Текст книги "Truth or Beard"

Автор книги: Penny Reid

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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 25 страниц)

“Don’t change the subject.” Duane made an unexpected right on to a dirt and gravel road, just a half mile from his house. It appeared to be one of the unmaintained roads used by park rangers and hunters.

“Where are we going?”

“I want to show you something, it’s why I borrowed the truck. Don’t worry, this won’t take long. I know you have to get up for work early in the morning.”

“Can you give me a hint?” We were swallowed up by trees and pitch black night on all sides.

“Sure. In fact I’ll just tell you. It’s a hunting cabin. Billy and I built it four summers ago. No one else knows about it.”

“Not even Beau?”

Duane shook his head. “No. Not even Beau. Billy…well, Billy suggested I keep it a secret.”

“Why?”

“Probably because both Billy and I aren’t as social as Beau or Jethro, or even Roscoe. We both used to have a habit of losing our tempers when kept in close quarters. At home. Cletus goes on long trips—boar hunting and whatnot—but Billy and I aren’t in that habit. He suggested we use it as a place to lay low, cool off.”

“Why don’t you stay there all the time?”

“It doesn’t have electricity, and it’s small. It’s got an outhouse and an outside well, but not plumbing.”

I studied as much of Duane’s profile as I could given the lack of light. “But you’re showing me now…?”

He nodded once. “That’s right.”

“Is this national park land? Or are we still on your family’s property?”

“My family’s property.”

“Basically, you and Billy share it?”

“More or less. He doesn’t use it much, since he works all the time. Our house, the big house, is really just a place for him to store his stuff and sleep.”

“So this cabin, it’s like your fortress of solitude.”

He shrugged, his eyes flickering to mine. “I like to think of it that way.”

A slow burning thrill gradually warmed my belly as my overactive imagination ran away, stripped naked doing wild cartwheels, and made salacious plans. This place meant privacy. Time we could spend together, just the two of us, sharing hopes and dreams. Maybe this place would be where I admitted how much I felt for him, how I loved him. Maybe we’d use it to make plans for our future beyond the next thirteen months.

He pulled the truck off the gravel road and took a path I would never have noticed. After another few minutes the truck’s headlights illuminated a roughhewn, stone staircase leading to a dark wooden cabin.

I didn’t wait for Duane to open my door. Instead, I jumped out of the truck as soon as he stopped, but before he’d engaged the emergency brake. He left the headlights on, and they were the only source of light.

Duane called after me, “Slow down, Jess. Those steps aren’t as solid as they look.”

I forced myself to pick my way more carefully, which allowed Duane to catch up and place a protective hand at my back. When we reached the door, I tried it and found it locked.

“I have keys,” he said gruffly, unlocking the door, and stopping me from bolting forward by gripping my upper arm. He waited until I was looking up at him before pressing the keys into my palm. “Here, these are for you.”

“For me?” I grinned. I couldn’t help it.

He laughed lightly and shook his head, walking past me into the cabin and disappearing into inky darkness. I hesitated at the door, listened to the sound of his boots scuffing on the floor, then the strike of a match. Pale illumination filled the small space as he lit a candle. I stepped in and closed the door behind me as Duane walked around the rectangular space, lighting wax candles as he went.

It was small. Really small. Maybe two hundred square feet. The walls were finished—which was surprising—but were painted plain white and held no photos or paintings. A stone wood-burning fireplace took up most of one wall, a small table with two chairs took up another, and a queen-sized bed ran along the third.

“Are you cold?”

“No,” I said on a sigh, imaging us spending countless days and nights here, enjoying each other’s company, sharing more of ourselves.

Finally, I lifted my eyes and met Duane’s schooled expression.

He was studying me, my reaction to this place. Despite the careful coolness of his features, I could read his thoughts as clearly as though he’d spoken. He wanted to know if this place would do. If I would consent to him taking liberties with my body in this cozy cabin.

He was so silly.

So I said, “Duane, you are so silly.”

“I’m silly?” He lifted an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his broad chest.

“Yes. See now, this place is great. But I’d just like to point out that if you’ve been waiting for a room and a bed for us to start doing mattress cartwheels, then I think you’re being silly. Do you think I need candles and romance?” I waved a hand around the cabin. The place was small, but it was undeniably romantic. Add a fire in the fireplace, a bottle of wine, and naked cartwheels on the bed—it was basically a rustic den of seduction.

Regardless, I continued my tirade. “Baby, I do not need those things. You need to realize, I don’t want to be put on a pedestal. I don’t want you to keep a respectful distance. I just need you. I like you wild and I love you reckless. Outside on a picnic blanket, inside the cab of your Road Runner, on the bed in this here cabin—where we come together makes no difference to me. It’s you I want.”

Each word was true. I didn’t want or need romantic gestures or pretty things. I just wanted him. I was in love with him and nothing else mattered to me, not the where and not the when.

As I spoke I saw the corner of his mouth lift of its own accord, his gaze grow warmer. When I finished, he studied me for a long moment, his scorching stare skating up and down my body in a protracted perusal.

Good Lord, I was getting hot. Fleetingly I hoped he would take my words to heart and just take me now, fast and hard against the wall. The thought made my knees weak.

But then he crossed to where I stood with slow measured steps. And he didn’t stop coming until he’d backed me up against the door. He placed one hand on the frame behind me and the other possessively on my hip.

His eyes glittered and smoldered. He gazed specifically at my mouth, as he said in a rumbly whisper, “Jessica, I’ve been thinking about making love to you for a real long time. And I won’t settle for our first encounter being rushed—on a blanket outside, in a car, before dinner in my bedroom at home. I plan on taking my time with you...”

He leaned forward and to the side, the friction of his beard against my jaw, and hot breath dancing beneath my ear making me shiver again. His fingers on my hip slipped under my shirt, his thumb rubbing a slow circle on the skin just above the waistline of my jeans.

“Duane,” I whimpered, my hands grabbing fistfuls of his sweater. “We don’t need to wait.”

“But we do, Jess. Because I plan on taking your time as well.” He licked my earlobe, nibbled it, and I trembled. “A whole night, and a whole day…”

“Please.” My grip tightened and I yanked him toward me, needing his weight and warmth.

But instead he leaned away. This time his eyes connected with mine and they were fiercely sober, and stern as he said, “You’re already on that pedestal, Princess. And I respect the hell out of you, whether you like it or not.”

***

Like Saturday and Sunday, when Duane dropped me off, he walked me to my door and gave me a very respectful kiss. But this time he left me with a big grin. I wanted to call after him and say I’m in love with you, Duane Winston! Instead I let him go. Though I felt warm and tingly, certain of having good dreams. The anticipation of admitting my feelings was going to kill me dead…in the best possible way.

I floated into my parents’ house, not quite finished with my happy sigh, when I heard my daddy call to me from the family room.

“Jessica, is that you?”

“Yes, it’s me.”

“Can you come in here?”

I hung up my purse, kicked off my boots, and strolled—still ensconced in my happiness daze—into the family room. My daddy was standing in the center of the room when I entered, his hands in his pockets, and his expression grim.

I felt my smile fall. “What’s wrong?”

He sighed, looking resigned, and said, “There’s no easy way to break the news, so I’ll just tell you outright. Your momma called this evening. Aunt Louisa died this afternoon around five. She took a turn yesterday and didn’t wake up.”

My good mood deflated like a violently popped balloon; I covered my mouth with my hand. “Oh no…oh goodness. But she was just…I thought she was getting better?”

He shook his head.

My eyes lost focus as I thought about Aunt Louisa, my mother’s younger sister, still so young at forty-two. Even though she’d always kept me at an arm’s length, even though we’d never formed a real bond during our summers together, I still loved her. She was family.

“I can’t believe she’s gone,” I whispered, without knowing I was speaking my thoughts.

My father crossed the room, pulled me into a hug, then led me to the couch. Once there he tucked me under his arm and let me cry a bit through my confusion. When I was mostly finished, he handed me a box of tissues and patted my hand.

“I’ve already purchased our plane tickets and called Kip Sylvester at the school to explain things. We’ll leave tomorrow morning. Your momma will need your help.”

I nodded numbly. “Yeah. Thank you. That makes sense.”

My daddy stirred a bit in his seat, then leaned away. I sensed his eyes on me so I lifted my gaze.

After a long moment he said, “This might be unseemly to discuss before your aunt is laid to rest, but I think I need to warn you about something before we get to Texas.”

“Warn me? About what?”

I watched as my daddy gathered a deep breath, then released it slowly. His words were halting as he said, “The thing is, Jessica…your aunt Louisa… she was your…well, she was very wealthy. And you spent a lot of time with her, more than anyone else. I think you need to prepare yourself for a significant inheritance.”

“Uh…what?”

If possible, my father looked even more mournful as he explained, “Your momma has seen the will. Baby girl, I don’t know how else to break this to you, but Louisa left you everything. She left you the house, her engineering patents, the farm, and all her money. We’re talking several million dollars.”

CHAPTER 18

“I love to sail forbidden seas, and land on barbarous coasts.”

– Herman Melville

 

~Duane~

We were cutting it close.

After dropping Jess off, I drove back to the house and jumped into Beau’s car. He’d been waiting for me, sitting in the dark, inside his red 1967 Pontiac GTO, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t need to. I knew we were running late. If we were lucky we’d arrive at the meeting spot just on time.

Jessica James was distracting. She’d been occupying my thoughts with more and more frequency. And now I was making new plans. These plans only served to increase my level of distraction. Showing Jess the cabin hadn’t been premeditated. But when I realized I would need to borrow Billy’s truck in order to take her home, I’d exploited the opportunity.

“Smart move, taking Billy’s truck.” My twin checked his rearview mirror as we pulled onto Moth Run, the paved road adjacent to our property. “The Order knows not to come within ten feet of Billy, no way in hell they’d follow his truck.”

I nodded, because it had been a smart move. But I didn’t share that avoiding the Order hadn’t been my only reason for taking the truck. But avoiding the Order was the reason I hadn’t given the Mustang back to Jessica yet.

Both Beau and I were quickly proven right about taking Billy’s truck when four motorcycles separated from the darkness and easily caught up with Beau’s Pontiac.

“These guys are so stupid.” Beau’s face was twisted with irritation and impatience, an unusual expression for him. “What do they think we’re going to do? Try to leave town undetected in my red GTO? Everyone knows this is my car. What a bunch of morons.”

Before I could add a layer of colorful trash-talk, my cell rang.

“Who is it?” Beau’s eyes flickered between me and the road.

“I don’t know. I don’t recognize the number.”

Beau glanced at the screen then back out the windshield. “It might be Repo. He uses burners.”

Burners, of course, being disposable cell phones thrown away before they can be traced.

Figuring Beau was probably right, I swiped my thumb across the screen and answered, “What?”

“You’re finally leaving the house.” Repo’s raspy voice emerged from the other end.

“Yeah, so?”

“So, you’re late.”

“Not yet.”

Repo chuckled. “I guess you still have a few minutes. While I have you, why don’t you tell me what Claire McClure was doing at your house earlier?”

I frowned and answered automatically and truthfully. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t see Claire at the house.”

“Our boys saw her pull into your drive around five this evening, and then leave a few minutes later. You know her daddy is my president, right? I don’t think he’d like one of you Winston boys messing with his daughter.”

“Like I said, I didn’t know she was there. What and who my brothers do is none of my business, and it ain’t yours either. And why are your recruits watching our house?”

I knew I was being followed, but I didn’t know the Order was watching the house. And I wasn’t going to volunteer that Claire must’ve been the one to drop off Jessica. Given the fact the Order had at least our driveway under surveillance, I was relieved Jess hadn’t driven over on her own. If she’d borrowed her daddy’s car I was certain I would now be getting shit from Repo about my relationship with the Sheriff’s daughter. Again.

I’d been avoiding her for the last few days for this very reason, hoping they’d stop shadowing me after tonight’s meeting.

Instead of answering my question, Repo lowered his voice and said, “None of your brothers better be doing anything with Claire. That girl is the property of the Order.”

My instinct was to argue, point out that Claire McClure hated them almost as much as we did, and would raise hell if she heard anyone say she was property.

Instead, I fought my urge to throw the phone out the window or smash it against the dashboard. “I have to talk to your ugly face in ten minutes, so I’m hanging up now.”

And I did.

Beau smirked at me. “I fucking hate that guy.”

“Nothing to like,” I agreed, my tone flat, still tempted to beat the shit out of my phone. Something needed to be smashed.

“Tina returned any of your calls yet?”

I shook my head, deciding to place the phone in the glove box, out of my reach. “No. Just text messages telling me to bring you to the Pink Pony. You?”

“Nope. I figure she wants us to go to the club and have a chat in person.”

I glanced out the side mirror at the four motorcycle headlights and flexed my jaw. “I think so, too. We’ll have to pay a visit.”

“Tomorrow night, you think? Or Friday?”

I shrugged. Either would work. Since Tina wouldn’t return my messages with anything other than invitations to watch her dance, I’d called Hank Weller, the owner of the Pink Pony, and asked for Tina’s schedule. She was no longer stripping Sunday through Thursday, only on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights. Hank also volunteered that she’d been spending more and more time at the Dragon Biker Bar, entertaining the Order.

At this point I wasn’t convinced she’d help us at all. Her loyalty might rest firmly with the bikers—what little loyalty she had. Still, it was worth a shot to feel her out, see if she’d be willing.

“You ready to do this?” To anyone else, Beau would probably sound like his normal, good-humored self. To me, his levity sounded fake, forced, a cover for anger and determination.

“I’m ready.”

I wasn’t nervous or afraid, these morons didn’t scare me. They pissed me off. And I was ready for this annoying game to be over.

***

As soon as we pulled up to the meeting spot—an abandoned barn about three miles from the Dragon Biker Bar—bikers swarmed our car and “escorted” us inside. Repo was sitting calmly by the door. Dirty Dave was pacing the dirt floor. In total, there were ten of them and two of us.

I sized each one up with detachment and decided, if all six of us Winston boys had been present, we’d likely be evenly matched.

“You ain’t stupid, but you’re reckless. Which can be difficult to tell apart, especially when the end result is the same.” Repo greeted me with these words, not standing as we entered. His expression was outwardly friendly, but I could see simmering anger behind his black eyes. He didn’t like that I’d hung up on him and I couldn’t bring myself to care.

“Let’s get this over with,” I mumbled, rolling my eyes.

“Now hold on, Duane.” Beau gave both me and Repo a valiantly convincing smile. “I haven’t seen Uncle Repo in a while.”

My response to these staged words was authentic. I tried not to gag. How Beau could say such shit with a straight face—and believably—was a miracle.

Most of the fury behind Repo’s expression eased and he stood to shake Beau’s hand. I crossed my arms over my chest. No fucking way I was shaking hands with these douche canoes. Luckily, my honest reaction was also the part I’d been assigned.

I was bad cop. Beau was good cop.

Thus, I stood passively as Beau and Repo exchanged pleasantries, noticing that the other nine bikers appeared to take their cues from Repo. They all visibly relaxed when they saw how friendly Beau and Repo were. Even Dirty Dave smiled at Beau, shaking his hand, calling him son instead of boy.

My twin had this effect on people, because he was so gifted at being insincere. I was convinced he could bullshit his way out of a federal prison if the need ever arose. He’d inherited our father’s gift of artless charm. Jethro, my oldest brother, had similar abilities. Roscoe, the youngest, was a close third.

Cletus, Ashley, and I possessed my mother’s temperament, too candid for our own good. And Billy turned his charm on and off like a switch. He used it when it served his purposes, but I could tell he hated every minute of it.

But unlike our father, and despite their charisma, my siblings were good people, worthy of my respect and trust. Well, actually…Jethro was questionable at times. Regardless, I’d do just about anything for all of them.

Eventually I grew tired of watching Beau make everyone laugh. “Are we going to get down to business anytime soon?”

The laughter tapered and Repo’s eyes slithered back to me, though he now appeared to be in a much better mood. “Sure thing, Duane. You boys ready to discuss terms of the partnership? I think you’ll find our offer of a thirty-seventy split more than fair.”

“Depends on who gets the thirty percent and who gets the seventy percent,” Beau quipped, making Dirty Dave chuckle like a bashful school girl.

“Now hold on.” I shook my head and stepped forward. “We haven’t agreed to anything.”

“Then what are we doing here, boy?” Dirty Dave lifted his fat finger like he was going to wave it in my face. But something in my expression must’ve given him pause, because he settled for sticking out his chin and barrel chest.

“Like I said, we haven’t agreed to anything.”

“You’re trying my patience, Duane,” Repo said, sounding more tired than angry.

Beau cut in, “What Duane means is, we can’t agree to something we’re not sure we can deliver.”

Repo narrowed his eyes—with confusion, not suspicion—and glanced between the two of us. “What does that mean?”

“It means we can’t use our shop for this operation. Its location is too public, and I don’t think anyone here wants us to get caught before we get started.” Beau’s words were entirely reasonable.

Repo nodded. “Okay. Fair point. I’m listening.”

I spoke next, because the plan was for me to break the bad news in a completely irritating way while Beau re-explained it, making it sound more palatable.

“So we’re not going to do it,” I stated, maybe with more belligerence than was called for.

“What Duane means,” Beau glanced at me like he was exasperated with my attitude, “is that we can’t do it, not until a suitable location is found.”

Dirty Dave shrugged and said just as we thought he would, “That’s easy, use Brick and Mortar’s shop.”

“Can’t.” I shook my head stubbornly. “First of all, it’s associated with the Order. Secondly, I overheard Jackson James mention their office is working on a warrant for that place.”

Repo’s eyes narrowed further. “You overheard?”

“Yep. Why do you think I’ve been so friendly with his sister?” I hoped Repo would believe this explanation for many reasons, not the least of which was that—if he did—then I’d be able to go about my business with Jess and not have to suffer through Repo’s reprimands and disapproval. But more than that, I hoped this version of my motivations would keep Jessica safe. I needed her safe and far away from this mess.

Thus, I was surprised by Repo’s answering thunderous expression and raised voice. “You’re using that girl, boy? You hurt her I will break you in two!”

Beau stepped between us. “Now come on, Repo. You’ve known us since we were babies. You know Duane. Do you think Duane would be able run a con on someone as clever as Jessica James?”

I should have been insulted by Beau’s insinuation that Jessica was my superior in intelligence, but I wasn’t. This was because he was likely right. Jess was smart. But I wasn’t intimated by her intellect, likely because—when paired with her sweetness—it turned me on so much.

Beau continued, “All he’s saying is that he’s taking advantage of a rare opportunity—access to the James’s household. That’s not using Miss James. That’s being resourceful to all of our benefit.”

Repo didn’t look entirely convinced and I was busy trying to figure out why he felt so invested in Jessica’s wellbeing. I thought about his comment last Saturday at Daisy’s, and wondered just how well Repo knew Jessica’s momma.

Beau pushed the conversation back on track. “So, that’s where we are. We’ve been busy over the last two weeks. If your fine brothers here have been keeping tabs on us then they’ve probably told you about how Duane and I have been scouting locations.”

Repo glanced at Dirty Dave. Dave gave him a short nod. Repo frowned and exhaled loudly, searching the floor as he considered the matter.

Finally he said, “You should have contacted us. We have properties everywhere. One of them is bound to suit.”

I shook my head. “No way. Like I said, we’re not doing this using one of your properties.”

“Why the hell not?” Dirty Dave lifted his chin again.

“Because nothing could be more obvious, old man. Suddenly you have two Winston brothers, auto mechanics, making frequent visits to one of your warehouses right after Brick and Mortar are put away? That’s just stupid.”

Luckily Beau didn’t have to interpret because Repo nodded thoughtfully at my tirade. “He’s right. Better these boys find the space themselves, outfit it. The less evidence of a partnership between us the better. Bringing Brick and Mortar into the Order was a mistake. It made things difficult over the years, trying to get things done without police always doing random searches.”

No one else noticed, but I saw Beau’s shoulders relax at Repo’s words, his smile came a bit easier. I was still outwardly scowling, but took Repo’s agreement as a victory.

Jethro was due to return in two weeks. If we could hold the Order off for another two weeks, then maybe Jethro could help us sort this mess out without getting our hands dirty. Or maybe Tina could be convinced to wipe their files and bring us a copy.

Either way, this was the stay of execution we needed.

“All right, looks like we have a plan.” Beau rubbed his hands together, nodding at Dirty Dave, then at me.

“Yeah…” Repo scrutinized Beau. “But this search can’t go on forever. You two need to find a place this week.”

Beau chuckled, like this demand was made as a good-natured joke. “This week? Repo, we’re coming up against Thanksgiving. Ain’t no one going to meet with us about property this week. We need at least until January first.”

“If no one will meet with you before Thanksgiving, then ain’t no one going to talk to you around Christmas neither. You have until the second week of December and that’s it.”

I shook my head, but grumbled, “Fine. Second week of December.”

Luckily, I was much better at pretending to be irritated than I was at pretending to be nice.