A Little Texas

by Liz Talley

  “Well, good friend of Mr. Mitchell, I guess you already know my father is a low-down, no-good bastard who spreads his seed all over Texas and leaves it to sprout with no help. He never acknowledged me or helped my family. I figure he owes me.”

  She advanced on the man. She could tell he hadn’t expected much of a fight from her. What did he think she’d do? Squeak like a mouse, hop in her car and speed away? She’d sent the letter. She wanted the money. The bastard owed her that much. Likely more, but she wouldn’t be greedy.

  He watched her as she stalked around his car.

  She stopped in front of him and planted her fists on her hips. “So, does that get the attention of his majesty? Or do I have to write Mrs. Vera a little note signed ‘Kate Mitchell, your husband’s illegitimate daughter’? Or maybe I can take out an ad in the Houston Chronicle? Bet that’d get the governor’s attention.”

  The man blinked. Then he smiled. “You are his daughter.”

  She narrowed her eyes and waited.

  “Justus wants you to come to Texas.”

  “No. I don’t take orders from him. I’ll go to a lab and have blood drawn. I know he’s my biological father. I’ve known it for years. My mother and grandmother were not liars.”

  The man crossed his arms and released a sigh. Though he was slightly under six feet, he towered over her. His shoulders were sinewy and tight, his body trim and coiled. He reminded her of a soldier. Perhaps he was one. “Mr. Mitchell’s instructions were firm. You want the money. You come to him.”

  There was no way she could go to Texas. She needed to be at the salon raking in all she could, and if she canceled her appointments, she’d likely lose her clients. That was something she couldn’t do. She needed steady customers—her future depended on it. It was one of the reasons she hadn’t gone to Texas in the first place. That and the killer airfare.

  “I can’t. I have responsibilities.”

  “The salon?”

  A thread of unease snaked up her spine. Did her father know about her financial troubles? Surely not. “Yes, if you must know. I can’t pack up a suitcase and head to Texas to satisfy some old man’s whim. I—”

  “But you expect him to satisfy yours? Meet your demands with no proof? It’s more than reasonable to expect to meet you face-to-face. That was his offer. Take it or leave him be.”

  Kate chewed on his words. “If he wanted to meet me face-to-face, why send you? Why not come himself?”

  The man swallowed what she assumed to be aggravation. “You evidently didn’t do your research well. Mr. Mitchell is ill and confined to a wheelchair.”

  Now, that was something she’d never expected. The powerful Justus Mitchell confined to a chair, crippled and sick? Something stabbed her insides. She was certain it was guilt. After all, she stood there ready to blackmail an ailing man and his reputed angel of a wife with dirty laundry from years past.

  But Justus Mitchell wasn’t a victim.

  Kate didn’t consider herself a victim, either. But she’d also grown up without the necessities of life while her father and his wife ate Chateaubriand and drank Perrier. She’d lived in castoffs from the Oak Stand Pentecostal Church while their precious Ryan had galloped upon a pristine lawn in a smocked John-John suit. She’d crawled into a used single-wide trailer each night praying it wouldn’t storm while the Mitchells tucked into plush beds in one of the seven bedrooms at the family estate, Cottonwood. And worse still was that everyone knew she was his daughter…and felt sorry for her.

  Kate deserved the money.

  But she’d rather face a firing squad than go to Texas.

  “Here’s a plane ticket for tomorrow morning. Either you get on the plane or Mr. Mitchell will fix it so you never see a dime from him. Your choice.” He shoved an envelope into her hand.

  “You’re threatening me?” Kate felt her toes sweat in her boots. They always did when she felt scared. Damn it.

  “Turnabout is fair play, Kate.”

  With those words, the man opened his car door and climbed inside. Kate barely had time to step back before he pulled out of the narrow parking space. She couldn’t tell if he watched her in his rearview mirror, standing bereft in the parking lot holding the envelope. He’d put on dark sunglasses that made him look even more menacing.

  “I didn’t even get your name,” Kate muttered to the taillights of the car. “Rude ass.”

  There was nothing left to do but climb into the comfort of the VW. She blinked back desperate tears. Justus played hardball.

  But what had she expected? The man hadn’t risen to the top of Texas by letting people run roughshod over him. Of course he’d be as tough as the West Texas landscape that held his oil wells.

  So now she had no choice. She’d have to go to him if she wanted to get the money for Fantabulous. She only hoped she could pull it off. Everything depended on her playing the game well.

  CHAPTER THREE

  RICK DROVE OUT OF THE PARKING lot as his cell phone jittered beside him. He glanced at Kate in the rearview mirror. She stared after him looking not the least bit happy, her lips forming words he couldn’t hear. He could only imagine the curses being shot his way.

  Who could blame her? The tables had been turned on her little blackmail game. And strangely enough, it hadn’t amused him to get beneath her skin. He knew how it felt to be jacked around. But she’d brought it on herself.

  The phone vibrated again. And again. He glanced down at the persistent humming. Justus’s number flashed on the BlackBerry’s screen.

  He didn’t want to talk to the old man right now. He needed to process Kate Newman.

  She was a smart-mouthed, sexy piece of work. He liked her style—the edgy look she wore like an attitude. She’d responded to him. He hadn’t missed that. And she didn’t seem afraid of him like other women were. There was little doubt she was Justus’s biological daughter—not because her manner was as brash as his, but because she had his eyes. Ryan’s eyes.

  Justus had stamped his mark on his two children.

  Kate’s eyes were like an exotic sea glittering at sunset. They dominated her delicate face, even overshadowed her tempting lips. He imagined men tripped over each other for a shot at her. She had a daring vibe, an appeal that would make people draw near to see what she’d do or say next.

  Something stirred inside him. He wanted to tell Kate to stay in Vegas and not worry about Justus. There was a pall hanging over Cottonwood. It would suck her in and suffocate her.

  Mind your own business, he told himself.

  But logic couldn’t stop the feelings rising inside him. The one that said “protect her” and the other he didn’t even want to acknowledge. The one that whispered “bed her.” Those responses were asinine. Kate didn’t need protecting—he hadn’t seen so much as a hint of fear or regret in those Mitchell-blue eyes. And as to the other, well, he wasn’t that man anymore.

  The phone sounded again.

  He stopped arguing with himself and pulled into an empty lot, pressing the answer button. “Rick.”

  “Where the hell have you been?”

  “Yes, I’m having a nice day. And you, Justus?”

  “Skip the bullshit. You’re in Vegas. You’ve seen her.”

  Rick grimaced. “Yes, I’ve seen her.”

  “And?”

  “And I think she’ll come to Texas, but I can’t be certain. She’s not what I expected.” Even as the words left his mouth, he knew he shouldn’t have said anything about Kate. He should let the man draw his own conclusions about his biological daughter. Don’t involve yourself. Keep your distance. The less said, the better.

  “What do you mean?”

  “She’s…salty. She won’t be pushed around easily.”

  “So she is my daughter.”

  Rick’s gaze roamed the lot surrounding his car. It was empty. Yellowed weeds poked through zigzag cracks. Boards covered the windows of a vacuum cleaner repair shop and a series of blue graffiti marked the boards. Staking territory. Th
e number thirteen was displayed prominently, as was the letter M. He’d parked on Sureño turf, the street gang that had once been his sworn enemy. “You keep saying she’s your daughter, so why go through all this? Just give her some money. You owe her at least that.”

  But Rick knew why Justus wanted Kate to come to Texas. He’d lost Ryan three years ago, then he’d had the stroke that nearly killed him. His wife, Vera, clung to the past, drowning herself in grief. Things were bad at Cottonwood. Justus needed deliverance. He thought he could get that in Kate.

  “I need to see her. For proof.”

  Just look at her eyes. The words sprang to his lips but he didn’t give voice to them. “I’ll be back tomorrow, with or without her.”

  The old man sighed. For a brief moment the silence sat heavy on the line. “Okay. Tomorrow.”

  The line went dead. No platitudes about having a safe trip back. No polite farewell. Justus had never used niceties on Rick.

  He shifted the car into gear and eased toward the road. From the corner of his eye he caught sight of two young guys crossing the back of the empty lot. Young Hispanic men. Flat-billed caps, thigh-length jerseys, baggy jeans, blue bandanas in pocket. Tattoos covered their forearms. Gang members.

  The guys laughed, punching each other on the arm, but their laughter died when they saw him. He could feel them stiffen, grow aware.

  He drove from the lot, leaving only sympathy behind. Sadness for a childhood lost. He wasn’t sure if it was for the two bangers or for himself.

  His mind cut to the center. The true test was about to begin. Next week, he’d find out if he’d bitten off more than he could chew. Reality was he didn’t know squat about rehabilitating gang members. He only knew how to be one.

  Maybe knowing the life would be enough.

  THE NEXT MORNING KATE PUSHED her sunglasses to the top of her head as she entered McCarran International Airport. She glanced through the sliding doors to where Jeremy sat in her car. She gave him a wave and he saluted before pulling away from passenger drop-off.

  She wanted to run after him, tell him he screwed up, he should have to fix everything. But she didn’t. Because Jeremy didn’t care about Fantabulous as much as she did. And because his partner had taken a turn for the worst and was under hospice care. And because that morning, the IRS letter had mocked her from its position on her fridge. She swore it even gave a snicker when she opened the door to grab a bottle of water and a yogurt. Two weeks ago, life had been much easier.

  Now she had a mere three weeks to get ten thousand dollars to Wendell.

  Or lose her salon.

  That made her throat tighten. She tried her best to ignore the gut-clenching thoughts tumbling in her head as she stepped into a security line that seemed to be moving as slowly as the Vegas economy. One step every two minutes. At this rate, she’d likely miss her flight.

  She scoured the crowd for the man who’d confronted her in the post office parking lot the day before. She didn’t know if she would see him again. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that he’d tracked her down through the post office box. If she really didn’t want her father finding her, then she should have devised a more anonymous method of contact.

  She should have known this whole blackmail thing was a stupid idea. Blackmailing a man who took pleasure in crushing anyone who got in his way—who did that? She knew the answer. Only someone who was desperate. And now look where it had landed her. She’d set something into motion. Could she handle what was about to happen?

  A woman tapped her on the shoulder, pulling her from her thoughts, and pointed toward the moving line.

  Finally, Kate made it through the checkpoint, reassembled everything in her purse and carry-on, and headed for the gate. The ticket was in her hand. It was one-way, and that made her nervous.

  “Kate.”

  Her name sounded like a caress on his lips. She turned to face the man who’d shadowed her dreams the night before. He looked calm, as though he’d actually slept. The bags under her eyes sagged lower. “I’d say hello, but you never introduced yourself.”

  His lips twitched. “Enrique Mendez, but everyone calls me Rick.”

  He offered his hand. She ignored it. “Do you work for Justus, or just stalk random women at post offices for fun?”

  Amusement flashed in his dark eyes before his face went blank. “Not necessarily.”

  The man was totally vague, but at least she knew his name. “Are you local or are you from Texas?”

  His eyes scanned the crowded airport. He took her elbow and started walking toward the gate. “I’m from Texas. I’m flying back with you.”

  Kate tugged her arm from his grasp. “I can walk by myself.”

  He didn’t react. Simply kept moving toward Gate D-13. She followed, but put space in between them. She studied him from behind as he moved purposefully toward the Delta Air Lines desk. He wore his dark hair clipped close, military-style and had on a black Nike athletic jacket, jeans and hiking boots. The boots didn’t fit the look, but she imagined he didn’t care. They were probably comfortable. Rick was one of those guys.

  He stood in line behind two other people. She didn’t bother. She already had a seat on the plane. Instead, she plopped into one of the bucket seats next to a dapper Asian guy reading on a Kindle, parked her stuffed-to-the-max suitcase next to her and watched Rick.

  The man who’d made her so uneasy at the post office smiled at the attendant. The dour-looking older lady was forty pounds overweight with a horrible dye job, but she melted like a Popsicle in July at Rick’s coaxing.

  She wondered what he was trying to get from her. She also wondered why she hadn’t been treated to such a smile.

  The woman nodded, fluttered her lashes a little and took his boarding pass. She studied the screen before her, tapped a few buttons on the keyboard, and looked up with a triumphant smile. She pulled something from a machine beside the computer and handed it to Rick.

  The ass had obviously been upgraded.

  The woman grabbed the intercom and asked all passengers seated in business class to please begin boarding.

  Rick didn’t even glance Kate’s way as he stepped into the line.

  Great.

  By the time Kate had stowed her carry-on, popped a Xanax and sank into her seat, she decided she didn’t like Rick Mendez one bit. He was chatting with an attractive flight attendant, his legs stretched out in front of him, while Kate had the sharp elbows of the guy to her left to look forward to. Not good.

  She blew away the pieces of hair hanging in her eyes and settled into the not-so-comfortable seat. She had forgotten her iPod, so she’d spent her last bit of cash on a book at Walgreens. She hoped the legal thriller could take her mind off the jitteriness she felt at sitting inside the metal bird of death. If that didn’t do the trick, the medication would likely kick in to soften takeoff.

  She didn’t like to fly. She did it when she had to, but only when it was absolutely necessary. Given a chance, she’d have elected to put the top down on her VW convertible, flood the car with her new Pink album and set out for Texas. Nothing better than the wind in her hair, but it was the end of January and she didn’t think icicles forming on her nose would be a good look.

  She took another peek at business class, but the flight attendant jerked the partition closed, throwing a knowing look at the people sitting in coach. Kate sighed. Yeah, yeah, sister. We all want to be in there.

  “’Scuse me,” Sharp Elbows said as he nearly pierced one of her lungs.

  “No problem,” she muttered, shifting aside and praying no one would take the seat to her right.

  Her prayers went unanswered when a granny toddled toward her, counting off the seat numbers. Sure enough, she was 23E. The woman wore a floating caftan, had poofy hair and carried a purse so big it threatened to topple her forward onto Pokey Elbows’s lap as she passed him. She grinned at Kate, showing her silver-framed partial and yellowed teeth smudged with fuchsia lipstick. No doubt she had jeweled sun
shades and a brag book of grandchildren lurking in her purse.

  “Honey, I’m over there next to you.”

  Kate lifted herself so the woman could slide into her seat. The ginormous purse smacked her on the thigh.

  “Sorry, honey. I’ll get settled…right…here.” The elderly lady huffed and puffed as she adjusted her seat and tucked tissues in the pouch in front of her.

  Kate really hated Rick Mendez. He was getting free liquor. While she was tucked in tight between Lemony Snicket and Mrs. Roper. Kate yawned. The Xanax was kicking in, leaving her feeling sleepy and foggy. She only used the medication for flights. Okay, and when she couldn’t stop the merciless anxiety that sometimes swamped her and kept her pacing the floors at all hours of the night. Jeremy had forced her into getting some when she’d let it slip that she suffered from periodic anxiety.

  Jeremy.

  He wasn’t so bad, even if he had risked her future without asking. She still loved her flamboyantly gay friend. Besides, she was as unsinkable as Molly Brown. She wasn’t going to throw their friendship away over his moment of insanity. After her ill-fated blackjack game, she’d phoned him, listened as he threw himself a pity party, then told him her plan.

  Part of the blame fell on her. She’d gotten lax in double-checking the books. Lord knew her accountant had harped on it enough. But she’d never thought Jeremy would endanger their business or friendship. Never. Which went to prove what she’d known all along. She had to rely on herself. No one else. “Ma’am?”

  A smartly dressed flight attendant with a fake smile and a platinum bob jarred Kate from her musings.

  “Huh? I mean, what?”

  “You can follow me. I’ve cleared you for business class.”

  Kate couldn’t stop the smile that sprang to her lips, the first one she’d hatched in weeks. Hell, yeah. “Absolutely.”

  She turned the smile on her former seatmates. “Well, I’m outta here.”

  “I don’t blame you, honey. I wish I’d had the time to show you pictures of my Pomeranians. You know I show them all over the country. Little Boy Blue just won the Hanover.”