“Oh. my God, Walker,” Wavy gasps, sitting in my lap. “That’s horrible.”
“The men were caught,” I say. By my father’s men. Gutted and left for dead. The fight became about more than power then. It became a game of revenge.
Now my father is dead, and I’m gone, and Maker is all that’s left.
A man without a heart, without a soul.
The only family I have.
“Life was hard after she was gone. My mother made sense of the world. She saw things in black and white while my dad lived in the gray and it was hard to see things clearly when everything seems covered in shadows.”
Waverly’s hand wraps around mine, and she leans her back against my chest, both of us looking up toward the sky.
“I’m so sorry, Walker.”
“You would have loved her,” I tell Wavy.
“I can’t say the same about my own mother,” she whispers. “She had hard edges. Like your dad.”
“And what about your father?”
“I never knew him.” She turns her head looking up at me. “Where is your brother now?”
Now is my chance if I want to take it, but before I can decide if I have the guts or not, a seaplane flies overhead, distracting us.
“That’s Jameson,” I tell her. “Headed back to Whiskey Mountain.
“Is he a good man?” she asks. “Someone you trust?”
“He means well. But he’s not like me.”
“What does that mean?” she asks as I turn on the motor and direct us back home. Jameson promised to bring me back some liquor.
“It means he isn’t cut from the same cloth. Sure, he and I both grew up with money, but he…” I almost say never killed a man… but instead, I clear my throat, recover. “He still has a family to go home to.”
“So, I take it you and your brother aren’t close?” she asks finding her way back to the question she’d asked earlier.
“No, we’re not. I found a way to go back to the way my mom raised me, in the black and white. But he… he followed my father.”
“And sometimes we have to draw lines in the sand.”
I nod. Eyes on the woman I love. “I have things I need to tell you, Waverly.”
“I know,” she says, softly. “In time you will.”
“Why are you so good to me?”
She smiles then, a smile that could decimate any storm. She is sunshine personified and somehow, she is mine.
“Because I love you, Jeremy Walker.”
“And I love you, Waverly Jones.”
“Now let's go back home, so I can get cleaned up.”
“What for?”
“I’m making you and Jameson dinner.”
I lift my eyebrows, the boat headed toward the dock. “Is that so?”
She nods. “You said I can stay as long as I like, right?”
“You can stay forever, Waverly.”
She covers her smile with her hand, cheeks pink. She loves it when I tell her this is her home. “In that case, I need to make a good impression on the neighbor. Right now, he thinks I am a member of Father John’s cult.”
“We’ll clear that up.” I moor the boat and take her hand. “You said you needed to get cleaned up?”
She nods. “I’m all sweaty. And my hair could use a wash.”
“Need help with that?”
Her eyes sparkly blue as the lake. “I could always use help with that.”
* * *
Later, with her back against the tiled shower, her tits glistening with beads of water and my cock pounding her sweet little cunt, I silently beg for her forgiveness.
Because I may say I am all black and all white — but right now, my sins feel red as blood, run as deep too.
She says she loves me.
But she hardly knows who I am.
She thinks I am her lover.
But I know when she finds out the truth, I will be nothing more than a memory.
18
Waverly
When Jameson arrives, I have dinner rolls fresh from the oven, roasted venison, and well-seasoned carrots, potatoes, and onions. I have set the table, tidied the kitchen, and am washing my hands, listening to the men greet one another.
I’ve met Jameson before, but that was under very different circumstances. Then, I was headed to a free-love commune. Now, I am a guest of Walker. I can picture myself in the Whiskey Mountains, imagine a life here with Walker, his thick beard and dark eyes. I want to believe that sort of ending could be mine. Cold winters bundled up together in front of a blazing fire. Hot summer days where we fish for salmon, grill on the Fourth of July. A child or two or four. I can see it all so clearly.
And maybe that is crazy… but what part about falling in love with a stranger isn’t insanity?
The smile on my face is wide as I turn toward the men. But it only takes a moment to realize something is off with them. They are speaking in low, tense voices, shaking their heads, arguing. What about, I don’t know.
“Dinner is ready,” I say. “You guys hungry?”
Jameson grunts a hello to me, and Walker moves to a cupboard grabbing a few glasses, the bottle of whiskey Jameson brought him in hand. His eyes are lowered, not meeting mine and I know something is wrong. He fills two glasses and hands one to Jameson. They lift their glasses and take swigs.
Laughing nervously, I join them at the table. “Anyone want to fill me in on what’s happening here?”
Jameson and Walker share a look. A look that says whatever they are planning on telling me is going to be a half-truth, a lie. I pick up my fork, not wanting to fight. Needing to choose my words carefully.
“Good seeing you here, Waverly. Glad you left that shit show,” Jameson says, taking a bite of food. “Damn, this is good. Would give my mother a run for her money and she’s been cooking suppers with venison for thirty-odd years. Where’d you learn to cook?”
“When I was younger, there was this woman in the apartment complex where I lived. She was always letting me sit on her kitchen counters, stir the biscuit batter, crack eggs. She taught me to cook.”
“Well, she did right by you,” Walker says. “It’s really good, Wavy.”
Jameson grins and I can see he is handsome. I hadn’t noticed before. When I was in his plane, I was mostly focused on getting from point A to point B. But now I can see how some people would find him attractive. My sister Jemma certainly would have. She always had a thing for men with light hair and light eyes. Maybe she saw them as the light to her dark. Same way as I am for Walker. I am the sun and he is the moon.
The guys don’t say any more about their heated conversation, and I don’t press. It’s not that I am timid or shy — more like I know when to hold my tongue and when to listen and watch.
By the time we’ve finished eating, they’ve drained half the bottle and seem more relaxed. I’m exhausted though. Maybe it was the hours I spent cooking or being out on the lake — but I am willing to bet it is so many nights where Walker and I have spent hours rolling around, taking care of one another.
I let out a yawn and Walker gives me a smile, runs a hand over my back. “You ready for bed?”
I nod. “I’m beat. You guys stay up. Looks like you have half a bottle to finish.”
“You don’t mind?” Walker asks.
I laugh softly. “Not at all. I like seeing this side of you.”
“And what side is that?”
Jameson groans. “I don’t want to hear where this line of thinking goes. Please, spare me the details.”
I laugh, getting up from the table. “Are you lonely up here, Jameson? Ready to find a girl of your own and settle down.?”
Jameson lifts an eyebrow. “So, you two are the real deal huh? A week together and you're all in?”
Walker grunts. “Nothing official yet,” he says, wrapping an arm around my waist. “But in time, I swear on my mother’s grave, I’ll get a ring on this girl’s finger.”
My heart pounds with pleasure. The words are so
intoxicating it makes my knees a little weak. Walker loves me and chooses me.
I lean down and give him a kiss. “Don’t get too crazy down here, boys. I need my beauty sleep.”
They chuckle and I head to the bathroom to wash up before heading to the loft. Once up the ladder, I pull on one of Walker’s tee-shirts and slip into bed. I close my eyes thinking of Walker and the way I feel when I am with him. Safe and protected and like nothing in the world can get between us. Being honest with him about everything, brought down a wall between us and ever since then, it’s like there is nothing that can keep us apart.
I fall asleep nestled against his pillow, dreaming of the day he drops to one knee and makes me his, forever.
* * *
I wake to shouting. The blue dawn reaches me through the windows. My heart pounds. Walker is yelling and I panic, scrambling from the mattress to look over the railing.
Below me, I see the man I love, and two other men, dressed in black with guns raised. One large, one slim.
I cover my mouth, terrified.
These men are here because of me.
Maker’s men — the men who were on the yacht with Maker the night my sister died.
“You’re the last fucking person I thought I’d see today,” the larger man says, looking at Walker with vengeance. “You know all the trouble you’ve caused, leaving like a goddamn coward?”
Walker growls, “I’m not a coward, I made a choice.”
“That’s what you call harboring a known enemy?”
“Leave her out of this,” Walker seethes
“So, she’s here then?” the slim man asks. “Makes our job easy.”
“You can’t have her.”
“No?” The large man snorts. “And why is that Jeremy Walker? You suddenly have a conscious?”
My blood goes cold, my pounding heart freezes. My eyes go wide. I bend over, holding my stomach feeling sick.
How does my Walker know these men?
19
Walker
Seeing Tiny and Beam here in my cabin with guns raised has me on edge like nothing ever has before. Like hell will they get to Waverly.
I refuse to look up, to catch her eye, because if I do, my brother’s hitmen will see. Will know where she is. I vowed to protect her, and I will.
“Don’t fuck with me,” I growl, grabbing Tiny and slamming him to the ground, blood splatters as his jaw connects with the hardwood.
“We need the girl,” Beam shouts. “She took Maker’s stash and he needs to pay up. The cartel is after him.”
“Not my problem,” I grunt, using Tiny as a shield so Beam can’t take a shot.
Beam stomps over, shouting for me to stop. His gun is waving back and forth as he tries to get an opening. He may be a big guy, but he is softie. He loves Tiny, always had. No way will he risk shooting him.
But I know what they are capable of. What they will do to Waverly.
I’ve seen it plenty of times before. Hell, they did it with her sister Jemma. Threw her overboard, without a second look.
Like hell will they do the same thing to the woman I love.
“Your brother wants her back, Walker,” Beam grunts, moving closer, his eyes beady with a threat I know all too well. He will do what he must to finish the job my brother sent him on.
Using Tiny’s gun, I take a shot. Knowing this decision will change things. Forever. With Waverly sure, but with my family too.
Still, right now, I need to protect the woman I love, and Tiny and Beam are the two things coming between her and her safety.
I shoot.
Beam takes the hit, falls back. My chest tightens knowing that there is no reversing what I’ve just done. Above me, Waverly gasps and I want to look up, tell her it’s all going to be okay — but is it? I don’t know. Not yet. Right now, I must deal with Tiny.
We struggle, he kicks up, trying to wrestle me to the ground. He manages to grab Beam’s gun
and shoots at me, but I manage to knock the gun aside before he can fire.
I shove him against the wall, my forearm under his jaw. “Wish it didn’t have to end like this.”
But it does. We both know it. You don’t work for a drug lord and think you’ll end your life with a clean death.
No.
It was always going to be like this for Tiny. The same goes for Beam.
But by God, it won’t be like this for me. We wrestle for the gun, and Tiny’s finger tightens on the trigger… but the bullet doesn’t land where he hopes. In the struggle, the gun points to him, and when it strikes -- it takes Tiny’s life.
I want to cry. I do. What does that say about me? I know what my brother would think.
But I don’t care.
Right now, I only care what Waverly thinks about me.
I’m scared to look in her eyes.
But I must. Because all I can do right now is get her out of here.
“We need to go,” I tell her, dropping Beam, watching as the big bastard falls to the floor. Walking to the center of the cabin, I look up to the loft. Waverly is standing there, white-faced filled with pure terror.
I did this to her.
And now I must fix it.
“We need to leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you… whoever you are.”
She heard Beam’s words. Knows who my brother is. The same man who killed her sister.
I want to wrap her in my arms, tell her I’m sorry for what she just saw, what she just heard. I want to wipe the memories from her eyes, but it isn’t possible. There isn’t time.
“Listen to me Waverly, we need to get those drugs back to where they belong otherwise,… Otherwise, people will keep tracking you down. Until they find you. Do you understand?”
“I don’t even know who you are…” She trembles and I understand. I did this to her.
“I am Jeremy Walker, the man you love. The man who loves you. Now come on. We have to go.”
She shakes her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. “You killed those men,” she manages to say, gasping for the words. “But that isn’t the worst of it. Your brother…” She shakes her head, horrified, covering her mouth. But we don’t have time to fall apart right now. We have to go.
“They would have killed us both.” I grab my wallet, pull on my boots and a coat. A hat. “Get dressed. We need to go.”
She trembles but walks back into the loft. I pick up my radio and call Jameson. “I know it’s gonna look bad when you get here. But I will explain later. There are two bodies in my cabin, and I need you to deal with them.”
“Bodies?”
“Maker’s men came for us. I’m taking Wavy and we’re gonna deal with this.”
“I’m sorry,” he says. “Sorry for what I said.”
“Then make it right.”
I drop the radio, thinking about what Jameson told me last night when he came for dinner. That he’d seen Tiny and Beam and that he mentioned a buddy named Walker in Whiskey Mountain. They got real interested after that. Jameson confessed that he told them about this pretty girl named Wavy living with me.
He didn’t realize until later, that he may have said too much.
Now he can clean up this fucking mess.
I know he will. Jameson may be over his head with these drug runs, but this will teach him a lesson he needs to learn: to stay the fuck away from them.
I push open the cabin door, grateful that the whiskey I drank last night is out of my system. Jameson didn’t stay long after Wavy went to bed, we didn’t come close to finishing the bottle. But I must have dozed off at some point because I didn’t even hear their plane land. Tiny and I learned to fly at the same time. Running for my father for years. And now I’ve killed him. Pain wretches at my heart. I feel like a monster, a murderer. Even though logically, I know I was saving both Wavy’s life and mine.
Now, though, it doesn’t feel that way. Now it feels like I will never fucking change. I may have moved to the wilderness, but I feel like I can�
��t outrun the man I tried to leave behind.
“We need to go,” I tell her, and moments later she is coming down the ladder. Following me as I leave the cabin and lock the door. “Look at me, Waverly. Let me explain.”
But she shakes her head, shoulders shaking. She walks to the dock, not meeting my eyes, and climbs into my plane.
She is following my orders. Not because she wants to. But because she has no other choice. It kills me to see her like this, pulling away from me.
Love brought us together but right now, it seems like our pasts are intent on keeping us apart.
20
Waverly
I sleep during the entire plane ride to Anchorage. There we transfer to a commercial flight that takes us to Seattle. I know we have a long haul ahead of us, but right now I don’t care. I don’t want to be here with a killer. Even if it’s a killer I love.
Staying with Father John would have been better than this. He was drugged out on mushrooms, or maybe coke, but he wasn’t s lying about who he was.
Who is Walker?
This man that I gave my heart, mind, and soul to? This man I trusted? This man with a past much darker than mine.
Walker’s brother killed my sister… and he knew it the entire time.
“We’re staying here tonight,” he tells me. “At a hotel. I chartered a plane, but it doesn’t leave until tomorrow.”
We’ve landed in Seattle, but I feel numb. Empty. Alone.
I trusted him. I blink away tears.
“Come on, I got a car waiting.”
I don’t understand how this wild, untamed man from the Whiskey Mountains is also this person — this person with money and connections. He made me believe he was from a simple Italian family but really… really, he is connected to one of the biggest drug rings in North America. Connected to the man who killed my sister.
WALKER: The men of Whiskey Mountain Page 9
