Summer's Night (4 page)

Chapter 6

How could he have been so stupid?

Gary Anthony sidled up to a barstool and gingerly sat down. His ribs and arm still hurt like the devil. At least the black eye had faded to a puke-yellow color. The result of a hired bully's fists.

All because he got cocky and believed he could stash away some of the drug money for himself, thinking his boss wouldn't notice. What was twenty thousand dollars when he dealt with millions every week? Once again, he thought wrong. Not only had Ravini noticed the missing amount, he sent his biggest goon to pass along two lessons. First, you don't screw with Ravini and secondly, he had three days to come up with the missing funds or he would cease to exist. In itself, the loot might not have been an issue, except he already spent the money, gambling it away at one of the high-end casinos, losing every dollar. With no job, no credit, and no assets, any bank he approached would laugh at his loan application. No day work could make up the large difference and robbing a convenience store would only net him a few hundred dollars. He knew that for a fact since he already hit up three stores and barely garnered enough cash for food, bus fare, and a motel room.

He always screwed up. Since childhood, trouble found him, sending him plummeting into a pitfall every time. No matter how hard he tried to stay clean after a short stint in jail for robbery, the lure of riches drew him back. If he could just get his hands on more dough, he could go back to that casino, hit the jackpot, and show those bigwigs how it's done.

Shaking his head, he pushed that thought aside. Poker and roulette put him in this mess. He needed to find a way out before the hourglass emptied, leaving him worth less than a pile of dirt.

"Beer," he called to the barkeep, hoping to get a few under his belt, maybe drink his problems away for one night. If nothing else, he could calm his nerves with a few shots. He would deal with tomorrow when it came.

For the first time he noticed the old man sitting on the stool next to him, nursing his glass of whiskey. Deep wrinkles marred the man's dark face, his gray hair ruffled, tattered clothes stained and smudged. Hispanic or Native American, maybe a mixture, he guessed. He would bet his bottom dollar the guy had a serious drinking problem.

"Damn woman." The man slurred beside him, wobbling on the seat.

Gary tossed down a few dollars for his bottle before lifting it to his lips. "I hear ya." Poor old guy, probably dumped by a cheating wife, having lost everything in the divorce. Wasn't the first time such a thing happened. Hell, he'd never married, but still found himself on the shafted end of more than one relationship. "All they want is money," he added, speaking his thoughts out loud.

"Money. I gave her everything. Jewelry. Riches. House. She kept… kept… has all that. I got nothin'. Nothin'." He slammed his fist down on the counter, listing to the left.

Gary reached out to steady the man then turned to face him. Jewelry? Riches? A plan began to formulate in his head. "You said she screwed you over? Kept all the goods?" He prodded, needing more information from the half-drunk man.

"Yeah. Has all. I got… nothin'. She… wedding necklace… gold nugget… diamond." He spit with each word before reaching for his glass of alcohol, the hand shaking noticeably. Managing to take a deep swallow, he set it back down again with a clang.

"How much would you say all that stuff is worth?" Gary leaned in close, making sure not to be overheard. It wouldn't do for anyone to realize his intentions and kick the old man to the curb before he pumped him for information or, even worse, send him packing with the cops.

The man lifted his head, deep blue cloudy eyes met his before his chin dipped once more. "Hundreds…"

Anthony's shoulders sank. "Hundreds?" That wasn't even a drop in the bucket.

"Hundreds… thousands. Quarter… mil."

Blinking, Anthony grasped the man's shoulder, giving him a small shake. "A quarter million dollars?"

"Yeah. She has it. I got… nothin'."

This was the answer to his problem! For the first time in a while Gary felt the world right itself. The solution sat on the stool beside him. All he had to do was prod the guy until he told him more information. A name, address, spare key location. He would take anything he could get. Break into the house, steal the items, and take them to an acquaintance that sold questionable possessions on the black market for top dollar. The resulting cash, he would use to pay back Ravini and keep the rest for himself. Perhaps move to a tropical island. Retire.

"Hey, old man, what's her name?"

"Felina. My Felina. Did everything for her. Got nothing."

Anthony committed the first name to memory. He tried to get the guy to focus. "What's her last name? Same as yours? She remarry?"

The man broke into deep coughs. When they passed, he leaned heavily on the bar.

Determined not to let the golden opportunity slip away, Gary squeezed the man's arm. "What's her full name?"

"Felina… Ken… sing… ton," he managed to get out in between pants, trying to catch his air.

"Felina Kensington?"

"Yeah. I got nothing…"

"Where does she live?"

"River…" The word barely came out.

His eyebrows furrowed. He pressed for more, nearly yelling in the man's ear. "River what?"

Sitting up a bit, the man emptied his glass in one swallow, setting the empty glass down clumsily. "River… Gulch."

"River Gulch." Gary mimicked.

"Noth…" The old man's head plunked on the counter, his eyes closed.

Gary shook his head, snarling with frustration.
Damn drunk passed out.
He grabbed a napkin, scribbling the name and city on it. Now what was he going to do?

Taking a gulp of his beer, he headed toward the exit, running ideas through his head. His motel surely had a computer. Though he had no computer skills, he could find his way through the basics. Maybe he could put her name into a search engine and see what popped up.

Armed with a plan, Gary Anthony marched out into the night.

Chapter 7

Somewhat unsettled after yesterday's intense question session, Summer knocked on Mrs Kensington's front door, hoping Night might have vanished for the day.

A moment later, he opened the door, staring down at her with those deep storm cloud blue eyes. Blue jeans and a black T-shirt covered his muscular body. Black hair hung straight down to tickle the top of his shoulder blades.

No such luck.
Lifting her chin, she looked him in the face. "Good morning, Mr Kensington. I'm here to work with your mother."

"I thought I told you to call me Night?" His tone softened, almost as if he attempted to tease, though she couldn't tell from the stoic expression on his face.

"Alright. Night. May I please come in so I can start your mother's therapy for the day?" She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, not quite comfortable with his intense attention.

The corners of his mouth twitched. "We just sat down to breakfast. You can join us."

Her mouth opened and shut like a guppy. "But…"

He pulled the door open, gesturing her in. "There's plenty of food and we should eat while it's hot."

"I'm not sure…"

Even as she tried to protest, he spoke over her, leading the way to the kitchen. Pausing, he waited for her to catch up before arching an eyebrow. "You would deny my mother her breakfast?"

She shook her head. "Well, no. It's just that…"

As they entered the room, Mrs Kensington looked up from her plate, a smile of welcome on her face. "Good morning, dear. Sit. You must eat with us."

Summer glanced at the table filled with breakfast foods and bit her bottom lip uncertainly. "I'm really…"

Night yanked out a chair and motioned. "Sit. Eat." The stern tone reminded her of her third grade teacher. No student dared talk back or disobey when Mrs Gregory-Liam broke out that warning.

With a sigh of resignation, she sat down on the offered chair, her gaze darting back and forth between her patient and the son.

"Juice, coffee, or milk?" Night asked.

"Juice please." She accepted the offered carton, pouring a generous amount in her glass. While she did that, Night busily piled her plate full of pancakes.

"Hey!" She shot him a glare. "I don't need that many."

He smirked over his coffee mug. "Just eat. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day."

She snorted. Giving in, she reached for the butter and syrup, adding both to her plate before cutting off the first chunk and sticking it in her mouth. Her eyes widened in surprise at the sweet flavor. "This is good."

"Thank Colton. He made them." Mrs Kensington took a sip from her mug.

Summer's eyebrows rose. Not that men didn't cook, but she didn't expect Night to play much in the culinary arts. She sent him a warm smile. "Thank you. It's delicious. Really." She savored another nibble. "What did you add?"

He matched her grin. "You're welcome and it's a secret ingredient." Jabbing his fork into a layered section, he took another bite.

"Summer? You mentioned you have a small farm?" Mrs Kensington asked while she added more syrup to her plate.

Swallowing, Summer nodded. "It's not much, just ten acres I inherited from my grandmother. The original homestead consisted of several hundred acres. My great-grandparents lost most of it when they couldn't pay taxes on the land during the Great Depression. I'm just glad she left what remained to me since I now have three horses."

"You ride?" Night asked softly from across the table.

"Not much. All of my horses are rescues, adopted through a program that places retired racehorses into private homes rather than sending them to slaughter. Two of them can't be ridden due to old injuries and age. The third is completely sound but I don't have a lot of time to ride. Mostly, it's just hopping on his back for a quick turn around the pasture."

Night's expression flickered from amazed to intrigued in the blink of an eye. If she hadn't been purposely watching his reaction, she would have missed it entirely.

"I didn't even know such a thing existed." Mrs Kensington chimed, looking at her with a smile. "How wonderful of you."

Summer's face heated from the unaccustomed attention and praise. "I would love to have more, but there simply isn't room. I also adopted a dog, Murphy. She keeps me busy and makes wonderful company."

"Your family must be quite proud of you." The older woman patted her hand.

"It's just my mother, but she says she is." She stuck another forkful of food in her mouth.

"Your father?" Night asked while shoving the final bite of food around his plate.

"Sperm donor." Summer answered, battling to keep the smile off her face at their reactions.

Night bristled and scowled. "He wouldn't man up to his responsibilities?"

Her lips twitched as she chuckled. "No. I meant a real sperm donor."

Mrs Kensington's mouth dropped open, while Night stared at her in bafflement.

"My mother wanted a child badly and couldn't find a man to love. So, she sought the services of a sperm bank. Supposedly, she chose a tall, blond athlete with a high IQ."

"How… unusual." Mrs Kensington stammered, her mouth hanging open.

Summer just grinned. "A bit radical maybe, but since I wouldn't be here without it, I'm glad she went through with it." She grabbed her juice glass, emptying it in a couple of gulps, amused at the stunned expressions on both faces.

"So, she never married?"

"Nope. It's just been me, her, and grandmother as far as I can remember. Grandpa died when I was three, so I don't remember him at all. Grandma passed two years ago."

"What about you, dear? Do you intend to marry and raise a family? Or visit one of those… banks?" Mrs Kensington pulled a napkin up and patted her mouth.

Summer's face warmed immediately. Such intimate and personal questions made her uncomfortable and jumpy, as if she expected them to judge her for the lack of a typical life. "I honestly don't know. I guess it depends if the right man comes along or not." She took a moment before turning the tables and addressing Mrs Kensington. "So, have you been married?"

Night flinched while the older woman's face dropped, her hands clasped in her lap, head down, as if the memory weighted her down.

Squirming, Summer immediately regretted her words.
Should have kept my mouth closed.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry. I should just…"

"No. It's okay." Mrs Kensington looked up, reaching over to pat her arm. "We asked about your family, it's only right you would inquire about ours." She took a deep breath, met Night's eyes, then began to speak. "I haven't seen my ex-husband for nearly thirty years."

Summer gasped at the revelation. Certainly in her short time working with the woman, she'd never seen a wedding band or heard one word whispered about a husband. She simply chalked it up to the woman being a widow or divorced somewhere along the line, but not that far in the past.

"We were still young. I guess I was naïve too, being raised on the reservation. I fell in love with Tom, married him against my mother's wishes. He moved us to Montana, closer to his home tribe of Lakota." She picked at her napkin, eyes lowered in remembrance. "It wasn't long before he began drinking. Just now and again. I didn't think much of it since I was busy caring for baby Colton while Tom worked. He never wanted much to do with the baby, always said he was going out with the guys to let off steam. I didn't argue or say anything." She puffed out a breath.

Night sat tense across the table, a ticking began in his cheek. His blue eyes flashed with anger.

Summer remained still, unsure what to do or say. She remained mute and simply listened to the woman's story.

"Before long, it got worse. A lot worse. He drank every night. I questioned him about it when he came home smelling like liquor in the middle of the night. He slapped me. That's when my nightmare began."

Summer gasped, her mouth fell open. She'd heard that reservations struggled with alcohol abuse and domestic violence. Never did she expect to sit down with one of those victims, hearing her tale first hand, seeing what a horrendous lifelong impression it made on her.

"It became a vicious cycle. He drank and would hit me if I said or did any presumed wrong. The next day, he would apologize and tell me how much he loved me and our son. I believed him even as I began to fear him. I thought I did something wrong to anger him, but soon it didn't matter what I did, he would be furious. Deep down, I knew it would only get worse, but I truly feared for my life. He once told me if I left, he would hunt me down and kill me like a rabid skunk. I didn't doubt that for a second."

"But you left?" Summer whispered the question, eager to know more.

Mrs Kensington nodded. "One day when Colton was three, Tom hit him. That gave me the courage to pack up and leave. Hitting me was one thing, hitting my child was another. As soon as he left for work, I packed up what few belongings I had, tossed some clothes into a suitcase, bundled Colton in a blanket, and walked out the door. I didn't stop until I reached the bus station and bought a ticket for Colorado."

Bewildered, Summer tilted her head. "Why didn't you return home?"

The older woman's dark gaze lifted even as her lips turned downward. "Shame. I was too ashamed to go home and admit to my mother that she was right. I decided I could make it on my own."

Night reached over, took his mother's hand, and gave it a squeeze. "And, you did. Very well."

"Wow." Summer looked at her patient in a new light, one full of amazement and sheer respect. "You're one remarkable woman."

A small sad smile appeared on Mrs Kensington's face. "I did what I had to do. Just like anyone else."

"Brave as your father." Night flicked his gaze over to Summer. "He was a Navajo Code Talker in World War II."

Summer blinked. "I've heard about them. We couldn't have won the war without them talking in Navajo, a code that the Japanese could never break." She wiped her mouth with a napkin. "Mrs Kensington, you carry your heritage well. And, I agree with Night. You possess all the courage of your father and perhaps a bit more. He would be proud of you."

"Why, thank you, dear." For the first time since she began her story, Mrs Kensington's chin lifted while her lips turned up.