Chapter 21
Shylo remained where she was, refusing to move any closer to the bed.
Troy had already made the small motel room feel cramped simply by occupying it.
The scent of stale cigarettes clung to his clothes beneath whatever cheap body spray he'd used to cover it, and every time he sniffled and flicked his nose, she became more convinced he'd spent part of the morning with cocaine.
It wouldn't have been the first time. Probably wouldn't be the last.
She leaned against the worn dresser. “You don't have any claim to my inheritance.”
He smirked as if she'd said something amusing. “Says who?”
“The law, for starters.”
His eyes rolled. “The law's never done much for me.”
No kidding. She'd lost count of the number of times she'd watched him get hauled away in handcuffs before finally accepting he would never change.
According to Troy, every arrest had been someone else's fault, every lost job the result of an idiot boss, and every eviction the landlord's problem instead of his.
Taking responsibility for anything had never been one of Troy's strengths.
“You're not getting a dime,” she said. “Peter Wilson wasn't your father.”
“No, he wasn’t.” Troy scratched at the stubble along his jaw. “But he was yours.”
“That doesn't make his estate yours.”
He shrugged. “Doesn't matter. You get paid, I get paid.”
“No, it doesn't work that way.” Frustration crept into her voice. “Whatever happened between Peter and Mom had nothing to do with you. If I have any claim at all, it's because I'm his child. You're not.”
His expression never changed, as though she'd wasted thirty seconds explaining the obvious to a child.
She stared at him, wondering how two people raised by the same woman could have turned out so differently. Then again, she'd spent most of her life trying not to become Troy. Maybe that had made all the difference.
“The estate's already been settled,” she said, deciding there was no point hiding facts he could verify himself. “Years ago. Peter's will left everything to Shane. Legally, there's nothing waiting for me.”
“Then why are you still here?”
The question caught her off guard. She searched for a believable lie, but Troy had spent their entire childhood spotting her tells when she tried to bluff. If she hesitated too long, he'd know she was hiding something.
“I've been trying to figure Shane out,” she admitted, choosing each word with care. “Whether he'll fight me if I challenge the estate.”
“And?”
She hated giving him even that much.
“I don't know yet. I need a few more days. I want to see if there's a chance he'll do the right thing before I talk to a lawyer.”
Troy didn't answer right away. He studied her face, the smug amusement fading into something more calculating, as though fitting another piece into a puzzle she'd never wanted him to see. The silence stretched long enough to make her wish she'd lied anyway.
His crooked-toothed grin returned. “I like that plan. Lawyers could drag this out for years. Cozy up to him first, and maybe he'll hand you a check to make you go away.”
For the first time since he'd arrived, a sliver of hope crept in. Maybe he would stay out of it. Maybe if she could convince him to leave Hazard Falls for a few days, she could still salvage everything she'd worked so hard to build.
Then she watched his expression change. The grin didn't disappear. It sharpened. He'd figured something out.
“Which means,” he said, drawing the words out, “me walking onto that ranch right now would blow the whole thing to hell.”
The air seemed to vanish from the room.
“Troy...” His name escaped as little more than a warning, but he ignored it.
“But don't drag your feet.” He scratched absently at the tattoo climbing his neck before meeting her gaze again. “I want my cut. You’ve got until the end of Monday to get the check from him and cash it at the bank, or I’ll take care of it myself.”
Her pulse climbed another notch.
As long as he could threaten to expose the truth before she had the chance to tell Shane herself, he held all the leverage.
“Don’t even think about screwing me over,” he continued. “Otherwise, I'll make damn sure Shane hears the truth from me first. And once I do that...” He shrugged, as if the rest hardly mattered. “Good luck getting a penny. I’ll take it all.”
The knot in Shylo's stomach pulled even tighter.
He wasn't bluffing. He’d found the one thing she couldn't afford to lose—not the inheritance itself, but the chance to earn Shane's trust.
He must have read the answer on her face because satisfaction crept into his expression.
He pushed away from the headboard and stretched, looking more like a man settling into a hotel room than someone who'd forced his way inside.
The mattress creaked beneath the shift in his weight, and the familiar sound made her want to vomit.
Only a few minutes earlier, she'd been sitting on that same bed with Seth, talking about seeing each other again that evening.
Now it felt as though Troy had contaminated every good memory she'd made there.
“And before you ask,” he said, getting to his feet, “I'm not going anywhere. I'm about broke, so I'll be staying with you until this gets sorted out.”
Her eyes widened. “No, you won't.”
He looked genuinely amused by the response. “Sure I will. I’m not sleeping in my truck again.” His gaze drifted toward the bed before returning to her. “Might want to ask for a room with two beds, though.”
“I am not sharing a motel room with you.”
He shrugged as though it made no difference to him. “Then get me another room.”
She had no idea whether or not to believe he was broke.
Troy had never been good with money. If he'd blown through whatever cash he had before leaving Brimley Flats, she wouldn't be surprised.
Then again, she'd known him long enough not to trust much of anything that came out of his mouth.
If he really were broke, she also wouldn't have put it past him to swipe a wallet, rob a convenience store, or knock over a liquor store somewhere between West Virginia and Kansas. He might’ve hit some casinos along the way too.
Whether he was lying or not didn't really matter. She wasn't about to share a room with him, and if paying for a second one kept him out of hers, she'd consider it money well spent. “Fine. But I'll pay for a room in Wexler. Or the next town over. Anywhere but Hazard Falls.”
If she could keep him out of town, there was a good chance nobody would connect him to her, especially Seth or Shane and his family. The fewer people who crossed paths with Troy, the better.
He laughed, the sound rough enough to scrape against her nerves. “You really don't get it, do you?”
Before she could answer, he crossed the room until barely two feet separated them. The stale smell of cigarettes and whatever he'd tried to cover them with invaded her space, forcing her to fight the urge to step back. She refused to give him that satisfaction.
“I'm staying close because I don't trust you,” he said. “The minute the asshole hands you a check, you'll disappear, and I'll never see a dime.”
“If I get anything,” she corrected, refusing to promise him money that didn't exist.
“When you get something. He’ll pay even if I have to beat it out of him. Besides, if he’s rich enough to own a big ol’ ranch, he can afford to give his long-lost sister some of it.”
The confidence in his voice made her skin crawl. In Troy's mind, the money was already his. He'd convinced himself he was entitled to it, and reality had never stood in the way of getting what he wanted.
“And like I said, if you decide to screw me over...” He let the words trail off while his gaze drifted toward the window, as though the Triple R sat just beyond the glass. “Shane won't be the only one having a bad day.”
A chill crept through her. “What's that supposed to mean?”
He looked back at her, a nasty grin spreading across his face.
“It means I hit a bar up the road for a burger and some beer last night after I got into town. Found out from a couple of drunks that Shane Wilson’s got a wife and a husband—fucking queer.
And he’s got a few rugrats. You know what they say—accidents happen.
” He shrugged. “That ranch of his is a pretty big place. He’s got a lot of employees, too.
Bet your boyfriend is one of them. Does he fuck guys, too, when he’s not screwing a loser like you? ”
The threat landed exactly as he'd intended. “You stay the hell away from them—all of them!”
His grin widened another notch. “Make me.”
Fear replaced anger so quickly, it stole her breath. The warning hung between them, ugly and unmistakable.
Outside, a horn gave a quick toot, followed by approaching footsteps and the murmur of voices. They passed her door a moment later, their conversation fading as they continued across the parking lot. Ordinary sounds. Ordinary people going about their day.
Inside the motel room, nothing felt ordinary anymore.
A few minutes ago, Troy had been the last person she'd expected to find outside her door.
Now he had become something far worse. He wasn't only demanding part of an inheritance he had no right to.
He was threatening the fragile relationships she'd built since coming to Hazard Falls, and she knew he'd follow through if she backed him into a corner.
Before he showed up, she'd been surprised to realize the inheritance no longer mattered most to her. The chance to build a genuine relationship with Shane had taken its place, and somewhere along the way, Seth had climbed to the top of the list too. Now all of it was at risk.
There was no denying that the money would make her life easier.
It would erase years of scraping by and give her the freedom to stop worrying about every unexpected expense.
But if she walked away from Hazard Falls with nothing more than the life she'd arrived with, she'd still be leaving behind far more than she'd ever expected to find.
She'd grown to love the town and most of the people in it—well, at least the ones who didn't talk about Shane, Tucker, and Paige as though they were the devil's spawn.
More than that, she'd discovered something she'd never imagined having—a brother who might actually want her in his life instead of wishing she'd never existed.
Apparently satisfied he'd made himself perfectly clear, Troy turned away from her, crossed the room, and dropped onto the bed again.
He rested one arm along the headboard and looked at her expectantly.
“So, where are you working? I doubt you have enough money saved up to pay for this motel room every night.
Unless you've been whoring yourself out.”
She gritted her teeth, resisting the urge to tell him to fuck off.
Then dread overtook her again. It wasn't just everyone at the Triple-R she had to worry about now.
If Troy knew where she worked, he'd have another place to find her and stir up trouble.
Betty Lou, her coworkers, the regulars at Bar None...
none of them deserved to be caught in the middle of his schemes, yet he wouldn't think twice about using any of them if it got him what he wanted.
She could lie and tell him she had a job in Wexler or one of the neighboring towns.
But he'd already been to Bar None. That realization gave her pause.
Her name must not have come up while he'd been there.
Troy was a loser and an asshole, but he was at least smart enough to know that asking about her would draw unwanted attention to himself.
It wouldn't stay that way for long, though.
Troy would end up back at Bar None eventually. He always gravitated toward bars when he had nowhere else to be, and when he saw her there, he'd know she'd lied.
And then she'd have another disaster to deal with.
She blew out a quiet breath. Lying would only delay the inevitable. “I work at the bar you were at last night.”
His eyebrows climbed, but before he could say anything, she added, “But stay away from it.”
“Why?”
“Because I know the people there, and they know me. This town isn't big enough for strangers to go unnoticed. If you hang around, somebody's going to realize we know each other or worse, that we're related. We have the same last name. Then they'll start asking questions.”
“So let ’em.”
“No.” Her voice sharpened before she forced it back under control. “I'm finally getting somewhere, Troy. I don't need you screwing it up.”
He watched her for a moment. “Fine. Where am I supposed to drink?”
“The Last Chance Saloon.”
“The what?”
“The Last Chance Saloon. It's more your kind of place.” She'd spotted the dingy little bar while wandering through town one afternoon. It looked like the sort of hole-in-the-wall Troy had practically lived in back home—cheap beer, a battered pool table, and customers who preferred to mind their own business. “Trust me. You'll like it better. It’s like O’Malley’s.”
His grin answered before his words did when she mentioned his favorite haunt. “Now you're talking my language.”
“And if we happen to cross paths somewhere?”
“I've never seen you before,” he said with a shrug.
“Good.”
She headed for the door, then paused with her hand on the knob.
“Don't make me regret this.” It was a pointless thing to say. She already did.
His laugh followed her outside, echoing behind her even after the door clicked shut. She stood on the concrete walkway for a long moment, staring across the parking lot.
Troy wasn't just a problem.
He was the match about to drop and destroy everything.