Dawson’s Honor
Welcome to Covendale: Book 6
Morgan Blaze
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Copyright © 2015 by Morgan Blaze
All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously.
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Books in the Welcome to Covendale series:
COWBOY’S PRIDE (Cam & Sydney)
SOLDIER’S CHOICE (Reese & Luka)
DEPUTY’S SECRET (Nick & Emma)
DAWSON’S STAND (Gage & Kyla)
DAWSON’S FALL (Mark & Aubrey)
DAWSON’S HONOR (Jonah & Piper)
** All Welcome to Covendale books can be read as standalones! **
Her life’s in his hands…and his heart is in hers.
“I never knew…” She moved closer, until she was inches from him. “I’ve heard the talk,” she said. “Everyone in town has. The Dawson boys are bad news, and their sister isn’t much better. But I don’t put stock in rumors.” Her hand on his arm practically burned him. “You’re not what they say you are.”
“They don’t know me,” he said. “I’m worse.”
“You’re not a monster, Jonah.” She took his hand, and he held back a shudder. He doubted she had any idea what she was doing to him. People didn’t touch him…not like this. “You can’t be.”
“Yes, I can.”
“Nobody who loves his family that much could be a monster.”
“Piper…” This had to stop. If he let himself think for one minute that she could accept him, consider him anything more than some guy who came into the diner a lot and broke bones in his spare time, he’d do something they would both regret. And he wanted to—badly. “I work for Eddie Verona. Remember?”
“But you don’t want to,” she said. “The more I find out about you, the more I…really like you. And not just because you’re saving my life.”
He groaned. “Don’t say that.”
“Why not?”
He reached out, hesitated, and cupped a hand to her face. “Because I like you, too,” he said, unable to resist brushing his thumb along her lips. She shivered against him, and he nearly lost the fight. “But I’m broken. I can’t give you what you need.”
“How do you know what I need?” she said. “Maybe we could—”
“No.” He tried to sound gentle, but frustration crept in as he backed away. “We can’t. I can’t. And right now, we need to find Patrick.”
Her stunned expression hardened quickly. “I guess we do,” she said. “I’ll get on it, then.”
He watched her walk stiffly back to the bed, hating himself with every step she took. But it couldn’t be helped. Survival was the priority—and even if they made it through, there could never be anything between them. In fact, he expected that she wouldn’t even speak to him when this was over.
He’d live with that, as long as she wasn’t dead.
* * * *
Read on for more!
Prologue
Covendale – eight years ago
Jonah Dawson sat silently in the passenger seat while his new boss drove them to the evening’s job. He was moving up tonight—breaking his first leg.
Not something he particularly looked forward to.
“You look tense, kid.” Eddie Verona spoke without glancing at him. “Getting cold feet?”
Jonah took his time responding. “Nah.”
“Well, don’t worry. It gets easier after the first few times.”
“Sure.”
Now Eddie looked at him, one brow raised. “You really don’t talk much, do you?”
He answered that one by not answering, and Eddie laughed. “All right, I get it,” the man said. “Silence is golden. Me, I’d rather have some tunes, at least.” He punched a button on the car radio, and a twangy country song filled the air.
Jonah turned to stare out the side window, reminding himself that he was doing what had to be done. He was the oldest. Now that Mom was gone, it fell to him to take care of his brothers and sister—and there was no way he could do that on a part-time job at the salvage yard. Not with thousands in unpaid medical bills from their mother’s long fight with cancer, and six months of back payments on the trailer.
Apparently, the only reason they hadn’t been kicked out was Mom’s health. But her death led to almost immediate warnings and eviction notices, and they had nowhere else to go. Gramps, their only surviving relative, lived in a one-room apartment at the senior assisted living center.
So like many other desperate residents of Covendale before him, Jonah had gone to Eddie Verona for help. The bank would never give a nineteen-year-old kid a loan for as much as he needed—even if that particular institution wasn’t owned by a man with a personal vendetta against the Dawsons. Eddie was the only chance they had for not ending up homeless, or worse.
The man had refused to loan him anything. Instead, he’d offered him a job—he’d advance fifteen thousand, and Jonah could work it off. He’d even promised that when the money was paid back, Jonah could walk away free and clear. All he had to do was intimidate people who weren’t making payments, and break a few bones here and there.
Agreeing hadn’t been easy. He might’ve made a career out of threats and intimidation in high school, in the interests of sheer self-preservation, but this was the real world. The potential consequences were a hell of a lot more severe. When he finally did say yes, he’d made himself a promise: He would never, ever bring his work home with him.
It was only temporary. Once he’d paid back the fifteen grand, he’d find something full time and avoid Eddie Verona for the rest of his life.
The blaring music eased down and Jonah figured Eddie was about to impart something, so he tuned back into the present. “All right, this one’s going to be a little different,” Eddie said. “You just do what I tell you, when I say, and there won’t be a problem.”
Jonah couldn’t suppress a frown. “Different how?”
“You’ll see.”
The unease in him swelled, but he pushed it away and made himself as blank as possible. So far he’d only done three menacing visits, and one session where he’d broken a finger. That had been alarmingly easy—like snapping a twig. He’d let himself feel the man’s screams for a few minutes, allowed the terrible sound to sink deep into him as a form of atonement. He knew exactly how wrong it was to do this. But there were worse fates in store for his family if he didn’t. Gage and Luka separated in foster care, or out on the streets. Him and Mark in prison. Or dead.
Of course, breaking a man’s leg was new for him. But somehow he knew that wasn’t what Eddie meant by different.
Soon they were rolling up to a self-serve storage place just outside town. Eddie turned onto the main drive and waited. Less than a minute later, another car pulled in behind him and followed as he drove toward the far end of the lot. He jerked a thumb back, and said, “These boys are here to make sure our client stays put, while you do the honors.”
Despite the chill in him, Jonah remained calm. He couldn’t afford to get emotional about this.
As Eddie turned down a row of storage buildings, a figure darted into the last one. The rolling door slammed shut. With a snarl, Eddie grabbed the CB handse
t lying in the console and clicked down on the trigger. “Around the back,” he barked into it.
Behind them, a squeal of tires announced the other car’s compliance with his order.
Eddie sighed and put the CB down. “This one’s a runner,” he said. “But not for much longer, am I right?”
“Yeah.”
“Remember what I said, Jonah.”
The threat behind those words was mild enough, but it was there. He had to wonder what it was about this job that made Eddie especially adamant. So far he’d done everything he was told, so why did the man think he wouldn’t now?
Eddie parked in front of the rolling door. As they both got out, the two men from the other car came around the far side of the building with the answer to Jonah’s question—a kicking and twisting, double handful of terrified female.
His gut wrenched. No way in hell could he ever hurt a woman.
“Hello, Celeste.” If Eddie noticed Jonah’s sudden reluctance, he didn’t acknowledge it. “Going somewhere?”
The woman stilled, breathing heavily. Her wide-eyed gaze flicked to Jonah, and high spots of color bloomed on her cheeks. “Eddie,” she gasped. “Is this really necessary? I told you I’d have your payment.”
“You did tell me that. Three weeks ago.” Eddie stepped closer. “You know my terms, Celeste. Weekly payments. Nobody dodges me for this long and gets away with it. Not even you.”
“I wasn’t dodging you. I just need—”
“Save your breath, dear.” Eddie’s trademark grin was carved from ice. “You’re going to need it to scream.”
The loan shark walked back to the car, opened the driver’s side door and took out a crowbar. He returned and handed it to Jonah. “You’re a righty, aren’t you?”
With a bare nod, Jonah accepted the weapon. The cold metal practically seared his hand.
“Take the left leg, below the knee.”
“Eddie, please.” The woman, Celeste, was barely audible. She’d stopped struggling completely. “I can get it. Give me one more day, and I’ll—”
“Do it, kid. Now.”
Jonah closed his eyes. He didn’t have a choice. He was already into Eddie for fifteen grand, and he had plenty of leverage that could be used again him. He absolutely had to do this.
But he couldn’t.
“No.” He said it quietly, without a tremor, and sent a steady look at his boss. “I’ll never hurt a woman. Not now, not ever.”
Eddie stared at him with mounting fury. Finally, he snatched the crowbar away, whirled and brought it down hard.
Celeste’s screams were like daggers.
“At least you didn’t try to stop me,” Eddie muttered darkly. “You know, for a smart kid, you’re a dumb son of a bitch. All right, search her.”
The two thugs patted the gasping woman down. One of them took something out of her pocket—a cell phone—and handed it to Eddie. He dropped it on the ground and smashed it with the crowbar. They let go of Celeste and she crumpled like a tissue, sobbing violently.
Eddie loomed over her. “Why don’t you just wait here, Celeste?” he said. “Soon as we’re gone, I’ll send my partner around to collect you. He’ll drop you wherever you want.” He leaned down and grinned. “I’d recommend you avoid the hospital and the sheriff’s station. Unless you want that other leg to match, and probably your head.”
Jonah briefly considered running, but it wouldn’t do any good. He knew Eddie carried. The other two were likely to be just as armed. So his best chance was to hope the loan shark’s cryptic statement meant he wasn’t going to kill him yet.
Finally, Eddie bothered to look at him. “Take him behind the car,” he said. “The lady doesn’t need to see this.”
His veins filled with ice. He didn’t fight the thugs as they grabbed his arms and marched him around the car, then pushed him against the trunk and held him upright. “Too bad, kid,” the one on the right said. “I kinda liked your style.”
It wasn’t long before Eddie ambled around and stopped in front of him, shaking his head. “I’m curious,” he said. “Which word that came out of my mouth did you fail to understand?”
Without waiting for an answer, Eddie drove a fist into his gut. The blow doubled him over instantly.
“Solar plexus,” Eddie said. “That’s an important term you’re gonna learn. Get him up.”
The thugs wrenched his shoulders back. Eddie hit him again, and again, until he couldn’t breathe. Then he kept going.
“You’re damned lucky you’ve got so much potential.” Another blow, and he coughed and tasted blood. “You’re big and mean, and soon you’ll be bigger. Meaner. I’ll see to that.” The next few blows pounded his kidneys, and he barely managed to keep from pissing himself. “But you’re my big and mean. And you will do what I tell you.”
One of the thugs grabbed his hair and pulled his head up. Eddie’s fist struck his face with bone-cracking force. Hot blood gushed from his nose.
“Well, that’s gonna be real pretty.” Jonah couldn’t see anything beyond a blur, but Eddie’s voice was laced with disgust. “Get him in the goddamned car.”
Jonah couldn’t walk if he wanted to. He was half-carried, half-dragged across the ground and loaded into the passenger side. The woman was still sobbing—softer now, a desperate and heartbroken sound.
Somehow he didn’t care as much as he had a few minutes ago.
He heard Eddie get in, and the engine start. The motion of the car was agony. He kept passing out in fits and spurts, hearing snatches of Eddie’s phone conversation with what he guessed was his partner. Then a long, smooth stretch of blackness. When he came around again, he could almost see—at least enough to tell that both his eyes were swelling.
“You’re home, kid.” Eddie put the car in park and faced him with a sigh. “I’d say sorry, but…well, I’m not. You needed the lesson.”
Jonah didn’t even try to speak. He’d be lucky if he had enough strength to get out of the car.
“Look, why don’t you take a few days off?” Eddie said. “Come in Saturday night, around eight. I’ll have an easier job for you.”
He grunted.
“I’ll take that as a yes. Now get out of here.”
With monumental effort, Jonah found the handle and popped the door open. He caught himself inches from spilling onto the pavement. It took an eternity to maneuver one leg out, then the other. When he stood, leaning on the car frame for support, his entire body felt stuffed with broken glass.
“Oh, and Jonah? One more little thing.”
He froze and waited.
“To be honest, I don’t especially care for hurting women either. I guess you won’t believe me, but it’s true.” Eddie leaned over, and said, “Here’s the deal, though. Eventually, there will come another time when the only possible target is a woman. And when that time comes, if you refuse—if you even hesitate—I’ll kill you myself. Are we clear?”
“Crystal,” Jonah rasped.
“Hallelujah. It speaks.” Eddie straightened behind the wheel. “See you soon, kid.”
Jonah managed to close the door and step back as Eddie peeled away. When the sound of the car’s engine faded, he fell to his knees. No matter how hard he strained, he couldn’t get back up.
So he crawled across the bare yard toward the trailer.
The steps would be impossible to navigate. Beyond that, he didn’t want his brothers—or God forbid, Luka—to see him like this. His little sister was only twelve. He maneuvered himself into the hollow space beneath the trailer, where he and Mark used to sneak cans of beer, and tried to find the least painful position to lie down. At least it was a warm night. They’d be fine until morning, when he could get himself cleaned up. The Dawson kids were used to taking care of themselves.
His last thought before blacking out was that Eddie had been right about one thing. He would get bigger and meaner, until he was big enough and mean enough to take any thug that bastard could throw at him. Including Eddie himself.<
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* * * *
Aunt Celeste was extremely late.
Piper Starr paced another full circuit of the house, trying to avoid looking at any clocks. Knowing it was one in the morning did not make her feel any better. Celeste should’ve been home hours ago—she’d only gone to the Stop ’n Shop for milk and coffee. At ten at night, for some reason.
The woman who’d been her only family for most of her life had been acting really strange over the past few weeks. Celeste was constantly stressed and anxious, evasive when Piper asked what was wrong. She kept going out randomly at all hours of the day and night. And she’d been spending a lot of time with her new friend Patrick Stiles—a man Piper found creepy at best.
This was the worst yet. She had no idea what to do. She’d called Celeste’s phone a dozen times, but it kept going straight to voicemail. Maybe she should call the sheriff’s office. But would they take a seventeen-year-old seriously, when her aunt was an adult? She doubted that.
Still, much longer and she’d call anyway. Something was very wrong.
Her restless pacing brought her back to the living room when the front door burst open and Patrick Stiles rushed through, carrying a pale and barely conscious Celeste in his arms. She couldn’t even get out a scream before he said, “Shut the door and lock it. Right now.”
Shaking all over, Piper did as she was told. “What’s going on?” she said hoarsely.
“Nothing good.” Patrick laid Celeste gently on the couch. “Stay with her a minute,” he said, and made a beeline for the bathroom.
Piper rushed over and knelt beside her. Celeste’s face was the color of chalk and covered with sweat, her eyes half-closed and twitching. Her teeth clenched so tight that her jawbone stood out. “Aunt Celeste?” she whispered, taking her hand. “What happened?”
“I’m f-fine, sweetheart.” Her voice was halting and strained. “Had a little…accident.”
“What kind of accident?”
Just then Patrick came charging back, carrying the big china bowl from the bathroom. The one that had been filled with river rocks and flowers. Apparently he’d dumped them out and put something else in. A bunch of somethings. “Move aside,” he said. “You can keep holding her hand, if you want. It might help.”
Dawson's Honor (Welcome to Covendale Book 6) Page 1
