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“You’re not a meal ticket.”
“You can write other books but this is ours…our horror, our pain…it shouldn’t become a public circus, not again.”
“I have a contract. The book is already in production—”
“They can’t publish something if you don’t turn it in.”
“I do not not turn things in. It would kill my career if I failed to deliver.”
“You’re not allowed to change your mind?”
“Not after I’ve been paid.”
“Give the money back.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“What if you got sick? What if you couldn’t finish it?”
“That won’t happen.”
“What if you were no longer able to write?”
“Is that a threat?”
“I am not prepared to tell my six-year-old that his mother’s family was slain in a bloody rampage. I am not.”
“I’m not unsympathetic—”
“Bastard.” The oath was followed by Trey’s right fist, colliding with Shane’s jaw.
Pissed off, as much by the blow as by the curse, Shane responded with a swift, hard undercut that would have sent anyone else flying, but Trey merely rocked back a step before coming back for more.
Jet was making a racket in the background, yelling at them to stop, but neither of them listened, too busy throwing punches, quick, controlled blows, much like boxers in a ring. Trey was a good fighter, Shane would give him that, but Shane had skills, too.
He would have never survived if he hadn’t learned to protect himself—and others. But right now this wasn’t about protecting himself. Right now this was about establishing himself. Introducing who he really was.
Not some hipster writer from Manhattan, but a Sheenan.
His “brothers” might be tough, but he was just as strong, just as committed. He didn’t just hold his own, he could go the distance.
“What the hell do you want?” Trey growled, slamming his fist into Shane’s gut.
Shane coughed, the wind temporarily knocked out of him, but he came back with a swift fist to Trey’s face. Blood spurted from Trey’s nose.
“What are you asking?” Shane asked, tasting blood from his split lip.
“Tell me what you’re getting for this book and I’ll pay you the same not to publish it.”
“You couldn’t afford it.”
“You’ve no idea what I can afford. You’ve no idea about my finances.” Trey landed a blow on the side of Shane’s head. “Asshole.”
That one made Shane see stars. He blinked and quickly wiped the blood from his lip. “It’s seven figures plus. And then there’s the film deal. And foreign rights. Audio.” He threw a punch at Trey’s jaw, which Trey blocked this time.
“Total it up. I’ll draft a contract. We’ll make the deal.”
“But there’s no deal.” Shane was able to land a low one, in Trey’s belly. “My book and my business—”
“About my wife.” Trey slammed his fist into Shane’s cheekbone, and then a quick second into his nose.
Again Shane saw stars. He was beginning to tire but there was no way he’d give up. Not now. Not ever. “It’s not about her,” Shane gritted, feeling blood on his upper lip now. His nose must be bleeding too, now. “It’s about a crime no one solved, and it should be solved.” He danced back, dodging Trey’s fist. “Unless there’s a very good reason why it shouldn’t…can you think of one?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“Maybe a Sheenan was involved. Maybe one of your brothers—”
Trey connected this time, making Shane stumble backwards. He struggled to stay on his feet. “Don’t ever say that again.” Trey gave Shane a hard shove.
Shane pushed him right back. “If you care so much about your wife, find out who killed her family! Don’t you think she deserves that? Doesn’t she deserve closure? Or is she supposed to go through her whole life wondering what the hell happened to her family? What the hell happened to her life?”
It wasn’t until Shane had his hand wrapped around Trey’s throat that he realized Trey was no longer fighting back.
Trey was just standing there, staring into Shane’s eyes. “I don’t want her hurt anymore,” he said quietly, roughly. “She’s been through enough.”
Shane dropped his hand but he didn’t step away. He stayed where he was…which was right in Trey’s face. “It’s not to hurt her. It’s to answer questions no one has been able to answer.”
“And can you? Or are you just stirring things up for a million-dollar contract? Because if that’s the case, I’ll give you the money and you can walk away and we can all get back to our lives.”
“It’s not about money,” Shane retorted impatiently, using the back of his wrist to wipe away more blood from his nose and mouth. “It’s about doing what no one else has been able to do.”
Trey’s gaze burned. He stared Shane down. “You’re not going to drop it, are you?”
“I’m not easily intimidated, Sheenan.”
Trey’s brow creased and then eased. “You just don’t care, do you?”
“I’m not a quitter.”
“What does that even mean?”
“It means I signed a contract. I’m delivering the book. I don’t accept failure—”
“Even if it causes others tremendous pain?”
Shane couldn’t answer. He didn’t.
Trey read the silence for what it was. “What a piece of work you are,” he muttered, disgusted. Blotting his mouth, he turned away, heading back down the hall for the front door. As he reached for the doorknob, he paused, and looked back at Shane. “You have one week to get the hell out of this house.”
Shane walked down the hall towards Trey. “According to my lease, I have thirty days from notice. The notice came Friday.”
“I don’t care about paperwork. I’m not interested in legalese. I’m telling you, man-to-man, if you are here next Sunday at three o’clock in the afternoon, I will personally throw you out.”
“That’s assault. You’ll serve time. Again.”
“It’d be worth it.”
“Really? Is that your idea of protecting your family? Maybe that explains why your wife almost married someone else eighteen months ago while you were still at Deer Lodge Prison.”
Trey lunged at Shane. Shane answered with a right hook. Trey grabbed Shane around the neck and then froze at the sound of a high pitched scream.
“Stop it! Stop it now!” It was Jet, shouting to be heard over them. “And if you don’t, I’m calling 911 and reporting an assault. Do you hear me? So stop it. That’s enough. Both of you.”
Trey shot Jet a hard, cold glance but released Shane.
Shane moved back but his arms were up, fists clenched, ready for another go.
“Leave, Trey,” Jet choked. “Leave now. Please.”
And to Shane’s surprise, he did.
Chapter Eight
As Trey walked out the front door, Jet turned around and headed down the hall, through the kitchen to exit the small mudroom lean-to.
She walked quickly, desperate to escape the house, the fight, and the horrible, horrible pictures in her head. The blows. The blood. The things said.
McKenna’s mother assaulted in front of her family. Her father tortured. The children dying…
It was too violent, too a
wful to process and yet this was the book Shane was writing. This was what he’d spent the past nine months working on…
Heartsick, she walked and walked, passing the tractor and going around the side of the big, weathered barn. The heels on her shoes crunched clods of dirty ice. She should have brought her coat. She was cold but the frigid winter air cooled her skin, numbing her emotions.
She didn’t know what was worse, either. The things that had been said or the fight. She had brothers. Three of them. And growing up they’d argue and get into it now and then, but they’d never shed blood. They’d never been so physical…so violent.
She disappeared behind the barn and as she came around the other side, a dark red horse with a white star on his forehead appeared at the edge of the corral. Ears alert, he lifted his head and nickered softly, greeting her. When she didn’t respond he gave his head a little toss, tail swishing, and nickered again. She moved towards the railing, welcoming the distraction.
Jet wished she had a carrot or apple, or a sugar cube. Instead she approached empty handed, palm open. He nuzzled her hand, exhaling to blow air on her palm.
“Handsome boy,” she murmured, rubbing the side of his head. He seemed to like it. “Are you lonely out here?” She crooned nonsense words while she rubbed his nose and little by little her heartbeat slowed, settling.
She could still hear the dull thuds of the blows connecting with jaws and cheekbones and hard abdomens. She could still feel the tension knotting in her shoulders and cramping her belly. But she also remembered something else, something that Shane had said. Doesn’t she deserve closure? Or is she supposed to go through her whole life wondering what the hell happened to her family? What the hell happened to her life?
And it struck her that maybe, just maybe, this was why Shane was here, tackling this story, and others like it.
He, himself, had no closure. His past was a mystery. He didn’t know what had happened to his family and this was what drove him to find answers…not just for himself, but for others like him.
And there was something else about the fight that bothered her. The fight was fierce and brutal and yet they’d looked well-matched. They appeared to know how to fight the other, as if they’d fought each other before—which she knew hadn’t happened. They’d never even met until today. But they’d looked similar and they’d even moved in almost the same way…
