Chapter 19
NOVA
“How are you?” I asked Dad.
His eyes dropped to his orange jumpsuit. “Fine.”
Not fine.
I opened my briefcase, taking out the set of dummy papers I’d prepared last night before driving here this morning. Mom’s latest letter was on page three.
My boss hadn’t said a word about my last-minute request to take today off of work, other than an immediate approval.
Probably because I’d worked nonstop over the past week, only stopping to sleep for a few hours before I’d wake, think of Emmett and dive back into work—in an effort to distract myself from thinking of Emmett.
So far those efforts had been in vain. Emmett was constantly on my mind.
I’d waited the entire week to see what he’d do. To see if he’d retaliate.
He’d taken that piece of mail, and by now, he had to know who I really was. Maybe not that my father was Tucker Talbot, very few people in the world knew that, but Emmett would know my name wasn’t Nova.
He’d know I’d lied.
Beyond that . . . it was a guess. I wouldn’t put it past him to know about TJ.
For a week I’d waited for him to make his move, wondering if he’d contact me. If he’d come after me. If he’d show up at my condo and kill me. I didn’t actually think he’d kill me, but Dad had promised the Tin Kings were murderers, so it wasn’t completely out of the question.
But there had been no sign of Emmett and I couldn’t tell if that was good or bad. Sitting idle, waiting for the other shoe to drop, had finally driven me insane.
Hence my visit to the prison today.
I needed to see Dad’s face. I needed to hear his voice. I needed answers.
I needed to know who to believe.
Dad looked at the papers, his voice barely above a whisper. “What have you found?”
“Nothing,” I answered. It was the truth. Because even though I had the flash drive, I still hadn’t been able to open it. I hadn’t had the courage to see what was there.
“Did my guy get ahold of you?”
Hacker. “Yes.”
“And?” There was something in his tone. Expectation. He’d asked for results and I hadn’t delivered, so he was growing impatient.
“Tell me about Stone.”
His lashes lifted. “I already told you.”
“Tell me again.” I leveled my gaze to his and for the first time, I sent my father a look that wasn’t adoring or affectionate.
He didn’t like it. His jaw clenched.
Could he see how my insides were churning? Did he realize that my patience was gone? Maybe the irritation on his face was because I’d given him an order and no one ordered Tucker Talbot around.
Deal with it, Dad. I arched my eyebrows, waiting.
“Why?” He narrowed his eyes.
“Because I’m asking you to tell me.”
“What’s going on, Nova?”
“You’ll just have to trust me that the reason I’m asking is important.” The truth was important.
He pursed his lips and shifted, the movement to conceal a quick glance at the guarded door. “He killed your brother.”
“At a fight.”
Dad nodded once. “At a fight. The Tin Kings cheated. Those fuckers rigged the fight. Rigged the bets. When TJ called them on it, Stone shot him.”
“Were you there?”
He shook his head.
So he didn’t know exactly what had happened. Maybe he’d gotten it wrong.
“And Stone?” I asked. “What did you do?”
“I did what I had to do.”
“I want specifics.”
He shook his head but I wasn’t wavering. He was in prison for three consecutive life sentences without the chance of parole. Sure, the FBI might be recording this conversation illegally, but it wasn’t like a fourth life sentence would change anything.
Dad would die in this building.
And I wanted the truth.
“Nova,” he warned.
“Tell me.”
“I sent some men to Clifton Forge. Tracked Stone down at a bar.” The Betsy. “They waited until he got up to take a piss and hauled him out the back door. Put a bullet between his eyes. For TJ.”
“You did it. You pulled the trigger.”
Dad didn’t answer and the look on his face said he wasn’t going to. I guess in the end, it didn’t matter. That was the story Emmett had told me too.
No matter the voice speaking, it wasn’t easy to hear. All I could see was the photo of Stone in Emmett’s house. The one in the living room. His bald head. His long, braided beard. His large frame with an arm tossed around his son’s shoulders. And a smile that was the same as Emmett’s.
Stone had looked more like a Willie Nelson groupie than a kid killer.
So Dad’s story matched Emmett’s, and vice versa. Regardless, this was a sick cycle. Death and revenge and damn it, I was done. I was so fucking done.
This war of theirs would kill us all.
And silly me, I’d waltzed right into the middle.
Except it wasn’t really a war, was it? Because the Tin Kings weren’t fighting. They hadn’t landed my father in this place. No, he’d done it himself. I’d known that fact all along, but I’d ignored it. Why?
I stared at Dad, his expression unreadable.
Did he love me? For so long, that was all I’d wanted. His love. But now . . . maybe Shelby was right. Maybe Dad was manipulating me for his own gain. Maybe the only thing Dad had ever loved was his club.
“Nova.” His eyes softened because mine were on the verge of tears. “Whatever they told you is a lie. Trust me.”
I nodded. “Of course.”
“Good. I’m counting on you to finish this. For TJ.”
For TJ? Or for him and his men? “I’d better go.”
I waited, giving Dad a moment to flip to Mom’s letter and read it.
Then I pulled the papers away and returned them to my briefcase.
The wig on my head was beginning to itch.
The glasses on my nose pinched the bridge.
The air in here was stifling, not because it was too warm, but because for every moment I lingered, my emotions choked me that much more.
Without another word, I walked to the door and knocked for the guard. He immediately opened, shot Dad a wary look, then escorted me to check out.
Pretending to be Nancy made my head spin. My heart ached as I went through the motions. I was being torn in two directions and whichever side I chose meant abandoning the other.
How many years had I wanted a relationship with Dad? Now I had the chance for one. Was there really another side to choose? For Dad, I’d lose Emmett. But I’d lost him on Saturday, hadn’t I?
By the time I was led to the exit, I was numb. The exhaustion of not sleeping for a week had caught up with me. Without Emmett’s arms to hold me, I tossed and turned. Without his warmth, even a pile of blankets couldn’t keep the cold at bay.
My steps were so heavy through the prison’s parking lot that my heels skidded rather than clicked on the asphalt.
I was sluggish as I drove away from the prison and to my regular turnout spot.
The second the Nova was parked, I tugged the wig from my head and the glasses from my face, stuffing them both in the briefcase.
My blazer was suffocating so I stripped it off and tossed it into the backseat.
What am I doing? How do I fix this?
Visiting Dad should have made me feel better. I’d expected to feel better. Instead, my skin crawled, and my stomach twisted.
Dad’s words ran on repeat.
Whatever they told you is a lie. Trust me.
Emmett had never told me to trust him. He hadn’t needed to. Because he’d simply given me his own trust, expecting to earn mine in return through honesty. When people told the truth, they didn’t need to order you to trust them.
How many times in my life had Dad said those words? Trust me.
A hundred. A thousand. I’d put my faith in my father, like my mother. Like my brother. And look where they were now. One would spend the rest of her life pining for a man she’d likely never see again. And the other was dead.
Trust me.
Trust was a dangerous concept.
Home was miles away, but I’d be there by dinner. Maybe if I drank a bottle of wine and ate an entire pizza, I’d be drunk and full enough to sleep through the night.
But as I put the Nova in drive and headed down the road, I didn’t turn toward Missoula. Instead, I drove to Clifton Forge.
I wasn’t even sure why. Just that I needed . . . more.
It was almost dark by the time I arrived. The sun was diving behind the mountains and the faint glow from the horizon cast the town in shades of black and gray.
There was a chance Emmett was home, but it was a Friday night and before I drove all the way to his place, I figured I’d stop at The Betsy in case he’d come down after work. The stop paid off.
The orange and blue neon lights from the bar gleamed on the chrome of Emmett’s motorcycle beside the door. I parked but didn’t go inside. I waited, gathering the last of my strength. And then a calm washed over me.
On Saturday, after Emmett had walked out of my condo, I’d been upset and angry and hurt. Deep down, I’d known it hadn’t been the end. But tonight was.
Tonight, this would finish.
I was ready for this to end.
Maybe I’d get the truth. Maybe I already had. But I wanted to know what had happened to my brother and for that, I needed the other side of the story. Emmett’s side.
Country music greeted me when I pushed the car door open. A man in jeans and a flannel button-down was walking inside, the two of us converging at the entrance.
“Hey.” He dipped his head as he opened the door for me. “How’s it going?”
“Fine.” I didn’t so much as spare him a glance, though I felt his eyes track down my charcoal satin blouse and black fitted slacks.
“Are you meeting someone tonight? I’d love to buy you a dr—”
“Not interested.”
There was only one man I’d be talking to tonight.
Once inside, I turned toward the pool tables. A group of men clustered around the rack of cues, each with a beer bottle in hand. But no Emmett. I took one step toward the bar, intending to find a seat, but froze when a pair of chocolate brown eyes snared mine.
Emmett sat on a stool at the bar.
And he was not alone.
A brunette was standing in between his open legs, his knees bracketing her hips. She wore a pair of jeans that fit her curves like a second skin. Her slinky tank top hugged her chest. Her hands were on his arms, roaming over his tattoos.
Those were my arms to touch. Those were my tattoos to explore.
He stared at me from over her shoulder, the woman short enough that even seated, he was taller.
She leaned in to whisper something in his ear.
He must have grunted a response because his chest rose and fell, then he lifted one of those hands and a beer bottle to his lips.
That had better be the only goddamn thing his lips touched tonight.
I had no claim on him. Not after what I’d done. But the surge of bitter envy through my veins was enough that I had to force myself to keep still. Otherwise, I’d walk over and rip that brunette’s hair out from the roots.
If he’d fucked another woman . . .
My stomach churned. There was pain and then there was this, watching him watch me as another woman looped her arms around his neck.
He kept his eyes pinned to mine as she rose on her toes and brought her lips toward his ear.
For a moment, I was sure he’d turn and kiss her. That he’d let her take his lips while I watched.
I didn’t look away.
This was my fault, not his, and I would bear the consequences.
I held my breath, my hands trembling at my sides, as she pressed her body to his. Did he like the feel of her breasts on his chest? Did he like the scent of her perfume and the caress of her hands?
Oh, God. I was going to be sick.
I swallowed hard, a split second away from running out of the bar, when Emmett stood so abruptly that it forced the brunette away.
She stumbled and would have fallen if not for his quick grip, catching her by the elbow to right her on her feet. She stared up at him, shock etched on her pretty face.
He didn’t give her an explanation. He simply walked past her and stalked my way.
I held my ground, my eyes never wavering from his. To keep them, I had to tilt my chin up the closer he came. Then he was towering above me. His scent filled my nose and I drew in a long breath, having missed it this past week.
“You let her touch you,” I blurted. Nice, Nova. Maybe I should have led with something else.
His nostrils flared. “Who I fuck is none of your business. Not anymore.”
“Did you?”
“Did I what?”
I gulped, hating myself for what I was about to ask, but I had to know. “Did you fuck her? Or anyone?”
He stared at me, his eyes so full of fury it was like seeing a different person. But he must have heard the desperation, the anguish in my voice, because he gave me a clipped, “No.”
The air rushed from my lungs. “Ace.”
“Emmett.”
“Emmett,” I whispered.
“What do you want, June?”
June.
Whatever composure I’d had shattered. He knew, of course he knew. I’d known for a week that he knew my real name. But I didn’t want to be June, especially not with Emmett.
“It is June, right?” He leaned in closer.
“Yes.”
He stood straight and crossed his arms over his chest. “What are you doing here?”
“I want the truth.”
He scoffed. “I’m not the liar here. Nova.”
My shoulders sagged. “I . . . I’m—”
“Sorry? Yeah. I heard you last weekend.” He shook his head, then pushed past me, walking for the door.
He left me behind. Again.
I sucked in one breath and when I looked up, the brunette was glaring at me from where Emmett had left her standing.
Could she make him happy? Could he love her? Could she give him a future? She was real. She didn’t need to lie about her name or her family. Her biggest indiscretion was probably shoplifting lip gloss in high school.
She was everything I wasn’t.
My father had probably murdered Emmett’s father. His father had definitely murdered my brother.
There was no sick world where this would ever work between us. There was no redemption here, not for me, a woman who’d deceived him about everything for months.
Still, I clung to the hope that maybe . . .
There was no maybe. When was I going to get that into my head?
Going home was the answer. Starting my life over was the next plan. My father would eventually work out his revenge on the Tin Kings, and they might deserve it.
But they might not.
And I had to know.
I unglued my feet and tore my eyes away from the brunette, turning and walking outside. I expected to see an empty space where Emmett’s bike had been. I expected to drive to his house and pound on the door for hours until he let me in.
Instead, there he was, astride his Harley. Waiting.
He’d pulled on a jacket, the leather fitted to his bulky arms. Emmett jerked his chin, started his engine and roared out of the parking lot.
Much like our first night together, I climbed in my car.
And followed him home.