Chapter 2
Memphis inhaled the pleasing clean and crisp woodsy notes of soap when the gorgeous angry man came into physical contact with her as he stomped to the shop.
Electricity sizzled where his skin had touched hers. What the hell? How could a stranger make her burn?
She had taken in his above average height and the ripple of corded muscle beneath the generously inked skin. Noticed how there wasn’t an ounce of extra fat anywhere on his breathtaking form.
She observed how his manhood had reacted to her appearance. It was impressive. Her girly parts responded immediately, very much willing if the situation presented itself.
His dark eyes flashed with interest, then became wary at the mention of Gray Wolf, evolving to a flat black as he told her to leave.
That went well. Not. Shit. What to do now? I need his help, I think.He knows something. She checked in with her gut. Affirmative.
She studied the simple sign above the door: Cabrera’s. Was he Cabrera? He told her to get off his property, so yes. Did he know the Gray Wolf?
Her father’s description was of a brother from thirty years earlier. “Long, some gray in that dark hair of his, taller than me, and husky, solid muscle, built like a boxer. Women considered him a catch. So handsome, I guess. You knowing his alias should open the door, but take a copy of your birth certificate and an ID. The man I knew was cautious.” He had not given her a name other than that, and he was very specific on how to approach the man once she found him. Thanks, Pops.
Eben hung back in the corner of ICU room. She assumed he was uncomfortable but not wanting to leave for fear of missing something.
Pops motioned him over. “I need to say a few words to your sister. Alone. I love you, son. Please follow my wishes for the ranch.”
“I’ll do my best. Love you too, Pops.” He planted a chaste kiss on their father’s forehead then shot Memphis a stern look before leaving.
The door clicked shut behind him. Their relationship had always been rocky. She pulled a chair close to hear her father’s breathy words.
“It’s a dicey situation, Memphis. Your brother and Arla got engaged last night.”
Her stomach sank. “Oh.” Even though she thought it might happen, Memphis wasn’t prepared for the reality of it.
“It’s the making of a nightmare. Trey Rooney has always wanted Creed Ranch, especially now that an oil deposit has been located on our land.”
It wasn’t just a deposit. It was potentially worth billions. “I know, Pops.”
“You’re vulnerable, even with the will in place and how the trust is set up. You and Eben don’t see eye-to-eye on much, and now he’s engaged to our nemesis’s daughter. On top of that, he runs with the Rooney crowd. It could get to a point where Arla pressures your brother to take you to court. I think it will.”
“Pops—”
“Let me finish, sweetheart,” he said kindly. “Arla’s the apple of her daddy’s eye, and he wants our land. Trey Rooney has the larger spread, far more resources, and long-held connections. You’re going to need help to hang onto what’s ours. I love Eben, but he is easily led by Arla, and she makes him wishy-washy. I’ve seen how she’s manipulated him. How he’s pulled away more from us since she went after him. He thinks it’s love, but it’s all business to a Rooney. I see it in her eyes. It’s not the look you give someone you love. It’s the smugness of someone who has an agenda.” He paused, breathing laboriously.
“Pops!” She reached for the call button.
“No, sweetheart. This is just you and me time. I’ve got something else to tell you. Please. Give me a minute.” The whisper of machines and his labored breathing were loud during the minutes of silence. “How about a sip of water?”
Memphis scooted the chair against the bed, mindful of the tubes, and brought the straw to his mouth. One sip was a struggle, and that’s all he seemed to want. She sat quietly, frantically watching her father, his eyes closed, holding on to life with steely determination. She took a frail hand in both of hers, caressing the papery skin with feathery touches, noticing for the umpteenth time how cancer had aged him by decades.
Ransom Creed had been bigger than life. A tenacious warrior who weighed the consequences before acting. A man who had come from nothing, created a home and family in Texas, and made his wife’s parents’ ranch profitable after taking it over. A man who had married the love of his life and then lost her during the birth of their son. A quiet man full of grit and integrity.
Even though Memphis was an adult, she still needed him. Don’t let go. Please. She wiped the tears away. Pops didn’t like crying.
He opened his eyes and locked them on hers. “Daughter, I’m asking for assistance from a brother who I fell out of contact with before you were born. I have faith that he’ll do the right thing and convince our family and friends to do the same. As capable as you are, I doubt you’ll be able to hold onto the ranch unless you have help.”
“What? Family?” Her father had never mentioned family, only that he had been on his own and driving aimlessly looking for a place to pitch his tent when he met her mama at a campground in Tennessee.
“I’m too tired to explain it all. And my past.” He gripped her hand tightly and she returned the pressure. “I’m a better man for having met Lindy, for being your dad and Eben’s. God blessed me.”
“Pops!” She cried, understanding he was slipping away.
“Remember. You do love your brother. Try to find your way back to him, to like him. Someday he’s going to need you, especially if he follows through with this marriage. You’ll need him, too. Don’t make the same mistake I did when I was younger. Family comes first.” Ransom encouraged Memphis closer and whispered in her ear, giving her the last of his instructions. “Do you understand?” His eyes searched hers, full of pleading.
She sat up, nodding fervently and wiping angrily at another tear.
“Don’t cry for me, Memphis. You look so much like Lindy. You’re strong like she was.”
“And you, Pops.” She whispered; her throat burned with the burgeoning tears. She had no memories of her mother.
“And me. You have our fire. Embrace it.” His eyes looked deeply into hers. “You’re gonna be alright. I love you so much, my sweet girl.” He smiled serenely, slowly closed his eyes, and exhaled his last breath.
Machine alarms went off. Medical personnel rushed into the room. She faded to the wall, her fist in front of her mouth, disbelieving what she was witnessing. The doctors and nurses worked furiously and then stopped. Ransom Creed had passed.
A male nurse turned to her. His eyes were full of compassion. “I’m sorry. He’s gone.
Sobbing and hiccupping, Memphis staggered out to the hall, into the elevator, to the main floor of the hospital, and then outside.
Eben’s car was not where it had been parked. They had arrived together, but he hadn’t stuck around. Pops wasn’t asking you to leave, just step out, Eben. She would bum a ride—hell, she knew just about everyone in the county as well as a number of residents in the city of Massy—after walking and emptying some of her grief.
A small, private service was held, and his cremated remains were next to their mother under the shade of the trees on Witness Hill. It was there that Memphis had often watched sunsets and sunrises, enjoyed many picnics with Pops and Eben, learned to whistle with and without a blade of grass, and pondered over the heart that held Lindy Fuller-Creed + Ransom Creed within it. Carved into thick trunk of the Witness Tree all those years ago, it was still visible.
“It was one of the first things your mama and I did when we inherited the ranch.” Pops ruminated every so often, his voice cracking and eyes misting.
Three months after Pops joined Mama, Memphis packed her things into Ransom’s GTO, now hers, and high-tailed it out of Texas, leaving during an epic storm that matched her mood. She was on her own, tasked by her father to reach out to a total stranger in a town she had never heard of and hopefully secure her future and that of Creed Ranch.
* * *
The journey to Torch River had been long and uneventful. A woman named Rose at Daphne’s Diner sent her to Cabrera’s when she said she was looking for a “lady-killer, with dark hair and a beard streaked with gray.” She felt uncomfortable using the description, but those were the exact words Pops insisted she use.
In reality, the guy’s hair and beard were almost all salt, with what pepper he had filling the mustache and the soul patch area. Thick dark brows framed delicious dark brown eyes. And that body … Her mind seemed to be fixated on it and his strong-looking hands that could probably make her shatter over and over. She shivered. Stop it. You’re on a mission. Not here to get laid.
Memphis pivoted on her heel, strode to the building, and raised her hand to knock when the door yanked open. She hadn’t even heard the click of a lock and stutter-jumped back. Too quickly, taking a nice tumble onto the filthy wood floor of the covered entry. “Dammit.” She smacked her hands together, trying to clean the dirt off, while taking stock of her body. No injuries other than a bruised ego, and maybe her ass.
The man she assumed was Cabrera towered there, the deep-throated rumbling making him shake. The telltale heat bloomed in her chest and rushed up her neck to her face. Great.
He swiped a hand across eyes full of mirth, then extended it, moving toward her slowly, chuckling as he pulled her to her feet. “What a fucking beautiful mess you are, Memphis Creed.”
“I came to talk.”
“Not now. My day is full.”
“But—”
His demeanor changed like lightning and the handsome face shuttered. She blinked, grabbed a post supporting the covered stoop, and curled inward in a protective posture.
“Another time. Another place. I’m not in the mood to dredge up the past. Look. I’m not gonna hurt you, or touch you,” he said, his low tone adding more warning than the spoken words.
Pissed, she sneered. “You just did.”
“Seriously? I should have left you on your ass.” Tsk-tsk. He shook his head. “You don’t want to threaten me. Cameras are recording this interaction. Go in. Clean up. I’ll stay out here until you leave. You’ve two minutes.”
She fumed in the surprisingly clean and organized bathroom while making herself presentable. Damn him. What a mercurial fucker. She suppressed a shiver and washed her hands in haste.
It was an effort, but she feigned composure as she walked away, sensing that he watched her trek to the fully restored ’68 GTO. She didn’t dare look over her shoulder or in the rearview mirror once seated on the ivory leather bucket seat. Irritated, she fastened the lap belt, curled her left fingers around the woodgrain steering wheel, and turned the key. Ignition a go, she reached and spun the volume knob. Too much. Steppenwolf’s “Born to be Wild” blasted from the speakers as she punched the gas. The muscle car responded, spitting gravel behind it as she pulled onto the main road.
She turned the music off, pulling her hand back as if the knob burned. Despite no longer being in the presence of Cabrera, she felt so … juvenile, Memphis drove north until she saw a large bridge that spanned the river to an elevated section of Torch River to her right. She would have exited onto the bridge if the sign bearing Founders Park hadn’t appeared first, its deep shade beckoning.
What now? She needed help. Trey Rooney smelled the blood in the water and a chance to acquire their ranch and the revenue from the oil deposit through the marriage of Eben to his daughter Arla. Take a break and regroup.
Curious what the town was like on the other side of the river, she drove across the beautiful bridge. Whereas the area she had driven from was primarily at river level, this section soared above it, so different from the rural feel of the other side where she spoke to Rose at Daphne’s Diner and the man at Cabrera’s. A totally different vibe. Upscale and chic, it proudly displayed its abundant wealth. Also of notice was that the marina and club she passed before taking the bridge bore the name Founders, just like the park she had stopped in. Interesting. There was a story here, maybe more than one.
She lunched outdoors at the Overlook, under a pergola fitted with fans. Her small table had an unobstructed view of a river that was hemmed in by lush green trees and understory and rock formations. The salmon salad was wonderful.
Laughter caught her attention. She peered over the rail. Below was a beach filled with kids and families, reminding her of lazy afternoons spent at Shards Creek on the ranch. What fun she had with Pops and Eben, and later with friends and boyfriends at the tributary that meandered through the ranch. It seemed so long ago.
She looked across the river. The lowland area was hidden by the thick trees and foliage. The Torch divided the town, calling attention to its dichotomy. She was eager to get back to the other side and the task Pops had given her. And she wanted answers about the estrangement.
Not knowing how long she would be in Torch River, Memphis bypassed getting a room at a tonier hotel or at one of the chains on the outskirts of the town. She reserved a suite at the Smugglers Inn, blocks from Daphne’s Diner. The inn’s brief and colorful history on its “About” page drew her in. It also reminded her of home.
Pleasantly full and lulled into a peaceful state by the river, Memphis drove back, the hoity-toity vibe vanishing into an unassuming densely wooded, small town feel as she excited the bridge. She passed a marker that read Welcome to the Narrows. Was there one at its southern boundary, too? Probably. Enthralled by the stunning surroundings and wondering about her father’s connection to a place and people he had never mentioned, she found herself veering off the shoulder several times.