Chapter 13
When Petula had driven up to her house, she was a little surprised to see all the trucks parked there, willy-nilly. Strange. Monday wasn’t normally a day when the crew all got together.
She’d just pulled up beside them when she spotted something else that had made her pause.
His truck. Julian’s.
Seriously?
What the hell?
Part of Petula was pissed. Another, savvier piece of her said that she should have expected it. Since when did guys like Julian—and her brother for that matter—sit back and wait for anything to unfold naturally?
Probably never.
Both Julian and her brother—and she should totally insert Stat’s entire crew here, too—always wanted to force, manipulate, or hurry things along, depending on the situation.
Why she felt blindsided right now, she didn’t know. Maybe this appearance, in particular, hurt because she’d wanted to keep Julian to herself for a while. At least until things heated up.
If that’s where things were headed.
Now, Petula had a decision to make. Did she take a chance? See what might grow between her and Julian? Or was she going to call it quits because the man had run roughshod over her agenda, and would probably do so in the future if she gave him the opportunity.
It really depended on what he had to say.
Petula quietly opened the front door and caught the last of something that came from Julian’s lips.
“…would it be you or Petula?”
“You mean me, Petula?” she demanded as she slammed the door behind her.
Everyone scrambled to their feet.
She glared at Julian, but threw a question at her brother. “What is he doing here?”
Julian certainly looked sheepish. Was it because he’d overstepped, or because he’d been caught?
She was damned well going to find out, because if there was one thing she already knew about Julian, he wouldn’t outright lie to her.
He was cut from the same cloth as all the people in this room, and even if he did try to…
prevaricate, seven other voices would chime in with the truth.
“It’s sort of what it seems, Pet,” Statler placated. “But also, not.”
Petula narrowed her eyes. “Fine. Why don’t we let him explain?
If looks could kill, Julian would be roasting on a spit right now. His story had better be good.
Julian slowly walked toward her. He glanced down at her hand, and almost reflexively reached for it.
She skirted away. It would only be the second time they’d touched, and she didn’t want him or the gang seeing her reaction—which would most likely involve visible shivers—when she was supposed to be mad.
Wait. Supposed to be mad? Hah. She was incensed.
“Talk,” she ordered, stabbing Julian with her best, intimidating look.
She couldn’t be certain if Dizzy was the one who said “Ooooh,” under his breath, but she was pretty sure it was. Always the joker of the group. She shot him a dead-man look, too, and he dropped his eyes.
Julian, however, didn’t hesitate to take her heat, for which she was thankful.
“I came for a couple reasons,” he explained, thrusting his hands deep into his jeans pockets after she’d rejected him. He rocked uncomfortably on his feet. “First, I wanted to meet your brother and ask him if it was alright if I started seeing you, for real, as in for actual, nighttime dates.”
Petula instantly blew a gasket. “What is this, the seventeenth century?” she snapped.
“Since when does my brother’s opinion have anything to do with my social life?
I get that all you guys are overbearing alphas who chest-beat regularly to see which one of you gets named top-dog-of-the-month, but this has nothing to do with you all. Nothing.”
“Woof, woof,” Diz snickered.
Blue elbowed the man hard in the ribs.
“Ow,” he complained loudly.
“Thanks, Blue,” Petula commended. It served Diz right.
Petula turned her attention back to Julian. “If you had any questions about us dating, it’s me you should have asked, not Stat.”
It felt like a huge betrayal. Even though she’d lived around these kinds of egos and tactics for years, Petula didn’t like that bullshit touching her life.
“Pet, don’t—” Statler attempted.
Petula cut her brother off. “No. Shut it, Stat. You do not get to tell me how I feel, and right now I’m not talking to you.”
At the moment, she actually felt more like screaming than talking, but Petula somehow managed to maintain her cool. “This is not acceptable on so many levels.”
“I’m sorry, Petula,” Julian looked her in the eyes with all sincerity.
His melting-chocolate brown orbs almost had her giving in.
But no. Before she’d decide whether or not to forgive him, he was going to have to think hard on what he’d done for a period of time yet to be determined.
A couple of weeks, maybe? A month? Petula gave an internal sigh.
She probably wouldn’t be able to stay mad at him that long.
For now, his apology was a start, and more than she’d expected. Especially in front of a group of guys who were always posturing for supremacy, and who rarely showed their softer sides in confrontational situations.
But back to Julian…
“The jury is out on whether or not I’ll forgive your lapse in judgement,” Petula told him. “But we’ll find another time and place to discuss it. Right now, however, you said there were a couple reasons you came here?”
Whatever it was, it better be good.
“Sit down, Petti,” Statler interceded.
“Huh?” Petula blinked.
Nothing that began with “sit down” was ever good.
Crap.
Petula dropped her bag on the coffee table, along with her spring-weight jacket, then lowered herself to one end of the sofa.
Everyone followed suit, taking their various chairs, with Julian sitting beside her.
Well, not beside her, beside her. He kept a three-foot buffer between them.
Judicious.
“Alright. What’s so important?” she petitioned.
Julian looked at Stat. Stat looked at Julian, then her brother gave a nod.
Julian began. “I, um, might have had a friend do a little background check—”
“Oh my God!” Petula hissed, interrupting. “Seriously? Damn, Julian. You do know this is making things so much worse, don’t you?”
Stater cleared his throat. “Uh, Petula? We kind-of did the same thing with him. Remember?” he interjected.
Petula’s next words died in her throat. Right. They had set Sherb to that. Not that she’d heard the entire results of his search yet, but she was sure the rest of the crew had.
Crap.
She couldn’t hold on to her anger quite so righteously now.
“Proceed,” she told Julian coldly.
He didn’t seem eager, but he complied. “I, uh, found out a few things about your past that I should probably have waited to hear from you,” he began.
“You think?” she snapped under her breath.
He persevered. “But along with that information, which—so you don’t feel completely blindsided—was just didactic, I came across something…disturbing.”
Petula dropped her attitude. She had a feeling that if Julian thought something was disturbing, it most definitely was. She glanced around the room, and everyone looked grim.
Yeah. This was clearly going to suck.
Julian spit it out. “Eight months ago, your brother Jefferson was released from state custody.”
Petula sucked in a breath. She and Statler had discussed this. They’d known it would happen, sooner or later, but later would have been nice.
“So, he’s out,” she stated. “Not a total surprise.”
Julian continued. “Agreed. But because you and Statler changed your last name, not once, but twice, you were…somewhat unreachable, and you weren’t contacted.”
Petula took that to mean that bureaucratic red tape hadn’t allowed anyone the resources to hunt them down. That sucked, but…
“Still, I’m not seeing the problem.”
“I’m getting to that,” Julian responded gently. “What wasn’t expected,” he resumed, “was that after nearly seven months of seeing his parole officer, where a lot of anger was still being displayed, Jefferson disappeared.”
What?
Was that even a thing these days? Didn’t people have ankle monitors, and…wasn’t anybody keeping tabs on him?
“He was reported missing five weeks ago,” Julian told her, “and so far he hasn’t been found.”
Petula swallowed, taking it all in while swiftly going over the implications. “You think he might come after us,” she stated.
Statler was the one to nod. “One or both of us. And if Jefferson is smart, which we remember he is, he won’t let a few name changes stand in the way of finding us. If he already hasn’t.”
Petula, who had been paying attention to everyone, but mostly Julian, saw the man’s face go white.
“Shit,” Julian snapped.
“What?” Several voices barked out the question at the same time.
Julian looked shaken as he addressed them all. “I don’t suppose any of you have a beat-up blue pickup? Blacked out windows?” He named the make and model.
“Not us,” Hazard answered sharply. “Why?”
Julian groaned and scrubbed a hand over his face.
“Because when Petula and I met for coffee at the Moose and Muffin on Saturday, I noted a vehicle of that description drive by the café several times.” His look hardened.
“I didn’t think much of it, knowing all of you are ex-military.
I figured one of you had been assigned to look out for Petula. ”
Sherbert got up purposely from his chair to retrieve his computer from a bag by the door. He sat down again, balancing it on his lap, already logging in.
“Sherb?” Statler asked.
“I want to see if the Moose and Muffin, or any of the businesses nearby, have video surveillance footage I can tap into,” he responded, already distracted.
“You can do that?” Petula asked. She knew Sherb was a computer whiz, but she didn’t know his skills extended to that kind of hacking.
“I’m…not sure,” he allowed with a grunt. “I’ve never tried before, on a local level. When I was deployed, I was privy to all kinds of encryption-busters that the government provided. The civilian world doesn’t work quite the same way, but I’m hoping for a miracle.”
“I know someone who can make it happen. I’m calling Tex,” Julian pulled his phone from his pocket without hesitation.
“Tex?” Petula questioned. “Who’s that?”
Sherb suddenly looked excited. “Only the best hacker anyone’s ever heard of.” His voice actually cracked before addressing Julian “Will you…let me talk to him?”
Julian nodded, then held up a finger.
“Tex? Julian.” He chuckled dryly. “Yeah. Of course you knew that. I’m here with Petula, Statler, and Statler’s crew.”
Julian’s eyes widened, and this time he gave an actual laugh before he addressed everyone in the room. “He just rattled off all your names.”
“Damn, that man is good,” Sherbert marveled.
Julian went back to the call.
“No.” He answered a question from Tex, then reiterated for the group.
“This isn’t a social call. Petula might have picked up a tail.
And by tail, I mean her brother. Sherbert needs to tap into some local camera surveillance to find out if it’s him, and doesn’t quite have what he needs to do it.
” He gave Tex the address of the Moose and Muffin, then nodded and proffered his phone to Sherb.
“He wants to talk to you.”
Sherbert’s color, which was already high, went off the charts to a fiery red.
“Me?” he squeaked, but reached eagerly for Julian’s device.
“Mister… Tex. Sir,” Sherb stumbled. “It’s an honor to speak with you.” There was a brief pause. “Yes. I have my computer right here. Let me…” He lifted his device and walked toward the kitchen in a semi-daze. “I’m getting to a place where I won’t be disturbed.”
They watched him go, then Petula sparked up the conversation again.
“So Jefferson is in the wind, and you think he’s the one who owns the blue truck?” she questioned.
“It’s possible,” Statler answered, then grunted. “Actually, it’s highly likely. Who else would be interested in your whereabouts, and…?”
He cut himself off, his attitude shifting to alert as he actually smacked himself in the head. “Didn’t you say you had a flat tire the other day?”
“Yeah. Damn potholes,” Petula snorted.
“It was way outside of town, though, right?” he continued, unrelenting.
“It was,” Petula answered, slowly beginning to see where her brother might be going with this.
He kept probing. “Was there anything suspicious about it? Anything at all?”
Petula started to shake her head, but thought back instead…
There was something.
“Would a flat tire caused by a pothole make a sharp, popping sound?” she asked unsteadily.
“A popping sound like…what?” Julian didn’t look happy.
Petula concentrated, and played back the incident in her head. She’d been pretty distracted, still fuming over the misloading of her van. But still, as she rewound those few seconds in her head…
“I…” She swallowed hard. “I guess it sounded a little bit like a gunshot,” she related shakily.
“Damn.” Tonka swore.
“But wait,” Blue interjected with a puzzled look on her face. “If someone shot out her tire with the intent to disable her vehicle and take her, why didn’t they?”
Petula, unfortunately, had an answer for that. “Because a local USPS delivery person saw me not more than thirty seconds after it happened. A big, burly guy, he stayed with me until roadside assistance arrived.”
Everyone exchanged dark glances.
This wasn’t good.
“Okay, we have to implement a plan. One I know you’re not going to like, Petula,” Statler told her.
“Which is?” she rasped, because her throat had suddenly become far too dry.
“We—”
Sherbert strode into the room, looking more like the soldier he was than the starstruck civilian he’d been when he’d first begun speaking to Tex.
He regarded Julian with an intensity that ramped up Petula’s angst.
“Tex wants to talk to you,” he said, holding out the phone. “He’s just received additional intel, and you’re going to want to hear it.”