Brash (16 page)

“I'm not kidding when I say I'm going to have a heart attack,” Grace said, panting and sweaty as they headed into the second mile.

Annoyingly dry, his breathing unlabored, Cole jogged beside her. “No you're not.”

“You don't know my medical history, Cole!”

“True, but I've seen you engage in other forms of exercise where heavy breathing is involved. You sailed right through it. I'm thinking it's not the exercise, but the type of exercise. Or even better, the reward.”

She faux glared at him. “Can I once again say you have a perverted mind?”

“I don't know,” he said on a grin. “Can you say it again?”

She tossed him a snarl. “I hate you.”

He grinned back. “No, you don't.”

“I want to beat you with a stick.”

“Mmmm . . . I might let you.”

“Perverted!” she cried out just as they hit Main Street. “Oh my God.” Grace stopped, folded over, and just tried to pull in air and not feel like she might explode from the inside out. Oh, stopping was so good. Fantastic. The best ever.

She felt Cole's hand on her back. “You didn't have to do this.”

“You asked me to go jogging with you,” she managed to get out.

“You could've said no.”

She glanced up. “And let you think I'm an out-of-shape wimp? Absolutely not. Better to show you that firsthand.” She squinted at him through her sweat haze. “How are you so . . . ?”

“What?”

Gorgeous.
Sexy
.
Irresistible
. The no-shirt policy was really growing on her. And the white-and-gray shorts that hung on his hip bones showed off both his hard abs and his muscular legs, which incidentally possessed just the right amount of hair. If she was not having a heart attack that very second, she'd jump him. Or try to. He was so damn disciplined about the no-sex-before-a-fight thing, though.

The night before, he'd slept beside her and woken up with a hard-on. She'd felt it against her lower back and tried to coax him to use it by moving her butt around. He'd gotten out of the bed and into the shower so fast Grace believed he might be part jackrabbit.

“Dry,” she finally spat out. “How are you so damn dry and not out of breath?”

He laughed. Silently saying,
You know I do this for a living, right? Test the limits of my body on a daily basis?
But aloud, he asked, “What are you doing later? After you recover, of course? Want to have a late lunch, early dinner? With me?”

She straightened, groaned at the resistance of her muscles to anything more. Dinner. Food. Vomiting was not out of the question right now. “Let's walk. Slowly.” She started forward. “Need to walk.”

He followed her. “You want me to carry you, honey?” The damn grin was in his voice now.

“You're very kind. But I just couldn't bear that.”

“I've done it before. Enjoyed it too.”

“I was not sweat soaked and stinking to high heaven at the time.”

“You think that's a turnoff?”

Her head came around and she stared at him. His black eyes glowed with health and wickedness. She shook her head, even managed a smile. The guy could make her grin through tears and near total collapse.

They moved down the street at a snail's pace and into the midmorning bustle of River Black, past the hotel.

“I'm going to be gone all tomorrow,” Cole said, picking up the conversation. “Back to Austin, and then the fight's the day after. I want to see you before I go.”

She wanted that too. “I'd like that, but I'm going to Palmer's funeral.”

It was as if all the air was suddenly sucked from the town. Cole stopped and faced her, all good humor gone. “You're really going to that freak show?”

His quick ire caught her off guard. “He was my father's best friend, Cole—”

“Okay, but what does that have to do with you?”

“I'm taking my dad,” she informed him.

His brows knit together. “Do you really think that's a good idea? Putting your dad through that?”

“He doesn't know what Caleb did,” she said, feeling a blanket of unease move over her. “This is a connection to the life he had. Maybe it'll bring something back.” Her gaze faltered. “Maybe it'll bring me back.”

He sighed, glanced past her. “Yeah, I get that. And if he remembers Palmer and you, maybe he'll remember something about Cass.”

Grace understood his unwavering need to get answers. And when she felt the hurt rise up within her, she tamped it right back down. They both deserved their heart's desire. She just prayed Cole's wouldn't come at the price of her father.

“You want to go together?” she asked him.

His whole face warmed to her. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” She sounded a little uneasy. Maybe she felt that way too.

Cole reached out and touched her shoulder. “I won't push him, Grace.”

Her eyes found his and she nodded. She hadn't expected that from her fighter. She knew what was at stake for him. And she respected it. But giving her and her dad the night . . . it meant the world. It meant he was capable of feeling deeply.

There was a moment of awkwardness between them. Cole unsure what to say. Grace nervous about what the night might bring. Then Cole said, “I'm going to keep going.” He gave her a soft smile. “I have another eight miles to get in.”

She rolled her eyes.
Show-off
. Then managed a smile. “I'm limping off to the clinic, then. I have a full day of patients.”

“You sure you don't want me to carry you there?” he asked, his eyes bright with humor.

“You better get out of here before I take you up on that.”

He laughed. “I'll text you.”

“Okay.”

He started away, but about ten feet out he turned and came back. Before Grace could say a word, he took her face in his hands and kissed her. Not a hungry kiss, but soft and meaningful.

When he pulled back, his eyes roamed over her face. “Have a good day, Doc.” Then he grinned. “I like saying that.”

She watched him go, so strong, moving so much faster than he had with her by his side. He was glorious.

I like saying that,
he'd said.

I like hearing it,
Grace thought as she turned toward the clinic and propelled herself and her aching muscles forward.

*   *   *

There was nothing Cole wanted to do less than sit on a hard bench in that damn church and listen to a man he despised get eulogized by a man who clearly wanted to claim the woman he was with.

But he'd done it. Along with the whole town, who—despite Palmer's despicable actions—had come together to send him off.

Or down, depending on what you believed.

Deacon and Mac had come too, and of course Grace and her father. Cole had made sure his brother knew that questions were off-limits tonight. Out of respect and care for Grace.

After the church service, they'd traveled over to the Shurbots' place for the reception. There was no way Cole was going to Caleb Palmer's grave site. The man didn't deserve anyone's respect, much less Cole's.

“You want something?” Deacon asked, coming up beside him with a paper plate.

They were standing near the grill in Carl Shurbot's backyard with about fifty others. Townsfolk who had once been friends with Caleb Palmer. Thought him a decent man. It was hard to accept the idea that one of their own could be a monster who hurt women.

“Hamburger without the bun or whatever it is you eat?” His brother grinned.

“Don't pick on him, Deacon,” Mac cut in, looking all cleaned up in a navy dress and heels. “Cole loves a good bun. Don't you, Cole?”

“You two are really hilarious. And this is the perfect place to crack jokes, by the way.”

“Oh, come on, little brother,” Deacon said, giving Harry Appleton a wave as he passed by. “This is as much a celebration of life as it is a celebration of death.”

“You're going to hell, Deac. You know that, right?”

“I do. And I feel right comforted that you'll be there alongside me.”

Mac slipped her arm through Deacon's. “Well, I'm starving. Burger with the bun, please.”

“Coming right up, darlin',” Deacon said, leading her away from Cole and toward the grill.

Cole took the opportunity to check on Grace. She was over at a long table with Ben Shiver, Mrs. Remus, and her dad, who seemed remarkably lucid tonight. Cole had driven them both to the church, and the man had spent much of the time talking about movie night at the senior care center. Cole had wanted to test the waters with a little chat about the past, but he'd promised Grace.

She looked up and spotted him watching her. She waved and he nodded. He was trying to give her some space, let her spend time with her dad.
After all, he was learning nothing of value here. He hadn't heard one thing about Palmer or the past that had to do with Cass. It was as if she hadn't been known to the man's circle at all.

Maybe it was just as well. The fight was just two days away. He could use his anger, his frustration, to bring Fontana to his knees. It was what he'd always relied on. Fire in his belly.

“Someone's looking at you.” Deacon was by his side, full plate. “Like they're interested, if you know what I mean.”

Cole's eyes searched out Grace again. But she wasn't looking at him. His gut tightened. When had the Rev sat down beside her? he wondered irritably. Chatting her up, laying that
I'm a good guy who wants a future here in River Black, kids and white fences and housecoats and boring sex and blah blah fucking blah
on her.

He was about to head their way when Deacon knocked his chin in a different direction. “Not her,” he said. “Over by the garden beds.”

The Shurbot place was pretty extensive and well appointed for a small ranch property. Past the small barn was a row of garden beds, full to bursting with greens and sunflowers.

“I don't see any girl looking my way,” Cole said.

“Didn't say it was a girl.”

Cole was about to deck the man for jerking his chain when he realized Deacon was right. There was a man staring at him.

“Who is that?” Cole asked.

Deacon shook his head. “Never seen him before. But he seems real interested in you.”

Maybe the guy had seen one of his fights. Cole tried to place him. He was busy running his eyes up and down Cole's body the same way Grace did. But it didn't feel the least bit romantic. More like a cop checking out a suspect. But a confused, freaked-out sort of cop.

“Hey, Carl,” Deacon called to the older man working the grill. “You know who that is? Over near your greens?”

Stepping away from the barbeque, Carl squinted. “Oh, I believe that's Caleb's nephew. I think his name is Billy Felthouse. Lives in California.”

“A relative,” Deacon murmured to Cole. “He seems pretty into you. But I bet you don't want to date into that family.”

“What was that, boys?” Carl asked, picking up his tongs once again.

“Nothing, Carl,” Cole said, giving Deacon the stink eye. “Just remarking on how we'd never seen the guy before.”

“No, you wouldn't have. When he stayed here, he didn't go to school or nothing. And he was only around a short time. 'Bout a dozen years ago, I think it was. Something happened to his daddy and he was up and gone from here before his boots had time to settle in the River Black dirt.”

The words went into Cole's brain, setting off a
roar so startling he lost his breath for a second. He glanced over at Deac. Oh yeah, he'd heard it too.

Neither one of them said a word as they made their way over to the garden beds. Cole's heart was hammering in his chest. Painful-like. For the first time in a long time, he felt the rustle of fear move through him.

Standing close to six feet with light brown hair and eyes, the man looked both amazed and trepidatious as Cole and Deacon approached.

“Evenin',” Deacon said, his voice reed thin.

The man nodded. “Hi there.” His accent was strange. West Coast. He turned to Cole, his gaze wide and intrigued. “Do I know you?”

“You're looking at me like you do,” Cole said. He didn't know how to feel. Didn't know what he wanted to happen. But he knew whatever it was, it was coming his way full force.

“It's just . . .” The man shook his head. “You look like someone. Someone I used to know. It's just kind of shocking.”

“A girl?” Cole asked tightly.

Warm recognition lit the man's eyes. “Yes.”

Deacon blew out a breath. And Cole knew without a shadow of a doubt that the man standing before him was the boy known as Sweet.

Grace was unsure if she belonged. Not seated beside Cole, but at this table, hearing this discussion.

A little over an hour before, Cole had come up to her at Caleb's reception, his face twisted into a mask of pain, shock, anger, hope, and fear. He'd told her he'd needed to go, that something had come up that trumped everything. He'd told her that Carl Shurbot or Eli Appleton would take her and her father home—or if she was more comfortable, she could take his truck. He'd get a ride with Deacon.

For one brief moment, she'd stared at him. Wanting to ask, wanting him to tell her what was happening. But his eyes spoke volumes about the torment going on inside his soul, so she'd enlisted the help of one of her father's closest friends, Cory Craft, to take him back to the care center, and she'd gone with Cole.

The ride in his truck had been a silent affair. She didn't ask him what was happening or where they were going. Just put her hand over his as he palmed the gearshift and held on tight. The contact seemed to make him breathe easier. Even when he pulled into the driveway of the Triple C. Even when they went inside, sat down together at the large table in the Cavanaugh family's kitchen.

The man they'd all come here to see and talk to was seated between Deacon and James, across from Cole and her. He wore relaxed clothing, had a healthy tan, and longish sun-touched hair. He appeared nervous but resolute, as if glad this time had come.

“I knew she had brothers,” Billy Felthouse said, looking from one to the other. “Knew you were protective, as you should be. But we both kept our families out of it.”

Deacon didn't like that at all. He glared at the man but didn't interrupt him. Each of the Cavanaugh brothers had come there to finally hear and see and know a piece of the puzzle. And nothing—not even their brotherly protectiveness—was going to get in the way of that.

“It started innocent and ended innocent, I promise you.” A faint smile touched his lips. “She was a life force, that one. Felt it from the moment we met in the candy aisle of the dime store. I was buying SweeTarts—”

“That's where the name came from,” Mac
interrupted passionately, looking from the man to Deacon. “I thought it was because she thought you were so sweet.”

He nodded. “I was Sweet and she was Tarts. And boy did that fit her.” He laughed. “She was a tough, bright, spunky girl.”

Cole's hand tightened around Grace's. It felt hot and a little sweaty, and she knew this had to be insanely painful for him. Hearing about his twin in the past tense. But maybe, just maybe, it would give him some sense of peace.

“Did you know she'd been taken?” Deacon asked, his tone unemotional, as if he was talking to a work colleague instead of the man who'd been so close to their sister.

Billy shook his head. “Like I told you back at Carl's place, I was gone by then. Left for California on the eleventh of May. I remember because it was her birthday the next day and I didn't get a chance to say good-bye. I thought I'd be able to contact her after things got settled. But my dad was really sick, and we were all consumed with it. It's why I came to River Black and stayed with my uncle Caleb in the first place, to give my mom a break—me a break.” His eyes clouded. “Cass was taken on the fifteenth. My dad died two days before that. We were planning his funeral. I haven't been back here until now.” He exhaled heavily. “When I heard Cass was . . . when she passed
away, I wanted to reach out, but it didn't feel right, and I was going through so much with my own dad's death and my mother's grief, and just trying to hold on emotionally and every other way. I was a mess.”

His face a mask of pain, James asked through gritted teeth, “You didn't think to get in touch with her family?”

“I didn't honestly think I had anything to offer. I'd been gone for months by the time I heard what had happened. And no one tried to contact me or my mother. So I thought it was best. I didn't want to stir up trouble.”

The men just glared at him. Mac too. And Elena moved silently around them with coffee, tea, and some sandwiches, which remained untouched.

“Were you ashamed of your relationship with Cass?” Cole asked between tightly clenched teeth. “Is that why you kept it a secret?”

“No.” The man looked appalled at the thought. “Granted, I was a little older than her—”

“Too old,” Deacon ground out.

The man nodded. “Four years. I was barely seventeen. Maybe that wasn't right. But I don't think that's why we kept things to ourselves. For me anyway, I didn't want anything to spoil it. I was having a hard time, and I found such peace and happiness when I was around her. Romance was such a small part. We kissed a couple of times.
No . . . it was a friendship. She was there for me when I didn't feel like I had anyone.” He swallowed hard, his jaw clenching. “I wish I had been there for her.”

Silence fell around the table as each brother took that in. And, Grace believed, wished the very same thing. No doubt, had been wishing it for a long time.

“She had a diary,” Mac said softly, looking so vulnerable and sad Grace wanted to reach across the table and hug her. “Did you know about it?”

Billy shook his head. “Not surprised, though.” His smile was gentle. “She liked to talk and work things out. She reminds me of my daughter.”

“You have a family?” Grace asked, then pulled herself back. She didn't want to butt in where she didn't belong.

He took out his phone, set it on the table. “That's my wife, Darcy. And my little girl, Hannah. She's two going on twenty.”

He turned it around so everyone could take a look at the screen. Grace only glanced at it. She was too busy looking at the brothers. Misery floated like storm clouds behind each set of eyes. They seemed deflated, not knowing what to say or where to go from here. After years of wondering, they now finally had some answers. Yes, he existed. No, he claimed, he had nothing to do with her death. They'd be sure to see that his story
checked out. Hell, Deacon probably already had his lead detective on it. But Cole knew that a guilty man wouldn't be sitting here in the kitchen of the Triple C ranch. He'd have run the second he saw Cole or Deacon or James. Probably wouldn't have come to River Black at all. Funeral or no funeral.

“Her death is still unsolved,” James said, heat-laced frustration in his tone. “I'm starting to think we'll never know the truth.”

Billy was grave. “I'm so sorry. For all of you. You have no idea how sorry. If I can help in any way . . .”

“Do you remember anything from back then?” Deacon pushed, though he seemed as emotionally wrecked and exhausted as the rest. “Anyone who may have disliked Cass?”

“I can't imagine it,” Billy said. “And I didn't see it. She was great to everybody, treated everybody with a smile. And they loved her for it.”

Grace turned to Cole. He was nodding. Probably not even aware of it. She squeezed his hand.

“Anyone that she talked about . . . being scared of?” Deacon continued. “Or who worried her?”

That made Billy pause. “Well, she did think—we both thought—we were being followed at one point.”

“Followed,” Cole repeated.

Deacon turned to Mac. “She ever say anything about that to you?”

Mac shook her head and her eyes filled with tears. No doubt she was wondering why her best friend hadn't shared any of this with her.

“It bothered her a lot,” Billy continued. “She was scared it was one of you. Or her parents. That you'd found us out.”

Cole's eyes were pinned to the man. “Do you know who it was?”

He nodded, sniffed. “It was nothing. Turned out to be my crazy cousin.”

“Natalie?” Mac said.

“I'm sure you're aware she has some issues . . . I'm embarrassed to say it, but she had a crush on me.” He shook his head. “Would follow us around.”

Cole turned to Grace.
The photographs in the newspaper,
his eyes said. She nodded.

“Caleb talked to her,” Billy continued. “Helped her understand how inappropriate that was, and she stopped. Even became friends with Cass. Which was good.”

“Caleb,” James ground out. “Did you know your uncle tried to kill my fiancée?”

Billy looked instantly horrified. “I knew he was in jail for something, but my side of the family hasn't been close with theirs in years. I only came as a courtesy. He took me in all those years ago when my mom was caring for my dad and I needed . . . Christ, I thought I owed him that.” He looked at Sheridan. “I'm so sorry.”

She smiled. “It's okay. Thank you.”

“He said something to me,” James continued, his ocean-blue eyes fierce with hatred. “After I pulled him off Sheridan at Mac and Deacon's wedding. He claimed to know who took Cass, who killed her.”

Billy's eyes widened. “You don't think that's true? You don't think he—”

“Oh hell, I wish that were the case,” James said. “But it turns out your uncle had an alibi that night, so no. He was boasting that he knew who it was, though.”

“He might've just been trying to get you off him, James,” Cole said tightly. “I know how men get when your hands are wrapped around their neck. They'll say whatever they have to to get away.”

“I know you believe that,” James ground out, tossing Cole a dark glare. “Not sure I do.”

“Poor Natalie,” Mac said, shaking her head. “Caleb Palmer for a father, and not being able to get back to the bakery, the one thing she loves. The one thing that gave her the attention she so obviously craved.”

Billy nodded. “She was always looking for attention and affection. Being an only child was hard on her. We used to have great fun when we were younger. When our families were closer, and we came out here sometimes. We were Cowgirl and Cowboy, riding the range. She always wanted to live on a ranch.”

“What did you say?” a male voice cut in.

Billy glanced over to the stove. Blue was leaning against the counter. Though he wanted to hear what was going on, clearly he had an aversion to sitting with the Cavanaughs. Maybe it was because they had yet to accept him as such.

“She always wanted to live on a ranch,” Billy repeated. “She coveted that life. Growing up here and having a house in town was—”

“No,” Blue interrupted fiercely. “What you called each other.”

“Oh. Cowboy and Cowgirl?”

The man's face turned ashen.

“Blue?” Mac said. “What's wrong?”

Two fiery sapphire eyes rested on her; then he shook his head and turned away, left the kitchen. Mac pushed back her chair and followed him. Elena too, setting down the coffeepot on the counter as she went.

“Did I say something?” Billy asked.

“Seems we're all hearing shocking things today,” Deacon said. He stood up and released a breath. “Why don't I take you back to your hotel? I think we all need to sit with this for a while. I'll be checking things out. Making sure what you say is truth.”

“Of course,” Billy said, coming to his feet. “I'll give you all my contact information. Feel free to call or e-mail me with any questions.” He looked
at both Cole and James. “And again, I'm so sorry for your loss.”

*   *   *

Anger threatened to pierce Blue's calm, cold exterior as he stood on the front porch and dealt with the problem at hand.

“Blue, please.” His mother was hovering just inside the door, wanting to step out onto the porch and join her son and Mac, but hesitating as she felt the frost coming from his direction. “Whatever it is, whatever happened in there, I want to help you.”

Something pinged in his chest as he looked at the woman who'd raised him, loved him. And lied to him. “I don't want your help.”

“Blue,” Mac started, warning lacing her tone.

“What?” he snapped, glancing her way.

“Ease up.” She gave him a shocked look. She'd never seen him this way. She had better get used to it.

“No, it's fine, Mackenzie,” Elena said, trying to keep her voice light. “I'm not going to push him. But I'm here for you, Blue.” She backed up a few steps. “And I hope someday you can forgive me.”

“Elena, wait,” Mac called after her. But the woman was gone, closing the front door behind her. She turned to Blue. “Unbelievable.”

“I agree,” he said, walking over to the railing. “She won't give up.”

“Not her, you jerkoff. You!” She followed him. Stood beside him. Stared at him while he looked out at the land beyond. It was vast and dark, the trees and outbuildings just shapes in the distance.

“I love you like a brother, Blue,” she said. “But if you don't stop treating her like shit, I'm going to pound your ass into the ground.”

There was a time when this worked. This banter back and forth. She as the big sister. He the hired hand and best friend who took any and all advice she dished out. But not anymore.

He looked over at her. “I love you too, Mac. But you don't get to decide how I feel anymore.”

She looked shocked. “I'm not trying to.”

“Yeah, you are,” he countered. “And it's gotten worse ever since Everett passed and the land was split four ways. You want what you want and that's fine. But no one gets to tell me how to react to what's happened here. How to feel. What to do. What's right. None of it.”

She stared at him hard, pointed at the front door. “What happened in there? Just now? Because I know this isn't all about my advice and meddling ways.”

A quick smile touched his lips. “What happened was that I realized for the first time that I have no one I can trust.”

Mac looked as if he'd just slapped her across the face. Too bad Blue didn't much give a damn tonight.

“Go back in there,” he said. “To your husband.”

Tears pricked her eyes. “I don't know who you are.”