Chapter 23

CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE

I was changing out the books on the new release table, half listening to Mrs. Simpson on the phone while wondering if Letty would fire me if I took the advanced reader copy Harloe Rae book. Surely she wouldn’t have time to read it with an infant at home. Even if at four weeks she was bragging about him sleeping through the night.

My body gave an involuntary shake thinking about Letty and baby Maverick. One could say Letty was very vocal about the pain she was in. And after she’d gotten the epidural she was very descriptive in her account of the pain she had been in and vowed she was scheduling a c-section if there was to be a second child.

I’d thought she’d gotten off lucky when her labor had only lasted three hours. But when we’d been allowed to go into her room and in her arms was a nine-pound ten-ounce adorable baby boy, I thought a c-section was a good idea for the next Kent baby.

The only not so great part about Maverick’s birth was River’s siblings: Echo, Phoenix, and Shiloh weren’t there. Letty went into labor two weeks early, which I thought was a blessing because that nine-pound ten-ounce adorable baby boy could’ve turned into ten-pounds ten-ounces. And we’d all heard enough from Letty waxing poetic about her vagina not being equipped to have Kent babies. A ten-pounder might’ve ended in Mav being an only child.

Hell, the experience was enough for me to tell Davis we weren’t having kids—ever.

But then the next week when Letty and River started having visitors and Davis and I went over to see the baby, I’d quickly changed my mind, and secretly I hoped I’d have a nine-pound baby with chubby cheeks and fat rolls. He was beautiful with Letty’s dark hair and River’s icy blue eyes. And seeing River cradle his son made me want to take my husband home and tell him I was done with the pill and wanted to get down to business.

Fortunately logic won out.

I wanted more time with just me and him.

“Jane, when you’re done, Letty sent new pictures,” Mrs. Simpson called from her chair behind the register.

The books could wait, I needed my daily Maverick fix.

When I got close the scent of Chanel N°5 filled the air and I smiled.

Mrs. Simpson was pure class. Dressed to the nines, full face of make-up, and expensive perfume to come to work in a bookstore. I’d fallen in love with her instantly. She was kind and wise and gave the guys ruff as often as she could, which was every time one of them came into the store.

“Isn’t he a doll?” she breathed, and shoved her phone out for me to see.

I took Mrs. Simpson’s phone and stared at chubby-faced Mav puckering his cute little baby lips.

“Absolutely.”

I handed Mrs. Simpson back her phone.

“When are you and Davis going to have children?”

I was used to this. Mrs. Simpson might’ve been class but she was nosey with a love for a good conspiracy theory. In the last four weeks she was positive the garbage collector was a Canadian spy, the neighbor above her who had moved into Letty’s old apartment had ties to the mob, and she was certain the wildlife management had released cougars on Tubbs Hill to keep the bear population down. The woman was a riot. I adored every minute I worked with her.

“Not for a while,” I answered as I walked back to finish the new display.

“Don’t wait too long, dear.”

When she didn’t continue and I knew she had more to say I looked over to find her staring off into space.

“Mrs. Simpson?”

“When you’re in the thick of it, it’s hard. There will be days when your home is a mess, dinner will be burnt, you’ll want to cry in exhaustion or scream in frustration. But every minute is worth it. Every second a gift. Then they grow up and that happens too quickly. Your home is back in order, no more toys scattered about, no more piles of laundry, no more dinners to burn. And you miss it. You miss the noise and runny noses and the bickering. But then it starts over and your grandchildren come over and you have to put all the breakables up and get baby gates so they don’t fall down the stairs and you get to bask in the beauty you created.” Mrs. Simpson’s eyes cleared and she smiled sweetly. “You and Davis get to break the cycle. You two will create a beautiful family. You will love your children—not more than other parents do, but perhaps differently because you and Davis, you know and you learned, and you overcame. Don’t wait too long, Jane. All that beauty awaits.”

I felt tears prick the back of my eyes. But before the first one could fall, Mrs. Simpson abruptly changed the topic.

“My granddaughter Atlee will be coming to visit soon. That was her on the phone. She called to tell me about her promotion. She works in Las Vegas. I wish she’d picked another city without as much crime but she’s in the hotel industry so Viva Las Vegas it is.”

It took me a moment to get my emotions under control and wrap my head around the subject change.

“That’s cool. I can’t wait to meet her.”

“No, Jane, that is not cool,” she replied haughtily “My granddaughter’s upcoming visit is magnificent. It is one of the many ways I get to bask in the beautiful family I created.”

I couldn’t help my lips from twitching. But I held it together—barely. Knowing that if Mrs. Simpson saw she’d launch into a twenty-minute lecture about how my generation has butchered the English language.

Thankfully the chime over the door went off so I had an excuse to smile.

I turned to welcome the newcomer but stopped when a uniformed police officer frowned at me.

“Hi, may I help you?”

His frown turned into a look of distress but it seemed off.

“Are you Jane Morgan Wright?”

“Yes.”

“Is your brother Trevor Lawrence?”

My blood ran cold.

What had my asshole brother done now and why was I being bothered at work?

I straightened my shoulders, unwilling to allow anything my brother had done to make me look like I was anything but the respectable, honest citizen I was.

“Yes,” I answered curtly. “However, I would appreciate—”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but Trevor’s been in an accident. He’s critical.”

My stomach hollowed like I’d been punched in the gut.

“What?”

“You’re his next of kin. It’s not looking…good.”

Oh my God.

“It’s not looking good?” I repeated.

“I’m here to escort you to the hospital.”

I stood frozen, not believing what I was hearing.

It wasn’t good.

I could read between the lines.

He wasn’t going to make it.

Suddenly all I could picture was my big brother standing next to me on my first day of school. He’d squeezed my hand and sent me off to class. My brother getting me medicine when I was sick because my father couldn’t be bothered. Trevor making me canned soup and grilled cheeses for dinner because that was all he knew how to make.

“Go, Jane. I’ll call Davis and tell him to meet you there.”

“Um?” I stammered.

Did I want to see Trevor before he died?

I wasn’t sure.

Maybe I should wait for Davis to take me.

“Miss, you don’t have long.”

Davis worked thirty minutes away. He was closer to the hospital than I was. He could meet me there.

God, why did I argue with Davis when he took me to look at cars? He wanted me in an all-wheel drive. I wanted a Honda like I’d sold before I went on the run. We bickered, I got stubborn, and now we were going out again this weekend to look. I should’ve gotten the Subaru.

“Miss?”

Why was I thinking about cars when my brother was in the hospital dying?

“Yeah, I’m coming. Kootenai Health, right?”

“Yes,” the officer pushed out.

I turned to Mrs. Simpson.

“You’ll—”

“Go, darlin’. I’ll call Davis.” She already had her phone in her hand.

Davis would meet me there, then I’d decide what I wanted to do.

I followed the police officer out to the street. A black Ford Explorer was double-parked. He helped me into the front seat, jogged around the hood, and got in.

We were at the end of the block at the stop sign when I got my shit together enough to speak.

“I didn’t ask your name.”

Out of the corner of my eye I saw him move in a flash.

Then pain exploded at my left temple.

So much pain it was a relief when everything went black.

* * *

I woke up to shouting.

I was no longer in the car. My head throbbed and the cop yelling was not helping the pain. I reached up to rub my temple and that’s when the reality of my situation came crashing down around me.

My hands were cuffed in front me. My ankles were definitely secured to the chair I was sitting on and I didn’t have to look to know there was something around my chest. I leaned forward and the strap didn’t budge.

Oh, shit.

Holy shit.

I glanced around a room I’d never been in and couldn’t find a single object that would give me a hint as to where I was.

“I told you, motherfucker, you gave that recording to my wife I was going to kill you. The bitch took my kid and left. Now you pay.”

That didn’t sound good.

There was silence but not for long when the cop turned to me and smirked.

“Yeah, Zeus, you’re gonna pay or your pretty little sister—” The cop went silent.

Zeus.

Of course my brother was involved.

I wasn’t surprised but I was shocked.

And the shocking part was how I’d gone from being scared my brother was going to die while I was standing in the bookstore to now wanting to kill him myself.

“I already have the bitch,” he continued. “Now, you bring me my money or she bites it. Choice is yours but you better make it fast. The old broad already called Wright.”

Mrs. Simpson.

Davis.

Panic crept in.

Was Mrs. Simpson in danger?

And Davis, he was going to go crazy—like tear-the-city-apart crazy looking for me. He’d go to Zeus first. He’d go to the compound and go up against all of the Horsemen to get to my brother.

“No bullshit, Zeus. You come alone with my money or she’s dead. You got twenty minutes before I’m gone.”

Twenty minutes.

Then I was dead.