Absolute Valor (Southern Justice #3)

by Cayce Poponea

  “Diesel, cause I can make water flammable.” I’d never planned on telling anyone about this part of my life. The things I’ve seen and done were not conversation topics in mixed company.

  “Anyway, Ramsay managed to talk his way into going with us, with Tombstone telling him if he fucked it up, he wouldn’t get a second chance. We circled the line where the reports of the gunfire had come from. Movement near a cluster of rocks seized our attention, so we split up in an attempt to surround the shooter. Ramsay made the decision to ignore what he was told and spooked the guy, who opened fire on us. Tombstone was wounded, badly enough he was discharged from the military and the sniper got away. Tombstone told me, as he was being lifted into the back of an ambulance uncertain if he would ever walk again, to never put yourself in a position where you have to beg for forgiveness.”

  “I take it this Ramsey fellow was begging for forgiveness for what happened to your friend?”

  “He was begging, but not for forgiveness from Tombstone. When we got him back to camp, Doc rushed him into surgery. Ramsay begged me not to tell the review board what had happened. He wanted to be a SEAL, and if you aren’t in the military, there’s no chance in hell for you to become one.”

  Dad shook his head, glancing to the clock on the microwave, three-fifteen. “How does this relate back to Audrey, exactly?”

  Those hazel eyes of hers were like almond shaped tractor beams, pulling me in by my short hairs. “Listen, I know you may think I’m crazy, and maybe I am, but I never want to be in a position where I have to see any doubt on her face, especially when it comes to me.” I shifted my body to align with his and leaned over the counter, my forearms connecting with the cold granite.

  “Son, no matter how hard you try, every woman is going to look at you with doubt. Whether it’s something you say or do, she is going to have doubt about you.”

  “I’m saying this wrong and I’m worried I did the same thing while talking with her this evening.” I looked into his wise eyes, the same ones I’ve trusted since I was little. “I ended a relationship today. One I had convinced myself was real. It wasn’t and I know this. But Audrey,” I paused, collecting my thoughts and courage. “She’s different, more than a beautiful face and a tight ass.” I’m assuming her ass is tight, her frame is slender and she covers herself in layers, but in my mind, and morning jack off sessions, it’s tight. “Maybe I’m going from the frying pan into the fire, but something tells me Audrey is the one I’m supposed to be with.”

  Dad tapped his index finger three times on the granite, watching his fingers before sharing the wisdom I counted on him for. “You say you have plans for her. What kind of plans?”

  “The kind that ends with a white dress and the family minister.”

  “Listen, Chase, your momma and I adore Audrey, love her to death. I won’t try and discourage you from pursuing her.” I could feel a but coming on, there was always a but in these types of conversations. “But your momma has a feeling there is a missing piece of the puzzle, something she’s keeping a secret. Until we either know what the secret is or she proves herself, I want you to be careful.” Agreeing with him and the feeling momma had, most likely they were the same gut twinges I had.

  “I will, and I’ve made a few other decisions. I’m moving out of the condo and back in here with you guys, until the house I’m building is finished. It’s time I grew some roots, built a firm foundation around here.”

  Daddy tried hard to hide his smile, the one he would share when momma woke up and made him his first pot of coffee. “All right, Chase, I think we’ve covered everything. I won’t share it all with your momma, some things need to be kept between us men.”

  Standing from my chair, I slid my right arm around his shoulder. “Thanks, I appreciate it.” We bid each other goodnight and pushed the chairs back into place. Heaven forbid we messed up momma’s perfect kitchen.

  “Oh, hey, one more thing.” He turned slowly from his position in the doorway, the fatigue deepening the lines around his face. “Who do we know down at Charleston Power?”

  Reaching up to rub his hand over his chin, a shy smile broke out on his face. “Now you’re acting like a man, and thinkin’ like a Morgan.”

  As I climbed the steps after storing the name and number of the company in my phone, I was hit with memories of growing up in this house, full of love and laughter. The dent in the wood of the banister, a reminder of the time Austin snuck in past curfew. At the top of the landing, I recalled sneaking out of my bed, watching my daddy spin momma around to kiss him, and the laughter he caused to bubble out of her. Hugging my brothers goodbye as I left for boot camp.

  As I passed the room Momma chose to place Audrey in, a more appropriate room in her opinion, I placed my palm against the wood and leaned my ear to the crack of the door, listening for even the slightest noise, hearing none.

  That night as I stood under the beads of the water, I once again indulged in a daily dose of self-love, this time, Audrey wasn’t on her knees, but pressed against the tiles, calling my name as she met her own release. Just like the nostalgia I had in the hall, I wanted to build a life full of memories, one that included the real life version of my shower fantasy.

  The wings of angels are often found on the backs of the least likely people.

  —Eric Honeycutt

  “We’re spending the night in Florida, so I brought you several pairs of jeans. Dylan wants everyone in an Absolute Power shirt, so I have several of those too.” She set a small stack of the red and black t-shirts beside the jeans and moved around the room in utter confidence—something I lacked when it came to being here. Lainie had arrived before seven this morning, her hair pulled back in a braid, with the ends tucked under to keep it from tangling in the wind. “Austin is handling the hotel reservations, approved by Momma Morgan of course. And everyone else is downstairs getting caffeinated up and ready to leave.” I followed her lead and pulled my hair back into a knot at the back of my head, securing it with the only four hairpins I owned. Unfolding the jeans she had laid on the bed, I held them up to see for myself the first piece of denim I’d had against my skin in years.

  “As soon as you get your stuff together, head down stairs so we can go.” Looking at me over her shoulder with her eyes that danced, she exited the room with an exaggerated wink. After she closed the door, I fished through the bottom of my tiny coin purse, feeling the chain lying among the lint and dust balls.

  It had been safely tucked in the empty purse since the day Lucas decided he needed to pawn anything of value we had to get new rims for his truck. He’d even snatched the class ring I had right off my finger, never to be seen again. I got over the ring, as I did the money he took on a regular basis. But there was something special to me about the angel wings dangling from the silver chain in my hand. Today, I would take back my life, starting with a set of wings.

  Packing took seconds, as I rolled my nightgown into the side pocket of my backpack. Before going downstairs, I tugged and smoothed out any wrinkles I could see on the magazine worthy bed I’d slept on last night, refusing to leave any trace of my presence in the room.

  Priscilla stood in the center of the kitchen, her hair hidden behind a bright orange bandanna, diamond earrings dangled from her earlobes erasing any edge she created to her look with the jeans and black t-shirt she wore.

  “Well, good mornin’, Darlin. How did you sleep?” She placed the coffee carafe she’d used to fill her cup, back on the island.

  “Very well, thank you. I didn’t get a chance to apologize for the intrusion, I could have stayed at the shop last night.”

  Setting the cup down gently, she dropped her hands to the polished marble of the countertop. “You most certainly would not have stayed in a broom closet like a box of discarded decorations!” Raising her hand, she pointed her thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the garage. “Chase was quicker with the offer than I was last night, that’s all.”

  A portly woman dressed in a gra
y uniform, with short curly hair skirting along the top of her collar, walked into the kitchen. “Oh, my word, where are my manners. Isadora, this is Audrey Helms, she’s going to be staying in the guest room for a spell. Audrey, this is our housekeeper, and resident general, Isadora Lafontaine.”

  Both women laughed with a mutual understanding of the joke regarding her role in the house. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you.” Isadora rounded the island; her arms open wide letting me know a handshake wasn’t on the menu. Her accent was thick, but not southern, it sounded French with a little low country to it. “Chase has already been to town and back for your boots and such,” she laughed as she pulled away. “Ain’t seen that boy this excited ‘bout a girl since Becky Sue Crawley, and she was only here to build a science project.” She let me go, a chuckle in her words. Clasping her soft, warm hands around my cheeks, her eyes pierced mine, searching their depths for something, good, bad, or indifferent—I wasn’t sure.

  She reminded me of Celine, the woman who ran the corner store down the street from my house. Originally from Louisiana, she always had something cooking in her store. The aromas would bring the locals running to get a bite of Miss Cece’s cooking. I never had any money to spend, but that didn’t stop her from making sure I had a bowl of whatever she was cooking at the time.

  “Miss Audrey, what a beautiful necklace you have on.” Lifting the pendant from my chest, she called over her shoulder at Priscilla and moved slightly to the side. “Don’t you think so, Cilla?”

  The two women stand before me and suddenly I feel like one of the monkeys at the zoo. “Would you look at that?” Tone is everything in a conversation; it can change the way a person reacts to what is being said. Priscilla’s tone is questioning, with an edge of disbelief. I’m choosing not to follow the breadcrumbs, refusing to fall down the rabbit hole of endless questions. “Don’t recall ever seeing this one on ya, is it new?”

  I’ll give it to her, Priscilla is observant, which is a good trait to have, but I’m a master at avoidance. “Not new, just not worn often. I thought it would be nice considering the theme of the day.” Shifting my eyes back to the bandana on her head. “You are as well, I see. You’ve got your hot biker Momma thing, going on.”

  From the smile on her face and the wiggle in her hip, I find most people are vain enough to take a compliment and forget everything else. Priscilla Morgan is no exception to the rule. Removing myself from the room was the best policy. As the two ladies discuss how their hips were when they were girls and how the fat comes out of just looking at food, I silently slip out the back.

  The garage is massive, not that I expected anything else. The three bay doors are open, letting the chill of the early Charleston morning breeze in. I’m not a car person, never have been and have I no clue what the brands of shiny black, male versions of wet dreams are sitting inside. But I do have an understanding of trucks, one I’ve earned from heated arguments between Lucas and his friends. All he talks about is how he has wanted a Ford Shelby Edition. With less than five hundred made, and a price tag nearly triple of a normal truck, talking is all he’s been able to do.

  Chase stood beside the lowered tailgate, his tight jeans doing more for my heart than an entire pot of extra strong coffee could ever manage. A ball cap covered his hair with the bill facing backward and muscles straining as he moved several boxes to the edge of the tailgate.

  “Wow, Audrey, you have killer legs.” Claire announced, causing me to jump at both the level of her voice, and the act of being caught.

  Chase looked over his shoulder, scanning my body up and down. His blue eyes took on the hue from last night, predatory and hungry.

  “You’re as purty as a speckled pup under a red wagon.” Dylan adds as he nudges Chase in the arm.

  Chase pushed away from the truck, his forearms on full display in his sleeveless shirt, the armholes extending to his ribs. As he turned around, the Marine logo, faded from too many washings, rippled in the breeze.

  “Legs like that will make a man do crazy, voodoo things,” Austin joined in, while Lainie tossed him a look in warning. “I wasn’t gonna be mean, Darlin’. I love you to death and back, but you’re on your own for boots at five in the bleeding mornin’”

  I knew this was a bad idea, Chase has already been through too much for me. When I’d left the hollow of my hiding spot last night, I waited for a good hour to see if I could catch a glimpse of him going down the hall, but he never appeared. To look at him though, you’d never be able to tell he was running on fumes.

  “Ya’ll hush,” Chase reprimanded, his brow bending with his aggravation. “Don’t listen to them, Audrey. They’re just jealous I’m not as nice to them.” Motioning me toward him and the massive truck. “Then again, they ain’t as beautiful as you are either, Sweetness.”

  Charm flowed from the Morgan men in abundance. Compliments came as quickly for the women in their lives as curse words did for the men around them. Chase, by comparison, was the most flirtatious, his nature to bring a smile to a lady’s face increased the older the woman was. How wonderful would it be if his pet name for me was genuine and not a product of his personality.

  “I had to guess at your size since I couldn’t locate another pair of shoes back at the shop, so I grabbed several sizes.” Lined up just inside the bed of the truck, were five different boxes of boots, the covers off and the sweet smell of leather permeating from the cardboard. “Pick whichever one you want, don’t be shy.” I couldn’t remember this many boxes of boots being in the shop. As I was about to ask where they came from, I noticed a row of white tents had been erected down the long drive. Merchants were selling various riding items, alongside a man who was collecting money and giving a black ribbon in return. Several rows of parked motorcycles were already waiting in line to start the run. Chase hadn’t run back into town as the housekeeper suspected, he’d walked across the cement drive and asked to see a few pair.

  A pair of lace ups caught my attention. Solid black with a low heel and matching laces. While they were far from feminine, I loved the practicality of them. Pulling the left one out of the box, the soft leather felt foreign between my fingers. I hadn’t seen real leather anything in such a long time. It hadn’t changed much, still smelled like heaven and lasted forever. A deep voice called out for Chase, referring to him as Sergeant or something. Chase walked over to the man wearing a vest, gray hair down his back in a long braid. The men shook hands and began talking about tours of duty.

  Giving me shelter for the night was one thing, but buying expensive leather boots was another. Picking up the box, I sidestepped the men and their conversation and headed in the direction of the vendor with the jackets and boots. As I stepped into the shade his cover offered, another couple were looking at the rack of vests. The woman commenting on how she couldn’t decide on which color she liked best. A tall man standing off to the side noticed me looking around, “Let me know if I can show you anything, Ma’am.”

  Assuming he was the owner, I walked in his direction. “Hello, can you tell me how much these boots are?”

  The grey haired man with the long beard to match, took a long look at the boots in my hand. “I’m sorry, Ma’am, but I don’t sell this particular brand of boots,” shaking his head as his eyes came back to meet mine. “My customers tend to be more of the back yard riders, not the doctor or lawyer variety.” He added sincerely.

  Out of nowhere, the woman who couldn’t make up her mind slapped her hand over the box in my hand. “Where did you find these?” Her eyes, the size of saucers; her tiny frame vibrating like a cell phone on a counter. Without waiting for an answer, she turned to the man with the beard, “I’ll give you twice what she’s offering.” Clearly she has more money than brains and I’m about to put as much distance between us as possible. Taking a single step back, a hand lands on my shoulder, stopping me short and sending a chill up my spine. Daring a look over my shoulder, I find Priscilla’s smiling face at the end of the arm.

  “
Priscilla Morgan, I was coming to see you.” The crazy, excited lady spoke up from my left, the boots momentarily forgotten. “I was telling Craven there are so many good deals around here today. How will I ever choose just one?”

  Priscilla stepped between me and Mr. Gray beard. “Emmagene, Craven, so glad to see you both. I see you’ve found our Audrey. My son, Chase, you recall him, the one who was serving in the Marines?” Her voice changed from the confident and secure southern woman, to the ‘bless your heart’ version I’d heard her speak to only one other person, the one who tried to fool her middle child. “Anyway… he’s safe at home and has a growing business, and this gorgeous creature is his girlfriend.” I tried not to look like a gasping fish at her diversion tactics, the mark of a true lady and I didn’t want to mess up her smoke screen. Placing her arm around me with one hand, she slid the box out of my grasp with the other. “Chase had me grab these the last time I was in New York, visiting my middle son. You recall him? The computer genius. Well, he’s back home too. Got his own company and a young lady at his side.” She tosses her hair, admiring her family over her shoulder. “Well, let’s just say Dean and I will have a collection of beautiful grandbabies in no time.”

  Emmagene tried to look with appreciation, yet from my angle, it looked more like she had some painful gas. “Oh, Priscilla, you cannot convince me your boys are old enough to be in serious relationships, much less having babies of their own.” Okay, I had to give it to Emmagene. While her name was unfortunate—something I would have imagined died with the plague—I had to high five her for the comeback.