Wolf river, p.8
Wolf River, page 8
“Long enough. Mick Wheeler’s drunk as a skunk and I just saw him beat a man whose only crime was accidentally bumping into him at a bar. I’m not letting you stay here with him—he’s dangerous. And as far as your boyfriend is concerned—”
“You can’t tell me what to do!” Devon’s voice rose defiantly in the darkness. “If you don’t leave me alone, I’ll run away. I swear I will! Hank and me, we’ll run so far no one will ever find us!”
“You tell her, Dev.”
They both spun toward the shack, where Hank Wheeler slouched in the doorway, glaring at Erinn.
He sauntered down the steps with the lithe, arrogant stride unique to a raw-boned sixteen-year-old male.
“Where’s Mick?” Devon hurried to him, searching his face in the moonlight for bruises, but Hank merely shrugged.
“Passed out. He threw the coffeepot against the wall, that’s all. Yelled something about some bastard knocking his drink over, then he tripped on the rug coming out of the can and fell flat on his face. He’s out cold on the floor. Is this her?” he asked Devon. “Your sister?”
“Used to be.” Sullen blue eyes flicked over Erinn. Erinn felt her heart crack.
It struck her then that the sweet little girl with the open heart and fairy eyes was really gone. Vanished. She’d disappeared forever, replaced by this lost, rebellious, angry young woman.
At that moment Erinn didn’t know with whom she was more furious—her father, Mick Wheeler, this cocky boy who had one arm draped around her sister’s shoulders—or herself.
“Devon’s only fifteen.” She gazed directly into Hank Wheeler’s distrustful eyes. “I’m her blood relative. Her legal guardian. She’s coming with me. Tonight—right now—”
“Yeah? Who says?” His lip curled insolently.
Erinn turned toward her sister. “Devon, give me twenty-four hours, that’s all I ask. Come back with me to the Watering Hole motel—”
“That fleabag? No way.”
Erinn managed to refrain from pointing out that the run-down Wheeler shack made the Watering Hole look like a resort. She clenched her jaw and searched for a way to sway her sister. Intimidation, threats, anger wouldn’t work. They’d both encountered enough of that back in their onetime home. If Devon was anything like she was herself, those tactics would only make her more determined to revolt.
She drew in a breath and tried again. “Devon, I was wrong for the way I abandoned you. I know that and I want to make it up to you. All I ask is a chance—”
“She don’t want nothin’ to do with you. And you can’t make her go,” Hank interrupted. “And we’ll be outta here like a couple of lightning bugs if you don’t leave right now…Tiffany!” he added with contempt.
The quieter tone he’d used with Devon was gone. He glared at Erinn like a wrathful young James Dean, his dark eyes gleaming with an angry derision that shocked her.
“She’s going to go to the sheriff, Hank, I know it.” Devon’s voice shook. “We have to get out of here. I mean it, right now. I won’t go back, I won’t go with her—”
“Devon,” Erinn said sharply, “running away won’t solve—”
“No? You did it, you ran away. You did just fine. So did I. And now I’m going to run again—you’re forcing me to—”
“No!” Erinn blocked her path as she started toward the Blazer, but Hank stepped forward, his jaw set.
“Look, lady, back off. Leave us alone or we’ll disappear—for good.”
Erinn stared from one to the other, dismay rushing through her. Hank was only a few inches taller than Devon, but he looked almost as formidable as his brother. And Devon’s mouth was mutinously set, her eyes as cold and distant as stars in the moonlight.
If Erinn didn’t know differently, she’d never believe this girl was the same angelic-looking toddler who’d crept into her room at night whenever she had a nightmare, who’d let Erinn rub her back and brush her hair and tell her stories until she drifted back to sleep.
In that instant, Erinn knew she’d failed. At least for tonight. Short of a knock-down, drag-out brawl with both of them, there was no way she’d get Devon into her car.
“All right, I’m leaving.” She had to summon up all of her self-control to speak in an even tone.
“I won’t argue with you anymore tonight. And I won’t go to the sheriff,” she added quickly, as suspicion pinched Devon’s face. “But you should get used to having me around,” she told the girl softly. “Because I’m not leaving Wolf River without you.”
“What—you’re going to, like, live at the Watering Hole motel for the rest of your life?” Devon jeered. “Fine. Just stay away from me and Hank.”
“I won’t leave you behind again, Devon. Think about that.” She held the girl’s gaze, her tone steady. “No matter what I have to do, I won’t leave Montana until you and I get to know each other again.”
For an instant, she thought she saw a glimmer of something in her sister’s eyes. Something wondering and soft—something like hope. But a moment later it was gone.
“You’re a couple of years too late.” The girl’s voice quavered. Spinning around, she bolted toward the shack. Hank fired one brooding glance at Erinn and followed her.
Erinn flinched as the door slammed shut, locking her out. Sealing them in.
The sound of it reverberated through her heart as she climbed back into the rental Jeep. The night sky seemed to press down upon her as she retraced her route along the crisscrossing country roads.
It was late by the time she slid wearily between the sheets and stared at the motel ceiling. But one thought was firm in her mind, despite her exhaustion.
She was going to prove to her sister that this time she meant what she said.
She wasn’t going anywhere until she broke through to Devon—even if it meant paying rent at the Watering Hole motel.
An hour later in the Redrock, Frank Wells waggled his arm in the smoke-filled air, signaling to LeeAnn Culpepper where he was seated as she sauntered in looking mighty fine. Tight-fitting scoop-neck top in canary yellow, big red beaded necklace, jeans tighter than the skin on a sausage.
Mighty fine. But even LeeAnn’s generous boobs and hot little butt didn’t distract him from the problem weighing on his mind. As she swayed toward him, smiling in her four-inch heels, he was still thinking about solutions to what was fast becoming the “Wheeler problem.”
“Sorry I’m late, honey.” She sank into the chair beside him and bumped it closer to his. “Angie,” she called to a waitress rushing by, “bring me a Bud, will ya?”
The waitress yelled that she would and kept going. Frank leaned over and slipped a hand behind her nape, pulled her toward him until they locked lips.
“I been bored out of my mind, baby doll. Till you got here.”
It was a lie, of course. But LeeAnn believed it, because she wanted to. It was like that with most people, Wells had learned. Most people were fools. They only saw, only heard what they wanted to see and hear. Whatever made ’em feel good in the moment.
He was different from most people though. Always had been. He looked at life clearly—not judging things by what was good or bad—but by what was good or bad for him.
A whole different ball of wax.
So he was able to easily chat with LeeAnn, savor another beer, even lead her out to the dance floor when her favorite Tim McGraw song came on, while all the while he was reaching the decision that it was getting to be time. Time to bail on the dumb-ass Wheeler boys. On this dumb-ass town.
Mick was pissing him off more every day. All this drinking, fighting—the son-of-a-bitch was out of control. Wells had warned him about drawing too much attention to himself, warned him what their partners had said, but did he listen?
Less and less.
And one of these days Mickey boy might get himself so plastered he blurted out something that could land him and Wells in the big house for ten or twenty.
Trouble was, if anyone found out Frank Wells used to be Fred Walters, wanted for the murders four years ago of twenty-year-old Heather Yates and her boyfriend, Lee Bennett, in Tucson, Wells could be looking at a death sentence.
He couldn’t afford for that to happen. Not when all he’d been doing was tying up a few loose ends.
Fortunately, Mick Wheeler didn’t have a clue about any of that—about Fred Walters, Heather Yates, Lee Bennett. He didn’t have a clue about nothing and no one in Wells’s past.
He only knew that Wells had the business contacts that were making both of them rich.
For now.
Wells was sorely tempted to close up shop in Wolf River after the very next delivery, to move the operation elsewhere. He always got nervous staying in one place too long, just as he didn’t trust sticking to any one identity for long.
If the slightest thing went wrong, and the law found reason to check his fingerprints with the feds’ database, he’d be nailed to the wall before he could spit.
And one sure way to get in trouble was by leaving behind loose ends.
Mick Wheeler, his damned kid brother, and that snuffly mouse he’d brought home out of the blue from California were three loose ends he couldn’t afford to leave behind.
Damn Wheeler, anyway. He never should have let those two kids set foot in the place, much less let them find out what was going on.
Wells circled his hand across LeeAnn’s buttocks as she rested her head on his shoulder and another country song wailed from the jukebox.
Aside from the small fortune he had tucked away during this operation over the past year, LeeAnn was the best thing in Wolf River right now.
A sweet little distraction made sweeter by the fact that every time Jase Fortune saw them together, it had to stick in his craw like a dead rat.
His former girlfriend was being screwed by the man he’d fired. And there was nothing mister big shot Jase Fortune could do about it.
“LeeAnn, you goin’ to the barn dance at the Hanging J?” he asked as the song ended.
“Thought I would, honey.”
“Then how about we go together? So long as I don’t have to bring you a damned corsage.” He chuckled as they returned to their seats and LeeAnn gave a bark of laughter.
“I’m way beyond corsages, Frank. Just bring me what you always do.” She took another hit of beer. “Some good lovin’ and the pleasure of your company.”
Was there a trace of sarcasm in her voice? Or was it sadness?
Wells felt a rush of anger. Sure, she was using him as a weapon against Jase Fortune just like he was using her, he knew that. But there had to be something more. He had to be making her forget about Fortune, at least when they were in the sack, right?
“What do you say we head over to your place right now and practice up on that good lovin’ part?”
Her smile came readily enough but it never touched her eyes. “Sure, Frank. Why not?”
But he saw the slight hesitation in her body language, and the way her gaze scanned the bar as they made their way to the door. She looked into every smoky corner, toward the dartboard, and studied the dance floor where couples were prancing around to a Dolly Parton tune.
She was looking for Jase Fortune. She wanted him to see them together.
“He ain’t here,” Wells muttered, grabbing her hand and jerking her toward the door, then outside into the parking lot. “You want to stay here and watch for him or go home with me and get it on?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Frank.” Her smile was at once sultry and cool. “I came here tonight for you. Only you. You don’t believe me?” She pulled her hand free, stopped in the lot, and shrugged. “Then I can just go home all by my lonesome.”
She started off walking down Main Street, hips working it, and Wells swore. He went after her, swung her around to face him.
“Okay, baby, you win. You know I can’t resist you.” He knew how to say what women wanted to hear. He laid it on thick. “If you walk out on me now, I’m just gonna have a real bad night. So let’s kiss and make up,” he wheedled.
She smiled, her narrow face lighting up as she let him kiss her. “I don’t want to have a bad night either, Frank,” she sighed, wrapping her arms around him.
Later, after they’d done the deed a few different times, a few different ways, and in a few different places, Wells was satisfied that he’d driven all thoughts of Jase Fortune from LeeAnn Culpepper’s mind.
But he lay awake smoking for hours as LeeAnn slept beside him. She’d never know that he hadn’t been thinking about her most of the time they were going at it. He’d been pretending he was screwing that sexy new bitch who’d shown up in the Saddleback today, and then at the Redrock.
He’d never had a woman as classy looking as that. Or as flat-out beautiful.
But, he told himself, as he stubbed out the butt of his cigarette in the ashtray beside LeeAnn’s bed, there’s a first time for everything, isn’t there?
And maybe, before he pulled up stakes on Wheeler and left this dud town behind, there’d be time for him to get a first taste of that.
Chapter Seven
Erinn was waiting outside the Saddleback Grill when Ginny Duncan arrived to open for business.
“Aren’t you the brave one?” The woman grinned at her first customer, fresh as the dew and dressed in low-rise jeans and a white tee. “Can’t believe you’re not wearing your waterproof pants today.”
“I’m willing to risk it for more of your chocolate-chip cookies,” Erinn answered with a smile. “But actually,” she continued as Ginny unlocked the door, “when you have a second, I’d like to talk to you.”
“Sure. Just give me about fifteen minutes to get the show on the road here.” Ginny held the door for her and flicked on the lights.
Erinn took a seat in one of the blue upholstered booths, ordered pancakes and coffee, then watched as within minutes a stream of people flowed into the restaurant, filling every booth and table.
When the morning rush subsided, Ginny ambled over and refilled Erinn’s coffee cup. She set the pot down and slid into the opposite side of the booth.
“So, now, what can I do for you?”
“I’m guessing you have a pretty good handle on everything worth knowing in Wolf River,” Erinn began.
“You could say that.”
“I need some advice.”
“Well, then. You’ve come to the right place, Miss…?”
“Erinn. Erinn Winters.”
“Pleased to meet you, Erinn.” Ginny studied her with eyes that were at once thoughtful and shrewd. “I’ve been informed I’m pretty good at telling people what they should do. Some call it meddling. I call it straight talk. So tell me what you need.”
“I’ve decided to stay on for a while in Wolf River and I need a place to live. For several weeks, most likely.” Erinn sighed, remembering Devon’s anger last night. “But possibly for the rest of the summer.”
As Ginny’s brows rose, Erinn continued quickly. “I’m looking to rent something—a small house or an apartment—even a room, if necessary. I thought you might be able to tell me if there’s a real estate office in town or someone you know who rents out property.”
“The real estate office is on Market Street.” Ginny looked thoughtful. “That’s two streets over, near the ice cream parlor. Mostly they handle property sales though. It wouldn’t hurt to check there, but…” She tapped a finger on the table. “I do know of one place…”
“Yes?” Erinn leaned forward.
“I’m not sure it would suit you,” Ginny said slowly. “Or even if the owner would be willing to rent it out. It’s stood empty for some years now—needs some cleaning and fixing up, but you might be able to get it cheap.”
“Oh?” Erinn felt a whisper of hope. Cheap sounded good. She’d have to watch her money now, what with her flatlining Devonshire book, and her New York rent and utilities, which she’d be paying while still renting living space in Wolf River.
“How cheap?”
“I’m not sure, but the owner doesn’t really need the money.” Ginny hesitated. “I don’t know if he’d be willing to let you—or anyone—stay there, though…”
Her voice trailed off.
“Is it here in town?” Erinn pressed.
“Nope. This little cabin’s in a real pretty valley, about fifteen miles west of here. There’s a creek running behind the property, lots of trees. Real private.”
“It sounds wonderful.” Erinn had an image of her and Devon having a picnic beneath one of those trees. And washing dishes together in a cozy kitchen, catching up on the past, reconnecting. “If you’ll give me the owner’s number, I’ll call him,” she said eagerly.
“Let me tell you something about the owner first. He hasn’t much bothered with the cabin in several years—it’s just sitting there. But that doesn’t mean he’ll rent it to you.” Ginny worried her lower lip. “On the other hand, if you head over to the real estate office on Market Street, could be Doug Pryor knows of an apartment in Crystalville. We don’t have any apartment buildings in Wolf River,” she explained. “This town’s just too small.”
“Crystalville’s too far away, Ginny. I want to be close to Wolf River.” And to Devon, whether she likes it or not.
“In that case…” Ginny drew a pencil from the pocket of her khakis and scribbled on a page from her order pad. “Here’s the cell phone number of the fellow you need to contact. You might as well give it a try. You, um, sort of met him already,” she added dryly.
Erinn took one glance at the name on the paper and stared at her in disbelief. “Jase Fortune? He owns the cabin?”
“Every square inch and the land it’s built on. Guess you know he’s the one who threw that cold water on you yesterday.”
“Oh, yes, I know it, all right,” Erinn muttered.
Ginny chuckled at her less-than-pleased expression. “That’s not the reaction most women have when Jase’s name comes up. You wouldn’t believe how many single gals in the county have tried to make him forget all about his first wife and her hijinks. But none of ’em have been able to do it, more’s the pity.”
