worse for wear and obviously intoxicated.

  Colt sneers and curses under his breath as he retrieves his boots from the hearth.

  “Fuck,” Remi says, untangling himself from me. “He just had to show up now.”

  They shove their feet into their boots in a hurry. Remi’s done first, and he storms toward the cabin door, with Colt following right behind him.

  Wes throws his palm up and gives me a serious look as he stands up. “Stay here.”

  I glance at him, my concern growing. “What’s going on?”

  He’s already moving toward the door, on the same warpath as his brothers. “Just stay here, please.”

  I stay inside as requested, but the ill-fitting front door doesn’t close behind Wes, and I can hear and see what’s going on outside as though I were standing on the porch.

  An older man is out there, nearly empty liquor bottle in hand as he surveys the brothers’ big truck with a sneer. “Ben told me you got yourselves a new truck.”

  Colt sighs with exasperation and crosses his arms as he stares at the man. “We drove you home from the hospital in it the other day. It’s shocking that you don’t remember, given how many snide comments you made about it. You also probably don’t remember that we spent the whole goddamn day babysitting your sorry ass, against our better judgement.”