Dawson's Fall (Welcome to Covendale #5)

by Morgan Blaze

  That was a lot easier to live with than wanting her, knowing damned well he could never have her. Because she was a Monroe.

  He tried to push her out of his head and focus on Jason. Not that he could do anything about that, either. But the rage hurt less, and he was good and pissed about his eye. His mother would be so unhappy. She already worried enough over him, and his brothers and sister, when she had far more important things to worry about. Like dying.

  Wrapped up in his own miserable thoughts, he didn’t even notice the big white Lincoln rolling slowly toward him—until it swerved into the oncoming lane and jumped the curb, coming to a crooked stop in front of him. The driver’s side door opened.

  And Aubrey’s father got out.

  Roger Monroe looked terrible. The owner of Covendale Savings and Mutual Bank, he was normally dressed in a crisp suit, clean-shaven and straight as a rod. But right now he wore a stained t-shirt beneath a rumpled jacket, plaid pajama pants, and house slippers. Blank eyes stared dully from a face sprinkled with stubble, and his arms hung slack at his sides.

  There was a gun clutched loosely in one hand.

  Wide-eyed and startled, Mark took a rapid step back. “Mr. Monroe—”

  “Shut up.” The man’s tone was as ragged as his appearance. “My daughter,” he said. “You…assaulted her.”

  “No.” Mark raised his hands slowly, trying to look non-threatening. His stomach churned like a waterfall. “It was a misunderstanding,” he said. “An accident.”

  “An accident,” the man repeated in hollow tones. “Like my wife. And my baby.”

  “Mr. Monroe, please…”

  “You’re animals. All of you Dawsons. Wild, rabid animals.” He stepped forward and lifted the gun with a trembling arm. “You need to be put out of your misery.”

  Mark swallowed hard and tensed to run.

  The screech of tires behind him startled his heart into beating again. He didn’t dare look away from the man with the gun, but he hoped a witness would at least keep him from pulling the trigger.

  A door clicked opened, and a deep voice said, “I called the sheriff. Put it down, Monroe.”

  Jonah. Mark shuddered inwardly. He had no idea how his older brother found out about this—and he wasn’t sure if things were better or worse. After all, now the man had two Dawsons he could shoot.

  He sensed Jonah coming up next to him before he caught a glimpse of him from the corner of his eye. “You don’t want to do this,” his brother said. “Sheriff Tanner is on the way. I told him what you were doing. He’ll know it was you.”

  Monroe looked from one to the other. “Animals,” he whispered. “You’re all animals.”

  After a moment that stretched into eternity, the man finally lowered the gun and shuffled back to his car.

  Mark didn’t move until the Lincoln started up and drove away. Then he let out a shaking breath. “That was a hell of a bluff,” he said, turning to Jonah at last. “I mean, the sheriff wouldn’t—”

  Looking at his brother was like taking a wrecking ball to the gut.

  Jonah was pale as winter, with dark shadows under wet, red-rimmed eyes, and pain etched into every feature. His hands were fisted so tightly that his knuckles gleamed white. Even as Mark stared at him, one tear escaped to slide slowly down his cheek.

  And he knew.

  “Jonah.” His voice seemed to come from a long way off. “Is she…”

  His brother nodded once. Up, down.

  The icy numbness that filled him was almost comforting. “Who’s with the kids?”

  “Gramps. And that preacher.”

  “All right.”

  Without a sound, he followed Jonah to the rust-eaten pickup parked just behind them. His mind tucked away Jason Monroe’s cruelly prophetic words from the party, so he could take them out later to punish himself. Right now he needed to focus on his family.

  The Dawsons had a funeral to plan.

  Chapter 1

  Covendale – present day

  The Klinker hadn’t changed a bit in the last eight years.

  Aubrey hung back by the food table, looking around the big room at the back of the bar that had hosted scores of Covendale’s wedding receptions, anniversary parties, family reunions, and other big life events. Including welcome-home parties like this one. She was still trying to recover from the surprise—her father hadn’t told her anything about it until they got here half an hour ago.

  Since then, she must’ve talked to dozens of people. A lot of them she barely remembered. It wasn’t easy pretending she was happy to see virtual strangers, especially when they acted like she was some kind of celebrity. The prodigal daughter returned. Her father had seriously overplayed her accomplishments. You’d think no one in this town had ever graduated from college or worked an internship before.

  Of course the one person she recalled vividly, despite actively trying to forget him, would never be here. She figured the Dawsons must have left this town years ago, anyway. After their mother died, there wouldn’t be anything for them in Covendale.

  “Wow. You look so excited.”

  She jumped a bit, and then smiled and gave her a brother a light shove. “You scared me,” she said. “I thought you weren’t coming until later.”

  “And miss all this fun?”

  “I blame you,” she said. “You could’ve talked him out of it.”

  Jason smirked. “Maybe. But it doesn’t pay to piss off the boss.”

  At last she relented and hugged him. “Thanks for being here.”

  “Like I had a choice.” He smiled and stepped back. “You’re still coming for dinner tomorrow, right? I haven’t gotten to see you much since you got here.”

  “Of course.” A quick stab of guilt moved through her. She’d been back almost a week, but she’d spent most of her time at her new apartment in the main part of town. Much as she loved her family, she couldn’t live with them anymore—not after being on her own for so long. But Jason had never left, and still lived with their father so he wouldn’t be alone.

  She felt guilty about that, too.

  “So how’s it going with your promotion?” she said, hoping to move the conversation away from her. “Dad says you’re pretty much in charge now.”

  Jason shrugged. “I’m learning the ropes,” he said. “He’ll always be the big guy, but at least no one resents me for being the boss’s son. Plus, I have the best office.”

  “That’s awesome.” Hopefully she sounded more excited than she felt. It was a relief to know that Jason would carry on the family business—because a long career in banking was not particularly appealing to her.

  Before she could come up with something encouraging to say, her father started toward them with an older woman in tow. Aubrey had never seen her before, but everything about the woman said she had money. A whole lot of money.

  Roger Monroe was smiling when he reached them. “Aubrey, I’d like you to meet my newest client,” he said. “Mrs. Joliet Vanderbright, this is my daughter, Aubrey.”

  “Oh, you are just lovely.” The woman, Mrs. Vanderbright, stepped forward and took the hand Aubrey had automatically extended. Hers was soft and dry, with a grip firmer than most men’s. “I simply can’t wait to work with you, dear.”

  “Um.” Aubrey blinked and shot a glance at her father. “Work with me?”

  “Hasn’t Roger told you? I’d like to hire you straight away.” She spoke with the confident tone of someone who’d never been refused. “In fact, I’d like you to start tomorrow.”

  “Start what?”

  “Oh, my. Perhaps I’ll give the two of you a minute.” Mrs. Vanderbright flashed a smile full of perfect pearl-white teeth, and then took Jason’s arm. “Meanwhile, I’d love to speak with my account manager. Do you have a moment, young Mr. Monroe?”

  “For you, Mrs. V., I’ve got all the time in the world.” Jason winked and led the woman away.

  When they were gone, Aubrey held back a sigh. “Dad, what’s going on?”<
br />
  “Well.” He cleared his throat and smiled awkwardly. “Joliet is new in town, and she’s having a home built. And I might have shown her your online portfolio.”

  “Wait a minute,” she said. “She wants me to build a house? You do know I took interior design, right?”

  “Oh, no, it’s nothing like that,” her father said. “She already has a construction firm. In fact, they have the foundation finished and they’re working on the frame…so she tells me. I haven’t seen the place.”

  Aubrey frowned. “So why does she want me?”

  “As a consultant. For…interior things.”

  “Interior things,” she repeated.

  “Joliet says she likes your style.”

  “Oh.” It was harder than she expected to hold back her anger. She knew her father meant well—he’d always wanted the best for both of them, especially after they lost Mom. But she’d left because of the smothering effect of all those good intentions, and coming back to more of the same wasn’t what she’d hoped for.

  She tried to choose her next words carefully. “Thank you,” she said. “I appreciate the vote of confidence. But I have plans for my career, and I still have a lot to do before I can take clients.”

  “Well, that should be fine,” he said. “She won’t mind an informal arrangement.”

  “No, Dad…” This time she couldn’t keep from sighing. “I don’t think you understand,” she said. “I can’t take this project. I’m just not ready yet.”

  The hurt look on his face got to her, the way it always did. “Joliet will be so disappointed,” her father said. “She’s a big client of the bank’s, you know. When she came to this area a few months ago, she transferred everything over to us.”

  Damn it, she did not want to feel guilty about this. Despite all of her resolutions to be strong and independent, to stand up to her family, she could already feel herself caving. Still, she tried again. “I really don’t think I’m what she’s looking for. I’m just not equipped to handle a big project yet.”

  He shook his head. “Really, Aubrey, it’s just consulting. And she already loves your work.”

  She made herself count to ten before responding. “All right,” she said. “I’ll do it. But you have to promise not to hire me out to anyone else without asking first. Okay?”

  “It’s a promise.” He smiled and hugged her. “I think this will be a great experience for you,” he said. “Joliet is very influential. With her recommendation, you’ll have all the work you can handle.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” she said with a smirk.

  Her father drew back, and she thought there were tears in his eyes. “I’m just so proud of you,” he said. “And your mother…” He trailed off and looked away. “She would be, too.”

  The lump in her throat kept her from responding—but it wasn’t just sadness. She was a tiny bit angry, and more than a little frustrated. While she was away, she’d finally gotten a handle on her grief over losing her mother. She’d realized her father and brother’s unending fury over the accident had prevented her from mourning. Being away from the toxic atmosphere had given her perspective. She was finally able to think of her mother with fond memories, instead of the aching sorrow she could never let out.

  But apparently, the rest of her family still wasn’t ready to move on.

  “Well,” her father said, pulling himself together. “I was going to call Joliet over, but it seems she’s on the way.”

  Aubrey looked. The lady approached with a dazzling smile, and Jason still hanging on her arm. “You must have spoken by now,” Mrs. Vanderbright said as she swooped in. “Tell me you’ve agreed, dear. I simply must have your services. Your tastes are exquisite.”

  In spite of herself, Aubrey smiled. “Well, if you insist,” she said.

  “Oh, I do. This is wonderful news.” The woman beamed and clapped her hands together. “And you’ll start tomorrow? You can meet my crew at the site.”

  “Tomorrow?” she said. “That’s Saturday.”

  “Yes. My crew is very industrious.”

  “I guess they are,” Aubrey said. “All right, I’ll be there tomorrow.”

  “Perfect.” Mrs. Vanderbright opened her purse and produced a buff-colored envelope. “We’re on schedule to finish in two months,” she said. “I’d like you there every day with the crew. This is the address, and your consultation fee.”

  Aubrey took the envelope slowly. “You knew I’d agree?”

  “I hoped you would, dear.” Mrs. Vanderbright reached out and patted her hand. “I know good people when I meet them,” she said. “And I’d never hire anything less.”

  “Of course,” she murmured.

  “We’ll be in touch.” The woman winked. “Now, there seems to be a party going on here. Shall we join it?”

  “Excellent idea,” Roger said. “Aubrey, have you said hello to the Deavers yet? I think you went to school with their oldest daughter.”

  “Oh, yes…probably.” What she really needed was a moment to herself—and a drink. “I’ll catch up with you guys in a minute,” she said. “I’m just going to use the bathroom.”

  “Sure. You remember where it is?”

  “I’m good.”

  She watched the three of them head for the bulk of the party, and decided to peek in the envelope before she hit the bar. Might as well find out how much she was getting paid for being railroaded into this. Inside was a small card with an address written in elegant script, and a personal check made out to her.

  For fifty thousand dollars.

  It was all she could do not to scream. She almost wanted to bring the check to Mrs. V and point out that there must be an extra zero on it. Fifty thousand for two months’ work—that was more than she’d hoped to make in a year. She could replace her car, put a down payment on a permanent office for a business, and still have plenty left over.

  Still reeling a bit, she stuffed the envelope in her pocket and headed for the bar. She could definitely afford a drink or two, or three.

  * * * *

  If there was one place Mark Dawson wanted to be right now, it was anywhere but The Klinker. The town bar held about as much appeal as hitting himself in the face with a hammer. He would’ve insisted on staying home, except he sort of owed Gage one.

  And speaking of his younger brother, Gage seemed determined to find his last nerve and get on it tonight.

  “Hey, what about Lisa Pollack?” Gage nudged him as the four of them made their way across the crowded bar toward the pool tables. “I happen to know she’s available, and she prefers dark, brooding jerks like you.”

  “Gage. I don’t need a hookup.”

  “You sure about that?” he said. “Because for a guy who’s supposed to be celebrating, you look pretty damned uptight.”

  Mark stared at him. “This is my happy face.”

  “Okay, bro.” Laughing, Gage held up a hand in surrender. “How about you, Jonah? Want me to find some girl who’s crazy enough to—”

  One look from the eldest Dawson silenced Gage mid-sentence. He let out a sigh. “Fine,” he said. “I guess we’ll just play pool.”

  “Looks like we might not do that either.” Mark frowned as they reached the back, only to find every pool table occupied. “Why’s this dump so packed tonight, anyway?”

  “Could be that.” Reese Mathers—an honorary Dawson boy, since he was engaged to their little sister—pointed toward the big room that the place rented out for special occasions. It was full of people, and there was a huge WELCOME HOME banner strung above the entrance.

  Oh, good. Another of Covendale’s finest, choosing to come back to this awful excuse for a town so everyone could make a big fuss over them. But since Mark didn’t really care who it was, the only thing that concerned him was finding a table in this mess.

  Jonah spent a few minutes scanning the pool tables, and then seemed to find something he was looking for. “Wait here,” he said, heading for one nearby that was currently o
ccupied.

  “Jonah, what are you doing?” Mark said.

  “Getting a table.”

  “Don’t.”

  His older brother flashed a rare smile. “Relax,” he said. “This isn’t business.”

  “Oh, that makes me feel better,” Mark murmured. “You have a plan that doesn’t involve breaking anyone, right?”

  “Sure I do.”

  Frowning slightly, he watched Jonah approach a small group of college-looking kids who had a game in progress. He spoke to one of them briefly and pointed toward the back door of the place. The kid said something, and Jonah nodded. Then the kid grinned, gathered up his friends, and left.

  “Damn, he’s good,” Gage said, clapping Reese on the shoulder. “Come on. I call first shot.”

  Mark sighed and followed the two younger men to the table. At least it looked like Jonah hadn’t attracted too much attention to them—yet. He’d really prefer to get through tonight without a fight, or having to bail anyone out from jail. Thankfully, Gage had calmed down some since he’d gotten serious with Kyla.

  But nothing would ever change the old Dawson reputation.

  When Mark got there, Gage was giving him that look. “Whatever it is, the answer’s no,” he said.

  “Man, why does everybody do that to me?” Gage rolled his eyes. “I was just gonna say, you should get us a pitcher. This is a party, right?”

  He shrugged. “I still don’t know why we’re not saving the party until we’re finished.”

  “Hey. We need to celebrate the little things.”

  “I guess.”

  “Come on, Mark.” For just a second, Gage looked serious. “You busted your ass to land this job, and we’re actually ahead of schedule. You deserve a night off to relax.”

  “And this is relaxing.”

  “Yep.” He grinned. “Now go get us some beer.”

  “Asshole.”

  “Beer bitch.”