Ladd Fortune

by Dianne Venetta

  “I don’t want her caught up in this mess,” Delaney stated bluntly.

  “She knows,” Nick answered for Delaney. “She was there when we received the news from Ashley.”

  “Will she tell anyone?” Malcolm asked.

  “No,” Delaney snapped. “She won’t tell anyone.”

  Nick peered into Delaney’s eyes. “What about the boys?”

  “She wouldn’t tell them. She has no reason to tell them,” Delaney said, as if willing it to be true.

  Malcolm made a mental note of her reaction, then asked, “So we know, and Ashley knows, right?”

  “Ida knows,” Delaney reminded. “If Ida knows, the whole town could know!” Delaney paused. “And Candi works with Ida.”

  “So?” Nick asked, as though it were irrelevant.

  “Candi is Annie’s best friend.”

  “Wonderful,” Malcolm said and slapped his knees.

  “But you can’t be sure,” Nick said.

  “I can’t be sure of anything at the moment!” Delaney cried. “She may very well know as we speak!”

  “There, there, Delaney.”

  Nick pulled her to him, but she resisted, putting several feet between her and them. She paced the living room. “This is horrible—now Jeremiah and Annie will find out about the gold and the fact that Ernie is sick. They’ll gang up on us in court and we’ll lose for sure!”

  Nick stood. “Let’s not get upset about something we don’t know to be a problem, yet.”

  “Exactly how are we going to determine if this is a problem?” Malcolm asked Nick. “Get our hair done and listen to the latest gossip?”

  Nick looked to Delaney for the answers—but she returned a blank look.

  “Are you close with Candi at all?” Nick asked. She shook her head. “Do you know anyone who is? Anyone that will talk to us?” Nick walked toward her but seemed to think better of it and stopped. “What about Ashley? She must be able to ask Ida.”

  “She wasn’t supposed to tell anyone in the first place, remember?”

  “There has to be someone we can ask, probe to see if the news of gold has been leaked.”

  Malcolm looked to Nick who looked to Delaney. The room felt like a ticking time bomb. They didn’t have time to waste fighting in court. He and Nick had already drawn up the rough sketches for the new hotel. If this Jeremiah character challenged them in court, he could tie their hands for weeks, months—months they couldn’t afford. Not with Jillian Devane breathing down their backs from a mountain range over. According to their attorney, Malcolm understood Jillian had closed on her deal and was ready to submit permits. Once she squared those away it was a race to the finish line—opening day. Tension rippled across his neck and shoulders. Malcolm had only been in town for a week and already the time was stacking up against them. It was not a position he preferred to be in.

  Unable to sit idle another minute, Malcolm stood. “I say we force his hand. We consult with a local attorney. Odds are we have nothing to worry about.” Unless there was something Delaney and Nick weren’t telling him. By the looks of them, he realized it was a distinct possibility.

  Chapter Three

  When Jeremiah pulled into his old homestead with his girlfriend Loretta Flynn seated by his side, a slew of emotion washed through him. It had been almost twenty years since he’d last set foot on this property. Twenty long years since he’d ditched this place for Atlanta in search of new horizons, a new life. Slowing his truck, he settled his gaze on the house he grew up in. The roof was falling off, the porch was battered, worn to the point of near collapse. Windows were cloudy from years of dust and grime, the front patch of grass nothing but weeds creeping over a gravel driveway.

  But neglect was the way Ernie Ladd rolled. Throughout his childhood, Jeremiah recalled his life as endless days fending for himself, nights huddling beneath the covers in the darkness, scared of who or what may walk through his door. Alone with his father, there had been no comfort for a young boy’s fears. There was nothing but bitterness. His mother had left them. She dropped him at grade school one morning and never looked back. Not a call, not a visit. Not so much as a card.

  Jeremiah couldn’t blame her. Living with Ernie Ladd was hell. He drank, he bickered, he grumbled and he beat. He was miserable, and made sure everyone around him was the same. The only bright spot in Jeremiah’s life had been his Aunt Susannah. When she dropped by the house, his old man turned quiet. Sober, brooding, and he kept his mouth shut.

  Unfortunately, Aunt Susannah’s visits were too far and few between.

  Tossing the truck into park, Jeremiah’s stare glazed over. Actually, he was surprised he’d stayed as long as he had. But in the beginning it had been tolerable. Almost normal. Then the old lady took off and the remaining years amounted to a prison term. Twenty years, Jeremiah mused. Twenty long years and now it was time to collect. He’d done his time, paid his dues. It was time the old man paid his. Pulling the keys from the ignition, Jeremiah deposited them in the center console and slid free of the vehicle. His gut tensed as he looked to Loretta. “I’ll be back in a sec.”

  Loretta waved him off with a wriggle of her fingers and a pop from her chewing gum.

  Jeremiah shook his head. Loretta was a bleach-blonde babe, an ex-stripper he met in the city but one with the mannerisms of a child. Of course with her body she could act any damn way she pleased. Not like he was dating her for her quirks.

  Albert Ladd spotted Jeremiah immediately and even from this distance, Jeremiah detected the shade being drawn over his eyes. He wasn’t welcome. Even the oaf understood. The prodigal son’s return meant trouble. Jeremiah swallowed old resentments and strode over to the porch. Uncle Al had been as bad as Ernie when it came to the beatings, though his belt had been swung across Billy and Robby’s hides, the sting was felt by all three. Jeremiah and his cousins were six months and two years apart in age. They swapped stories, swapped joints—they also plotted an end to the abuse. It was an end that never happened. Billy was sent to juvie for robbing the local gas station and Robby took off running. Jeremiah wasn’t far behind, ditching Tennessee at seventeen, headed for Atlanta.

  Taking the steps two at a time, Jeremiah landed on the top with a decisive thud. “Hello, Uncle Al,” he said, a notch more cheerfully than warranted. “It’s been a long time.”

  Albert visibly cowered, all trace of ease erased from his dope of a face. He was still enormous in size, still wore the same dingy denim coveralls Jeremiah remembered from his youth. His stringy brown hair was thinner, the scraggly ends hanging down to his shoulders. Didn’t look as if old Albert had changed a bit. “What’s a matter?” Jeremiah taunted. “No words to welcome back the prodigal son?”

  His uncle evaded him with a sideways glance.

  Jeremiah laughed. “Oh, c’mon Uncle Al. Be glad it’s not your own son showing up on your doorstep. Now in that case I’d say you had something to worry about!”

  “What are you doin’ here?”

  At the familiar voice, Jeremiah turned. There in the doorway stood his father. Through the filmy screen of dust, Ernie Ladd was a stick with his tan shorts pulled nearly up to his chest. Jeremiah could clearly see the dark eyes boring into him, magnified by black framed glasses. The old man certainly hadn’t lost his vigor for hate. Jeremiah could feel it from six feet away. Squaring his shoulders, he took his father head on. “I’m here to collect what’s mine.”

  “What are you talkin’ about?” Ernie snarled.

  “I’m talking about Ladd Springs.” The old man stiffened. “I understand you’re trying to steal it right out from under me.”

  “I ain’t done no such thing!” his father exclaimed.

  “That’s not what I heard.”

  “Well, you heard wrong,” Ernie countered, but didn’t move a muscle. Which meant he was worried about his son’s next move. “This property ain’t yours, it’s mine.”

  Jeremiah savored a private smile. It gave him great pleasure to watch his father squirm.
So much, he hated to see it end. “Either way, I intend to find out.” Glancing up the mountain, toward his Aunt Susannah’s cabin, he asked casually, “Is Delaney home?” Lacy Owens had told Loretta that his cousin had moved into her mother’s hillside hideaway. She’d also mentioned that Delaney had a daughter.

  Ernie followed his line of sight and muttered, “I ain’t the woman’s keeper.”

  “Only her benefactor,” Jeremiah said, pinning him down with a scowl.

  If looks could kill, Ernie would have obliterated his son. Gladly watched as his son crumbled to nothing before his very eyes. Jeremiah laughed again, but this time, threw his head back to make a grand show of his disdain. Drawing his head forward, Jeremiah leveled, “You haven’t changed a bit. You’re still the pathetic little man I remembered you to be.”

  “You go on from here,” his father growled, as though chasing off a pesky raccoon. “Go on!” he hollered, retreating into the dark confines of his cave.

  Coward. The man didn’t even have the courage to step clear of the threshold and face his son man-to-man. With a fleeting glance to Albert, unease nakedly exposed in his expression, Jeremiah turned and hammered down the steps half-wishing one would break. That would make it easy. He’d sue and take the old man for everything he was worth. It’d prove a lot cleaner than sparring with Delaney. Was she still as hot and hellacious as he remembered?

  He chuckled. Time to find out up close and personal.

  Jeremiah navigated the steep, narrow trail, carefully climbing over jagged rocks and exposed roots. He slipped on a wet patch of clay and cursed under his breath. Grabbing a gnarled root for an assist, Jeremiah hauled himself up another few feet higher. At this rate, his new ostrich boots would be destroyed by the time he reached Delaney’s cabin.

  Make that her mother’s cabin, the one his father built so she could evade the wrong end of a belt. Her father’s. Grandpa Ladd had been a hard-drinking man with a temper to match. He’d whip off his belt for as little as a cross word, smacking his boys as easily as he swatted flies. It’s no wonder Ernie and Albert never amounted to much. Their father set the bar out of their reach, then stomped them into the mud when they failed to achieve. But that didn’t give them the right to take it out on their own boys. It wasn’t their fault life stunk like rot on a carcass for Ernie and Albert. They could have left, same as he did. But they didn’t. Neither one. They stayed, then took out their miserable hate on him, Billy and Robby.

  Reaching the top, Jeremiah paused, more winded than he expected to be. Glancing at the tiny wooden structure, the basic four walls and porch that had been etched in his memory, he inhaled deeply. The scent of evergreen and laurel and oak permeated his being, transported him back to days spent running through the forest, sneaking behind the cabin, crouching in the brush to evade detection by Delaney. Visions of Aunt Susannah flooded him. Smiling, sweeping her porch, she waved. Jeremiah almost raised a hand in return. Delaney and he had run circles around this place. They played hide and seek, cops and robbers, war—whatever they wanted, Aunt Susannah let them play. Kids were meant to be kids, she’d tell them. Spare the rod and love the child had been her motto. He had longed to live with her, hide out, like she had, and live without fear of ever being beaten again.

  But life didn’t work that way. Life sought you out and found you without fail. Like Jeremiah’s games of hide and seek in the woods with Delaney, one could only stay hidden for so long. Then the night critters came to call and the fun ended. That was how life worked.

  Jeremiah breathed in, filling his lungs with fresh air, his mind and spirit with hope. Sometimes you caught a break. The possibility of gaining title to Ladd Springs had come at a perfect time for him. He owed money and a lot of it, but once he owned this property, the money he could gain from selling it would pay his debt, plus a truckload extra. He smiled inwardly. And he and Loretta could surely burn through money.

  Jeremiah pulled his body erect and stood tall. Catching glimpse of movement inside the cabin, he swelled with pleasure. Delaney was home. Knock, knock, guess who? None other than your old pal, Jeremiah. With a renewed sense of purpose, he approached the cabin.

  The sharp knock on the door stopped Delaney’s heart. She flashed to it, then to Nick and Malcolm. Overwhelmed by the thwacking in her chest, she couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. The tall figure visible through the etched glass was too familiar. Apprehension iced her blood.

  Jeremiah.

  Nick strode over to the door, checking with Malcolm as he did so, as though silently coordinating their battle plan. Delaney was struck by their communication. Constantly conferring, it felt like the two men shared brain cells, spoke in terms of ESP.

  But she was grateful. At the moment, two defenders felt better than one.

  Nick opened the door and her nerves caught. Taking up nearly the entire space stood Jeremiah Ladd. Taller than she remembered, his blond hair had turned sandy-brown. Cut in layers, it was cropped short around his face. While his jaw was set in the firm line of confrontation, his light brown eyes held a mischievous gleam. He was the same old Jeremiah she knew in an instant—the one who, given the chance, would taunt relentlessly.

  Jeremiah glanced indoors and wrapped his gaze around her, meeting her eyes after a lustful once over. “Hello, Delaney. Long time, no see.”

  His pleasure slid down to his mouth, opening it into a smile of comfort and ease. Delaney steadied her voice. “Hello, Jeremiah.”

  “It’s Jerry, now.”

  “Jeremiah,” she returned bluntly. “What brings you by?”

  He chuckled. “I see some things don’t change.” Addressing Nick, currently blocking his entrance, Jeremiah asked, “May I come in?”

  Nick opened the door and stepped aside, allowing him to pass. Without closing the door, he shadowed Jeremiah’s movements inside the cabin as her cousin surveyed the interior. Wood floors polished to a subtle shine, log walls and ceiling marked by exposed beams, a lone painting by the fireplace—a scene straight from the river banks. Her home was rustic, simple, and all she needed.

  “I like what you’ve done to the place,” Jeremiah commented. “Especially the floors.”

  Delaney didn’t thank him. This wasn’t a social visit. Flipping her gaze to Nick and Malcolm, she registered their silence. This was her deal and they were allowing her to take the lead. “What do you want, Jeremiah?”

  Bringing hands to his hips, he slid his fingers into the front pockets of his jeans. Still opting for cowboy boots—his current ostrich more fashion than function—Jeremiah wore a purple and navy shirt with a floral pattern woven into the background. Seems the Tennessee hillbilly had gone metro. Dressed in red plaid and jeans, Nick looked more country than Jeremiah.

  “I think we both know why I’m here,” Jeremiah said smoothly.

  Remaining by the kitchen island, she replied, “Maybe you should spell it out for me.”

  “I understand you’re the new owner of Ladd Springs.”

  “I am.”

  “Actually...” He paused, tapping a knowing gaze to both Nick and Malcolm. “Your daughter is.”

  At the mention of her daughter, Delaney tensed, thankful Felicity was with the Parker boys today. Delaney didn’t like the idea that her child was mixed up in this mess at all, but like Jeremiah said, it was her name officially listed on the deed.

  “Is she here?” He rolled his eyes to the bedroom, the loft. “I’d like to discuss some business matters with her, if possible.”

  “You leave my daughter out of this,” Delaney snapped.

  “What?” He feigned shock. “She’s the owner, isn’t she?”

  “You have any business with Ladd Springs, you deal with me.” Despite herself, she stole a peek at Nick.

  “I see.” Jeremiah nodded, crossed his arms over his chest. “So what is Felicity, about sixteen, seventeen?” He glanced at the men and grinned. “I bet she’s a looker. Does she take after you, Delaney?” he asked, and seemed to purposefully plant his gaze on her bre
asts. “You’re still as hot as ever.”

  Anger spit through her veins. “I’m warning you, Jeremiah. Back off.”

  “You’re here about the property,” Nick intervened. “We know.” Jeremiah shot a smug smile toward Delaney as Nick continued, “But the title has been transferred and recorded. There’s nothing you can do.”

  Jeremiah sighed, a tad more exaggerated than warranted. “Yes, you have a vested interest, don’t you? Building a hotel, right?”

  Where Jeremiah received his information, Delaney had no idea, but he was dead on. Smooth as silk, too, Delaney marveled, and wholly different from the brash boy she remembered. The old Jeremiah would have come in half-cocked and punched Nick in the face by now. But not this one. He was cold and calculating.

  “Too bad you wasted your time. Unfortunately for you, my father saw fit to transfer title without first consulting with me.”

  “He doesn’t need to,” Nick informed. “It’s his property to do with as he sees fit. Apparently, that judgment didn’t include you.”

  “I’m not sure if you know my father, but he’s not exactly of right mind,” Jeremiah said, tapping Malcolm with a glance as though putting him on notice, too.

  “His mind is right enough to know a losing proposition when he sees one.”

  Jeremiah stilled. His features remain pasted with ease, but his eyes grew cold. “I guess banging my cousin makes you feel entitled to insult me, but I’d advise against it. I’m not a man to contend with lightly.”

  Delaney gripped the edge of butcher block, taken aback. Jeremiah had nerve, she’d give him that. Near the same height as Nick, his build was nowhere near the mass. One strike from Nick and Jeremiah would go down. In a flicker of wishful thinking, Delaney almost hoped he would.

  “Nothing less than I’d expect from a guy like you, resorting to trash talk when you have no facts on your side. Pathetic, but predictable.”