by Larissa Ione
Logan cocked a dark eyebrow. “I'm guessing he didn’t take it well.”
“He tried to. Tried to fake it, anyway.”
Leaning against a support post, Logan hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans and studied Marcus with that steely-eyed gaze of his. The one that always made Marcus feel like his friend saw right through him. “You worried you made the wrong decision?”
“No. I have to be here. Maybe someday after things here are settled and Brit graduates from college, we could move back...” He trailed off, surprised at what had just come out of his mouth.
If the way Logan was gaping at him was any indication, he was just as shocked. “You’re really looking at a future with her? You sure you want to go down that bumpy-ass road?”
It was a legitimate question, especially given that he and Brit hadn’t been dating for that long, but still, Marcus bristled. “What do you mean by that?”
“Easy, man,” Logan said, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. “I only meant that you’ve never been serious about a woman in your life, and when you finally do get serious, it’s with someone who is going to bring a shit-ton of complications and baggage.”
“Oh, hey,” Marcus drawled, “don’t hold anything back.”
Logan shook his head. “It’s just that you also haven’t been dating that long, so it’s surprising to hear you thinking long term. Just...be careful.”
A sense of déjà vu throbbed through him in an almost physical ache. “You know, I seem to recall having this exact conversation, except I was the one grilling you.”
Logan snorted. “Yeah, and look how that turned out. You were right. Of all my friends and family, you were the only one who was straight with me about Ginny. You tried to warn me.”
He wished he hadn’t been right. “For which I got a sore jaw and bruised ribs.”
A wry smile turned up one side of Logan’s mouth. “Yeah, well, you were a little too straight with me.”
It was something he regretted. Ginny had done a stupid thing, but he didn’t believe she was a terrible person. Then again, he wasn’t the guy she’d hurt.
The front door opened and Dakota started out, but she froze when she saw Logan. “Oh. Um...I didn’t know you were here. I’ll just go around back.”
“It’s okay,” Logan said, almost tiredly.
Dakota slipped outside, her gaze uncharacteristically downcast. She’d been pretty subdued since she’d moved in after she lost her job and apartment a couple of weeks ago—as long as no one mentioned anything to do with the fiasco she’d caused. At that point, she’d become defensive and defiant, followed by hours of sullen silence until she went back to being almost...normal. She’d even done the dishes a few times, and this morning she’d vacuumed and dusted.
“I think she’s genuinely sorry,” Mallory had said last night, “but she can’t apologize because she can’t admit that she did anything wrong. Nothing is ever her fault. She’s just like Dad.”
If Dakota was just like their dad, she’d never admit that she’d done anything wrong. She’d lay the blame for what she’d done at everyone else’s feet, and then she’d let the guilt eat away at her like a cancer, until it turned to poison and caused her to lash out yet again. It would be a vicious cycle, and she’d hurt everyone around her over and over.
Marcus wished Ian were here. He’d know what to do. Marcus had been a lot like Dakota when he’d first arrived at the ranch, except he’d used his fists instead of public venues to take down his enemies.
“I’m going to run to the grocery store,” she said, her gaze fixed on her car as if she was intentionally avoiding looking at Logan. Maybe she was finally learning some humility. “Do you need anything?”
Marcus said no, and she hightailed it out of there like her feet were on fire.
After the car backed out of the driveway, Logan let out a long, slow breath, as if he’d been holding it. “That was awkward.”
“Try living with her,” Marcus muttered. “It’s all small talk or silence.” Punctuated by defensive outbursts, of course.
“I want to hate her,” Logan said, “and I did, at first. But now I mostly feel sorry for her.”
“That only lasts until you bring up anything related to Founders’ Day or the fallout. Then she goes crazy and you forget to feel sorry for her.” Exhausted by his sister’s behavior, he scrubbed his hand over his face. “I don’t know how to deal with her. She won’t let down her walls enough to have a rational conversation.”
“How long is she staying here?”
“Until she gets a job and a place to live.” A breeze made the trees rustle and brought the faint odor of cattle. It reminded him of Ian’s ranch and made him a little homesick. Strange that he still thought of Montana as home even though he’d just committed to staying here. “But that could be a while. No one will hire her. They’re all afraid of Marylee. Well, that and the reporters who seem to crawl out of the woodwork and jump out of the shadows whenever she shows up somewhere.”
“They’re still hounding her, huh? I’ve seen them camped outside the Rush mansion and driving around town, but I figured that things would have died down a little after the senator made his announcement and denied everything.”
That had not gone over well with Dakota at all. Between Marcus, Mallory, and their mother, they’d been able to keep Dakota reined in, but yesterday while she was out job hunting, a local reporter had caught her unprepared, and she’d called Sebastian a few choice names. On camera, of course.
Aside from the fact that she’d violated the terms of the nondisclosure agreement she’d signed—without consulting a lawyer first—now they couldn’t turn on the TV without seeing how the public was lambasting her. Mallory figured Dakota could use a little tough love, but Marcus questioned her emotional stability, and the last thing she, the family, or the town needed was for her to self-destruct even worse than she’d already done.
As it was, he wondered how long it would be before a Rush lawyer showed up at the door to discuss Dakota’s media blast yesterday that was probably in violation of the agreement she’d signed.
“They’re definitely still hounding her,” Marcus said. “They even caught Mom the other day when she went to pick up her paycheck from Marylee.”
Logan shoved his hand through his hair. “She’s still working for that witch?”
“For now,” Marcus ground out.
He wasn’t happy about the situation at all. With Dakota living here, there was an extra mouth to feed, and his mother refused to take the money he’d offered to help out. He paid for stuff when he could—he did most of the grocery shopping, and he tried to get hold of the bills before she did, but man, she got pissed every time she found out he’d made a car or utilities payment for her.
If only she’d gotten as angry when Hector beat her or drank or gambled away the grocery money.
On the upside, maybe the fact that she was showing anger at all was a positive sign. Because for the first time that he could remember, she was standing up for herself and taking the lead in family affairs. So it was a good thing, he supposed, if not frustrating as hell.
Logan’s cell buzzed. Excusing himself, he dug it out of his pocket. “Shit,” he growled, glaring at the text message on the screen. “My mom says Uncle Zeke called. The town’s awards committee wants to honor me in some stupid ceremony next week.” His fingers flew across the screen, and then his thumb mashed down on the Send button. “No way. Uncle Zeke is the mayor. All people will see is nepotism.”
“Come on.” Marcus leaned against the porch railing. “That’s bullshit and you know it. Everyone here is proud of you. You’re the town hero.”
“I’m no hero,” Logan muttered.
“Said every hero ever.”
Logan pegged him with a hard stare. “Don’t even start this crap—” He broke off as another text beeped. “Dammit.”
“What now?”
“Mom said it’s a done deal. She already said I’d be there
. They promised it’ll be a small event. Friends and family mainly.” He texted her back, cursing under his breath the entire time. “I’m not speaking about my time in the military. I don’t care what they say. They can kiss my ass.”
Logan’s jaw clenched and he held the phone so tightly his knuckles went white. Shadows flickered in his eyes, ghosts he was seeing that Marcus couldn’t. What he did recognize was the beginning of a dark descent, something he’d seen far too many times in his life, including a few instances when he’d looked in the mirror.
“Hey, buddy.” Marcus clamped his hand down on Logan’s shoulder, grounding him in the here and now. “This is a good thing. With all this shit going down, the town needs someone to look up to, and before you tell me that person isn’t you, listen to me. You went through things no one here can even begin to understand, and you came back alive and healthy. That’s something to celebrate. Give that to them. You can do it. Most importantly, you deserve it even if you don’t believe it.”
For a long time, Logan seemed to concentrate on simply breathing. Eventually, his grip on the phone loosened, and his jaw unclenched. “Will you...” He cleared his throat of the hoarseness. “Will you be there?”
“Duh. You need hecklers.”
That finally got a smile out of him. “I can always count on you. Now, are we going to grab Brit and see a movie, or what?”
It had been Marcus’s idea to get her out of the house but still stay out of the public eye and the media’s lenses, and he’d figured Logan needed something to concentrate on besides work and Ginny, so a movie sounded perfect.
He just wished the rest of life’s problems could be fixed so easily.
Chapter Five
YOU ARE DEAD MEAT.
Jeffry Rush ripped off his headset and stared at the ominous words formed out of blood spatter on his computer screen.
Stupid video game. He was never going to make it past the zombie horde.
Dude, I can’t believe you let that dickhead smoke you. Luis’s in-game message flashed in the message box on the screen. Now that Jeffry was out of the game, Luis wasn’t going to last long, and the zombies were only half the problem. Two players from Germany and Israel had teamed up as human scavengers, and humans were far, far more dangerous than any game-programmed zombie.
I guess I’m a little distracted, Jeffry typed back. But these guys are really good.
Luis’s character blew a zombie’s head off. Shit, hold on.
Jeffry waited while Luis took out two more zombies with shots to the head and another with a machete. The Israeli player flanked him from out of nowhere, and as Luis turned to blast him, the German shivved him in the kidney.
See, Jeffry typed, they’re sneaky.
Wanna play again? Luis asked. Against another team, maybe? I don’t have anything else to do.
You could go hang out with Mallory. Jeffry typed one-handed while he munched a handful of microwave popcorn. If you’re afraid of Marcus, he’s going to be at the movies with my sister and Logan tonight, so you can go see her without worrying about getting killed.
Cool, thanks. I might do that. What about you? Are there still reporters camped out at your house?
Ugh. Jeffry had grown up in the public eye and had never really been bothered by reporters. But after being constantly under siege, he’d be happy to never see one again. Not really. They show up now and then, but most of them are gone. What about your house?
Same. Ever since Ginny gave her statement, the press has mostly left us alone.
Ginny’s statement had been brilliant, neither confirming nor denying a relationship with Jeffry’s dad while emphasizing her friends-turned-lovers story about her and Jacob. Since Jacob’s medical records were private and Dakota had turned them over in return for not being prosecuted, there was no proof that anything Dakota said was true. Only the Salts could verify it, and until Sebastian was reelected and the baby was born, they’d agreed to keep quiet.
All Jeffry knew was that no matter who the father was, Ginny was going to be in for one hell of a fight when it came to custody.
Hey, I gotta go. Luis’s message popped onto the screen. Marisol’s home.
Marisol didn’t allow Luis to play computer games for more than an hour a day, so he had to sneak computer time when she wasn’t home.
See ya. Tell Mal hi for me if you go over there.
K. Bye.
Luis logged off, and Jeffry headed downstairs to make a snack more filling than popcorn. As he hit the bottom landing, he heard shouting coming from his parents’ bedroom. Brittany hovered nearby, worrying her bottom lip and wrapping her newly highlighted blonde hair around her fingers the way she did when she was stressed.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“I don’t know.”
He winced at his mother’s muffled curse coming through the closed door. She didn’t swear often, so when she did, he knew shit was getting real. “They never fight like this.”
Brittany frowned. “I know. I don’t think I’ve ever heard them scream at each other.”
“You disgust me, you egotistical, insufferable bastard.” Payton’s voice drifted out into the hall. “You are a pathetic excuse for a husband, but of all your failings, your worst, by far, is your failure as a parent.”
The door whipped open, and Payton stormed out. When she saw Jeffry and Brittany standing there, she sucked in a startled breath.
“Oh.” She pulled the door closed behind her and covertly tried to dab at the wetness in her eyes. “I didn’t know you two were out here.”
“Is everything okay?” Brit asked, even though it was clear that everything was not okay.
“Your father and I were just having a disagreement.” Her hands flitted over her pearl necklace, her matching earrings, and her silk blouse, as if frantically trying to reassure herself that she was still perfectly together—on the outside, at least. “Nothing to worry about.” She pasted on a bright smile, but it was as fake as her fingernails. “Brittany, didn’t you say you had a movie date? And Jeffry, did you ever call that girl I saw giving you her number outside of school? What was her name? Nina?”
He groaned, both at his mother’s lame attempt to change the subject and at the idea of calling Nina. She was cute and popular, but he just wasn’t interested. Girls were weird and way too full of drama.
“Look, Mom,” Brittany said. “How about we go do something this afternoon? Just you, me, and Jeffry. The way we used to do when you got stir-crazy when Dad was away in Austin.”
“You mean when I got you in the car, promising you ice cream, and we’d drive until we found something fun to do?”
That sounded kind of cool to Jeffry. Plus, it would get Mom out of the house and get her mind off everything their father had done. She’d been so strong in the face of his betrayal, but her red-rimmed eyes and pale, drawn face said she’d reached her limit.
“I heard they opened that ghost town up north,” Jeffry said. “It’s supposed to be really sick. They have a stage coach shootout show and everything.”
Brittany gave him an are you serious look. No doubt she’d prefer to go to the mall or something. But she played along. “Yeah, that sounds great. Let’s go.”
“Oh, honey,” Payton said. “That’s an hour drive, and I thought you had plans with Marcus.”
Brit shook her head. “I’ll text him and cancel. Logan is going to the movies with him too, so he won’t be alone. It’s fine.”
At first, Jeffry thought his mom would refuse, but when he threw in a sincere, “Please, Mom,” she smiled and hugged them both.
“How did I get such wonderful children?” She pulled back, her eyes brimming with tears. “I love you so much.”
“We love you, too,” Jeffry said, and for the first time since the shit had hit the fan—heck, for the first time in years, maybe—he felt like they were a real family again.
Weird though, that it only felt that way because Sebastian wasn’t with them.
Chapte
r Six
Payton had never been so exhausted in her life. Not even in the immediate days following what Jeffry had deemed “Foundersgate” had she been this emotionally strung out.
By some miracle she’d managed to keep herself together today. But the fight with Sebastian had taken its toll. And while she’d loved spending time connecting with Jeffry and Brittany, it had made her realize she didn’t know them as well as she should. And finally, after a day of highs and lows, she was on the verge of a breakdown.
She’d always prided herself on being strong, on being the kind of person who didn’t fall apart easily. Now she was at the end of her rope and it didn’t even seem odd that she found herself knocking on Francine’s door at ten o’clock at night, because this was the one place where she felt safe.
The door swung open, and a huge sense of relief washed over her at the sight of Francine in black yoga pants and a sapphire blue oversized blouse that swung loosely around her slender thighs. Her dark, curly hair was mussed and delightfully casual, and if the rosy blush in her cheeks was any indication, she’d been into the red wine tonight.
“Payton,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“I’m sorry, if this is a bad time—”
“Of course not.” Francine stepped back, allowing Payton inside. “Tate was just leaving.”
Tate Johnson was here? Payton glanced out at the driveway and groaned. How could she have missed that SUV parked right there?
“Good to see you, Payton.” Tate emerged from the living room and walked toward the entryway, cowboy hat in hand, his boots striking the floor in heavy thuds. “I’m sorry I haven’t come by the house with my father to talk more about election strategy, but I’ll see you and Senator Rush at Logan Murphy’s award ceremony?”