Angels' Share (Bourbon Springs Book 3)

by Jennifer Bramseth

  “Wasn’t easy,” he said, kissing his wife on the forehead.

  Emma was the first to greet her daughter and wrapped Hannah in a smothering hug.

  “Gotcha!” she said as she tightly embraced Hannah. “I can’t believe we managed to actually surprise you!”

  The other guests moved forward to greet the birthday girl, but Lila held back a little at the window, content to watch the others. Bo eyed Lila as she kept herself apart, and went to her after greeting his sister.

  “Anything wrong?” he asked, and put an arm around her.

  Lila reached up and grabbed the hand draped across her shoulder. “Nope. Everything’s perfect.”

  Lila felt wonderful because she felt like she belonged there, like a home. No, she thought; it is a home. Just another one, a little farther along the creek.

  “You did not put all those candles on there,” Hannah said to her mother after she’d spied the top of her cake.

  “You’re right, I didn’t,” Emma told her.

  They stood in front of the cake, which was prominently displayed in the very middle of the long table against the wall on the left of the room.

  “The candles were Lila’s idea,” Bo said, and pointed to the woman at his side.

  Lila immediately pulled away from his grasp, distancing herself physically from the falsehood he had just spouted. “That’s not true!” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “That was totally your idea, Bo Davenport!”

  “Lila, you really think I’d believe him over you?” Hannah asked, sympathy in her voice.

  “Hey, did you really say that thing about me—the bit about the school bus?” Bo asked his sister.

  “Yes, but I’ll take it all back if someone will confirm that this was your idea,” Hannah said, and gestured to the room behind her to indicate the surprise party in general.

  “His idea,” Emma said, and moved to grab some plates for the cake from the table, “but executed mostly by others.” Bo opened his mouth, but one look from his mother shut down whatever retort had formed on his lips.

  Emma cut the cake and served while Bo opened a bottle of Old Garnet and poured. Everyone partook of bourbon except Hannah and her husband. Kyle, as the Craig County Sheriff, was extremely careful about his drinking, even though that evening he was off duty. Hannah begged off, which was unusual for her, claiming that she wasn’t partial to the taste combination of bourbon with plain white birthday cake.

  “Put all the bourbon you want in a jam cake, though,” she said, “and I’ll eat every last bite of it.”

  There were no gifts, except from Kyle, who presented his wife with a pair of gold earrings, which Hannah pronounced “perfect.”

  As cake and bourbon were consumed, a rumble of thunder erupted in the distance. At first, Lila had thought it was some industrial-like noise coming from the distillery, but soon realized she had been mistaken when she heard and felt another roll sweep over the building.

  “It’s January,” Lila moaned. “How can we have a thunderstorm at this time of year?”

  “Because we live in Kentucky, the most weather-fickle place on Earth,” Bo said, and took a sip of bourbon from his small glass that bore an engraving of the Old Garnet logo. Lila recognized the glass as the kind she had used when Bo had given her the very personal tasting lesson.

  In the wake of the thunder, Lila expected the party would soon start to break up. She heard Hannah say something to Kyle like, “No, not yet,” and figured her cousin had suggested to his wife that it was time that they get home. Then the thunder started coming in closer, and people did start migrating to the door.

  “I hate thunderstorms,” CiCi declared. She was near the door talking to Walker, Rachel, and Brady, and Lila joined them. “That tornado that came through here when we were kids,” she said to Rachel, and shivered. “I can still remember the sound of the storms before that twister ripped through the county.”

  Rachel and CiCi went on to recount how they had been out on a field trip in elementary school when a tornado had torn through the area. Fortunately, they were visiting some caves in the northern part of the county near the Bluegrass Parkway and took shelter inside them until the storms had passed.

  “Tornados scare the hell out of me,” said Walker. “I’ve seen rickhouses destroyed by them. Not a pretty sight.”

  “Have you lived through one?” Lila asked.

  “Actually, yes, but I was a baby. I don’t remember anything. It destroyed our house, though,” Walker said, taking a sip of bourbon.

  CiCi was about to say something when a very large clap of thunder erupted right over the visitors’ center.

  “And I think that’s my cue to leave, folks,” CiCi said, and Rachel and Brady agreed with her. Walker stopped her before she left and asked when the next BourbonDaze committee meeting was. She told him she wasn’t sure, and gave him her email at work. “Email me so I’ll have your email address and I’ll add you to the committee list. I’ve got the honor of serving as the committee secretary again this year.”

  CiCi, Rachel, Brady, and Walker all left together after hugs and handshakes all around. By the time the four of them made it to the front doors, it was pouring down rain. The harsh, peppering sound resonated on the glass dome above the visitors’ center and reverberated throughout the entire building.

  “I’ve got to get home,” said Lila and went to get her coat, which was piled on a chair pushed up against the wall. “That dirt road to my house will get impassable if the rain keeps coming down like this,” she said.

  “I’ll follow you,” Bo offered.

  “You don’t need to do that, really.”

  Bo insisted to the contrary, and they began to bicker.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Hannah claimed, and started eating another piece of her birthday cake, “let the man follow you home. It’s not like you have to let him in. He’s just watching out for you. He still treats me like I’m his little sister.”

  “And you are, Hannah. Always will be.” He gave his sister a squeeze which she reciprocated.

  “Man’s gone all soft since you two got together,” Kyle whispered in his cousin’s ear as the siblings embraced each other and then their mother.

  Lila agreed to let Bo follow her, but knew that he would ask to come inside the house and that she would happily let him. Twenty dark and stormy minutes later after they had both bumped down the muddy, rutted road leading to Lila’s house, Lila and Bo stood in her kitchen, shaking the rain from their coats.

  “If you have any hope of getting home tonight, you’d better leave now, Bo,” she warned him.

  “Maybe I don’t want to leave,” he said suggestively.

  “Bo, I’m serious. That road to my house can be bad news in this kind of weather. Trust me on this.”

  “At least let me kiss you before I go.”

  “I wouldn’t let you out of here without a kiss,” she said.

  They embraced, and Lila relished the warmth of Bo’s body as he enveloped her in his arms. It was cold and rainy, the kind of cold that always chilled Lila to the bone, and to feel Bo and his warmth was delicious and relaxing.

  Although they had promised each other a kiss, it soon became apparent that both wanted more. Nonetheless, Lila tried to resist her charming neighbor to the north.

  “I’m not going to let you go upstairs, Bo,” she whispered as he kissed her neck, “you’ve got to go before the weather gets worse.”

  “Couch,” he said against her cheek, as though it were some kind of reasonable compromise, and then pulled her by the hand into the other room.

  Before Lila knew it, she was on her back on the couch and Bo was on top of her, with his hands underneath her sweater and fumbling at the clasp on her bra. And she was starting to rethink her prohibition against Bo going upstairs.

  He finally got the clasp undone and put his warm hands flat against the cold skin of her back.

  “Damn, that feels good,” she moaned, and he drowned her sighs with a fie
rce kiss. His hands moved lower down her back until he was holding her ass and pressing her hips to his. Not that she needed any help in that department. Lila was already grinding against him quite willingly and eagerly.

  Things were getting out of hand and if that was going to happen, it might as well happen in the bedroom. His hard, tense body pushed against her and Lila sensed the increasing wetness between her legs.

  Bo moved his hands under her soft sweater and cupped her breasts. “Are you sure we can’t go upstairs?” He’d completely turned the tables on her, and they both knew it.

  She licked her lips and through half-lidded eyes tried to respond. “You’re a naughty one, Bo Davenport,” she whispered, and smiled.

  As he laughed, there was an explosion outside so loud and powerful that it shook the entire house, foundation to the rafters. The windows rattled and the very floor quaked, making the wood of the old frame structure creak, groan, and pop. They both sat straight up, terrified and momentarily frozen. Lila’s eyes darted wildly around the room as though the source of something so cataclysmic could be found in a dusty corner or behind a chair.

  “No…not that…” Bo said in a strained voice. He ran to the front door, flung it open and raced outside into the fury of the storm.

  Chapter 18

  Lila saw it before she got to the front door.

  A glowing, roiling mass of flame smeared itself across the sky over the distillery and the scent of bourbon permeated the area, as did the acidic, sickly smell of smoke. The air was thick with specks of debris and ash, even though the rain was still coming down in buckets. Unable to look away from the horrifying sight as she stumbled to the door, it was as close to a vision of hell as Lila ever hoped to experience in this life or the beyond. Then, from directly overhead, a barrel or something that used to be a barrel plummeted like a judgment from the heavens and landed with a noise like a cannon blast squarely on top of Bo’s SUV, caving in the roof and cracking every window. Lila jumped back and screamed as the barrel continued to burn after it hit the vehicle.

  “Oh my God,” Bo said, and went further out onto the porch.

  “What’s happening?” Lila cried, and dared to take a few steps outside until she stood behind him.

  “I’ve got to go, now,” he said, and turned to her. “I’m sorry, Lila, but—”

  She grabbed him by his upper arms. “What is happening?!” she screamed.

  “Rickhouse has caught fire, at least one, maybe more. God, I never hoped to see this…” he moaned, and pulled away from her.

  Lila rushed back into the house and grabbed their coats and her purse. She thrust Bo’s coat into his hands and pulled her keys from her handbag.

  “What? I can drive,” he claimed.

  “Your SUV was just nailed by a flaming barrel, you nitwit! Shut up and get in the damn truck!”

  “It’s not safe for you up at the distillery!”

  “I have a working vehicle and you don’t,” she pointed out, “so if you want to get to that fire, do as I say!”

  He didn’t argue further and off they sped, as best they could, down the muddy road out of Lila’s property and toward the disaster. By the time they arrived at the site, several sheriff’s deputies and city cops already were on the scene and had blocked Ashbrooke Pike. They were about to be turned away, but Bo put down his window and his identity was confirmed. As he sat in the truck and talked to the authorities, several fire engines and fire department vehicles raced by, sirens blaring and lights flashing, on the way to the conflagration.

  “Where’s Kyle—I mean, Sheriff Sammons?” Bo asked one of the sheriff’s deputies.

  “Up at his house beyond the distillery,” the deputy said, and pointed north. “He called us and said he can’t get down here because there’s a wall of fire all the way across the road. He’s more or less trapped up there unless he drives half an hour out of his way to get here.”

  “Did you say fire across the road?” Bo asked, terror in his voice.

  “Yep,” the deputy said. “Sheriff said it looked like a river, a bourbon river, that was on fire.”

  Lila saw that Bo was visibly shaken by this news and asked him what was wrong.

  “That means that at least one of the rickhouses has burned up,” he said. “I can only hope that it’s the one closest to the road.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Because it’s farthest from the other rickhouses and is at a low point along the road. If it’s another rickhouse—or rickhouses—those are on higher ground. And the bourbon will flow downhill, as will the fire, and hit the lower rickhouses, likely causing them to explode. The fire could even reach the distillery building itself, since it’s at a lower point along the creek. God, I hope everyone’s out,” he said, and put his hands on his face.

  She understood what Bo was saying; it had to be one of his worst nightmares come true. If one of the interior rickhouses caught fire, it was possible that they could all go up in flames as the liquor flowed downhill and carried the fire with it, like a devilish game of whiskey dominoes. There would be nothing to stop the flames. She’d only walked through a rickhouse twice but remembered that the place was filled with wooden barrels, wooden shelves, and countless barrels of highly flammable bourbon.

  The fire chief arrived in a huge red SUV, saw Bo was present, and directed them to follow him in their vehicle closer to the scene. As they approached, the fire became more intense in color and heat, and the smell of bourbon was so overwhelming that Lila felt sick and light-headed. They were finally ordered to stop in the middle of Ashbrooke Pike, although they were still a considerable distance away from the building that was being consumed in a fury of wind, rain, lapping flames, and alcohol. It was an obscene mix of ingredients—the flame fed off the bourbon, as the bourbon fueled its own fantastic destruction while the fire ignored the torrential rains. Surely the angels were not sharing in this debauched feast, Lila thought; they must have been weeping that night as the heavens over the distillery were filled with a host of dancing devils made of thick tongues of fire, cinders, vapor, and smoke.

  Bo got out of the vehicle and told Lila to stay put, although she wanted to be by his side. She only relented when Bo told her the fire chief was about to send her away from the scene altogether. It was about this time that she realized that her bra was still unclasped and that there was probably no way of re-hooking it without exposing herself to a raft of law enforcement officials. She drew her coat tighter around her body.

  Lila’s phone started ringing and she pulled it out; it was Hannah, frantic.

  “Lila! Oh, God, where are you? Is Bo with you?” Hannah rattled in a complete panic.

  “Bo and I just arrived at the scene. Are you OK?”

  “Yes, yes, Kyle and I are fine. I called Mom and she heard it and saw it but she’s not about to get in her car and try to get near it.”

  “Smart woman.”

  “Have you seen Goose down there?”

  “Not yet,” Lila said, and squinted in the darkness, trying to make out figures as they moved around her vehicle.

  “Oh, God, what if someone was in there?” Hannah wailed. “Oh—oh—I think I’m going to be sick,” she said, and the called ended abruptly.

  Lila wanted to know whether anyone was likely to be in the rickhouse at that time of night. Were there security guards? Needing to talk to someone, she called Emma.

  “I can’t believe you drove up there, Lila,” Emma chastised her. “It’s very dangerous.”

  Lila explained how Bo’s SUV had been destroyed and had been his only way to get to the scene.

  “Oh, no,” Emma said. “It sounds like at least one has exploded,” she said, mostly to herself.

  “Do you want me to come and get you?”

  “No!” Emma cried. “I don’t have any business there and I’m safe where I am.” Lila told Emma about her brief and anxious phone call with Hannah. “Poor thing. I’ll call her. Keep your phone on in case we need to talk again tonight.�
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  “I will.”

  “Lila, take care of yourself. That fire is very dangerous. It’s every distiller’s worst nightmare.”

  “It could be anyone’s worst nightmare,” Lila said as she glanced at the fire before ending the call.

  Lila sat alone, watching Bo as he spoke with various officials but never got very close to the fire. She also saw him on the phone and wondered whether he was speaking with Kyle or Hannah or his mother. After several minutes, he finally walked back to her truck and got in, wet and shivering.

  “It’s only one rickhouse so far, and the one closest to the road,” he said. His sense of relief was something she could almost feel.

  “But what about the others and the distillery? Are they in danger?”

  “Yes, because of the storm and the changing winds. They won’t be safe until this one rickhouse burns itself down and the flames aren’t likely to leap from building to building.”

  “Bo, what about people? Are any people in there?”

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. “At least there shouldn’t be. I got a call from Goose a few minutes ago, and he thinks that nobody should’ve been near that rickhouse.” He put his hands along her face, his eyes dark and determined. “You listen to me. You need to go home. Now. I can have anybody bring me home, but it’s not safe for you here and I’m probably going to be here all night.”

  “But I want to be here with you,” Lila whispered, terrified at the idea of both staying and leaving.

  He kissed her suddenly and hard. “I know,” he said, and she saw tears in his eyes, “but you need to be safe. Please, for me, go.”

  She threw her arms around him and heard him choke from the force of her embrace. He promised to call, got out of the truck, and walked back to the firefighters.

  Lila pulled away, and as she looked in her rearview mirror she thought she saw Bo holding his face in his hands, bent over, and crying. It took all of her willpower to keep driving away from him and keep her eyes on the road through the wave of tears that had descended upon her.