Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

RYAN

Frankie rapped her knuckles on Ryan’s open door and he sat back in his chair and smiled at her. She didn’t look happy, and the last time that had happened was when their last rookie had broken the photocopier.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, as his smiled dropped.

“Just had young Nate from Crooked Tree on the phone, seems like there’s a strange car abandoned at the edge of the road into the ranch.”

Ryan immediately stood. Why was Frankie standing there like this wasn’t hugely important? After what had happened the last time, an abandoned car needed handling with way more urgency. “I’m on it.”

“You don’t need to rush.” She looked at her nails. “Seems the driver was taking a rather circuitous walk to the filming area and Adam may have hit him.”

“Hit him how?”

Frankie made a fist and bopped herself on the nose. “Like that.”

“I’m going. Tell them I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“I already did. The man, and Adam and Nate, and probably all those hot cowboy types are at the restaurant there. Yum, so sexy.”

A grandmother. And she was sashaying out of his room on the word sexy . Ryan was somewhat used to her behavior by now… as long as he didn’t think about it too much.

He didn’t break any speed records to get to Crooked Tree, but he certainly didn’t hang around. Nate met him in the parking lot, his face grim.

Ryan nodded in greeting. “So, who is it?”

“The guy won’t give us his name, and Adam has moved on to intimidation. You need to settle him down.”

Ryan jogged alongside Nate and burst into Branches.

Jay was there, and Adam with his arms folded, in a pose that attempted to exude threat but actually came over as scared. He had blood on his cheek, and he was stiff with tension.

And the man Adam had allegedly hit? He was in a chair, held in place with rope of some sort, and he was bleeding.

“Thank God!” the man began, his eyes widening as Ryan burst in, and his features morphing from scared to smug. “You need to arrest this man.” He attempted to indicate Adam, but with his hands secured to the chair, it ended up being more of a waggle of his fingers. “He hit me.”

“Untie him,” Ryan said. Whatever had happened he wasn’t talking to the guy while he was tied up.

“He’s not armed,” Adam said as he slipped the knot and released the stranger.

All Ryan could think was Jeez, Adam’s not only hit the guy, but he’s frisked him as well? The day was going from bad to worse. Adam had been on the edge since he’d come home, and he was maybe worse since Justin left. Hell, it was as if he was channeling Justin.

The man held out a hand and introduced himself. “Thomas Ivory.”

Ryan shook his hand, because he couldn’t not do that; he was the law, after all, and trying to be impartial. But something about that name was ringing all kinds of bells.

“Can you tell me what happened here?”

“He was trespassing, with a camera, by the filming,” Adam snapped.

Ryan held up a hand to stop him. “You should go outside,” he said and then escorted Adam out of the door. “Leave it for now. And call Jordan and tell him a Thomas Ivory is here.”

Adam nodded, already moving toward the office for the radio to contact the set. Ryan sighed deeply. He’d placed the name, and the man in there was the journalist Jordan had warned him about, the one writing the book about the Darby family. But he was also a citizen, and Ryan needed to handle this the right way. Plus, he wasn’t sure Adam would be up to appearing in court against Ivory.

Fuck.

After pasting on his official expression, he went back into the restaurant.

“Sir, please explain to me what happened here.”

Thomas flicked at his jacket as if he was removing dirt, then pressed a napkin from the closest table to his nose, checking for blood when he pulled it away. Ryan didn’t mention all the blood down his white T-shirt.

“I’m lucky he didn’t break my nose,” Ivory said, a little nasally.

Ryan ignored him for the moment; he needed to get to the bottom of this, but he also wanted to wait for Jordan to get here. “Start from the beginning.”

“I was birdwatching,” Ivory began. “I parked my car on the road and went into the woods, saw a horse, and approached the rider who was on a trail there.”

“The man you say hit you.”

“That man, yes. He hit me.”

“He hit you. Why would he do that?”

Ivory looked down and away. “I have no idea.”

He was lying, obviously. “So, you’re alleging that your assailant randomly hit you for no reason while you were birdwatching?”

Ivory bristled. “He believed I was trespassing. He threatened me, even when I explained I was taking photos and I was sorry for straying onto private land. So I defended myself.”

“You hit him?”

Ivory narrowed his eyes. “As I said, I was defending myself.”

There was calculation in his brown eyes, as though he’d been in this situation before and knew how to get out of it.

“I won’t press charges.” Ivory did that whole brushing-at-his-jacket thing and straightened it. “We’ll just let this go.”

“I need to see some ID and your camera,” Ryan said, playing the hunch that could solve this.

The ID was easily handed over, but Ivory seemed less than happy to give up his camera. “There’s nothing on there that you need to see,” he said.

“No problem,” Ryan said and watched him relax. “I’ll escort you and the man you are accusing to the sheriff’s office, and we can discuss the situation there.”

Two could play at this game of bluffing. If Ryan was right—and he had a feeling he was—then there was no way Ivory would push this as far as actually following through on the report.

“I said to this man that there was no need to worry the sheriff,” Ivory hedged.

“Nate? You want to give me your side of this?”

“Adam radioed in, said he had a trespasser and needed assistance because the man was hostile.” Ryan nodded in encouragement. “I took the quad up there and found this man on the ground, with Adam sitting on his chest. I noticed the blood on his face and also on Adam’s. He was violent once Adam released him, so we called you.”

“Violent?”

“Started shouting about his rights and so on.” Nate crossed his arms over his chest and quirked an eyebrow. “Thought you should get involved.”

The door flew open and Jordan arrived in a flurry of cold air and temper. “Adam said you needed me.” He stopped in front of Ryan and looked him right in the eyes. “What happened?”

Ryan simply gestured to where Ivory stood; he catalogued the expression on Jordan’s face. Shock, horror, anger, and then absolute ice.

“You know this man?” Ryan asked Ivory directly.

“No. Yes—no,” Ivory hedged.

“Which is it?” Ryan pushed.

“Yes. He’s an actor,” he admitted.

Jordan stepped a little closer, but Ryan put a hand on his arm to stop him.

“And one with a restraining order against you,” Jordan said.

Ivory deflated, and Ryan went into sheriff mode.

By the time Ivory left the property, his camera had been wiped.

He had a parting word for Jordan, though, and it was as if he forgot Ryan was right there. “I saw the photo. I know what you are, and I know you’re your father’s son. Believe me, we all know how your dad really died.”

Jordan didn’t move or react until Ivory left; Ryan and he watched him go, walking through the parking lot to the road and his car, without a backward glance.

Then Ryan turned to his lover, wanting to grab him and hold him close, seeing the desolation on his face. “Jordan?”

“Thank you,” Jordan murmured.

“What is he trying to create about your dad?”

Jordan pushed his hands in his pockets and hunched into his coat. “That dad was a depraved predator in a climate where sex was handed out at parties like favors. That there was something in the way he died, drugs, AIDs, you name it, he’s mentioned it.”

Ryan reached out and placed his hands on Jordan’s arms. “He had cancer. That is all people need to know.” He didn’t care if it was true or not. Jordan’s father had died, as many young men in the industry had at that time. It was a lifetime of yesterdays, and nothing would be served by hashing things out now.

“I don’t even know why we don’t just send the medical records out. Dad had cancer, but he did sleep around a lot, cheated on my mom. You add in the gay son and suddenly there’s no level people like Thomas Ivory won’t go to,” Jordan said quietly. “Micah and I don’t care, we’d release the records tomorrow, but Mom, she doesn’t feel we need to prove anything to anyone. She says—and she’s probably right—that it would look like we had something to prove, and we don’t. Dad was Dad, and that was it.”

“Jordan—”

“I’m tired of it. All of it. Keeping secrets, hiding myself.”

Ryan tightened his grip and desperately wanted to haul Jordan in for a kiss, but they were in the open, and he was in uniform, and hell, that could just muddy the waters after what had just happened. “I’ll be here if you ever need me. You know that, right?”

Jordan looked right at him, a smile on his lips. “That’s what makes me think I can be different,” he said. “You make me feel stronger and more certain.”

Ryan didn’t move for the longest time. Seeing the ugliness that was an integral part of Jordan’s world made him feel on edge and unbalanced.

He wanted to be the strong one; wanted to be there for Jordan. Jordan just had to let him know he needed him, and Ryan would be all over that immediately.

“I need to focus on the next scenes. Listen, do you want to stay to watch the fight scene being filmed?” Jordan asked.

Ryan checked his watch. Midday had rolled on to 1:00 p.m., and he was officially off the clock. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

He watched in awe the mechanics of setting up what would be no more than a minute on film. Jordan was in his character’s clothes, but under the loose shirt, he wore a cut-off wetsuit. The water was churning today, some of the snow melt increasing the volume, and Ryan didn’t want his lover in there.

Hell, his first instinct was to demand they cut the scene from the film.

The safety measures included a lifeguard in a full wetsuit, with ropes and pulleys forming a net the other side of the bridge, well out of sight. Ryan guessed it was in case one of the actors floated off down the river. That freaked him out enough that he went back to his car, removed his watch, weapon and his phone from his body, and secured them away in his weapons locker. Just in case there was trouble. Because sue him, he would be the first one in the freaking water.

There was a foam barrier tied down to change the flow of the water a little, taking the pressure off. The actors involved, Jordan, and a man in a cop’s uniform were listening avidly to a woman Ryan guessed was the stunt coordinator.

“He’ll be okay,” Micah said from his side, startling Ryan and making him realize just how involved he was in worrying about Jordan.

There was a paramedic on standby—not Aaron, but someone assigned to the movie. Ryan wished Aaron was here because he was a very strong swimmer.

“Why isn’t Jordan wearing the full wetsuit?” he asked Micah under his breath.

Micah looked at him like it was obvious. “Because his shirt in this scene is low-cut.”

“Then he should be wearing a turtleneck sweater. And a beanie.”

Micah huffed a laugh. “That won’t work. We need the cop to fight Jordan’s character, and for Emma’s double to fall in the water trying to save him.” Micah waved at a woman, who from the back looked a lot like the ten-year-old playing Emma, but from the front was a short, forty-year-old woman.

“They won’t let Emma in the water, right?”

“Nope, it’s all stunt work and the magic of the movies.” Micah gestured at the water. “And we’ll take breaks.”

“This is crazy, stupid, and dangerous,” Ryan muttered. “And I don’t like it.”

Micah elbowed him. “This is the only way for Jordan to get the effect he wants. It’s a pivotal scene in the film, where Jordan’s character becomes the hero of the story instead of a protagonist.”

“He’s a crazy fucker,” the lifeguard said from Ryan’s other side.

And that didn’t bode well at all.

Ryan bit back his instant need to call a halt to the proceedings citing some long-forgotten code of policing. This was Jordan’s job, and he needed to respect the man for putting himself through such a horrible experience while taking every possible precaution.

“Why doesn’t Jordan have a body double?” he asked.

“Too many close-ups,” Micah said.

The first scene was set, the two characters brawling on the side of the bank. From this angle it looked like the punches were actual hits, but as the fight moved, they were obviously choreographed near hits. Didn’t make Ryan wince any less, though.

That scene took five takes, and then it was the water.

“Action!” Micah called.

The fight moved to the water, and with how well Ryan knew Jordan’s facial expression, he could tell the fear was real. And the cold? Jesus, it must be freezing. Angie stood ready with space blankets, and everyone hoped this would be one take.

It was. Whoever had choreographed the fight had done their job, the body double for Emma was perfect, and suddenly Jordan and the cop were working together to rescue her. Once they grabbed her, all three climbed onto the bank, with Jordan falling to his knees and the cop slumping on the ground. They delivered some dialogue that Ryan couldn’t hear from where he was, and then Micah yelled “Cut!”

The flurry of movement was impressive. Space blankets, heaters, people helped to a tent to strip and warm up.

“That’s our boy,” Micah said proudly.

All Ryan could think was one thing: No, that’s my man.