Upper Hand (Cedar Tree Book 5)

by Freya Barker

  “I’ll put him in his seat, you should get your coat on before you get sick, too.”

  I allow him to take Max from my arms, but in a childish act of defiance, I toss my jacket into the passenger seat and slip in behind the wheel—teeth almost chattering with the cold. I startle when Clint leans over the back of the front seat and holds something out to me.

  “Here, I grabbed these. Max is gonna need ‘em.” I don’t look at what he pushes in my hand. Not until he’s safely backed out of the car and shuts the door. I don’t really have to see to know he just pushed Max’s medication in my hand. The sweet concern behind that hits me hard, and I quickly start the car and back up before I let those tears run unchecked down my face. Damn.

  -

  -

  Tough. Standing here watching her drive away, but I’m letting her have this play. Fucked up as it may be, I think she needs to walk away with the upper hand this time, and I’m going to let her.

  When I walk back in, Neil has an amused look on his face, but Gus’s eyes are concerned.

  “We messed that up,” he says solemnly. “I’ve already put a call in to Mal, who’s gonna keep an eye out until you can straighten this shit out. Don’t need to tell you that the type of people that son of hers has gotten involved with won’t stop at anything to get their money. The raid on that chop shop is only going to add urgency. Tell me again what he said when he dropped the little guy off and on the phone?”

  For the next half hour we go over what little I know from firsthand observation and what Beth has told me. When Neil assures me he can keep track of her calls through an app he installed on the cell phone of every person in our group, I’m pissed. Gus jumps in to admit it was on his instructions Neil did it and would only be used in emergencies. So much has happened in the past few years to our friends that he wanted a chance to protect them should anything happen. Now that’s something I can understand. Hell, I did the same with Beth, trying to protect her, although it didn’t quite pan out the way I anticipated.

  “Fine,” I give in. “But I’m not going to lie to her again, not even by omission. So that phone app thingy? It’s gonna come up and unless you want a mutiny on your hands, I suggest you inform whoever has that...thing on their cells.”

  “Understood,” Gus replies without much enthusiasm. “But just for safety’s sake, why don’t you give Neil yours, so he can hook you up too. Yours is the only one we haven’t had access to.”

  “Are you for real? You want to bug my phone?”

  Gus just shrugs his shoulders unapologetically. “With you in the hospital there hasn’t been an opportunity.”

  My instinct is to say hell no, but then my mind starts working. I’m planning to stick as close to Beth as she’ll let me, and the thought of having that one extra bit of security in place may not be such a bad thing. I trust Gus.

  With some lingering reluctance I fish my phone from my back pocket and hand it over to Neil. It takes him less than two minutes before handing it back to me.

  “All done,” is all he says, smiling his cocky smile. “It’ll only be accessed in an emergency, but it may be helpful to know it has an emergency feature. Press the pound key three times and hit send and an alarm will go off on my computer or my phone,” Neil continues. “Something we probably should inform everyone else about as well, if the cat’s gonna claw its way out of the bag.”

  Not long after, the guys get up to leave, but Gus lingers by the front door, clapping me on my shoulder.

  “Shouldn’t let too much time pass before you go after her. These women here are made of strong and stubborn stuff. My guess is she’ll hole up with her friends in no time, and they’re even more impressive as a group.”

  Damn.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “He what?”

  “I’m telling you it scared the shit out of me. Pulled right out in front of me, just as I was pulling into my street. Intentional too, I’m sure of it. The guy just sat there, pointed at me and then to his own eyes and took off again.”

  The sudden stop had jarred Max from the light doze he was drifting into and made him cry. Out of nowhere, this sleek black car pulled out of a drive and right into the road. If I hadn’t had my wits about me, I’d have broadsided him. By the time I dislodged my stomach from my throat, the guy was already staring at me, sending shivers down my back.

  “You need to call Gus, right now,” Arlene urges. “If what you told me about Dylan, that he may have gotten involved with the wrong people, is true, then you’ve gotta take this seriously.”

  “Not calling him. I’m home now, Max is in his own bed, finally. I’m sure I’m just being overly dramatic.”

  “Fine, then I’m coming over.”

  Before I have a chance to dissuade her, she hangs up.

  Sure enough, not fifteen minutes later, she’s knocking at my door. Damn woman. She’s not alone either; close behind her is Emma. The cavalry has arrived.

  I wave them in and as seems to be the custom, they make their way into the kitchen where they both sit down at the table.

  “What was the make of the car?” Emma wants to know. Being married to Gus, some of him must’ve rubbed off on her, because she looked to be all business. I stifle a snicker, because Emma looks far from a hard-nosed investigator with her riot of curls and sweet round face.

  “It was a dark color; black or maybe deep blue, it was hard to tell. I don’t know make but I know it was a four-door and looked expensive. Oh, and the back windows were blacked out. You know? That dark tinted glass?” I just realize that even in my shock, I was able to pick up a few details. Walking over to the table with mugs and the coffeepot, I see Emma open her mouth for the next question when her phone rings.

  “Hey, honey.” Her face goes from serious to soft at the sound of her man’s voice. I can hear his rumble on this side of the table. Asshat.

  “So. Wanna tell me why you’re suddenly here and not at Clint’s place?” Arlene pins me with a look as Emma’s soft voice continues in the background.

  “Not particularly, no.”

  “Spill.”

  Knowing she won’t let up—it’s simply not in her genetic make-up—I let out a deep sigh. “Fine. I found out that Clint kept some pretty important information from me. All in the name of not ‘upsetting’ me. Bastard. Don’t know why he thinks he can just bulldoze right over me with his charm, feed me lines about not wanting to control me, when at the first opportunity he takes charge. Your Gus is no better.” I point at Emma, who just hung up the phone and looks surprised.

  “Why? What did he do?”

  “Oh, he went to Clint with information about Dylan. Not to me, mind you, his mother, but to Clint. As if my constitution is to weak to take the news. Fucking men.” I’m rolling now and open my mouth for the next volley when Arlene’s hand on my arm stops me.

  “You’re pissed, I get that, but for God’s sake woman, what information about Dylan?”

  Just like that, my little self-righteous balloon deflates. Worked well as a distraction for the bigger issue, for a bit, but I can’t ignore the real danger Dylan’s gotten himself into.

  “He’s in big trouble,” I start and in as much detail as I have, I tell them about the APB on his car, about the raid, and about the bit of news that these idiots had tried to keep from me, his gambling problems.

  “I never liked that Tammy bitch,” Arlene commiserates.

  “You’ve only seen her twice. At a distance,” I point out, an inadvertent smile on my lips at Arlene’s fervent defense of anyone she considers her family.

  “Doesn’t matter, I could tell even from that distance she’s got shifty eyes and dresses like she’s a fucking runway model. Never liked her,” she reiterates.

  “So let me get this straight, Gus didn’t talk to you about this but went straight to Clint? The man who all but two-three weeks ago was no more than a drooling vegetable in a hospital bed? Ohhh, I’m gonna have to have a word with that overbearing caveman.” From the look on
her face, he’s in for it. “Now I get why he was calling to find out how my day was going, whether I wanted to go for lunch in Cortez. Bastard was trying to get me out of the way. Good thing I mentioned I was already hanging out with Arlene. I never said where we were, otherwise I’m positive he’d show up on your doorstep, too.”

  “Tell me about Clint.”

  I look at Arlene whose question surprises me. Far from the touchy feely type—much like me—this is something I’d have expected Emma or Naomi to ask, heck even Katie, before hearing it from Arlene’s lips. All she does is raise her eyebrow impatiently.

  “Not much to tell other than that he’s a typical male chauvinist pig.”

  “Well, I can’t argue with that,” Arlene chuckles, having had her own run ins with Clint in the past.

  “I actually don’t think he’s that bad,” Emma pipes up. “He says things by rote, but I don’t think he really believes them. More like an ingrained pattern, you know?”

  “Ingrained or inbred?” Arlene jokes before focusing back on me. “But that’s not what I was asking. Something’s changed, I can almost smell it on you.”

  “God, I hope not,” I answer, unable to keep the smug sound out of my voice. I did after all get my mind blown by the cretin last night.

  “Oh Jesus, don’t make that face, that’s just creepy. You had sex with him, didn’t you?”

  Now it’s my turn to raise an eyebrow but with a different message in mind.

  Emma leans over the table conspiratorially. “And?”

  “Bossy, big, and unbelievable.”

  Emma sighs as she leans back in her chair. “I wonder if these guys go to a special academy for that. They all seem to have those things in common.”

  “Bossy?” Arlene again whose uncanny intuition must’ve picked up on the vibe underlying that statement.

  “You could say...” I let my voice trail off in an effort to steer clear of that particular topic, but Arlene looks at me through squinted eyelids.

  “He better not be mistreating you.”

  I let that go, because frankly, I’m not quite ready to explore all the reasons why I enjoy giving up control in the bedroom—of all places.

  Max’s little voice provides the perfect diversion. By the time I have him cleaned up and settled into his own highchair—the one Mal had brought over—at the counter with a drink, nosy Arlene has forgotten all about Clint’s bedroom prowess. She’s so engaged in Max’s limited babbling, she never even notices the knowing smirk Emma sends me. It’s always the silent ones who see more than you’re willing to show.

  Realizing my kitchen cupboards and fridge are still empty, Emma suggests a move to her place for some lunch. Glad for the distraction from a growing sense of unease in my own house, I grab some things for Max before following them in my car across town. Max muttering happily to himself in the backseat puts a smile on my face, but I still have the presence of mind to check my surroundings carefully. I’m not ready for another encounter with the fancy car. There’s been enough excitement for today.

  -

  -

  I have no excuse other than that the house seems mockingly empty after Gus and Neil take their leave. I almost hang up when the phone turns over on the other side, but I figure I’d kill two birds with one stone.

  “Mason Brothers, Jed speaking.”

  His voice has a dual impact on me; the instant anger, which seems to have become second nature when dealing with my brother, and regret for the loss of what was once a great relationship.

  “You wanted a chance to talk.”

  “Clint? Yes, I do. Where are you?”

  “Home.”

  “Is Beth with you?”

  Immediately the leftover hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I don’t like the sound of her name from his mouth, dammit. Automatically my defenses kick in.

  “Beth is no concern to you,” I bite off, struggling to keep my temper in check. From the other side all I hear is a deep sigh before he starts talking.

  “I was only checking because I don’t know how much you’ve told her about our history. I know I haven’t said anything. Wasn’t my place.” He’s being reasonable and I hate it.

  “She’s not here, if that’s what you want to know.”

  “It is and I’ll be there in twenty. I’m at the reno in Cortez.”

  With that he hangs up and I slowly put my phone down, trying to ignore the pounding in my chest. Other than that brief glimpse of him at the hospital and our very short but tense interaction in a clinic full of people, I haven’t been in the same room alone with him since I beat the crap out of him years ago. Should be interesting.

  It’s more like twenty-five minutes when I hear the familiar sound of my own truck pulling up. The irony of that does not escape me. Truth is, we have the business to discuss, what to expect in the short term, and then there is the cesspool of our past that needs to be waded through. Despite the fact that I don’t trust the man around Beth, I don’t for a minute doubt that he’s doing well by the business. The one we had built up together so successfully—and the same one I forced him out of, when he betrayed me by taking up with my wife. I was always more devastated by his betrayal then by hers. Had it been anyone else, I’d probably have walked away, wiping my hands clean of the marriage and glad to do so. But for your flesh and blood to...

  The heavy tread of footsteps on the front porch, followed by a distinct rap on the door that apparently hasn’t changed over the years—long, short, short, long—interrupts my thoughts before I can get myself all worked up again.

  Opening the door Jed stands there, looking at me from under the brim of his ball cap. I try not to notice the pain and uncertainty in his expression. I’m sure it’s close to matching my own. Standing back, I invite him in with a wave of my hand. Time hasn’t been kind on him. At three years younger, we used to look a lot alike. Some had thought we were twins. But now he surprises me with his gaunt appearance, making him seem much older than his forty-three years. What used to be smile lines are now deep grooves that only emphasize the hollow look on his face. I can’t help but wonder if I simply don’t see the test of time as much on my own. Aside from the pesky silver strands that make my facial hair look grey. Jed’s hair is almost completely gone that route. He looks old and tired, it gives me an empty feeling in my chest.

  He comes to a stop by the couch and looks for silent permission to sit. Again I limit myself to a wave of my hand before I can bring myself to speak.

  “Drink?” I manage.

  “Just water if you have it.”

  Armed with two bottles from the fridge, I find him standing by the mantle that holds a few old family photos, his hat discarded on the coffee table. I brought them out after I bought this house, not sure why. Maybe as a reminder of good times or to make it feel more like a home, who knows?

  “Remember that waterhole Dad used to take us fishing? I almost drowned there once, if it hadn’t been for you.” His voice is soft but I hear every word clearly.

  “I remember,” my voice croaks. “You were so gung-ho to hang that rope swing, you spent days trying to get me to take you. Then you went and hit your head on a rock we hadn’t seen under the water on your first jump in. Damn, Pops was mad at us. Couldn’t sit for a week after he was done tanning my hide.” The bittersweet memory pulls my mouth into a reluctant smile.

  Jed chuckles, the sound so familiar and yet it grates on me.

  “So talk.” I force both of us away from happier times.

  Sitting down, Jed downs almost half his bottle before setting it carefully on the coffee table.

  “Not sure where to start,” he huffs out a bitter sounding laugh. “All the time growing up, I looked up to you. Always bigger, stronger, better and I aspired to it, but never quite was able to catch up. Mom and Pop didn’t help with their ‘wall of fame’ of all your awards and diplomas, I think I had a second grade drawing make it to the fridge door once, that was about it. Don’t really know why it was still under m
y skin after growing up. I honestly thought I’d grown out of it, but when Luanne showed up at my door in tears, claiming you weren’t treating her right, I jumped at the opportunity to be better at something, for once.” He pauses, running his hand through his messy mop, waiting for my reaction.

  Well, other than the deadly grip I have on my water, I’m not saying a damn thing. Not sure what would come out of my mouth anyway.

  “I need you to understand none of this is an excuse for what I did, but I’ve done a fuck-load of soul searching these past few years. Thinking about life, about things that are important, and things that I regret; and there are a lot of those. I’ve found ways to deal with most of those, but this? This is eating away at me. Was even then, although I would’ve denied it at the time.”

  “Why?” I’m finally able to speak.

  “Because I always felt inferior to you, not by something you did, I realize that now, but it was there all the same. I’d always been a little in love with her, probably ’cause she represented another thing I couldn’t have. She gave me an opportunity to gain the upper hand, for once. And she was only using me to get to you. Pretty fucked up.” Again he stops to finish off the bottle, risking a glance in my direction, but I stay still.

  “After everything went to shit, we tried to make something of it, but her heart wasn’t in it—never was. If I hadn’t been so high off scoring a fantasy, I would’ve realized, much sooner, that the fantasy was much better than reality turned out to be.”

  Restless, he gets up and walks back over to the mantle where he picks up the photo of him and I, side by side with a big catfish between us, one that Pops took.

  “I’m so damn sorry. I honestly don’t know what I was thinking. Got my own back though...”

  He lets his voice trail off baiting me to ask, so I oblige.

  “How’s that?”

  He chuckles to himself, shaking his head. “What do you think? Not even a year after we...after you divorced her, she wanted to get married again. I had a good job and had the payout for Mason Brothers still in the bank, I figured I was pretty settled and this was probably a natural next move. A weekend in Vegas did the trick. Even then I remember thinking what a really fucking bad idea that probably was. I think it was not three months after that I found her in bed with my boss. I got a lawyer right away and filed for divorce, which I got, but not until after she cleaned me out.”