Distant Thunder: Midseason Episode 2 (Rising Storm)

by Larissa Ione

  She blinked, strangely unable to process his words. She hadn’t expected Francine to have company, but that was ridiculous, wasn’t it? Francine was an intelligent, beautiful woman who drew eyes everywhere she went. She was older than Tate, but rumor had it that he’d recently had a nasty breakup with Hannah Grossman...

  “Ah, yes,” she finally said, hoping she didn’t sound too flustered. “We’ll be there.”

  “I’ll see you then.” He nodded respectfully and left, and Payton breathed a sigh of relief when Francine closed the door behind him.

  “I really didn’t mean to intrude,” she said. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

  Smiling, Francine took her by the arm and led her to the living room. “You’re always welcome here. I think you know that. And Tate really was just leaving.” She sank down on the sofa and patted the cushion next to her in invitation. “He was actually here on your family’s behalf.”

  For some reason, she was relieved that Tate was here on business. “Oh?”

  “He’s just following a paper trail of hospital records.”

  Oh, right. They wanted to have all their ducks in a row if Dakota ever tried to sue for any reason. Even though Marylee had worked her magic and got the girl to sign papers stating she wouldn’t take legal action against the Rushes or the bank for wrongful termination, Dakota wasn’t known for making smart choices. She’d already violated the agreement to not speak to reporters, and tomorrow morning, she’d get her first—and only—warning.

  Payton sank onto the couch just as her legs gave out. It felt so good to be here, to be with someone she didn’t have to pretend with or be strong for.

  “Honey, what’s wrong?”

  It was both the right question and the wrong one, and in an instant, the tears started flowing. Francine grabbed a box of tissues and scooted closer to wrap one arm around her as she cried.

  “This morning...this morning I found a video and pictures on Sebastian’s computer of him screwing Ginny Moreno in his Austin office.” She felt Francine stiffen, but before she could say anything, Payton let it all spill out, afraid that if she didn’t confide in someone, she’d explode at the worst possible time. Like at a press conference. Or a campaign rally. “He’s so damned stupid! What the hell was he thinking? If the media got hold of those, we’d be done. Ruined. And I’m betting Ginny didn’t consent to being taped, so there could be legal issues as well.”

  “God, that’s horrible,” Francine murmured. “I’m so sorry. What did you do?”

  “I deleted the pics and video, but what if Sebastian is dumb enough to have copies? I confronted him about it, and he swore he’d already wiped everything off the cloud and his phone, but then he turned it around and acted like he was the one who was wronged. After all, I invaded his privacy by snooping on his computer, so naturally, he’s the victim. According to him, he should be mad at me, and not the other way around. He also told me that if I’d only been better in bed this would never have happened in the first place.” She couldn’t believe the things that poured out of his mouth, but then, she couldn’t believe the things she’d said, either.

  “I loved you once. I was a foolish little girl who believed you loved me too. Until I found you with the maid’s head in your lap.”

  His response? A shrug and a casually spoken, “There are certain things you don’t ask your wife to do.”

  “Oh, you mean like raise a child that’s not hers after your lawyers successfully sue the mother for custody? Because let me remind you that you didn’t ask. You assumed I’d be fine with having your mistress’s child in my home.”

  “I’ll get you a damned nanny. You’ll hardly have to see the brat. It’ll be just like how you raised your own kids.”

  She’d thrown a bottle of perfume at him, but the bastard had ducked it easily.

  “God, Francine, I’ve spent almost my entire adult life with him. I’ve kept the perfect house and the perfect family, and I supported him at functions and during elections...do you know how many phone calls I’ve placed on his behalf? Thousands. I’ve been at his side through everything, including this latest scandal, and for what? I let the help raise my children and I gave up any chance to be my own person.”

  Francine stroked Payton’s hair with long, soothing passes of her hand. “You are your own person.”

  “Really?” Payton laughed bitterly. “If you ask anyone who I am, they’ll tell you I’m Senator Rush’s wife. Or I’m mother to Senator Rush’s children. Or I’m Mrs. Sebastian Rush. I swear, no one knows I have a first name.”

  She knew she was feeling sorry for herself, but years of holding it all in were starting to crack her very foundation, and she was breaking down more with every word. She sobbed on Francine’s shoulder, letting the other woman comfort her, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

  She didn’t know how long she’d cried when she finally pulled back and dabbed at her eyes, which were, no doubt, swollen and red. “I don’t want to go home. Can I stay here tonight?”

  “Of course. The spare bedroom is already made up.” Francine stood and helped Payton to her feet, keeping one arm around her shoulders to steady her as they walked.

  Payton could have walked on her own, but how long had it been since she’d been able to lean on someone? Even back when she’d relied on Sebastian for emotional support, he’d gone through the motions, but she’d never felt as if his heart had been in it.

  Francine guided her to the bedroom. “There’s a robe in the closet you’re welcome to use. I’ll go get a set of pajamas and some toiletries.”

  While Francine fetched the nightclothes, Payton stripped and wrapped herself in the fluffy pink robe. Then, her eyes burning from crying and her bones feeling like rubber, she stretched out on the bed and closed her lids.

  A few minutes later, she heard Francine slip into the room. “You asleep?”

  “No.” Payton said without opening her eyes. Her mouth went dry and her pulse picked up as she worked up the nerve to ask even more of her friend. “Will you...would you mind...staying with me for a little while? I feel silly, but I don’t want to be alone.”

  She’d been alone for so long. Even when Sebastian was lying beside her in bed, she was alone.

  For a long moment, Francine said nothing. The air in the room seemed to stand still as Payton held her breath. Just when she began to wonder if she’d crossed some sort of line in asking Francine to stay, she felt the mattress dip, and then Francine’s slender form stretched out alongside her.

  She let out a long, relieved breath as Francine reached over and took her hand before settling in just close enough for Payton to feel the comfort of her presence.

  “Thank you for being such a good friend,” Payton murmured. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “You’d be fine.” Francine squeezed her hand, and a warm rush of affection relaxed Payton more than she would have thought possible. “I read somewhere that the journey of self-discovery is a private one that you must make alone. But that doesn’t mean you can’t ask for help or support. Now, go to sleep. I’ll stay for as long as you need me.”

  Payton smiled. She might be married to a complete and utter bastard, but when it came to her kids and her friends, she’d hit the jackpot.

  She just had to hope her luck would hold, because as bad as things had been lately, they could get worse.

  And the horrible part was that it was probably less a matter of if as it was when.

  Chapter Seven

  Marcus pulled into his mom’s driveway in time to see a strange man climb the porch steps. An unfamiliar rental car was parked on the street, no doubt belonging to the well-dressed dude who had to be a lawyer. Or a politician. Or some sort of Rush lackey.

  Son of a bitch. This was the last thing he needed after meeting with Tucker Johnson this morning in hopes of getting a job at the Double J ranch. If Marcus could get the gig, maybe his mom would let him pitch in more with the bills and she could quit
working for Marylee.

  Unfortunately, something told him he hadn’t gotten it.

  Tucker and his father, Zeke, had both been friendly enough, and when Marcus had gone off with Tucker to help out with a sick cow, he’d seemed to be impressed by Marcus’s knowledge of livestock and ranch operations. But there’d definitely been a distinct chill in the air from the moment Marcus had arrived at the ranch.

  Maybe the Johnsons were still ticked about the time he and another kid from high school had snuck into one of their pastures to see if cows really did tip. Or maybe it was the time he’d done donuts in their yard with his Impala. But Marcus had paid for those sins years ago, and he’d done his best to convince Tucker and Zeke of that.

  But in all honesty, he didn’t think his teenage transgressions were the problem. No, he suspected that the Johnsons didn’t want to hire Dakota Alvarez’s brother, no matter how much he’d turned himself around.

  He wondered if Marylee or Sebastian had anything to do with it.

  Cursing to himself, he leaped out of his car and jogged across the lawn toward the guy on the steps.

  “Hey,” he called out. “What can I do for you?”

  The man turned around at the top of the landing. “Marcus Alvarez, I assume?” He held out his hand, but Marcus didn’t take it. “I’m Oliver Stayton. Call me Oliver.” He dropped his hand. “I’m here to talk to your sister. Is Dakota around?”

  “That depends, Oliver. What are you here to talk to her about?”

  The guy smiled. “It’s a confidential matter. I’m sure you understand.”

  Marcus crossed his arms over his chest. “I understand that you won’t be going near her until you tell me what this is about.”

  Oliver gave Marcus a measuring look, and Marcus wondered how he stacked up. “Perhaps you could go get your sister, and she can decide if you should be involved in the conversation?”

  “How about you tell me who you are first.”

  “I work for Sebastian Rush.”

  Marcus snorted. “Of course you do. Lawyer?”

  “No. I’m actually here to keep lawyers out of this.”

  So this had to be about Dakota’s meltdown on camera a day and a half ago. He’d figured it was only a matter of time. “I’ll get her, but if you upset her—”

  “Easy, big guy,” Oliver said, holding up his hands. “I swear, I only want what’s best for both parties.”

  “And Sebastian Rush is a humanitarian, right?”

  Oliver gave him a wry look. “I think we both know that’s not true.”

  Huh. Okay, maybe this guy wasn’t a complete louse. “Hold on.”

  Marcus started toward the front door, but before he made it three steps, Dakota came out in a pair of ripped jeans, a tank top, and fluffy slippers. It was the most casual he’d seen her since before he left for Montana. He wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or a bad one.

  “What is it?” She looked over at Oliver as he stood where he’d stopped, on the top step. “Who are you? One of Marylee’s lapdogs, I’m guessing?”

  Oliver inclined his head. “Close enough.” He gave Marcus a pointed look. “I’m here to talk to you about your impromptu appearance on the news the other day. Can we speak somewhere private?”

  “No,” Marcus and Dakota said in unison. He almost laughed. He and Dakota had never been in sync about anything. Ever.

  “Okay, then.” Oliver cleared his throat. “You signed, of your own free will, an agreement stating you wouldn’t say anything more to the media than, ‘No comment.’ Instead, you called Senator Rush a—” he glanced down at a piece of paper in his hand “—lying sack of balls, a Viagra-addicted ass monkey, and a limp-dicked dildo casserole.” He frowned. “I don’t even know what that is. But you can’t say it when you’ve signed an agreement saying you won’t.”

  “Even if it’s true?” Dakota blinked innocently, and Marcus coughed to cover a chuckle. This shouldn’t be funny, but it was so absurd.

  “Even if it’s true,” Oliver assured her. “Can I count on you to not do that again?”

  Dakota rolled her eyes, but Marcus had to give the guy credit. Few people could talk to Dakota about a mistake she’d made without her flipping out. “Can I count on Marylee doing what she said she’d do?”

  “She’s working on it.”

  Marcus scowled. “She’s working on what?”

  “Nothing,” Dakota said quickly, and Marcus got a real bad feeling. “It was just something she agreed to do for me if I signed her stupid papers.” She turned back to Oliver. “Is that all?”

  He smiled agreeably. “It is. But Ms. Alvarez? Don’t do it again. Out of respect for your mother, this was a courtesy warning. Next time there will be legal consequences.”

  “But—”

  Marcus threw his arm around her shoulders, cutting her off before she got herself in trouble. There was a definite limit to the amount of time she could hold her tongue and be civil in the face of a threat. She was so like their father. “She won’t do it again, Mr. Stayton. Thanks for stopping by.”

  “Of course. Nice to meet you both.”

  Marcus waited with Dakota until he pulled his rental away from the curb, and then he rounded on his sister.

  “What the hell was that?”

  She gave him the innocent eyes, but he wasn’t falling for it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He clenched his teeth in frustration. “The thing about Marylee. What is she working on? And don't tell me nothing.”

  “Then I’m not telling you anything.” She grinned, all sugar and secrets, and damn, he wanted to throttle her. “I’m making brownies. Wanna help?”

  “No. I want you to tell me what the hell is going on.”

  She pivoted on her heel and started toward the house. “I told you. I didn’t sign away my voice for nothing.” She halted as she reached for the screen door. “Trust me. It’s a good thing. It’s something I need, Marcus. Don’t ruin it for me. Please.”

  Damn her. She knew exactly how to appeal to his brotherly side. He never could resist a female in need, especially if the female in need was his sister. And with how bad his relationship with Dakota had been since he came back to Storm, he figured he could give her this. Maybe if he trusted her judgment with this one thing, it would be a new beginning for them. Maybe she’d surprise him.

  He had a feeling that if he called Ian right now and asked him what to do, Ian would tell him to trust her. To cut her some slack and see if she reined her own self in.

  “Okay, Dakota,” he said softly. “I’ll let it go. But if you need me—”

  “Thank you.” She darted inside, and he got the strange feeling she didn’t want him to see her eyes. But was it because they were full of gratitude and she was embarrassed to show it, or because they were full of guilt, and she knew he’d recognize it?

  Chapter Eight

  Uncle Zeke had lied through his teeth. Or been played for a sucker.

  So much for a “small event” with “just friends and family.”

  Logan Murphy looked out at the crowd of people gathered in the town square in the exact spot where Dakota had dropped a bomb with her announcement. The detonation had taken place on the very stage Logan was currently standing next to as he waited for his cue to climb the steps to the microphone in the middle. Several TV news reporters stood before cameras at the base of the stage, and he cursed every one of them even as he glared at his uncle, who was currently speaking into the mic, telling some story about friends of his who had served in the military.

  “Twenty seconds,” the town’s event organizer said to Logan in a hushed voice. “Senator Rush will introduce you in...,” she looked down at her watch, “...fifteen, fourteen, thirteen...”

  “Wait.” He grabbed her arm, unsure he’d heard her right. “What?”

  She gestured to the stage, where, sure enough, the asshole senator was shaking his uncle’s hand, smiling at the press, waving at the crowd...fuck. That son of a bitch!


  Anger boiled the blood in his veins until he was pretty sure steam was coming out of his ears. Which would explain why he didn’t hear Sebastian call out Logan’s name.

  “Go,” the event organizer chick whispered, giving him a firm shove toward the stage.

  Clenching his teeth, Logan mounted the steps and walked across the wooden floor, his dress shoes thudding with each step.

  It’ll be a small event, Logan. Just friends and family.

  This was nothing less than a damned ambush, and Logan prayed he had the self-control to not punch Senator Rush in the face for it. He glanced at the horde of news people and wondered how much they’d love to get that punch on camera.

  He could only imagine the headlines that would follow.

  PTSD Veteran Attacks Senator During Award Ceremony.

  Senator Rush Forgives His Attacker And Offers To Pay For His Mental Healthcare. Surges Ahead Of His Opponent In Polls.

  Military Veteran Runs Over Senator With A Tank.

  Unaware that Logan was entertaining homicidal thoughts, Senator Rush gave him a toothy grin and held out his hand. As tempting as it was to leave the guy hanging, doing so would make Logan look like an ass and would give Sebastian some much-needed publicity.

  So he took the senator’s hand in a firm handshake that made the other man’s grin falter, and then he stood there while Sebastian yammered on about duty and honor and heroism, which was hilarious, given those were three things he didn’t know jack shit about.

  Clenching his teeth and hands so he didn’t say or do something stupid, he looked out over the crowd. Marcus was there, as promised, wearing sunglasses and a cocky grin as he gave Logan the thumbs-up. Brittany was next to him, and several feet away, Logan’s parents and brothers watched, pride glowing in their expressions.

  He averted his gaze, unsure he was deserving of their pride. And then he froze. Because there, at the very back of the crowd, was the last person he thought would be here. The last person he wanted to be here.

  Ginny.

  As if things weren’t bad enough, as if his world wasn’t crumbling down around him, she had to show up.