Chapter 13

Chapter

Thirteen

KEIR

“Dearly, you have the sexiest ass.”My legs were draped over strong shoulders as a thick finger circled my hole. It was slick, and it ignited a fire inside me. All the blood in my head rushed south at a dizzying pace, making my cock throb.

“Need you inside me.” My voice was hoarse as I clutched the sheet beneath my hands to keep from scratching my nails over his beautiful flesh.

He had chin-length blond hair that framed a gorgeous face and the most unique eyes I’d ever seen. They gazed into mine as the head of his cock brushed against my entrance, and as he slowly glided inside, filling me completely, he gave me a beautiful smile. “I love you so much. I don’t know what I did before I met you.”

He slid back but didn’t pull out all the way. “Fuck, you feel good wrapped around⁠—"

Shouts yanked me from my beautiful dream. My heart pounded as I hopped up from the chair where I’d fallen asleep because Sibley had taken the bed. I now understood why it hadn’t felt right to climb in with her. Besides the fact that I was gay, I knew deep down she was someone else’s wife.

I glanced at the bed to see she was sleeping soundly, with a peaceful smile. It was a relief to see it, especially under the circumstances.

I walked over to the door and opened it. Downstairs was quiet. I made my way to the first floor and looked out the front door.

An unknown man had a long gun trained on my father, who was holding his hands in the air. That wasn’t good. I opened the front door and heard the man yell, “Where’s my daughter?”

Suddenly, the upstairs window shot open, and a shrill voice cut through the air. “Daddy! What are you doing here?”

“Sibley! Come back to the house. Your momma’s worried sick that you didn’t come back.”

“Dad, go home. I’ll be there later.” Sibley slammed the window shut without another word.

I liked her. She wasn’t one to take a lot of shit, from what I could tell, and she didn’t seem to be happy about her father showing up with a shotgun.

“Is he here?”

I assumed he was talking about me, and there was no mistaking the fact he didn’t like me… or the husband who looked like me. Based on what Sibley had told me the previous evening, he had every reason.

I slid on my boots by the door, took a breath, and stepped outside. “I’m here.”

The man pointed the gun at me, snarling his disgust. “You son of a bitch. You told her you didn’t want the baby? You don’t deserve to have either of them.”

I certainly couldn’t argue with the man on that front, but I wanted to bang my head against the wall to see if I could shake loose more memories so I could dispute my unworthiness. That would probably get me locked up in a mental facility.

Sibley’s father was well within his right to look out for his daughter. In his opinion, she had the worst husband in the world. Unfortunately, if those things were said to her about not wanting the baby, her father was right.

Even though I didn’t think I was her husband, I wanted to take care of her as long as I was around. But first, I needed information from her father, hoping my questions weren’t the precursor to getting an ass full of lead.

“Mr…” Shit! What was the man’s name? What was Sibley’s given name? For that matter, what’s my last name? Why can’t I remember something like that?

“Tell me why I shouldn’t just shoot you.” He was still pointing that gun, so I held up my hands. No sudden moves.

“Ethan George, put that damn pellet gun down right now, you crazy fool. You’ll hurt one of us or yourself.” I glanced toward the sound of the voice. It was my mom, and she had a gun pointed at the man who was pointing one at me.

Mr. George dropped the nose of the rifle toward the ground and stared at Betty. “That still got those rubber bullets in it?”

The door behind me crashed open, and Sibley stomped down the front stairs and over to her father. “You’re going to hurt someone with that thing, Daddy. What is wrong with you?”

She jerked the gun away and tossed it on the ground before she hugged her father. It was sort of sweet—except that he had been planning to shoot me.

“I spent the night. Keirnan and I had a lot to talk about, and it was late when we finished, so I slept here. Mark my words, Daddy, we’re going to get back together and have a baby. You can be pissed about it all you want, but it’s going to happen. We’ve just hit a rough patch.”

She sounded damn sure, which was good. One of us should be.

“Mr. George, sir, why don’t you come inside and have some coffee. I really want to ask you some questions about Marcus Shannon.”

He snarled and grabbed me by the shirt. “I told you not to get involved with that man again after we paid off your debt. You didn’t go back to him and start betting again, did you?”

Betty gasped, and Ronald ripped off his cap, throwing it on the ground as he stomped around and shook his head. I suddenly felt guilty, though I was damn sure I hadn’t done anything.

“What’s he talking about, Keirnan?” It was Betty, and she was entitled to an answer. Unfortunately, that was something I couldn’t give her.

“Let’s all go inside before we freeze to death. We have some things to discuss.” Sibley was definitely the voice of reason.

Finally, the guns were left on the porch, and the five of us went inside out of the cold. We settled in the kitchen, and Betty gathered coffee cups from the cupboard and a tray of warm cinnamon rolls from the oven.

“Well, somebody better start talking.” Ethan George was a large man who wasn’t one to be trifled with.

I turned to Sibley, and she nodded. “Go ahead and ask him.”

“Mr. George, can you tell me, maybe again, what you know about Marcus Shannon?” I had the feeling that was the best place to start.

“Marcus Shannon? Marcus Shannon, the mob boss?” The pitch of his voice reflected his disbelief that I’d asked. It was likely as bad as I assumed.

“Yes. Apparently, I owe him a huge sum of money. He claims I took out a loan, and Shannon wants half his money—plus twenty-five percent interest—before Thanksgiving. Shannon is threatening me if I don’t repay the money, but I don’t remember taking out a loan or have the slightest idea where the money went. Sibley tells me you gave us a hundred grand to pay off a bet I made before I went into counseling. Did you go with me to pay the bet? Where can I find this Marcus Shannon?”

I then turned to Ronald and Betty. “You need to get Kathy away from Darryl. He’s the one who threatened me last night on Shannon’s behalf. Kathy even said I should heed the warning because they will come after me and maybe the two of you if I don’t pay up.”

Ethan slammed his fist on the table, rattling the cups. “That son of a bitch. I’ll kill him with my bare damn hands.”

“How did Darryl get involved with Marcus Shannon?” I glanced in Betty’s direction for an answer.

“They closed the small branch office of the Farmers Bank & Trust here in Gilbert, so we had to go to the main office in Ames to pay off an agriculture loan after we sold off the corn crop and the spring bull calves. Darryl’s the banker we dealt with back then. He seemed like a very nice man when we met him, so Ronnie called him directly when we needed another loan to plant corn for the upcoming season. He came out to see the operation, which was when he met Kathy. They were instantly serious.”

“Does he still work for Farmers Bank & Trust? He doesn’t commute all the way to Ames, does he?”

Betty shook her head. “No. He went to work for a different organization that opened a small bank here in town. Iowa Central Savings & Loan. That’s who we’ve been dealing with since we met Darryl.”

Ronald spoke up. “He made us believe he was a decent guy, but as time went by, we saw through his bullshit. He’s workin’ for the Chicago mob as a front man, and he’s got all us farmers in Gilbert by the nutsack because we all owe him money.

“Darryl offered to buy the farm from me a few years ago, and I laughed at him. I thought he was jokin’. ‘What the hell are you gonna do with a dairy operation?’ I asked him. He told me I’d be surprised, but he didn’t go into detail. Like I told you, he said he’d just wait until I defaulted and take it then.”

Darryl hadn’t struck me as the farmer type either. There had to be another reason mobsters wanted the farm, right?

“Does Kathy know this?” I couldn’t believe she’d stay with a man who threatened to put her own father and mother out of business. What kind of person was she?

As if he’d heard me, Ronald answered my unasked question. “She’s just as greedy as him now.”

The lines on his face were deeper than when I’d first seen him. Ronald was worried more than he was admitting to Betty. I could see it when he stared into my eyes. I wasn’t sure what he was waiting for me to say or if I’d already said something I shouldn’t. My mind swirled with questions.

“What are you doing here?”

I was standing in the barn where the cows were milked, trying to make sense of how things worked around the place. It felt familiar to me, though I couldn’t guess why. I didn’t seem like the farmer type either.

I turned to see who owned the voice and met the smiling face of my brother, Keith. He wore rubber boots and a thick waxed apron over his flannel shirt and jeans. “What’s up? You don’t usually help with the milking.”

That was a relief. I knew fuck-all about how to milk cows. At least I wouldn’t have to fake a headache to get out of it.

“Do you come over every night?” I had no idea where he and his family lived, but it had to be close if he helped them milk the cows every night.

“I milk with Dad at night so Mom can make dinner. Naomi isn’t really a good cook, so if I help Dad, Mom makes enough dinner for me to take home. Rachel said you were all for her going to California without me. What the hell, dude?”

He seemed upset with me, but I guessed opening my mouth and taking a side was a bad idea. Such an intelligent and mature young woman deserved to make her own life wherever she chose. I had the feeling Rachel could handle it.

“I’m sorry, Keith, but she’s not a child. She’s graduated from college, and she wants to find a job. She doesn’t want to work in a factory, even if it’s in a training capacity.” I sounded like a snob, but I couldn’t blame her. Apparently, I was a college professor, so I had left the nest at some point and made a life outside the small town of Gilbert, Iowa.

“Keirnan, did you completely forget the story I told you about her birth father? The fucker is crazy and used to beat Naomi and Rachel before they got away from him. Last we knew, he was somewhere in California. I absolutely won’t take that chance with her safety that he would find her when she was alone and vulnerable. I’m surprised you’d encourage her.”

“Is he still a threat?”

Keith released an exasperated sigh. “Naomi had to get a restraining order against him, and then Rachel and she disappeared while Green was deployed. After she had divorce papers served, he became violent and started stalking her. She and Rachel snuck away in the middle of the night and hid from him. That was how they ended up moving here.”

Hearing his explanation bothered me. Nobody should go through what he was describing, but something about the story sounded off, though I couldn’t guess what.

“Did he not provide for Rachel after they divorced?” Even if they were no longer together, he still owed his child some financial support.

“Naomi received child support through the Army for a while. Green was stationed overseas, and she and Rachel had moved away from Fort Riley but still lived in Kansas. Green tracked her through the payroll office, and when he found them, he slapped Naomi around. She filed for a restraining order when she lived in Topeka.

“Once the divorce was finalized, she moved away so he couldn’t find her and ended up here in Gilbert. She got a job in human resources at the factory, and that’s how I met her. She stopped asking for child support because she’d have had to disclose where she lived and negotiate visitation. She decided it just wasn’t worth it.”

Keith filled a bucket with grain and walked up a ramp to an elevated concrete platform where the six milking machines were located, filling a small trough at each spot. It seemed logical that one would feed the cows while taking their milk. Sort of a tradeoff, I presumed.

“Well, I still think you should give it some thought. Why don’t you contact the Army and see if you can check his whereabouts? Maybe he’s dead?”

I stopped in my tracks. The story sounded too familiar for me to disregard it. The Army connection seemed to resonate, and a dead soldier’s face popped into my head. I didn’t know him, but he was wearing a uniform, and then suddenly, he was an old man. What the fuck did that mean?

I was rattled, so I decided to change the subject. “Can I ask you a question?”

Keith walked down the ramp and over to me. “Your old boots are in the closet. If you help me, Dad can get inside early. All you gotta do is let the cows inside. I’ll do the rest. You won’t have to get those dainty hands dirty.” His smirk made me laugh. He wasn’t a bad guy.

I went to the closet where he’d pointed and found an apron and a pair of boots. Ronald came into the barn and stared at me while I changed out of my running shoes and stowed them in the closet.

“What are you doing down here?” Ronald opened a sliding door to reveal a bunch of black-and-white cows with heavy udders waiting patiently.

Keith stepped over to me and put his hand on my shoulder. “Dad, Keirnan’s going to help tonight. He’ll man the gate, and I’ll do the rest. Why don’t you go inside and relax?”

It was cold as fuck down there, but the smile on Ronald’s face was worth it. “Really?”

“Yeah, of course, I’ll help. You go inside and kick back. Just tell me what to do.”

Ronald laughed as he removed his insulated jacket and handed it to me. “Wear this. Let six in at a time after Keith lets the previous six out at the other end. Close the door and let the girls walk up the ramp. They know the drill.”

I nodded and slid my arms into the sleeves, pulling the warm jacket around me. “Thanks, Dad.”

It felt wrong to address Ronald as my father, but for now, I’d let it go. I had no idea why. So many things I couldn’t reconcile were pinging in my brain. I felt as if I were becoming unglued at the seams.

“I’m ready.” Keith walked over to me and patted my back before he shoved me out of the way with a chuckle. He opened the gate and clicked his tongue at the cows, who followed him like the pied piper up the ramp and into their slots. Obviously, it wasn’t any of their first times.

“Can I close the gate?” The next set of cows stood patiently, so it wasn’t as though they were rushing me.

I reached out and touched the head of the closest one, and she actually rubbed against my hand. It wasn’t as scary as I thought it would be.

“You don’t have to. The ladies have good manners and will wait their turn. Come over here and talk to me. We never talk anymore, little brother.”

I slowly walked around the milking stations and watched as Keith attached silver cups to the cows’ teats. It wasn’t a job I wanted to learn.

“Why do you think Darryl wants to buy the farm?” The question came at me out of thin air.

Keith laughed as he moved down the line and cleaned the cows’ bags before sliding the milking tentacles onto the teats. “Pot.”

“Like marijuana?”

“Yeah. They grow it between the rows of corn so the DEA can’t see it when they fly over. I’ve heard a few farmers nearby sold their fields when the market took a downturn. They’re letting their corn go to seed in the fields because it hides the pot plants. At the end of the season, they plow it under, and someone gives them more money to replant the crop for the next year.”

That was interesting. They were letting their corn go to waste and plowing it under? As I thought about it, pot probably brought in more money than corn.

Keith hooked up the last cow in that group, stepped to the front of the chute, and pressed a button. The machines began their milking routine, and the bovines ate the grain in the troughs as though it was no big deal.

Soft music played over expensive speakers, and Keith went to a refrigerator in the corner of the large room, returning with two beers. He popped them open and handed one to me with a grin.

“I wish we could have done this more when we were younger, but you had your own things to do, and I wanted to stay here in Gilbert. I don’t blame you for leaving. You were always too damn smart for us, but I won’t lie and say I didn’t miss you.”

If I wasn’t mistaken, Keith reached up and wiped the corner of his right eye, which touched my heart. I shouldn’t be hearing this confession. It should be saved for his brother—his real brother.

I had to figure out how to get back to my life and return this one to Keirnan. Where was he, and what was he going through if he was living my life?