by Jamie Begley
Jo had no time for being sick. Aly had kept her promise to take her to court for the money her father had owed. The official letter was still sitting on her coffee table, where she had left it to motivate her. She only had until January fifth to pay the outstanding balance. If it wasn’t paid, a lean would be placed on the property, or worse. The judge could order her father’s property be sold to pay the money back.
Reaching for a pen and paper, she wrote out her expenses, cutting and slashing what she could to come up with the money.
Tired, she closed her eyes. She tried to force them open until she could tabulate the columns of numbers. However, the pencil slowly slid from her grasp as both pencil and paper fell to the floor.
Jo whimpered in her sleep, feeling like she was on fire. She kicked her foot out to kick the thick covers off.
“Shh … Go back to sleep.”
As cold water was placed at her lips, she opened her eyes.
“What are you doing here?” Jo winced at the raw tinge of pain she felt when she spoke. Taking a long drink of the iced water, she would have drunk it all, but Rider pulled it back, making her take small sips.
“Knox got worried when you didn’t answer his call, so I volunteered to come check on you. It’s a good thing I did. Your fever is over 102.”
Jo tried to move the glass of water away with her hand while trying to sit up in bed. “I need to get back to work.”
“You’re not going anywhere. Train borrowed your truck to answer Knox’s call. He’s also going to make your rounds, so you can relax and go back to sleep.”
“Train can’t operate that truck. It’s a complex machine, not like a regular truck.”
“Train can land a helicopter during a sandstorm or as bombs go off; I think he can handle your tow truck.”
Jo felt tears of frustration at her inability to get out of bed and to kick both his and Train’s asses for doing what she should be able to do herself.
“Why are you crying?” Rider lifted her, giving her tablets to take before giving her another drink of water.
“Because I feel bad.”
“You’re crying because you’re sick?”
“Yes. I’m never sick, and this couldn’t be a worse time to be sick.”
“You told Lily over a week ago you were sick, and that was why you couldn’t visit her.”
“I lied. God’s paying me back.”
“God’s not making you sick to pay you back. The flu has half the people in town in bed. Mick had to close the bar late last night he was so bad.”
“Mick is sick?” Jo tried to get out of bed again. “I need to go check on him.”
“Beth is with him. He’s in better shape than you are, and he’s twice your age.”
Jo cried harder. “That doesn’t make me feel any better.”
Rider pushed her back down on the bed. “Jo, you’re exhausted. You’ve been working yourself to the bone for the last six months. The flu took the last reserves you had left.”
“I just need a couple hours. When I wake up, I’ll feel better.” She took the washcloth out of Rider’s hand and scrubbed her tear-soaked cheeks.
“Unfortunately, Dr. Price disagrees. He was here two days ago—”
“I’ve been sleeping for two days?” Jo’s screech ended in a spasm of coughing that had Rider reaching for a bottle of cough syrup.
“Take this,” he said, pouring a spoonful.
She took it only because she had no alternative if she wanted to breathe.
It took several minutes for her coughing to settle. Lying back on the pillows Rider had punched up for her, she sighed in defeat.
“I’m sick.”
“No shit, Sherlock.”
“Gloating is very unbecoming in a man,” she mused, tucking the blankets tighter around herself.
“Is it? I’ll have to remember that. I gloat a lot.” He smiled as he gathered the empty glass and dirty spoon to take to the kitchen.
She dozed off when he was gone, waking during the night with the urgent need to go to the bathroom.
She threw her covers off and was trying to rise when an arm around her waist tugged her back down.
Screaming bloody murder, she struck out in the dark, striking something squishy that had her cringing in disgust.
“Goddammit! Stop screaming, Jo. It’s me.” Rider turned the light on, nearly blinding her with the suddenness of stark brightness.
Jo gaped at a shirtless Rider sitting on her bed under the same cover she had been under.
“You have two seconds to explain why you’re in my bed.”
When his lips opened, she changed her mind.
“Forget it. I don’t care. Get out!” she screamed, pointing a finger at the door.
Rider moved his hand away from his rapidly swelling eye to stare at her. “There isn’t anywhere else to sleep.”
“You can sleep on the couch. Or better yet, you can go home. I’m sure you have numerous beds to sleep in there.”
“The snow’s over thirteen inches outside, and Train is sleeping on the couch. I’m not going to wake him when he just got to sleep. He hits harder than you do.”
Jo wobbled out of bed, going to the window. The lamppost in the middle of the yard showed her how massively high the snow was outside.
Jo laid her forehead on the cold window. “Only I would get sick on one of the few money-making days of the year. Do you know how much money I’m missing out on by being home?”
Rider searched through the covers on the bed, coming up with a familiar yellow pad of paper. “I don’t have to guess. I know.”
Jo went to her bed, snatching the pad out of his hand. “This is none of your business.”
“I made it my business when I found it … and the letter stating Aly is suing you.”
“I need to go to the bathroom.” Jo needed time to think.
“Then go.”
Swearing under her breath, she went into the bathroom, used it, and then brushed her teeth, unable to bear the taste in her mouth.
She was getting about to get back under the covers, so focused on what she was going to say that she forgot to order him out of her bed.
“Get out! Go sleep with Train. Or, better yet, walk home.” Yawning, she climbed under her blanket, tugging the majority of them away from Rider. Then she stopped when she became worried he might be naked. “You better be wearing pants.” Glowering at him, she tossed half an inch back toward him.
“I found a pair of your father’s pajama bottoms.”
“You went in my parents’ bedroom? Is there any part of my house you didn’t snoop around in?” Coughing, she reached for the cough syrup. Not seeing the spoon, she opened it and simply took a large drink.
“That’s prescription strength.”
Ignoring his warning, she took another sip for good measure.
“I want to go to sleep.”
“Then go to sleep. I’m not stopping you.” He settled back on the bed, turning the light off.
“Are you being serious?” She felt her forehead in the dark. Was she more feverous than she had thought? Was she delirious and didn’t know it?
“I’ve been taking care of you for the last three days. I’m tired. The roads are too bad for me to leave. If you don’t want to sleep here, you can go sleep on the couch with Train. He sleeps like a rock, so he probably won’t know you’re there. On the other hand, Killyama might kill ya if Train tells her. The fucker couldn’t keep a secret if he tried.”
Despite herself, Jo snuggled back under the covers. She couldn’t remember the last time her house was this warm. Even the bed felt toasty. Either that or that cough syrup was stronger than she had thought.
“Keep to your side of the bed.” Her eyelids felt like they weighed a thousand pounds each. She groggily tried to lift them, then decided she was better off with them closed when she heard Rider shifting on the mattress.
“Don’t worry; I’m not anxious to catch your flu cooties.”
“
I don’t have cooties. I brushed my teeth.” Her eyelids flew open at her words. It had made her seem like she wanted him to kiss her.
“I’ll take your word for it. Unlike you, I’m not asexual. Unlike you, Train will deck me if I try to share the couch.”
“I’m not asexual,” she admitted, snuggling back onto the mattress. She didn’t know why she was admitting it to him in the middle of the night, when he was inches away from her in the bed. Only that, if she died from the flu in her sleep, she didn’t want to carry that lie to her grave.
“I’ll keep that in mind for when you’re feeling better. Night, Jo.”
She was asleep before the last two words were out of his mouth, sinking into the mattress she’d had since she was a teenager. The indentations worn through time curved around her.
Subconsciously, she slipped into a deep slumber, knowing she was safe and warm, listening to the sounds of the night, twigs breaking from the weight of the snow, the floorboards creaking. After her father’s death, she had jumped at every sound in fear. It was easier to get sounder sleep in her truck than her bed.
With Rider beside her, she didn’t have those fears and could find a deep sleep, subliminally aware of the gentle hand going to her forehead, checking for fever, or soothing her when her body was racked with spasms of shivers, pulling her close to share his body heat with her.
Consciousness tried to beckon her forward. Not experiencing the tender touches from another human being since she was a small child, she resisted the pull. In her fever-induced haze, it wasn’t another Christmas night that she wouldn’t have to spend alone. As Christmas presents go, she hadn’t asked for Rider, but when given this particular present, it was better not to ask God why, and just enjoy.
24
Jo wrinkled her nose under the covers. Poking her head out, she sniffed. Her stomach growled at the aroma.
It took her several seconds before she could get her wobbly legs under control as she got out of bed. Finding her robe, she put it on, knotting it around her waist. It was when she was slipping her house shoes on that she realized the floorboards were warm, not giving her the cold rush of reality she usually dealt with most mornings.
She took the time to brush her hair before leaving her bedroom.
Her eyes went around the living room, finding it empty and Rider in the kitchen doing the dishes. The smell coming from the stove had her moving forward, seeing Rider watching her in amusement as she stood over the steaming pot.
“It’s chicken soup. Rachel dropped it off with the cough syrup Greer sent over.”
Jo spotted the bottle sitting on the kitchen counter. Picking it up, she saw it was blacker and thicker than the one she had found in the medicine cabinet.
“Rachel said to only take a small sip every four hours.”
“Uh … no. I’d rather die.”
Rider laughed. “I can’t say I blame you. Rachel told me how Greer makes it. You’re better off with the prescription Dr. Price gave you.” Rider moved her to the side when she sniffed the soup again. “Sit down. I’ll fix you a bowl.”
Jo eagerly went to sit at the small table to the side of the kitchen. Pushing the curtain aside, she looked outside, telling Rider, “I need three bottles of it. That stuff was the bomb. I don’t remember anything after I took it.”
“That was the codeine in it,” he said, setting a steaming bowl of soup down in front of her.
“You’re not having any?” Jo swirled the homemade noodles in the broth with her spoon, then took an appreciative taste, savoring the flavors.
Glancing up, she caught a strange expression on Rider’s face.
“I’m hungry,” she excused, self-consciously taking a smaller bite.
“You’re very expressive when you eat.”
“I am? I like it.” She shrugged. “We have something in common. I like to eat, too.”
“Most people do.”
She was about to take another bite of her food when she realized her truck was gone. “Where’s—”
“Train and Moon went on a call. The brothers are fighting to see who can go with him next.”
“No one. I’m going to shower, and then I can take over again—”
“No, you can’t. You’re still running a high temperature. You’re not going anywhere for at least a week, and that’s only if Dr. Price gives you a clean bill of health.”
“It’s not up to you.”
“We’ll talk after you finish your soup.”
“There isn’t anything to talk about … at least where my work is concerned. What I want to talk about now is how my furnace is working.”
“You were too sick to be left alone, and I couldn’t take my balls freezing off, so Train fixed it.”
“Is there anything Train can’t do?”
“I may have been exaggerating about him flying in a sandstorm.”
Jo had to hide her smile by taking another spoonful of soup.
“I don’t know how he managed it. I’ve been saving up for another furnace.”
“Save yourself the money. It would be cheaper to bulldoze your house down and start over.”
“That’s not nice.”
“The truth hurts. You’re a big girl. I think you’ll be all right.” Taking her empty bowl, he refilled it before sitting down at the table across from her.
She knew he was waiting for her to finish eating before he said anything else. Contrarily, she took her time, savoring each bite until his eyes narrowed on her suspiciously.
“Even if you eat the whole pot of soup, you’re not going to get out of what I want to talk to you about.”
“There’s nothing to discuss, other than how much I owe Train for working for me and fixing my furnace and stove.”
“I fixed the stove. Your wiring is shit. You blew a fuse. And save yourself the trouble from adding to the list of bills to be paid.” Rider stood, going to the living room, then returning with her yellow pad and the letter saying she had to appear in court. Rider then fixed himself a cup of coffee and her a glass of juice before sitting back down.
Her appetite deserted her when he set the pad down on the table.
“I’d rather have the juice.”
“You’ll be lucky if you keep the juice down.”
“You fixed my fridge, too?”
“It was on the same circuit breaker.”
Jo wanted to bury her face in her hands, embarrassed that she hadn’t been able to fix something so simple. “I didn’t think to look. My dad usually took care of things like that.”
“You would have figured it out if you hadn’t been driving yourself to the point of exhaustion to pay bills you don’t have a chance in hell of paying.”
“I’m making progress.”
“You were until …” Rider pointed to the large sum of money that was what her father had owed Aly’s father. “I take it this is the money Aly is taking you to court for.”
“This isn’t any of your business.”
“It actually is. The money Shade lent you for the tow truck was company money, and I’m one of the owners of the company. The Last Riders wouldn’t have lent you that money if they had known the extent of your debts.”
The soup she had just eaten threatened to come back up. Taking a drink of her juice, she forced it back down.
“Let’s see if you can be more honest with me than you were with Shade.” Rider trailed his finger over to the name of the month she had written down with the figure. “Is this when you found out about your father’s debt? Or did you know before?”
“I didn’t know about it before,” she croaked out.
He trailed his finger down the columns of numbers. “I don’t see you paying any of Aly’s debt off but here.” Rider pointed to where she had crossed out several bills that she was going to ignore in order to make a payment to Aly. “Why were you trying to come up with the money the day before Clint was born when you knew about the loan your father owed since Aly came to town?”
“Rider,
I’m not feeling well. I need to go back to bed.” She shakily started to get up.
“Sit.”
Jo’s butt hit the chair, although she wanted to go back to her bedroom and bury herself under the covers until he left.
“We couldn’t come to an agreement on how to pay the money back. That’s why she’s taking me to court.”
“How did you originally think you could pay her back? You only started to find the money last week.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me. Depending on your answer, I’m going to help you out of this mess.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“You’d rather lose your home and business than accept help from me?”
She stared out the window. To anyone who came into the yard, they would just see old cars stacked on top of each other, but it meant a lot to her. Some of those cars had been put there by her grandfather. She could even remember when the old blue Ford was stacked on the red L.T.D. with the white vinyl roof that was placed on top of it by her father.
“What do you want to know?”
“Explain.” Rider pointed to the large sum she owed Aly.
“Aly wanted me to pay the loan back other than by using money. I agreed at first, because I didn’t have the money to pay it back.”
“How did she want you to pay it back?”
“By getting me to convince you to go after Curt Dawkins.” She felt so ashamed of her actions. She didn’t expect Rider to speak to her ever again. When he told The Last Riders, they would all hate her, too.
“How did Aly think you would accomplish that?”
Jo flushed, keeping her eyes on the window. “Not by using sex—I wouldn’t have agreed to that—but by trying to get you to like me. I mean, in a romantic sense.”
“I know what you meant.”
Her flush deepened at his sardonic jibe. She felt foolish for ever having agreed to Aly’s plan.
