by Niki Green
She swallowed the knot that had formed in her throat and pulled the screen door open. The foyer was dark and her eyes had to adjust from light to dark and then back again. When she was focused once more she didn’t like what she saw. Perched on the arm of the chair, looking less than enthusiastic and a little afraid, was Reed. When he turned his head and looked at her, she stopped dead in her tracks and read his lips.
“Run.”
For a split second, she started to do just that. Her feet turned and her body followed, but before she could take a half a step her father’s voice stopped her.
“Peyton.” Big Jack James had a voice that could force a yellow streak down a hero’s back. Peyton’s insides froze for a second along with all of her muscles. Maybe, just maybe, if she stood there long enough he would forget that she had arrived. Maybe she could retreat and run like she wanted to. No such luck.
“Peyton Elisabeth, I know you’re there. Come on in here, baby girl.” This wasn’t good. Her father’s voice had a tone attached to it that she had only heard a few times before in her life. Retreat was not an option. She took a quick breath, turned and walked toward the living room.
As she rounded the corner and stood next to Reed she prayed for strength. On the older-than-dirt couch that had barely any color left, sat her father and grandfather. Neither looked happy. As a matter of fact, Reed looked a little rough for wear.
For longer than she could stand her father and grandfather sat silently and looked at her and Reed. No one spoke and the silence was worse than anything. After another few moments, her father took a deep breath and started to speak.
“Incoming. Hold on to your panties.” Reed’s words made Peyton’s body jump. She jerked her gaze toward Reed and then back to her father.
“Who wants to tell me why I have been banned from my son’s house?” His stare was a thing of legends. Neither Reed nor herself uttered a word. She didn’t know if she could’ve if she had wanted to. “Why he won’t take my phone calls and why in the hell this one—” her father stabbed one of his large fingers Reed’s way, “—has been the good and dutiful son for the last few days without any questions asked. And why you look like you brawled with an alley cat? What happened to your face, Peyton?”
Peyton’s hand flew to her face and she winced when her fingertips came in contact with the bruises that lay beneath the ugly, scabbed marks Kathleen’s fingernails had caused.
She started to speak. She started to tell her father the whole truth and let the blame for everything fall at the right person’s feet, but she stopped herself. She stopped herself out of the unconditional love she had for her brother. Her strong, loyal and totally miserable brother.
Peyton looked at Reed, who seemed content to stare at his boots. Maybe he would take the lead. Maybe he would be the bigger, braver man and lie to their father for everyone’s own good.
“She knows more than I do.”
Rage replaced the slight bit of fear that lingered in her belly. Out of instinct, she balled her fist and sent it flying into Reed’s shoulder.
“Shit, Peyton! That hurt.” He scowled at her as he rubbed the sting she had placed on his flesh.
“Serves you right. Why can’t you just keep your damn mouth shut?”
“The two of you can work this out between yourselves later. Right now I need to know what’s going on with my son.” Big Jack leveled them both with another one of his guilt-causing and tortuous gazes, but neither one of them spoke. What could they say?
“Nothing? Fine. I’ll tell you what I already know and then maybe you two would be kind enough to fill in the gaps I have in this story.”
She watched as her father rose from where he sat next to his own father and walked toward her and Reed. Her father was an impressive man. In his fifties he still held on to his muscled physique and most of his hair. He could still make her heart soar with adulation over his compliments for her and plummet with guilt for not holding her tongue.
When he stood directly in front of them he began his assault on their conscience.
“I got a phone call.” He paused for dramatic effect and would have loved to know that his first sentence had the effect he wanted it to. “From a concerned friend, over my son’s, your brother’s, well-being. Seems Murphy ran into town yesterday and from the looks of him he took a whuppin’.” Shit, was the first thing that ran through her head. If it weren’t for a concerned or nosy neighbor, her father would be in the dark where he needed to be.
“So, being the father I am, I went to my son’s house to find out if he was all right. You two want to know what I found when I got there?” Peyton had a pretty good idea, but she didn’t let on that she did. “I found your brother, whupped for sure. He wouldn’t speak to me. He would even look me in the eye. He told me that he had everything under control and it was best that I left. My son asked me to leave his home. The home I helped him build for his family. Now, me being the type of person I am, I’m wonderin’ just what the hell is going on and why it’s going on and who the hell I have to beat the shit out of for beatin’ the shit out of my boy.”
Peyton’s mind kicked into overdrive. Her father didn’t need many gaps filled in. He had filled the majority himself. He just needed a name. The name of the person who had acted as harbinger of destruction on Murphy’s house and on her and Murphy’s bodies. Big Jack wanted to do what he’d always done—he wanted to protect his children even though they were all adults and could protect themselves. He was just like a mama bear with her cubs. That fact coupled with her father’s haggard appearance made her insides sway with regret—regret that she couldn’t tell him anything. She had promised.
Peyton kept her promises.
“I need to know what’s goin’ on, kids. I need to know if my son is okay. If my grandson is in danger.”
“Lucas is fine.” The truth that fell from her lips made a few of the lines of worry disappear from her father’s face.
“What about Murphy?” Silence took Peyton’s and Reed’s tongues once more.
“Jack? Son?”
Peyton lifted her gaze from her hands she couldn’t seem to stop worrying together and looked at her grandfather. Grandpa Glenn now stood by her father’s side with a comforting hand rested on his big shoulder. “Why don’t we go about this a different way.”
What was her grandfather up to? Glenn had a way of getting anything out of anybody and that fact worried Peyton. He always had a scheme. He always had a game plan. She just wondered what this one entailed.
“I want you two to know how proud I am of you both.”
Reed’s eyes looked to Peyton’s and Peyton’s looked to his. “The fact that the two of you will hold your brother’s secrets at all costs tells me that my son raised you right and that I raised him right.” Glenn James squeezed his son’s shoulder once more and then patted it.
“We all know something’s going on over there. Some know more than others, but we all need to be on the same page here. If you won’t tell, or can’t tell because you were asked not to, then don’t.” Three sets of confused eyes landed on the oldest James. “If you don’t tell, you don’t betray. Right? Why don’t we do this, you two don’t say a word until we get something wrong. If we get it wrong just say as much. Nothing more, nothing less.”
His plan made sense. They would never have to explain, to tell Murphy’s secrets, just tell them what they got wrong. It was sneaky and low, but Peyton felt they needed to know what a crazy bitch Kathleen was. She nodded and saw Reed did the same.
“All right. We all seem to have come to an understanding. Son, why don’t you tell them what you know, no questions asked, and let’s see where that gets us.”
Her father nodded his head, took a deep breath and began.
“Murphy won’t take my calls and when I go over there he won’t let me through the door. I can see through the windows. The place is a damned mess. Just like his face. Just like your face.”
Peyton felt like her scratched-up face had
a flashing neon light beneath it.
“We also know that Kathleen seems to be out of town and that until yesterday Lucas was at your house. Did Kathleen have something to do with all this? Did she destroy her and Murphy’s house? Did she hurt Lucas?”
Her father’s questions were coming one after another and they were making Peyton’s head spin. She couldn’t answer them, but her father’s last questions were asked to her face directly, with him barely an inch away from it. Everything was happening so fast. Her father was barking questions. Her grandfather was trying to reel his son back in and her brother was trying to deflect the questions his way. One up for Reed in Peyton’s book—he was trying, though it did little good.
“Is my grandson hurt?”
“Son, we said no questions.”
“Peyton already told you he was fine, take her word. She would never lie to you about Lucas’s safety.”
“You two need to tell me what is goin’ on.”
“Son, just calm down and we’ll get to the bottom of this.”
“It’s not Peyton’s fault. Quit yelling at her like it is.” Reed’s protective side was in full swing as he spoke to their father.
“Then whose fault is it, Reed?” The mile-a-minute questions and booming voices stopped.
“It’s my fault.”
During the last few minutes none of them had noticed the front door open and the newest James arrive. Murphy stood in the archway leading from the foyer into the living room and stared his father down. Peyton held in the gasp she felt rise in her throat when she saw her brother. He looked awful. His face was still bruised and battered, just like her own, his golden locks were disheveled and his eyes were rimmed in red as if he hadn’t slept in days. He probably hadn’t.
“You can stop with the inquisition. I’m here now and I’ll tell you every last detail.” Murphy left his spot by the archway and walked straight to their father. Peyton watched her father’s expression speed through a million emotions. In the end he said nothing. He just opened his arms and Murphy walked into them.
Peyton felt the bite of stinging tears close her throat and then fill her eyes. She watched the two men as everyone else did. They said nothing, they never moved. Her father just held her brother and her brother let him. It was Grandpa Glenn who broke the silence.
“Why don’t the three of us take a walk. These old legs could use the exercise.” He donned his hat, walked past her father and brother and she and Reed followed closely behind. The trio didn’t stop until they were nestled in the barn, far from the house, out of sight and out of mind.
Reed made his way to the stall he had moved Cinnamon Stick to and rubbed the mare’s neck as she offered it to him. Grandpa Glenn found a chair that had seen better days and took a seat and Peyton settled for one of the lowest bales of hay stacked in the hallway to rest on.
“This is one big fucked-up mess.” Reed’s voice shattered the quiet of the hallway and Peyton was glad that it did.
“Yes, it is,” her grandfather said. “What happened to your face, Peyton?”
“I thought we said no questions?” Peyton looked at her grandfather and quirked her eyebrow.
“That rule only applied to you two and your daddy. It has no bearing on me. Now what happened to that pretty face?”
“Got in a fight.” Was all Peyton could tell him. It was the truth—most of it.
“D’you win?”
“You bet your ass I did.” Peyton smiled as her grandfather and brother chuckled at her statement.
“That’s my girl.” The talking stopped and stillness took its place.
Peyton wondered if Murphy would tell their father everything. She wondered what her father would say and what he would do. She also wondered how long it would take for her father to tell her mother what had transpired today. Lexie James would not be happy. She would cry for Murphy. She would cry for Peyton and then she would denounce the tears and turn her attention to righting what or who had wronged her kids.
Peyton took a deep, cleansing breath and let the air and the aromas from the barn fill her nostrils and her soul. When the scents hit her system, so did furious flashbacks.
She and Brent on Chase’s wedding day. She and Brent in the barn on Chase’s wedding day. Brent’s hands holding her hips. Brent’s fingers caressing her nipples. Brent’s lips loving hers and his cock invading her body. A shiver ran through her and for a split second she could sense him filling her.
Stop it, her mind willed her body with no luck. All she could see when she closed her eyes was him. All she could hear when she closed out everything else was her own moans of pleasure. All she could feel in her heart was regret—regret that she wanted nothing more than to do it again.
But she knew you could want for days, weeks and even years and there was nothing you could do about it.
Wanting was a waste of time, but what a way to waste it.
Chapter Twelve
Brent sat on the front porch of the main house and rocked slowly back and forth in one of the numerous chairs available as he stared off into space. The only noise that could be heard across the great expanse of land that was his and his brothers’ was the slight noise coming from inside the house.
Brent listened as his brothers and Jocelyn laughed and carried on with one another as they finished off what was left of the beer from the wedding reception days ago.
He smiled to himself when he heard the group inside burst out laughing about whatever Hayden had said. Brent could imagine what the conversation was about. He should go inside and join them, but he didn’t. Instead he sat alone with the night and his thoughts—his thoughts about Peyton and what had happened between them.
He hadn’t intended for it to happen, but it had. Sex had not been his purpose for following her into the barn. Had it? He had rolled that very question around in his mind a thousand times since it had happened. Did he go there with the intent of having sex with her? No. Had he expected it? Never. Had he enjoyed it? Hell yeah. He always enjoyed it.
Sex with Peyton was always fresh, new and exciting and filled with more than just hormones that needed to be sated. Did he love her? That was the question. He used to. There was definitely something more he felt when it came to Peyton—there always had been. The past three days, not seeing her, but thinking nonstop about her, had wreaked havoc on his insides. He had gone years without her, but he felt like he couldn’t stand a minute more. Lust would do that to a man, but love would too.
There had been a time in his life when he’d seen himself settling down with Peyton, creating a home and a life with her and having children. There had been a time in his life when he couldn’t imagine going a day without seeing her, talking to her, kissing her.
What he felt now brewing inside of him felt a lot like he used to feel when he was around her, when he saw her, when he took her. These feelings had been around for awhile. He had tried his best to bury them. But she made that impossible.
He leaned back in the chair and retrieved the item he’d had with him every day since the wedding—her panties. He had forgotten he had put them in his pocket. He didn’t realize that he’d forgotten to give them back to her until he was changing out of that damned tuxedo. He was glad he checked the pockets. He sure didn’t want Evelyn at the bridal shop to find them on Monday morning. Of course, Evelyn probably wouldn’t have thought anything about it. She would have simply kept them until she saw one of them and handed the article over.
He could have imagined what would have happened if she’d handed them over to Chase or Jace or any of his brothers for that matter. It would have started a whole bunch of mess he didn’t really want to deal with. Not now. Everything was still too fresh and too new—too undetermined.
But Nick knew. He had seen them—well, not really. It was hard to see from behind a hand. Brent counted himself lucky that it had been Nick who found them.
Nick was from the old league of southern gentlemen and he had a code of honor. He didn’t kiss and tell and he
sure as hell didn’t see anyone kiss and tell about it. Brent wished he could say the same for his other two brothers.
Jace and Hayden both always wanted the nitty-gritty details. Hell, if Hayden didn’t remember the details he sure found a way to make them up. And boy, could he make them up.
From the corner of his eye, Brent saw the screen door open and Nick step through it. He replaced Peyton’s property inside his pocket with every intention of returning it to her—and soon. Maybe even tonight.
It was early yet, not even eight o’clock.
She didn’t get off work at the bar until ten or soon after. He could very easily stop by Big Jack’s and return what she had left behind—or what he had kept. But he didn’t want to embarrass her any more than she already was. He also didn’t want to be sitting in her driveway when she pulled up either. Sitting in someone’s driveway seemed a bit stalker like to him. He could wait. But hadn’t someone once said that there was no time like the present? Who knew? He sure as hell didn’t.
Brent moved his legs that were resting on the railing and let Nick pass. His brother sat down and was quiet for a moment. He started to speak and then stopped himself. He did that three more times before it started to bug Brent.
“Well, spit it out. Don’t just sit there when you’ve got something to say.”
“I didn’t see anything.”
Brent smiled to himself and kept on rocking. “I know you didn’t and I appreciate you not looking. That means a lot to me. Just don’t mention what you saw or didn’t see to anyone else, okay? She was embarrassed enough and I don’t want to add to that embarrassment if I can help it.”
“I won’t say anything about what I saw…what I didn’t see.”
“Thanks for that.” Brent watched Nick lean back in the chair and try to relax, but it wasn’t working for him. He looked tense and uncomfortable and like something was on his mind. Brent took a deep breath and then let it expel. Whatever was on Nick’s mind must be bothering him an awful lot. Brent knew he would regret his next question, but he asked it anyway. “What’s on your mind?”
