Ms Demeanor
Danica Winters
A cold-case Christmas in Mystery, Montana Yearning to be known as something other than Mystery's ultimate bad boy, rancher Rainier Fitzgerald isn't pleased when he stumbles upon the remains of a dead body. Especially when Officer Laura Blade catches him with a gun in his hand.Spending Christmas chasing down a cold case with a man she's not supposed to fraternize with isn't granting any of Laura's holiday wishes, either. But could her favorite time of the year be working its magic on Laura's feelings? Or is Rainier truly transforming from a charismatic rogue to a hero worthy of her heart?
A cold-case Christmas in Mystery, Montana
Yearning to be known as something other than Mystery’s ultimate bad boy, rancher Rainier Fitzgerald isn’t pleased when he stumbles upon the remains of a dead body. Especially when Officer Laura Blade catches him with a gun in his hand.
Spending Christmas chasing down a cold case with a man she’s not supposed to fraternize with isn’t granting any of Laura’s holiday wishes, either. But could her favorite time of the year be working its magic on Laura’s feelings? Or is Rainier truly transforming from a charismatic rogue to a hero worthy of her heart?
Mystery Christmas
“If you knew me a little better, you’d know that I’m hardly ever disappointed.”
“What if I disappoint you?” he asked.
He was going to kiss her. She could feel it in his touch and hear it in the lilt of his voice, and though she wanted it, there was a nagging voice in the back of her head that kept telling her how stupid it would be to let him. If he kissed her, the rules of their game would change. Their roles would be compromised. Her job would be compromised. Heck, even his future could be jeopardized.
“You won’t,” she said, as his lips grew nearer, so close that she shut her eyes and readied herself to feel his lips press against hers. “And we…can’t,” she said, nearly breathless.
But he didn’t stop. And she didn’t pull away.
Acknowledgements (#u8b1c643f-43c6-51d6-a81a-0335a37c4e91)
This series wouldn’t have been possible without a great team of people, including my agents and editors at Harlequin—thank you for all your hard work.
Also, thank you to Suzanne Miller and the crew at Dunrovin Ranch in Lolo, Montana. Suzanne is the inspiration behind one of my favorite characters in this series, the fantastic Eloise Fitzgerald. Just like Eloise, she always greets you with a warm smile and an open heart.
I’m proud to say that all proceeds from the events in honor of this series shall go to the Missoula, Montana, Girls Using Their Strengths (GUTS!) program. This program empowers and promotes leadership in girls aged nine to eighteen. It is my belief that we must support and help empower young women so someday they can run the world.
Ms Demeanor
Danica Winters
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
DANICA WINTERS is a multiple award-winning, bestselling author who writes books that grip readers with their ability to drive emotion through suspense and occasionally a touch of magic. When she’s not working, she can be found in the wilds of Montana, testing her patience while she tries to hone her skills at various crafts—quilting, pottery and painting are not her areas of expertise. She believes the cup is neither half-full nor half-empty, but it better be filled with wine. Visit her website at www.danicawinters.net (http://www.danicawinters.net).
To Mac.
No matter what comes our way, we will always move our story forward.
Contents
Cover (#u12f97b76-a950-577a-ad46-dda64087a274)
Back Cover Text (#u2a5c06c9-e41a-57d7-8392-001ca8082232)
Introduction (#u75c095f6-1322-5f8b-a534-41a4993bbd6c)
Acknowledgements (#u41cab32c-d7bd-5db6-9c56-8ce94a7c14ac)
Title Page (#u77bfbfe2-683c-5b33-b76a-c369d9127c0b)
About the Author (#u7e03d87a-ab82-5aec-8dfe-720c962e763d)
Dedication (#u71c3d5fa-5768-5152-8e29-7864eefb1093)
Chapter One (#uaadc11a4-77dd-5e2e-83bc-b7124a426b1f)
Chapter Two (#u6c81cf06-b24c-5869-8cdd-f43f6533b875)
Chapter Three (#ub5e9a13a-35d8-5a98-9d89-52b52da6c6ad)
Chapter Four (#u311f3733-e503-5253-9800-f7d2abe4f752)
Chapter Five (#u3657b321-c16b-520e-97fb-88d3ff8736dd)
Chapter Six (#uaf41ce8e-ce03-593e-b808-372b00648b58)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#u8b1c643f-43c6-51d6-a81a-0335a37c4e91)
There was nothing quite like the rush he’d felt when he had tried to kill his father. It had been like a charge running through Rainier Fitzgerald, shooting up from his toes straight through his body and escaping in one ill-advised and perfectly placed punch. One hit, one single punch had cost him more than three years of his life, thousands of dollars and nearly all his relationships.
There were times he wished he had really killed his biological father. Just a little bit harder or just a few more punches and he could’ve watched the life slip from the man’s body. If he had died, maybe then Rainier could’ve felt guilty about what he had done to him; as it was, the only regret he held was that he hadn’t punched him sooner.
The prison’s chain-link gate vibrated; metal ground against metal and made an ear-piercing squeal as the gate opened. Rainier had been dreaming about this day, the day of his release, since the moment he’d entered this hellhole.
He took in a deep breath. The cold air carried the heavy and earthy scent of concrete, dirt and broken dreams, but he didn’t care—for the first time in years, he was free.
The only hint it was nearly Christmas was the thick layer of snow on the ground and the black sedan in the parking lot complete with a set of felt reindeer antlers poking out of its passenger’s-and driver’s-side windows.
They looked ridiculous, but a hoarse chuckle escaped him, the sound so foreign that it caught him off guard.
In the corner of its windshield, the car had a parking decal for the Montana State Prison. Whoever it belonged to must work at this place, or was here enough that it was deemed necessary for them to have quick access—which made the Christmas fare seem even more asinine and somewhat obscene. It was as if the owner celebrated the fact that they could enjoy their freedom, even if it meant buying cheesy holiday decorations and displaying them from their cars for the inmates to see—and hate them for.
He looked around the parking lot, hoping to see Wyatt in one of their father’s ranch trucks or maybe his patrol vehicle. Rainier smirked as he considered the irony of being picked up from prison in a squad car. Only in his life would something so ridiculous be possible.
But the only truck was an old beat-up Dodge at the far end of the parking lot. The pickup was empty and a film of ice covered the windshield as if it had been parked there for days.
His brother had left him in the lurch. He shouldn’t have been surprised, but a promise was a promise.
Rainier sighed, rubbing his hands together as he tried to stave off the cold; though, if someone would have asked, it wasn’t the chill of winter that caused him to shiver but rather the icy reception from his family.
On the other hand, he could hardly blame his brother for not coming here to pick him up after everything he’d put the family through. It was the same reason he hadn’t asked his mother to come get him—he hated her seeing him in this kind of place. All she’d ever done was take care of him and shower him with love, and yet he repaid her by being sent to a place where meals were given on a tray and people told him what time he could take a shower. In some ways, he felt like the bastard child he’d always been—thrown into foster care and finally picked up by the Fitzgeralds. They’d always made him feel like one of them, just another one of the adopted sons. Yet now here he was, alone and adrift again.
The door to the black sedan opened, the reindeer antler on the driver’s-side door jiggling wildly, like a hand waving him down, as a woman stepped out. To say she was beautiful was an understatement. No, she was far more than that. Her ashy-blond hair was pulled tight into a no-nonsense bun, a pair of tortoiseshell-framed glasses teetered on the top of her head and her legs were long, and he couldn’t look away from the round contours of her luscious hips. She turned, bending over to get something out of her car, forcing him to stop midstep as her pencil skirt hugged the curves of her ass. His mouth watered as he stared at the diagonal lines her panties created as they pressed against the fabric.
Maybe he had been imprisoned too long, but she might just be the sexiest woman he’d ever seen. She was dignified, classy and clearly the kind of woman who wouldn’t have a damn thing to do with him. She was a far cry from the type of women whose pictures decorated most inmates’ cell walls within his unit, as most of the pictures had been ripped out of men’s magazines.
She stood up and patted her jacket pocket, searching for something. He was pretty sure he saw her mouth form a collection of profanities, which seemed in direct opposition to the lines of her skirt and the straight-edged look on her face. It made him only want her that much more.
Yep, he had definitely been behind bars way too long. He’d never have a chance at a girl like that, not being the man he was, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t the kind who wouldn’t swing for the fences.
She reached into her purse, rifling through its contents as he made his way toward her.
“Can I help you, ma’am?” he asked. “You lose something?”
She jerked as though she hadn’t noticed him. She lifted her hand, motioning for him to stop. “I’m fine. Just fine,” she said, then cleared her throat as though she were trying to collect her nerves. In fact, from the way her eyes widened, she looked almost scared of him.
He should have anticipated that this was what his life was to become when he got out—people fearing him, the feral Fitzgerald.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you. Just thought, ya know...” His voice came out hoarse and tattered, befitting the man he had become. He turned to walk away.
“Wait.” The woman’s heels clicked against the pavement behind him as she rushed to catch up.
He swiveled back, and for a split second he could have sworn her gaze had been locked on his ass—or it could just be wishful thinking.
“Yeah?” he asked, cocking a brow.
“You’re Rainier Fitzgerald, correct?” She lifted a phone he hadn’t notice she’d been carrying, and was met with his mug shot from the day he’d been booked.
He stared at the picture. His green eyes looked nearly black. The only thing that gave away his fear over heading to jail was the slight quirk of his lip. He always looked like he was about to smile when he was nervous. Reaching up, he touched his lip and realized he was making the same face now—except, unlike in the photo, a new set of fine lines surrounded his mouth, thanks to his years of hard living.
“Is this you?” she asked, flipping the phone so she, too, could look at the picture.
“Did Wyatt send you to be my welcoming committee? If he did, I’m going to have to thank him.” The words came out wrong, sounding far more crass than he had intended.
“Excuse me?” she asked. “I don’t know what you’re implying, Mr. Fitzgerald. And while I’m sure you would love a warm welcome, I’m far from being someone who is available or willing to supply you with such a thing. Plus, it might be in your best interest to steer clear of women who would be interested in welcoming you.”
He hadn’t been out of prison for five minutes and he was already in trouble with a woman and, in an upper-crust way, being told exactly where he could stuff his feelings for the opposite sex.
About right.
“Hey, I’m sorry for thinking maybe you were here to welcome me to the real world. I guess I just hoped, you being as beautiful as you are and all...”
It could have been the cold, but her cheeks seemed to take on a darker shade of pink as she readjusted her suit jacket and cleared her throat again. “Mr. Fitzgerald—”
“Call me Rainier.”
“Let me guess, Mr. Fitzgerald is your father?” she asked, her tone laced with distaste, as though she had heard that failed line more than a time or two.
“Actually, I wasn’t thinking that at all. No one calls my father that, either.” He motioned toward his hot pink Hawaiian shirt the prison had given him, one he was sure they had gotten for pennies on the dollar at the nearest thrift shop. “Does it look like I’m the kind of guy who should be called mister?”
There it was, her elusive smile flickering over her features. He was breaking through her icy exterior.
“Mister or not, Rainier, you need to watch yourself. I’m your parole officer. The name’s Laura Blade.”
He instinctively glanced down at the packet of papers he’d been given on the inside. Now her cool attitude made all kinds of sense. Of course she was from the other side of the law. “I thought I was supposed to report to your office tomorrow?”
“Your brother is a friend of mine. He requested we meet and you hear the terms and conditions of your release as soon as possible.”
“Are you kidding me? My brother sent you to meet me at the door? Did he really think I was going to find myself in trouble so fast that I needed you to come here and warn me to toe the line?”
She tapped at her phone as though she was texting. “Actually, I had other errands to attend to, as well. You are hardly the only parolee I get the pleasure of seeing. Plus I’m always there for my brothers in blue.”
“I bet Wyatt laughed his ass off when he set this up. Is he going to leave me here to figure out my own way home, too?”
“You must think little of your brother.” She waved him off as he opened his mouth to argue. “Don’t worry, I offered to escort you. I need to perform a home visit, anyway, so I can make sure you will not find yourself returning to Montana’s famous legal system.”
“You mean infamous?” he said, snorting.
“It’s hardly as infamous as you,” she said, motioning for him to get into her car.
He stared at her. “Are you serious?”
“What do you mean?” she asked, swinging her car keys around her finger.
“Are you really offering to take me—a convicted felon—on a road trip all the way to Mystery?”
“I’m not your father, so I think I’m safe driving you home,” she said. “Now hurry up and get in. It’s not getting any warmer out here.” She walked around to her door and the reindeer antlers jiggled as she sat down. She continued to tap on her phone as she waited for him.
He stood still for a moment, staring at the blonde before he got in next to her. She had done her research about him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous. When it came to her, he could think of several things that he wanted to do—most of which involved kissing her pink lips and hearing her moan his name.
Then again, he’d always been the kind of guy to want what he could never have.
Maybe this tightly wound woman was more like him than he’d assumed. Maybe she liked to live life on the wild side.
Chapter Two (#u8b1c643f-43c6-51d6-a81a-0335a37c4e91)
Laura had always thought it was just some stupid saying, but it was true that no good deed went unpunished. She’d thought Wyatt’s request to help his brother would be easy and quick, and yet it had turned into her sitting next to a far-too-handsome convict for one painfully long and awkward road trip.
She glanced over at Rainier. His hair was flecked with bits of auburn and copper, and when the sunshine struck it just right it almost glowed like precious metal. His eyes were the color of emerald sea glass, their hue dulled and muted by the many years he’d spent behind bars. She wondered if, with time, their color would brighten and energy and light would return.
Her palms were sweaty as she gripped the steering wheel. The Dunrovin Ranch wasn’t that much farther. She tried to nonchalantly glance at the clock on the dashboard to get an idea of how much more time she would be trapped in the car, but she noticed Rainier watching her and so she reached over and flipped on the radio. An old country song by George Jones filled the space between them, telling of broken hearts and destroyed lives. It was a bit ironic—the two of them were far too much like the song, she being the keeper of a broken heart, and his life destroyed.
She slipped Rainier a smile, trying to hide her thoughts before he could read them upon her face. Maybe she had it all wrong, or at least backward—her life had been destroyed in just a matter of minutes, as well.
Maybe the song was really just about her.
The country singer’s twang grated on her nerves and she flicked off the radio.
“Do I need to go back over the rules and conditions of your parole, or do you think you understand them?” Laura asked, pushing a wayward strand of hair back into the tight bun on her head.
Rainier answered with a chuckle and lifted the manila envelope for her to see. “Between this ream of paper, and instructions you’ve been going over for the last hour, I think I’ve got it.”
“I just want to make sure you fully understand that at any point we can revoke your parole, and you can be sent back to prison. Under no circumstances are you to violate any of the conditions I’ve given you.”
“All right, there will be no drinking in excess, no hanging out where drugs are distributed or taken. I shall not leave my geographic limits without written permission. I shall see you between the first and third of each month...” He looked over at her and gave her a sexy half smile, and she tried to diffuse her nervousness by shifting in her seat. “I will not violate any law,” he continued. “I won’t associate with people who have criminal records, will not possess firearms or any dangerous weapons, and...well, we know the rest.”
“Just so long as you do.” She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel.
It was going to be a long year, seeing him every month, if this was the way he made her feel simply by sitting next to her and smiling.
Long ago, she had sworn off relationships, as the only thing they had ever brought her was heartache, thirty pounds that had now collected solidly around her thighs and ass, and what she’d learned later was a raging case of crabs. Not that she ever told anyone she’d had crabs, but she could think of no better reason to call an unwavering hiatus on all things men than a hundred little bugs making her itch like a madwoman. Looking back, she realized they weren’t half as annoying as the man who’d given them to her.
“Laura—”
“Call me Ms. Blade,” she said, interrupting.
“Sorry. Ms. Blade.” He said her name as if it were as sharp as the object it implied. “I was just gonna ask how you got into the parole officer game.”
The last thing she needed was to exchange pleasantries with her assigned parolee. It would send the wrong message if Rainier thought for one minute they were anything that resembled friends. He had been assigned to her by the state, and her one job was to make sure he didn’t find himself back in trouble. It was her job to save him from himself, even if that meant drawing a hard line.
“Being a parole officer isn’t a game, Mr. Fitzgerald.” She could feel her butt clench. “I take my job very, very seriously.”
“Very very,” he teased. “I guess you do. I haven’t heard anybody say that since high school.”
Just like in high school, she wanted to reach over and punch him in his arm for his cheeky manner. Under a different set of circumstances, she could’ve lightened up and they could’ve been friends. But he was the one who had chosen to nearly kill a man. Now he would have to deal with the consequences—not that missing out on her friendship was really a consequence that he needed to worry about.
“I’m surprised you didn’t get into more trouble in prison, with a mouth like that.”
He laughed, tilting his head back with mirth. “If you think I have a mouth, you clearly haven’t been a parole officer very long. What are you—like, thirty-two?”
Oh, they were so off on the wrong foot.
It was never okay for a man to guess a woman’s age, especially if he was guessing too high. If he had said twenty-four, things may have gone more in his favor, but it was too late. He had fallen from her grace.
Thankfully, they ascended the hill that led to the ranch, and the tin roof of the Dunrovin barn came into view, letting him off the hook about erroring at her age.
It had been only about a week since she’d come to the ranch for their annual holiday party, the Yule Night festival, and it felt strange coming back again so soon. Yet even with all the drama that surrounded the place, a sense of calm came over her. She could almost imagine what it would be like to live there, walking through the spring pastures with her feet splashing in the mud, or her fingers touching the heads of the summer grasses that they would cut and bale for hay, or feeling the nibble of the crisp fall air while they moved the animals from their summer pastures.
She sucked in a long, deep breath, hoping that some of the ranch’s clean air had somehow slipped into the car. She could smell the faint aroma of horses, hay and diesel from the tractors. It was a heady mix, beckoning memories of her childhood spent daydreaming about horses and ranch life while her father whiled away the hours at his law office.
“I bet you’re glad to be home,” she said.
He glanced out the window, and she could swear that his green eyes turned a shade darker as he looked at the ranch. It didn’t make sense how she could love this place so much and he could seem so disconnected.
“I’m glad to be out of prison,” he grumbled.
“That doesn’t mean that you’re glad to be here.”
“Oh, I’m glad to be home, but you gotta understand that I ain’t gonna be welcomed with open arms. I screwed everything up. My brothers were so pissed, by now they have to have convinced everyone that it would be best if I just hit the road and never came back.”
“I doubt your parents feel like that.”
“They didn’t come visit me. Not once when I was behind bars. They made it real clear they think I’m nothing but trouble.”
“If you feel like your return to the family is going to inhibit your success in staying out of trouble, perhaps I can help you get settled elsewhere.”
He grimaced as though she had just sentenced him to solitary confinement. “Nah, I ain’t gonna run away. I’m just going to have to face whatever is coming my way.”
She wanted to reach over and grip his fingers and give them a reassuring squeeze, but instead she gripped the steering wheel harder. “No matter what, I’ve got your back. I’m your ally.”
“Well, at least I got one,” he said, the sexy smile returning.
She pulled to a stop, parking the car in the gravel lot, which was covered in patchy snow. The ranch carried the warmth and feeling of Christmas, with its strings of lights, poinsettias and an abundance of wreathes that hung from every post. It looked like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting, including the older woman who was standing on the porch of the main office looking out at them.
She recognized Ms. Eloise Fitzgerald from passing and the occasional hello, and as they unbuckled, Eloise smiled and waved. Yet it was the congenial, halfhearted wave of a near stranger and a far cry from what Laura would have expected a mother to give her son.
Rainier’s features darkened as he looked at his mother, having noticed her chilly reception himself.
“Don’t worry, she probably just doesn’t see you or something,” Laura said, trying to soften the blow for him.
She stepped out of the car, Rainier following suit. Eloise shaded her eyes, casting shadows over her face as she looked toward them. Her mouth opened as she must have finally recognized Rainier when he stepped around the front of the car and made his way toward the office.
She smiled and her curved back straightened as she stood a bit taller. “Rainier, sunshine, is that really you?” Eloise asked, excitement fluttering through her words. “I can’t believe it!” She rushed forward and threw her arms around her son’s neck. “Your father and I didn’t think you’d be here until tomorrow. Wyatt said...” Her words where muffled against Rainier’s chest as she tightened her arms around him.
The reunion made a lump form in Laura’s throat. Thank goodness it wasn’t the chilly reception that he had expected and she thought had come to fruition.
In the history of hugs, this one may have been the longest, as tears collected in the corners of Eloise’s eyes and slipped down her cheeks. “I’m so glad you’re home,” she repeated over and over.
Rainier gave his mother a kiss on the top of her head and finally she stepped back, releasing him from her grateful hold. For the first time since seeing her son, she seemed to notice Laura.
“Laura, I can’t tell you how thankful I am in having you bring my boy back to us.” She reached over and gave her hand a warm squeeze. “You have to come in. The girls and I just made a batch of cookies and there’s fudge cooling on the counter.”
Fudge and cookies. Laura pulled at the waistband of her skirt. This time of year, the pounds always seemed to jump onto her thighs at the mere nearness of fudge and cookies. In fact, if she closed her eyes and thought about it, she could almost feel herself expanding.
“I’d love to, but first I need to make sure that all will be well with you and your family regarding your son’s parole.” She tugged on the hem of her skirt, lowering it. “Is Rainier going to be staying with you and working here on the ranch? Is he welcome?”
Eloise gave her a disbelieving look. “Are you kidding, dear? Everyone is welcome at the ranch. My son made mistakes, and he’s paid for them. I don’t want things for him to be any harder than they already are. I would do anything for him.”
Her admiration for Eloise grew. It wasn’t every day that a convicted felon was treated with such kindness, even by family members or loved ones.
Laura looked over at Rainier as Eloise took them both by the hand and led them toward the main house and the waiting smorgasbord of sweets. He sent her a brilliant smile, his white teeth sparkling in the winter sun. He was so handsome; it was easy to see how someone could forgive him for his mistakes and trust him with their heart.
Chapter Three (#u8b1c643f-43c6-51d6-a81a-0335a37c4e91)
The house was a flurry of motion. Gwen and Eloise were rushing around the kitchen, pulling together a meal reminiscent of the epicurean lifestyle of ancient Greece. Every countertop was filled to the edge with food. There was everything from cold cuts and cheese to spritz cookies and rosettes. His mouth watered. The food was a far cry from what had been ladled onto his tray in prison and the little packs of chips he bought at the commissary. Dang, it was good to be home.
His mother handed him a plate full of food, and another to Laura, as though she was just one of the gang and not someone with the ability to put him back in prison. He couldn’t decide whether it was a part of his mother’s plan that she overwhelm Laura with kindness in hopes it would keep him out of trouble, or if it was just his mother’s way. Regardless, he loved her for it.
His adoptive father, Merle, walked into the kitchen while thumbing through a stack of mail. In all the excitement his mother must have forgotten to tell him that Rainier was home. When he finally looked up from the letters in his hands, a wave of recognition and pure joy overtook his face.
“Son, what are you doing here? I thought you didn’t get out for another couple of days?” His father gave a questioning glance to his mother.
“Oh, dear, I’m sorry. I meant to come get you. I just wanted to make sure that Rainier and Laura were taken care of. I’m so sorry,” she said, throwing her hands over her mouth. “I can’t believe...”
“It’s okay, Mother,” Merle said, giving her a quick peck on the forehead before turning to Rainier. “How long have you been home?”
He shrugged. With all the activity and questions his mother had been throwing his way, he wasn’t sure if he’d been home five minutes or five hours. He wasn’t used to this kind of attention, as if the world revolved around him. He both despised and loved it, but it was almost too much.
Even though he’d said nothing, his father seemed to understand and gave an acknowledging tip of his head.
“We haven’t touched your room, Rainier. It’s waiting for you if you’re tired. This week we can go get you some new clothes,” his mother said, coming over and pinching the pink Hawaiian shirt between her fingers and pulling it as if she wished she could throw it away then and there. “And we can get you anything else you need to get on your feet, as well. Waylon, Christina and Winnie will be coming home later this week.” She grinned with excitement. “It’s just going to be so wonderful to have the entire family here to spend Christmas. And Laura, you’ll have to come, too.”
Laura gaped as she glanced from his mother to him, almost as though she was checking him to see what exactly her reaction should be to that unusual invitation. “I...er...”
“You are more than welcome, Laura,” his father said, jumping in. “You don’t have to answer us right away. I’m sure you’ve got your own family plans.”
She looked a bit relieved, and it made Rainier’s chest tighten as some part of him wished she had agreed to spend more time with him and his family. He took a deep breath as he tried to make sense of his body’s reaction. He barely knew this woman, and their conversation had been limited mostly to business. Yet he couldn’t deny there was something, a spark, between them. It was so strong he could have sworn he felt it in his fingertips.
Maybe it was just that she was the only person who had any real understanding of what his life had been like behind bars. She was his ally, and seemed to be the only one who could understand why he had changed.
“I... Y-you...” he stammered, trying to say something that would be as effectual as his father, but no words came.
Merle smiled. “Rainier and I are gonna head outside. I need to get to work on that broken spigot before the pump burns out.” His father handed him a coat, and he shrugged it on.
He couldn’t have been more relieved and thankful for his father’s interference not just with the jacket, but with helping him to get out of the swirl of activity that made him feel so out of place.
Laura’s face relaxed as she glanced over to him and gave an approving nod.
“If he’s going to be home, you know we’re gonna be putting him to work,” the older man continued.
She gave a light laugh. “That’s exactly what I was hoping for, Mr. Fitzgerald. If you don’t mind, while you all are working, I’ll take a quick look around, a brief home check.”
“That’s fine, but please call me Merle.” His father frowned at the formal moniker.
“Thank you, Merle,” Laura said.
“That’s better,” his father said. “Only Mother calls me Mr. Fitzgerald, and she only does that when I’m in deep trouble.” He turned to Rainier. “Let’s get going. We’re burning daylight.”
He followed his dad outside, and the moment the door opened and he breathed in the cold winter air, Rainier was thankful to be out of the kitchen. He loved his mother and the rest of his extended family, but he needed a minute just to be with himself in the quiet of life—an existence that wasn’t framed by steel bars.
His father led him out to the tractor and, handing him the keys, motioned for him to take a seat. “Sometimes the best thing we can do when our world is a mess is bury ourselves in work in order to clear our minds. There are no prisons worse than the ones we impose upon ourselves.”
The man was right. No matter how bad the nights had been when he’d been inside, the worst of them all had come when Rainier had thought about what he’d cost his family. There were so many things he wanted to say, but one in particular came to the front of his mind. “Thanks for everything, Dad.”
It didn’t seem like nearly enough, but emotions and expressing them had never been his strong suit. It was just so much easier to bottle everything up—although that was exactly the kind of attitude that had gotten him into trouble in the first place.
“Which spigot needs tending?” he asked, afraid of things taking another emotional turn. He’d had more than he could handle for one day.
His father’s stoicism thankfully returned, his face taking on the smooth and patient coolness that Rainier had always loved about the man. Since he’d left, however, his father’s face had seemed to age. In fact, he noticed a new darkness in his eyes and it made a deep sadness move through him. Undoubtedly, he had played a role in those changes, and there was no going back or making things right. There was only moving forward.
“It’s the one in the pasture. If you want to start digging, I’ll grab the piping,” Merle father said.
His father tracked through the snow toward the back of the house. Climbing up onto the tractor, Rainier could see a dark patch of grass and soot where the toolshed had once stood.
The tractor chugged to life and he moved the old beast toward the well as he thought about all the things his family had gone through when he’d been away, and what all else could have happened that his mother hadn’t told him.
The earth was hard with the freeze as he set to digging up the piping around the frost-free spigot his family used for watering the animals throughout the year. The tractor’s bucket broke through the top of the dirt, and as he dug deeper, the frozen soil turned into a muddy mess of gravel and clay as the water from the well spilled from the leaking pipes and saturated the ground. Water poured from the sides of the bucket as he moved the earth, piling it to one side.
It felt good to be working again, to be contributing to his family and the ranch. If he could work here for the rest of his life, he would die a happy man—he didn’t want a job like Laura’s, some nine to five.
He scraped out another bucketful of dirt from the hole. As he emptied it onto the pile, something white protruded from the sticky, brown earth. The object looked like a long stick, but its end was round and knobby.
An uneasiness rose up from his belly as he shut off the tractor, the bucket lowered midway. He stepped down from the machine and made his way across the sticky mud.
As he grew near, the thing lurched slightly, settling with the dirt around it. Based on the grooves and speckles on the surface, it was definitely a bone. He swallowed back the nerves that had tightened his throat as he reminded himself that, even though it was a bone, it was probably nothing—just some animal remains or detritus of days gone by.
He picked up the bone, scraping away the mud as he turned it in his hands. It was stained brown from the tannins in the dirt, the long shaft darker than the round ball of the joint. He wasn’t absolutely sure, but it looked terrifyingly similar to a human femur. He laid the bone down near the base of the hill.
Turning back to the pile of dirt, he looked through it, hoping not to see another piece of bone. He scratched at the cold earth, the dirt and gravel tearing at his fingertips as he frantically searched for anything that could help him make sense of what he had found. His wet fingers grew icy as he worked away, then stopped abruptly when he touched something hard and even colder. His hand closed around something L-shaped and, as he pulled it from the mud, he gave a small, muffled cry. In his grip was a gun.
There was the clang of metal on metal as pipes hit the ground and bounced behind him. He turned to see his father and Laura looking at him. Merle gasped in shock.
Rainier dropped the muddy weapon, letting it fall to his feet as he looked at Laura’s pale face.
“What are you doing with a gun, Rainier?” she asked, disgust and horror filling her voice as she stared at it, and at the bone lying beside it. “You—you haven’t been out of prison for five hours and yet here you are, back to your old ways.”
“I swear...it’s not what you think,” he argued, raising his dirty hands, palms up. “It... I didn’t know it was a gun when I picked it up.”
She shook her head. “You can take it up with the judge. In the meantime, you can kiss your parole goodbye.”
Chapter Four (#u8b1c643f-43c6-51d6-a81a-0335a37c4e91)
He couldn’t go back to prison. For a moment, Rainier considered running, just grabbing one of the old ranch trucks and hitting the highway. Thanks to the many letters his mother had sent him when he’d been away, he’d learned all about the murder at the hands of his former sister-in-law Alli and her escape from persecution. It seemed that law enforcement in Montana was usually two steps behind. Then again, thanks to his own experiences, he wasn’t sure he could rely on that to be completely true, or he would have never found his ass in prison.
“Laura—”
“Ms. Blade,” Laura interrupted, as she typed something into her phone.
“My apologies, Ms. Blade,” he said, careful to use the same sharp tone. “It’s just that I don’t... I can’t go back to prison. That wasn’t my gun. Hell, I didn’t even know it was a gun until it was in my hand. You have to believe me, I never want to waste my time behind bars again.”
She stared at him for a long moment, and from the set of her jaw and the look in her eyes, he could tell she was struggling to believe him. He had no idea what else to tell her. No doubt, as a parole officer, she would have learned by now that very few people in this world told the truth—and even fewer who were ex-cons.
He’d long ago given up the idealistic notion that anyone would take anything he had to say at face value ever again. The moment the judge’s gavel hit the block and he’d been delivered the sentence, Rainier had known he’d forever wear a scarlet letter for his crimes. Part of that sentence would be always being thought of as less than and dishonorable—no matter how justified he felt in committing the crime.
“Can’t we just look past this, Ms. Blade?” asked his father. Merle held his hands together almost as if he was silently praying that Laura would honor his request.
Rainier could’ve told him a long time ago that that kind of thing had a way of blowing back on a guy.
“Mr. Fitzgerald, I know your family’s been through a lot in the last month, but that doesn’t mean I can just ignore what’s going on here.” Laura frowned. “I made it very clear to your son that there were certain conditions associated with his parole—conditions he absolutely could not violate. And yet here we are. I can only imagine the kind of trouble he would find himself in if I wasn’t here.”
“I can assure you that my son has always been a good man.”
“Let me guess—he’s just misunderstood?” Her lips puckered as she spat the words out like watermelon seeds.
“I’m not going to make any excuses for my son’s behavior, but you have to know that he wouldn’t intentionally find himself in trouble. Especially not like this.”
Her gaze swung to Rainier and he nodded, hoping that she would listen to both of them.
“Ms. Blade, it’s not like I’m asking for a second chance. I’m just asking for any chance at all.” Rainier hated the note of pleading in his voice. He’d never been one to beg, but he’d never been given his freedom and then had it rescinded on the same day.
“The police are on their way.” Laura pushed her phone into her back pocket. “I won’t tell them about the gun in your hand and the remains at your feet, but you have to promise me that this was just a case of you being at the wrong place at the wrong time and nothing else.”
A sense of relief washed over him, but faded away again as the piercing sound of sirens echoed in the distance. He looked in that direction, but in the bright afternoon light couldn’t make out their source. Hopefully, his brother wasn’t on duty. The last person he needed to see right now was Wyatt.
“Do you promise, Rainier?” Laura pressed.
“Of course,” he said, trying to sound earnest.
“And you won’t find yourself in any more trouble?” she continued.
“You’re welcome to stick around and be my wingman as long as you like, Ms. Blade,” Rainier said, giving her a cheeky smile he hoped would ease some of the tension between them.
The parole officer looked away, making him wonder if his smile had worked, after all.
“Son, it may not be a bad idea for you to go inside and get out of the spotlight,” his father said, motioning toward the house.
On the drive back to the ranch, Rainier had told Laura he wasn’t afraid and that he wouldn’t run away from whatever life would bring him. But now, facing the possibility of seeing his brother after all this time, the urge was strong to tuck tail and run on back to the house. Heck, he could even pretend that when his brother questioned him about the remains and the gun that it was the first he was hearing about the findings. Wyatt would probably think nothing of it, and he certainly wouldn’t jump to conclusions like he would if he arrived and Rainier was standing by disarticulated remains.
His brother had always been like that with him—always thinking the worst. Rainier couldn’t blame him for the trouble he himself got into; he’d always been a little bit of a rebel and the family’s black sheep. But his brother’s condescending attitude certainly didn’t help. It was like every time he screwed up, Wyatt was there to let him know he had seen it coming.
Once, when they had been young boys, their parents had sent them out to collect eggs from the henhouse. Gathering eggs soon turned into Rainier picking up rocks and pitching them to see who could throw the farthest. Colter and Waylon had joined right in, using different size rocks and different throwing techniques until they had found the one that suited them best. But not Wyatt. Wyatt had stood to the side and kept warning them about how much trouble they were going to get into if their parents found them, or if something went wrong.
Of course, the other three didn’t listen, and it wasn’t five minutes before Rainier pitched the perfect pebble straight into the back window of their father’s old Jeep. If he closed his eyes, he was sure he could still hear the crackling sound of the splintering glass, almost like someone stepping on the thin crust of ice on a lake.
Breaking that window had been his first lesson in keeping Wyatt out of his affairs and away from anything fun, as well as how much work it took to raise two hundred dollars to pay for a new window. His father had been understandably angry at the time, but just like now, he’d seemed to understand that sometimes bad things happened. A person could go about living his life between the lines, or as Merle put it, “living between the mustard and the mayonnaise,” but even then couldn’t avoid trouble. Or maybe Rainier wasn’t really the kind who avoided it; maybe he was just as bad and destructive as people expected him to be.
“Rainier, are you listening?” asked Laura.
He hadn’t heard a single thing she said.
“Sorry, what did you say?” he asked, blinking away images of him and his brothers playing around the ranch and causing trouble when they were younger. What he would give to go back to those days, when they’d all still got along and had truly lived for each other.
“Why don’t I walk with you inside—you know, be your wingman?” she repeated, holding out her hand as if he was some kind of wayward toddler.
He was unsure if he should be excited or offended by the way she was treating him, but he had to admit the look she was giving him was far more comforting than the one from a few minutes before, when she had found him holding the gun.
He slipped his hand into hers, and she jerked, almost as if she hadn’t expected him to take her up on her offer. She let go again at once, but not before his father gave him a look of surprise. Rainier was sure his own expression mirrored his dad’s.
This woman continually surprised him. He’d heard so many things about parole officers when he’d been behind bars. From the stories that got filtered down to him, most sounded like real hard asses, but not Laura. Sure, she had a hard edge to her and she was a no-nonsense kind of lady, but there was something equally soft, almost maternal about her. That softness made him wonder if she had a child.
He wasn’t sure if he should ask, especially now that she had agreed to take his side and cover up his role in discovering the remains. He didn’t want to compromise her emotionally any more than necessary. More than that, from the second they had met she had made it clear to him that there was going to be nothing more than professional civility between them.
She walked ahead of him, leading the way back to the house as the sound of the sirens grew louder. As they approached the door, his mother and his brother Wyatt’s fiancée, Gwen, stepped outside.
Rainier glanced down at his mud-covered coat as he tried to wipe the dirt from his hands.
“What’s going on?” his mother asked, peering out in the distance toward the approaching police cars.
Laura smiled, but the action was forced and tight. “No worries, I just jumped the gun—” Her mouth gaped open for a moment as she must have realized what she had said.
“We just found something a little odd, and Ms. Blade thought it best if we got a crew out here to investigate it,” Rainier interjected.
“Investigate what?” Gwen asked. “And where’s your father?”
Rainier turned and looked toward the barn. “He was going to greet the deputies when they arrived. You don’t think it’s gonna be Wyatt, do you?”
Gwen frowned. “He wouldn’t come roaring out here with the sirens on. He’s been coming out here enough lately that he would know not to create any kind of scene for the neighbors. It’s gotta be somebody else,” she said, motioning toward the SUV hurtling their way. As it drew nearer, Rainier could see there was a patrol unit without its lights on following in its wake.
The SUV pulled to a sudden stop, skidding on the ice in the parking lot. A woman, her dark hair pulled into a tight ponytail, jumped out of the car and made her way over to them, with Merle hurrying after her.
“There’s Wyatt,” Gwen said, ignoring the woman and motioning toward the vehicle just pulling into the lot.
“Who’s she?” Rainier whispered.
“New recruit. Her name’s Penny Marshall.” Gwen frowned, and the look on her face held a trace of jealousy, but he wasn’t sure why his soon-to-be sister-in-law would have anything to worry about. Wyatt, above all things, was a good man.
His brother stepped out of the second car. “Penny, wait up. Jeez, woman, you seriously need to slow down. This is my family.”
The patrolwoman turned around. “Hey, if you want to drive like some old fart, that’s on you. For all you knew, someone’s life could have been in danger out here, and you were driving like it wasn’t some kind of emergency.”
“If someone’s life was in danger, Penny, we would have been told about it. That’s what dispatch is for. I’ve told you before, there’s no good reason to put our lives at risk when a situation doesn’t dictate it.”
“Okay, Deputy Fitzgerald,” the woman said, but from the tone of her voice Rainier could tell that she was just playing along and fully intended to keep living her way with or without Wyatt’s approval.
Rainier liked Penny already. From the looks of her, she was in her early twenties, and from the sound of his brother’s exasperated voice, straight out of the academy.
Wyatt’s lips puckered and his face darkened as he looked up and noticed him standing there. “So you made it back to the ranch?” He slammed his car door with a little too much force, clearly pissed off. “Is your homecoming the reason for our appearance?”
Rainier swallowed back the growl that percolated up from his core. He had known this was going to be the closest thing to a welcome he was going to get from his brother, but his expectations paled in comparison to the reality.
Or maybe it wasn’t the lack of welcome he was upset with, but rather the reality that his brother had been correct in his assessment—he was in fact the reason they had been called. But Rainier would never give Wyatt the satisfaction of once again being right in assuming the worst about him.
“It’s good to see you, too, brother,” he said, trying to temper his disappointment before it had the chance to pepper his voice.
“Wyatt, Penny,” Laura said, giving each an acknowledging wave. “Thank you so much for coming on such short notice. There was no reason for you to rush. In fact, if you have somewhere else to be, you are welcome to come back later.”
From the stress in her voice, even Laura had to have known how futile and ridiculous she sounded. If there was somewhere else for the deputies of Mystery to be, they would have been there, but it wasn’t a town that was usually fraught with crime.
“Laura, you know if you’re calling we’re going to come running.” Wyatt chuckled as he came closer and gave Gwen a quick peck on the cheek. “Though I have to admit, I did drive a little quicker knowing that my fiancée would be here waiting for me.”
Gwen smiled, the jealousy disappearing from her features.
It was nice to see his brother in a relationship, but it was strange to see him act so smitten. Wyatt had always been the serious kind, and watching him loosen up in his presence made Rainier wonder if there was still hope for them to fix their relationship. Then again, Gwen and Wyatt loved each other, and he wasn’t sure he could say his brother loved him.
“The dispatcher reported that there was some kind of disturbance, something about a parole violation?” Penny asked, looking directly at Rainier.
“No, no. Everything’s all right,” Laura said with a bit too much indifference. “Actually, it had nothing to do with parole violation. Your dispatcher must’ve gotten it all wrong.”
“Wyatt,” Merle exclaimed as he came walking around the side of the barn. “What took you so long?”
Wyatt laughed. “We were worried you fell down or something. Didn’t want you getting hurt,” he teased.
Their father answered with a long laugh. “Nah, I just found something behind the barn Laura thought you and your friend would want to check out. It’s probably nothing, just some old animal bones. In fact, if you guys want to get going, I’m sure we can sweep this right under the rug.”
“Why does everyone want us to leave all of a sudden? We just got here,” Penny said. “Is this always the way you guys greet one another?”
Eloise’s cheeks reddened. “Oh, dear, Penny, don’t start thinking that. We’re nothing like that around here. We love our boys. We just understand how busy you all can get, being the pillars of this community and all.”
“Laying it on a little thick, Mom, aren’t you?” Wyatt asked, raising a brow. “Dad, why don’t you go ahead and show me those ‘old animal bones.’”
Merle glanced over at him, as if trying to decide exactly what to say or not say to Wyatt about their discovery. Rainier shook his head ever so slightly, reaffirming their decision to keep his role in the findings quiet. It wasn’t that he was being selfish, no. It was just clear that his brother had so much resentment toward him that if he caught a single whiff of his involvement, Rainier’s hope for a life surrounded by family again would be as good as over.
Chapter Five (#u8b1c643f-43c6-51d6-a81a-0335a37c4e91)
Laura wasn’t sure she really believed that Rainier was as innocent as he and his father proclaimed him, but if she sent him back to prison, it would be an all-time record for the shortest turnaround. In her department, her friend Jim held the current record of three days before his parolee was sent back, after he’d been found in possession of a large amount of heroin. It was a running joke that the parolee had turned back to drugs after spending a day with Jim.
She could just imagine what the guys around the office would say if they learned that after only a matter of hours she’d found her parolee elbows deep in mud, holding a weapon with human remains at his feet. And that was nothing compared to what her father, the high-powered attorney Dennis Blade Esq., would say if he found out Rainier and the Fitzgerald clan were once again in trouble. He’d made it clear to her that he had nothing good to say about the Fitzgeralds.
She couldn’t understand her dad’s dislike of them. Though things were tense between Wyatt and Rainier, she could still feel a resounding warmth. And the fact that Merle would go to such lengths to help his son keep out of more trouble spoke volumes about his character.
Laura’s father hadn’t told her why he held such animosity toward the Fitzgeralds, only that they weren’t to be trusted.
Then again, she’d never been very good at following her dad’s advice.
Hopefully, this time it wouldn’t come back to bite her, but the knot in her gut told her there was a very good chance it could.
Wyatt and Penny disappeared behind the barn, following Merle. Maybe that was what the knot was all about—what they were about to find. No doubt the place would be filled with their investigation and forensics team, and the coroner would soon arrive. Then the questions would start. She’d have to keep her story straight, and she’d never been one for lying.
“Laura, how about you and I go ahead and step inside.” Mrs. Fitzgerald motioned for her to follow her into the house. “Unless you need to get running.”
The word running echoed in the air, almost as though someone had struck a bell. No matter how badly she wanted to leave the ranch and resume her normal life, she couldn’t go anywhere. They would have questions for her about her involvement, and if she left, she would only fall under further scrutiny.
“I could go for a cup of coffee,” Laura agreed.
“So could I,” Rainier said, but not before darting one more glance after his brother.
They made their way back inside. Though it hadn’t been that long since Laura had been in the kitchen, with everything that had happened in the last hour, it felt as if days had passed. As she made her way through the living room, the sparkle of silver bows atop colorful presents under the Christmas tree caught her eye. There were piles of wrapped gifts—red, green, blue and even a stack of pink ones adorned with Disney princesses.
“Do you have grandchildren, Mrs. Fitzgerald?” she asked, gazing toward the princesses in her best attempt to mask the elephant in the room—the coming investigation.
Eloise beamed. “Just one for now, a beautiful little girl named Winnie. She, Christina and Waylon should be home in a couple of days. He’s in the army, working as an MP, and they’ve been living at the base. I couldn’t be more proud of them.”
“I’m sure. That’s something to be quite proud of,” Laura said, but as she spoke she noticed the way Rainier’s entire body seemed to tense as they mentioned familial pride and accolades.
“They’re going to get married soon.” Mrs. Fitzgerald reached over and gave Gwen’s hand a quick squeeze. “Just like my Gwen and Wyatt, and Whitney and Colter. I was hoping that we could have one big wedding over the holidays—you know, put everything bad behind us and use it to start the New Year off with something to really celebrate. Whitney and Colter have been in Spokane, getting everything they think they’re going to need. She sent me a picture of her dress the other day. It’s just beautiful.”
So all the brothers were engaged, except Rainier. Laura had an idea how he must be feeling. Both her sisters were spoken for, but not her. Her mother had made talking about her failing love life into one of her favorite pastimes. And she loved nothing more than giving Laura regular style hints. Last week’s had been that she should dye her hair, as she was starting to, as her mother put it, “get a little less shiny...you know, that happens as we ladies age.”
Laura had no idea how dying her hair would make it shinier, but she doubted her mom had meant it as anything other than another jab at her aging-spinster lifestyle. She was the same with her sister—which was part of the reason the three of them rarely had anything to do with one another. Recalling her mother’s words nearly made her groan aloud, but she checked herself. Whether her mother knew it or not, Laura had no intention of living a life completely devoid of love from the opposite sex. She just had no desire to have a relationship her family knew anything about. She hadn’t forgotten how poorly it had gone the last time she’d brought a man around.
The other ladies made their way into the kitchen, while Rainier walked over to the Christmas tree and ran his fingers reverently over one of the boughs, rolling the needles between his fingertips. His simple action made Laura smile.
He had missed so much in the last couple years. The closest he had probably been to a Christmas tree had been seeing them in pictures in the magazines that had been passed around his unit.
“Did you miss this?” she asked, gesturing around the room at the holiday trappings.
She suddenly realized how alone the two of them were, and it made her feel something almost like attraction toward him. She tried to stuff the feeling away. There could be none of that nonsense.
Maybe she’d identified her feelings incorrectly. Maybe it was just that she pitied him. If that was the case, she couldn’t fall into the trap of letting her empathy for him morph into something it shouldn’t be.
“You know, growing up, I used to love Christmas,” Rainier said. “We always had a tree like this one—spruce. Those and ponderosa pine grow all over in this area. It was such a big deal to go pick one out. We’d spend all day in the woods, Dad pointing out what he thought was the perfect tree and my mother inevitably shooting each and every one of them down. It was like a game between the two of them, and it would only come to an end when the daylight faded and they were forced to compromise.”
That was a far cry from her family’s out-of-the-box trees that they had thrown together each year in just a matter of minutes. One year they had even plastic-wrapped the tree with the ornaments still on, so they wouldn’t have to bother decorating it again the next year.
“We would have hot chocolate and s’mores that my mother would warm up on the heater on the dashboard,” Rainier continued, as he picked up a red ornament that had fallen to the floor and rehung it on a branch.
“That sounds really special,” Laura said, not quite sure if she should interrupt his reminiscing.
He nodded, but she could tell from the distant look on his face that his mind was in the past.
“It really was.” He turned to face her, and she could see a glistening in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. “I just can’t believe that I’m at risk of losing them all again.”
Oh, so that was what this was—some veiled attempt to pull at her heartstrings in order to make sure she wasn’t tempted to change her mind about his fate. She wouldn’t let him play that game, either.
“You have it all wrong if you think you can make me your mark,” she said, taking two steps back from him.
“Huh? What are you talking about?” he asked.
“You can’t try and manipulate me to get what you want. I know all about your kind.”
“My kind?” He spat the words. “You mean convict, or do you mean orphans?”
He was trying to pick a fight. It was a good diversionary tactic from the real issue at hand, but she wasn’t going to let him pull that one over on her, either.
“I’m just saying that you’re not the first ex-con to think he’s smarter than me.”
Or hardly the first man who thought himself smarter than me, either, but she bit her tongue before she let the words slip from her. She didn’t want to come off like some scorned woman. She wasn’t anything of the sort, but Rainier needed to remember his place—and his place, right now, was under her thumb.
“If I was smart, the last place I’d be right now is here.” He stared at her.
“If push came to shove, if a deputy found out I’d lied for you, I would likely be charged with accessory after the fact,” she whispered, just loudly enough for him, but not the women in the kitchen, to hear. “That would mean we would both be headed to prison. Have you thought about that?”
“I know what you did back there was a gamble,” he said, tipping his chin toward the barn outside. “Your sacrifice doesn’t go unnoticed. You can trust me when I tell you that I had nothing to do with that body.”
He moved toward her, and she carefully stepped back until her legs pressed against Mrs. Fitzgerald’s ’80s model velveteen sofa. The little hairs of the couch upholstery jabbed into the back of her calves, but it was nowhere near as uncomfortable as Rainier was making her when he looked at her like he was now...a look of compassion, respect and maybe something more.
“You have to know that I would never compromise you like that,” he added. “Though I’ve only known you...what? A couple of hours? I believe you’re a good person. You’re not the kind of woman who would risk everything if she didn’t think a person was telling the truth.”
The little zing she had felt for him returned, making her wonder if she would ever be able to control her body’s responses whenever Rainier said something that made her want to smile.
He moved so close that the only way she could get away from him was by sitting on the sofa, so she plopped down in a most unladylike fashion—complete with a little oomph as the air rushed from her lungs.
“I’ve been wrong before, Rainier,” Laura said, gripping her hands in her lap so as to not reach out and touch him.
Thankfully, he stopped his advance and glanced back at the tree. “We all make mistakes, Laura. No one more than me.”
“So you agree that what you did to your father was wrong?”
“It wasn’t wrong to do what I did. My biological mother and father may have been the worst parents on the planet. I don’t even know how I made it out of there alive.” He sighed. “How much do you know about my real parents?”
She had done her research on Rainier Fitzgerald, but it seemed that all his records had started when he’d been about sixteen and had gotten his first speeding ticket. His file had been dotted with a few misdemeanors, just the odd fine here and there that often came with a rambunctious teenager; that was, until the assault on his biological father in some low-end beer joint on the south end of town.
“Not much,” she said, shaking her head.
“That night in the bar, when the assault happened, it had been a long time coming.” Rainier turned away from her and went back to studying the tree. “My birth father was an evil man. He did things that should have sent him to prison and kept him there until his dying day, but instead, he got off scot-free... And in the end, I was the one sent away. Life has a wicked sense of humor.”
She wanted to ask what exactly his father had done, but before she could, there was a knock on the door.
Mrs. Fitzgerald came shuffling out of the kitchen, a white apron tied around her waist and what looked to be fresh flour on her hands. She smiled at them as more knocking reverberated through the room.
“Be right with you,” she called, wiping her hands on her apron. “I don’t know why they bother knocking. If the police are done, I would hope that Wyatt would know to just come right on in,” she said, more to herself than to them.
She opened the door and her hands dropped to her sides and she stumbled backward. “What are you doing here, William?”
There, standing in the doorway, was a sour-faced man in a business suit. As he looked inside, he smiled, and the action was as crisp and polished as the rest of his exterior.
“I thought it was high time that I stopped by the ranch and said hello,” William Poe said. He nodded toward Laura. “How goes it, Ms. Blade? Your father mentioned that you were going to be poking your head in at the ranch from time to time, thanks to the family jailbird. You know, if it were up to me there would be more than one Fitzgerald prison bound.”
The man looked as out of place at Dunrovin as a fox in a henhouse, and just as predatory.
“What are you really doing here, William?” she asked, getting up from the couch. As she did so she made sure to pull her skirt just a bit lower on her knees. The man had a reputation, and she didn’t want him leering at her.
He opened his jacket and withdrew a letter. On the front, in big bold red letters, were the words Final Notice.
“Something was incorrectly sent to my house. I think it belongs to you all.” He flipped the letter toward Mrs. Fitzgerald, but she didn’t bother to try and catch it, and it fell to the floor at her feet.
“Why would you be getting our mail, Mr. Poe?” Eloise asked, her voice taking on a dangerous edge that Laura wouldn’t have imagined the woman capable of unless she had heard it for herself.
“Well, Mrs. Fitzgerald, I would hardly know,” William said, a sleazy smile spreading over his face. “But from that note on the front, I thought it better make its way into your hands.” He nudged the envelope with his shoe, leaving tread marks on the paper. “I’d hate to stand in the way of justice being served. You know me. I’ve always tried to be helpful.”
“We know you to be a thorn in our side,” Mrs. Fitzgerald retorted.
Rainier walked over to the man. “Why don’t you just get the hell out of here?” he said, pushing him back out the door.
“How dare you touch me,” William said, his tone filled with hatred.
“What was that old commercial... Reach out and touch someone?” Rainier asked with a wicked laugh. “You’re lucky all I did was touch you. The next time you set foot on this ranch, you are going to wish that all I did was touch you.”
“You are going to wish that you never laid your hands on me.” William readjusted his suit jacket in what Laura assumed was his best attempt to save his ego. “I’d threaten to sue, but based on what you’re about to learn, we both know that you and your family wouldn’t have the money to pay me if I won, anyway.” He laughed, the room filling with the foul sound.
William turned toward Laura. “You know, if you were like your father, you would save yourself some time and just arrest Rainier now.”
Her stomach clenched. Had he seen something? Had he witnessed her lying for Rainier?
“There’s no way that man is going to stay out of trouble. In fact, I bet that’s why the police are outside, isn’t it? Are they just waiting to arrest him?” William continued on, seemingly unaware of the questions raging through her. “It wouldn’t surprise me. This family is nothing but trash.”
“You know what, William? I think Rainier was right,” Laura said, as she walked over to the doorway. “You need to get gone and stay gone.” She slammed the door in the man’s face.
As she did, she knew it would come back to haunt her. But right now she didn’t need anyone to tell her who or what the Fitzgeralds were. To her, they were just another family that needed her help.
Chapter Six (#u8b1c643f-43c6-51d6-a81a-0335a37c4e91)
The affection Rainier felt for Laura had grown tenfold in a matter of seconds. The last thing he had expected was for her to stand up to William Poe, his family’s arch nemesis.
He watched as she leaned over and picked up the envelope from the floor, her skirt pulling tight as she moved, making him want her just that much more.
He forced himself to look away. His family didn’t need any more drama right now. Since he’d gotten home today they’d found a body, he’d nearly been sent to prison and now William. Rainier hated to imagine what was coming just around the corner. Though, admittedly, if it somehow turned into having Laura in his bed, he wasn’t sure that he would mind so much...as long as no one found out. If his mother ever discovered that they were sleeping together, it would probably be the thing that would push her over the edge.
She walked back to Eloise and handed her the letter.
His mom stood still, staring at the door as if she was just waiting for it to open and William to come strutting back inside. The letter in her hands trembled.
“Mom,” he said gently. “Mom, why don’t you sit down?” He walked over to her and, taking her by the arm, led her to the couch and helped her settle there.
Her gaze never moved from the door.
“Do you mind if I take a look at the letter?” he asked.
She lifted her hand, motioning for him to take it, but said nothing.
He’d never seen her like this, at least not since the day he’d been sentenced. The memory of her sitting in the wooden stands of the courthouse made shivers run down his spine. He’d vowed he would never make her feel like that again, yet here they were...although this time he wasn’t entirely sure it was his fault. William’s appearance at his family’s home had to simply be a coincidence—at least he hoped so.
On the other hand, William had mentioned that he’d known Rainier was being released. Maybe he had planned his arrival to coincide in hopes that his homecoming could be ruined. Maybe it was William’s hope that they’d never be happy again. Little had he known that their day had already been ruined.
Now it was up to Rainier to fix what he could, and help them all to move past what they couldn’t.
He took the envelope from his mother. It was addressed to the ranch, care of his parents. When he tore it open, a letter fell out, with the same red lettering as on the envelope. It read Final Notice.
He pulled open the letter and saw it was from the county. As he read the words on the page, they seemed to blend together into a jumbled mess of lines and swirls as he tried to understand how “back taxes” and “working ranch taxation rates” had resulted in “Payment due on or before December 31. If not paid in full, a lien will be placed against the property for $150,489.”
The number rolled around on his tongue like a sour grape. His family couldn’t owe that much. There had to be some kind of mistake. Where would they get that kind of money?
According to his mother’s letters over the last few months, they had been barely scraping by, and it was only because of the Yule Night festival that they had managed to pay their bills for the month. Now this?
He looked to his mom, who was still staring at the door.
Was it possible that she had known what was in the letter? Had she known this day was coming, and that was why she had turned in on herself as she had?
He glanced back down at the page. There had to be a way to file for an extension—something, anything they could do to give themselves more time.
The taste in his mouth grew more putrid as he read the last line of the body of the letter:
“...an auction will occur if owners fail to remit all sums due by above date.”
“What does it say?” Gwen asked, leaning against the doorjamb that led from the living room from the kitchen.
Rainier wasn’t sure how he should handle things, but somehow telling Gwen the truth didn’t seem like the best option. In fact, telling anyone what he had just read seemed about as much fun as chewing off his own hand.
“Do you mind taking care of Mother, Gwen?” he asked, motioning toward the couch. “Mom, do you want a cup of tea or something?”
She nodded, finally pulling her gaze away from the door. “Earl Grey, please, Gwen.” She gave a half smile as she returned to the land of the living and false strength.
“I’ll give her a hand in there,” Laura said, taking Gwen by the arm as they made their way into the kitchen. “That way you two can have a moment.”
He gave her an acknowledging tip of the head and sat down beside his mother on the couch. He moved the letter so she could see it. “Did you know about this?”
She took it from his hands and, opening the reading glasses that hung from a cord around her neck, she slid them on and started to read.
Eventually she tried to speak, but the words came out in a smattering of syllables and garbled sounds, until she finally stopped struggling and simply shook her head.
“What about Dad?”
She shook her head again.
“Is this even real? How could you be getting a final notice of something due next week if you didn’t even know about this?”
“I’m sure it’s real,” she said, her voice filled with cold resignation. “If I’ve learned anything about William Poe, it’s that he’s capable of whatever he wishes. He has and will do everything in his power to try to tear the family and this place apart. He’s not going to stop until he succeeds.”
Rainier pointed to the letter. “But something like this had to be in the works for months. Why now? Why is he coming after us with this?”
“He’s never been a fan of ours, but I don’t know why. For the last few years we managed to keep him at bay, but once he became the county tax appraiser, we knew that our days might be numbered. Then with everything that’s happened...it’s only gotten worse. I told you about his brother, Daryl, and the fire in my letters, yes?”
He nodded.
William had to have some kind of vendetta—something that must have gone deeper than his wife dying at the hands of his crazed former sister-in-law, but Rainier could only guess what was behind it.
“I have to put a stop to this, to him.” He stood up and made his way to the door.
“No, Rainier, you’re not going to do or say anything that will stop him. William is like a dog with a bone right now. All we can do is hope...”
“And get a goddamned good lawyer, someone who isn’t afraid to take the bastard down,” he said.
“I’m sure we’ll try. But Rainier...you have to know that this may be the end of Dunrovin. We are all getting so tired of fighting. Maybe this is just the world’s way of letting us know that it’s time to move on. To get a new dream.”
“No, Mom, don’t talk like that. You just have some asshat who thinks he can do and say what he wants without repercussions.” He opened the door. William was standing beside his Mercedes, talking to Penny.
“Officer Marshall, I hope you are planning on escorting that man from our property,” Rainier said, charging toward the two as Wyatt and his father made their way back from behind the barn.
“Actually, Rainier, Mr. Poe was just asking me a few questions about my job.”
“Nothing about why you are here?”
Penny slid William a look that made it clear that was exactly what he had been pressing her about. And knowing about the kind of man William was, Rainier was sure that he was making a solid effort at making a pass on the twenty-something woman, as well.
“Something going on here?” Wyatt asked, coming closer and sensing the tension in the air.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/danica-winters/ms-demeanor/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.