Keeping What's His: Tate (Porter Brothers Trilogy Book 1) (7 page)

“Let me help, Sutton. Please don’t run away again. It doesn’t solve anything. Believe me, I know.”

Sutton shook her head vehemently. “You can’t help me.”

“Maybe I can. You remember I can heal. You saw me do it when I was younger. It’s become stronger as I grew older.”

“You can’t help.” She waved her hand at Rachel’s abdomen. “Besides, I saw what it did to you after you helped someone, and you’re carrying a baby. I won’t let you endanger yourself or Cash’s child. Let it go. It wasn’t important, anyway.” Sutton turned, about to step off the porch.

“I think it is. I think it’s the most important thing in the world to you.”

Sutton didn’t turn back to face Rachel, too afraid she would see the truth on her face.

“You’ve tried to take your life. Whatever is wrong isn’t just going to disappear.”

“You can’t fix me. No one can.” She slowly turned back to face the only person left in this world she felt any emotion for.

“No, but I can ease the pain. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

“Yes … or …”

“
Or
?”

“To say good-bye.”

Chapter 8

“This is bullshit.” Tate turned to his lawyer who was sitting next to him. “I didn’t say one word to Lyle when I passed him at the store.”

“I don’t understand it, either.” Diamond’s low voice made him aware his own loud one was drawing everyone’s attention in the packed courtroom. “Knox tried to talk Lyle out of filing the complaint, but he wouldn’t listen. Even Rachel asked Jo to reason with him, but she was just as unsuccessful. She says, over the last few months, he’s been drinking more and more.”

“That isn’t all he’s doing more of.” Tate cast Lyle a glance. The town drunk was sitting somewhat soberly in the front-row seats.

“All rise.” The bailiff’s words had Tate getting to his feet as Judge Creech entered the courtroom from the side door. He was shocked at the judge’s appearance. Tate had thought the judge wasn’t aging well the last time he had been in court, but this time, he knew it for a fact. The man looked pale and haggard, as if he didn’t know what a good night’s sleep was anymore.

The bailiff read the complaint against him, his eyes focused on the papers in his hands.

“Did Mr. Porter try to make any attempt to approach you, Mr. Turner? Keep in mind that I can ask for the video to be played.”

“Yes, sir. That’s what I understand.”

Tate almost snorted out loud. The man’s brain was too fried on that synethetic weed to comphrehend exactly what had happened. The large amounts of synthetic weed and alcohol he was mixing were a deadly combination. The lawyer whispering in Lyle’s ear must be clueing him in to the penalties for perjury.

“If Mr. Porter did, in fact, threaten you, then it should make no difference if it was recorded by store surveillance.”

Tate raised a brow, not at the stern tone the judge was using, but the direction the questioning was going. He had expected to be given a couple of days in jail despite not being guilty of confronting Lyle.

“Would you like to drop the complaint before I ask the bailiff to play the tape?”

Lyle’s face turned a bright red as he glared at him. “Yeah.”

“Case dismissed.” Judge Creech raised his gavel and slammed it down on the sound block.

Diamond rose, turning to him and smiling. “That worked out well. I might not even charge you this time.”

Tate opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, she changed her mind.

“Of course, that wouldn’t be good business.”

“I’ve been giving you enough business lately. You should let this one be a freebie.”

“I would, but there is a new pair of heels I’m dying to buy.” She picked up her briefcase. “Maybe next time.”

Tate watched as his lawyer left the courtroom. He was sure she would be able to buy several pairs of those expensive shoes she liked to wear on the fees she charged him.

Lyle gave him a smug-ass grin as he asked the bailiff to escort him out of the courtroom. Tate’s hands clenched at his side. If he wasn’t sure he would be forking over another fee to Diamond to buy matching purses, he would kick Lyle’s ass.

“Tate.”

He turned to see Judge Creech motioning to him from a doorway at the side of his bench. Surprised, he followed the judge through the door and down a small hallway to his office.

The judge closed the door behind them. Then he took off his robe, throwing it over a chair next to his large, wooden desk before taking a seat. Opening the drawer, he pulled out a whiskey bottle and poured himself a drink.

“You need to give Lyle a wide berth, or you’re going to find yourself in jail again.”

Since when did the judge offer anyone advice, much less him?

“I’ve been trying to do that, but in a town the size of Treepoint, it’s kind of hard to do.”

The judge lifted the whiskey glass, draining it before pouring himself another. “Try harder.”

“Since when do you give a fuck what I do?”

Judge Creech leaned back in his chair, gazing down into his glass. “I don’t.” He swallowed his second drink then set his glass down on the table before staring up at him.

“Have you seen Sutton since she’s been back in town?”

“Is that what this is all about? Are you worried Sutton and I will start something again?” Tate snorted. “I don’t fuck married women.”

Tate refused to feel guilty when the older man’s face whitened at his choice of words.

“Her husband has been dead for six years.”

Tate hid his surprise by shrugging. “It still doesn’t matter. Your daughter broke up with me, remember?”

“How could I forget?”

Tate didn’t understand the expression that crossed the judge’s face. It was a mix of agony and regret.

“If you do see her again, tell her that her mother isn’t doing well and would like to see her.”

He didn’t know how to reply, stunned that he was asked to pass along a message to Sutton when all they had to do was pick up the phone.

“Why don’t you call her and tell her yourself?”

“Sutton hasn’t talked to her mother or I since she graduated high school.”

Shocked by the judge telling him his family’s problems, it took Tate a minute to realize the man was waiting for an answer.

“I only saw her for a few minutes when she was at Pap’s house. We didn’t exactly spend any time shootin’ the shit. It was more ‘hi and bye’, which is the way both of us want to keep it. What Sutton and I had ended when she cheated on me with Cash.”

“Sutton never cheated on you. She’s not capable of cheating on anyone she loves.”

“Really?” Tate said mockingly. “Then who got out of Cash’s truck the day I saw them together. It sure fucking looked like Sutton.”

The man’s shoulders slumped. The confident judge Tate had known for years was replaced by a man who seemed twice his age with regret shining from his eyes.

“Sutton didn’t cheat on you, but I guess it doesn’t matter to you now any more than it did back then.” Judge Creech waved his hand toward his door. “Try to stay out of trouble, Tate. I’m retiring next month, and the next judge won’t be as lenient with you as I have been.”

“When the fuck were you ever lenient with me?”

“Ask that lawyer of yours. I could have made sure Rachel and those asshole brothers were taken away from you years ago. When did you ever hear about a known drug dealer keeping custody of kids? Greer could have been given a couple of years for selling to that undercover cop and planting evidence when Knox was accused for the murder of Samantha Langley. And, your ass should have been sitting in jail for six months when you assaulted Lyle.”

“If that’s true, then why cut me some slack when you hate me? You made that plain enough when I was dating Sutton.”

“If you’re so fucking smart, why don’t you figure it out?”

Tate frowned. “You did it because of Sutton?”

“Now you’re using that brain your mama gave you. Why don’t you go home and smoke some of that weed you’re so proud of and think on it a while.”

The judge placed his bottle of whiskey back in the drawer with the glass before standing up and walking toward the door.

“Why are you telling me this now? Sutton and I were over a long time ago.”

The judge opened the door before turning back to him. “You didn’t deserve Sutton then, and you still don’t. I wanted a man who would give his life for her, protect and love my baby girl the way her mother and I did. I kept waiting for you to prove me wrong. I
wanted
you to prove me wrong.” He shook his head at him. “You’re too big an asshole to realize what you let go, though. God help you when you do.”

The man left him speechless. He was tempted to go to Sutton and ask her what the hell her father was talking about, but truthfully, he didn’t want to know. No good ever came from dredging up the past. Like a coon dog, it was better to let the fuckers sleep. When you woke one up, the bastards never shut up. They could keep you awake for hours before they quieted down, and he had lost enough sleep over Sutton already.

*  *  *

Sutton pushed the broom under Pap’s bed, sweeping several huge dust bunnies out along with am old shoebox. She stared down at the box, recognizing it instantly. Bending over, she set it on the bed then returned to cleaning under the bed. She grabbed the dustpan, sweeping the huge pile up and tossing it into the trash can in the kitchen.

She went to the refrigerator, taking out a cold beer and popping the top. She took a long drink before going back into the bedroom and picking up the box, tucking it under her arm. Carrying the box and beer to the front porch, she sat down on the rocking chair, propping her feet onto the porch rail. She drank half the beer before she took the top off the box and stared at the myriad photos taken the summer she had been with Tate.

Taking another swallow of her beer, she picked up the first photo, gazing down into Tate’s roughly hewn features. He was wearing the straw hat she hated. Shirtless and covered in sweat, he had stood, braced against the same porch rail that her feet rested on now.

She still remembered that day. They had walked through the woods from his house. He had stopped halfway to her house, pulling her close for their first kiss. The unexpected passion he had raised in her had frightened her into breaking away from him. Then she had run the rest of the way back to Pap’s house. Tate had chased after her, his laughter following her.

He hadn’t changed much from his picture other than a few lines at the corners of his eyes, and his body had become more muscular. The biggest difference was his eyes. The man she had seen the other day showed no mercy.

Sutton dropped the picture back into the box, picking up another one. In this one, they were lying on a quilt under a huge oak tree. She was on her back, staring up into his face. Tate was lying next to her as they stared at each other. The truth of their relationship was caught in that moment by Rachel who had caught them off-guard, taking the picture.

Her face was filled with a mixture of love and need, baring her soul. Tate’s expression was just as telling. She had just been too innocent to recognize it for what it was—passion and want. His was missing the deeper emotions so easily read on hers.

Sutton crushed the photo in her hand before returning it to the old shoebox and putting the lid back on top. Then she lifted the beer bottle to her lips and was staring blindly into the dark woods, lost in the past, when a crack of gunfire filled the night.

Sutton’s feet dropped to the wooden porch as she jumped up, listening as another shot rang out. She then ran inside the house, picking up her cell phone and calling 911.

The emergency operator sounded tired when she came on the line. “911, what is your emergency?”

“This is Sutton Creech. I live at 540 South Benson Road. I was outside and heard gunshots.”

“Is there a victim?”

“I don’t know. All I heard was gunfire.”

“We’ll send a patrol car out and a deputy to take your statement.”

“Thank you.”

After the operator disconnected the call, Sutton went to her front door, which she had left open, closing it and slamming the lock in place. She hadn’t heard another shot, so to calm her taut nerves, she told herself it was probably Tate or one of his brothers out hunting.

She stood there, looking out her front window, until she saw a police car pull up outside her house with its blue lights flashing. Sutton watched a huge man get out of the sheriff’s car. His size alone was reassuring enough for her to unlock and open the door before he was able to reach the front porch.

“Ms. Creech?” the sheriff asked.

“Yes.”

“I’m Knox Bates. The dispatcher said you heard shots. Any idea which direction they came from?”

Sutton pointed to the woods that led down to the road into town. The sheriff pressed a button on the radio on his shoulder, sending a deputy to the direction she had pointed.

“Thanks for your help. Go inside and lock your doors.” Sheriff Bates turned to leave.

“That’s it?” Sutton questioned, thinking he would at least take down a statement.

“Pretty much. You told the dispatcher you didn’t see anything. Is that correct?”

“Yes, I only heard two shots.”

“Then there isn’t any more information you can give me. My time is better spent trying to find where the shots came from. Don’t you agree?” The huge man raised a questioning brow at her.

Sutton blew out an aggravated breath. “Yes.”

“Go inside and lock your door. Let me and my deputy do our jobs.”

She went inside her house, shutting the door behind her and locking it again. She stared out the window as the sheriff pulled out of her gravel driveway then dropped the curtain to hide the inky darkness that had her regretting her decision to stay alone at Pap’s house.

She needed her head examined. She knew from the stories Pap had told her that these mountains were dangerous. Tate had made no effort to hide the danger the summer they had been together. With the property left vacant for so many years, it was just another mistake in a long line she had made.

First thing in the morning, she would go into town and contact a realtor. She would sell the house as quickly as possible and go back to California. Then the only problem she would have left would be to figure out where home was.