Upper Hand (Cedar Tree Book 5)

by Freya Barker

  “Hands full with that one, maybe even more so than Emma was for me. But trust me when I say, when these women lay their sweetness on you, it’s worth every fucking frustrating step it takes to get them there.”

  “I know it,” I tell him, before following Drew out the door to where Beth is already filling out the necessary paperwork at the front counter. Hell.

  By the time we get in the car, Beth is the proud owner of a fast-tracked permit to carry a concealed weapon, and she’s happy with it in a way that has me concerned. I turn to Gus who slips into the driver’s seat. “Do you have time for a drive to the gun store and shooting range in Mancos?” I ask him. He just grins as he turns over the engine and rolls into the road, going east.

  “Was already planning to,” he says, still grinning as Beth starts clapping her hands in the back seat.

  “This is so cool!”

  “Babe—this is serious,” I growl at her and in return she sticks out her tongue to me. Now Gus is laughing out loud. “You guys are both nuts,” I grumble, not at all happy with this turn of events but knowing there’s not a damn thing I can do to stop her. Best I can do is try and make sure she’s got a basic grasp. Fuck me sideways.

  _

  After picking out a small caliber gun for Beth, one that would fit in her purse, we spent about two hours teaching her how to take it apart and put it back together, load it, and hopefully only pull it out when absolutely necessary. Target practice was pretty hilarious with her popping her gum while she was concentrating on her aim and jumping up and down each time she hit even part of the body’s outline. Although I almost had a heart attack the first time she did ‘cause she was waving the damn gun around while doing it. A little more secure that she at least had a general idea of how to use it, Gus drove us home and left to do some ‘work.’

  Beth had just checked in with Arlene to let her know she’d be back tomorrow and I’d given Jed a call, telling him he’d have to do without me a few days more.

  I’m not about to leave her alone if I can help it. Not that she’d be alone, Neil is at the house still working on the outside cameras and once done, Mal is apparently going to take his place keeping an eye out.

  “You hungry?” Beth’s voice comes from the kitchen, where she’s been putzing around for the past ten minutes.

  “I could eat,” I tell her, walking up behind her and lifting her pony tail off her neck so I can put my lips there. “Whatcha making?”

  “Grilled cheese, okay?”

  “Sounds good to me,” I pull out a stool and sit, watching her move around the kitchen. “How are you doing?” I ask softly when I spot the worry lines around her mouth. Sure she’d acted all excited while we were at the gun range, but I figured reality would slip back around her with a vengeance at some point.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Beth...” I growl at her in warning, knowing full well by now that ‘fine’ when from the mouth of a woman rarely means just that. Don’t want her holing up inside her ‘can-take-care-of-myself’ cocoon again. “Talk to me.”

  “I’m freaked out is what I am. Happy now? I’m terrified for Dylan, still shaky over what happened yesterday, and I don’t even wanna think about the possibility of something happening to Max. I have no control over anything right now and it freaks me the hell out!” She drops the knife in her hand on the counter, and I barely manage to snag her around the waist as she makes to run past me. She struggles for only a minute before she turns around and plants her face in my shirt, crying.

  “No, Bean. I’m not happy at all. Not happy about any of it. Not about your son, or about this situation—and certainly not happy about the fact that you are still trying to carry the load on your own.” On that, she stiffens in my arms, making to pull away, but I’m not letting her. I slide a hand alongside her neck and use my thumb to tilt her face up. “Listen to me. I need you to hear me clearly. There is nothing wrong with leaning a little when you need to.” I feel the tight little shake of her head and can see her stubborn streak rejecting what I’m saying, so I cup her face in my hands and lean in close. “It has nothing to do with being capable or not, or being strong or not. It has to do with being smart enough to recognize you’re not alone anymore and strong enough to know when to lean on that one person who will not let you fall.” This time she hears me. Her eyes soften and new tears well up, but I want to make sure she gets it. “Babe—I’m that person. I won’t let you fall. Not ever.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “More coffee?”

  I’ve been here for half an hour and am still getting strange looks. Shouldn’t surprise me since my twin black eyes are slowly turning shades of purple and yellowish green. I tried to cover them with makeup but it looked even more ridiculous with than without, so I decided to go au naturel. Not so sure anymore if that was the right decision, though. Every eye in the damn diner is following me around, and I feel like a fucking monkey in a zoo.

  Mal is sitting in the corner booth, nursing a coffee while keeping an eye out. My protection for the day, since I insisted Clint check on his business while I work. He wasn’t very receptive at first, but when I pointed out I’d have a diner full of eyes on me, he finally gave in. I didn’t know I’d be so close to the truth. Hate being the centre of attention.

  “Sure.” Mrs. Evans, who lives just down the street from Arlene and Seb, smiles at me when she says it, but doesn’t bother hiding the concern on her face. “You alright, dear? I mean, it’s not my business to pry, but I see a woman with a black eye, let alone two of them, and I can’t help but think of the big fists that made them so.” She shakes her head, but before I have a chance to say anything she goes on, “I was rooting for him, hoping he’d get his girl. Can’t believe I had him pegged so wrong, honey. I’m so sorry.”

  In shock, I realize she thinks Clint did this. Oh hell no. If that is what people think, I need to straighten that out right now. Without hesitation, I stand up straight and look around at all of the faces turned my way. Almost the entire fucking diner is gawking, and even more so when they watch me slam down the coffee pot in front of Mrs. Evans and march over to the counter, where I pull out a stool and climb on top.

  “I’d like everyone’s attention?” I call out, before realizing every eye is already on me. Of course. I’m standing, teetering on a fucking stool in the middle of the diner. I have everyone’s attention. “Right. So I have two black eyes and a busted up nose and I’ve seen y’all looking. Sweet Mrs. Evans just made it clear to me how small of a town this is, so instead of you folks speculating about what might’ve happened and making up all kinds of stories on your own, I’ll fill you all in at once. I was attacked in Durango in the parking lot of a clinic by someone I don’t know. Clint came out and chased him off. I’m fine, Clint is fine. Police report’s been filed. End of story.” Trying not to look at the semi-shocked faces of the diners, I start climbing down the stool when two firm hands grab my hips. I turn my head to find Seb with a grin on his face holding on to me. “Thanks,” I mumble when I get down, suddenly pretty damn mortified.

  “Atta girl, Beth. Beat me to it,” Arlene pipes up from behind the counter where she’s been shooting daggers from her eyes. Not at me, but at the gawkers. “Was about ready to start throwing condiment bottles.” She indicates the row of bottles in front of her she’s been refilling. Seb slings his arm around my shoulders and leans forward into Arlene’s face.

  “Better not, Spot. Insurance is high enough as it is. We don’t need lawsuits and assault charges to raise it to astronomical proportions.” Seb, generally laid back and good-natured, knows exactly how to handle the easily inflammable Arlene. Good thing too since they’ve been together a couple of years now...and both are still breathing.

  “Whatever.” Arlene shakes her short blonde locks. “Love this small town, don’t get me wrong, but everyone is always so damn nosy!”

  Now it’s my turn to chuckle. Because in front of me is probably the nosiest of them all, and I grudgingly have to adm
it I’m probably in second place.

  God, I need a coffee. That reminds me. Giving Seb’s waist a quick squeeze and winking out of one of my now purple eyes, I quickly make my way over to Mrs. Evans’ table, where I so unceremoniously plunked down the coffee pot earlier, catching a chin lift and the tiniest of smiles from Mal, who’s observing from the corner. Poor Mrs. Evans looks positively mortified when I approach. Reaching out her hand she clasps my arm.

  “I’m so sorry.” Poor thing had her bottom lip quivering and I’m quick to react, slipping in the booth beside her and giving her a good hug.

  “Nothing to be sorry about, Mrs. Evans. You’re looking out for me, and I really appreciate that, but I had to clear the air so people wouldn’t start looking funny at Clint. He’s the last person who deserves that.”

  “Well, I’m sorry I thought he had anything to do with it, too.” She purses her lips. “Should’ve stuck with my first impression of him. A good man, who I knew would be perfect for you.”

  “Yeah? Well, he’s nice enough, I’ll give you that. And he takes good care of me.” My thoughts automatically return to the day before when he’d vowed to have my back. He about melted me with those words, but I made him swear not to make me cry again the rest of the day, and he hadn’t. We’d gone to the clinic to get him his work out with Kendra and give me a chance to catch up with Naomi. We had a quiet dinner at home and tried to invite Mal inside, who was keeping watch from his truck, but he couldn’t be moved from his vantage point. Then we curled up on the couch, watched another few episodes of “Sons of Anarchy” and made our way to bed. Got a little heated there, what with the vision of Jax’s nice tight ass still burned on my brain and the solid and hard-all-over body of Clint under my hands. It started wild and uninhibited and ended sweet and intense. There’d been one point where I was sure he was going to say something, but his mouth closed again. I swear he let me read all he’d wanted to say in his eyes.

  A light cough draws me out of my head to find Mrs. Evans regarding me with amusement. “That good, huh?”

  Shaking my head and laughing, I give her a kiss on the cheek, grab the now cold pot of coffee and get back to work.

  -

  “Beth—phone!”

  Arlene’s hollering from the kitchen doorway, causing every eye in the diner to go first to her before turning to me. Despite my earlier public explanation for my slightly battered appearance, it doesn’t diminish the eyes from following me across the diner. By this time though, a lot of the earlier crowd has disappeared and been replaced with new diners, these come in before the dinner rush and for a second I contemplate a repeat of my earlier performance but I nix that plan quickly.

  “Hello?” I answer when Arlene hands me the phone and walks into the diner to keep an eye out. I rest my shoulder against the door post when a small movement from the corner catches my eye. Mal is tilting his head questioningly. He’s been sitting in that corner my entire shift and must be bored out of his brain right now. I shrug my shoulders at him.

  “Hello—who’s this?” I try again, but this time I can hear noises in the background. A rustling sound. Then I hear breathing, almost like panting...

  “Beth...” The breathless, raspy voice is familiar.

  I instantly snap up from the wall and my eyes fly to Mal as I answer, “Clint? What’s the matter?”

  “Beth... don’t...” Then I hear a scuffle, a loud ‘NO’ and a big thud.

  “Clint?” I’m yelling now, my hands barely able to hang on the phone. “Cl—“

  “A choice, Beth,” a clipped voice suddenly comes over the line. “Your son or your man. You have twenty-four hours to deliver your son, or I start sending your man back—in pieces.”

  Mal presses in beside me and pulls the receiver back from my ear so he can listen in.

  “But I don’t know where he is... Dylan...and even if I did, I can’t...I couldn’t!” I’m hyperventilating and Mal puts his arm around my shoulder, giving me a reassuring squeeze.

  “Better find him then. I will call your cell phone in six hours from now. You don’t answer? Your man pays the price.” Then I hear a click. Gone.

  “Where was Clint gonna be at, Beth?” Mal asks urgently keeping his hand on my shoulder and squeezing it when I don’t respond right away.

  “His office—meeting Jed to talk about the business. That’s all I know.” I lean forward with my head against the doorpost, vaguely registering Mal on his cell phone, when Seb moves in and maneuvers me into the kitchen, away from prying eyes. His arms come around me and his hand pushes my head in his neck.

  “Bethie...” he mumbles. From behind me I can feel another body crowding me and just as I’m about to sink through my knees, I’m being held upright in a Seb and Arlene sandwich.

  -

  -

  “That woman is a vulture, I’m telling you.”

  Jed’s just finished telling me how Sarah Creemore, the client in Cortez whose house reno was almost done, had not left an opportunity by the wayside to get her hands on him. A slight shiver of disgust rolled down my back at some of the ways in which she’d tried to get his attention. Last one apparently a suggestion for a threesome between brothers. Yuck. Not that there’s anything wrong with a threesome, necessarily. I might’ve tried that on once or twice, in my much, much younger years, when I was in college. But being in one that involved my brother? Not ever. I can’t help the smile that steals over my face at the thought of Jed having to ward off an apparently very singularly focused woman.

  “You laughing at me?” he asks, the side of his mouth lifting slightly. I just shrug, smile still on my face, which should be enough of an answer.

  “Asshole,” he mutters, shaking his head. “And by the way, you gonna keep wearing this thing? You look like some kind of cowpoke.” He’s playing with the brim of my cowboy hat, which I’d plopped on the desk when I sat down.

  I run my hand over the fine stubble on my head, feeling the ridge of scar tissue left behind by surgery. “I’ve gotten used to it. Keeps the cold off my head.”

  “Guess you’re keeping the bald head and the scruff then?” He rubs his own rather unshaven chin while still toying with my hat.

  “Beth seems to like it,” I point out, earning me a full on smile. Something I have to admit changes Jed’s face right back to where I recognize him again. It makes him look his age, rather than about ten years older.

  “She’s a good woman. Rarely ever left your bedside, constantly in the hospital staff’s faces to make sure you were getting all you needed. Hell, she even took to exercising your muscles while you were out. She’d read somewhere it could prevent muscle tissue from deteriorating and demanded to know why no one was doing it for you. When the nurse told her they simply didn’t have the staff or the funding for that, she took it upon herself to do it. Pretty damn good woman, if you ask me.”

  I didn’t know that. Granted, I’d lost a month and that was still at times fucking with my head. Despite the fact that I’d gotten up to speed on most things, no one told me about that. The thought of Beth caring for me so obviously, when I wasn’t aware, hits me deep. I wasted my time with her. A fucking year I let her keep me at bay. As far as I can tell from what I know now, she’s cared all along. Not going to waste any more though, the first chance I get, I’m gonna quit beating around the bush and tell her exactly how I feel. Been hinting at it, but never quite said the words to her.

  “She is,” I agree, “and the first chance I get I’m gonna let her know.”

  “Maybe it’s the hat,” Jed jokes. “Can’t be your ugly mug, ‘cause we both know I’m the better-looking one.” With a flourish he plants the cowboy hat on his head. Tugging on it until the brim throws a shadow over his eyes.

  “Wanna leave my hat alone?”

  “Think I’m gonna borrow it and go out on the town tonight. I hear the diner’s the place to go for picking up hot chicks. I’ll wear the hat, see if it can make me lucky.” He leans back in his chair, crosses his arms over his
chest, and plants his feet on my desk, smiling widely.

  I shake my head, just thinking about how easily we’ve reverted back to a familiar comfort level, not far from where we were before Luanne entered the picture, when the outer door of the office slams open. I watch Jed’s eye’s bug out, and I hear a gravelly voice behind me. “Mason?”

  “That’s me, what’s all this?” Jed says, dropping his feet from the desk and sitting up straight. I start moving my chair around but before I have a chance to turn all the way, my world goes black.

  -

  -

  “Sit down, Beth.” Arlene is pushing me down in the chair in her office, off the kitchen, “before you fall down. Now talk to me.”

  Easier said than done, I’m not usually prone to panic but I’m fucking panicking now. Seb walks over with a tumbler of something and shoves it in my hand. “Drink,” he orders, and without thinking, I toss back whatever’s in the glass, only to feel it burning down my throat.

  “Holy shit,” I gasp, “what’d you give me?”

  “Brandy. Got a bottle I use for cooking. Figured it would work well to knock the edge off the shock.”

  I shake my head to clear it and have to admit, the stuff had its merits, if only as a kick in the ass. “It’s working,” I tell him and to Arlene I say, “They’ve got Clint. Want me to trade Dylan in for Clint. I don’t even know where he is.” The panic is working its way back into my body, I can hear it in my own voice. I close my eyes and focus hard on keeping myself in check. When I open them again, Mal is standing in front of me, a concerned look on his face. That can’t be good. Right?

  “Gus and Joe are on their way to Clint’s office now, babe. No one’s answering phones, not at the office, not Clint’s cell phone, or Jed’s for that matter. As soon as they get a lay of the land they’ll call. In the meantime, Neil is trying to see if he has any luck with the tracer on Clint’s phone.”