60. Chapter 60
It was funny how fast a letter could save a life—or four—and turn an angry mob into loyal friends, which was exactly what happened after Billy McClean finished her private message from Jason Young and planted a kiss square on Jase’s unsuspecting lips.
In an eruption of applause and catcalls, Billy poured shots, proclaiming, “This round’s on the Kid!”
“So you’re not going to kill us?” Graham asked. He looked as stunned as Jase felt, still too rocked by the kiss and sudden shift in atmosphere to speak.
“Oh hell no. You’re my guests!” Billy turned to what were clearly her minions and said, “Anyone lays a hand on these kids digs their own grave.”
The pitchfork must have special clout, Jase thought, his balls finally settling back in their sack.
With the round of drinks pacifying the collective bloodlust, Billy took Jase in her sinewy arms and squeezed his biceps.
“You are your father’s son,” she said. “You’ve got the same build. Little darker though. What’s your name?”
“Jase. Jason Junior.”
“Of course it is. Does that make you the sister?” She locked Lindsey in a musky embrace. “Welcome, sweetheart.”
“No, that’s Lindsey. She’s—” Jase tried saying. Billy already moved on. “My brother, Graham.”
“Half-brother?”
“No.”
“You must take after your mother. Poor thing.”
Graham frowned. “Excuse me?”
“Except the build. You boys have some muscles.” Billy gripped Graham’s shoulders then appraised Helen. “Who is this fox?”
“Helen. She’s my—” Graham stopped and asked, “What did you say about my mom?”
“Nothing she doesn’t have coming, stealing my man.”
“Did you know her?” Jase asked.
“No, thank goodness for you, or you might never’ve been born.”
Graham’s face turned an unnatural shade of red. Lindsey swallowed a shot off the bar and pinched the back of Jase’s arm as if to remind him that Billy was the only thing keeping them out of four shallow graves.
Billy slapped the bar top. “Slick, get us some drinks. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”
They sat at a large, round table and Billy queued up an Elvis song they all knew by heart.
“This was our song. I wouldn’t let anyone play it for years,” Billy said, joining them with a tray of drinks and shots.
She stared into a private memory with a dreamy smile and slid a worn picture to the center of the table.
Looking up was a very young Jason Young on a motorcycle and a gorgeous, blue-eyed blonde snaked around him, biting his ear.
“Look at us. There was nothing we couldn’t do.” Billy downed a shot. “I can’t believe he’s gone. He was as wild as they came. I don’t have to tell you.” Billy grinned at Jase as if they shared a secret.
“So, what happened?” Lindsey asked.
“Their slut mother.”
Graham nearly spat out a mouthful of beer.
“He left one day. Said he’d be back—for good this time.
I helped my dad run the bar and waited. Then weeks turned into months…
I was a fool for that man. I heard later he was shacked up with some waitress, and I swore if he ever walked back into my bar, I’d kill him with my bare hands.
” She lifted a bony shoulder, rattling the silver chains around her neck.
“He probably could’ve talked me out of it though.
Hell, he talked me out of my pants plenty of times.
” With a hoarse laugh, Billy raised her bottle. “I got you guys instead. Go figure.”
After they clinked bottlenecks over the picture that was another window into their father’s past, Billy hollered, “Slick, set us up again.”
The bartender, the Devil only up to its waist, brought more drinks and shots whether they needed a refill or not.
Turning a fresh shot in circles on the table with two ringed fingers, Billy asked, “How’d he die?”
“Cancer,” Jase said.
“Cancer killed the Kid? I always figured he’d wrap his bike around a tree or something.”
“No, he didn’t ride anymore,” Jase said.
“Now that I don’t believe.”
“It’s true. He stopped after our mom died.”
“She’s dead? How long?”
“Thirty years.”
Billy lowered her eyes to the table. “She’s been gone three decades, and he never came back for me.”
As Elvis played on the jukebox, Jase said quickly, “He never remarried.”
“He must’ve really loved the hussy then.”
Lindsey coughed to cover a laugh and Jase dug his elbow into her arm.
“So, what’s your story?” Billy asked. “He sent you all the way out here just to give me a letter?”
“Not exactly,” Jase said.
“Spreading his ashes?”
“He was buried beside my mother,” Graham said, and the woman’s lip curled in a snarl.
“Dad sent us on this trip as his last wish,” Jase said, glaring at his brother for twisting the knife in Billy’s chest. “One of the stops was here. He must’ve wanted you to know what happened to him.”
“He still knows how to write a letter.”