Chapter 6
For hours, I go over the documents, and it doesn’t take me long to figure out just how Harper was involved.
She was using her father’s, my uncle’s, cattle business to make money for these assholes.
Using the books to cover up fake sales, depositing dirty money, inflating invoices, and basically cleaning dirty money by running it through the farm.
Not only are these men making money, they’re doing it in a genius way.
Suddenly, Harper’s death feels very wrong. Did she really just have an accident, or was it something far worse?
Fear clutches my chest as I go through the paperwork, going over all the fake sales and invoices, and as the night goes on, I scribble all over copies I made, figuring out just how much money she was running through this business. An alarming amount.
Did my uncle know?
The wind howls against the old farmhouse, and in moments, it’s pouring with rain.
I’m not entirely sure this house can handle rain, but I guess I’m about to find out.
I move into the kitchen, switching on the fluorescent and shuffling the mess of paperwork into piles by subject.
The harder I try to organize, the faster my heart beats.
This isn’t only about Harper. This is about the hole in the world she left, and how her absence reverberates through everything, even my hands, shaking as I hold the evidence.
The money, the signatures, her name—her goddamn handwriting, loopy and ridiculous, on every other line.
I’m halfway through circling another false cattle order when the front door slams open and Knox steps in, dripping wet, wild-eyed with a fury I can taste from all the way over here.
He’s soaked—his jacket, black tee, even his boots squelch.
His hair, usually well put together in a messy kind of way, is stuck to his forehead, making him look so dark and dangerous, I have to swallow.
There’s a bottle dangling from his hand, bourbon, almost empty.
“You’re here,” he rasps, like it’s a threat.
“Where the hell else would I be?” I mutter.
He advances on me, every inch of him vibrating, and when he’s close, I see that his eyes are glassy and his jaw is so tight the muscles bunch in his cheek. He smells like rain and whiskey, the heady mix making my entire body flinch, then soften.
His eyes move to all the papers.
“For fuck’s sake, Callie. What the hell are you doing? She wasn’t part of this, you need to back off.”
Oh, how wrong he is.
I laugh bitterly and wave my hands over the papers. “You’re wrong. So wrong. Harper’s signature is all over these, proof that she was involved. She was cleaning money for Ralston, she was running his dirty business through the farm. Don’t believe me, it’s all here.”
He reacts like I’ve slapped him—he recoils, fists clenched around the neck of the bottle. “Bullshit.”
“Look at it, then.” I shove the paperwork at him, and he bats it aside. Pages flutter to the floor and scatter.
Anger bubbles in my chest.
I get it, he doesn’t want to think his precious Harper was lying to him, but she was, and now it’s coming back on me.
“Don’t.” His voice is a threat, low and sharp, but I’m not scared, not really. Maybe I should be.
“What? Tell you the truth? You can deny it all you want, but the proof is right here.”
He looks at me, searching for something. I don’t know what he’s hoping to find, but as he steps towards me, tossing the bottle to the ground and caging me in against the kitchen counter, I forget where I am. I hold my breath, staring at his drunk face, still so handsome it hurts.
“Why would she do that?” His words are jagged. “Why would she work for them?”
I wish I knew.
“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out. I know you’re angry, she didn’t just lie to you, she lied to all of us.”
A laugh, bitter. “Wouldn’t be the first time a girl did that.”
I glare at him. “Oh, because men have never lied.”
“Fuck you.”
I bare my teeth at him. “Fuck you too. You can be angry at me all you want, but she’s the one who lied, and she’s the one who got me into this mess. So go on, take it out on me, refuse to admit what’s right in front of you. I’m done with people like you.”
I shove at his chest, but it does nothing.
He moves, so fast I don’t see it coming.
One hand tangles in my hair, the other grabs my jaw rough enough to hurt.
His mouth crushes mine, all teeth and whiskey and pent-up frustration.
It’s angry, desperate, and I open to him because I don’t know what else to do.
My hands fist in his shirt, dragging him closer, and for one perfect, terrifying second, I forget everything.
He’s wet, he’s hard, and I can’t seem to make myself pull away.
He tastes like salt and bourbon and something all his.
His tongue dances against mine, and I want to bite him, draw blood, make him feel something that isn’t pain.
He must sense it because he softens, just a fraction, his lips gliding over mine in such a way I forget how to breathe.
I gasp, and he laughs into my mouth, a low vibration that drives me insane.
There’s nothing gentle in the way he presses me to the counter, nothing sweet about the way his fingers dig into my hip.
But I know this is what he wants—me, angry, alive, fighting him every inch.
And fuck me, I want it too.
But I’m too proud, too raw, too wrecked to let him use me to cover up his own heartbreak and betrayal. He is in love with Harper. She might not be here, but she belonged to him, and he just found out she lied. I break the kiss, shoving him back with both hands, chests heaving and eyes blazing.
“You don’t get to use me to forget about her,” I snap, voice shaking, “and you sure as hell don’t get to use me to forget about yourself.”
He doesn’t stop me when I duck under his arm and disappear down the hall, slamming my bedroom door behind me. The sound echoes in my bones. I collapse onto the old air mattress, heart pounding, tongue still tingling with the taste of him.
Let the storm rage. Let the house leak. Let everything fall apart.
I’m too tired to put it back together tonight.
“WAKEY WAKEY.”
Mera’s sing-song voice fills the room, and it takes me a moment to focus.
I open my eyes, and immediately the sun blasts into them, making me groan and throw a hand over my face.
I roll to my side, mumbling something even I don’t understand, but am quickly brought back to reality when Mera takes the blanket and jerks it off me.
“God damn,” I moan, sitting up, hair a mess, glaring at her.
She’s not alone; she’s with Nia and Sable, and they’re both grinning at me, coffee in hand, a brown paper bag filled with something delicious.
“We’re here to work, and the club is, too. They’re out fixing fences and your roof because girl, your kitchen is wet,” Sable shoots me a grin.
The club?
They brought the club.
Memories of last night flash across my mind, of the kiss, the discovery, and every other emotion I felt. I press my lips together, pushing it aside.
“Fine, I’m up,” I grumble, reaching for the coffee as Mera hands it to me, wickedly delighted by her own ability to torture me before my first caffeine dose. I fumble with the cup, nearly sloshing it on my face.
I lean forward, peering out the window over the rim of the cup and, sure enough, there’s a swarm of guys out there stomping through my weedy yard with nothing but jeans, boots, and tool belts. Sable is right, they’ve brought the club. And oh, what a sight they are.
“It’s a full work party,” Nia says, poking through the bag. “Donut?”
I grab one, stuff half in my mouth, then mumble, “What time is it?”
“Eleven,” Mera says, grinning.
I glare, but can’t hold it long.
Sable opens the window, and the smell of cut grass and cigarette smoke comes wafting in.
It’s weirdly comforting. We gather around the window like old ladies ogling the neighbor mowing his lawn.
Hot men, all tattoos, some dragging ladders, others hauling planks, and every single one a ridiculous, unapologetic display of muscle per square inch.
“So,” Mera says, giving me a look, “Are you going to tell us why you just looked at Knox like that, or do we have to guess?”
I huff, walking out of the room and into the wet kitchen, trying to avoid the question.
“You can’t hide,” Nia calls, following me.
I groan. “It’s complicated.”
“Complicated is for pussies,” Sable jokes, placing her coffee down and staring around at the papers scattered all over the floor, half of which are now damp. “What the hell happened in here last night?”
“You don’t want to know.”
I start tidying up, swatting at crumbs on the counter, but the distraction only lasts until Nia twirls me around and puts both hands on my shoulders. “Tell us, woman, or we’ll go ask him.”
I shoot her a glare.
“Fine. If you must know, Knox kissed me.”
Dead silence.
Even Sable’s jaw drops open, so wide the donut nearly falls out. Nia blinks at me, and Mera immediately shrieks, “No way.”
“Way,” I mumble, trying to keep my cheeks from igniting.
“It was... not what you’re thinking.”
“Were tongues involved?” Sable, horror-movie gleeful.
I grab a paper towel and throw it at her. “Oh yes. Tongues were involved. Teeth were involved. Bourbon was definitely involved. But I stopped it, because it’s a very bad idea.”
Nia lets out a howl and slams her mug on the table. “Tell us everything. Start at the angry part and end with the sexy part, but don’t skip the part where he probably threatened to murder you.”
I huff. They want to know all the juicy details, fine, they can’t say I didn’t warn them. I tell them everything, about Harper, about the kiss, and about how it ended.
For a moment, they all stare in shock.
“You’re telling me Harper was pinballing dirty money through this place, and not a single soul knew it?” Mera asks, her eyes wide.
I nod.
Mera gives a low whistle. “Damn. How much money are we talking?”