“Fuck.”
This was bad. Missing files, an opaque account worth half a million dollars that only Ron and his father knew the details on. No one went to so much trouble to conceal business activities unless there was something sketchy going on. His mind raced as he tried to think through the implications.
It was possible Ron had been embezzling money from his father, but his gut told him that wasn’t the case. Theo had said very clearly that Ron and Gideon had set up the executive account together.
So whatever was going on with that account, whatever was in those files, there was a very good chance his father was well aware of it. That he’d participated in it.
Garret sank into his chair. His father’s business had contracts with the state government, national businesses, big corporations. He’d already seen the tenders that had been prepared for future business pitches. He knew the kind of money that was at stake every time Tate Transport threw its hat in the ring.
It didn’t require too big a leap of imagination to suspect that his father and Ron had looked for ways to ensure the outcome of important tenders. Ways that were more impactful and persuasive than a nice dinner and a friendly golf game. Offering kickbacks to decision makers was a tried and true gambit of corrupt businesses the world over for a reason—it worked.
He just hadn’t expected to find it happening at his father’s company.
He stared at the tooled leather of the desktop. The first step was to confirm what he suspected. Ron might have taken the files, but he couldn’t destroy the money trail. Garret needed someone who could backtrack from the money so he could start defining the scope of Ron and his father’s malfeasance. Someone good and discreet.
He didn’t know anyone like that, but he knew someone who might.
He reached for his phone and made a call.
*
Sierra had the Bell prepped and ready to launch when Garret arrived at the airport just before six. He gave her a cool nod of acknowledgment before climbing into the passenger cabin, a far cry from the warm, engaging man she’d eaten with last night.
She took her cue from him, keeping conversation to a minimum before firing up the engine. Still, her gaze kept straying to the mirror once she’d reached altitude. There was something different about him today. She’d seen him tired and overworked, but tonight he was giving off a different vibe. Angry, almost. Intense.
And for the first time he didn’t bury himself in work the moment he sat down. Instead, he stared out the window, a deep furrow between his eyebrows.
She wondered what had happened. Another run-in with Ron? Or had some other issue cropped up?
So none of your business.
True. But she couldn’t help but feel for Garret. She’d only been fourteen when her parents died and Jed had quit college to come home and look after them all, but she could still remember him sitting up until late in the evening, poring over the accounts, trying to make sense of their father’s record keeping. Garret was doing that on a grand scale and then some.
They were halfway to Marietta, flying over the Missouri River, when she checked the mirror and got busted as he looked away from the window. She shot her gaze to the front immediately but could feel telltale heat climbing into her cheeks.
She told herself it was perfectly normal for a pilot to check on her passenger but that didn’t make her feel any less busted. Probably because she knew she was lying to herself. She was checking on Garret because she couldn’t seem to help herself where he was concerned.
After a minute or so, her headphones came to life.
“I keep meaning to ask you, how did you get into flying?” Garret asked.
Her gaze flew back to the mirror and he offered her a crooked smile.
“Humor me.” He said it lightly, but she sensed an undercurrent of seriousness beneath his words.
“It’s a long story. Get comfortable.”
“I’m holding an imaginary martini. Begin,” he said, waving a hand grandly.
“Your father offered free fun flights at the Marietta Fair one year. I got to sit up front with Jack while he flew.”
There was a short pause while he waited for her to say more. When she didn’t, she heard him laugh briefly.
“Glad I got comfortable for that.”
“Drink your martini,” she said.
“Really wish I could,” he said with a sigh.
She checked the mirror again and he was once more staring out the window, his expression bleak.
“What did you do in Seattle?” she asked. “I mean, for work.”
Anything to get the tight look off his face.
“Some college friends and I have a business start-up.”
“What sort of business?”
“Coffee. We started out as a boutique bean roaster, but a couple of years ago we branched out into importing espresso machines from Italy.”
“Gotta say, I love the smell of fresh coffee,” she said.
“It’s even better when it’s roasting.”
“So I guess that makes you a coffee expert? Did I offend you with my flask the other morning?”
“I appreciated the gesture,” he said with careful neutrality and Sierra burst into laughter.
“Very diplomatic.”
“I freely admit I’m a coffee snob,” Garret said.
“Oh, well, as long as you admit it.”
He laughed, and she felt absurdly pleased that she’d managed to shift his mood.
“Here’s a deal—I’ll get you some good coffee. Then you can tell me if you think it’s any better than your usual,” he said. “What sort of setup do you have at home?”
“I don’t know what brand the coffee maker is, if that’s what you’re asking. Mr. Coffee, maybe?”
She caught his wince in the mirror.
“That hurt you somewhere deep inside, didn’t it?” she asked.
“I’m guessing you drink the coffee no matter how long it’s been in the pot, too, huh?”
“Coffee is coffee,” she said, knowing it would get a rise out of him.
“Someone needs to take you in hand,” he said, shaking his head.
“Many men have tried and failed.” The words slipped out of her mouth before she could catch them.
His gaze found hers in the mirror, and she saw the flare of interest in his eyes. It took her longer than it should have to shift her gaze back to the horizon.
He didn’t say anything else and she didn’t dare check the mirror again. Instead, she waited a few minutes before announcing their descent.
Neither of them spoke again until after they’d landed and he was climbing out of the cabin.
“Usual time tomorrow?” she asked, her tone professionally polite.
“Thanks.” He hesitated, his gaze shifting over her shoulder toward the house. “Things are going to be a bit unpredictable for the next little while. So maybe come prepared for overnighters, just in case.”
“Not a problem.”
His focus came back to her. “Thanks for being so flexible.”
“Thanks for being kind about the coffee.”
His mouth quirked up into an almost smile. “See you tomorrow, Sierra.”
He headed for the house, suit jacket under his arm, briefcase swinging.
Sierra kicked herself for the entire half hour it took to put the Bell to bed for the night. Why had she felt the need to slip that little joke in at the end? Why hadn’t she just left things as they were, especially after that moment of mutual awareness last night at the house?
Thoroughly annoyed with herself, she slid behind the wheel of her old pickup and headed home.
Casey was finishing prep on macaroni and cheese when she arrived, his hair damp from the shower. Before Eva came into his life, he’d rarely showered before dinner. Now it was the first thing he did when he finished work for the day.
The civilizing effect of love.
“Starting to wonder if we were going to see you tonight,” he said as she
walked to the fridge to grab the water jug.
“I would have called if I had to stay overnight again,” she said.
Her brother started grating cheese, then flicked an assessing look her way. “Eva tells me I should apologize for giving you a hard time about working for the Tates.”
Sierra poured herself a glass of water before cocking an eyebrow at him. “Is that it? That’s your apology?”
Casey laughed. “You’re not buying it?”
“Dude, you’re not selling it. I’ll buy when you sell,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest and giving him her best “I’m waiting” look.
“All right. It’s a good opportunity for you. I know you want to fly full-time if you can. And Jack’s a good guy. Helping him out is the right thing to do. Sorry for being an asshole. I just . . . I hate that Gideon Tate got to walk away from the accident and nothing changed for him. I know it’s not exactly rational. I know it wasn’t Gideon’s fault. But we lost everything, and he lost nothing. And then he tried to throw more money at us like that was all we needed to make everything okay.”
“Sold,” she said, and Casey smiled.
Out of all her brothers, they were the closest, probably because there was only a year between them, and it was good to clear the air.
“You enjoying the job so far?” he asked.
“I love it,” she said.
He nodded. “Good. I’m glad.”
The kitchen door opened, and Eva and Jed walked in.
“She’s back,” Eva said, smiling with delight.
“It was only one night,” Sierra pointed out.
“We missed you,” Eva said, giving her a quick hug.
Jed grabbed a glass and poured himself water from the jug Sierra had left on the counter. “Speak for yourself. I got to watch football without anyone bitching about me hogging the remote. It was glorious.”
“It’s incredibly sad that that’s all it takes to make you happy,” Sierra pointed out.
“I’m a simple man,” Jed said.
“So many places to go with that one,” Casey said. “I’m going to need a minute.”
Sierra smiled into her glass of water. It was nice to be home, nice to slip back into the rhythm of her family.
She wondered what Garret was doing right now. Nothing like this, she guessed. He’d probably come home to an empty house, and dinner was most likely going to be something frozen before he drove himself to the hospital to support his parents.
She stilled when she realized her thoughts had gravitated to him yet again.
No, it was worse than that—she wasn’t just thinking about him. She was concerned for him. He’d confided in her in a moment of weakness last night, and that was all it had taken for her to overinvest. That and a couple of moments of lingering eye contact.
“Give me a yell when dinner is ready,” she said, pushing to her feet.
She headed for her room, dumping her bag on the bed. She had laundry to do before she repacked. And maybe she needed a bigger overnight bag, since Garret had indicated the likelihood of there being more stays at the lake house in the near future.
“Knock, knock.”
Sierra glanced over her shoulder to see Eva in the doorway, hands tucked into the front pockets of her paint-splattered skinny jeans. The colorful tattoo on her forearm stood out vividly against the white of her T-shirt, and her short blond hair stuck up in places as though she’d been running her hands through it.
“Hey. What’s up?” Sierra asked.
“I was about to ask you that,” Eva said. “Everything cool with the job?”
“Of course. It’s amazing. Someone’s paying me to fly for a living. What’s not to love?” Sierra said lightly.
Eva pursed her lips, eyes slightly narrowed. “Hmm. That was pretty convincing, but just a little off. Want to try again?”
Sierra stared at her friend. Then she sat on the end of her bed and let out a sigh.
“The job is great. Really. I’m just feeling a little . . . distracted. Which is super unprofessional. And really self-sabotaging.”
Eva sat beside her. “If you’re worried about Casey being a dick the other night, he’s already admitted as much.”
“I’m not worried about Casey. He apologized to me before dinner. This is a me problem. Me and my hormones. Or maybe I should say my libido.”
Eva frowned, trying to work out what she was saying. Then realization dawned and her eyes widened. “Oh. Garret Tate is the distraction.”
Sierra pictured Garret the way he’d been last night, laughing and warm and—might as well admit it—sexy as hell in his parents’ over-the-top kitchen.
“Yes. Yes he is.”
“You want to jump him,” Eva said.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Sierra said, frowning.
“So you don’t want to have sex with him?” Eva asked. “I’m confused.”
“I am definitely . . . interested,” Sierra admitted grudgingly. “But I don’t want to jump him. What I want is to be able to look at him and feel nothing except a sense of responsibility for getting him from A to B in one piece.”
“Ah. You’re conflicted. I do love me some good conflicted yearning,” Eva said. “Tell me more.”
Sierra gave her a look. “This isn’t a joke. Garret is my boss. I’m filling in for Jack, who is the consummate professional. I mean, he never puts a foot wrong, and he’s relying on me. And all I can think about is making Garret laugh and how good he smells and how hot he is.”
“Okay. Let’s start with that. How hot is he?” Eva asked.
“Too hot.”
“Hotter than Casey?”
Sierra gave her the side-eye. “I’m not using my brother as a benchmark for another man’s hotness.”
“Sorry, you’re right. That was creepy. We need another metric.” She narrowed her eyes in thought for a beat. “What about movie stars? Is he Chris Evans hot?”
“Definitely.”
Eva raised her eyebrows. “Okay. Is he Chris Hemsworth hot?”
“Easily.”
“He’s easily hotter than Chris Hemsworth?” Eva asked incredulously. “Are you sure you’re not wearing your horny goggles?”
Sierra gave a reluctant laugh. “I don’t know. Maybe. But that’s part of the problem, right? I can’t stop thinking about him. He’s got some stuff going down at his father’s business right now, and I keep thinking about how he’s had to give up his life in Seattle to step in and save the day . . .”
“So he’s hot, and you’re worried about his happiness?”
“That makes it sound even worse,” Sierra said.
“It makes it sound like you like him,” Eva corrected. “Not exactly a crime.”
“It is when he’s my boss.” Sierra scrubbed her face with her hands and made a frustrated sound in the back of her throat. “I wish I could just erase the part of my brain that notices things like how nice his eyes are. It’s driving me crazy and it’s only been three days.”
“Here’s what I think,” Eva said. “You need to stop beating yourself up for noticing this Garret guy is a hottie. You have eyes, and you like men. It’s just a fact of life that sometimes you’re gonna run across people you find really attractive. That doesn’t mean you have to go shopping for a hair shirt. This is not George Orwell’s 1984. You don’t have to punish yourself for thought crimes. You simply acknowledge that he floats your boat, and you move on because the job is more important than a roll between the sheets.”
Sierra nodded. This was good advice. Eva was right. She was overreacting, giving herself a hard time just because she and Garret had noticed each other.
“Orrrrrr . . . You jump this guy and have a great time while you can, because it’s not very often that you meet someone who really does it for you,” Eva said, her smile wide and mischievous.
Sierra reached behind her for a pillow and bopped her friend on the back of the head with it.
“Not helping.”
“I’m sorry.
” Eva laughed and scooted off the bed and out of range. “I’ve never been very good at coloring inside the lines. You think I planned on falling for your brother when I came to town to try to win the grain elevator contract? You think CJ thought it would be a great idea to fall for Jesse at her very first professional rodeo?”
Sierra stared at her, challenged. “This isn’t like that.”
“Okay. If you say so.” Eva patted her on the shoulder. “I’ll just point out that when you talked about how hot Garret is, you also talked about how you felt bad for his current situation. You’re already invested, sweetheart. Maybe that’s just because you’ve got a huge heart. Or maybe it’s because you’ve met someone you really connect with.”
Eva gave her shoulder a final pat before exiting, leaving Sierra to mull over her words for the rest of the night.
Chapter Seven
Garret arrived at the hospital fully intending to brief his mother on what was happening at Tate Transport, but when he entered his father’s room he found her reading the newspaper to his father and it hit him how tired and old she suddenly looked. Her hair was showing gray at the roots, and she hadn’t bothered with makeup. She was wearing a pair of track pants and a T-shirt outside of the house, something he would have thought was a sure sign of the apocalypse in pre-stroke times.
Every ounce of energy she had, every atom in her body, was focused on his father’s recovery, and it hit Garret that telling her what was going on wouldn’t change anything or improve the situation. It would only give his mother one more thing to worry about.
And what did he have to tell her at the moment, anyway? That there were some accounting anomalies that needed looking into, and that Ron had taken some documents and files when he left. Until he knew more, it was pointless to add another burden to his mother’s already heavy load.
His mother broke off from her reading, her mouth curving into a tired smile. “Hello. You didn’t have to come in again. We know you’re pulling long hours at work.”
“I wanted to see you guys,” Garret said.
His father was watching him with bright eyes, and he held out his hand for Garret to come closer to the bed. Grief and anger twisted together in Garret’s belly as he moved forward to take his father’s hand.
More Than a Cowboy (The Carmody Brothers Book 3) Page 8