Chapter 13

13

Melissa

D arla is out until the evening running the last of the errands before the weekend while the guys are handling the southern gate issue. I thought I’d feel weird being in the house all by myself, but it’s nice. The halls are decked, the air is loaded with a soft hint of apple and cinnamon, the candles burn gently in their brushed bronze trays, and I’m almost done decorating the Christmas tree.

My heart is so full, overflowing with a warm kind of sweetness. And I’m honored and humbled that they asked me to do this. When Kyle brought the Douglas fir in earlier this afternoon, I was beside myself. Heck, I almost cried when he told me Colton and his brothers were “kindly asking” me to decorate it. Of course, the guys knew it would make me so happy.

Once Kyle supplied me with the ornament boxes, I was ready to get to work.

“Lord, you look so pretty,” I tell the tree, now mounted in the living room by the eastern window.

Mug in hand, I freeze when someone knocks on the door. I know to keep the doors locked when I’m alone, and there are motion sensors and cameras everywhere, so the guys know if somebody comes through the gates. Whoever is on the porch right now, the Averys or their ranch hands can’t be too far behind.

“Who is it?” I call out.

But there’s no answer, just a second knock.

I set the mug down and cautiously walk to the door. One look through the peephole, and I can feel my insides burning. An unpleasant heat washes over me as I break into a cold sweat—an odd sensation I’d hoped never to feel again.

“Jake,” I say with a trembling voice as I open the door. “What the hell are you doing here? How’d you find me?”

He looks different, meeker. He hasn’t gotten much sleep lately judging by the dark circles under his eyes. His oversized black woolen coat makes him appear thin. His legs look like two sticks coming out of a barrel. He’s clearly had a rough few years.

Good.

“Hey, Melissa,” he says, his voice soft, his smile friendly. “I wasn’t sure I’d found the right ranch, but I saw you with the cattle the other day and—”

“That was you,” I gasp, “by the gate?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to come by unannounced. I just wanted to see you.” He looks me up and down. “You look wonderful.”

Once the initial shock wears off, the anger I thought I’d bottled up and hidden somewhere in the recesses of my consciousness, somewhere deep and dark enough that it would never see the light of day again comes back with a vengeance.

Every muscle in my body tenses, fury loading my fists with an itch to hit him, to throw things at his head, to pummel him into a bloody, lifeless mess who I once thought I’d raise a family with. Unbelievable.

“What the fuck do you want?” I ask, my tone clipped.

“You’re angry; I get it,” he says. “But if you’ll just let me explain—”

“Explain what? You framed me!” I shout, my rage at a maximum level. “I went to prison because of you, you asshole!”

Jake takes a deep breath and nods with an infuriating sort of piety. “I did you wrong and dirty, Melissa. And I need to apologize first and foremost.”

“I was sentenced to five years in prison. My record is forever blemished. There’s no apology in this world that will ever fix what you did to me. Those were your drugs!”

“And we’re in trouble, Melissa,” he interrupts. “That’s why I’m here.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I manage.

It’s cold outside. A rising wind blows through the house, bringing some of the snow in with it.

Jake notices me shivering in the doorway. “Can I come in? We need to talk. I swear I come in peace,” he says.

“Fine,” I reply with clattering teeth.

The guys should be on their way back anyway. But just to be sure, I take the phone Colton gave me out of my jeans pocket and briefly text him while Jake steps into the hallway and politely shuts the door behind him. My instincts are on fire, but I’m not sure what the danger is—Jake was never violent, nor did he ever threaten me in any way. For as long as I can remember, he was soft and well mannered, and that doesn’t seem to have changed. It’s just his shitty character that I’ve become aware of.

“Okay, I am sorry,” he says. “I am so sorry for what I had to do. But I didn’t have a choice, I swear, Melissa.”

“You didn’t have a choice but to lie about me in a court of law?” I shoot back. “It’s perjury in case you didn’t know.”

“It’s in the past either way. I can’t change any of it. I’m sorry for that, too.”

“Oh, good, you’re sorry. All is well and right with the world again. Whoop-dee-doo.”

“All isn’t well and right with the world because the cartel knows you’re out.”

Again, I find myself dumbfounded and staring at him, unable to keep up with what’s coming out of his mouth. “The cartel?”

“Those drugs you were moving—”

“The drugs I was unknowingly moving for you. ”

“Yeah, they belonged to the Esparza cartel,” Jake says, “Colombians who’ve spent the past decade setting up quite the market out here in Nebraska. You don’t want to mess with them. They’re bad, Melissa. Really bad.”

“Not my fucking problem. I’m still serving my sentence.”

Jake smiles. Part of him is enjoying this. He’s trying to be apologetic, but the true side of him is slowly but surely rearing its ugly head as he speaks. “Melissa, those drugs were worth about two million dollars. The cartel wants their money.”

“Oh, my God,” I gasp, finally realizing what he’s saying. “You didn’t just pin this on me with the law. You sold me out to the cartel, too. You fucking bastard!”

I take a few deep breaths to regain my self-control as Jake keeps talking. I can feel a panic attack coming, and I certainly can’t afford to be in any way impaired or vulnerable in his presence. The more I hear, however, the deeper I sink into despair, making it harder and harder for me to breathe.

“Oh, Jesus,” I mumble, holding on to the edge of the Nativity side table to stop myself from crumbling to the floor.

“They were going to kill me,” Jake says. “I had to tell them something that night. It’s how I got the idea to testify against you, in fact. And I know it sounds awful. I get it, but I didn’t have a choice. The Esparza cartel… Melissa, they slit throats and hang the bodies out for everyone to see in order to send a message. I didn’t want to end up with a Colombian necktie over a goddamn mistake.”

“A mistake?”

“You weren’t supposed to take that route. I specifically told you, remember? Take Maverick Avenue. Stay away from Circle Street. And you went right down Circle Street… there were cops there, screening traffic for a van.”

“They were tipped off,” I say, remembering my crappy defense attorney’s notes during our prep sessions prior to the trial. “They were tipped off about your van.”

“Well, I made enemies in that business,” Jake says and sighs. “It was only a matter of time before they got the cops involved just to mess with my operation.”

“Why did you ask me to move the van for you?” I ask.

Jake shakes his head. “Believe me when I tell you that none of that matters anymore unless we find a solution.”

“Unless we find a solution?”

“Your ass is on the line, too,” he says.

“My ass belongs to Ridgeboro Correctional Facility for the next two years,” I reply harshly.

“Melissa, the Esparza cartel wants their drugs back. Or two million, cash,” Jake sighs again. “I tried to get my hands on the stuff, but the cops have it. They put it in evidence, and it will be destroyed sometime this year, which leaves us both short by about two million bucks to stay alive.”

“Jake, you’ve lost your damned mind. This is your responsibility.”

“They think you were stealing the drugs from me that night.”

My stomach drops. All I can do is lean back against the wall, my vision gradually losing focus.

“They… oh, God,” I mumble, tears pricking my eyes.

“I know, I know…”

“You know,” I repeat his senseless words, wishing I had some strength left to beat him bloody because that’s what he deserves. “I finally had some peace. I was okay with going through the rest of my sentence… and then you… you show up—”

“I didn’t want to, believe me,” Jake says. “But I had to tell you… Melissa, it doesn’t look good. I can’t exactly walk back on everything I said either. I’m just here to warn you as a favor.”

“To warn me?”

“The Esparza cartel. I found you here, and so will they. So you need to figure out a way to get them that money before they do. I can hold them back for as long as I can, throw them off your trail, but that’s it.”

The blows just keep coming.

“You want me to get two million dollars so the Esparza cartel, whose drugs you lost by putting me in your van, so they won’t kill me for your fuck up? Am I getting this right?”

“That’s correct. It is what it is, Melissa. There’s no other way around it.”

“And what if I get a better lawyer and appeal my sentence? A good defense would probably poke holes in every lie you declared on the stand.”

Jake’s expression darkens. His once-bright brown eyes take on a feral glow, and he moves toward me. For the first time, I see the real Jake, the monster hiding behind good manners and soft-spoken words. The bastard who put me away, who destroyed my life. And I’m afraid. I am genuinely afraid, paralyzed, barely able to breathe.

“If you so much as think about screwing me, Melissa, I’ll release the hounds of hell. I’ll let the cartel come for you. They won’t even bother squeezing that money out of you. They’ll just torture you until you beg them to kill you. And then, the cops will find your body in pieces scattered all over Nebraska,” he says, his voice cold, his glare deadly.

“You fucking prick,” I snarl. “Where am I supposed to find two million dollars?”

“You’re a resourceful girl.”

“I’ll go public—” I say but he slams a fist into the wall right next to my head, and I yelp, the blood rushing up to my head with lightning speed.

“I’ll tear you to fucking shreds!” Jake snaps.

A split-second later, he’s yanked away and thrown out the door like a sack of potatoes. I hear his grunt as he lands on the porch, the thuds accompanying the rolling motion down the steps.

In his stead, I see Ethan.

“Ethan,” I whisper, though I still can’t move.

“Are you okay?” he asks, panting with raw anger.

I nod slowly, though we both know I’m lying.

“Who’s that?” he asks, pointing at Jake, who’s done tumbling in the snow and is now struggling to get back on his feet.

“Jake,” I manage.

Ethan pauses, his gaze darting between Jake and me. The look on his face is impossible to decipher, but I feel the deadly intention in each of his moves. He’s like a tiger on the prowl, the blue of his eyes are pitch black as he walks back out. With automatic movements, I follow him to the edge of the porch just in time to see Jake get up.

“What the fuck, man?” Jake shouts.

“You punched my wall and threatened a lady,” Ethan replies bluntly. “A lady I’m very fond of. So, at this point, you have two options.”

“Whoa, buddy. Melissa and I go way back—”

“I know who you are, you piece of shit. Your options remain the same. You stay here, and I kill you slowly or you get the fuck out of here and never show your face around these parts again. I’m giving you five seconds.”

Jake laughs nervously, but Ethan’s hand is already reaching behind him where he keeps a gun holstered on his lower back.

“Hey, I’m not trying to start anything here. Let’s chill,” Jake says. But his gaze follows Ethan’s hand as well, and he knows what’s coming if he doesn’t choose. “Buddy, come on.”

“Five,” Ethan says.

“Now, hold on—”

“Four.”

“Get out of here, Jake,” I tell him, shaking like a leaf beside Ethan. “We’re done talking.”

“Three.”

“Come on, Melissa, I’m trying to help you…”

“Two,” Ethan says.

And Jake finally takes a few steps back, raising his hands in a defensive gesture. “Alright, alright, I’m going. I’m going.”

“One.”

“I said I’m going!” Jake replies and starts running to his pickup truck. The snow is thick and treacherous under his boots. He slips a few times, stumbling and falling and crying out in pain from the tumble he took down the porch.

Ethan watches him like a hawk, hand fixed on his gun, ready to whip it out.

I hold my breath until Jake gets in his truck and fumbles around with the key. A second or two later, I hear the old engine roar to life, and Jake swerves around and back up the driveway leading to the gates.

“Melissa,” Ethan turns to me with the same dark look on his face.

Nausea wraps me in a bitter blanket, a horrible taste invading my mouth as I realize I’m going to puke all over him unless I get to the bathroom. “I’m so sorry,” I reply and bolt into the house.

Ethan doesn’t follow me.

I spend the next half hour hunched over the toilet, crying and losing my lunch down the drain. My chest hurts, my throat burns. Droplets of cold sweat cover my face, dripping down my temples until they seep into the collar of my plaid shirt.

Just when I thought I was out from under the dark cloud of my past, it descends on me once again.