Chapter 66
Chapter Sixty-Six
Renthrow
Since Ray isn’t at the Tuna or at the outdoor garage, bothering April and Rebel, that leaves only a few places he could be holing up.
Thankfully, Lucky Falls is a small town, and there’s only one bed and breakfast.
Once we get there, I’m ready to start pummeling anything that comes into focus. But things aren’t that simple.
Our first challenge?
Getting Ray’s room number.
Chance steps forward, taking charge of that task. He exchanges pleasantries with the clerk at the front desk. The conversation meanders from the weather to hockey to the girl’s family.
I’m foaming at the mouth to slam my hand on the desk and demand Ray’s room number. But Chance knows how important this is, and I trust him as my teammate and as a friend.
“So,” Chance says casually, “we heard through the grapevine that someone new moved into Room…” He arches a brow, waiting for her to fill in the silence.
She scrambles through her files. “Uh, it was 104.” Suddenly, the receptionist covers her mouth. “But you didn’t hear that from me.”
“Of course not.” Chance winks at her.
Bingo.
I stalk past the desk and up the stairs.
Gunner is right on my heels.
“W-where are you going?” The receptionist goes pale. “Y-you can’t go up there.”
Chance says something about “not calling the sheriff even if she hears loud noises” and then chases us down.
I jog up the stairs and hear someone breathing heavily behind me. Campbell is slowing down. His face is pinched, and he’s limping, but when he sees me looking, he straightens his shoulders.
Under any other circumstance, I’d try to make it more convenient for him, but I don’t have the patience. He’ll catch up when he catches up.
Room 104
A golden glow spills under the door.
Someone’s home.
I make a fist and bang on the door. It rattles on its hinges.
“Dude, that’s too much force,” Chance cautions. “He’s not going to come out if you attack right out the gate.”
Gunner pulls me back forcibly by the shoulder.
Chance steps forward and knocks again.
No response.
Chance tries one more time. “Sir, your complimentary drink is here.”
“Complimentary drink?” I hiss.
Chance shrugs.
“I’m busy. Go away!” a male voice calls back.
I grunt. So much for doing it Chance’s way.
Giving the door another hard, deliberate knock, I growl, “I heard you’re looking for Cordelia.”
The door swings open.
Raymond Rourke fills the doorway, looking like a shell of the man who accompanied Gwendolyn to all their rich friends’ glamorous parties. Dark under-eye circles shadow his face, and his beard is more unkempt than mine.
He looks surprised when he sees me. Then his gaze tracks to Chance and Gunner who are flanking me like bouncers.
With a self-preservation instinct, he wheels back.
I take that as permission to storm into the room.
“What the—what do you think you’re doing?” Ray yells, his gaze casting around for, I assume, a weapon of some sort.
“Relax. We’re just here to talk,” Chance says, and then he nudges me in the side.
I didn’t say that at all, Chance.
I step forward threateningly. “Actually, I’m here to help you pack your bags.”
“Who do you think you are, Renthrow?” Ray spits.
The fact that he knows my name makes me freeze. “Do you know who I am?”
His eyes widen, and he shakes his head, but the way his jaw clenches tells me otherwise.
“I know who you are too.” I take another step, and Ray scrambles back.
“You’re the guy who’s leaving town tonight.
And you won’t be back. You won’t even breathe in the direction of Cordelia or this town again.
Because if you do, I will make sure the next thing you see is your own dental X-ray. Do I make myself clear?”
Ray’s lips curl up in a snarl. “I heard you have a daughter.”
I jerk around, rage building in my veins. How dare he mention my baby girl?
“I wouldn’t stick around Cordelia if you want to keep your family safe. The woman is a curse.”
I grab him by the collar. “Shut your mouth before I shut it for you.”
“It’s true. Ask her. Ask her what she said to Gwen. Ask her what happened to my wife and child a few weeks later.”
My nostrils flare, but I grind out. “I told you to shut up.”
Chance, Gunner—and a very winded Campbell—all jump forward a step as if to hold me back. But I don’t punch Ray yet. The way he’s shaking with laughter, this man has lost his marbles.
He stops laughing and goes deadly serious.
“She’s a murderer. If Cordelia hadn’t fought with Gwen, if she’d just said congratulations on being pregnant, none of this would have happened.
She wouldn’t have had those complications.
She wouldn’t have…” Ray’s face twists with grief. “I wouldn’t have lost my family.”
I can’t believe this is the vitriol Cordelia’s been subjected to since her sister died. The words must have cut into her soul. Especially since Ray genuinely seems to believe this nonsense.
Those tears, the anguish on his vermin-like face, they look real.
I shove him away, disgusted, and he goes flying into the bed.
“Cordelia’s not the one who disrespected your wife with another woman while she was pregnant.
You did that.” I point at him. “You, you piece of scum. You’re not worthy enough to be the chewing gum under Cordelia’s shoe.
You think heaping all the blame on her will save you?
You think it’ll ease that guilt gnawing away at your puny heart if you punish her? ”
Ray’s eyes almost pop out of his head.
I loom over him. “Cordelia’s not the reason you lost your wife. She’s not your punching bag, and she’s not your penance. Your days of playing mind games with her are over.”
I expect Ray to charge to his feet and throw a punch. In fact, I’m itching for it. If he throws the first punch, I can rearrange his face and call it self-defense.
But Ray remains on the edge of the bed, his shoulders hunched over. And I see, in that staunchly defeated pose, exactly why he lashed out at Cordelia. The guy’s a punk and a bully.
There’s no way he’ll fight me because he doesn’t fight people his own size.
“What am I supposed to do?” Ray wails like a spoiled brat. “How else do I see Gwen if I can’t see Delia?”
My chest rises and falls, and I step back in utter horror.
“She’s the reason Gwen is gone. You think I want to see her?” His eyes dart back and forth with manic energy. “But it’s like…she’s all I have left.”
I stare him down, my face set like stone.
Anger surges and builds, demanding its pound of flesh. For Cordelia’s sake. For her tender, tender heart’s sake.
I need this man to feel a quarter of the pain he inflicted on her.
The deadly silence in the room reverberates as I move forward. Chance, Campbell, and Gunner hang back. They won’t stop me. They’d probably join me.
I grab the broken man by the collar again and speak in a deliberately low tone. “She’s not Gwen.” I shake him. “And you lost the right to be in her world when you drove her away from her family and her life with lies.”
Ray’s arm flops down, and he stares at the ground as if he’s not here. Lifeless. Just like the wife and child he buried in their caskets.
Maybe if he wasn’t such vermin, I’d feel sorry for him.
Maybe.
But right now, all I want is to get my message into his thick skull. “Cordelia didn’t have anyone on her side when she left, but she’s in Lucky Falls now. She’s mine now. If you mess with her, you mess with me.”
“Me too,” Chance growls.
“And me,” Gunner snaps.
Campbell clears his throat. “S-same.”
I haul Ray by the front of his shirt and close the distance between us, my voice low and lethal. “Don’t mistake me holding back today as kindness. If you show up again thinking I wasn’t serious, you’ll regret it. I promise you.”
Ray swallows hard.
I step back, and as I’m about to move away, I notice the picture of Gwendolyn on the nightstand. Ray has been as deflated as a two-week-old balloon, but when I reach out to see the photo, he snatches it away and hugs it protectively to his chest.
I stare down at the pathetic, broken man. “Mourn your wife. Don’t torment her sister.”
A tear rolls down the man’s cheek.
“We clear?” I growl.
Ray nods shakily.
I stalk out of the room. Then I stall at the door and turn back. “And apologize to Cordelia.”
Chance, Gunner, and Campbell follow me out. I hear the door slam shut behind them.
“You really think he’s going to stay away?” Campbell asks as we start our slow trek down the stairs. This time, I make sure we go at a pace that he can keep up with. “Shouldn’t we get the police involved? File a restraining order?”
“The police only get involved if someone’s been hurt,” Gunner grumbles. “Don’t ask me how I know.”
“He won’t bother her again,” I say confidently.
“You can’t guarantee that.”
“No, I can’t.” I lift my chin, my chest expanding with a feeling of déjà vu. “But I can promise this…”
My voice warbles as I suddenly recall a memory from six years ago. It was the day my divorce was finalized. The day I held a seven-pound wailing baby in my arms and started my life from scratch again.
I looked into the face of the helpless infant who would, from that moment on, depend on me for everything—and I made the same promise to Gordie that I’m making to Cordelia now.
“…No matter what comes, she won’t ever be alone.”