by Jen Talty
“Let me get you my card.” Kick reached in his back pocket, pulling out his wallet. “Cassandra and I will be staying at my ranch, so you can reach us both there.” He didn’t like lying but keeping her safe was his top priority. He could feel Cassandra giving him the evil eye. But he’d been given an assignment and whether he liked it or not, protecting Cassandra had just become his job.
An order he’d follow.
But he’d do it his way.
“I’ll write my cell on the back of his card,” Cassandra said.
Kick would need to call his ranch manager and make sure he knew exactly what to say if and when the police came knocking. Hopefully, they would call first, so Kick could set up the meeting in a safe place with his team close by.
“I appreciate it,” the detective said. “We’re done here for now, but please don’t leave the area without calling me. And if you think of anything at all that can give us some insight, even if it seems totally unrelated, let me know about it.”
“We sure will,” Kick said.
The detective met his partner and headed back toward the house. He didn’t once look over his shoulder.
Kick took that as a good sign.
“I’m out of here.” Bear held Cassandra by the shoulders. “I know you don’t like this.”
“This is worse than when my father hired you guys the last time,” she mumbled.
Kick was going to have to get someone to fill him in on the details of that story because it seems there was more than protecting Arny’s family during an investigation.
“It won’t be for long. We’re going to find whoever killed Monty,” Bear said.
“And my brother and Asia?” she asked.
Kick didn’t like how Bear lowered his gaze and shook his head slightly, and by the way Cassandra pursed her lips and took a step back, she didn’t like it either.
“The investigation is still open,” Cassandra said.
“Murder/suicide cases—”
Cassandra held up her hand. “I know. They can take a little longer for the medical examiner to sign off on, but it’s been past that time frame. Something doesn’t add up.”
“She’s right.” Kick pulled open the passenger side door. “The timing of Monty’s death is too coincidental.”
“Not denying that,” Bear said, his hand on the handle of his SUV. “It’s late and my wife would like her husband back before the sun rises. I’ll talk to the two of you tomorrow morning. I’ll send Trish down in the morning.” He waved. “And don’t worry. I’ll give you a heads up on when your father’s on his way.”
“Where’s my mom?” Cassandra took Kick’s hand.
He hoisted her up into the cab of his truck. Her face had paled, and dark circles had formed under her eyes, but other than that, he was staring into the eyes of one tough woman.
“She came with your dad.”
“Wonderful.” Cassandra grabbed the handle and slammed the door shut.
“Keep a close eye on her,” Bear said. “She’s the reason the world has rules, and breaking them comes naturally to her.”
“You make it sound like I’m a hardened criminal, instead of a parole officer whose job is to make sure people do follow the rules,” she said.
Kick laughed as he pulled out his phone, plugging in the address for the cabin on the lake. At least he’d have a nice view.
“Thanks for standing behind me,” Cassandra said.
“Something stinks. I just don’t know what it is.” He revved the engine before easing the truck onto the road. “We’re about thirty minutes from the cabin. Why don’t you tell me everything on the drive?”
“I’ve already done that.”
He glanced in her direction. She stared out the window, biting on her thumbnail. Reaching across the cab, he batted her hand away. “That’s a bad habit, and it’s not good for your nails.”
“You sound like my mother.”
He laughed. “My sister used to be a nail-biter. It took a lot to break her of it. But now we’re off on a tangent. Let’s circle back to telling me what I don’t know. And don’t start by saying that your brother’s father-in-law was Maxwell Bugsy, because everyone knows that.”
“And what do you know about Bugsy?” Cassandra huffed, folding her arms across her chest.
He could understand her anger. A lot of death surrounded her in a short period of time. “Only that he owns a smaller casino in Vegas and that some think he’s a shady fellow.”
“Want to know how he got the money to buy his own casino?” Cassandra kicked off her cowboy boots and rested her feet on his dashboard.
“Do you have to do that?”
She glanced in his direction. “Do what?”
He hated feet on his dashboard. But he bit his tongue in part because he liked how her jeans hugged her muscled legs. And he didn’t feel like arguing with her more than he had to. “Nothing. Tell me how Maxwell got the money.”
“He used his daughter. Taught a sixteen-year-old kid how to be a con artist. And a good one at that.”
“You’re talking about your brother’s wife Asia, right?”
“The one and only. She spent five years scamming for her dad and became a card shark. He had her playing in private games and tournaments. He taught her how to cheat. When she got caught, he claimed he had no idea what she’d done. All the money she’d won, she swore she gave to him, but he says she spent it all on drugs and flashy clothes and then washed his hands of her.”
“Any of that statement true?”
“She was hooked on drugs for a while. She went to prison for eighteen months, got clean, and stopped gambling. But I believe she started gambling again. It’s the only thing that would explain hers and my brother’s weird behavior since the playoffs started.”
“You think she could have killed your brother?”
“I suppose. But I also wonder if maybe her father was blackmailing them somehow.” She tossed her hands wide. “I don’t know. Nothing makes sense to me.”
Kick exited the highway, turning on the long, windy road down the north side of the lake. Still about ten minutes away. He choked back a laugh. When he’d first started dating Eliza Jane, all she talked about was spending a long weekend on the lake, so when she booked it with her girlfriends instead of him, that made him take a step back. Not that he cared that she wanted time with her friends. He encouraged that. But she kept using the term romantic weekend.
He later found out, she’d met her new fiancé on that girls’ weekend.
“That could also explain why they were fighting,” Kick said. “Especially if she was losing more than she was winning. That could put a serious rift in a relationship.”
“That’s true. But none of this explains my brother’s weird letter, the break-in at my house, or Monty’s death.”
“I can’t argue that point.” According to his phone, the cabin was on the right about six hundred feet away. He had a few friends who rented these small one-bedroom cabins for hunting or fishing trips. Neither of those things had been on his list of must-do. “We both need a little shut-eye. Let’s start fresh in the morning.”
“It is the morning.”
He laughed as he rolled the truck to a stop in front of a quaint cottage with a wraparound porch. It wasn’t very big, maybe six hundred feet, but it would do the trick. He just hoped it had a comfortable sofa because he was sure there weren’t two beds. “Again, you’re right.”
“Get used to saying that,” she said with a big smile.
He shook his head. “It’s pushing four in the morning. I’m setting an alarm for eight. I will probably be up before that.”
“All right. I’ll set my alarm too. But I’m not sure I can sleep. I really want to look at that computer.”
“If we do that right now, neither of us will get any sleep. Take a hot shower and I’ll see if there is any tea or something to help.” He pulled their luggage from the back of the truck and stared at the moon dancing over the lake. “Wow.”
>
“It is beautiful out here.” She stood next to him, her shoulder rubbing against his arm.
Being in close quarters with her was going to drive him crazy.
The décor in the cabin had a nice nautical feel to it. In front of the light-blue sleeper sofa was a coffee table with an anchor. All the wall hangings had to do with boating or fishing. A small, round dining room table sat between the family room and a galley kitchen.
“This is nice.” She rolled her suitcase to a stop in front of the bedroom door. “I can take the pull-out if you want?”
“No. You take the bedroom.” Kick tossed his cowboy hat on the rocking chair and fell onto the sofa. “I will be asleep in seconds.” Every muscle in his body screamed for rest. He knew a few hours wasn’t going to be enough, but it would have to do.
“I’m going to take a shower first,” she said.
A shower sounded wonderful, but he’d let her go first, even though he could feel the slime and dirt seeping into his skin like toxic waste. “That’s fine. Give me the computer. I’ll plug it in, so it can charge.” He wished he could say he trusted her not to go lock herself in the bathroom or bedroom and fiddle with the damn thing, so he thought it best if he kept a close eye on it and if sleep eluded him, and he found himself checking the machine out, well, what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.
She pulled it from the suitcase and set it on the coffee table. “I’m only agreeing to this sleep thing because I’m bone-tired. But I want to take a shower before I go to bed.”
“Go right ahead. I’ll see you at eight.” Kick plugged the computer and set it on the table before resting his forearm over his eyes and let out a long sigh.
“Good night,” she said. A few seconds after that, he heard a door click closed. Maybe a minute later, the water kicked in.
He relaxed into the sofa, letting the weight of the day leave his tension-filled body.
Dreamland couldn’t come soon enough.
Cassandra leaned against the bathroom sink and stared at herself in the mirror. Dark, puffy circles bulged below her bloodshot eyes. Tears formed, stinging her skin. She swiped at her cheeks before digging into her purse and pulling out the letter from her brother.
The damn thing made no sense.
She spread it open against the counter, careful not to get it wet.
Hey Cassandra,
I know, weird, me writing you a letter. But so much has been going on. This morning I was listening to the radio and a song by Montgomery Gentry came on. Know who it reminded me of? God, it’s been ages since I’ve actually talked to Monty. He’s a good man. I know things would never work between the two of you, but you should give him a ring sometime. He’s always in your corner and would do anything for you.
So, that part of the letter she deciphered right away. But the rest of it still left her a bit puzzled.
The problem is nothing is ever as it seems.
People always have a preconceived notion about what happened in any situation. You really have to read between the lines. Look for hidden meanings.
“Jesus, Karl. What the hell are you talking about?”
Remember when we were kids and we asked Dad to build us a tree fort, and he built us a playhouse? I still can’t believe it has running water. But, that’s when I knew we were rich beyond comprehension. And then there’s the pirate ship. That was my place to hide all my hidden treasure.
In high school, it was a great party place. I used to hide a bottle of booze in the galley of the pirate ship. Did you know it’s still exactly like when we were kids? Dad has been maintaining it in hopes of grandkids. He also has this notion that one or both of us are going to end up back in Montana.
Sometimes I think it would be fantastic for Asia and the baby to go back there. Get out of the rat race, but I’m super excited about going to the Stanley Cup. Everything I’ve ever worked for, dreamed of, is happening.
I’m so scared it’s all going to end with the snap of a finger. I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop and drop hard. Right on my head.
I feel something bad is coming my way. So bad, that I feel the need to tell you how much I love you. You’ve been the best sister anyone could have ever asked for. I know I’m often a dick to you, but come on, isn’t that what little brothers are for? Hey, do me a favor. Next time you go home to visit the folks, go check out what Dad did to the kitchen in the ship. It’s amazing. But don’t just look at the surface stuff. Dig deep. You know how Dad has always been into details. This is the quintessential of details.
No matter what happens, just remember, I’ve only been trying to do the right thing.
See you on the flip side.
Love, Karl.
Cassandra swiped at her cheeks before folding the letter and stuffing it back in her purse. Reading the letter now, especially after Monty’s death, she wondered if her brother knew what was coming, or perhaps, planning.
Which meant this letter was a suicide note.
Salty tears rolled down her cheeks, stinging her skin. Maybe if she’d been a better sister, less judgmental, and hadn’t thought the worst of Karl, he’d still be here. If only she hadn’t been so closed-minded to his wife, then things would be different.
The pipes rattled as she turned on the shower. Water sputtered from the faucet. Cassandra wanted the tears to stop. Crying wasn’t something she did often. She’d been raised to be strong both physically and emotionally. Not that shedding a few tears made anyone weak, but there was a time and place for everything.
She shed her clothing, letting the articles fall haphazardly to the floor. Without even testing the water, she stepped under the stream, letting the lukewarm liquid drizzle across her body. She swallowed, trying to push down the guttural sobs, but nothing could stop them now. Without washing her body, she slumped to the tile floor, wrapped her arms around her knees, and let the blubbering begin. She told herself she just needed a good cleansing. Once she got it out of her system, she’d be able to focus on deciphering the letter, finding Monty’s killer, and proving her brother wasn’t a murderer.
Chapter 4
Kick jerked awake. Blinking his eyes open, he raised his arm and checked his watch. He’d only been asleep for twenty minutes. Figures. He stretched and rolled to his side, taking a deep breath. He should be able to lull himself back to sleep, even if it wasn’t a deep sleep.
The sound of running water filled his ears.
Could she still be in the shower?
He bolted upright, knocking over a lamp as he raced to the bathroom, his heart pounding erratically. The temperature of the water would be frigid by now. Visons of her lying on the floor with blood pooling from her wrists filled his mind. Not that he thought she was suicidal, but there was no reason to stay in a shower that long.
He didn’t bother knocking. Instead, he barged into the small bathroom.
Cassandra sat in the corner of the shower with her arms around her legs and her head resting on her knees. The water blasted her body as her shoulders rose up and down. Her weeps cut through the sound of water splattering on tile.
After snagging the oversized towel hanging on the back of the door, he reached into the shower and turned the water off.
“Cassandra.” He kneeled, wrapping her shivering body in the towel.
She gasped, jerking her head. “What are you—”
“You’re going to end up catching pneumonia.” He lifted her into his arms, careful to make sure she was appropriately covered. He held her tight, his body heat seeping from his skin to hers. “We need to get you warm.”
“I’m f-f-fine.”
He let out a slight chuckle. “Your teeth are chattering.” Setting her down on the bed, he yanked back the covers. “Wrap up your hair. I’ll get you some warm, dry clothes along with some hot tea or cocoa.”
“Thhhank you.”
“I’ll be right back.”
Before he made his way to the kitchen, he snagged his sweats from his knapsack and tossed them on the bed. �
��Put those on, and then get back under the covers, okay?”
She nodded.
During his lifetime, he’d suffered his fair share of tragedy. The loss of his parents just weeks after he’d turned eighteen had been difficult, especially since they had been on their way home from dropping him off at boot camp when their private plane plummeted from the sky. No matter how many times his siblings had told him that it wasn’t his fault, he still carried a hefty load of guilt.
He found a tin of cocoa and luckily the kitchen came equipped with a microwave, so he didn’t have to leave for more than a few minutes. It hadn’t been that long ago that he’d climbed into a shower and let the water run cold until he had a chill in his bones. Purging emotions was necessary in order to move forward; something he’d done many times.
The microwaved dinged. He plopped in a couple of heaping spoonfuls of hot chocolate powder and stirred.
When he stepped into the bedroom, she’d managed to cover her wet hair with the towel and held the covers to her chin.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly, her gaze dropping to her lap. She fiddled with her fingernails. “I didn’t mean for you to see me like that.”
“Don’t think twice about it. Been there myself a time or two.”
“Right.” Her lashes fluttered over her almond eyes.
It pained him to see the whites all bloodshot. “I was at boot camp when my parents died, and it’s not the most conducive place to wail like an infant. So, once I was back home, I climbed into my shower and didn’t come out for an hour. My lips were purple. I had shriveled skin, and I swear you could see every vein in my body.” That wasn’t the last time he’d found solace in a cold shower to shed his raw emotions. “Sometimes you just have to get it out, especially when you’ve been holding in all those intense feelings for days, which I suspect you have been.”
Her fingers curled around the mug. She raised it to her lips and blew. Steam floated softly away from her angelic face as if things were in slow motion. “I didn’t plan on being in there very long.”