Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Lynx
“Everything cool?” Wolfe asked when I started for my truck.
“Yep,” I answered, trying to keep my voice from reflecting the hurt currently swarming me. “Just dropped off those chairs. Headin’ home. What’re y’all up to? Besides, you know, shackin’ up together.”
Wolfe’s smile was so fucking bright I almost had to look away.
I liked seeing my cousin happy. Not that he wasn’t usually, but there was definitely something different about Wolfe these days.
The guy seemed to be walking around on a fucking cloud, despite the danger we all knew to be lurking nearby.
“Rhys gonna be packin’ his shit up, too?” I asked when Wolfe didn’t respond.
“We’re workin’ it out.”
“Right. So that’s a yes.”
“It’s a … yeah. He’s got a lotta shit goin’ on right now. He’s tryin’ to stay focused, but that’s where I want him.”
I chuckled. “I get it. Hard to focus when he’s spendin’ all his time naked, huh?”
“Shut it.”
“Well, I gotta run,” I told him. “Gotta go get Cope. He’s prob’ly goin’ crazy right about now.”
Wolfe nodded toward the house. “And I need to get inside, see if I can help with somethin’.”
“You do that.” I stopped. “Oh, and while you’re in there, check out the water heater. Reagan said it’s actin’ up.”
“Uh … yeah. Okay.”
“Check ya later, hoss.” I offered a half-ass wave, then hopped in my truck without looking back at the house.
Half an hour later, I pulled up in front of my house.
Officially it was my uncle’s place, but ever since Wolfe’s momma passed away two years ago, Calvin had moved into the apartment above the store.
Said it was easier that way. Back when Tammy and I had split, I offered to move into my uncle’s house to keep an eye on it.
Since I was already doing the upkeep on my grandparents’ old place, I'd figured it really was easier, not to mention I had needed to get as far from Tammy as possible. The woman was like a damn tick.
Thankfully, it seemed as though she’d moved on. At least since the day she’d stolen my truck, anyway.
It had only taken me wiping out half the money in my personal account for her to finally stop hounding me, but as far as I was concerned, it was worth it. The money didn’t mean shit if I had to spend the rest of my days dealing with the woman who’d personally planned to make my life a living hell.
“You live and learn, Cope,” I said to my dog when I climbed out of the truck, greeted by the three-year-old German shepherd. “Whatcha been up to, man? Chillin’? Lickin’ your balls? What?”
Copenhagen pushed his big head against my thigh, nudging me.
“All right, I get it. I won’t talk about your balls no more.”
The two of us traipsed up the stairs to the farmhouse and I found myself eyeing the porch. There were no rocking chairs on this front porch. Not yet, anyway. Maybe not ever if things didn’t work out the way I'd planned.
My mind drifted back to Reagan, to how fucking hot she’d been in my arms. And then her words had hit me like an uppercut, nearly knocking me sideways.
The woman was out of her ever-loving mind if she thought once was going to cut it.
As it was, when the time came that I got her in my bed, I might not ever let her leave.
“You hungry, boy?” I asked Copenhagen. “Come on, then. Let’s get you fed, then we’ll run over and check on the old man, see what’s up.”
After that, I would find something else to do to pass the time. It was Saturday, which meant I should’ve been planning to head over to Reagan’s for a couple of beers later in the evening.
“Not tonight,” I muttered to myself.
I couldn’t remember the last Saturday I hadn’t gone over to the bar, but after today… I figured it was time to give Reagan some of that space she’d been asking for.
If for nothing else, so I could maintain a little bit of my sanity.
Otherwise…
No. I wouldn’t even go there.
Not this time.
Patience was key to this game. I just had to remember that.
“What’s up, old man?” I called to my father when Copenhagen and I walked into the house. Although it was three in the afternoon, it was dark as hell with all the blinds closed.
“Whatcha doin’ here, kid?” Cooter called from somewhere in the house.
Copenhagen took off.
“Hey, Cope! Good to see you, boy.”
I found my father in the kitchen, a bowl of fresh tomatoes on the counter in front of him.
“That from the garden?” I asked.
“Yep.” The man looked so proud.
Cooter hadn’t left the house, aside from going out into the garden in the backyard or the occasional afternoon spent on the porch, for ten years now.
Not to the grocery store, not to get gas, not even to the doctor.
At first, it had seemed odd, but eventually it became the norm.
I picked up my dad’s groceries, I brought fuel for the mower when it was time to cut the grass around the house, and I found a doctor willing to make house calls.
Cooter wasn’t opposed to company and plenty of people stopped by. Although he had extricated himself from the world outside of his house, the people in this town hadn’t given up on him. That was part of living in a small town. Friends became family.
“Figured you’d be out gettin’ yourself in trouble,” Cooter said, a smile on his weathered face.
“Takin’ a break,” I told my father.
“For what? Five minutes?”
Smiling, I nodded. “Somethin’ like that.”
“You want some tea?”
“Naw. Gonna head over to Nana’s real quick. Check things out.”
“You seen your cousins lately?”
“Who? Travis and them?”
My father lifted one gray eyebrow, as though it was obvious who I was referring to.
“Not since the bonfire,” I told him. “Why?”
Cooter shook his head. “Talked to Iris. She mentioned Travis was helpin’ to deal with that little gal’s … situation.” His eyes narrowed. “They find that asshole yet?”
My dad was referring to the Houston police chief, the man responsible for Amy’s abuse and the death of the police detective. “Not yet.”
Not that we’d proven the man was responsible for the car accident that had killed the woman who’d come out to Embers Ridge in an effort to find Amy.
However, it seemed awfully coincidental that she had ventured this far to confirm that Amy was in fact the Jane Doe who’d been found on the side of the road a year ago, only to wind up dead shortly after finding out the truth.
“He’ll fuck up,” Cooter said, his tone confident. “And they’ll get that bastard.”
They would. Not soon enough, though. The asshole should’ve been chilling with the worms six feet under at this point.
“Need anything while I’m here? I can run into town, grab some groceries.”
“I’m good right now. Next time you’re out, maybe you could pick up some M&Ms?”
I grinned. “Sure thing, Dad.”
“Thanks.”
“Cope, you ready, boy?”
The dog’s ears perked and his tongue lolled out of my mouth as he trotted over to my side.
“Talk to ya later,” I hollered as I headed toward the door. “And I’ll grab those M&Ms when I’m up that way. Love you, old man.”
“Love you too, kid.”
Clicking my tongue twice, I directed Copenhagen to the truck.
Time to find something else to do to keep my mind occupied for a little while longer.
Kelly
I sat in the old truck I'd borrowed from a friend, watching the small bar. I'd been there for an hour and had yet to see Amy come out. I knew she was in there, knew she worked here in this shit hole every Saturday night.
And it was a shit hole. Not a place I would ever be caught dead in.
However, I wasn’t all that surprised that Amy would be there.
Every time I thought about it, I remembered the day I'd decided I could never marry that girl. She was too young, too stupid, too … weak. No wife of mine would’ve ever worked in a fucking bar.
That thought triggered memories of my first wife.
God, I'd held out so much hope for her. Unfortunately, I'd found out far too late what a fraud she was. The girl hadn’t been classy at all. She’d been …
a tramp. Whenever I had hit her, she hadn’t fought back.
After the second or third time, she had simply thrown herself at me, thinking sex would distract me.
It hadn’t worked.
We’d only been married nine months when I finally got tired of it. And I'd set it up perfectly. She’d drowned in the bathtub and no one had even suspected that I'd held her head under the water and watched as the life drained from her body.
Of course, my second wife had been wild and crazy, hot for me in ways I hadn’t expected.
Our sex life had been intense. She’d thought my dominance was sexy, even turned it around so that she was playing the role of my submissive.
Granted, I hadn’t been into the real D/s relationships.
There were too many rules involved in that shit for my liking.
I'd thought things were going to work there for a little while. I had enjoyed our games, the fact that she seemed to like when I hit her. Then the stupid bitch went and got pregnant. She had forced my hand at that point. I wasn’t about to raise a child with that woman.
Or any woman, in fact. I'd had to work that one from a different angle. A few strategically timed conversations about her being depressed had worked like a charm. So, when she’d taken too many pills, no one had suspected me then, either.
Amy, on the other hand, was proving to be my biggest challenge yet.
Out of the three of them, I'd thought she would be the easiest to break. When I first set my sights on her, she’d been vulnerable, moldable.
Even better, she’d had no one, and at nineteen, she’d still been rebellious against her aunt and uncle.
Taking them out had been simple, and it had allowed me to take possession of Amy.