No Laughing Matter: Lennox Brothers Romantic Comedy

by Hunter, Talia

  For a moment the ladder teetered on the edge of going over. Then my stomach swooped and the ground rushed toward me.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Mason

  I was at Asher’s place, looking through some information Griffin had sent, when my phone rang. Dad’s name flashed onto the screen.

  “We’re waiting for you,” he said when I answered. “How soon will you be here?”

  “Be there? What for?”

  “Kade’s arrived from LA. We’re meeting at my place, remember?”

  “But it’s only four thirty. I thought we were having dinner?”

  “Kade got in early, and he and Asher are already here. Can you come now?”

  I logged off the computer and got into the car for the five-minute drive to Dad’s place. When I drove up to his house, an ambulance was just pulling away from outside. Its lights started flashing, and I stopped and stared after it with my heart in my throat. Was Dad in the ambulance? Had he suffered a heart attack? Should I follow it?

  “Asher,” I yelled, jumping out of the car. “Kade! Are you inside?”

  I’d started toward Dad’s steps when his door opened and he stepped onto his front porch.

  “What are you yelling for?” Dad asked. “Come on, your brothers are waiting.”

  “The ambulance wasn’t here for you?” I took the steps three at a time. “You’re okay?”

  “It must have been here for one of the neighbors.” He glanced next door. “Maybe Trixie?”

  I spun around and jumped back down his front steps. I was halfway to Trixie Watson’s house when she hurried outside.

  “Trixie, are you okay?” I called.

  She barely spared me a glance, rushing toward her car. “It’s Carlotta.”

  “Carlotta?” My chest contracted. “What happened? Is she badly hurt?”

  “Stop interfering and stay away from my daughter.” Trixie slid into her car and glared at me before slamming the door.

  My heart was beating painfully fast. Carlotta’s attacker must have come back. Fixing the window latches hadn’t stopped him. He’d gotten in somehow, and now Carlotta was injured.

  “What’s going on?” yelled Dad from his porch. Asher came out onto the porch behind him, followed by Kade.

  “Hey Mason,” called Kade. “What’s up?”

  “Carlotta’s hurt,” I yelled back, sprinting to my car. Kade didn’t usually spend much time in San Dante, but he’d just been here for a few days over Christmas, so another reunion could wait.

  “Where are you going?” demanded Dad.

  “To the hospital.”

  “Why?”

  I tore open the car door. “What do you mean, why? Carlotta’s in the hospital, Dad, so you can take that stupid feud of yours and stow it. Kade, I’m sorry I can’t stick around now, but I’ll catch up with you later, okay?”

  Ignoring Dad’s disapproving grunt, I slammed the door and raced off after Trixie Watson’s dented orange car. After following her all the way to the hospital, I lost her in the parking lot in front of the Urgent Care Center when she swung into the only available parking space. It took me a while to find another, and by the time I got inside and went to the reception desk, there was no sign of Trixie.

  I asked at the front desk for Carlotta and the receptionist told me only immediate family were being allowed in. She shot me a sympathetic look. “Sorry, love. Her mother asked me to keep you out. She’s a character that one, isn’t she?”

  “Could you at least tell me how Carlotta is? Was she badly hurt? Is she going to be okay?”

  “I’m afraid patient information is confidential.”

  The receptionist wouldn’t budge and eventually I gave up, cursing under my breath as I strode back out.

  I was almost at my car when my phone rang. Dragging it out of my pocket, I saw it was Todd. He must have read my mind.

  “Tell me,” I said, sliding behind the wheel.

  “I tracked down the guy behind the FowlFetish account who’s been sending death threats to your friend.” Todd sounded smug. “Guess what? He’s the same guy who hacked her account.”

  “You’re sure?” I started the car.

  “Absolutely. That duck picture she posted really got him riled. He hacked her to upload the doctored photos with the dead birds, and he’s been threatening her every day since.”

  “Tell me who he is.”

  “Get this. His real name is Willie Stroker. And Willie isn’t even a nickname. It was what his parents called him. The guy has a record, but with a name like Willie Stroker, do you blame him? I’d be angry too.”

  “You have his address?” If the guy lived close, he was probably the one who threw paint at Carlotta and left shit on her mother’s porch. And today, he might have gone back to hurt her.

  “Willie lives near the Lindo Lake County Park. Big lake there. Good for birdwatchers.”

  He gave me the full address and I punched it into my GPS. “That’s only an hour away. He has to be the guy who attacked Carlotta. He’s obsessed with her. Do you have his picture?”

  “Sure do.”

  When it appeared on my phone, Willie Stroker matched Carlotta’s description perfectly, complete with tattoo.

  “That’s him.” I took off with a squeal of tires. I was gripping the wheel so hard my knuckles were white. “I’m going to make him regret everything he did to Carlotta.”

  “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.” Todd sounded worried. “Listen, you’re not going rogue, are you?”

  “Don’t worry, Todd. It won’t blow back onto you.”

  “Mason—”

  “My friend’s in the hospital. She’s injured. And I need answers.”

  “Willie put her in the hospital?”

  “That’s what I’m going to find out.”

  “Mason, if you don’t have proof, you shouldn’t go. That’s not how this is done.”

  “Relax. I’m going to talk to him, ask what he knows. If he didn’t hurt her, he has nothing to worry about.” That was a bare-faced lie. The mood I was in, I’d make FowlFetish tell me everything he’d done, no matter what it took to get the truth. Guess you couldn’t work for a ruthless drug cartel for six years without some of it rubbing off. And I’d do anything to keep the people I loved safe.

  “You said this wasn’t related to a case you were working.” Todd sounded more nervous than ever, as though he could hear the rage in my voice. “If you go knocking on doors and throwing your weight around, there’s going to be trouble.”

  “I’ll leave my badge behind and pay him a polite visit as a private citizen.”

  “Be careful, Mason.”

  “He’s the one who should be careful.” Clenching my jaw, I pulled the car onto the Interstate and floored it.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Carlotta

  I was lying under a bright florescent light with the granddaddy of all headaches. It felt like a crowd of ravers in stiletto heels were dancing inside my brain to a loud, thumping beat.

  Wincing, I opened my eyes.

  “Are you all right, Carlotta?” Mom sounded worried.

  I blinked, trying to focus on her over the pounding in my head. There were curtains around us. It looked like I was in the hospital. Had I been knocked out?

  “Sore head,” I moaned.

  “I’ll get you something.” Before I could stop her, she’d dashed out of my curtained-off cubicle, presumably in search of painkillers.

  While she was gone, I did a limb check. All four were still present and accounted for, and I could wriggle my toes and fingers. I couldn’t find any bandages. No visible wounds. But I was in pain.

  Lifting one hand, I gently touched my forehead.

  Ouch.

  The whole area was tender, as though I’d hit something solid. Like the floor from a great height, for example. Moving my hand to the side of my head, I found a lump that throbbed when I touched it.

  That’s right. I’d been on top of Mason’s ladder.
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  I must have struck my head on the metal ladder as I fell, knocking myself out. Then my face had hit the floor. That accounted for the wince-inducing dance party going on in my skull. Hopefully Mom would get me some industrial strength painkillers.

  A middle-aged nurse with a kind face bustled into my curtain cubicle. “Hi Carlotta, I’m Nurse Bartlew. How are you feeling?”

  I swallowed hard, because my throat was dry.

  “Thirsty,” I croaked.

  She reached to the nightstand beside the bed, and picked up a plastic cup with a straw in it. Bringing the straw to my lips, she held the cup so I could suck up the liquid like a helpless infant. The water was lukewarm, but it went down like liquid heaven. The frenzied dancing inside my skull even slowed.

  “Thank you,” I said when I’d drained the cup. My voice still sounded hoarse.

  “Any pain?” she asked.

  “My head hurts.” I swallowed again, because the water was gurgling as it dropped toward my stomach, and I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to hold it down.

  “Nausea?”

  I clamped my teeth together and nodded.

  “I’ll get you a bowl.” She vanished back out through the curtains.

  A few moments later, Mom pushed her way into my cubicle. “I couldn’t find the nurse,” she said with a frown. “What happened? I came home to find you on the floor.”

  “Ladder,” I managed. Even opening my mouth to speak a single word made me worry the water I’d consumed might come out with it.

  “I saw the ladder. But what were you doing at the top of it?”

  I lifted one shoulder in an apologetic shrug and swallowed, silently giving my stomach some mental encouragement. It was strong. It could hold down a little water. Easy peasy.

  “It was Mason Lennox’s ladder.” Mom scowled. “He wanted you to climb it. And after you fell, he left you there, helpless on the floor.”

  Before I could defend Mason, Nurse Bartlew reappeared through my cubicle’s curtains and handed me a bowl. I clutched it as my stomach did a sudden backflip. Maybe I should just let myself throw up. It might make me feel better.

  “Still want to vomit, love?” Nurse Bartlew checked my chart.

  I gave her a feeble nod.

  “Nausea’s fairly common after a blow to the head. The doctor will be in shortly, then we can give you something to settle your stomach.” She turned to Mom. “We can’t allow the police to take a statement from your daughter until after the doctor’s cleared her I’m afraid, Mrs. Watson.”

  “The police?” I croaked.

  The nurse put a reassuring hand on my arm. “In cases like this, it’s best if they handle it. Your mother can stay with you if you’d like. You don’t have to talk to them alone.”

  “I fell off a ladder.”

  Her kind eyes creased in the corners. “Uh-huh. You fell off a ladder, or walked into a door, or tripped down the stairs. I’ve heard it all, love. Somehow it’s never the man’s fault.”

  “What man?” I asked, confused. Then I aimed a glare at Mom. What had she been telling them?

  “More water?” asked my mother, not meeting my gaze. She slopped water from a jug into the cup and jammed the straw between my lips.

  “Looks like you’re in good hands,” Nurse Bartlew said. “I’ll pop back after the doctor’s been.” Before I could spit the straw from my mouth, she was gone.

  I fixed Mom with an accusing look.

  At least she had the grace to look guilty. “Well?” she asked defensively. “You can’t tell me Mason Lennox didn’t have anything to do with your fall. He rigged the ladder to topple, and I bet his father put him up to the whole thing. It’s exactly the kind of thing Edward would do.”

  Still glaring, I motioned her closer. “Mason. Had. Nothing. To. Do. With. It.” My voice was an angry hiss.

  “But you don’t know Edward Lennox like I do. You can’t trust him, or anyone who shares his DNA.”

  I sank back onto the bed, too exhausted to argue. My nausea was subsiding, but the dancing inside my skull had cranked up a notch, and whoever was in there had swapped their stilettos for concrete boots. Wincing, I closed my eyes and heard Mom sigh.

  “Sleep now,” she whispered.

  I would have answered if I could, but my exhaustion had wrapped itself tightly around me and I couldn’t summon the energy to talk. I wanted to doze. And in spite of Mom’s attempt to blame Mason, it was comforting to have her with me. I heard the scrape of a chair across the ground, and figured she’d dragged the guest chair closer to me.

  It felt like I’d barely dropped off to sleep before I was woken by voices. When I opened my eyes, a doctor was studying me.

  “How are you feeling?” she asked.

  “A little better.” I reached for the glass of water to soothe my dry throat, and Mom handed it to me.

  “Still nauseated?” The doctor moved closer, staring intently into my eyes. Possibly checking the dilation of my pupils, or making sure they didn’t drift off in different directions.

  “Not really.” I drained the water and handed back the empty glass.

  “Follow my finger.” She moved it back and forth in front of me. “That’s good. Are you dizzy?”

  “No.”

  “Can you tell me what day it is?”

  “It’s Friday. And I fell off a ladder. I was alone at the time and it was nobody’s fault but my own.”

  “You remember being knocked out?” When I nodded, the doctor added, “What about further back? What did you have for breakfast this morning?”

  “Toast and coffee. I remember everything. Honestly, I’m fine.”

  “Okay.” She made some notes on her clipboard, then checked her watch. “I’m sending you for a brain scan and keeping you here overnight. You should be fine after a little rest, but it’s best not to take chances.”

  “Oh. See, the thing is, I really need to leave now.” Throwing back the blankets, I eased slowly up to sitting. My head felt weird, like it was too big for my body, but there was no way I could afford an overnight stay.

  “Stay where you are.” Mom leapt from her chair. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  “Mom, I lost my insurance when—”

  “I can cover the bill.”

  I blinked at her. “You can?”

  “I have some money put aside for emergencies.”

  “Thanks Mom, but I don’t want you to spend your emergency fund on my hospital stay.”

  “That’s what it’s for.” She folded her arms and looked down her nose at me. “I was saving to buy a full-size medieval trebuchet so I can launch ostrich eggs at Edward, but this is more important.”

  “Your mother’s right,” said the doctor. “For the next twelve hours, this is where you need to be. The orderly will collect you for your scan shortly.” She gave me a nod as she left.

  “Thank you, Mom.” I lay back gratefully. “It’s really nice that you’d give up your trebuchet for me.”

  “I can get it on credit. Anyway, are you hungry? It’s eight o’clock. I can get you something.”

  I swallowed bile at the thought. “I’m not hungry, but you should go and eat something. You don’t need to stay with me overnight.”

  “Don’t be silly. Of course I’m staying.” She settled back into the visitor’s chair she’d pulled up beside the bed, and took hold of my hand. Hers was soft and warm. “Do you need anything?”

  I shook my head. In spite of telling her to go, I was grateful she wasn’t leaving me alone. “I don’t remember you ever holding my hand before, and this makes twice in the last few days.”

  She frowned. “Well, how often do I come home to find you on the floor?” Then her expression softened. “When I saw the blood under your head, I was afraid you were dead.” She squeezed my hand. “Edward’s worst pranks haven’t scared me like that.”

  “I’m sorry. But it wasn’t Mason’s fault I fell off his ladder.”

  “He booby trapped it.”

  “He
didn’t. If you told the hospital staff a man did this to me, you should make sure they know you were wrong. And please tell them the police don’t need to get involved.” I held her gaze until she let out a sigh.

  “All right. I don’t trust any member of the Lennox family, but I’ll take your word for it.”

  “I’m sorry Ed hurt you, Mom, but it was a long time ago. I wish you could let it go.”

  She blinked, and for a moment I glimpsed raw emotion in her eyes. A wound that had never healed. Then it was gone.

  “I’ll find us something to eat.” She pulled her hand from mine and stood up. “You think they serve Gin here?”

  After she’d disappeared through the curtains, I looked around for my phone. I spotted it on the nightstand, but because the bed was pulled so far forward, the nightstand was behind my head where I couldn’t easily reach it. And really, I still felt too exhausted to message Mason. Besides, he had no idea I was in the hospital, so why worry him?

  Closing my eyes again, I drifted back to sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Mason

  Willie Stroker looked just like the photo Todd had sent me, and the man Carlotta had described.

  When he opened his door, he was wearing a T-shirt with a picture of a duck and the words ‘Release The Quacken’ printed on it. There were orange crumbs clinging to his shirt, so he must have recently consumed some kind of processed cheese snack. He was almost as tall as me and not much younger, but he probably weighed only half as much.

  I was chewing on a toothpick, because I needed some kind of physical outlet for my rage and I figured chewing it to splinters might help me restrain myself from chewing on Willie’s face.

  Also, a lot of people took me for a big dumb thug, and being underestimated had always worked in my favor. The toothpick didn’t hurt that impression.

  “Are you Willie Stroker?” I asked around the toothpick, knowing full well that he was.

  He looked me up and down with an alarmed expression, his gaze lingering on the scars on my arm and neck. “Who wants to know?”