“They’re being hunted by the cops! God, Barry, because of the two of you, Phil and Gord could end up being gunned down like dogs!”
Charlotta sat up and looked from Barry to Jesse.
“They’ve escaped?” Jesse asked.
“Of course they’ve escaped. What do you think I’ve been saying? Poor Liz. If those boys are killed, I’m never going to forgive you.”
“They shouldn’t have escaped,” Barry said. “And if they don’t turn themselves in, and they do get killed, Mom, it’s no one’s fault but their own. None of this has been anyone’s fault, Mom, but their own.”
Barry ended the call and tossed his phone back on the night table. “Let’s go eat.”
The lover warred with the counselor. For now, the lover won. But Charlotta knew there would come a time when she’d have to have her say.
She bent over and kissed Barry, and then she kissed Jesse, too. “Yeah, let’s go eat.”
* * * *
Only five months so far. I’m never going to make it. Phil Maxwell kept his head down as he ate his lunch. He hated prison, hated the loss of freedom, and hated just about every damn bastard in the place. Some of these guys had kidnapped, sold drugs, hell, even a couple had killed. I don’t belong in here with these criminals. He looked over and saw his brother in the chow line, noticed the way his shoulders slumped. When he turned and came toward Phil, he looked up only briefly.
The bruises were healing, finally. Gordo had ended up in a disagreement with another inmate, and taken a beating when three of the asshole’s buddies had held him down.
Gordo doesn’t belong here, either.
“I thought we’d maybe do a year, at most. At the county lockup near home.” Gord mumbled the words as he sat down across from Phil. He looked up, and his brother saw the tears shimmering in his eyes. “I never thought we’d get eight years. I never thought we’d be so far from home—and with hardened cons. I hate this place, Phil. I hate it.”
“Me, too. Maybe the suits will be able to get us moved to someplace closer to home.”
“At first I thought the only good thing about being here was being away from Mom. But I miss her. I miss home.”
“Yeah, me, too.”
When two of the guards came into the room, Phil kept them in his peripheral vision. He kept eating, taking the time to chew his sandwich. When it became clear the guards were approaching their table, he laid his hands flat on the surface and braced himself.
“Maxwell.”
“Which one?” Phil asked. Gord was trembling but kept his head down.
“Both of you. Let’s go. Get your things. You’re being transferred.”
Gord snapped his head up and met his gaze.
“Where to?”
“You’ll find out. Let’s move it.”
Phil got to his feet slowly and followed the guard’s directions exactly. One stayed with him, the other took Gord. He met up with his brother again in processing.
“Looks like you’ve got friends in high places.” Phil didn’t recognize this guard. Looking to be in his sixties, with grey hair and pale blue eyes, the man was one of the few he’d met in this place who didn’t sneer. In fact, he looked kind of jovial. “You’re being transferred back to Montana. The State of Wyoming thanks you for your patronage.”
Gord sat beside him in the back of the van. They were cuffed of course. The seats at least were padded. He heard the driver and some of the guards talking. They’d be driving to an airstrip and boarding a special plane for the trip.
“At least it’s a change of scenery,” Gord said.
“Yeah, and we’ll be closer to home.” The back of the van opened and two more men were loaded up. They both looked like the worst badasses Phil had ever seen.
He met his brother’s gaze, saw the fear, and knew at least one of them had given his brother grief in the last few months.
“Hey, no sweat, man,” one of the men said. “It was nothing personal. I owed Garrick. Now I owe you.”
“It’s cool, Troy.” Gord did his best to look tough, but his brother just could never quite manage it.
It didn’t take much longer for the driver and the guard to get into the van—they sat in front, but Phil had seen the television camera in the corner, so he knew they were being watched.
One thing about life in prison, you’re always being watched. Constant surveillance got on his nerves. Just one more fucking thing to hate about this place.
“Relax. We’ve got an hour’s ride ahead of us.” The voice on the loud speaker sounded as bored as Phil felt. The two big bruisers sat with their arms resting on their laps and their expressions blank. Phil thought he caught a snicker shared between them, but dismissed it. He and Gord both sat quietly. The seats weren’t half bad, comfort wise and the motion of the van soothed. Phil closed his eyes.
And awoke to the sound of the screech of tires on pavement and the sensation of the van he was riding in careening out of control, his ass leaving the seat, the seatbelt snapping tight, forcing him back down. Then they were rolling. Terror gripped him and he screamed his brother’s name.
Phil blinked, as something wet near the corner of his eye tickled. He used the back of his hand to wipe, his stomach turning at the sight of blood.
“Phil! Phil, are you okay?”
“Yeah, I think so. What the fuck?” Other than the cut above his eye and a headache he thought he was all right. “You, bro?”
“Yeah. My ankle hurts, but yeah.”
Tires squealed, and the next thing Phil knew, the back of the van burst open. Two guys appeared, guns pointed their way. Then they tucked the weapons away and put their attention on the bruisers.
“Fuck, Larson, try to get us killed.” The man who’d apologized to Gord held out his wrists. Larson cut the cuffs off him, and then off the other big guy.
“Sorry, Troy. Come on, we don’t have long before the cops show up.”
“What about us?” Gordo spoke up. “Please! You said you owed me.”
Troy grunted. “We got room for these two, Larson?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
The bruiser looked at Gord. “We’ll take you ten miles. Then you’re on your own.”
“Deal.”
Phil looked at his brother and, for the first time in months, felt a smile on his face. They were about to be stranded in the middle of bumfuck Wyoming, but that didn’t matter. He and Gordo knew how to live off the land. They knew how to hide, to make blinds, and to forage for what they needed. They could elude capture, no sweat. All they needed was a head start.
Once Troy and Larson dropped them off, he knew exactly where they’d head—south, to Mexico. Phil nodded, but gently because his head hurt like hell.
They’d head to Mexico with a stop in Texas to pay a visit to that bitch, Veronica Benedict. The way he figured it, if not for her, those assholes Jesse and Barry wouldn’t have beat the shit out of them in the first place, and then they wouldn’t have tried to get even, and none of this would have happened.
Women are nothing but trouble, and good for only one thing. He knew his brother would agree, once he heard Phil’s plan.
They’d be pleased to dish back trouble in spades to good old Chubbs.
Chapter 15
“Go on, shoo! Join the rest of the testosterone makers in that Den of Iniquity.”
Jesse laughed then swooped in for a quick kiss. “Den of Iniquity? We’re only going to watch the afternoon game and have a couple of beers.”
“As I said.” Charlotta’s laughter rolled through him like a welcome spring breeze. His feelings for her were absolute. He was in love with her—and his brother was, too.
Hell, I’ve known that for months, and so has Barry. They hadn’t told her because they were waiting for some kind of signal from her that she would welcome their declarations.
Charlotta Carmichael was holding back, but Jesse was wise enough, and sensitive enough, to know it had nothing at all to do with them.
Sh
e had a few more walls to scale, and it was the hardest damn thing ever, being there, supporting her, loving her, yet letting her face her own challenges.
Men were built to fight their woman’s battles for her, but some women didn’t want that. He brought his attention back to Charlotta.
“There’s not even going to be bloodshed, since the Cowboys are not hosting the Badgers, but the Eagles. All the Benedicts can root for Dallas with a clear conscience, since the Eagles have already upset the Badgers twice this year and therefore deserve to go down.”
“Yes, yes. Traditions and all of that. We women are fully aware that the tradition of the Turkey Day football game is sacred. Seriously. Go and enjoy. We women folk will just hang here in the kitchen, cook dinner, and gossip about the men folk.” His cousins Ari and Carrie snickered, but otherwise pretended not to be listening in.
Jesse raised one eyebrow. “Was that supposed to make me feel relaxed, going forward?”
“Oh, hell no.” Charlotta gave him a Cheshire-cat grin while giving him a nudge. “Now git!”
“Yes, ma’am.” Jesse kissed her again and then did as he was told. Barry had already headed to the den a few minutes before, but Jesse had wanted to make sure it really was all right with Charlotta. She’d spent some time with both women over the last few months, but he didn’t want to presume she would be okay being “deserted.”
The game itself didn’t start for another half hour, but the pre-game show would be in full swing. He hadn’t been kidding when he said that everyone in that room was going to be rooting for Dallas. Booing Philadelphia, at least for today, was a matter of Benedict family pride.
Jesse opened the door and walked in, joining his brothers and cousins. Jackson held up a can of beer, and when Jesse nodded, he tossed it to him. The pre-game show was on, but muted.
That wasn’t a surprise, either.
“So, what are you going to do about Mom?” Cord asked the question and looked to him for the answer.
In times past, when the four of them had issues—family issues—that had needed to be discussed, it had been big brother Cord who’d been their spokesman and the leader.
This time was different, as it was Jesse and Barry who were in the center of their mother’s wrath.
“I was hoping to hear everyone’s advice, first.”
“Only because you’re afraid if you call her right now, you’re going to lose it,” Jackson said. His brother’s words had only been half teasing.
“That’s about right,” Jesse said.
“Guys, I don’t have any advice for y’all.” Chase shook his head. “This situation is way outside of our experience. The two of you did the right thing, and in our world, doing the right thing is always the right thing to do.”
“Amen.” Brian toasted them with his beer bottle and then took a long drink. “Wish I had words of wisdom for you, but I don’t. But I’ll have your back, whatever you decide to do.”
It helped some, knowing that. It had also helped in recent months, the chats he and Barry had had with Grandma Kate. She gave them some insight into how their mother’s mind worked. He’d been comforted to hear the Texas family matriarch agree that Norah Benedict wasn’t a bad woman so much as she was misguided, and at the root of it all, unhappy. She couldn’t see beyond her own little sphere of influence. She was, in a word, narcissistic. And she’d likely been born that way.
He’d never asked Charlotta about the condition, but he had done some research and knew that narcissists, if they could acknowledge that was what they were, could learn how not to behave in a narcissistic fashion—but that was the sticky point.
Norah would never admit she was a narcissist. And any amount of discussion wouldn’t convince her, either.
“All right, the first thing I’m going to do is call Deke Lawson—he will have been alerted that Phil and Gord escaped, and will likely be able to give us the details.”
“I have to say I never pegged those two numbskulls as being smart enough to pull off something like this.” Jackson shook his head.
“My money says they didn’t,” Barry said. “I’ll bet you we’ll find out their escape was a case of PSL—pure shit luck.”
“Use this phone, and put it on speaker,” Cord said, indicating the landline on the desk.
Jesse nodded. Even though it was a holiday, he figured Lawson wouldn’t be too annoyed hearing from him. The man had been grateful for their help in nailing the Maxwell boys and Brent Haygard.
Jesse called the man’s cell phone, but as it turned out, he was in the office.
“Not surprised to hear from you, Jesse. How’re things going down there in Texas?”
“Real good, Deke. Listen, we got a call from Mother last night. She told us the Maxwell’s have escaped?”
“Dumb bastards. Yes, they’re gone. They were being transported in a van, along with two other convicts, ones with gang connections. Apparently the gang went to a great deal of trouble to engineer an escape—and they likely let the Maxwells go as a means of splitting the search effort.” Lawson sighed. “Problem is, the driver of the van was killed in the crash. Those boys had served five months of an eight year sentence, and likely would have been out in another two, three years tops. Overall, a low risk to society crime, and with the prisons being crowded, they’d have been on the fast track. Now? We get them back, it’s very possible they won’t see daylight again for decades—if ever.”
“Thanks for the update. Could you let us know when they’re back in custody?” Jesse truly didn’t think that would be too long. Neither Phil nor Gord was overly smart.
“Will do. By the way, did you hear what happened to Haygard in lockup?”
“No, what?” It had been a sweet bonus to Jesse—to him and all of his brothers—that Veronica’s ex-boyfriend, a cowardly abusive son of a bitch, had been a part of the Maxwells’ little crime spree. He’d also been charged with sexual assault by his most recent girlfriend.
Brent Haygard deserved to be in jail.
“Apparently he’s come down with methicillin-resistant staphylococcus aureus.”
“Um…what the hell is that?”
“It’s a bacterium that causes necrotizing fasciitis—otherwise known as the flesh-eating disease. And in one of the universe’s acts of cosmic justice, he’s had to have his penis amputated.”
“Holy shit! Not that I celebrate his misfortune, but you have to admire the irony.”
Lawson chuckled. “My thoughts exactly. Enjoy the day, guys.”
As soon as Jesse disconnected the call, Cord and Jackson burst out laughing. “What a just dessert for Bubba the knuckle dragger,” Cord said.
“Amen.” Jackson grinned. “I’ll have to give Hank a call later—after the game.”
Jesse stared at the phone, and then looked up, meeting the gaze of each of his brothers.
“Just do it, man,” Barry said. “It won’t get any easier for waiting.”
“Do you want us to leave?” Chase asked.
“No,” Jesse said. “You’re family—and this is definitely a family matter.”
Addison answered the phone, a sigh of relief to Jesse. Never one to chat overmuch, she immediately took the portable phone to their father.
“Jesse, good to hear from you, son.”
“Hi Dad. How are you?”
“Good. Good.” George Benedict sounded tired, not good. Jesse was sorry for that.
“The guys are here with me, Dad. Did you know that Mom called Barry last night? She’s pretty upset that Phil and Gord have escaped, and—”
“What? How the hell did those morons manage to escape a federal prison?”
Jesse met Barry’s gaze. “Well, according to Mom, it’s our fault for having railroaded those sweet innocent baby boys of her best friend, Liz. We are, apparently, scum of the earth. Dad, I’m sorry to have to lay this all on you.”
“Fuck.” The line was silent for a moment. Then a heavy sigh let him know just how tired their father was. “No, don’t apolog
ize. I’m the one who owes you and your brothers an apology. I’ve tried, but your mother cannot be made to see reason. Those boys deserved everything they got, and the two of you did the right thing.” In his father’s voice Jesse heard not just regret, but anger. “I’ll speak to Norah. Again. I’ll try to make her understand…the thing is, I think Liz is the only friend she has left. Hell, your mother has even started to piss off Addison, something I never thought I’d see happen.”
“Mom’s told us how hurt you are that we left,” Barry said. “Dad…we’re really sorry about that. We didn’t want to hurt you, but…”
“Son, you didn’t leave, your mother drove you away. Part of the blame for that rests with me. I let your mother have her way for too long with all of you kids—mostly with the girls, but with the four of you, too. I’m sorry for that. As for your leaving? You have to make your own way in this world. That goes for all of you, and I respect that. The ranch is doing well enough—I have Jasper, who’s the best damn foreman ever, and your sister, believe it or not, is a hell of a rancher. I think I’m seeing her happy for the first time, ever. Bottom line? I’m fine, and the ranch is fine.” Then he sighed again. “I don’t know if we can come down for Christmas, but I’d like to come down there before spring.”
“You’re always welcome here, Dad,” Cord said. “Mom and Addison, too.”
“Thank you for that, Cord. Jesse, I’ll do my best to see that Norah doesn’t call you or Barry again—at least not to bitch about those two brainless fucking morons.”
“Thanks, Dad. Happy Thanksgiving.”
“And the same to you all—or maybe, since you’re in Texas, I should say, y’all.”
They all chuckled at that, and Jesse thought it was the perfect note on which to end the call. Once he hung up the phone, he sighed and looked at his brothers. “I feel sorry for him, in a way. I know he loves her—and I know she loves him. But…” He left the rest unsaid.
Jackson shook his head. “Yeah, but he has no one to blame but himself for the way things have gotten.”
Cord nodded. “As a newly married man, I can attest to the fact that a good paddle is a sound investment, and really all that’s required.”
Love Under Two Outcasts [The Lusty, Texas Collection] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 14
