Brynne Whitfield.
Wasn’t she something?
His coming home just got a whole lot nicer. Even if he’d struck out with Mr. Greene on any possible suspects.
* * *
Britt scanned the partygoers, for what, he didn’t know. This wasn’t the first time he’d gone along with one of Reid’s crazy ideas. Well, it was actually his own crazy idea, sort of, but he hadn’t expected they’d be questioning people. He figured they’d walk around and eavesdrop on some conversations. Then Reid decided they should play Columbo.
If nothing else, this would force him to mingle, not one of his favorite activities. He sucked at small talk. Never knew what questions were okay to ask and which ones would be considered nosey. So he avoided chitchat as much as possible.
Even though he’d lived here his entire life, Britt kept his social circle small, intimate, limited to those he trusted. It wasn’t that he disliked people. He simply didn’t have the time to build meaningful relationships.
But for his mom, he’d do anything, even chitchat. Besides, she would expect him to make their guests feel welcome and comfortable. Two birds with one stone, and all that. He never understood that old saying. Who the hell coldcocked birds with a stone?
His gaze landed on Barbara Shepherd, and the tension bear hugging his chest loosed its grip. He couldn’t think of a better place to start than checking in with his mentor. For the past couple of years, Barbara had been teaching him things about wildlife management that no classroom could replicate. Especially online classes, the only college coursework he could manage after his dad became a hermit, spending more and more time at the family cabin, and leaving him to father his brothers and sisters and take care of his mom.
Having worked for International Wildlife Conservation for over twenty years, Barbara knew more than most of the biologists in the North Carolina Wildlife Resources Commission and U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service combined.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked her.
She sent him a warm smile. “I’d much rather be hanging over the bluff’s edge, observing our pack.”
Late last fall, during a floral survey of Barbara’s property, they’d come across a canid track. The paw print appeared larger than a coyote’s or medium-sized dog’s. Curious, they followed the canid’s trail along a creek bed until they heard a series of excited yipping. They’d almost turned back, believing they’d found an unusually large coyote. But something kept them moving forward.
Thank God they had. A once-in-a-lifetime sight met them at the end of the trail.
Wolves.
Not just any wolves. Endangered red wolves.
No one had seen a wild red wolf in this part of North Carolina since the late nineties.
The find was almost too good to be true. He and Barbara had made a pact that day. To keep the pack’s location a secret until they could confirm they were full-blooded red wolves and not a wolf-coyote hybrid. They’d been studying the pack ever since.
“I thought I might head out there tomorrow.” Out of the corner of his eye, Britt caught sight of a familiar face, though he couldn’t come up with a name. A shame, because he would’ve made that beautiful, long-haired blonde in the show-your-assets jeans and blue form-fitting sweater his next stop.
“Would love to join you,” Barbara said, bringing his attention back around, “but I’m off to San Diego in the morning.”
“Give me a holler when you return. The wolves should be mating soon.”
“Is that smoke I smell?”
Britt sniffed his shoulder. “Yeah, someone set fire to the money pit.”
“You helped put it out?”
“My brothers and I saw the smoke on the way here and stopped to give a hand.”
“Kids tagging the building first and now someone’s setting it on fire. Any idea what caused it?”
“Molotov cocktail and boys with nothing better to do would be my guess. Though I know this town is pretty upset about the steep taxes, so it could be anyone.”
“It wouldn’t make much sense to burn it down. The city needs the revenue, and the taxpayers need the city to turn a profit.”
“Any thoughts on who might have lit it up?”
“Desperate people aren’t the wisest. Even though burning the complex to the ground might not be in the town’s best interest, there are those who’ll act before thinking.” Her gaze swept over the crowd. “If I had to guess, I’d say Johnny Gillis. As I recall, he had an affinity for setting fires as a child. He’s turned into a rather unpleasant man. Always spouting nonsense about Big Brother and his rights being violated.”
“Anyone else?”
“No one comes to mind.”
Something over Britt’s shoulder caught Barbara’s attention. Her spine snapped to attention like a bowstring springing back to the home position. She smoothed her hands down the front of her cardigan and dampened her lips as if her mouth had gone dry. Britt angled his head around to see what had put his mentor on the defensive and saw the gorgeous blonde.
Their gazes caught, and Britt’s chest constricted against an overwhelming pull. He stared and kept staring. If he’d been at a bar, he would have approached her, bought her a drink, attempted a kiss. At least, he thought he would have if his legs had cooperated. Britt had never been gobsmacked before. He disliked the loss of control, yet he didn’t want the moment to end.
She broke eye contact first. “Hello, Mom.”
Mom? Shit.
“Miranda, have you met Britt Steele?”
“Not officially.” She held out her hand. “Call me Randi.”
Britt’s large, work-worn palm engulfed her small hand. In moments like this, Britt wished he had the uncalloused touch of his gamer brother rather than his rough, impossible-to-get-the-dirt-from-beneath-his-fingernails construction grip. But Randi didn’t flinch away. She gave him two firm shakes before withdrawing.
“My daughter owns Blues, Brews, and Books on Main Street. The shop’s been there a little over a year. Have you been?”
“Haven’t had the chance.” Or the inclination.
Blues, Brews, and Books had never appealed to him before. He preferred run-down, whisky-serving watering holes where a man could put his boots up on the table without getting yelled at. But now he’d have to reconsider her place.
Britt tried to judge Randi’s age, always dangerous. He guessed her at thirty-ish. Could someone so young run such a complicated business? From what he’d heard, Triple B was a coffee shop, bar, and restaurant, operating at all hours of the day and night.
Then again, his brother Jonah had started and sold a video game business that had made him a freaking billionaire before he’d reach twenty-seven.
“I can’t stay to chat,” Randi said, not meeting her mom’s eyes. “Gotta get back to the bar.”
Before either he or Barbara could say a word, she was off.
The odd pressure around his chest eased once she disappeared from his sight. Britt’s body felt roughed up, as if he’d taken the beating of a lifetime and barely survived.
“She’s single.”
Frowning, Britt said, “Pardon?”
“You’ll never find a more hardworking and loyal woman.”
“Are you trying to set me up with your daughter?”
“I couldn’t think of a better match for her.” Barbara’s smile faded. “I…haven’t been the best mother. She needs someone solid in her life.”
He found her statement hard to believe. The Barbara he knew was generous with her time and would praise the smallest success. She had a wicked sense of humor and a kind heart—second only to his mother’s. But, obviously, something had gone wrong with her relationship with her daughter. Something they kept between the two of them.
Britt excused himself from Barbara’s company and trudged his way around to a few more townsfolk before joining his brothers again.
“Any suspects?” he asked.
“Every damn person we spoke to,” Reid grumbled.
“Same here.” Except for one stunning blonde. Perhaps he’d need to stop by Triple B and question her more. “What do we do now?”
“Keep our ears open,” Grif said. “If the arsonist is stupid enough to tell one person, we’ll hear something within a few days.”
“So much for stirring up a little excitement,” Jonah said, digging his phone out of his pocket and sinking into his cyber world.
“If I were you,” an aged female voice said behind Britt, “I’d focus on Bobby Ray Benton.”
Jeanine Jennings shuffled on by, not bothering to explain herself or even make eye contact. She didn’t have to. The eighty-something baker’s assistant had an uncanny ability to know things. If she thought they should turn their attention to Bobby Ray, that’s what they’d do.
“Well, boys, are you up for a little snooping?”
3
“Who the hell is Bobby Ray Benton?” Grif asked while trailing behind Britt on the way to the parking lot. “And where are we going?”
Britt waved a hand. “Bobby Ray’s car is in the lot. It’s a black Prius, but this is bad.”
“What’s bad?” Reid had a scowl on, the one that shouted he was about to go kick some serious ass.
“Bobby Ray is the guy Mayor Hackberry hired as city manager. He spearheaded the entire sportsman’s complex project. Was actually the driving force behind it.”
“Then why would he—” Reid started.
“Probably insurance money.”
“What a fucking bozo,” Jonah muttered. “Did he really think the cops wouldn’t figure out it was arson? That tends to screw up an insurance payout big time.”
Reid’s scowl had turned into a sharkish smile. “If he’s our guy, he just earned himself an all-expenses-paid trip to a cell.”
Grif hustled over to a black Prius and checked the license plate. SWAGRR. Jesus, he saw twenty of these things a day on the freeway, but this was the douchiest yet. “Britt, is this Benton’s car?”
“Yeah.”
“The windows are cracked,” Jonah said. “Weird for January, even on such a nice day.”
They surrounded the car, peering in the windows.
“Oh, hello,” Reid said. “You boys see those rags on the floor?”
Yeah, they looked just right for building a Molotov cocktail.
Jonah put his nose close to the open window. “Smell that?”
The others followed suit. Grif hoped no one had a camera on the four of them sniffing Bobby Ray’s vehicle.
“Definitely an accelerant,” Reid said.
“Think he has the empty cans in his trunk?” Jonah asked.
Reid strolled around to the back of the vehicle, his intent obvious. “Don’t even think about it,” Grif said. “Mom will beat us all bloody if you wind up in jail on her birthday.”
Britt, always one to take charge, pushed off the car. “Let’s talk to him. See what’s what.”
All four of them advanced on the guy Britt pointed out by the dessert table. The dude wore slacks and a turtleneck sweater sporting an argyle design. Hell, he should’ve been arrested for the sweater alone. Once they walked closer, Grif could see the city manager’s shoes were dusted with a gray powder. Gravel dust, if he had to guess. You’re going down, SWAGRR.
Britt held out his hand to the guy. “Bobby Ray, I don’t think you’ve met my brothers.”
Poor SWAGRR had to crane his own neck to look up at them. “Great to meet y’all.” If there was one thing Grif hated, it was someone who wasn’t from the South pretending to be from the South. It always came across as condescending bullshit.
Yeah, he and the pretender were about to get down to business. “So Britt tells me you’re the brains behind the sportsman’s complex.”
The guy’s eyes darted here and there as he obviously thought about whether or not to take credit for the complex in its current state.
“Pretty impressive project.”
SWAGGR’s gaze settled on Grif. “It’s state-of-the-art.”
Huh. Was state-of-the-art. “Damn shame it’s sitting empty.”
“With the electricity shut off,” Britt added.
“Uh…” Yeah, those shifty eyes started moving again, never landing long on one brother or the other. “Well, that place in Asheville really knocked our feet out from under us and—”
“As city manager,” Grif said, “wasn’t it your job to perform due diligence?”
“Yeah,” Jonah said. “Must’ve been a real blow when it all fell apart. Kinda surprising you still have a job.”
“I…well—”
“Let’s cut to the damn chase here,” Reid said. “Where were you before this party?”
“I was at my house. Alone.”
Jonah made an obnoxious game buzzer sound. Naaaaaah. “What kind of car do you drive?”
Turtleneck’s face scrunched. “A Prius.”
Reid just rolled his eyes.
Grif smiled. “Can you tell me what those taillights look like?”
“Why?”
Grif cocked his head. “Because I asked you so nicely.”
“Uh, kinda up and down. You know vertical.”
“With a sort of curve to them?”
“I guess.”
“Yeah,” Jonah said with a definitive nod. “He’s our dude.”
“Who’s your dude?” Maggie elbowed her way inside the circle they had the city manager trapped inside.
“Take a look at ol’ Bobby Ray’s vehicle. Betcha you’ll find a gas can in his trunk to go with the shop rags in his back floorboard.”
Bobby Ray gawked, his face turning three shades whiter. “Wha…what? Every person in this town has gas cans.”
Maggie cut him a sharp look and then let her gaze touch on each person in the group with the last name Steele. There was no mistaking her message. Stay the hell out of my playground, you sand kickers. Then she said, “Bobby Ray, did you try to burn down the sports complex?”
“I…no…I…”
“Don’t lie to me,” she said. “I found glass shards behind that desk and the neck of the bottle. I can get prints off the bigger pieces. So, if you threw that thing, you’d better fess up now.”
His gaze darted over each of them and his throat bobbed with panic. Oh, yeah. He was caving. Come on, buddy. Give it up.
Boom. His shoulders slumped and his head went down. “I thought it would be for the best.”
“To commit arson.” Maggie’s laugh was sharp and disbelieving. “Yeah, that’s often the case.” Grif could hear her unspoken words. You dipshit.
“You boys,” she pointed a finger—one, two, three, four—at each of them in turn. “Go wish your mom a happy birthday and I’ll take care of our friend here.” Then she discreetly put the cuffs on the city manager and walked him toward the outside of the pavilion as if they were simply having a friendly chat.
That’s when Grif noticed a dark line snaking its way down the inside of the city manager’s pant leg. “I’ll be damned. Take a look at that.”
Reid’s grin went wide. “I thought I smelled piss.”
* * *
“Maggie should swear us in.” Jonah shoved his hands into his front pockets. “We tracked down an arsonist and it’s not even dinnertime yet.”
“We had a bit of help from Jeanine,” Grif said.
“Maybe she should be deputized, too.”
“The old bat freaks me out,” Reid said. “Have you read the chalkboard signs outside the bakery? I swear they’re prophetic.”
“Don’t be so damned paranoid,” Britt said. “She’s the town’s biggest gossip. That’s all.”
“No way, Tarzan. She knows things that have never made it to the gossip mill.”
Britt shook his head.
Jonah stared at Reid. The dude wore a look as if the Grim Reaper had whispered in his ear.
“Let’s hope the town can find a buyer for the sports complex,” Grif said. “I can’t imagine what’ll happen to the property taxes next year i
f the town continues to lose money on the place.”
“People have already been packing up and leaving,” Britt said. “It’s only going to get worse.”
“Canyon Ridge will be a ghost town in five years,” Reid said.
Jonah listened to his brothers’ conversation while his gaze traveled around the gathering. Although he’d been away for several years, making his mark on Seattle’s gaming world, Canyon Ridge would always be his true home. Despite Britt’s reference to him being a vampire, he’d made memories—good and bad—all over this town. Made lifelong friends who still treated him like the Goth he used to be and not the billionaire he was now.
He studied his brothers. All thriving in their own way, yet miserable beyond measure.
Canyon Ridge, its residents, and the Steele clan had all helped mold Jonah into a freakishly wealthy guy. A guy who could fix a broken town and help a lot of people. A guy who could make a difference and not even feel the impact. A guy who could begin the process of healing his family’s deep wounds. Wounds he’d helped create.
“All we can do is make sure our family and close friends ride out the worst of it,” Britt said, his voice grim.
“Let’s start by making Mom’s sixtieth the best party ever,” Grif said.
“Amen to that, bro,” Reid said.
His brothers started to disperse.
Decision made, Jonah raised a staying hand. His gaze caught each of his brothers’ before dropping the bomb that would change all of their lives forever. “I’ve got an idea, but not a damn one of you are gonna like it.”
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Going HARD
by Kelsey Browning
Enjoy an excerpt from Kelsey Browning’s Going HARD, Book Two in the Steele Ridge series:
* * *
A vee of sunlight splashed across the wood floor, signaling someone coming in the front door. Carlie Beth bolted behind the bar and crouched down. Maybe she could snag a drink and get out before whoever it was saw her. She grabbed a highball glass and quickly filled it from the soda gun. The sweet scent from the soft drink was too much of a temptation and she gulped down several swallows, making her head contract in a painful brain freeze. “Ugh,” she moaned but went back for more, draining the glass.
Steele Ridge: The Beginning Page 3
