A Death in Texas (Heritage Book 1)

by Ciana Stone

  “Kalvin Burton?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why would you date him?”

  “Because he's an interesting man.”

  “He's old enough to be your father.”

  “So?”

  “So?” Russell stood. “That's no small matter, Cici. Not to mention, it bothers me that you're dating someone we might be butting legal heads with.”

  “I don't see the problem.”

  “You mean you don't want to see a problem.”

  “I won't let there be one.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “Have I ever let you down?”

  Russell hated being asked that question. He walked over to the window, shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and looked outside. “You've pushed the limits of my patience more times than I can count.”

  “But have I ever failed to come through for you or be here for you when you really need me?”

  “No.” He had to be honest, even when it annoyed him.

  Cici got up and crossed the room to him. “I'll always be here for you, Dad.”

  Russell put an arm around her shoulder and hugged her up to his side. “Same here, Cici. Let me ask you something, and I'm not trying to rile you up, just curious.”

  “What?”

  “You don't think there's too much of an age difference between a woman your age and a man Kal's?”

  “No. Do you?”

  “Well, I don't know. I mean, you see a lot of men my age – divorced and not quite sure what to do with themselves and next thing you know, they have a young wife, and everyone's talking about them behind their backs.”

  Cici shrugged. “Who gives a flying fuck what people say? I mean I get that some old coots have trophy wives and you know the moment you see them the woman married the old fart for his money because—”

  She ticked off the points on the fingers of her left hand with the index finger of her right. “One-he's old as fuck, so it's sure as hell not for sex. He probably can't get it up with a dose of Viagra. Two-he's a mean old shit who thinks tweaking a woman's nipple is entertaining and has a harsh word about everything and three, the only thing he has going for him is his wealth.”

  She let her hands fall and looked out of the window because some of what she was going to say was going to be stretching the truth. But she started with honesty because the best place to hide a lie is between two truths.

  “But then there are men like Kal, and like you, Dad. Women are always going to be attracted to you. Yeah, maybe for your money, or your power, but also because you're real men, and women get that. So, you want to tell me what this is really about because you know it's not about Kal and me.”

  Then came the lie and even though it gnawed at her to do it, she spoke the words as if they were gospel. “Who the hell knows if I'll see him again or if I'll like him the next time we go out? Or if he'll like me. We're just in the flirting and getting to know one another phase.”

  Then it was back to honesty, and for that she looked directly at him. “You know I’ll never let anyone hurt you or Heritage. Kal included.”

  Russell nodded. She'd given him something to think about. “I appreciate your honesty.”

  “And I'd appreciate yours.”

  Russell cut her a look. “Meaning?”

  “Can we be frank?”

  “Always.”

  “Fine, then here's the way I see it. You and Naomie Taylor have it bad for each other, but you both have your heels dug in about not crossing that line for whatever reason, and it's your business, but can I just say that if you really like her, then go for it, Dad. None of us live forever and damn if we shouldn't grab what happiness we can while we can.”

  Russell wasn't often surprised by his youngest child, but today he was. When had Cici developed into a woman with a wise streak? He knew she was smart. She could run mental circles around most people, and when it came to the legal game, she was an assassin. Maybe he'd underestimated her.

  “Good point. But being frank, let me say that while I'm not at all comfortable with this thing between you and Kal, I know you're smart enough to handle it, and if by some strange twist of fate, he turns out to be the one, I'll do my best not to be a horse’s ass about it.”

  “What more can a girl ask?” Cici chuckled and hugged him. “I've got to go. I should have some answers to this situation by mid-week. I'll get the investigators on it as soon as I get home.”

  “You sure you don't want to stay the night?”

  Damn. She was burning a streak on lies right now, but there was no way in hell she would tell her father that Kal’s was fueled and waiting to take her to him.

  “I have to go, Dad.”

  “Okay.” He gave her a hug. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  Russell watched her leave the room, then turned his gaze to the scene beyond the window. He saw Mace and Riggs walk out of the house and get into Mace's SUV. When Russell checked his watch, he realized they were probably going to pick up Naomie and Bailey for their night out.

  Night out. Russell's last night out was Mathias and Reece's wedding. Damn, like he needed to think about that night. With a grunt, he headed to his study and sat down in his desk chair. There were always business matters that needed his attention.

  The first thing he picked up was the contract for the new horses. Russell swore and let the papers fall to the desk. More reminders of Naomie.

  His thoughts turned to what CiCi said. Was he being foolish, sticking to his guns about getting involved, or was he just plain scared that he was barking up the wrong tree and Naomie wasn't nearly as interested as he'd like to think?

  Get a grip. He couldn't allow those kinds of thoughts to hold sway. What he needed was a friend he could count on, someone who would always be honest, someone dependable and someone he could share a meal or a drink with and be comfortable. Naomie was that and more. He didn't want to lose that, and letting sex or love into the picture might destroy what they had.

  Chicken.

  Russell sometimes purely hated having an inner voice that wouldn't allow him to fall for his own bullshit. It was at times, like now, a real pain in the ass.

  Chapter Eight– February 24th, 2019

  Naomie heard someone yell her name as soon as they walked into the Honky Tonk. She craned to see and spotted Lula at a big table. Lincoln was with her, along with Mathias and Reese. “Come on,” she said to Mace, Riggs, and Bailey.

  Mace and Riggs already knew everyone at the table. Bailey was the newcomer, so Naomie introduced her to everyone. “You work with this one?” Reese gestured to Naomie. “And haven't gotten fired yet? Naomie are you losing your touch?”

  “As if,” Naomie said and added for Bailey. “Don't listen to a word of that. I rarely get anyone fired.”

  “Yeah, but in trouble or doing something crazy?” Reese said. “Remember when you got Russell Walker to dress up like a preacher to come look for us?”

  “Say what?” Mace asked.

  “You didn't know about that?” Mathias asked and looked at Riggs. “You didn't hear this story?”

  “Oh, hell yes I did. From the horse's mouth.”

  “Dad?” Mace asked.

  “Yep.” Riggs smiled at the blonde server who walked over to their table. “Hey, darlin'. Could we get a couple of pitchers of whatever you have on draft that isn't light? Make that three.” He looked at the table of people. “No, make that four.”

  “You got it.”

  “Thank you kindly.”

  Naomie elbowed him when he sat down beside her. “Cool your jets hotstuff – she's engaged.”

  “I didn't do anything, and if you think you're changing the subject, you are so wrong. Now, y'all wanna hear it the way our father told it?”

  “No.” Naomie said at the same moment everyone else said “Yes.”

  “Okay, so here's what he told me,” Riggs told how Naomie had g
otten shot, taking a bullet meant for Reese, how Reese and Mathias had been nabbed while Naomie was in the hospital, and the plan Naomie cooked up to rescue them.

  “So, Dad said that despite feeling he was making a big mistake, he went along with her plan…

  Naomie was dressed in a denim skirt that hit around mid-thigh with rhinestones on the pockets in a star pattern, pink cowboy boots and a white tank top that was low enough in the front to display a pink push-up bra. Her hair cascaded over one shoulder in curls, and she tossed her head in a sassy motion as she walked up the steps of the old house.

  She’d insisted Reese and Mathias were being held and knew that to be a fact because of an app she’d installed on Reese’s phone to track her. Russell had argued against the plan at first, but when she showed him the app and no one could find Reese or Mathias, he reluctantly went along with the plan.

  As she marched up the steps and pounded on the front door of the old farm-house, Russell said for the third time. “This is a bad idea.”

  How she'd managed to talk the nursing staff at the hospital to round up the outfits they wore was a mystery. Here she was looking like a Dixie whore and him wearing a minister's collar. He should've had better sense than to let her talk him into this.

  “Shhh!” She frowned at him then beat on the door again. “I know you're in there, Bobby Dean. Billy Meeks told me you was staying here with your granddaddy so you might as well get your skinny butt out here!”

  The light beside the door came on, and she took a step back. The door opened, and a man looked through the rusted screen. “What the hell you want?”

  “You better get Bobby Dean out here right this minute.”

  “There ain't no Bobby Dean here, you crazy bitch.”

  “Preacher, did you hear that?” Naomie grabbed the handle of the screen door and yanked it open. “You're going straight to hell. Bobby Dean! You hear me? Get out here Bobby!”

  The man stepped out onto the porch. “I told you, there ain't no Bobby here. Now git!”

  “Bobby Dean!” Naomie shoved at the man. “Bobby!”

  The man reared back like he was going to hit her. “You crazy—”

  “You're gonna want to rethink that move, son.” Russell was up the steps onto the porch, with his gun pointed right at the man's forehead before the man could strike a blow.

  Naomie jerked free, scooted around the man and plucked a handgun from the back waistband of his pants. “How many people in the house?”

  “Fuck you.” The man kept his eyes on Russell.

  “Don't make me ask you again.”

  “Fuck you, bitch.”

  “That's Mzzz Bitch, to you.”

  Russell didn't know who was more surprised when she pointed the gun downward and fired. The man howled and reached for support. He ended up with his back plastered against the wall of the house, white-faced and gasping in pain. His right foot encased in an old boot now sported a bullet hole.

  “Now, let's try that again,” Naomie pointed the gun at the man's crotch as he struggled to stand. “How many people in the house?”

  “Kill 'em, Donny!” The man yelled and a moment later, the sound of pounding feet could be heard inside the house.

  Naomie looked at Russell, and he saw fear on her face. Not for herself, he thought, but for Reese. With no time to think, he holstered his gun and laid the wounded man out with a punch. To her credit, Naomie didn't even blink.

  “Stay behind me,” Russell ordered and slowly eased open the door.

  “She was right.” Reese interrupted the narrative. “Mathias and I were in the basement and heard her and Russell.” She reached across the table for Naomie's hand. “They saved us.”

  “No, we didn't,” Naomie argued. “We just created a diversion, and Mathias kicked the crap out of the rest of the bad guys.”

  “But you came for us and risked your own safety,” Mathias said.

  “And didn't get one damn person fired,” Naomie added and earned laughter from everyone.

  The server and two others returned with the pitchers of beer and glasses. Once everyone had a full mug, Riggs lifted his. “Here's to Dr. Naomie Roma Taylor, Doctor of damn near everything. Daughter of Lavina, the child of a Gypsy mother and an Indian—dot not feather—father and Steven Roland Taylor, a man from a good Kentucky family who raised thoroughbreds. And hands down, without a doubt, the only person in the world who could've gotten Russell Walker to dress up as a preacher to attempt a rescue.”

  “To Naomie!”

  Everyone toasted and then the music cranked up. Naomie stood and took hold of Riggs' arm. “Come on, dance with me.”

  As they left the table, Bailey, who was sitting between Mace and Reese, spoke up. “So, Mace. About that dance you promised?”

  He smiled, stood and offered his hand. As they headed for the dance floor, Reese looked across the table at Lula. “Do you get the feeling Naomie's been playing matchmaker with those two?”

  “Sounds about right. And they do look good together don't they?”

  “Yeah, they do. We need to get the girls together soon. It’s been too long. Maybe we should invite Bailey?”

  “Sounds good. Let's do it.” Lula then turned to Lincoln. “Wanna dance?”

  “With you? Always.”

  On the dance floor, Mace twirled Bailey around then pulled her into his arms. She smiled up at him. “Naomie's something, isn't she?”

  “Yeah, she is.”

  “Is your dad in love with her?”

  That question took Mace by surprise and at the same time opened his eyes to what had been there in front of him. “I don't know. He's been married three times and has kids by four different women. He swears he'll never get involved with another woman.”

  “Naomie isn't just any woman.”

  “No, she's not. Neither are you, I suspect.”

  “Oh? You got that from my smooth dance moves?”

  Mace laughed, delighted at her quick comeback. “No, it just occurs to me that Naomie's friends and the people she brings close are pretty extraordinary, so it stands to reason that you are, too. She kind of insisted Dad hire you.”

  “Really? She didn't tell me that.”

  “Don't let her know I told you, then. But yes, she was very determined, and I've learned that Naomie doesn't take no for an answer very easy. Particularly when it comes to quality. She demands a lot of herself and the people she works with. Which means you must be very good at what you do.”

  “I'd like to think so. I know I love it. And your ranch foreman's wife is helping me by planting some of the flowers I want to cultivate in with the wildflowers at the solar and windmill farms your family owns. Your family's pretty amazing, you know.”

  “I think so, but I'm a bit prejudiced.”

  “No? Really?”

  Mace laughed and swung her around. He was glad he'd accepted the invitation to join them for a night out. It'd been a while since he'd relaxed, spent time with friends and enjoyed the company of a beautiful woman.

  He'd have to remember to thank Naomie. Bailey Strong might not turn out to be his happily ever after, but he was pretty keen on finding out if she could at least be his happily for now.

  Chapter Nine – February 24th, 2019

  Cici sipped from the champagne flute and looked out at the city as she relaxed in the back seat of the limo. Kalvin had a car waiting for her when the plane landed, and she was now on her way to his penthouse in the flagship hotel of his California city.

  She was conflicted over the outcome of the meeting with her family. On the one hand, she was relieved that she’d made peace with her father. She didn’t want to endanger her job. Cici enjoyed a good deal of status because of her position as head counsel for Heritage.

  On a selfish and, yes, conceited level, she also relished being the child whom her father looked to for legal advice. Mace and Nash might be the best in the world at running ranches and farming operations. Riggs might be the most kick-ass Navy Seal in the history of th
e Navy. Dillon could be headed for an NFL coaching career one day, and Delaney might be the glue that helped to hold the family together when the fighting started, but she, Cici, was the legal mind her father depended on and she wasn't going to lose that.

  She didn’t, however, look forward to the assignment that had landed on her plate regarding the land Kal had apparently purchased adjacent to one of the Heritage borders. Cici didn’t believe he had anything to do with poisoning the stream. She’d seen a side of Kal her father didn’t know. A man who’d give away over a quarter of a million dollars to help people less fortunate than he, and do it with joy, was not a man who’d stoop to such things as poisoning a water supply.

  The last two days had opened her eyes to what she wanted in a partner, and Kalvin Burton was looking very much like he could fill that role. But then they hadn’t slept together, and Cici knew herself well enough to admit that if the sex wasn’t good, the relationship would sour. As superficial as it might be, she needed passion as well as companionship.

  So, the question was, could Kalvin Burton be that man? She would know soon enough since the car was pulling up in front of his building. Cici set aside her champagne flute, picked up her purse and looked through the glass as the car came to a smooth stop.

  A suited man waiting at the entrance hurried to open her door. “Good evening, Ms. Walker, I'm Daniel. Mr. Burton is waiting for you in the main salon. If you'll allow me to escort you, the driver will see that your things are brought in and delivered to the penthouse.”

  “Thank you, Daniel,” she replied and fell in step with him as he gestured toward the door.

  As promised, Kalvin was waiting in the main salon. All alone. It was an impressive place, glass, and steel with splashes of red that echoed from one reflective surface to another. Cici looked around in surprise and when Kalvin walked over to her, asked. “Where is everyone?”

  “I wanted you to myself.”

  “May I take your things, ma'am?” Daniel asked Cici and at her nod, took her purse to the sole table that was set for dinner.

  Kalvin watched and gave Daniel a nod. “Thank you, Daniel.”

  “Sir.” Daniel inclined his head and departed.