Dawson's Fall (Welcome to Covendale #5)

by Morgan Blaze

  Mark smirked and headed for the bar. He actually didn’t mind—and for once, he sort of agreed with Gage. They all deserved a night off, even if they had to work in the morning. Convincing Joliet Vanderbright to hire them on hadn’t been easy, but now they had the most lucrative contract he’d ever scored. And when they finished early, there’d be a massive bonus.

  He couldn’t make this town respect his family, but they were damned well going to respect his business.

  The bar was just as crowded as the rest of the place. He pushed his way through and saw both full-time bartenders working the counter alongside the owner, Jim Wyatt.

  All three of them proceeded to ignore him.

  He waited a good five minutes before he got really pissed. Just as he was about to start shouting, he saw a woman make her way up to the bar a few feet down from him—and Jim Wyatt immediately heading for her with a smile.

  Jaw clenched, he broke away to head for the bar owner and his preferred client. “Hey, Wyatt,” he called angrily as he neared them. “Do I need to grow some tits to get a beer in this place, or should I just change my last name? I’ve been standing there for—”

  The rant died in his mouth when the woman turned a shocked expression on him. “Mark?” she said. “Oh my God…Mark Dawson?”

  Goddamn it. Well, now he knew who the big, ridiculous party was for. And there went eight years of hoping this moment never happened.

  Aubrey Monroe was more beautiful—and more off-limits—than ever.

  Chapter 2

  Apparently the Dawsons hadn’t left town after all.

  For what felt like forever, Aubrey couldn’t do anything but stare. If she ever did see Mark again, she’d kind of expected…well, not this. A receding hairline, a few missing teeth, maybe a beer belly, and toss in a dirty baseball cap for good measure. Her face burned as she realized she was thinking in stereotypes, going along with the general town theory that the Dawsons were just a bunch of white trash.

  But Mark was a hell of a lot more man than anyone she’d seen around here lately. Same green eyes and dark hair, with extra muscle and tan. And a whole lot of fury.

  The way he looked at her, like he’d just read her mind, made her want to find a rock somewhere and crawl under it. Then she realized he might not even recognize her. If he’d really been waiting at the bar forever, and she’d walked right up and got service, maybe he was just pissed off about that. “Um. We went to school together,” she managed to say. “Class of—”

  “I know damned well who you are.” His voice was low and tight, like the idea of speaking to her disgusted him. “I take it you’re not just here for a visit,” he said. “Moving back home?”

  “How did you…oh.” She’d practically forgotten about the party, and the big stupid banner. “Yes, I’m here for good,” she said. “Not home, but in town.”

  “Of course you are. Things were just starting to look up for me.”

  She decided to ignore that as best she could. “So, what are you doing here?”

  “Really? You’re making small talk?” He folded his arms, and she couldn’t help noticing how big they were. “Well, I’m obviously not drinking beer.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “Look, I’ll tell Jim to…” She trailed off as she realized the bar owner had made himself scarce, and the people around them had pulled away. Great, now she was making a scene. If she didn’t stop this soon, it would make its way back to her father and brother—and then there’d be real trouble. “I, er, have to go,” she said.

  “Without your drink?”

  “I’m not thirsty,” she said faintly, taking a step back.

  “You sure about that?” He moved forward with a sneer. “I think you just don’t want to be seen talking to me.”

  “I…”

  He lowered his arms, and his hands clenched into fists. “All this time, and you haven’t changed a bit,” he said. “And by the way? That’s not a compliment.”

  After a brief, penetrating stare, he turned abruptly and pushed through the crowd.

  Aubrey shivered and blinked, then turned back to the bar, where Jim Wyatt had magically reappeared with the drink she’d ordered. Part of her wanted to be angry about that, but she was still in shock. And she really wasn’t thirsty anymore.

  Maybe coming back to Covendale wasn’t such a great idea. She could’ve set up shop anywhere she wanted to. Someplace without a past that wanted to drag her down. But for now, she was more or less stuck. She had an apartment with a lease, and she’d just been railroaded into accepting a fifty-thousand-dollar job.

  Well, she’d just have to avoid Mark Dawson until the job was done. Then if things weren’t any better, she could pick up and leave.

  She left the drink on the bar without a word to Jim and headed back to the party room, hoping that people weren’t talking in here. Everything seemed normal. She spotted Jason and made her way toward him with a reasonable expression.

  “Hey, sis,” he said. “Did everything come out okay?”

  “What do you mean?” she blurted. “I’m fine. Nothing happened.”

  He frowned. “Did I miss something? I didn’t think there was much going on in the bathroom.”

  “Oh. Right.” She’d completely forgotten that’s where she said she was going. “Well, you know how girls are,” she said. “They go in packs, so it was pretty crowded.”

  Too late. He was already suspicious—she could see it in his eyes. “What’s going on, Bree?” he said.

  “Nothing,” she said. “I just wanted a drink, but I didn’t get one.”

  “Well, I’ll grab you one. What are you having?”

  “It’s fine. I’ll get one later.” She smiled and looked around the room. Anywhere but out into the rest of the bar. “Where’s Dad?”

  “He walked Mrs. V. to her car.” Jason’s eyes narrowed a touch. “Look, are you sure you don’t want a drink?” he said. “Because I think I’m going to get one.”

  “No, wait. It’s really crowded out there, and—”

  A burst of shouting came from the main bar room, and Aubrey’s stomach dropped. She couldn’t tell whose voice it was. But somehow, she knew their father must’ve run into Mark.

  Jason turned slowly toward the sound. His expression shifted from surprise to rage in an instant. “Son of a bitch,” he said, and shot her a sharp look. “Those scumbags said something to you, didn’t they?”

  Scumbags, plural? Oh, God. That had to mean all the Dawson boys were here. And if Jason confronted them, they’d probably mop the floor with him. “No one said anything,” she said. “Just drop it, okay? We don’t need to get into this tonight.”

  Her brother glared at her. “Yeah, well I don’t think they got the memo,” he said. “The big one is in Dad’s face.”

  She looked—and saw Jonah Dawson looming over her father, with Mark and the younger one, Gage, right behind him.

  “I swear to God, I’ll…” Jason stopped himself with effort, then pivoted and strode toward the fight. Aubrey rushed after him, already reaching for her phone.

  She only hoped the sheriff’s office was responding a little faster these days, or someone was about to get hurt.

  * * * *

  Mark wasted no time when he got back to the pool table. “Party’s over. Let’s go.”

  “What the—” Gage let out a sharp sigh. “Jonah, I told you to take the stick out of his ass before we left the house.”

  “We’re leaving, Gage.” He pointed to the banner. “That’s the Monroes.”

  “So what? Last I checked, they don’t own the bar.”

  “Shut up,” Jonah said. Then he looked at Mark. “You serious?”

  He nodded. “The daughter’s back.”

  “Great.” Frowning, Jonah started to gather the pool cues. “All right,” he said. “Time to go, boys.”

  “Seriously? I am so not leaving.” Gage folded his arms and leaned on the table. “You guys go if you want to, but I call bullshit. We’ve got every righ
t to be here.”

  “Like it or not, you’re coming with us,” Jonah said. “Don’t argue.”

  “I can’t believe you two are just going to pick up and leave.”

  “You.”

  The guttural voice was right behind Mark. He turned fast, and found himself facing Roger Monroe himself. At least the man didn’t have a gun on him this time. But he looked ready to take a swing—which somehow seemed just as bad, because it wasn’t like Mark could defend himself. Unless he wanted to start calling a prison cell home.

  “You Dawsons have a lot of nerve showing up here.” Monroe’s eyes were wide enough to show white all the way around. “Especially you. Think I’m going to let you anywhere near my daughter, you bastard?” His voice rose until he screamed the last few words.

  Suddenly Jonah was between them, staring the older man down. “We don’t want any trouble, Monroe,” he said calmly. “Just take it easy.”

  “Get the hell out of here, you bunch of animals.”

  Mark grabbed Gage by the arm just as he tensed to lunge. “Don’t do it,” he said in low tones. “Who’s going to end up behind bars if you do? You know it won’t be him.”

  “Did you hear what he called us?”

  “Yes.” He’d heard it before, and worse, but Gage didn’t know that. Neither of the younger ones knew what happened that night—and he’d never told Jonah why the man came after him in the first place. They’d had other things to deal with.

  “We were just leaving.” Jonah’s voice had a cold edge to it. “But right now, you’re in the way.”

  Mark recognized the threat in his brother’s tone and knew he wouldn’t hesitate to follow through if Monroe didn’t back off. He also knew the older man wasn’t going to move. So he stepped around Jonah to deal with it.

  And walked directly into Jason Monroe’s fist.

  “Don’t!” Even as the taste of blood filled his mouth, he reached back and snagged Jonah’s wrist. He couldn’t physically stop his older brother if Jonah really wanted to keep going, but he hoped to make him pause a minute. Just long enough to get out of here. “Gage, I mean it,” he called, knowing how ready he was to hit something. “Outside. Now.”

  As his brothers and Reese filed past behind him, he caught Jason trying for another blow. He managed to get an arm up and block it. “You really want to do this?” he said tightly. “Because I don’t see your friends around to get in my way this time.”

  “Mark, stop it!”

  Aubrey’s voice hurt a hell of a lot more than his aching jaw. She came up beside Jason, and he glared at her as he lowered his arm. “You want me to stop.”

  “I called the sheriff,” she said in trembling tones.

  “Of course you did.” He could barely get the words out. “Well, when he gets here, you make sure to send him after the real bad guy,” he said. “You know. The one who didn’t touch any of you.”

  He spat blood on the floor, and walked out after his brothers.

  Mark didn’t dare breathe until he got outside. If he did, he was going to lose it. He’d never been so furious in his life. It was bad enough this had happened before—Jason attacking, and Aubrey telling him to stop.

  It was even worse that he’d actually done it. Again.

  He headed over to where they’d parked, hands stuffed in his pockets. Jonah was the only one there. He must’ve sent Gage home with Reese to keep him from going back in there, before their hotheaded little brother could get himself arrested. It was a good call.

  But Jonah looked like he wasn’t finished fighting, either.

  “You okay?” he rumbled when Mark reached him.

  “Fine,” he said. “But she called Tanner, so we need to move.”

  “Something you want to tell me?”

  “No.”

  “Mark…I heard what Monroe said.”

  “So did the whole damned bar.” He had to physically hold himself back from taking a swing at Jonah. “What are you trying to say?”

  Jonah stared at him for a long moment. Finally, he said, “Nothing. Let’s go.”

  As Mark got in the car, he thought there wasn’t anywhere he could go that was far enough away from Aubrey Monroe.

  Chapter 3

  It was almost noon before Aubrey convinced herself to go to the address Mrs. Vanderbright had given her. After last night, she wanted nothing more than to put this town in her rearview mirror forever.

  But she had to admit, she’d feel a lot better doing that with fifty grand in her pocket.

  At the bar, she’d insisted on talking to the sheriff alone, since she’d been the one to call. Her father and brother weren’t thrilled about that. But she wasn’t going to send the law after Mark—after all, Jason had hit him first. And he didn’t even hit back.

  Staying in Covendale would be hell, just knowing Mark was around somewhere. With all the tension between their families, it was going to take several lifetimes to put it behind them. Still, she’d decided to stick to the original plan. Avoid him, do the job, and then get out. She could make a fresh start somewhere else.

  She found the place easily enough. The site was at the edge of town, on a gorgeous lot with a wide expanse of lawn and plenty of old trees. They’d already erected the frame, and she could see the house would be incredible. Of course, the front yard wasn’t in the best shape right now, but that happened during construction. Once it was landscaped, it would be perfect.

  She parked behind a dark blue sedan at the curb and got out, studying the scene for a moment. A small silver trailer sat near the sidewalk, and there was a folding table with four chairs on the grass next to it. That must be the onsite office. On the whole, the place wasn’t exactly crawling with workers. She could see one figure on a ladder working near the roof, and another way back in the frame.

  Maybe they used a skeleton crew on the weekends. It was a fairly hot day, so not many people would want to work outside in this. Even for overtime.

  She headed for the trailer, and stopped when a pile of two-by-fours started emerging from behind it. Soon the man carrying them was visible—shirtless and heavily muscled, tanned skin glowing with sweat. He was looking toward the house, and she didn’t want to startle him. So she waited.

  He carried the lumber to an oversized wheelbarrow and loaded it in, then grabbed a t-shirt that was draped over one of the handles and mopped the back of his neck. Without turning, he stretched his arms over his head. Aubrey tried not to notice the way his muscles rippled, even though she was practically drooling.

  She decided it had been way too long since her last experience with sexual gratification, and she probably needed a cold shower.

  Finally, the man turned her way. She actually opened her mouth to say hello—and felt the friendly smile on her face freeze as Mark Dawson’s green eyes drilled into her.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” He threw the shirt on the ground and stalked toward her, and she backed away fast. His lip was bruised where Jason had hit him, so that wicked sneer he was sporting must’ve hurt. “This is private property,” he said, stopping scant feet from her. “If you’re looking to get some more kicks in, you’ll have to catch me in public.”

  “Oh, God,” she said. “You work for the company.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The crew. The contractors Mrs. Vanderbright hired,” she stammered. “You work for them.”

  “Look, sweetheart. I don’t know what you’ve got to do with Mrs. V., but I don’t work for anybody.” His sneer deepened, and he pointed angrily at the trailer. “I am the goddamned company. And you’re on my job site, so leave.”

  Aubrey followed his gesture, and finally noticed the small words stenciled on the front of the trailer. Dawson Construction.

  “No.” She shook her head and took another step back, feeling like she’d just swallowed a mouthful of sludge. This was absolutely not happening. “You can’t be the contractor,” she said. “Mrs. Vanderbright hired a crew. She told me.”

  “That
would be my brothers,” he said. “My crew. So whatever you think you’re doing—”

  “She hired me,” Aubrey said. “Last night. I’m an interior designer, and she hired me to work with her…with the crew.”

  Mark went very still. “What?”

  “I’m supposed to work here.” She tried to swallow, but the rawness in her throat remained. “Until the house is finished.”

  “No.”

  “Hey, I didn’t know she’d hired you. I didn’t even know you were—I mean, that you had a construction company.” The initial shock was finally wearing off, and she could almost breathe again. “But I already agreed to do this, so I guess we’ll have to figure something out.”

  “No.” Mark pulled a phone from his jeans pocket and started dialing.

  “Um. What are you doing?”

  “You are not working with us. Period.” He glared at her as he brought the phone to his ear. “So you might as well leave now. You’re fired.”

  Okay, now she was getting a little angry. “You can’t fire me.”

  “Watch me.” He turned his back on her. A moment later, he said, “Mrs. V.? Yes, it’s Mark Dawson. I’m fine. Listen, we have a—yes. She’s here.” He pivoted slowly, his jaw clenched hard. “No. We don’t need…I understand that. But the plans are already—”

  He fell silent for a long moment. His expression hardened, and then he closed his eyes and put a hand to his forehead. “All right,” he said roughly. “Yes, we’re still on schedule. Right. See you Monday, then.”

  Aubrey frowned. “What was that about?”

  He shoved the phone in his pocket and whirled on her, eyes blazing. “Quit.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. I said quit.”

  “You quit.”

  “Sweetheart, you have no idea what you’re in for.” He moved toward her, but this time she stood her ground. “Maybe I can’t fire you,” he said in the coldest voice she’d ever heard. “But if you stick around, I’m going to make your life so miserable you’ll wish you were never born. So you’d better quit while you can.”

  Every ounce of logic and sanity in her agreed that quitting was a really good idea, and she should do that right now and never look back. But this was her first client, and a whole lot of money—and she was getting the distinct impression that Mark Dawson was not just anti-Monroe, but anti-female. The way he kept calling her sweetheart in that twisted, patronizing tone set her teeth on edge.