by Dana Marton
“You haven’t done anything.” Absolution came quickly and without hesitation.
Her eyes burned. “Mo took me out to the cabin.” A tear spilled over. Pain filled her chest. “Dylan... I don’t understand. How could he? He was a good brother. He really was. He loved Logan.” Another tear broke loose. “How can he have had this monster inside him? How did I not know this?”
“None of it was your fault.” Grace came around the table and folded her into a group hug with Skipper, who’d jumped up on Molly to lick her face, needing to be in the middle of everything, as usual.
Molly hugged them back as warmth spread inside her chest. “Can you ever forgive me? I’m so glad you didn’t get hurt. I’m so sorry, Grace. We were like sisters back in high school.”
“We’re still sisters.” Grace smiled as she returned to her chair.
Molly blew her nose and dried her face. “Sorry,” she said again, unable to think of anything else to say. The vivid image of the blood-splattered cabin loomed large in her head. “You should have never had to go through something like that.”
“You have nothing to apologize for. Mo shouldn’t have taken you to the cabin. You really didn’t need to see that place.”
Protectiveness instead of blame. They’d been best friends once. Was it possible that the damage wasn’t irreparable?
“He was right. I needed to face the truth. Denial is not healthy.”
Grace nodded slowly. “How is Logan?”
“Getting into fights at school.” She shook her head. “Mo is... He’s teaching him how to stand up for himself, how to avoid violence and how to defend himself if he can’t avoid it.”
“So Mo is spending a lot of time with you two?” A glint of interest came into Grace’s eyes. “He used to scare me. He’s so big and rough-looking. But I’m pretty sure he’s a gentle giant. He came to Tommy’s funeral. All of Ryder’s friends did.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t.” The funeral had been right after Dylan’s death when she’d been drowning in grief, blaming everyone around her.
“I shouldn’t have brought that up. I didn’t mean it as a reproach.” Grace winced. “You had a lot to deal with. We both lost brothers we love. I understand.”
Except Grace had lost a brother who was a war hero, while Molly had lost a brother who was apparently the town villain. She pushed the bitterness back, determined not to let it get a toehold. “Yes,” she agreed.
“I’m glad Mo is spending time with Logan. Whatever else Dylan did, he was a good uncle.”
Tears burned Molly’s eyes all over again. “Thank you for understanding that.”
Grace tilted her head. “So what’s this with Mo? I thought you were dating Kenny.”
“Temporary insanity.” She bit her lip. “We are kind of living at Mo’s place.”
A smile teased Grace’s lips. “You want to tell me something?”
Definitely not that little incident on the kitchen counter. She felt herself flush. The way she’d just abandoned all sense... Not like her at all. Thank goodness she was sane now. Nothing like that was going to happen between her and Mo again.
“He’s very helpful,” she said.
Grace raised an eyebrow. “I’ll bet.” Then her mouth curved into a smile. “Have you seen the rest of his team?”
“Some of them.”
She fanned herself with her hand. “Lord have mercy.”
And then they giggled like two schoolgirls, just like back in the good old days, their friendship mending.
That mended link went a long way toward her feeling better, Molly thought on her way back to the hotel with Grace. Just the two of them. Grace agreed to keep Skipper a little longer. Three dogs in the presidential suite might have been a little too much for hotel management.
“I need to pick up something at the strip mall for Ryder’s birthday,” Grace said. “Do you mind if we stop in?”
Molly shook her head. She wasn’t in a hurry. “What is he getting?”
“Lingerie.” Grace grinned.
Molly grinned back. And then it was like two best friends out on the town, and it felt amazing.
So while Grace shopped, Molly picked up a personalized coffee mug made for Mo with his name on it and a super-muscled arm for the handle. MO COFFEE. She hoped he would get a kick out of that.
She picked him up a pretty country pitcher perfect for sweet tea. She bought ingredients so she could make a few dinners, and some plastic storage containers to freeze single portions so he could have some homemade food now and then. He seemed to enjoy her cooking. She was in the checkout line when she ran back and grabbed everything she needed to bake some cookies, as well.
She started cooking as soon as Grace dropped her off at the hotel. Then when Logan came home from school, they baked up a storm together.
Then waited for Mo.
But Mo never came.
* * *
THE BORDER OP was a bust—half a dozen people who were carrying nothing. They were first-timers, looking for work. They confessed as soon as they were apprehended. They’d been told to cross and were shown the right spot for free.
A test.
Whoever was running the smuggling rings wanted to know how closely the border was watched. They sent over some decoys, then probably watched from the other side of the river with binoculars as the decoys were caught.
Mo staked out the ranch again that night, actually slept some on her sofa. He needed to catch up on rest or he’d start making mistakes. Like kissing her in the kitchen.
He’d gotten carried away. She was living at his place. When he’d offered his apartment, he’d meant it to be a sanctuary. She should be able to live there in peace, without being harassed by him because he couldn’t control his lust.
But every time he saw her, he wanted her. So maybe the key was to stay away from her, at least for the time being.
Toward dawn he set up another roadblock. He stopped a couple of cowboys going to work early. They weren’t thrilled with the harassment. He wasn’t thrilled with his lack of progress. He needed a new plan.
He called Jamie. “I’m heading in. Can you drive out here and stick around while Molly takes care of her morning chores?”
Time to get out of here. Even if he did want to see her. Even if he wanted to do way more than just see her. Well, especially because of that.
* * *
SINCE THEY ALL DROVE the same model black SUV, Molly couldn’t tell who’d be helping her today until Jamie walked out of the barn as she pulled into her driveway.
She’d been hoping for Mo, wondered why he hadn’t come home last night.
“Is Mo okay?” The words flew from her mouth before she remembered her manners. “Good morning.”
“Good morning. He’s at the office. He was out here all night.”
She wished he’d stuck around, but tried not to show her disappointment.
“Where are we starting today?” Jamie asked.
“I need to do the milking.”
He nodded. “How about if I let out the chickens?”
He was a nice guy, handsome, mild, although that mildness hid plenty of restrained power. He didn’t smile much, or ever, really. There were walls all around him that were nearly palpable. She wondered what had happened to him, but she didn’t dare ask.
Instead, she headed off to get her buckets, then headed to the barn and greeted the cows.
She didn’t mind being at Mo’s place as much as she thought she would, and Logan treated it like a vacation, glued to the video games. He thought the whirlpool tub was great and the fancy electronics still made him go wide-eyed.
But Molly missed her house.
She did her chores and Jamie helped, although she insisted he shouldn’t. He was supposed to be here to make sure she was safe. He co
uld have sat in his air-conditioned car; he didn’t need to be stepping in chicken droppings for her sake. But, of course, he wouldn’t hear of it. Like Mo, he had an inner sense of honor and chivalry.
The cowboy code, some people around here called it. Except none of the men on Mo’s team were cowboys, although some of them had adopted the local dress code of jeans and cowboy boots to fit in better.
Jamie pulled out of the driveway first, Molly right behind him, just stopping to get the mail out of the mailbox. She sat there, the car idling while she went through the stack of envelopes, hoping for no surprise bills. She had Dylan’s mail, too, from the apartment, forwarded here, so she had a handful to go through.
Kenny’s cruiser was coming down the road toward her place. Probably coming to check on his horse.
Jamie rolled his window down, his cell phone pressed to his ear. “Are we good here?”
“If you need to go someplace, go,” she told him. “I’ll be fine here with Kenny.”
She set the organic-heirloom-seed catalogs on the passenger seat as Jamie pulled away. Then came a magazine on sustainable farming. Then a bunch of flyers. A credit-card solicitation. Then something that did look like a bill, from the Hullett Storage Park. She tore open the envelope. Huh. Dylan was renting some storage.
For what? They had plenty of room at the ranch for anything he would have needed to store.
Unless it was something he didn’t want her to know about...
Her head snapped up and she reached for the horn, but Jamie had already disappeared down the road. She drew a deep breath. Might not be anything important, in any case.
Then she caught herself. She had to stop making excuses for Dylan. She had to accept that he was capable of doing wrong. She reached for her purse on the floor to call Mo, but by the time she dug her cell phone out from the bottom, Kenny’s patrol car was pulling up next to her.
He didn’t look like his usual spiffy self. His hair was mussed. Dark circles ringed his eyes. “Everything okay? I’ve been by a couple of times. Your pickup wasn’t here.”
Right. She’d forgotten to tell him. “Mo thought I shouldn’t be out here alone with Logan at night. We’re staying in Hullett.”
His eyebrows slid up his forehead. “I thought Dylan’s apartment wasn’t released yet.”
“Mo rents a place he doesn’t really use. He let us have it.”
“You’re staying with Moses Mann?” Kenny’s forehead pulled together into a scowl.
“Not with him. Just at his place. He only stops in for a change of clothes.”
Kenny’s lips flattened. “Isn’t he a dedicated government employee?” He watched her for a second. “When are they gonna be done with their budget recommendations?”
“I’m not sure. He doesn’t really talk about his job.”
“Bunch of idiot pencil pushers flown in from D.C. Think they can drive around the border for a few weeks, have everything figured out. I’ve lived here all my life, worked here since I got my badge. You’d think CBP would be asking people like me if they needed help.”
She wasn’t sure what exactly Mo was, but she was pretty sure he wasn’t a pencil pusher. The way he moved, the way he was built... All she could think of was the commando soldiers she’d seen in movies.
“They do work pretty hard,” she said, defending the team. They put in some serious hours. They wanted to figure out what was going on at the border, and they gave the task their all. While taking time to protect her. “You look tired,” she said to change the subject.
“Been pulling some double shifts.” Kenny tilted his head. “So this Mo and his super team still blame your brother for everything?”
She closed her eyes for a second. “I— It looks like Dylan might have somehow gotten involved in something he shouldn’t have.” It hurt just saying the words.
“They know that for a fact?” Kenny leaned forward. “They have any idea who he might have been working with?”
“I don’t know. I just...” She lifted the bill on her lap. “Got a bill for a storage unit he was renting in Hullett.”
He stared at the envelope, an unreadable expression on his face. “Could be nothing.” He reached a hand out the open window toward her. “Let me see it.”
She handed the bill over and waited while Kenny scanned the contents then handed the envelope back to her.
“You shouldn’t go out there. Don’t put your fingerprints on anything. Moses Mann and those yahoos are desperate to pin all their problems on someone. Make sure it’s not you. You don’t want them to take you in for another interrogation.”
He was right about that. But she didn’t think Mo’s team were a bunch of yahoos. Still. “I’m not planning on going anywhere near that storage unit.”
“If you want, I can go check it out after my shift is over tonight. Nobody has to know about it until then.”
She nodded. “Thanks, Kenny.”
“You’d probably do best if you stayed away from those outsiders. They think they’re hotshots, know everything better, look down on us country folk. They’re not like you and me, Molly.”
That Kenny would think that didn’t surprise her. Hullett and Pebble Creek were small towns, filled with people whose ancestors had lived on the borderlands for generations. They were fiercely proud of that and protective of their heritage. Newcomers were often greeted with suspicion. They usually came to take.
She exchanged a few more words with Kenny before parting ways. She wanted to deliver her vegetables before they completely wilted in the back.
She was almost in town when Mo called to check on her.
Kenny had said nobody had to know about the storage unit. But Mo...
“I just got a bill from the storage park in Hullett. It looks like Dylan was renting a unit,” she told him on impulse, then wondered if she’d done the right thing.
* * *
MO HAD BEEN OUT by the border investigating a rope line across the river that had gone up overnight, either to help people cross or to pull contraband. He got in his car as soon as Molly told him about the storage unit, but it took him an hour to reach Hullett. The GPS led him straight to the storage park. He marched into the office, flashed his CBP badge and asked for the locker number assigned to Dylan Rogers.
“And I’ll need a lock cutter, too. I’m sure you have one of those back there somewhere,” he told the twentysomething clerk behind the desk who was covered in tattoos from head to toe.
“I don’t know, dude. Do you have, like, a search warrant?” The kid chewed his wad of gum, patting his greasy goatee.
Mo had a Beretta in his holster, good enough for a padlock, he figured. He didn’t have time to play here. “Never mind. Just point me to the locker.”
The kid shook his head. “You can’t just bust into somebody’s locker, man.”
To hell with him. Mo strode out of the office and straight into the maze of lockers, followed the signs and numbers until he reached 763. The clerk caught up with him, protesting.
Then gaped at the sight that greeted them.
The lock had been busted off the unit, the space empty save for some some packing peanuts scattered around on the floor.
Mo glanced up at the security camera. Broken. Chunks of plastic lay on the ground. Still, it might have caught something before it connected with a baseball bat or whatever.
“I’m going to need the security footage.”
The kid backed away. “You’re gonna need a search warrant, man.”
He didn’t have time for a search warrant. This was their best lead in weeks and it was fresh. He’d be damned if he was going to waste it. He looked the kid over, considered a bullet in his kneecap.
He’d been on plenty of missions where interrogations had been conducted like that. But he believed that senseless violence wa
s never an intelligent man’s first weapon. So he asked nicely. While pulling himself to full height and putting on his meanest face.
“How about I just look at the footage on your screen? I won’t ask for the tape.”
The clerk’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down a few times. “Um...I suppose that would be okay.”
But the tape proved to be no help whatsoever. It didn’t show a damned thing. Whoever had taken out the camera had snuck up to it from behind. Since the unit was in the last row, near the employee entrance, no other cameras caught the guy, either. Looked as if he’d come in through the back. Mo was willing to bet that lock, too, would be busted.
The only clue he got was the time. The security footage stopped thirty minutes ago.
He thanked the clerk and called Molly on his way out. He needed to find out if she’d told anyone else about the storage bill.
But he couldn’t reach her.
Chapter Ten
Molly tried not to think of the worst while she waited on the line to be transferred to the school office. The apartment was silent around her, the dogs sleeping in Logan’s bedroom. Where Logan should have been right now, doing homework, but wasn’t.
Maybe he’d gotten into another fight and was serving detention. That he hadn’t come home on the school bus didn’t have to mean anything worse than that.
She let out a pent-up sigh. They would definitely have to have another talk about fighting.
“Mrs. Langton,” said the school secretary on the other end at last.
“Hi, this is Molly Rogers. Logan wasn’t on the school bus. Could you please see what happened to him? Did he get detention?”
“Oh, are you okay?”
“Yes. Do you know where he is?”
“Sheriff Davis took him. Kenny said you were unavailable.” An uncomfortable silence followed the last word.
“When?” Her phone beeped, an incoming call. She ignored it.
“Just as the buses were pulling out. Are you sure everything is okay? I thought—”
Mrs. Langton didn’t have to finish. Molly knew what she thought. That Molly had been arrested in connection with her brother’s crimes, that Kenny was taking Logan to Social Services.
