Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Reagan
Knowing I couldn’t put it off indefinitely, I made a pit stop on my way home.
Dropping by to check in with my mother was not something I looked forward to, even if deep down I wished it could be different between us.
I couldn’t remember a time when there wasn’t tension between my mother and me.
Even as a teenager—especially as a teenager—I'd butted heads with her more often than not.
Then, when I started dating Billy, my mother hadn’t been impressed. However, I'd learned to deal with it as time went by, until one day, she started backing Billy more than me. I wasn’t sure how that had happened, or why. And I damn sure wasn’t going to think about it now.
“Whose truck is that?” my grandfather bellowed through the open window when I stepped onto the front porch.
I sighed, opening the screen door and moving into the dimly lit living room. My grandfather was sitting in his usual spot, a cigarette dangling from his fingers.
“A friend’s,” I told him.
“What friend?”
Telling him the truth would likely only make things worse, but I didn’t want to get caught up in a lie. So, I took a deep breath and prepared for the worst.
Before I could get the words out, my mother came storming out of the kitchen, her eyes wide.
“Reagan Marie,” she said in a huff. “Why didn’t you come by last night?”
I didn’t have time to answer before my mother threw her arms around me and hugged me tightly.
“I was so worried.”
“I’m fine, Mom,” I assured her.
“But your bar blew up. With you in it.” She sounded hysterical.
“I know. But no one was hurt.” Not really, anyway.
“Where’d you go last night?” my grandfather asked.
Once again, I found myself tight-lipped.
“Whose truck is that?” my mother asked, peering over my shoulder through the screen door.
“Lynx Caine’s,” I blurted, preparing for the worst.
“Why are you drivin’ his truck?”
“Mine was damaged in the fire.”
“Christ Almighty,” my mother said dramatically.
“I hope you’re not mixin’ it up with that Caine boy,” Vic insisted. “He’s bad news.”
“Where’s Billy?” my mother asked, talking over my grandfather. “What does he think about this?”
“About what?” I frowned, trying to read between the lines.
“About you drivin’ that boy’s truck.”
“Mom, Billy and I broke up.”
She waved me off. “That won’t last forever and you know it.”
Arguing wasn’t going to get me anywhere, so I opted to take the high road. “I just wanted to stop by, check in. I’m good, I promise.”
“You ain’t good if you’re drivin’ that truck,” Vic said, his eyes focused on me. “That boy’s bad news,” he repeated.
“He’s not bad news,” I insisted. “He’s a friend and he’s loanin’ me his truck until I can get mine fixed.”
“Shoulda known you’d go messin’ up a good thing,” my mother grumbled.
The words, no matter how often my mother said them, still shocked me every time. I knew Billy played a big part in it. He fed my mother lies until I looked like the bad guy every time.
And this was the very reason I stayed away. I hated arguing with my mother, but it seemed inevitable these days.
“It’s no wonder Billy had to stray,” my mother continued. “If you’re spendin’ time with other men…”
“Mother!” I took a deep breath. “Billy was steppin’ out on me. Not the other way around. He was the one out screwin’ other women while I was sittin’ at home wonderin’ where he was.”
“You don’t know that,” she insisted.
“I do know that! He told me.”
“He was just upset.”
The way she said that had me stiffening. My voice lowered when I pinned my mother with a glare. “Did you talk to Billy?”
“He came by the other night. Wanted to apologize for all that was goin’ on. Said he was gonna work extra-hard to get you back. Said it was all a misunderstandin’.”
“Like hell,” I hissed.
My mother waved her hand toward Lynx’s truck. “I can’t help but think that maybe you’re the one who’s been givin’ him mixed signals, Reagan.”
Pointless.
The whole fucking thing was pointless.
And with everything going on, I knew I wasn’t going to hold it together for much longer. So, in an effort to save some of my sanity, I spun on my boot heel and marched right back out the door.
“Reagan Marie Trevino! Don’t you walk out that door!”
Too late.
“You need to go talk to Billy!” she yelled.
“Fucking hell,” I murmured as I yanked open the truck door and practically launched myself inside.
Next time I considered coming by to check in, I really needed to have someone give me a brain scan. Because if I ever thought it was a good idea, clearly I wasn’t functioning on all cylinders.
Lynx
I had fully intended to head home, but found myself back at Wolfe’s after I picked up my father’s truck. Everyone had hung around until a few minutes ago, even Travis, Gage, and the lawyer woman. Rhys had finally had to suggest they give Amy a break, but when I went to leave, Wolfe had stopped me.
“I still don’t see how this is goin’ to shake out,” Wolfe said, taking a long pull on his beer as he leaned against the front porch railing.
“Me, either,” I agreed. I propped my feet up on the wood and leaned back in the chair we’d dragged from the kitchen table.
“The fuckin’ mob, bro,” Wolfe said with a whistle.
“Didn’t even know they existed,” I told my cousin.
Apparently, living in a small town meant being in the dark about some shit.
The screen door creaked open and Rhys stepped outside.
“You think this plan’s gonna work?”
Rhys shrugged, obviously not needing to be brought into the loop. “Depends on whether or not this guy’s interested in bringin’ them down.”
“But if I didn’t know about them and I live here, how do they think word’s gonna get out? I mean, yeah”—I pointed my beer bottle at Rhys—“people are gonna talk. But it’s not like the grapevine’s got a hotline to Houston.”
That earned me another shrug from Rhys. “I just want him stopped. I don’t fuckin’ care how they do it.”
Now, that surprised me.
Although he was the sheriff, Rhys Trevino was a good guy. And the town really was lucky to have him. He was fair and just, which worked in everyone’s favor. But this had to be wearing on him. The woman he loved was in danger. No way could any sane man sit back and wait for something to happen.
“Personally, I’m not worried about what information makes it through the grapevine,” Wolfe said. “I want this bastard stopped. Goin’ after him ourselves would be the right way.”
Rhys’s eyes cut to Wolfe.
Wolfe held up his hands in surrender. “Not sayin’ I’m gonna do anything.”
I shook my head and took another sip of my beer. “I just don’t get it. I know Travis wants to help out, but this seems a little extreme.”
“Ever think that maybe there’s another plan?” Rhys suggested.
Wolfe and I both locked our eyes on the sheriff.
“Such as…?” Wolfe asked.
“I don’t know,” Rhys said, his frustration evident. “I just get the feelin’ that Max Adorite is gonna play a role in this.”
“Which means…?” I probed.
Rhys huffed. “Fuck if I know. I just get the feelin’ that this is some sort of distraction.”
I glanced at my cousin. I didn’t know the first thing about the mafia, but I'd seen enough movies to get the gist of it. Perhaps Max Adorite was going to take out the police chief.
And wouldn’t that make everything fucking easier?
“I can tell ya,” I said, tilting my head toward Rhys, “if the mafia boss wants to take out the crazy bastard, more power to him.”
That, obviously, wasn’t what Rhys wanted to hear.