by Tessa Layne
“S’what I said.”
“Hhmph.”
Why in the hell was Blake always checking up on him? “There something else you wanted to ask?”
“Why don’t you come shoot a round with us? Maddie went home to bed.”
He shrugged and slid off the barstool. The world tilted a bit, but quickly righted itself. How many shots had he had? Not nearly enough. He could still see Jamey’s face every time he shut his eyes. A few more rounds and she’d be the furthest thing in the world from his thoughts.
Mason smiled and handed him a pool cue. “Great roping today. I could use someone with your talent if you ever want to come to Montana.”
He scowled. “What. You think I’m not good enough to run the lodge? Be a big businessman like you?”
A look of exasperation crossed Mason’s face. “Hey, I don’t know what your problem with me is, but be cool.”
Something dark and ugly inside him snapped. He charged Mason, pinning him up against the pillar with his elbow across his throat. “You wanna know what my problem is?” He growled, feeding off the anger that had been building since Jamey had turned her back on him. “I’ll tell you what my problem is. You come in and throw around your money and your advice. You try and steal my help.”
Two sets of hands yanked him back. He staggered as the room spun, then fought to break loose from the bodies dragging him toward the door. At least that’s where he thought they were dragging him. He wasn’t sure because the room kept moving.
A boot connected to a door with a thud, and the warm night air caressed him as the ground rushed up to meet his face.
“What in the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Blake bent toward him, roaring in his ear. “I’ll be goddamned if you ruin my business by attacking one of my guests.”
Brodie rolled over digging an elbow into the gravel in an attempt to rise. “Oh. So it’s my business until I fuck it up, and then it’s yours?” He hurled himself forward, bringing himself to his knees and slowly to his feet. Since when did the world feel so jiggly? He raised his hand, leveling a finger at his brother. “Wait. I get it. You’re just looking for an excuse to kick me off the property now. Is that it?”
Blake glowered at him, arms crossed.
He took a step forward, focusing on Blake’s hard expression. “That’s it, isn’t it? I’ve never been good enough, have I? I’m the dumb one. Can never do anything right. Well fuck this. I’m outta here.” He waved his hand, dismissing Blake. “Don’t mean nothing anyways.”
“Don’t get in that truck, Brodie.”
He stopped, drawing his hands into fists. “What else you gonna tell me to do, brother? Gonna tell me when to piss and take a shit too?”
“You’re in no condition to drive.”
“Leave me alone. I’m fine.”
Blake’s boots crunched on the gravel behind him. “I mean it. I won’t hesitate to tell Travis to haul you in.”
“Fuck you, asshole.”
Blake spun him around, eyes harsh under the cold light of the lone parking lamp.
“You know what your problem is, Brodie? You’re a spoiled punk. No one ever took a strap to you when you were a kid. Ma felt sorry for you because you struggled more than the rest of us. She wouldn’t lift a hand. I hate to tarnish her memory, but she did you a disservice.”
The ache he’d worked so hard to eliminate came crashing back, pushing against his ribs with the force of a raging bull. “She did not.” He knew he was shouting, but he didn’t care. “You have no idea what it was like. You were… perfect. And never home.”
Blake threw back his head and laughed harshly. “It’s time for you to grow up and start taking responsibility for your actions. Ma never gave you tough love. I don’t have that problem.”
“Shut up. Just. Shut. Up.” He pinched his nose, breathing in and out through his mouth and trying to focus on the toe of his boot. But it kept moving.
A vehicle rolled to a stop just behind him, boxing in his truck. Great. How in the hell was he supposed to get out of here now?
The car door slammed, and footsteps crunched across the gravel. “There a problem here, Sinclaire?”
Blake’s face shuttered. “Take his keys, Travis. He’s six sheets to the wind.” He turned on his heel and stalked back through the door into the bar.
Travis placed his hand on his service belt and extended his hand. “I can drive you home tonight.”
“I don’t need your damned help,” Brodie snarled, adjusting his stance.
“No need to get belligerent. I can’t let you get in your truck.”
Brodie took a step forward, placing his hands on his hips. “What are you plannin’ to do about it, Kincaid?”
Travis shook his head, studying the gravel. “You’re gonna back down right now.”
Brodie growled, taking another step closer. “Or what?”
Quick as lightning, he was face down eating gravel, the breath knocked out of him with a big ‘oomph’. Travis’s knee pressed painfully between his shoulders. “Don’t ever fuck with an officer, Sinclaire,” he ground out. “You’ll always come out on the losing side.” Travis shook him hard for emphasis. “Now I’m gonna do you a favor. I won’t press charges. And you’re going to get up and crawl into the backseat of my vehicle without saying a word.”
He grunted.
“Not a word. Understand?”
He nodded, his cheek scraping along the pebbles.
“You can sit in the drunk tank until you can find someone to come get you. Give me any guff and you’ll have a record so fast no one in town will hire you for anything.”
He nodded again, the world spinning, and despair leaking out of him like the ooze from a broken toilet bowl.
CHAPTER 24
Brodie woke up shivering in the corner of Prairie’s lone cell. The stench of stale urine, vomit, and sweat dripped from the pale green walls. Why in the hell was he here? The last thing he remembered was pleading with Jamey in front of Travis.
“Travis? Travis.” He winced at the sound of his voice echoing off the walls. Was this some kind of a sick joke? Had Travis arrested him to get him out of the way?
Nah. Travis was pretty stand-up. He liked Travis. Except when his paws were all over Jamey. Then he wanted to break him to pieces.
He dropped his head back to the cool cement. How much energy would it take to move his body to look out the window in the door? Heaving out a breath, he pushed himself up, then locked his knees as the room spun.
Damn.
He’d really fucked up this time.
Squinting and breathing deeply, he willed himself to focus on the door.
A picture of his arm across Mason’s neck came to him. And Blake yelling at him. But that wasn’t unusual. Until Maddie, Blake usually yelled at him for something. Maybe he shouldn’t have gotten into it with Mason. He peered out the dirty window. No Travis.
Damn, he was thirsty. His mouth felt like the inside of a cat box.
Fuck it.
He had to get out of here. What time was it anyway? Had he slept here all night? His sense of time was just plain off. Jamey had made that perfectly clear. He’d set his alarm for six-thirty and had left the fairgrounds when it had gone off. Did she think so little of him that after what they’d shared, he’d blow her off?
The realization that she did, twisted in his gut.
And thanks to his idiocy, he was sitting his sorry ass in the drunk tank trying to piece together the remains of his night.
“Travis. Come on, man.” He drove his fist against the glass, flinching with each blow as the echo triggered stars behind his eyes.
After what seemed like ages, Travis slowly walked around the corner, hands thrust in his jacket pocket. He’d known Travis for years and had never seen the steely look in his eye before.
“Step back from the door, Sinclaire.”
Raising his hands, he stepped back into the corner of the small cell.
“Stay where you are. Don’t move.”
“Jesus… fuck, Travis.” He thrust his hand through his hair. “Do I look like a criminal?”
The vein in Travis’s temple throbbed visibly as his jaw tightened. “Threatening an officer is a crime. So yes. You do.”
His stomach dropped to his toes, making the room spin. Panic filled in the void where his stomach used to reside. He’d done lots of stupid shit in his life. Too much, if he was honest with himself. But he’d never cross the line and assault Travis while he was on duty. Off duty was another story.
“I gotta know, man. Did you arrest me?”
Travis’s mouth thinned. He shook his head once. “You were this close.” He held his thumb and forefinger together, glaring at him. “If a stranger had pulled what you did, he’d be in the clink at county.”
Relief washed over Brodie. A lump formed in his throat as the gravity of what he’d avoided, sunk in. He swallowed, not trusting his voice to work. He braced his hand against the cool concrete and tried again to piece together what had happened. “So… ah… how bad was it?”
“Bad enough you’re here. Your brothers can fill you in.”
He nodded. Blake would skin him alive. No doubt about it. A new realization dawned as he considered Blake.
Oh, God.
Was this it?
Would this be the straw that broke the camel’s back?
What if Blake kicked him off the property? Told him to get out? Hot tears pricked the back of his eyes as loss swept through him.
OhgodOhgodOhgodOhgod
Where would he go?
He brought a fist to his forehead, squeezing his eyes tight. Prairie was the only place he knew. He’d never worked off the ranch, never gone to college like his brothers, never dreamed of living anywhere else. He staggered to the stainless steel toilet and wretched the remaining sour contents of his stomach. He would do anything to stay. Anything.
“Feel better now you have that shit outta you?”
He shook his head, swiping his mouth across his sleeve. If anything, he felt worse.
And scared.
Brodie coughed, clearing his throat. “Can I, uh… make a phone call?”
Travis tossed him a cell phone, but he was too slow to catch it. The phone clattered by his boots, skidding behind him. He bent slowly, the room still wobbly. There was only one person he could call. He prayed to heaven she’d answer. If she didn’t, he was screwed six ways to Sunday, and more than likely, out on his ass for good.
Only he didn’t know Jamey’s number.
Fuck.
He’d had her punch in the numbers then taken her picture. Everyone in his phone was findable by picture. Bile rose in the back of his throat, threatening to choke him in a flood of despair. He clenched the phone in his fist. “Uhh… you mind if I use my own phone?”
Could he be any more pathetic?
Travis studied him intently. “Sorry, man. You know the rules. No personal possessions on the inside.”
Panic fluttered at the edges of his conscious. “Aww, come on, man. Just one call.”
Travis shook his head, his face hard. “You’re already on thin ice. Use the phone or don’t.” He held out his hand silently demanding the phone.
There was no faking his way out of this. And it irked him to no end that Travis Kincaid of all people would learn it first.
Godfuckingdamn his worthless life.
His throat swelled from the ache, and he swallowed hard before tearing his eyes away from Travis’s outstretched hand.
“Can you call her for me?” His voice came out in a mumble.
“Come again?”
Brodie cleared his throat, trying to see through the film of shame clouding his vision. “Would you mind calling Jamey for me? I… ah… didn’t memorize her number.”
Travis glared at him. “You’re a piece of work. Know that, Sinclaire? A fucking piece of work. Gimme that phone.”
He tossed it back to Travis, who caught it easily and punched a few buttons, bringing it up to his ear. Shit. Travis had her phone number? Now would be a good time for the earth to swallow him up. Shame radiated off his body in waves, taking the chill out of the cement walls for the first time since he’d stuttered awake.
Travis’s voice cut through his fog. “Jamey? Yeah, it’s Travis. Sorry to wake you… no… nothing’s really wrong… No… no one’s hurt… I’m here with Brodie… No… no. He’s more… incapacitated than injured… Will you talk to him?”
Brodie snuck at look at Travis out of the corner of his eye. Asshole had a smirk the size of Texas.
Travis nodded, glancing at Brodie, as her muffled voice drifted out of the phone. No doubt about it. Travis was enjoying this extra bit of humiliation, and Jamey was pissed as hell. Brodie unclenched his fist, taking a shuddering breath.
“Well, you’ll have to ask him that…” Travis extended the phone. “Five minutes.” He stepped back, and slammed the door behind him.
The reverberation set off another round of daggers poking behind Brodie’s eyes. He pinched the bridge of his nose, bracing for the worst. “Jamey?” His voice came out hoarse.
“Is there a reason Travis is calling me at let’s see… three-thirty-seven in the morning?”
“Look. I know I messed up. Big time.”
She harrumphed in agreement.
He swallowed hard. “And… I know I have a lot of explaining to do, which I want to, but not over the phone.”
Silence stretched between them.
“But please… I need your help right now…”
The silence continued.
Hell, he deserved every bit of her wrath and then some. If he was going to have to beg, so be it. “Please, Jamey. There’s no one else I can ask.”
Her snort told him exactly what she thought.
“Okay, no one else I want to ask. Please?”
“If you’re calling me because your twisted brain somehow thinks you’ll be in less hot water than if you call one of your brothers, you are sorely mistaken.”
“No. No. It’s not that at all.” His throat hitched as a shot of emotion spiked in his chest. “I owe you the most. And I… and I… want to… no, I need to explain to you first.”
Oh, God.
He’d made such a mess of things. He’d been faking things so long, hiding behind bluster, booze, and one-night stands, that the thought of shedding it all and exposing the real Brodie, scared him shitless. And yet, if he didn’t, she’d walk out and never come back. He was certain of it. The realization punched him square in the gut, taking his breath away.
She was important to him.
Her approval was important to him. More important than anyone else’s. And he’d crawl over broken glass to make things right with her. “Please, Jamey. Please, will you hear me out?”
His heart squeezed tighter with every second of silence. Finally, after what seemed like minutes, her breath whooshed into the phone. His own breath released with hers.
“Fine. Where are you?”
He braced himself for the onslaught of anger. “I’m… ah… down at the station.” Might as well get through it fast, like tearing off a Band-Aid. He rushed on, hearing her quick intake of breath. “There was an incident at the Trading Post.”
“An incident?” Sarcasm dripped from her voice.
Ouch. He deserved that. He nodded. “Please, Jamey. Give me a chance? I promise I’ll explain everything. Answer any question. All of them. Just please come get me?”
He would never drink like that in public again. Hell, ever again, if it meant having her stay in his life.
“Fine.”
His knees gave a little, and he leaned against the wall as relief washed over him. It didn’t matter she’d hung up on him before he’d been able to say thanks. He’d make it up to her a hundred times, and more.
CHAPTER 25
Jamey tugged the coat tighter around her shoulders as she trudged up the darkened road. It was still a few hours before sunrise, and the air held just a tinge of the coming fall.
Damn Brodie’s sorry ass.
She should be trying to get a few winks, not hiking into town to fetch him from the drunk tank. She’d wasted enough time and tears on him already.
Her feet crunched along the dirt as she passed the Big House, looming in the moonlight. At least the sky was beautiful. She’d never experienced skies like this, living in Boston and Chicago. Even with the half moon sinking down to the horizon, stars littered the sky overhead, their white points sparkling like glitter over spun sugar.
Was she making a mistake betting on Brodie?
If Jean Luc had pulled this, she’d have kicked him out on his ass and that would have been that.
So why was it different with Brodie?
Was it because he was her best friend’s brother-in-law? She chewed on her lip as she trudged the last leg down to the road. Nope. That wasn’t it.
It was something about them… him.
The way she caught him staring when he thought she wasn’t looking. The way he listened to her ramblings, then did things like build a chicken coop. It wasn’t romance, but it was startlingly thoughtful.
He had way too much swagger for his own good. But she got the sense he was trying to put her first, even if his words came out wrong. And they were hot together. Jesus and the saints, did they burn hot. She’d never experienced the sensation of being broiled from the inside until she’d kissed him.
Somehow, around him, she felt more herself. That was new.
Different.
Unsettling.
Exhilarating.
So yeah… here she was before the ass-crack of dawn, heading into town, on foot, to bail him out. “You better be worth it.” Her voice cut through the dark, jarring her ears. Even the birds weren’t awake.
She paused underneath the large wrought iron arch that announced the edge of the Sinclaire property as headlights in the distance moved steadily closer. They slowed, and she recognized the patrol car that wheeled around on the empty road.
Travis.
The passenger window lowered.
“You didn’t have to come back. Brodie can wait on me,” she chastised as she leaned into the window.
