She spun back around, jerking open the car door in agitation. Plopping down in the seat, she tugged on the seatbelt out of sheer habit.
Night's hand clenched on her door, preventing her from shutting it. His expression eased, the harsh set to his mouth relaxing into an almost civil appearance. "Well said."
Blinking, she studied him, confused by his rapid change in demeanor. "I'm sorry. You lost me."
The corners of his mouth kicked up. "We'll see you tomorrow morning, Summer. And, for the record, you're doing just fine with Mother."
She watched as he turned, long strides leading back to the house.
Jerk. She couldn't shake the feeling that she somehow passed his little test. With that thought, she pulled out of the driveway, on her way to the next client.
* * * *
"What did she tell you?"
Night looked up at his mother as he shut the front door. Her dark brown eyes sparkled with mischief, a look he knew all too well. "Nothing."
A smirk appeared on the older woman's face. "Told you to mind your own business, huh?"
He snorted.
She chuckled in amusement. "I figured that might be the case. Colton, you can't go through life trying to intimidate information out of everyone you meet."
"It normally works well," he retorted and shook his head. Debating with his mother could be entertaining, but he rarely won. She found examples and loopholes in all his defenses. Hell, she could have been a top-level lawyer with those uncanny skills if she wanted. Instead, she worked menial jobs, putting her dreams aside in order to care for him. He respected her all the more for her tenacity in yanking them both from an abusive relationship, moving halfway across the country, and starting from scratch. Not something any meek or timid woman would do. It only proved she carried all the bravery of her father, a man who served in World War II as one of the infamous Navajo Code Talkers. His grandfather returned home under a rigid vow of silence to the military with its highly classified status. Tragically, he passed away a mere two years later in a farming accident.
Night regretted, not for the first time, the missed opportunity to meet his esteemed and courageous grandfather. The stories he would have loved to hear in his native tongue, just the ability to sit down with the man, a war hero, and hear what wisdom the man had to impart.
He enlisted in the army, wanting to follow in his grandfather's footsteps, or as close as he could get. In a short time, he climbed to the ranks of the prestigious Green Berets. After serving for five years on active duty, toughing out mission after grueling mission, he realized the job no longer appealed to him. Stereotyping and prejudice still existed, though no one with power in the army would ever admit to such a thing. More than once, he fell short of promotion due to his heritage and coloring. For an organization that prided itself on equality, he rarely saw that in action.
Whether it was due to burnout or fatigue or simply needing a new direction in life and being sick of the bias, he resigned his position and decided to enter the private security market. From there, he quickly picked up ideas, tips, and the mechanics of how a business worked. Pulling a couple of strings, he tied his newly formed company to a top official in the government, one with deep pockets and the authority to contract missions. Missions that required elimination of one hidden viper after another while staying well beneath the radar.
The military couldn't be tied to such events, preferring to keep their noses clean with the notion of justice and trials, and using deadly force only when absolutely necessary. His position allowed much more flexibility and leniency, which he passed on to his employees.
Everything he wanted while serving in the miltary now became possible. Wages and hazard pay were well above what a typical solider made. Independence and group decision making held top priority as well the ability to turn down any assignment. By treating his men the way he wanted to be treated, they meshed well, covered one another's backs, became close comrades and friends, and filled their bank accounts for their efforts in dangerous and even suicidal situations. Not a bad life for those that lived on adrenalin.
"Colton? Oh, Colton?"
He glanced up at his mother.
She shook her head. "Daydreaming? Perhaps Summer has piqued your interest after all?"
The mention of Summer's name recalled the image of her standing up to him, her dark eyes flashing with ire, her smaller frame tense, while she rebuked his efforts to delve into her business. No wimpiness in that one. A man could do worse in a woman. "Would you stop already with the matchmaking? I'm not interested in Summer or any other woman right now." He glared at her.
She tsked. "You shouldn't lie to your mother."
With a growl of frustration, he stormed out of the living room, heading directly for his office.
Chapter 6
How could he have been so stupid?
Gary Anthony sidled up to a barstool and gingerly sat down. His ribs and arm still hurt like the devil. At least the black eye had faded to a puke-yellow color. The result of a hired bully's fists.
All because he got cocky and believed he could stash away some of the drug money for himself, thinking his boss wouldn't notice. What was twenty thousand dollars when he dealt with millions every week? Once again, he thought wrong. Not only had Ravini noticed the missing amount, he sent his biggest goon to pass along two lessons. First, you don't screw with Ravini and secondly, he had three days to come up with the missing funds or he would cease to exist. In itself, the loot might not have been an issue, except he already spent the money, gambling it away at one of the high-end casinos, losing every dollar. With no job, no credit, and no assets, any bank he approached would laugh at his loan application. No day work could make up the large difference and robbing a convenience store would only net him a few hundred dollars. He knew that for a fact since he already hit up three stores and barely garnered enough cash for food, bus fare, and a motel room.
He always screwed up. Since childhood, trouble found him, sending him plummeting into a pitfall every time. No matter how hard he tried to stay clean after a short stint in jail for robbery, the lure of riches drew him back. If he could just get his hands on more dough, he could go back to that casino, hit the jackpot, and show those bigwigs how it's done.
Shaking his head, he pushed that thought aside. Poker and roulette put him in this mess. He needed to find a way out before the hourglass emptied, leaving him worth less than a pile of dirt.
"Beer," he called to the barkeep, hoping to get a few under his belt, maybe drink his problems away for one night. If nothing else, he could calm his nerves with a few shots. He would deal with tomorrow when it came.
For the first time he noticed the old man sitting on the stool next to him, nursing his glass of whiskey. Deep wrinkles marred the man's dark face, his gray hair ruffled, tattered clothes stained and smudged. Hispanic or Native American, maybe a mixture, he guessed. He would bet his bottom dollar the guy had a serious drinking problem.
"Damn woman." The man slurred beside him, wobbling on the seat.
Gary tossed down a few dollars for his bottle before lifting it to his lips. "I hear ya." Poor old guy, probably dumped by a cheating wife, having lost everything in the divorce. Wasn't the first time such a thing happened. Hell, he'd never married, but still found himself on the shafted end of more than one relationship. "All they want is money," he added, speaking his thoughts out loud.
"Money. I gave her everything. Jewelry. Riches. House. She kept… kept… has all that. I got nothin'. Nothin'." He slammed his fist down on the counter, listing to the left.
Gary reached out to steady the man then turned to face him. Jewelry? Riches? A plan began to formulate in his head. "You said she screwed you over? Kept all the goods?" He prodded, needing more information from the half-drunk man.
"Yeah. Has all. I got… nothin'. She… wedding necklace… gold nugget… diamond." He spit with each word before reaching for his glass of alcohol, the hand shaking noticeably. Managing to take a d
eep swallow, he set it back down again with a clang.
"How much would you say all that stuff is worth?" Gary leaned in close, making sure not to be overheard. It wouldn't do for anyone to realize his intentions and kick the old man to the curb before he pumped him for information or, even worse, send him packing with the cops.
The man lifted his head, deep blue cloudy eyes met his before his chin dipped once more. "Hundreds…"
Anthony's shoulders sank. "Hundreds?" That wasn't even a drop in the bucket.
"Hundreds… thousands. Quarter… mil."
Blinking, Anthony grasped the man's shoulder, giving him a small shake. "A quarter million dollars?"
"Yeah. She has it. I got… nothin'."
This was the answer to his problem! For the first time in a while Gary felt the world right itself. The solution sat on the stool beside him. All he had to do was prod the guy until he told him more information. A name, address, spare key location. He would take anything he could get. Break into the house, steal the items, and take them to an acquaintance that sold questionable possessions on the black market for top dollar. The resulting cash, he would use to pay back Ravini and keep the rest for himself. Perhaps move to a tropical island. Retire.
"Hey, old man, what's her name?"
"Felina. My Felina. Did everything for her. Got nothing."
Anthony committed the first name to memory. He tried to get the guy to focus. "What's her last name? Same as yours? She remarry?"
The man broke into deep coughs. When they passed, he leaned heavily on the bar.
Determined not to let the golden opportunity slip away, Gary squeezed the man's arm. "What's her full name?"
"Felina… Ken… sing… ton," he managed to get out in between pants, trying to catch his air.
"Felina Kensington?"
"Yeah. I got nothing…"
"Where does she live?"
"River…" The word barely came out.
His eyebrows furrowed. He pressed for more, nearly yelling in the man's ear. "River what?"
Sitting up a bit, the man emptied his glass in one swallow, setting the empty glass down clumsily. "River… Gulch."
"River Gulch." Gary mimicked.
"Noth…" The old man's head plunked on the counter, his eyes closed.
Gary shook his head, snarling with frustration. Damn drunk passed out. He grabbed a napkin, scribbling the name and city on it. Now what was he going to do?
Taking a gulp of his beer, he headed toward the exit, running ideas through his head. His motel surely had a computer. Though he had no computer skills, he could find his way through the basics. Maybe he could put her name into a search engine and see what popped up.
Armed with a plan, Gary Anthony marched out into the night.
Chapter 7
Somewhat unsettled after yesterday's intense question session, Summer knocked on Mrs Kensington's front door, hoping Night might have vanished for the day.
A moment later, he opened the door, staring down at her with those deep storm cloud blue eyes. Blue jeans and a black T-shirt covered his muscular body. Black hair hung straight down to tickle the top of his shoulder blades.
No such luck. Lifting her chin, she looked him in the face. "Good morning, Mr Kensington. I'm here to work with your mother."
"I thought I told you to call me Night?" His tone softened, almost as if he attempted to tease, though she couldn't tell from the stoic expression on his face.
"Alright. Night. May I please come in so I can start your mother's therapy for the day?" She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, not quite comfortable with his intense attention.
The corners of his mouth twitched. "We just sat down to breakfast. You can join us."
Her mouth opened and shut like a guppy. "But…"
He pulled the door open, gesturing her in. "There's plenty of food and we should eat while it's hot."
"I'm not sure…"
Even as she tried to protest, he spoke over her, leading the way to the kitchen. Pausing, he waited for her to catch up before arching an eyebrow. "You would deny my mother her breakfast?"
She shook her head. "Well, no. It's just that…"
As they entered the room, Mrs Kensington looked up from her plate, a smile of welcome on her face. "Good morning, dear. Sit. You must eat with us."
Summer glanced at the table filled with breakfast foods and bit her bottom lip uncertainly. "I'm really…"
Night yanked out a chair and motioned. "Sit. Eat." The stern tone reminded her of her third grade teacher. No student dared talk back or disobey when Mrs Gregory-Liam broke out that warning.
With a sigh of resignation, she sat down on the offered chair, her gaze darting back and forth between her patient and the son.
"Juice, coffee, or milk?" Night asked.
"Juice please." She accepted the offered carton, pouring a generous amount in her glass. While she did that, Night busily piled her plate full of pancakes.
"Hey!" She shot him a glare. "I don't need that many."
He smirked over his coffee mug. "Just eat. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day."
She snorted. Giving in, she reached for the butter and syrup, adding both to her plate before cutting off the first chunk and sticking it in her mouth. Her eyes widened in surprise at the sweet flavor. "This is good."
"Thank Colton. He made them." Mrs Kensington took a sip from her mug.
Summer's eyebrows rose. Not that men didn't cook, but she didn't expect Night to play much in the culinary arts. She sent him a warm smile. "Thank you. It's delicious. Really." She savored another nibble. "What did you add?"
He matched her grin. "You're welcome and it's a secret ingredient." Jabbing his fork into a layered section, he took another bite.
"Summer? You mentioned you have a small farm?" Mrs Kensington asked while she added more syrup to her plate.
Swallowing, Summer nodded. "It's not much, just ten acres I inherited from my grandmother. The original homestead consisted of several hundred acres. My great-grandparents lost most of it when they couldn't pay taxes on the land during the Great Depression. I'm just glad she left what remained to me since I now have three horses."
"You ride?" Night asked softly from across the table.
"Not much. All of my horses are rescues, adopted through a program that places retired racehorses into private homes rather than sending them to slaughter. Two of them can't be ridden due to old injuries and age. The third is completely sound but I don't have a lot of time to ride. Mostly, it's just hopping on his back for a quick turn around the pasture."
Night's expression flickered from amazed to intrigued in the blink of an eye. If she hadn't been purposely watching his reaction, she would have missed it entirely.
"I didn't even know such a thing existed." Mrs Kensington chimed, looking at her with a smile. "How wonderful of you."
Summer's face heated from the unaccustomed attention and praise. "I would love to have more, but there simply isn't room. I also adopted a dog, Murphy. She keeps me busy and makes wonderful company."
"Your family must be quite proud of you." The older woman patted her hand.
"It's just my mother, but she says she is." She stuck another forkful of food in her mouth.
"Your father?" Night asked while shoving the final bite of food around his plate.
"Sperm donor." Summer answered, battling to keep the smile off her face at their reactions.
Night bristled and scowled. "He wouldn't man up to his responsibilities?"
Her lips twitched as she chuckled. "No. I meant a real sperm donor."
Mrs Kensington's mouth dropped open, while Night stared at her in bafflement.
"My mother wanted a child badly and couldn't find a man to love. So, she sought the services of a sperm bank. Supposedly, she chose a tall, blond athlete with a high IQ."
"How… unusual." Mrs Kensington stammered, her mouth hanging open.
Summer just grinned. "A bit radical maybe, but since I
wouldn't be here without it, I'm glad she went through with it." She grabbed her juice glass, emptying it in a couple of gulps, amused at the stunned expressions on both faces.
"So, she never married?"
"Nope. It's just been me, her, and grandmother as far as I can remember. Grandpa died when I was three, so I don't remember him at all. Grandma passed two years ago."
"What about you, dear? Do you intend to marry and raise a family? Or visit one of those… banks?" Mrs Kensington pulled a napkin up and patted her mouth.
Summer's face warmed immediately. Such intimate and personal questions made her uncomfortable and jumpy, as if she expected them to judge her for the lack of a typical life. "I honestly don't know. I guess it depends if the right man comes along or not." She took a moment before turning the tables and addressing Mrs Kensington. "So, have you been married?"
Night flinched while the older woman's face dropped, her hands clasped in her lap, head down, as if the memory weighted her down.
Squirming, Summer immediately regretted her words. Should have kept my mouth closed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry. I should just…"
"No. It's okay." Mrs Kensington looked up, reaching over to pat her arm. "We asked about your family, it's only right you would inquire about ours." She took a deep breath, met Night's eyes, then began to speak. "I haven't seen my ex-husband for nearly thirty years."
Summer gasped at the revelation. Certainly in her short time working with the woman, she'd never seen a wedding band or heard one word whispered about a husband. She simply chalked it up to the woman being a widow or divorced somewhere along the line, but not that far in the past.
Summer's Night Page 3
