Double Down

by Carolina Mac

  “I’m fine now,” he lied.

  “Yeah, and I’m Joan of Arc. Go to sleep.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Thursday, March 2nd.

  JESSE HAD BREAKFAST with Blaine, Farrell and Annie after the kids went to school and the cowboys went to the barn.

  “You’re quiet this morning, sugar. Feeling okay?”

  “I’m fine, Ace.” Jesse reached over and patted her arm. “I wish you’d quit looking at me like I’m gonna kick off any second.”

  “Okay, I’ll cut you some slack today if you promise not to do anything crazy. I’ve got to go to the hospital with Declan and see what’s going on with Race. Meet you back here

  before dinner and we’ll have a beer together.”

  “I’ve got a meeting with Ty and Paul to put me on their training schedule, then I’ll pick up some of my stuff from the trailer.”

  Annie kissed him on the neck, grabbed her purse off the

  island and left.

  When he heard the front door close, Blaine grinned at Jesse, “Hey, Daddy, how’s married life going?”

  “Fuck, Blacky.” Jesse stood up and whacked his Stetson across his leg. “I’ve got to establish a work schedule before I lose my fuckin mind.”

  Blaine chuckled. “This is only day one. You gonna lose it so soon?”

  GOVERNOR RICHARDSON only kept the boys waiting a few minutes in his outer office. He burst through the door, his hand extended and a wide smile on his face. “Welcome, boys. Been awhile. Come on in. Coffee please, Mrs. Warburton, if you don’t mind.”

  Blaine wondered if he’d ever seen the big woman smile. He must have, at least once. He walked past her desk with Travis and Farrell behind him, into the Governor’s spacious office. The number one man in Texas pointed to the club chairs in front of his ornate desk and the boys sat.

  Richardson, about to run for his third term, showed a little more gray around the temples than he had the last time Blaine had seen him. When was that? Only a few weeks before.

  “Seems like somebody is missing,” said the Governor, “Don’t guess I’ll get used to Jesse being retired any time soon.” He tapped the end of his letter opener on the leather desk pad. “Can’t say I like it much.”

  “We don’t like it either, sir,” said Blaine, “And you’re right—doesn’t feel right without him here.”

  “How’s his back healing where he took the arrow?”

  “Coming along well,” said Blaine. “Declan is monitoring the process.”

  “Jesse saved my life and I owe him,” said Richardson. “I want to find some way to repay him.”

  “Your alive and safe,” said Blaine, “that’s all any of us wanted, sir.”

  The Governor changed the subject. “How was the honeymoon?”

  “He looks better,” said Blaine. “Has a bit of color in his face now. Still gives me the shakes when I think of how close we came to losing him on the operating table.”

  “I’m sure Annie will have her eye on him from here on,” said Richardson. “Not much gets by her.”

  “No sir,” said Farrell. “I can attest to that.”

  Mrs. Warburton brought the coffee tray in and set it on the antique sideboard.

  “Help yourselves, boys. I could use a cup myself.”

  “I’ll get it for you, sir.” Blaine crossed the room with the boys behind him and filled two cups. “Just cream?”

  “Thanks, son. Are you going to manage the new team with just the three of you?”

  Blaine set the Governor’s coffee in front of him and returned to his chair. “Nope. Interviews this afternoon. Hope we can pick up somebody that doesn’t need too much hand-holding.”

  “That would be best,” said the Governor, “Chief Calhoun has any number of cases waiting at headquarters for y’all, as soon as y’all are ready.”

  “Anything in particular in mind for us, sir?” asked Travis. He took a sip of his coffee and set the cup on the corner of the desk.

  “Nope. I’m giving y’all a chance to settle in, then I’ll have a chat to Randy and see what he’s got at the top of the priority list.”

  DECLAN DROVE ANNIE to Fayette Memorial hospital in La Grange. “Race’s doctor wants a meeting, darlin, must mean something is up with our Mr. Ogilvie.”

  “Hope it’s something I can handle, Dec. With Jesse

  moving in and me trying to get off on the right foot with my new husband, I don’t want Race screwing up my life again.”

  Declan grinned. “Race has a way of doing that, doesn’t he? Whether he means to or not.”

  “When Jesse and I planned our wedding, and talked about living arrangements, I was surprised when the big cowboy agreed to live in the same house as Race. I would have taken bets against it.”

  “Uh huh. But Race is not the man he once was,” said

  Declan, “all his aggression and belligerence disappeared after his near drowning. Maybe that made a difference to Jesse.”

  Annie shrugged. “Maybe.”

  Doctor Marshall showed them into his office, a small square cubicle on the sixth floor. “Mrs. Coulter-Ross, nice to see you again.”

  “You too, Doctor Marshall. Were you able to come up with a diagnosis on Race?”

  He shuffled through some papers on his cluttered desk. “Not an easy one, I’m afraid. With a neurological deficit as severe as Mr. Ogilvie suffered from his oxygen deprivation, often there are no cut and dried answers. Things happen with no apparent explanation.”

  “But this is the first time he’s passed out since his surgery,” said Declan, “and it’s been several months.”

  “There does seem to be more activity in one area of his brain, but I don’t see how it would account for him losing consciousness.”

  “What area is that?” asked Declan.

  “He may be regaining fragments of his memory.”

  Annie rolled her eyes.

  The doctor took in her expression and ventured, “I’m

  sensing you may not be looking on this as good news?”

  Annie tried a half-smile. “I guess it could go either way.”

  Doctor Marshall stood up. “Well, for good or not, he might as well go home. There’s nothing we can do for him here that Mr. O’Connor can’t do for him at home.”

  “Thanks, doctor,” said Annie. “I guess we’ll wait and see what happens.”

  RACE SAT in the wheelchair ready to go home, a big grin pasted on his handsome face. Annie had been so in love with him when he was president of The Rule, one of the biggest and most violent bike gangs in Nevada. Race couldn’t remember any of that now, his past buried in the Colorado River with parts of his brain. But Annie could remember all too clearly, and she had Jackson to remind her of that all-consuming love, every single day.

  If Race gets his memory back, what will it do to my marriage to Jesse?

  Annie shivered as she stared at Race’s handsome face. “You look ready to go, sugar.”

  “Yep. Doc said there’s nothing wrong with me. Might start to remember a few things. That’s about it.”

  “Well, that won’t be the worst of it, will it, lad?”

  “Nope. I want to remember Annie and Jackson. They’re my family and my life.”

  JESSE DROVE SLOWLY DOWN the familiar long lane into Quantrall, not wanting to miss a single pecan or cottonwood tree. He couldn’t believe he had missed his ranch so badly.

  Only two weeks since his wedding and his life had changed so drastically. In his heart, for the past five years he had wanted nothing more than to marry Annie and make a life with her.

  Hawaii couldn’t have been better. Gorgeous scenery, perfect weather every day with a cooling breeze off the ocean. Wonderful food in every restaurant they visited. Restful and relaxing. The perfect honeymoon. And Annie had given him all her attention. The two weeks had been dreamlike in its perfection.

  Now came the hard part—making the transition to life at Coulter-Ross. Thoughts of living in the chaos that Annie regarded as her n
ormal day-to-day was the very thing that had always been the stumbling block for him. Would he ever feel comfortable over there?

  Today, all he wanted was to drive across the back pasture to his trailer and lock himself in with his dogs.

  Jesus, man. You got what you wanted. Man up.

  He drove past the house his father had built with love for his large family, a huge Spanish-style mansion with black shutters and iron grates fronting the upstairs windows. In the hot weather, Jesse loved to sit on the massive wrap-around porch with his brothers, lifting a few cold ones and shooting the breeze.

  Why couldn’t Annie move to his ranch? He had room for

  everybody. He’d ask her again.

  He found Tyler and Paul in the horse barn. Both of his younger brothers were in the office, heads down, trying to fix a glitch on the computer.

  Quantrall Appaloosas was his business, his responsibility, and once again, his focus was elsewhere. The stress was building again. The signal in his chest put him on alert.

  “Hey, guys, I’m here to report for work.”

  Tyler jumped off his stool and grabbed him in a bearhug. “Didn’t know two weeks would be so fuckin long. Missed you, bro.”

  “Me too,” said Paul with a chuckle. “Things went so fuckin smooth it was unreal.” He punched Jesse in the shoulder then hugged him.

  Tyler was five years younger than Jesse, but the closest to him. They looked enough alike to be twins, tall and dark,

  Jesse being the heavier of the two by a few pounds. Paul was the youngest and looked like Bobby—tall, slim and blond.

  “I’ll put a couple in the arena for you,” said Paul. “Annie called and said you could only work until noon this week.”

  Jesse felt a touch of anger creeping up the back of his neck as he stamped his boot down on the concrete floor. “What the hell? I’ll work as much as I want to.”

  “It’s okay, Jesse.” Paulie held up a hand. “Your bride is concerned about your heart and the surgery on your back, and she’s reading from Brian’s instruction sheet, that’s all it is. Don’t get in a fizz over it. You’ll be having your first fight.”

  Jesse chuckled. “Yeah, I almost lost it at breakfast the way she was looking at me.”

  “Relax,” said Ty, “that’s the key.” He pointed, “The arena always relaxes you. Go with Paulie and smooth out that big gelding I’m having a time with.”

  JESSE LED THE big spotted animal into the arena and the smell of horse, the dirt floor in the training ring, and the

  perfume of straw and manure hanging heavy in the air almost reduced him to tears. He fought back the burning sensation behind his eyes and tried to get a grip.

  What the hell was wrong with him? Since his heart attack, he’d been an emotional train wreck. Brian said that might happen, but he hadn’t bothered to listen too closely to his brother—he rarely did when Brian switched into his doctor mode. Had Brian told him what to do to shake it off? Or how long it would last?

  Don’t tell me I’m going to have to ask him. He’ll preach to me for at least half a fuckin day.

  He jumped on the horse’s back, leaned forward and encouraged the big boy into a gentle cantor. The rhythm alone began to ease his stress.

  THE MORNING WAS gone before he knew it, and Ty was at the door waving to him and telling him it was lunch time. “Wind it up for today, Jesse. He’s behaving like a prince now. You’ve got the gift, bro.”

  After he washed up, Jesse took his regular seat at the long

  dining room table. Brian was at the clinic in Smithville, and Bobby was at work at the Foundation, so it was just the three of them.

  Molly served chicken and dumplings with hot biscuits and Jesse found himself eating more than he had in a long while.

  “We need a night out to celebrate you getting hitched up,” said Paul. “Just the three of us at Boots, like we used to.”

  “Yeah,” said Ty, “we didn’t have time to throw you a bachelor party or anything before your quick wedding.”

  Jesse set his fork down. “Ever think it was too quick? Did that ever cross either one of y’all’s Einstein brains?”

  Tyler screwed up his face, “What the hell are you talking about, Jesse? It’s what you always wanted—to be married to Annie. Can’t believe you just said that.”

  “I love Ace, not saying I don’t, but what if I just thought I wanted to be married. What if I was wrong?”

  “It’s called a divorce,” said Paul. “Heard of it?”

  “Fuck, yeah, I’ve heard of it, you, asshole.”

  Tyler stuck his hand under the napkin and helped himself to another warm biscuit. “All you need is time to adjust. It’s a big step getting married.” He pointed his knife with a big gob of butter on it at Paul. “Just ask Mr. Matrimony over there.”

  “Well, Paulie?” Jesse looked across the table at the

  youngest Quantrall. “Got any insight for me?”

  “First thing you gotta develop is a lot of patience. You need a whole shitload of it to deal with a wife day in and day out. It ain’t like you can take them back to their own house and drop them off like the date is over. The fuckin date never ends.”

  Jesse laughed. “Thanks, Paulie, that helped a helluva lot.”

  JESSE WALKED BACK to the barn with his brothers after lunch. He saddled up his own horse, Prince Corcoran—Corky for short—and rode out to his trailer. He had a bedroom in the main house, but the trailer felt like his real home. His private space—just him and his dogs.

  He opened the door and the dogs bounded out—Red and Bluebelle—his two bloodhounds. They jumped on him and covered him with kisses. “Hey, I missed you too. Go for a run and I’ll wait for y’all.”

  Inside, he paced the length of the trailer, lingered in the biggest bedroom that he had converted into the office for Quantrall Investigations, then opened the fridge to see if his luck was holding. Yep, a six pack of Lone Stars—ice cold. He popped the top on one and took it onto the bedroom. Bed was unmade from the last morning he was here. He straightened the covers, grabbed a duffel out of the closet, tossed it on the bed and opened it up. He stared at his clothes wondering why he had so many, and suddenly felt a wave of exhaustion roll over him. He shoved the duffel out of the way and lay down on the bed.

  BLAINE TOOK THE BOYS to Logan’s for burgers in downtown Austin after the meeting with the Governor, then they headed back to the ranch for the interviews.

  “Do we get to sit in the office while you ask them questions, and hear the answers, and shit like that?” asked Farrell.

  Blaine shrugged. “Do you want to?”

  “Yeah, I do. I want to make sure we ain’t hiring some wimpy asshole who doesn’t have the first clue how to watch our backs. I’d feel safer if I got a read on them for myself.”

  “And you think I’d hire a clueless wimpy asshole if you weren’t there to guide me?” asked Blaine.

  “Could happen,” said Farrell. “You’ve fucked up before.”

  Blaine reached across the console and punched him in the gut. “Name the time, and I want all the details.”

  Farrell winced. “Can’t think right now, but it will come to me.”

  Blaine pulled up to the gate and there was a rusty Volkswagen Beetle in front of him waiting to get in.

  “Who the hell is that?” asked Farrell.

  “Might be one of the candidates.” Blaine glanced at the clock on the dash. “We’re running a bit behind.”

  Jose opened the gate, and Blaine followed the Beetle into the compound. He parked beside it, strode up to the driver’s window and stuck his hand out. “Blaine Blackmore, are you here about the job?”

  “Yes, sir,” she said. “Okay if I park here?”

  Blaine nodded, waited until she’d extricated her six feet of thinness from the driver’s seat and slung her purse over her shoulder.”

  “Follow me around the back, if you would. I’m using the back entrance.”

  “Sure.”

  She fe
ll into step behind Blaine. Travis and Farrell brought up the rear.

  “In here,” Blaine opened the door to the office and stood to the side. “Have a seat.”

  The woman placed her resume in the exact center of the desk, then slumped down into one of the club chairs facing. Blaine closed the office door and pointed to the sofa for Travis and Farrell.

  He picked up her resume. “Miss Baine, give me a

  minute to look this over, if you would.”

  Tall and skinny with her gray hair buzzed off. Nothing

  attractive about her. That could be both good and bad. She’s military—too much like Travis—that’s gonna be a problem.

  “So… former Army MP. Two tours overseas. And I see you already have your PI license for Texas.”

  She smiled. “Yes, sir. I see you can read.”

  Smart ass too. Bad combo with Farrell.

  “Do you have experience with surveillance equipment?”

  She pointed and snapped out a retort. “Right there on page two.”

  She’s not gonna be easy to manage. Don’t want her no matter how qualified she is.

  Blaine focused on her eyes and made his decision. He stood up and opened the door for her. “Farrell will walk you to your vehicle, ma’am. We’ll let you know if we need a

  second interview.”

  Travis rolled his eyes when the woman left, looking like he was about to offer his opinion, but thought better of it and didn’t comment.

  Blaine’s cell rang, and he took the call. “Uh huh. Okay. Thanks for calling.” He said to Travis, “The third guy isn’t coming. He’s sick with the flu.”

  Farrell returned with the second applicant in tow. “Found him out by the gate, boss. This is Logan Pritchard.”

  Blaine stuck out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Logan. Have a seat. Did you bring a resume?”

  Logan Pritchard looked like nothing out of the ordinary—medium height, average build, short brown hair, brown eyes, not bad looking.

  “The agency called this morning and my Mom had already gone to work, so I couldn’t get it off the computer. Didn’t know how to make it print. Sorry.”