Come Rain or Shine (Shine On Series, Book Three)
Page 22
“Help?” he said, smashing out his cigarette under the toe of his boot.
Emmie stood there locked in his gaze. He moved closer to her. So close she could feel the holster under his jacket rubbing against her forearm.
“This is not helpful to me,” he said slowly.
Emmie ignored his comment. “I’ve got some information that will be helpful to you. I called Bo last night and . . .”
“You did what?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
“I called Bo and he wasn’t acting right. I’m worried someone may even be at the Johnson’s. He was talking really quiet like he didn’t want anyone to know he was talking to me.”
“Why did you call Bo?” he asked, taking a step back from her.
“I knew if there was anyone who might be able to give me more information about what’s going on, it would be him. But if we are being honest, more than that I wanted to check to be sure he was okay. His cabin and all of his moonshine were burned, Silas. I was worried. Heck, I even wanted to check to be sure Spotty was not caught in the fire.”
Silas only nodded, taking another step away from her. “What seemed off about him?”
“He kept asking where I was and if you were with me. He said I shouldn’t come home.”
“Did he say why?” Silas asked.
“No he got off the phone pretty quick. But if you take me to talk to him, I am sure I could get more information,” she suggested.
“You want me to take you to Bo?” he asked, his face set in a deep frown.
Emmie nodded. A moment of silence passed before Silas spoke.
“Why are you here?” Silas asked again, shrugging.
“Silas, I told you. I cannot sit up there in some fancy house like nothing’s wrong when the folks I love are in danger. Especially because whoever is starting these fires seems to be connected to what happened in that cabin. The way I figure, this is all partly my fault. Mr. Thomas, the apple pie, that’s all me.”
He looked around at the house behind her for a second before he spoke. “I used to wonder how a girl as sweet as you could attract so much trouble. Now that I know the butcher brothers are your uncles, it makes perfect sense. It must be in your blood. Brave to the point of danger, but loyal to the end.” He walked closer to her and ran his knuckles along the side of her cheek. “I’ve pretty much got most of this sorted out and that man,” Silas hitched his thumb behind him toward the shed, “it’s just a matter of time before he fills in the gaps.”
Emmie frowned at the shed. The brothers had taken the half-naked man in there. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask who he was and what Silas hoped to learn from him, but she thought better of it.
“I appreciate that you are worried about me, but I will be fine. Trust me,” he said, pulling her chin up gently so her face was closer to his.
“Silas, I trust you. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t still worry about you. Plus I’m worried about others too. You are not the only person I love residing in Kentucky,” she said.
His eyes went dark at her remark. She could tell by the way he moved away from her that her words had stung him. “I don’t guess I am.”
He turned his back and walked away from her. At first she thought he was pacing but he never turned back around. He was headed for the small shed near to the barn that he had indicated the half-naked man was in. Her stomach sank as she realized he wasn’t coming back. She swallowed hard and took off after him, dead brown grass crunching loudly under her feet.
“Silas,” she said.
He didn’t stop.
“Silas, what are you doing? We aren’t done talking about this.” She was running now to catch up with him before he made it to the shed.
He reached for the door without looking back. Emmie bent down under his arm and stood facing him with her back against the door of the shed, blocking his entrance. His arm rested just above her shoulder, flat against the faded weathered wood. He kept his focus just above her head, refusing to make eye contact with her.
“Look at me,” she said.
He didn’t. She could see the muscles in his jaw flex as he ground his teeth together but he never moved his eyes to hers or said a word.
“Look at me,” she shouted, balling up her fist and hitting him lightly on the chest.
Silas closed his eyes and reopened them slowly. With lightning fast reflexes, he grabbed her arm with his free hand. “Do not touch me.”
“You have to talk to me. You have to talk to me about this,” she said, her voice hollow.
He released her hand and rubbed his eyes. “I’m done with this Emmie.”
Her mouth fell open in shock. “What do you mean you’re . . . you’re done with this?”
“I just . . .” His voice trailed off and he shook his head as if he didn’t know how to finish.
“You mean you’re done with me?” Her throat tightened at the words.
Silas looked back up at the weathered wood of the shed door above her head and shook his head no.
“Then what do you mean?” she asked.
He smacked the door with his palm so hard Emmie thought it might come off the hinges.
Emmie stood frozen, unsure what to say.
“You were just going to leave me. I begged you take me, but you left me up there with no way to get home. And you knew it, Silas,” she said, trying to explain.
“Oh, I’ll never again underestimate your resourcefulness, Emma.”
“Please don’t call me that. I know you are only saying it because you are angry with me.”
He looked down at her incredulously but didn’t say a word.
“You left me,” she repeated, trying to make him understand, “and this is all partly my fault. I can help you.” She reached for his fisted hand, forced it open, and threaded her fingers through it. He never moved to accept her touch.
“I don’t want your help. I’m not sure how I can be any clearer about that. I thought leaving your ass in Chicago was sufficient enough to get that message across, but clearly you needed it, spelled out in words,” he said with a snide grin. “I. Don’t. Want. Your. Help.”
Now it was Emmie’s turn to feel stung. She released her grip on his hand and nodded. She moved farther down the wall of the shed away from him. If he wanted to be in that shed so bad, doing God-knows-what to God-knows-who, she’d let him. All they were doing right now was trading licks. Their words were nothing but poison to each other.
He reached for the door handle again but paused before he got it all the way open. His eyes were sad as he looked down at the ground.
“Did you tell him where we were?” Silas asked.
“Tell who?” She had no idea what he was talking about.
“Your Bo. Did you tell him where we were?” Silas asked.
“He is not my Bo. And no. How could I tell him where you were? I didn’t know,” she answered quietly. “You left me with no explanation.”
“I left you a damn note, Emmie. Don’t act like I ran off on you,” he shouted.
“Yeah, well . . .” she struggled for something to say. “Notes are for cowards, Silas. You were a coward—afraid to face me when you left.”
She thought he was going to come after her. Silas was not the kind of man to be called a coward and she knew it. His face said violence, but to his credit he didn’t move a muscle. He stood frozen for a long time, staring at her. All at once he turned to the door and thrust it open with more force than necessary and then let it slam shut behind him.
Chapter Forty-five
Emmie walked away from the shed not long after Silas had gone inside. There was no way she could go back to cook with Great-Aunt Eve. So instead she wandered around the lawn. Tears welled in her eyes as she realized this was the ground her mother had walked as a child. Her mother’s world had been such a secret. She had worked so hard to pull Emmie away from toxic environments. Yet she’d married Ronnie, an abusive alcoholic who struggled to love anyone, including himself. As crazy as
these people were, Emmie had to wonder if her mother’s running had actually led to a better life. She wasn’t sure.
A large weeping willow was off a few yards from one of the large barns. She thought it odd the family’s barns were nicer than their house. Being butchers, she guessed the cattle and pigs on this land were a part of their livelihood. Emmie found herself drawn to the willow tree. It was beautiful even against the dismal late fall landscape. She ducked, walking under the willow tree’s sagging branches, and nestled between two giant roots at the base of the tree, leaning her back against the rough bark. She pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her forehead on them, cradling herself like a child. If it was cold out here, she couldn’t feel it. She only felt numb. She thought of her confrontation with Silas. Why had she come back here? She couldn’t explain it to Silas, but something in her gut told her to come home.
She had actually forgotten about the note Silas had left her until he brought it up. It was in her purse in the kitchen. She didn’t want to read it anyway. What could it possibly have to say that she didn’t already know?
As much as Emmie just wanted to be mad at him, she found her anger wavering the longer she sat there. After a while one of the butcher brothers came out and checked on the pig roasting over burning embers. Roasting a pig was a pretty big deal. Was this a special meal for Silas and the men? Emmie thought her mother’s kitchen had always been the soul of the house. Having a good day? Let’s celebrate with some cobbler. Having a bad day? Let’s go peel potatoes and you can tell me about it. Someone is coming over? Let’s make a Sunday roast to celebrate. Her mother may have left the Sloan family but clearly they had stayed with her in spirit.
A loud bang came from the shed breaking Emmie from her thoughts. It wasn’t like a gunshot, more like a table being thrown across the small structure. Cain, who had been checking on the pig, ran to the door, thrust it open, and then ran inside. Emmie sat up straight trying to see what was going on. What was wrong with her, sitting out here like nothing was happening just a few yards from her? Even if that man inside had been responsible for the fires, did he deserve what was happening in that shed? Silas left the shed swearing a blue streak with Trick close on his heels. Silas was shaking out his hand like it had been hurt. Trick was talking animatedly with his arms spread out wide. Emmie saw Silas rub his jaw in his classic I’m about to bust a vein so let me rub the hide off my chiseled jaw instead. He didn’t have his suit jacket on anymore. It was too cold for him to be walking around outside in only his shirt and vest. Clearly he must have been feeling a little numb too. He nodded periodically at whatever Trick was saying. After a moment he fished a cigarette out of his pocket and pointed at the shed as he said something. Obviously something had finally happened in that shed and she bet they had learned something new from the way they were acting. Emmie stood, keeping her back pressed firmly to the tree in an attempt to blend in. She wished she could get close enough to actually hear their conversation.
Silas spun and looked off in the distance toward the willow tree she was standing under. She moved behind a cluster of branches, not really wanting her hiding spot to be found out. Silas said something to his brother and Trick turned to face the tree. Emmie twisted the ring on her finger anxiously. Silas’s arm extended out in her direction. He pointed right at her then crooked his index finger in the universal come here motion. When she didn’t immediately move toward him, he pointed at her again and then pointed at the ground in front of his feet.
She slowly moved out of the confines of the tree and walked up to him, careful to keep her chin up and her shoulders back. When she reached him, he crossed one arm over his body and lifted the other to rub his mouth, staring at her before he spoke. His eyes were like storm clouds. He was still angry. How could he not be? She had called him a coward.
“You think you can be helpful here, Emmie. My little tough girl, eh?” he asked.
She didn’t reply.
“Tell me, who is that man?” he asked, pointing to the shed.
“I haven’t the foggiest idea who he is.” She looked at Silas like he was a mad man.
“Are you sure? Because he knows you.” He took a step closer to her, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Silas I don’t know what you are talking about.” Emmie crossed her arms around her chest.
“I thought you came down here to be helpful, sweetheart. A positive ID on that man would have been helpful when you first saw him in the cabin.” Silas looked at her with mock disappointment.
“Si, come on,” Trick said in an attempt to stop his brother. Silas ignored him.
“Are you telling me you think I should know that half-naked man that the butcher carried through the house earlier?” she asked, confused.
“Emmie, I thought you wanted to be partners in my world,” he said, taking another step closer to her.
She swallowed hard. “I’ve never seen that man before.”
“Sweetheart, he is the one who arrested you at the Tealbach. The one you ran out and told me about in Chicago. Tall blond, remember?” Silas asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
“I don’t know . . .” Emmie thought back to the man she saw wiggling on the ground. She tried to put the two images side by side in her brain but couldn’t seem to answer with any certainty. “I can’t . . . I can’t say for sure. I guess he could be,” Emmie said.
“It’s not easy to identify a man, is it Emmie? When you are riddled with emotion in the situation, it’s not easy to remember the details,” he said louder, like he was some kind of teacher.
“Why are you telling me this?” she asked, looking at him.
“Because I want you to understand what kind of danger you could be in here. What if you had crossed that man in Louisville? That man who knew you were connected to me. A man that had already taken you once. You could have walked right past him and never known you were facing danger. You thought you remembered him, but the truth is, he could have taken you again and you wouldn’t have realized the danger until it was too late.”
“If I’d seen him in Louisville, I might have recognized him,” she said, jutting her chin out.
Silas grinned, laughing. “He was bound at your feet and you didn’t recognize him. How would you have recognized him on the street? You are not aware of the danger you face here. You might have a lot of people you love in Kentucky but I don’t. I’ve got you. I’m prepared to make decisions that you can’t, just to keep you safe.”
Her throat tightened at his words. She was surprised it was the Kentucky comment he’d referenced from their argument rather than the fact she’d called him a coward. She had meant for the coward comment to take him down a notch, not the fact that she loved others in Kentucky.
“Silas, I . . .” She tried to find the words to say she was sorry but couldn’t make herself utter them. Maybe because she was still mad he said he’d wanted to leave her ass in Chicago. So she asked a question instead, “What do you mean you’re prepared to make decisions that I cannot?”
He ignored her question and asked one of his own, “You want me to share some information we just learned? Something you got right?”
Emmie nodded, unable to believe he was going to tell her something.
“That police officer in there is working with the Parbour family. You were right. Not only was he involved when they baited me in Louisville, we’ve also learned he and his friend covered up the fire and car explosion here in Bardston at the butcher shop. That’s how we got the identification. A young man was murdered in that car and that son of a bitch covered it up for fifty dollars. That’s the sort of men we are working with here, Emmie.”
Silas moved closer to her. His demeanor was still icy but it softened a little as he reached out his hand to push a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She could see his knuckles were busted open. Emmie grabbed his hand and ran her fingers over the cuts. He let her inspect it. He was letting her see him without pulling away from her. He had shared information with h
er. Silas was trying.
Coward. She had called him a coward. He stood there, looking down at her. She brought her mouth down to his hands and closed her eyes, almost as if in prayer. Silas grabbed her chin and pulled her face up to his. They were nearly nose-to-nose. She could feel his lips close to hers. She licked hers in anticipation for the kiss that never came. Instead he spoke.
“That cop is on more than the Parbour’s payroll, Emmie,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
She pulled back a few inches. He released her chin. “You were right about something else too. Bo Johnson did have something to hide when you called him last night.”
Emmie’s mouth dropped open as she understood his meaning. “No.”
“Those Johnsons have made some bad plans for Walter’s family,” he said quietly.
Her trembling hand came up and covered her mouth. “No.”
Chapter Forty-six
“Are you ready to go?” Trick asked.
Emmie snapped her head around to him. “Go? Where are you going?”
Trick looked over at his brother, clearly indicating he was not answering any questions. Emmie noticed for the first time Trick looked uneasy, more uneasy than the current situation should allow. His eyes were cold and unfeeling. Gone was the spark of humor that he could usually find in even the most dismal of circumstances.
“Trick?” Emmie touched his arm gently, making his name a question.
He stood frozen, unresponsive to her touch.
Emmie thought back through what she had just learned. If the thought of the Johnsons in this scheme had made her feel broken, it had crushed Trick. Millie. Trick had been seeing Millie. Did he think she was involved too? Emmie rubbed his forearm. He turned his cold eyes to hers.
“Trick, honey. Millie couldn’t have known anything. She’s a sweet girl,” she said.
Trick popped his neck before he answered, “Yeah, well, our little police friend in there said differently.
Emmie’s mouth fell open. “He said Millie was involved? How could Millie be involved?”