Texas Hustle

by Cynthia D'Alba

  He frowned. “All what trouble? Packing my stuff and bringing my truck home? I’m sure they didn’t mind. That’s what family is for. It’s not like I wouldn’t have done it for them or any of my family.”

  His words stabbed at her gut. What he described wasn’t her family, not at all. Her grandmother had been wonderful, taking her in, letting her stay until college, leaving Porchia the house. Her Grandma Summers had been able to show her love for Porchia in ways her parents never had. She’d never doubted that her parents loved her in their own way.

  However, now that she’d spent so much time with Darren’s parents, she couldn’t imagine that Clint and Nadine would have sent any of their children to live with a relative to quiet the rumors.

  “What can I do to help you?” he asked. “It’s Saturday, so odds are that you can’t talk to your insurance agent until Monday. Want me to call Marc and see what’s going on with the investigation? We probably won’t be able to get into your bakery today to see if anything is salvageable, but I can find out.”

  “No. Thanks. I think I need a couple of days to get my thoughts together. I thought I’d start making a list of who I need to call and things I need to get done. It’s going to be a long list. Why don’t you go on to your ranch and check on things there? I’m sure you’re dying to get home.”

  “Come with me?”

  “Thanks, but, no. I could use some alone time. It’s nothing to do with you or your family,” she added. “They were super awesome, but I need some quiet time to think.”

  “What about your folks? Have you called and told them yet about the fire?”

  “No, but I will.” Mentally, she flinched at the idea of telling them. They’d never approved of her running her business, much less something as pedestrian as a local bakery. “I’d rather have some firm information and plans before I do.”

  “I hate to leave you here by yourself. Come home with me. I promise you’ll have lots of quiet time at the ranch.”

  She laid her fingers on his firm thigh. “I’m used to being here alone. I’ve been alone since my grandmother died twelve years ago. Don’t worry about me.”

  “But you’re not alone. You’ve got your parents.”

  “Right. I meant on my own in Whispering Springs.”

  “I just don’t feel right going.”

  “You’re not going. I’m sending you away.” She gave him a quick kiss. “I really appreciate your concern, but I need to be here. You go on and don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

  She could see his mind whirling. He wanted to go home and check on the animals. But, on the other hand, since he was a true Southern gentleman, leaving her probably went against the grain.

  “Go,” she said more firmly. “Call me tonight. Tell me how much all your cows missed you.”

  He chuckled and stood. “Okay, I can take a hint.” Taking her hands, he pulled her to her feet. “I’ll miss you.”

  “Me too.”

  “If you need me, or just miss me, call. I’ll be on the road back to you before we hang up.”

  He brought her closer and pressed his mouth to hers. Her heart sighed and Porchia gave up her struggle to remain unaffected by him. Snaking her arms up and around his neck, she held on and enjoyed all the sensations of his tongue delving into her mouth. When he growled and jerked her flat against him, aligning their bodies so they touched chest to chest and groin to groin, the merry-go-round in Porchia’s gut lit up and started spinning. Damn, she was going to miss this man.

  Their week together had shown her that the age difference she’d thought would be a problem just wasn’t. However, it wouldn’t be right to drag him and his respectable family into the rabbit hole with her problems. She didn’t know what or how Slade would figure in her future. She just knew he brought nothing but bad news whenever he appeared.

  When he finally broke from the kiss, he rested his forehead on hers. “I’m going, but only because you’re forcing me.”

  “I’ll see you soon. I promise.”

  After a quick final kiss, she stepped back. “Go.”

  Once he was gone, the house settled into a quiet so pronounced it almost hurt her ears. The only sounds were her breathing and the hum of the refrigerator. She gave him twenty minutes to get out of town before she grabbed her purse, pulled out her keys and hurried to her car.

  The town hospital was small. Most life-threatening cases were sent on into Parkland or Baylor or some other major medical center. However, burns like the ones Mallory had suffered could easily be managed locally, so Porchia was sure her employee was still hospitalized here. She needed to talk to Mallory to find out what she knew about the fire and what she had—and more importantly—had not told the sheriff’s department.

  An angry voice resonated from Mallory’s room, followed by a calming male voice. Porchia pushed open the door. Mallory was sitting in bed, her arms crossed over her chest, her eyes blazing with anger.

  “Knock, knock,” Porchia said through the open door.

  “Porchia.” Mallory’s voice held a whisper of relief. “Tell this jackass that I can take care of myself.”

  The jackass under discussion was a man dressed in a pristine white lab coat who looked to be in his thirties with dark hair and a five o’clock shadow. His hazel eyes wore the concerned look of a professional doing his job.

  “I’m Porchia Summers,” she said, holding out her hand. “Mallory works for me.”

  “Dr. Salvie. Nate Salvie.”

  “Nice to meet you.” She looked at Mallory. “What’s the problem?”

  “I need to get out of here. Now! This asswipe says I have to stay another night.”

  “Some of your burns are quite serious,” Dr. Salvie said. “Not to mention the two broken ribs. This asswipe thinks one more night is in order.”

  “You have broken ribs?” Porchia cried in alarm. “How…never mind. We can talk about it later.” She turned to Dr. Salvie. “I’ll do what I can to make her stay, even if I have to tie her down.”

  He gave them both a bright smile. “Great. I’ll leave you here to do your magic. And you…” he pointed at Mallory, “…I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “In your dreams,” she shouted at his back as he was leaving.

  The second the door was shut, Mallory pulled off the hospital gown to reveal a tank top. She pushed her bedcovers to the foot of the bed to reveal jeans and socked feet.

  “I’m out of here,” Mallory said. “Help me get some shoes on.” She stood and gasped.

  “Sit,” Porchia ordered, pointing to the bed. “And talk.”

  “I have to get somewhere safer.”

  “You’re worried about the guy who did this.”

  “Damn straight. He had crazy eyes. I’ve seen vets like that. People who have totally gone over the edge, and, man, that was him.”

  “The guy from the beater truck?”

  Mallory’s gaze flashed to Porchia but she remained silent.

  “Was it the man from the truck?”

  “You know who that guy is, don’t you?” Mallory said.

  “Maybe. Probably. Describe him.”

  “Tall. Blond. Crazy eyes. Prison tat on his neck.”

  Porchia shut her eyes and drew in a deep breath, trying and failing to calm her racing heart.

  “What did you tell the deputy?”

  “Nothing about the guy. Only that there was someone and he had your safe open and was shoving money into one of our paper sacks when I walked into your office.”

  “Why didn’t you describe the guy?”

  “I don’t know. I knew from our phone conversation that you knew this guy, or I figured you did. I owe you, Porchia. You weren’t looking for a night baker when I came to you. But you saw what I needed. You adjusted the bakery hours for me. You helped me. I didn’t want to put you in a bad spot with the cops if you and this guy were somehow involved.”

  Porchia staggered and sat heavily in the only chair in the room. “You think I burned down my own b
akery?”

  Mallory retook a seat on the edge of the bed. “I didn’t know. I saw people do stuff in Afghanistan that I would never have thought possible. But until I got a chance to talk to you, I wasn’t saying anything to the cops.”

  “Well, let me assure you that I didn’t burn down my own bakery. But you’re right that I know who the guy is. And I do think he’s dangerous.”

  Porchia pulled her phone from her pocket and stopped. “Mallory. I am so, so sorry you got hurt. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine something like this would happen.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up. You couldn’t have stopped this if you’d been standing in the office instead of me.”

  “Thank you. Somehow, I’ll make it up to you.”

  Porchia dialed the sheriff’s department.

  “Hi, Marc,” she said when he picked up. “This is Porchia Summers.”

  “Porchia. What’s going on?”

  “I need you to come to the hospital. Room two-thirty-seven. We need to talk.”

  “Okay. I’m assuming this is about the fire.”

  “It is. And about the guy who started it. I think I know who it is.”

  “And you’re just now telling me?” His voice was thick with agitation.

  “Just come. Oh, bring a deputy to leave on Mallory’s room. If the guy is who I think he is, he’s dangerous.”

  “On the way. And Porchia?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Stay there. You’ll be safer. There is already a deputy watching her door.”

  “So you knew I was here?”

  “Yup. See you in a few minutes.”

  “Why did you call the cops?” Mallory asked, her lips tight across her teeth. “They’re useless at best and will probably just make the situation worse.”

  “Because without them, you and me are in big, big trouble.”

  Marc was there so quickly Porchia wondered if he’d been in the area, or even in the hospital. But given that a deputy was already stationed on Mallory’s room, he might have started to head over when he got the report that Porchia had shown up.

  Marc dragged another chair into Mallory’s room and took a seat. “Okay, ladies. It’s time to come clean.” He pointed toward Mallory with a pen. “I don’t believe for one minute that you can’t describe your attacker. And…” he pointed at Porchia, “…you know more than you’ve told me. So who’s first?”

  “Me,” Porchia said. “It all starts with me.”

  Marc poised his pen over a notepad in his lap. “I’m ready.”

  “I think, from what Mallory has told me, the guy is Slade Madden. He got out of prison in the last couple of weeks.”

  He wrote down the name. “How do you know him?”

  “We went to school together. One night when I was fifteen, I left a party in his car. He was drinking. A lot. I should have known better. I still can’t believe I got into his car. But you have to understand. Slade was so popular. He was a senior and captain of the football team. Every girl wanted him. He was so handsome.”

  “Just keep to the story,” Marc said.

  “Okay. Anyway, he was drinking beer. I didn’t realize how drunk he was until after I got into the car and he drove off. I asked him to take me back to the party. He laughed and grabbed another beer. When I insisted he take me back, he got mad. Called me a baby. He turned around and floored the gas. I think he was just trying to scare me. He took a corner, and I swear, it felt like we were on two wheels. He lost control and jumped the curb and hit an old woman in her yard. He backed up and drove off.” She paused, the horror of the night as fresh as if it’d happened only yesterday. “She died. He got a total of eighteen years for negligent homicide and leaving the scene of an injury accident. Plus, a misdemeanor count of driving while intoxicated. Oh, and contributing to the delinquency of a minor. That would be me.”

  No one spoke as she shut her eyes to regroup her emotions. “I was taken down to the station but released to my parents. No charges were filed against me since I wasn’t drinking and had no control over the car. I testified against him. It was horrible. My friends deserted me. No one at school would have anything to do with me.”

  Porchia clasped her hands together to stop the shaking. It didn’t work.

  “When the trial was over,” she continued, “I moved to Texas to live with my grandmother, my mother’s mother. It was supposed to be for a few months, just until all the brouhaha died down, but after a year, I decided to stay.”

  She looked at Marc. “A lot of the kids and their parents blamed me for Slade going to jail. I didn’t have a choice, not really.”

  When she stopped speaking, Marc cleared his throat. “Why do you think the guy who was in your place was Slade Madden?”

  “He contacted me a couple of weeks ago. He’s served his entire sentence and is out. He wanted me to give him money, which I don’t have. But I promised him I’d give him something in a couple of weeks. I needed to buy some time until I could figure out what to do.”

  “And you didn’t call me because?” Marc asked.

  “He didn’t do anything wrong. He asked me for money. That’s it.”

  “That’s it,” Marc said with a lift of an eyebrow. “He thought you’d be such a great sport as to hand over money? No threat?”

  She flinched. “Just that he’d tell everyone in Whispering Springs about my history and ruin my name and my business.”

  “Isn’t that blackmail?” Mallory asked.

  Marc glanced at Mallory as though he’d forgotten she was in the room. “At this point, it probably doesn’t matter. Arson, burglary and attempted murder are enough to send him back. Your turn, Mallory.”

  Mallory told him about seeing this strange guy hanging around the bakery while Porchia was gone and how she’d called Porchia about it. Then she went over discovering Slade in Porchia’s office with the safe open and how they fought.

  “How did you get away?” Marc asked.

  “I didn’t. He pushed me into the side of Porchia’s desk and then slammed my head on the top. I think he thought I was dead when I slumped to the floor. The fire was at the door by then, and I guess he decided that if I wasn’t dead, the fire would finish the job. As soon as he was gone, I made it to the bathroom and climbed out the window into the back lot. I crawled as far as I could and I guess I passed out. That’s where your deputies found me.”

  Marc glared at both women. “You two ladies are in a peck of trouble.”

  Chapter Twenty

  After reading them the riot act over not coming forward sooner, Marc left a deputy at Mallory’s door.

  “Sorry, Porchia. I should have known you had nothing to do with that guy.”

  Porchia hugged Mallory gently so to not hurt her broken ribs and then pushed her shoulders back on the mattress. “You will stay here,” she said. “That’s an order.”

  “I will. I promise. I won’t even give Dr. Asswipe any problems.”

  Porchia laughed. “He’s kind of cute, you know.”

  “Not happening.”

  “Well, you never know. I’m headed out. Grocery shopping and then home. There’s nothing in my house to eat.”

  “Think you ought to have asked the sheriff to put a deputy at your house?”

  “No. I know Marc. There’ll be a deputy near my house, but I don’t think Slade will come there. If he’s smart, he’s long gone.” She scooped up her purse off the window ledge. “I’ll check on you later. Since I’m going to the store, you need anything?”

  Mallory shook her head. “I’m fine. Thanks.”

  It was close to dusk by the time Porchia pulled into her drive. Parked down the street was a patrol car. She’d waved as she’d passed. With all the trouble Slade had gotten himself into while in Whispering Springs, she didn’t believe he’d dare to approach her. She felt a little guilty about that poor deputy sitting outside for nothing. Maybe she’d bake some cookies to take out to him.

  She was later getting home than she’d expected. She’d h
ad to go by the bakery again and just look. Her insurance was good, thanks to her father’s advice, but she doubted it would completely cover her losses. The image of her burned-out bakery was branded into her brain, just as the loss had dug a deep hole into her soul.

  One of the first items on her to-do list was to help any brides find replacement bakeries, especially those with wedding dates near. It was possible she could make a few of the cakes at home, but she’d have to talk to the other ladies who worked for her to compile a complete list of weddings and dates…if they could remember them all.

  All the lights were off at her house, which was comforting since that was how she’d left it. She collected her grocery bags, her purse and the mound of mail that’d been waiting on her at the post office. Balancing it all was quite the juggling act, but she made it to the front door before pieces of mail began sliding off. She left a few envelopes on the porch and let herself into the house. Quiet and still.

  After putting away the foodstuffs, she went back to the porch to retrieve the lost mail. A gun greeted her when she opened her door.

  “Get back in,” Slade said and pushed her backward.

  She stumbled, landing across the arm of the couch. She struggled back to her feet. Fear and anger battled to be the emotion in charge. Unfortunately, her fear of Slade was much, much stronger.

  “This is a bad idea, Slade. You need to leave before the police get here.”

  “Nobody’s coming, Kat.”

  “What about the deputy sitting right outside, or did you miss that car with Whispering Springs Sheriff Department on the side? The car with the big blue lights on top?”

  He sneered. “I’m not stupid.”

  She thought he was probably wrong on that account.

  “That deputy won’t be reporting in anytime soon.”

  His words made her gasp as her stomach dropped. “What did you do?”

  “Doesn’t matter. I’m leaving town, and I want that money you promised me.”

  “I told you it’s going to take a while to get it together. I have a little in savings. Maybe a thousand or so. I can get that tomorrow.”