Blatantly Blythe

by Sarah Hegger

  Blythe didn’t know all of the hows yet, but sitting here, surrounded by support, she could believe it would happen.

  Someone knocked on the door.

  “More people.” Kim’s eyes sparkled. “We have lots of people coming to see us.”

  For this alone Blythe would be forever grateful. On the morning Kim would have spent missing her brothers, she was having a lovely time.

  Blythe let her open the door and Daniel walked in. He took in the women and grinned. “All my favorite girls in one place.”

  Brett stood in the doorway and looked at Blythe for permission.

  She nodded, and he stepped into the apartment.

  “Brett.” Kim stood and looked up at him. “Blythe says you are my brother.”

  “Blythe is right. I’m your oldest brother. I’m her oldest brother too.”

  Kim thought this over. “She says she’s not sure if you’re a good man or not.”

  “Me neither.” Brett winked at her. “But what about we see if we can work that one out together.”

  “Okay.” She held out her arms, and Brett picked her up.

  Kim wrapped an arm around his thick neck. “Blake went away.”

  Blythe’s heart lodged in her throat. Her instinctive fear still leaped to attention when Brett was around Kim. At the same time seeing her sister so tenderly held by her big brother touched her. The way he spoke to Kim made her want to forgive and forget everything.

  “Blake does that from time to time,” Brett said and walked into the kitchen with Kim. “I’m going to see if I can find him for you.”

  “Brett?” Blythe stared at him. She didn’t want him making promises to Kim he couldn’t keep.

  “Hey, Grub.” He winked at her.

  “Grub?” Kim shrieked and giggled. “You call her Grub?”

  “That’s right.” Brett grinned at Kim. “Because when she was your size, she used to be one.”

  “Brett asked me to come with him.” Daniel kept his voice for her ears only. “He thought you would be more comfortable.”

  “I appreciate that.” And she really did, but something else worried her. “He’s not seriously going after Blake, is he?”

  A muscle jumped in Daniel’s jaw. “I can’t talk the stubborn shit out of it.”

  “But his parole.” Blythe glanced at Brett.

  He was looking bemused by Phi, who was in full flirt mode and had both hands around one of his biceps.

  Daniel shook his head. “He says this is more important.”

  “Brett.” Blythe motioned her brother. “I need to talk to you.”

  Brett raised an eyebrow at her tone but put Kim on the floor. “I’ll be right back, and we can work on a nickname for you.”

  “I am Madelaine,” Kim said with a regal wave.

  Blythe led Brett into Kim’s room and shut the door. It had been a long time since she’d gone toe to toe with Brett and it still scared her. “Daniel says you’re going after Blake.”

  “That’s right.” He folded his arms.

  “You can’t.”

  Up went his eyebrow. “Says who?”

  “Says me.” She put as much starch in her voice as she could manage. “You will violate the conditions of your parole, and that will land your ass right back in prison. They will throw the key away this time.”

  “Grub.” His expression softened. “This shit is partially my fault.”

  “How do you work that one out?” Blythe couldn’t let him go down that road. In his own way, Brett was as much a victim as the rest of them. “You’re going to take Pat’s crimes as well as your own on your shoulders?”

  “I was the oldest.” His face tightened.

  Blythe stepped closer. “But you were still the child in his scenario. You caused enough shit in your own right. No need to burden yourself with Pat’s as well.”

  “We’re gonna have to agree to disagree on that, Grub.” He wore his stonewall expression.

  She wanted to smack him until he saw sense. “You’re really going to do this?”

  “I’m really going to do this.” He nodded. “And I’m going to drag that useless goat fucker back here.”

  “He will have spent the money by then.” Blythe tried again.

  “I’d bet my life on it,” Brett said. “But he still has to come back here and face the consequences of his actions.” He raised his hand as if to take her hand, and then dropped it again. “And when I get back here, we will find a way to send Will to college. You don’t have to do this alone anymore, Grub.”

  “I will if you get sent back to prison.” Blythe stepped closer and touched his wrist.

  “It’s going to be fine.” He opened his arms, inviting the hug but not moving to take what she didn’t want. “I know the sheriff, who has as much as told me that he has a massive blind spot I can slip through.”

  Heart pounding, Blythe stepped into his hug. “Don’t screw this up, Brett.”

  “I won’t.” He brought his arms around her and kept the hold light. “I wish I could tell you how fucking sorry I am, Grub. For all of it. For what I did to you, and for what you’ve had to go through while I was locked up. I will make it up to you.”

  “Just don’t screw up.” Trusting again hurt like growing a missing limb.

  “You have the biggest heart, Grub. And I’m an asshole because I know that, and I bet everything on it coming through for me. Betting that big heart would find a way to give me a second chance.” He tightened the hug. “How about you send some of that to my boy Eric?”

  “Brett?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Too soon for that sort of interference.”

  “Noted.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  The last thing Eric felt like tonight was this fucking business dinner, but a night away from Blythe might be good for him.

  What the hell was he saying? The only reason he wasn’t camped out on her doorstep was because he suspected he’d pushed her about as far as he could, and her next step might be a slammed door in his face.

  “Mr. Evans.” The maitre d’ at the Boulangerie hurried over to him the moment Eric stepped into the restaurant. “How lovely to see you. We haven’t seen much of you in the last few weeks.”

  No, they hadn’t, because he’d been spending every waking moment away from the office trying to persuade the woman he loved to give him another chance. “I’d tell you I’ve been gainfully employed but you know me better than that, Gerard.”

  “You can’t fool me, Mr. Evans.” Gerard gave him an eye twinkle. “You need someone to remind you not to work too hard.”

  “I’m working on it.” He managed a smile that may or may not have looked a bit grim, because Gerard’s flawless smile faltered.

  “Mr. Gunning is already here.” Gerard motioned Eric to follow him. “I put him at your regular table.”

  Eric shot his cuffs and did a discreet check in the smoky amber mirror behind Gerard’s station. Showtime. This was what he did best. Somehow despite the cluster fuck of Highgate, he could salvage the deal with Chase.

  Following Gerard through the restaurant it struck him that other than the first dinner with Chase and Miranda he really hadn’t been here in a while. When he had first moved back to Ghost Falls the bar attached to the Boulangerie had been his hunting ground. The sort of women he liked to pick up frequented it. Women who would make him feel like a man who had made it.

  Then, in a moment of weakness, he had called up Blythe and the Boulangerie’s single scene had been without him since then.

  “Eric.” A gorgeous brunette held out her red-tipped hand to him as he passed. “Where have you been, darling?”

  Gerard stopped and waited.

  “Kendra.” He leaned down and brushed her cheek with a kiss, ignoring the way she pressed into the caress, inviting him to
linger. “You look well.”

  Kendra preened and sent him a sultry smile. “I should be furious with you for not calling.”

  “Yes, you really should be.” He and Kendra had enjoyed a couple of nights before he’d reconnected with Blythe this last time. “I apologize for being an asshole.”

  “You can make it up to me.” Kendra bit her full, plum-painted mouth between her straight white teeth. “Maybe we can get together later.”

  “Unfortunately, I’ll be busy later.” He re-appropriated his hand. “It was nice to see you, but my associate is waiting for me.”

  “Rain check?” Kendra cocked her head and studied him like a hungry bird would a worm.

  “Off the market,” Eric said, and sent a quick prayer to whoever might be listening he had that right. “Permanently.”

  Arms spread over the back of the dark green leather booth, Chase watched him as Eric approached the table. As per usual, his hawkish features gave none of his thoughts away.

  Eric knew he’d schooled his features into a similar expression as he held out his hand. “Chase.”

  “Eric.” Chase shook his hand. “Matt not joining us?”

  “Not tonight.” Eric spread the crisp white napkin over his lap. “Jasmine is still ruling her Daddy’s life with an iron fist.”

  “Mr. Gunning.” A waiter approached with two glasses on a tray and put one in front of each of them.

  Chase nodded his thanks to the waiter, before turning to Eric. “I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty.”

  So, Chase was in control mode. Eric’s inner alarm light flickered on. Chase in control mode meant Chase feeling very sure of himself. The martini was the least of Eric’s battles tonight, so he raised his glass in a toast. “To a mutually beneficial future.”

  Chase sipped and looked smug. “Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk about.”

  A siren joined the blinking alarm light, but Eric played it cool and stared at Chase, giving him the silence to fill.

  Managing to hold his ground for three minutes, Chase eventually gave. This couldn’t be good.

  “I’m hearing some disturbing rumors around the Highgate contract.”

  Eric would pay good money to know who whispered in Chase’s ear all the time. Again, he let the other man fill the silence. If Chase wanted information from him, Eric was going to make him work for it.

  Across the restaurant, a blonde caught his eyes and smiled. Eric sent her a polite smile that would let her know he wouldn’t be taking up her invitation.

  “I hear the job is behind schedule after a fire leveled most of it.” Annoyance bracketed Chase’s tone. “And that the budget is in free fall.”

  “You hear a lot.” Eric forced a cool smile to his lips. Fuck it! If Chase knew the extent, their entire deal would fall apart, and Eric couldn’t blame him if it did. He wouldn’t get into a business drowning in shit either. He sipped his martini. “And as per usual, there’s a bit of truth in every rumor.”

  Chase’s hazel eyes narrowed. “How much truth?”

  “Enough to make it my priority.” Eric met and held his gaze. “We had some trouble. It’s under control now.”

  “Right.” Chase looked skeptical but dropped the subject.

  They ordered and ate with Eric having very little recollection of the food. Chase was in a Machiavellian mood and kept him tap dancing throughout. Subtle jabs here and there. Fancy verbal footwork to gain the upper hand and elicit more information than he was willing to give. Eric met him at every twist and turn. Evans Construction needed this deal to stay in the game and Matt was counting on him.

  He dropped his credit card on the bill when it came. Not so long ago, this sort of evening would have fired his adrenaline. Skating the fine edge of disaster had always been his crack. Tonight, all he wanted to do was beg Blythe to let him into her apartment and sit there and watch one of her pain in the ass reality shows with her.

  Sprawling back in his seat, Chase looked smug. “Let’s cut the shit, Eric.”

  Eric nodded. He had been ready to cut the shit hours ago.

  “Get this situation under control.” Chase raised a hand to forestall anything Eric might say. “I hear what you say, but frankly, Eric, I don’t believe you.” His smirked. “I think you’re twisting the truth to keep this deal together, and I don’t blame you. I would do the same in your position.” He sat forward, gaze like a hungry shark. “But there won’t be any partnership if your house is not in order.”

  Given the way the evening had gone, Eric wasn’t surprised. “I hear you. There won’t be any reason for this deal not to go forward.”

  Chase dug in his pockets and pulled out a slip of paper. He pushed it over the table to Eric. “I’ve taken the liberty of calculating your company’s worth. Given recent events.”

  “That should make interesting reading.” Eric slipped the paper into his pocket. Chase was threatening him with a total buyout, and he didn’t need to read the figures on the paper to know they would be insultingly low. He’d have done the same thing as Chase if their roles were reversed. “I’ll chat to Matt and we’ll get back to you.”

  “I’m glad we understand each other.” Chase stood and preceded Eric out the restaurant. The power game was so subtle, but Chase felt confident enough to take top dog position and leave Eric following him.

  They didn’t speak as they waited for the valet to bring their cars around.

  A black sedan glided to a stop in front of them and the valet held the door open for Chase.

  “Let me know when you’re ready to deal,” Chase said as he climbed behind the wheel of his Mercedes-Maybach S650.

  “Mr. Evans?” A second valet watched him, waiting for him to get behind the wheel.

  Eric dialed Brett from his car.

  “Yo!” Brett rasped over the Bluetooth.

  Mind reeling, wanting to punch himself in the stupid face, Eric said, “Can you get hold of Barron for me?”

  “Why?” Brett’s voice hardened. “Want me to break the little fucker?”

  It surprised a laugh out of Eric. “No, I need information from him.”

  “He’s here. We’re at my mom’s house.” Brett said. “We can meet you.”

  “No, I’m on my way.” As the shock faded, Eric wanted to throw back his head and laugh. He should have seen it from the get go. Chase had played him like a violin, all the time driving for the merger, while he worked to break them behind their backs. “Don’t let him leave.”

  “Barron isn’t going anywhere.”

  Eric hung up. Both he and Matt had been distracted and hadn’t noticed what they should have. He needed Barron to verify this and then Chase Gunning would pay the price for fucking with the Evans brothers.

  Eric stopped outside the house and stared through the windshield. “Shit!”

  This was where Blythe had grown up and it was so much worse than he had imagined. She had told him bits and pieces over the years. What words couldn’t convey was the sense of despondency that clung to the house, like this was the blackhole down which all hope vanished.

  The front door opened, and light limned a figure in the doorway. Judging by sheer size, it had to be Brett.

  Eric climbed out of his car and suppressed the desire to activate the locks. They’d only steal his hubcaps if he did.

  The stairs creaked beneath him as he climbed them.

  Brett threw an arm out. “Welcome to the family estate.”

  The inside of the house was neat at least, but stank of cigarettes and beer. Eric walked into a sitting room to the left of the front door.

  Bo and Becker lounged in eighties style floral sofas. They straightened when they saw him and stood.

  “Boss?” Becker’s gaze flickered from him to Brett and back again.

  “Barron,” Brett called from the hallway. “Get your ass down
here.”

  “What the fuck for?” Barron responded from somewhere up the bare wooden stairs.

  Hands on his hips, Brett shook his head. “You gonna make me come up there?”

  A moment’s silence was followed by footsteps stomping overhead and then Barron appeared at the top of the stairs. “What?”

  Brett motioned Eric. “Wants to ask you something?”

  “I know fuck all.” Barron scowled at Brett, but it looked more petulant than anything else. Like a toddler making a token protest that they knew they would lose.

  “The guy you told me about.” Eric stepped back into the hall. “The one in the S650. You sure about that car?”

  “Yeah.” Barron shrugged and stomped down the stairs.

  “He won’t forget a car,” Brett said with a smirk. “They’re something of a family passion.”

  Eric needed to be sure. “But you never saw the driver?”

  “Nah.” Barron scratched his left armpit. “Dude kept the windows up mostly. Tinted. Ray did though. He said he wanted to speak to you about him.”

  “An S650?” Bo sauntered into the hallway. “Black?”

  All gazes swung his way.

  Brett stepped closer to Bo. “You know something about this?”

  “I might.” Bo looked nervous and put some distance between himself and Brett. “S650 pulled up to the Burger King drive thru when I was getting lunch.”

  “You’re sure?” Eric’s blood stirred as the hunt began again.

  “Yeah, I’m fucking sure.” Bo sneered at him. “Aren’t that many of them on the road, and especially in Ghost Falls.”

  Eric thumbed a picture up on his phone. “This guy?”

  Bo peered at the image. “Yup.”

  He had the fucker now.

  “This the guy who’s been stirring up shit?” Brett peered over Eric’s shoulder at the phone.

  Eric wanted to howl his triumph. “Yes.”

  “Want us to take care of it for you?” Brett motioned his brothers. “My favorite T-shirt got torn in that fight.”

  “Oh, no.” Eric smiled. “I’ll take care of this myself.”