The Hero I Need: A Small Town Romance

by Snow, Nicole

  “Yeah, I know. But it ain’t clear in the records. That computer turned up some real nasty-looking offshore accounts, all based in the Virgin Islands,” Faulk says with his Oklahoma twang, scratching his cheek. “Plus a few other places, and as much as I hate to say it...they’re all in your name, Willow. Yours and Peter Macklin’s, who I reckon must be your dad.”

  “Dad? Holy shit! No, no, I don’t have any offshore accounts. And neither does he. Definitely not the illegal kind in the Virgin flipping Islands.” It whips out of her so fast she shakes. “I have one bank account back in California. I’ve had it since I was sixteen. That’s the only account I’ve ever had.”

  “Dammit, Faulk,” I shout, my fists darting up. “You can’t possibly believe this horseshit and neither should the FBI.”

  “I don’t, but that ain’t how the system works, Grady. We’re gonna have to prove Willow and her daddy are clean before the FBI formally takes over this case and opens a can of worms.”

  “How?” Willow asks. “How can I prove something I don’t know anything about?”

  “To start, we’ve gotta show it’s a case of stolen identity,” Faulk says with a shrug. Like it’s that damn simple. “Pretty easy for them to do, setting you up, considering they had everything they’d need from your employment records. The rest, they must’ve pulled down from black-market sources.”

  Willow stands, hands pressed to her forehead like she’s about to fall over.

  “God. How could I have been so stupid? I knew something wasn’t right about that place from day one. All the crap they put my name on, the records they wanted for background checks...but I was too scared of losing my job to say anything. Not until I figured out Bruce and the animals were in real danger.”

  I stand, pulling her close, squeezing her so tight you’d need the jaws of life to pry us apart.

  “You did do something, darlin’. You got the fuck out of there while the going was good,” I tell her.

  “And I stole a tiger, a compromised laptop, and a truck. I’m going to rot behind bars,” she whispers, her voice so scared. So faint.

  “Like hell,” I snap, still glaring at Faulk. “Is she?”

  “No,” Faulk agrees slowly. “She’s not. But we have some serious grunt work to do ASAP. The Fosses’ sanctuary is a non-profit, and there’s a lot of crap that looks murky. Their tax records, for one, but that would be an IRS thing...the FBI wouldn’t have the sole discretion to dig that deep into financials. However, if they did steal your identity—”

  “They did steal it,” I snarl. “Not if.”

  Faulk nods, his head hanging low for a few seconds before it snaps back up.

  “I’m sorry as hell to be the messenger, man. Believe me. What I’m saying, though, is that along with Willow’s identity, it looks like they’ve pulled this shit before with other employees. Two to be exact. Both of those people conveniently had accidents, so they’re no longer around to do any talking.”

  “They killed them?” Willow asks slowly.

  “Shit,” I grind out.

  “They died in car accidents. There’s no proof, but of course the mind goes right to...y’know.” Faulk shrugs. “The accounts that were set up had Exotic Plains as the benefactor of their earnings. They also got hefty payments from other accounts obviously being used as mules and shell accounts.”

  “The hell does that mean?” I ask with a snort.

  “Means they’re set up only to act as money filters. Real common trick of the trade in the black market dealings. The money runs through so many accounts that are opened and closed as soon as the transfers are done, the trail goes dark. In this case, the refuge ends up with a large donation—only, in reality, it ain’t a donation at all. It’s blood money from illegal animals. That wart on Minot ain’t Priscilla and Niles’ first rodeo with big cats, either, but it’s the first place they’ve owned outright. The scum have learned to be slick. Their tracks are fully covered, leaving ’em squeaky clean.”

  “Oh my God. What are we going to do?” Willow asks breathlessly. “How do we stop this?”

  I look at Faulk, folding my arms, fighting back the chill creeping up my back.

  “Tell us where to start.”

  Faulk’s expression is grim. “Start with Bruce. We have to get that poor cat out of here, off to a new permanent home, or he’ll end up in FBI seizure for sure. Anything could happen to him then.” He looks at me, a familiar anger hot in his emerald eyes. “Along with your property, Grady. And your business for being an accomplice.”

  Arrow, meet my chest.

  Suddenly my lungs won’t work, hateful shrapnel lodged in my throat.

  It hurts to even breathe, but I have to. I need to say—

  “No!” Willow jumps in. “No way, dude. He’s not involved.”

  “Yes, he is,” Faulk says, his voice torn. “Without hard facts, he’s been harboring you and the tiger too long to be innocent collateral damage. In the eyes of the Bureau, he’s one more suspect.”

  “Shit,” I huff out, releasing Willow and taking a brisk step away.

  My fists want to start knocking holes in the wall.

  But I’ve never let fear do the talking, and now’s not a time to start.

  Still, fuck.

  I can’t lose everything.

  Not the Purple Bobcat.

  Not my place.

  Not Sawyer. Not Avery. Not my life.

  I suck in a long, jagged breath, filling my lungs till they burn. There isn’t enough oxygen in the whole room to keep me sane.

  What the hell will I do?

  I care about Willow deeply, and so do my girls, but I can’t risk losing everything I’ve worked my balls off for. I can’t lose my future. The girls need security.

  They need a dad who isn’t under the FBI gun, much less a father in jail.

  This, her staying here, was only supposed to last a few days.

  Nothing more than a guest in need.

  Especially not a lover.

  This painful secret crunch behind my ribs reverberates through me like falling through a frozen lake.

  I know how this ends. I’ve always fucking known.

  Losing Brittany taught me what happens when I dare to love, and I swore I’d never put myself through that agony again. Or my girls.

  Christ.

  Love?

  Where’s this even coming from?

  I’m not in love with Willow...am I?

  Brittany hasn’t been gone long enough for me to love again.

  The girls aren’t grown, and even if they were, there’s a chasm in my chest screaming stupid, stupid, stupid. Did you really think you could fill me, Grady?

  I’m barely able to stand as Faulkner clears his throat.

  “Listen, guys, I’ve put together a list of good refuges, legit ones,” he says. “They’ve been vetted and if I’m not mistaken, that place Willow was looking at down in Sheridan, Wyoming, is on there. I suggest you give them a buzz and find out about taking that tiger on a trip real soon. I can’t keep the Feds off our heels forever. It’s going right up the chain to a full investigation. A whole lot sooner than y’all think.”

  15

  Let Him Go (Willow)

  The next week blurs by with paradise shattered.

  Pretending to be a broker for a zoo, I’ve contacted every sanctuary on Faulk’s list, looking for a home for Bruce. It came down to two in the end: one in Florida and the other place in Wyoming.

  With limited transportation and keeping him concealed, it’ll have to be Let’s Roar in Wyoming, but they can’t take him in immediately.

  The owner, Jacob Cook, said he’d let me know as soon as they can.

  Of course, they also need a significant donation to accept him.

  Not unusual at all.

  Like it or not, big hearts aren’t enough to support an adult male tiger. It costs over fifteen thousand dollars a year just to keep Bruce fed, and that’s after a secure pen, vet check-ups, and proper enclosure space.

>   I have the money. The trouble is, it’ll certainly be tracked.

  Grady says he’ll make the donation in my name, but again, Faulk pointed out that would raise red flags, too.

  Once the FBI comes charging in, none of that will look good on our part.

  Grady’s other friend, Ridge—the billionaire former Hollywood heartthrob—came up with the donation in cash, claiming it can’t be tracked.

  And though I can pay him back when this is over, I’m reluctant to let anyone else wade into this, especially someone like a celebrity.

  Ugh. I’m starting to realize how a fly feels in a spiderweb.

  But this web is my life.

  I’m trapped in another way, too.

  I keep telling myself to stay away from Grady—just like I know he’s trying to hold back, too. But as soon as the sun sets, we morph into two different people.

  People who can’t keep their hands and tongues to themselves. We end up downstairs every night, splayed out on the futon or sometimes just the floor, plunged into the hottest loving of our lives.

  The quiet moments after we’re exhausted and tangled up in each other leave me wrecked.

  That’s when Grady assures me we’re going to work this out.

  Everything.

  But I know he’s only saying it to make me feel better.

  There isn’t a crystal ball or a magical happy ending waiting around the bend.

  We’re adults and we know it.

  If anything, this probably won’t work out perfectly.

  You know the odds are slim when a former FBI man drops the truth bomb and it guts him. I can tell every interaction with Faulk hurts him brutally, like he knows we’re doing our damnedest in a losing pitched battle.

  Bruce lets out a low growl, snapping my attention back to the task at hand.

  “Sorry, Mr. Snarlypants.” I kink the garden hose and lift it out of the water trough that’s currently overflowing.

  Huffing out a breath, I carry the hose to the wall, turn off the spigot, and hang it up.

  While pacing around the center of his pen, Bruce keeps his eyes on me. Grady made a few safety modifications after the tiger’s jailbreak besides just fixing doors. The large pen where he roams is now enclosed from floor to ceiling with chain-link mesh.

  He’s restless, and I know why.

  Besides picking up on my anxiety, he needs a bigger place to roam. To be outside in a pen where he can climb and play with balls and boxes, and doze in peace with his long whiskers twitching in the sunlight.

  In my ham-fisted efforts to help, I’m ruining his dreams.

  Mine, too.

  Each day puts me a little deeper into the quicksand. Not just the investigation hovering over my head—but becoming too emotionally attached to Grady and his girls.

  I have to take Bruce to Let’s Roar and end this.

  The director, Jacob Cook, assured me three times that Bruce will have all the space he needs, inside and out. Plus, all the other care it takes to properly house big cats.

  Oddly, that’s the easy part. After they’ve gotten their donation, they’ll gladly welcome Bruce with open arms.

  I’m the idiot making this more difficult than it needs to be.

  I don’t want to leave.

  I like Grady and the girls and this small-town summer I wish would never end.

  I’ve never had family like this, a community, like I do here.

  Which is stupid, because the harsh truth is I don’t have it here.

  Sure, I’ve gotten to know Drake’s wife, Bella, and Faulk’s wife, Tory, but they aren’t my friends. They’re Grady’s people, however fun and welcoming.

  Everything I have here is thanks to him, and it makes me feel like I’m taking advantage of him.

  Continuously.

  I’m also living an illusion.

  If a magic wand erased my tiger woes, Dallas doesn’t fit my life plan. A town without so much as a pet rescue is no place for a zoologist.

  Sigh.

  My phone vibrates then, and I question ignoring it, because Priscilla and Niles still fish regularly for a connection.

  But it might be Cook and Let’s Roar wanting to finalize arrangements, so I pull the phone out of my pocket.

  My heart drops to my toes when I see Dad on the screen.

  Holy crap.

  He’s still in Africa—somewhere in the Congo with near nonexistent cell service.

  Hoping nothing serious has happened, I click the answer icon.

  “Hey, Dad.”

  “Willow!” he yells, his voice shrill like I’ve never heard before. “Thank God! I have a whole voicemail box full of messages saying you’ve disappeared.”

  “Disappeared? From who?” Already knowing the answer, I walk over and lean against the storage room door.

  “Exotic Plains, the Fosses. What’s going on?” he rushes out. “I’m still in the Congo, but one of my students needed to call home and found me, said it was an emergency. Apparently, they left a message on his phone. I had to travel a hundred miles, cross-country, to get back international service...only to find a dozen messages about you vanishing. Where are you? Are you safe?”

  “I...uh—” I’ve never lied to my father, and I can’t start now. He’ll see through it completely. “I’m still in North Dakota, but I kinda quit Exotic Plains.”

  “Quit? What happened?”

  “It just...it wasn’t a good fit, Dad. I wasn’t comfortable with some of the things I saw there.” I bite my tongue, unsure how to tell him I’ve become one of those uncomfortable things.

  Oh, yeah, and they’re also trying to frame us both for money laundering in the illegal animal trade.

  NBD.

  He’s silent for a moment, then I hear his familiar chuckle. “I don’t want to say I told you so, but...”

  My heart sinks.

  “I know. You told me sanctuaries are nothing like working with cats in the wild. You said I wouldn’t be happy working at one because I wouldn’t have enough say...”

  And you were so effing right, Dad, I don’t add.

  “Wow, was that me? Smart man.” He laughs again. “Listen, lovely lady, I didn’t call to gloat. Let me help you, once I’m back on the grid I’ll do some checking around and—”

  “Dad, no! I’m just...I’m not ready for that quite yet.”

  “Okay, then. How about I arrange a flight for you to join me? I’m in the Congo for another month, and then it’s on to India. We’ll be regrouping in Tezpur before heading out to Kaziranga for fieldwork. I could use your help. It’ll be just like old times.”

  I can hear the excitement in his voice, and it hurts.

  Oh, he’d love to have me with him again, but I can’t say yes.

  Not when I have to protect him from here, hoping I can sort out this mess while he’s still off the grid.

  “Question. Did you ever talk to anyone at Exotic Plains?” I ask.

  “Not after hearing their first few messages. I called you.” His tone changes as he asks, “Funny, you know. They didn’t make it sound like you quit. That’s what had me worried. Are you sure you’re okay, Willow?”

  “Yeah, well...I sorta didn’t quit.” I pause. “I just left without telling anyone.”

  “You—what? You didn’t have a vehicle last I checked. Where are you now? Where are you staying?” His tone turns urgent, worried, afraid for me.

  “I’m fine, just staying with a friend,” I say, answering the only question I can.

  “Willow.” He lets out a loud sigh. “This is sounding more like that time you got your poor heart broken by that stupid boy in your grad program. You wouldn’t stop working and you lost thirty pounds after he cheated. Don’t tell me you fell for some new devil at Exotic Plains?”

  God, if only it were that simple.

  My heart sinks at the worry in his voice. Even when he’s halfway around the world, I can’t hide anything. It’s always been this way.

  “How concerned do I need to be right now?�
�� he asks slowly. “What sort of trouble are you in? Do I need to transfer more money to your account?”

  “No! God, no, don’t do that. Don’t transfer any money, Dad!”

  And here comes the freak-out. Too late for me to slap my hand across my lips.

  “Willow, baby, what the hell is going on?”

  I sink down to the floor in a heap, wishing I could tell him everything.

  “Look, Dad, I’m fine, but...I just can’t tell you anything else right now, okay? For so many reasons, but please—whatever you do—please don’t contact Exotic Plains again. I’ll tell you everything as soon as I can. I promise.”

  He’s silent, digesting the news, and I squeeze my eyes shut, afraid of what’s next.

  “Okay,” he grinds out slowly. “I’m going to trust you on this, Willow. Not only because I don’t have another option when I’m in the bush, but because I know you. I know you’re doing your best to take care of it. I must say...I feel responsible for not checking out Exotic Plains before letting you accept that job. Damn, I wish I’d flown home then, and—”

  “No, no, you shouldn’t have. It wouldn’t have changed anything. Please don’t worry about me. I have friends, good friends, helping me with this. It’s all going to be fine.”

  “Friends from the rescue?”

  I hesitate. “No. Not quite but...they’re amazing people.”

  There’s another long pause before he clears his throat.

  “Well. Don’t keep me in the dark too long. You know how to get ahold of me. It might take a day or two, but I’ll get back to you as soon as possible. And you know I’ll come to the States before India anytime. Just say the word.”

  “You don’t have to do that, either,” I say, sniffing back tears. “I’ll definitely be in touch. You’ll hear everything soon. Take care of yourself.” Even though he’s been an incredible dad my entire life, I’m extremely thankful he’s so understanding right now. “I love you, Dad.”

  “Love you, too, peewee. You’re my world.”

  I smile because he’s always told me that.

  “Bye, Dad.”

  “Bye, sweetie. Talk soon.”

  I click off and dip my head back, wondering all over again what the hell I’m really going to do. And if there’ll be some forgiveness when I can, you know, actually not fucking lie to my awesome father.