Last Chance at the Someday Café

by Angel Smits

  Work filled her mind so that she wasn’t thinking about Morgan. At least that’s what she kept telling herself. Still, where was he now? What was he doing? looped when she wasn’t focused.

  She grabbed two plates of pie for the party at table eleven. Coffee. They’d both ordered coffee. She’d just reached for the creamer when the door opened. She automatically looked, reprimanding herself. It wouldn’t be Morgan.

  When her brother DJ came in, she smiled. “I’ll be right back.” She delivered the plates, then hustled to where he sat. “Tammie still having problems? Pie or a burger?” She knew she was rushing to talk, wanting something to distract herself.

  “Tammie’s not the problem.” He wasn’t smiling.

  “Then why are you here?” He crossed his arms over his chest. Uh-oh. “What happened?”

  “Oh, nothing’s happened—yet.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Damn it, Tara.” He leaned forward. “Imagine my surprise when I go to my older sister’s house to help her move some furniture, and she tells me you’re seeing some guy named Morgan.”

  Tara’s smile faded. She should have known there were no secrets in this family. “And?” She leaned against the counter, waiting for the usual lecture.

  When he didn’t immediately start in on her, she was surprised. “I’m waiting, DJ. Go ahead, give me hell.” With a huff, she gathered dishes and prepared to ignore him.

  “Morgan Thane?”

  That made her stop. She turned around, hands full of plates. “How did you know?”

  He cursed again, this time getting a dirty look from the older couple at table four.

  “He is not someone you should be involved with.”

  “And you know this how?”

  DJ ran a hand through his hair. “He’s involved in things you don’t know about.”

  Tara rolled her eyes. “If you mean the fighting, I know.” She walked to the counter. “The question I have is, how do you know about it?”

  “Well...”

  She set the plates down before she either dropped them or threw them at him. “You better tell me, brother dear.”

  This time, DJ was the one who rolled his eyes. “It’s not that big a secret.” He threw up his hands. “There’s been talk around town about an underground fight. It’s not that odd. The hands go to ’em sometimes.” He was referring to the men who worked on Wyatt’s ranch. “I’ve been to a couple over the years. They’re pretty rough.”

  “You know about them? How come I’ve never heard about it before?”

  DJ shrugged. “We always knew about them, even when we were kids. Maybe because you were a girl?”

  “Does Addie know?”

  “You’ll have to ask her.”

  Then a thought crossed her mind. “Do you know where they are?” She came around the counter, grabbing his arm. “Do you know where this one is?”

  “Oh, no.” DJ shook his head. “I see those wheels turning in your head. No. That’s no place for you.”

  “That’s not your choice.”

  He cursed again.

  She’d seen the results of those fights on Morgan’s face. “DJ, I’m not a kid. I know you and the others all think of me as your little sister. But look at this place.” She lifted her hands. “A kid can’t do this. A kid doesn’t work this damned hard.”

  “Come on, Tara.”

  “No. You don’t get to walk in here and try to play big brother and not...and not do something for me.”

  Morgan had refused to discuss the fights or anything to do with them. Last night, all her brilliant plans to distract him had backfired, and he’d spent the night distracting her. It had been glorious and wonderful, and she hadn’t wanted it to end.

  Today’s realization only made it worse and increased her urgency. “I’ve tried to talk him out of it,” she said. Then she considered and did something she didn’t think Morgan would be very pleased about.

  She told DJ everything—well, everything except the private parts. That would not convince DJ to help her.

  “What makes you think he’s going to listen to you?” DJ finally asked.

  He wasn’t. That was the problem. She and Jack had already tried all that. “He won’t. But if we can find Sylvie, then he won’t have to fight.”

  “I don’t know if that’s true. Those crowds get rowdy. They won’t like it if he backs out.”

  “We have to try.”

  DJ cursed again. Table four was probably never coming back. She couldn’t care right now.

  “On one condition...”

  “Oh, thank you!” Tara threw her arms around DJ’s neck. “Thank you.”

  “You haven’t heard this condition.”

  “I don’t care. Anything.”

  “I’m calling Wyatt.”

  “Okay, that’s not what I wanted to hear.” She didn’t like the idea of Wyatt’s disapproval. Even now, she saw that look he and Addie had shared in the kitchen when she’d told them about buying this place. “Do we have to?”

  “Yeah. He’ll make sure some of the boys are there. I am not letting you go by yourself, and I’m not stupid enough to even consider going there without them.”

  “All right.” She reluctantly gave in, just as she knew he expected. “Here.” She handed him the handset of the diner’s phone. She had no idea where her cell phone was—again.

  “Uh—” He held up his cell phone. “I got my own.” He hit Speed Dial, and they both waited for Wyatt to answer.

  * * *

  THE NIGHT SKY shone with stars, and the remnants of a fading moon lit the landscape. It was the first clear night Tara could remember in weeks. The shadowed outline of the steel-frame building stood dark against the fading light.

  Wyatt’s voice came out of the darkness behind them. “If Pal Haymaker weren’t already dead, I’d think this was his doing.”

  Tara shivered at the memory of the old rancher who’d always been a thorn in her family’s side. He’d nearly destroyed the entire county, and had managed to ruin his own family with his greed, last year. People were still trying to recover from that devestating fire.

  DJ was ahead and Tara knew her brothers and the other hands from the ranch had surrounded her. They’d watched too many old Westerns.

  “I think we are actually on Haymaker property,” DJ said.

  “Great.” Wyatt was not happy about that. She could hear it in his voice.

  She’d been to dozens of events around the county, and this felt like most of them. Cowboys and their pickups filled the field around the building. She could see the lit end of cigarettes, but otherwise, moonlight was all they had to guide them.

  The ground beneath their feet was damp and squishy, but the thick grasses made it not quite a total mess.

  There weren’t any windows in the building—she had no idea where they were going. But DJ and Wyatt seemed to know.

  As they walked, the thick grasses scraped against her jeans, and the men mumbled quietly to each other. If she didn’t know better, this would be like going to any of the country dances or rodeos that happened here each summer.

  She had an awful lot of questions for both Wyatt and DJ once this was all over with. But that would have to wait.

  Then she saw him. She hadn’t expected Morgan to be out here. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but there he was.

  Morgan stood staring at the building. Tara couldn’t help but stare at him. The shadows accentuated the breadth of his shoulders. He didn’t move, and she wondered what was going through his mind. Did she really want to know?

  Unable to speak, she took a couple steps toward him. Gravel crackled beneath her feet. His head whipped around, and she felt rather than saw the glare that shot through her.

  “What are
you doing here, Tara?”

  “Following you.” She was in for it. No holding back now.

  “Go home, Tara.” He walked away from her, a purpose in his step. “You don’t belong here.”

  “And you do?” She crossed her arms, as much to keep from reaching out for him as to look stronger.

  “That’s what we keep trying to tell her.” DJ stepped forward.

  “And you are?” Morgan glared at him.

  That was not going to help, and she hurried to explain. “These are my brothers. DJ and Wyatt. And some of Wyatt’s employees.”

  No one shook hands, no one even moved, except maybe to breathe but she wasn’t totally sure about that.

  “I’m sure there’s room inside.” Morgan lifted an arm toward the door. “If that’s why you’re here. Otherwise, if you’ll excuse me, I have a match.” He started walking.

  She should have known he wouldn’t stop for her. He just kept walking, his steps loud against the gravel. She hurried to get into step beside him and heard the others close behind.

  As they drew closer to the metal barn, she heard the sounds of loud voices. Cheers and whistles broke through the night.

  “Go. Home. Tara.” Morgan stopped at a metal fire door, his hand on the knob. “Do me a favor, gentlemen. Take her home.”

  Tara crossed her arms. “Nope. Not going without you.”

  “Oh, we’ve tried,” DJ said.

  Morgan glared at her. She glared back. “Why are you doing this?” she asked.

  “You know why.”

  “No, I don’t. Not this time. Is she here?”

  “I don’t know—yet.”

  Suddenly, the door flew open and two men stumbled out. Tara squealed as they nearly landed on her and she jumped back.

  “Fine.” Morgan’s hand clamped around her wrist, and with little effort, he pulled her to his side. “Stay with me. Don’t even think about going anywhere, you got it?”

  She nodded.

  Morgan turned to the crowd of men behind her. “At least try to blend in.”

  Inside, the door slammed with a vibration she doubted anyone heard. The noise level inside was deafening, with voices bouncing off all four metal walls.

  Down a flight of stairs, where a group of big rigs were parked, a crowd of people gathered around a circle of dirt. Mostly men, though she did see a few women scattered around. Morgan ignored her except to drag her with him as he made his way down the steps.

  A voice came out of the dark. “Hey, Dewey. You sure about this?” A big hulk of a man separated himself from the crowd. He looked the way she expected a brawler to look. Big, rough, with shoulders that made Morgan’s seem small. She felt miniature.

  “I’m sure.” A scraggly looking man grinned. He had his hands full of money, the bills nestled in between his fingers as if he were trying to keep each pile separate. “You just wait and see, Will. Just you wait and see. Welcome back, Thane.”

  Morgan grunted. “Let’s just get this done.” He barely moved his mouth, his jaw was clenched tight. “Or you just gonna stand there and yammer?”

  “No, man.” The man with the money grinned. “Let’s get down to business.” He led the way through the crowd, which parted as Morgan followed.

  What was she supposed to do? The crowd closed in on her, and the scent of dust and other undefinable odors, not so pleasant, engulfed her. Where were her brothers? She looked back. They were close, but the crowd swarmed around them.

  The vise of Morgan’s hand was all that kept her from being swept away, as well. She hurried to keep up.

  The open path behind them vanished. Engulfing her. Pushing her toward the wide-open dirt ring.

  When Morgan stopped, she nearly plowed into his back, catching her breath as she caught herself, her hand against his broad, muscular spine. Heat seeped into her palm, and she yanked her hand back. He didn’t even notice.

  The thin man whose fists were full of money stepped into the circle. Morgan stayed put. He let go of her hand and a shiver of fear slid through her. Without his anchor, she’d be swept away. As if sensing her fear, Morgan turned to face her. “Stay with them. You hear me?”

  She turned to find Wyatt and DJ standing just inches behind her. She nodded, realizing what they’d all meant trying to warn her away from this.

  Morgan stepped away, but the crowd didn’t follow him like before. He stood there, flexing, clenching his hands at his sides. The muscles of his arms bunched beneath his suntanned skin.

  “You’re in for a treat tonight, folks,” the man in the center of the circle cried above the crowd. “He’s back. Morgan Thane. And he’s aching to bring on the pain.”

  Morgan’s jaw twitched, but that was all the reaction Tara saw to the man’s words. She gulped. Was this for real?

  Across the circle, another man stepped out of the crowd. “Yeah?” His fists at his sides. “You think you can beat me?”

  “He sure as shootin’ can, Kenny,” Dewey cried with a hoot of laughter. “Care to put your money where your mouth is?”

  “This ain’t no toothpaste commercial, Dewey.” The man leaned in close, breathing into the smaller man’s face. “Let’s get down to business.”

  Morgan turned his gaze to the money man, and, with a knowing glare, jerked his chin toward Tara. Dewey turned and met her wide-eyed stare. He nodded and moved to stand right in front of her. She had to shift to the side to see.

  Where a normal boxing ring had a bell, this place had an air horn. Tara slammed her hands over her ears as the sound cut through her brain. She dropped her hands as the two men shifted toward each other.

  Morgan was moving around slowly, prowling the clearing, never taking his intense gaze from the big man before him. Her heartbeat pounded hard. She realized she wasn’t breathing and forced her lungs to expand. She couldn’t afford to do anything stupid like pass out. She’d be trampled under the crowd’s stomping feet.

  The big bruiser of a man took the first swing, his fist hitting nothing but air.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  MORGAN KNEW HE was going to win. Not that the fight was rigged—something common in the illegal rings—but because he’d done his homework. He’d pumped Dewey for information and learned Kenny’s weaknesses. Kenny had gotten old and too comfortable in his prowess. He banked on new guys being too afraid of him. And it often worked.

  Morgan knew better.

  He also knew that he had to focus on the fight or get the shit beat out of him again, which meant he couldn’t scan the crowd to search for Sylvie. Instead, he cut a deal with Dewey.

  Dewey didn’t care how he got his money, as long as he got it. Morgan had sweetened the pot for the greedy bastard. If Dewey found Sylvie before Morgan did, there was a big fat reward in it.

  Dewey knew where Sylvie was, Morgan was sure of it. He’d hinted that he’d tell Morgan for the cost of a fight. Morgan had agreed. He’d have agreed to just about anything for that information.

  Morgan should have thought of that idea months ago.

  Still, when Kenny’s fist connected for the first time, Morgan cursed. It still hurt like hell, but the pain gave his anger focus. Yeah, he was gonna win.

  And he was going to find Sylvie. He’d known her too long. While she’d changed, she hadn’t changed that much. She couldn’t stand not having his full attention. He just had to wait for her to show herself. And act like he wasn’t looking for her, pretend he was ignoring her. That’d trip her up.

  So with Dewey on the lookout for Sylvie, Morgan focused on putting Kenny on his ass in the dirt.

  Blood stained Morgan’s knuckles. His? Or from Kenny’s nose? It looked a bit more crooked than before.

  The mountain of a man was going to have a nasty shiner in the morning. Still, Morgan wasn’t off the hook, either. His hand need
ed a bucket of ice. It stung. As did his jaw.

  “That all you got, Thane?” Kenny growled, prowling around Morgan with his fists raised. Morgan’s focus honed in on the guy’s shoulders, looking for him to telegraph his next move.

  “Not even.” Morgan laughed, though not in humor. “Your age is showing, old man.”

  Kenny swung and Morgan managed to duck. But Kenny’s efforts weren’t a total waste. His other fist plowed into Morgan’s ribs, shoving the air out of his lungs. Morgan jerked back, sucking in air, trying to save his equilibrium. And stave off the pain. He moved slowly away. Shaking his head, he kept his eyes on Kenny. Looking away would be the end of it all.

  * * *

  SO MUCH FOR good intentions. Tara tried to watch the fight, but after Morgan’s first swing, she was behind DJ, hiding her face in her brother’s shoulder. She consoled herself that at least she hadn’t buried her face in her hands like a total wimp. DJ’s broad shoulders served as a block just fine.

  She’d seen her brothers get into it as kids, and a few fights in bars, but she’d never seen anything like this.

  It didn’t help that DJ’s muscles bunched and moved as if he was out there, swinging punches himself. The men from the ranch cried out encouragement and punched the air around them.

  She couldn’t. She just couldn’t.

  This was harsh and just plain cruel. How could Morgan hit someone with his bare fists, intending to hurt them? How could anyone tolerate that much pain, knowing it was coming?

  “You want to leave?” DJ asked over his shoulder.

  “No.” She might not be able to watch, but she was here for a reason and she wasn’t backing down from that. She didn’t have to watch the fight.

  But listening became almost worse. The crowd was really into it, but even over their yelling, she heard the footfalls of Morgan and his opponent, heard the sickening sound of knuckles against skin. She shivered despite the heat of all the packed-in bodies.