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Nodding at me, Ridge says, “Your truck’s out back?”
“Yep. You might as well use the back door so you don’t have to walk around the whole building.”
Jess and Ridge talk about checking the truck as we move to the back door.
As we cross the patio, where there’s a tall outdoor heater blasting hot air, we say good night to several people, including a hefty-looking man with one hand wrapped in gauze—the infamous Arthur, I assume.
My stomach has been gurgling with dread ever since Jess told us about the men near Ridge’s truck.
I can’t believe I thought this would work.
Clay’s goons are wolves, plain and simple. Trying to scare them off might just make them more determined.
After we climb in a white pickup with Berland Auto Deals painted on the doors, I say, “It was Pete, wasn’t it?”
“Probably. A prick with a name like Jackknife seems destined for crappy jobs,” Ridge says. “I’m glad our announcement worked.”
Confused, I look at him. “Did it? How do you know?”
“Jess is a good guy. By showing up tonight, he saw those busy little fucking bees buzzing around the truck. Proves we’ve got someone else on our side looking out for us. And now we have a bar full of fine people who’ll spread our engagement news far and wide. By the end of the weekend, everyone in Dallas will be on the lookout for unfamiliar faces, thinking they’re reporters coming to shake them down.”
That’s…not half bad.
I lean back, letting it sink in.
“You ever lived in a small town?” he asks, looking over, his eyes dancing with blue mischief.
“No. Our farm was outside of the city, but still close enough. The nearest town was a suburb. It was different from city living, but it wasn’t the same as living way off the beaten path.” That’s the only way I can describe it.
“Can’t say I’m flush with experience either,” he says. “But I had Army buddies who came from small, homey places. Split Harbor and Heart’s Edge and plenty more sleepy little places in between. Hearing them talk about their hometowns made me curious. That’s what I was looking for when I hit up my buddy, Faulk, knowing he’d moved out here after years in the FBI. First time I visited Dallas, I knew I’d found my place.”
“Small towns can have their issues, too,” I say, having heard that. “I read about that Heart’s Edge place one state over. Jesus, all that Galentron stuff…”
“I know. There are demons everywhere and plenty more people who are just damn annoying. I’m used to it. It’s the community I’m after,” he tells me, this dark, whimsical look coming over his face.
“Why?”
“Can’t find that in L.A. Can’t even buy it. Plus, when it comes to little towns, their bad apples are easy to root out. Bastard scum like Clay just fester and thrive in their big city cover. And honestly? I’ve had enough of being worshiped by strangers back home. I want to be part of something normal, deeper, lasting.”
His eyes light up the longer he goes on, blue flames dancing around his pupils when he smiles.
If there was any question about Dallas being some kind of phase he’s going through, it’s gone.
“What about your family?” I ask, glancing over, choosing my words with surgical precision.
We’ve left town, and now we’re on the highway.
He glances in the mirror as he says, “Don’t have one anymore. Not counting Tobin, I guess. He’s not blood, but the man’s been around ever since I was a kid. He’s dedicated his entire life to service.”
“No one else since your mom died? No extended relatives?”
“No. My father had some kind of falling out when Grandpa’s airline was sold off in the merger. If it was deeper than that, I never knew it. So that side was just a big black hole. Mom, she ran off from home when she was sixteen and risked everything for her career. She landed in Hollywood, and always swore her family only reached out for money after abandoning her for years, so I never met them, either. Her folks are both long dead. Died before I went into the Army.”
My heart aches for him.
He speaks a pain I know too well. Outside Noelle and her family over in Miles City, Dad and I haven’t really had anyone since my mom passed on.
“What made you choose the Army?” I wonder out loud. “When you were arguing with your agent, I overheard her say something about covering for you?”
“Bebe Silk has a big damn savior complex…even if it’s well deserved. I had to get away, Grace.” He reaches across the console and takes my hand.
I turn, studying him, awed by how gorgeous he looks painted in the shadows.
“From everything. Mom had me in commercials and advertising since I was born. Then it was TV. Name a show from the nineties, and I was probably in several episodes as the neighbor kid, the injured kid, or the dead kid. Then I shifted to movies when I got older. Guest appearances in Mom’s big hits at first. By the time I was a teen, like they always do, I rebelled. Just wanted normalcy, to go to school instead of having on-site tutors as we traveled around the world, wherever the next movie was filming.”
