by Carolina Mac
“Thanks, girl, I have no idea why I was arrested. There are no charges against me that I know of. Everything was dismissed after my brain surgery.”
Stan sat in the chair next to the bed with his briefcase on his lap, and Annie paced by the window. “There must have been one charge that escaped them,” said Stan, “and then it came up on somebody’s screen, and here you are. Let’s see if we can sort it out.”
Race let his head flop back on his pillow. “Thanks.”
“I’ll go into the waiting area and send some e-mails,” said Stan to Annie. “Come get me when you’re ready to go.”
Annie nodded.
As soon as the door closed behind Stan, Race reached for Annie’s hand. “Don’t be mad at me, baby. This is on you. You lied to me, telling me you were taking Jackson to his Grandmother’s in Santa Fe. Why did you do that?”
“Because I needed time with Jesse to sort out our marriage and I didn’t want you interfering like you always do.”
“The only reason I do is because I love you, and you are with the wrong man. You belong to me.”
“No, I don’t, Race. You gave me up when you went to prison for your club. You made your choice and I made mine. I had Jackson on my own and raised him on my own.”
“The minute they let me out of Huntsville, I came straight back to you—no detours. Now we’re a family, Annie. Jackson loves me and knows me as his father. I don’t want to lose that.”
“Jackson will always love you, Race, for the rest of your life.”
“Thanks for getting me a decent lawyer.”
“Tell me the truth. Why are you in Canada?”
“I was upset when I found out you lied to me, and I followed you.” He shrugged. “I shouldn’t have done it. I found the cabin up north and you had already left. A branch hit me on the head, and I got hurt. That’s it—the whole story.”
“You don’t do things because you’re upset, Race. With you, it’s always bigger than that and much more violent. You do things to get even. You were either going to hurt me for lying to you, or you were going to kill Jesse to get him out of the way. Which one?”
“I would never hurt you, Annie. I love you.”
“Then you came to Canada intending to kill Jesse.”
Race shook his head. “I would never do that.”
She knows me too well.
“Of course, you would. “Let’s see if Stan can work his magic, and if you are released into my custody there will be a whole new set of rules in play.” Annie stood up and glared at him. “Break one—I kill you myself.”
Race smiled as she left the room.
I love her so much.
JESSE DROVE to Coulter-Ross to find out what was going on with Annie, and when he arrived, Blaine turned in the long lane behind him. Jesse stopped for Jose to open the gate, pulled through and parked near the garage.
Blaine parked beside Jesse’s old Jeep and hopped out. “Hey, good timing. Come on in for a beer and we’ll do a round up.”
They sat at the harvest table and Blaine gave his opinion on how things had wrapped up. “Not worth a shit if you ask me, but nobody did. Let’s have another beer.”
“Any news on Annie?”
“Jesus H., Jesse, I did not want her to go and get tangled up in that Race mess.” He lowered his voice, “Took me hours to find the fuckin outstanding warrant. Then I sent an e-mail to Cal telling them Ogilvie was out of jail. You think I want Annie fixing it? Only reason I did it was so you guys would have a chance.”
Jesse tipped up his beer and took a long pull. “I thought you might have been the culprit, and I thank you for the effort.”
“Yeah, but it ain’t gonna work, is it?”
Jesse shook his head. “No, it’s not. She’s up there now, worrying over him again. I’ve got no choice, Blacky, and I hate to do it, but I’m packing my stuff and moving home.”
“Brian on your case?”
“He was this morning, and he’s not just shooting the breeze to hear himself. I have to listen to him.”
Blaine nodded. “You do. You can’t afford another big one, like the last time.”
“I’ll take all my stuff out of the closet and leave her a note.” He held his hands up. “Not that it will be a surprise. I begged her not to go to Canada.”
“I’ll be in deep shit, too, if this lawyer digs in and finds out who sent the e-mail to California. Annie will be on me like a duck on a bug.”
“Fuck, we both should hole up in the trailer.”
“Speaking of which,” said Blaine, “what do you think about giving Enright a try?”
Jesse shrugged. “Seems competent, and he’s been with the DEA for years in some tough situations. Let’s give him three months and see where we are.”
“Okay, I’ll tell him to find a place to live and he can start next Monday. We haven’t got anything hot right now.”
Jesse spent the next half hour in the master suite packing up his clothes and boots. Before he carried the load out to his Jeep, he wrote Annie a note.
I love you, Ace. That’s not the issue here. I’m moving home for reasons we’ve discussed. Nothing has changed, and maybe nothing ever will. Jesse.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
ANNIE’S MOOD had never been darker. She arrived in Austin with Race tagging along behind her, barely functioning. In her heart, she knew without a doubt she had wrecked her marriage to Jesse.
And Blaine, her son that she trusted completely, had betrayed her. He had alerted the authorities in California, knowing Race would be flagged at the border and arrested.
The pain was so all-encompassing, she couldn’t tell which hurt was the worst—Jesse or Blaine?
“You okay, girl?” asked Race.
She hadn’t spoken a word in an hour. Could she be civil to this man who had ruined her life so completely? Why did she let him rule her the way he did? There was only one answer. She loved Race Ogilvie no matter how vile his acts, no matter what he did to her family or to her, she was in so deep there was no way out. “I’m okay. Sit on this bench until I get my truck.”
“I’ll walk with you.”
“Okay, if you’re sure.”
Once they were in the Ram and on the way out of Austin, Race lowered his window and lit up a smoke. “I memorized the rules and I won’t break any, girl. I swear it.”
BLAINE sat on one of the high stools at the granite island in the kitchen waiting for Annie to get home. They had to have it out before he could have any peace. He’d checked online and found out that Race had been released with a guarantee that he would show up in California for his hearing. As soon as that fact was confirmed, he’d packed a bag and tossed it into his truck.
“What time is Daddy coming, Blaine?” asked Jackson. He was managing well with the pint-sized crutches.
“Soon, buddy. He should be here soon with Mommy.”
“I missed him,” said Jackson. “Did you?”
“Uh huh, a little bit.”
“It’s okay, Blaine,” said the little guy, “I know you don’t like Daddy too much and neither does Jesse. Daddy told me that’s okay because everybody has special friends and you don’t have to like everybody in the whole world.”
“That’s true.”
“Can you get me a juice box, Blaine?”
“Sure, buddy, sit down at the table.” Blaine walked around the island and opened the Sub-Zero. “Here you go. Peach Mango okay?”
“Yep, I love that kind.”
Blaine caught movement out the corner of his eye as the truck pulled through the gate. “Mommy’s here, buddy.”
“Yahoo,” hollered Jacks.
Blaine ventured outside, hugged Annie as she got out of the truck and helped her with her one bag.
“Thanks,” she said, her voice icy cold.
She’s madder at me than she’s ever been.
Blaine shivered as he carried the bag down the hall and placed it in Annie’s closet.
“Where’s Jesse?” she asked.<
br />
“Jesse left, Annie. He went home.”
“This is his home.”
Blaine stared at her, then at the smirk on Race’s face as he stood towering beside her.
“Blaine, we need to have a talk.” She pointed down the hall. “In private.”
“Sure, I’m ready for the riot act.” He followed her into the office and closed the door behind him. “Lay it down.”
“That was a mean trick with the warrant. Beneath you.”
“Mom, it wasn’t a trick, and nothing is beneath me when it comes to ridding our lives of Race Ogilvie.”
“I trusted you.”
“And I kept your trust. I did what was best for you and Jesse—you just don’t see it that way. But you will, someday.”
“Well, I don’t see it today, that’s for damn sure.”
“You and Race work it out. My stuff is in my truck and I’m giving you some space. Call if you need me.”
Annie’s eyes welled up and overflowed. “I never thought it would come to this. I love you so much. I can’t bear it if you leave me.”
“Choices, Mom. We all have hard choices.”
I sincerely hope you enjoyed, Double Down, book one in the Blackmore Agency Series. If you’d like to read a preview of Splitting Aces, book two in the series, I’ve included pages for you.
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Author Notes from Carolina:
Throughout my life, I’d always written, but after I retired and went to live with my daughter, J.L. Madore, an amazing writer in her own right, I put my head down and I wrote and wrote and haven’t stopped. I only write for one reason—for my readers.
A special thank you to the fans who take the time to reach out and share their ideas, support, and opinions. You know who you are, Holly, Lynn, Dorothy, Shelley, Diane, Wendy, Shirley and Freda, Dawn, Alice, Billy and Melinda, Jim and Gayle, Ava, Terry and Celestia to name a few. If I missed you here, message me and it won’t happen again.
To access my author page on Amazon and see all my books out so far, click here.
Carolina Mac is the author of forty books in four different series. The Regulators biker series, The Quantrall PI series, The Paradise Park series and The Blackmore Agency series. Carolina lives with her family in Ontario, Canada.
CHAPTER ONE
Friday, December 3rd.
HEAD BOWED, eyes should have been closed, but they weren’t. Instead, the black eyes were riveted to the grass beneath his feet, but out of the corner of his right one, peripheral vision did him in. His head jerked to the side like a puppet gone postal and his stomach heaved his morning coffee into his throat. He swallowed quickly, balled up his fists and willed himself not to heave.
Fabiana’s coffin sank into the cold, hard December ground as her mother sobbed and the priest from Cristo Rey held up his hand and incanted the words.
Blaine turned and bolted towards the gate. Ashes to ashes rang through his brain as he beat it out of the graveyard and jogged the two blocks to his truck.
Abandoning his whole crew at the gravesite like some immature wussy didn’t sit well with him, but today he didn’t care. He couldn’t deal. They’d understand. Maybe.
He slid behind the wheel of his huge black Ram and took a couple of deep breaths. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a pack of Marlboroughs’ and lit up a smoke. The sound of big drops splatting against the windshield caught his attention and made him realize he was soaking wet. The tailored black Canali suit clung to his shivering body as he turned the key and waited for the green light to come on.
It didn’t ease his mind one iota knowing the coffin was empty.
RACE HELD a black umbrella over Annie’s head as the two of them stood apart from the crowd of mourners clustered near the grave. She’d chosen him and Jackson, the small boy they had together, over her husband and her adopted son. For that he was grateful and would do everything in his power to prove himself.
The road had been long and hard for him since his release from Huntsville. The only woman he’d ever wanted and ever loved, was Annie. And now he had Jackson—a six-year old boy he never knew existed. The methods he used to get his family back may have been violent and unorthodox, but the end goal had always been the same. He had to have Annie no matter what the cost.
But the cost was high where Blaine was concerned. Once the kid moved out, Annie carried her pain openly, like a wound that would never heal. Melancholy surrounded her like an aura as gray as her eyes. She hadn’t laughed in months. He’d almost destroyed the only woman he’d ever cared about. Could the damage be undone?
JESSE STOOD NEXT to Blaine, the senseless forfeit of Fabiana’s life pressing down on the Blackmore team like a dark shroud with the weight of chain mail.
After the prayer, Jesse lifted his eyes and watched Annie on the far side of the crowd. Still his wife for another week. Would the pain end for him when the decree was final? He doubted it. What was a piece of paper? She’d made her choice and the man she’d chosen wasn’t him. The stress of their relationship had almost killed him. His heart was weak. He had to stand down or die.
Dressed all in black, a large hat hiding most of her gorgeous face, she stared at Blaine. Jesse visualized the tears on her face. He couldn’t see them from where he stood, but they would be there—for Fabiana—for Blaine—maybe even one tear for him.
She wants to comfort Blaine, but she can’t. Not the way things are between them right now.
Jesse clutched at his chest, the pain growing stronger with the stress of the day.
His brother, Tyler, noticed and took his elbow. “Let’s get you home, bro. You’re wet and tired and so am I.”
“I should go to the Flores’ house—be there for Blacky.”
Farrell stepped up to the plate. “Me and Trav will go cover you off, boss. You go on home and get some rest.”
Enright nodded and didn’t say a word. Tears streamed down his face.
BLAINE STEERED the Ram diesel through one of the oldest neighborhoods in Austin. Although the wipers worked furiously to slap away the downpour, between the water on the windshield and the tears in his eyes, he almost missed the driveway of the dated Victorian he’d already spent a small fortune on.
The newly bricked drive was smoother now as he drove past the house where Fabiana had grown up. He parked behind, close to the carriage house to leave room for guests who would soon arrive. His early exit from the cemetery had put him ahead of the others and he was well ahead of the funeral car that would bring Mrs. Flores home.
After his return from Columbia and his failed mission to find Fabiana alive, Blaine had spent time with Mrs. Flores, and had finally excepted her plea to move into one of the empty bedrooms so she wouldn’t be so alone. The woman had no one without her daughter.
During the six months he’d lived there, his Spanish had improved remarkably. It had always grated on him that he was half Latino and yet couldn’t speak Spanish. Had his parents wanted it that way? They had died in an accident when he was in his early teens and he would never find out what they wanted for him.
Blaine inserted his key into the upgraded lock on the original carved mahogany door. He’d tried to retain any and all elements of the house that were salvageable. Renovations were still underway on the interior. On his first visit, the condition of the old place had been shocking—leaking roof, broken front steps, and numerous not-so-visible problems like bad wiring and plugged drains, but there was little Mrs. Flores could do on her own. Having no income other than a small monthly payment from her dead husband’s military service, she had nothing left after day to day expenses for repairs.
He paused i
n the wide foyer to admire the new marble floor. A step up from the worn linoleum the marble had replaced. He flicked on the chandelier and risked a glance in the hall mirror. His long ebony hair almost touched his shoulders. Maybe he should get it cut, but what for? He had no one to impress. Dark smudges under his eyes told the story. He was miserable and looked like hell—had he slept since he left Annie? He didn’t think so. They’d been so close, he had never imagined being separated from her.
Maybe it was time to grow up.
He shook his head, strode down the hall, chains clanking on his Harley boots, and took a right turn into the kitchen. A huge room, but out of touch with reality when he arrived. After weeks of coaxing and hours of browsing through brochures, Mrs. Flores had given in to the idea of an updated kitchen. The room had been gutted and the new fixtures, cherry cabinets, granite counter tops and stainless-steel appliances had been installed. Now the kitchen was a source of pride for her. It brought her happiness to cook and bake and without Fabiana, she had precious little happiness left in her life.
Blaine started a pot of coffee and placed the trays of cookies and tarts Mrs. Flores had baked on the dining room table, like they’d discussed that morning. She’d covered the table with a white cloth and set out her best china, silver, and crystal.
She wanted him to call her ‘Carm’, short for Carmelita, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. At least, not yet. They weren’t family. He had a mother. Even thinking about Annie and their separation made him short of breath. He had to do something.
JESSE AND TYLER arrived home at Quantrall, the seventy-five hundred acre spread they owned and operated with their younger brother, Paul. Their father, Lou Quantrall had established a successful horse business and Quantrall Appaloosas were known all over Texas. The oil side of the Quantrall fortune had slowed slightly, but prudent investments kept them in boots and beer.
