Chapter 8 #2
He nodded in agreement and stepped out to join her.
“It took a lot of work. We built everything but the house and barn ourselves, albeit with the help of an architect and a construction boss,” he granted, and she realized he looked so much lighter than he had in town. This wilderness seemed to fit him.
“Do you ever go back to your old place?” she asked, referring to the home he’d been raised in on the other side of Rimrock Creek.
He shook his head. “Nah, it was just a rental. While I love my parents, and I love them for making this life for us here in the village, that place never really held me.”
“And yet you moved back,” she said.
“I’ve always loved the land, and no matter where I was in the world, I thought of it,” he said. “What I didn’t miss were the theatrics and small-town nonsense. Luckily, out here we’re pretty insulated from it.”
“Now that I understand,” she said with a smile. “I had to jump through a lot of hoops to get people to accept the fact that I was changing The Menagerie, and even then it took two months of free coffee and pastries for them to even walk across the threshold.”
“But now it’s better?” he asked.
“You saw Otis yesterday,” she said with a grin. “You know how much of an accomplishment that is, especially the explaining he’s gonna have to do when Addie finds out.”
“Are you two still at it?” Walker asked with that mystified air of a man who didn’t understand female rivalries.
“I don’t know that we’re still at it. I really don’t have time for silliness, especially over a man. That year was the one time I was happy to leave here, even as it broke my heart,” she said.
He looked a bit affronted, and she hurried to amend her statement. “Not because I left you, you dumbass,” she said. “Because she was being a bitch, and I got more than enough of that at school in D.C. I didn’t need it here too.”
“Well, at least it wasn’t me,” he said straight faced. “I don’t know if my manly pride could have handled anything else.”
She lightly punched him on the shoulder, glad that they could talk about the past with the levity it deserved, rather than it being uncomfortable or awkward.
“What’s for dinner? I’m starving.”
“It would be much better if Hunter was here,” Quentin said mournfully as he took a bite of his pork chop.
“It’s delicious,” Serena said, defending Walker’s honor, as he’d been tonight’s chef. It was, in fact, pretty good. “But you’ll have to invite me out when he’s here,” she said with a grin. “So I can compare and contrast.”
Quentin was an interesting man, she thought as she studied him. He was average in almost every way. Average build, shaggy brown hair two weeks past a cut, brown eyes clear and intelligent behind old-school horn-rimmed glasses.
If she passed him on the street, she’d never have looked twice.
He obviously took no shit from Walker but gave his friend a subtle deference. She wondered if Walker had been his boss in the military, but that’d been a long time ago, even if that were the case.
They jabbed good naturedly back and forth over the meal, with Kujo watching the byplay with quiet scrutiny.
When dinner was over, Serena helped with the dishes, over the men's objections, then settled in to listen to them talk about their new venture. Walker had made no mention of her butting out, so she tagged along as they crossed the gravel parking area to the bunkhouse.
"I like what I've seen so far," Kujo said. "Quentin's got your comms tight."
Walker pushed open the bunkhouse door for Serena and the two men followed.
She didn't know what she'd expected, but it wasn't this.
It was clean, bright, with a conference table taking a third of the right half of the room.
At the opposite end were two queen beds and a bunkbed.
A small kitchenette reminiscent of her own was tucked into one corner, and she could see a full bathroom through the partially open door.
In the center of the room a comfy couch was positioned in front of a massive television that dominated one wall--because of course it did. Men were so predictable.
"What's back there?" she asked, pointing to a heavy looking door behind the conference table. It was half-hidden by a partially retracted wall panel and didn't appear to be another bathroom.
"Armory and network hub," Walker said, and led them to it. He pressed a palm to a flat screen that resembled a tablet and after a moment it went green and the door thunked, then nudged open.
"That's fancy," Serena said, not sure exactly what to make of any of this. But she was in receive mode and didn't want to ask a bunch of dumb questions when the answers might be forthcoming.
"It's basic," Quentin said quietly. “Everyone thought I was going overboard until the attack."
Kujo was surveying the room, and he appeared satisfied, so he turned to the two other men. "Tell me about that day."
Walker bristled a bit, there was no other way to describe it, then answered.
"Our teammate, Tate Lyons, was using the ranch as a secure location for a federal witness.
You may have heard about it. Andy Benedict, the casino owner, brought a team of mercenaries up here and tried to kill both Tate and his protectee, Beth Drake.
"Quentin's security and Tate's defensive measures basically stopped them in their tracks, until only a few of the team were left, and Tate took care of that."
Kujo's expression went blank as he studied Quentin and Walker. What was he thinking?
"Took care of them how?" Kujo asked.
Walker stared right back at him and Serena knew a pissing contest when she saw one, but Walker answered, his voice tight. "Nonlethal measures. No fatalities."
Kujo's shoulders relaxed and he relented a bit. "I have to ask, you know that. We only knew what we read online and it wasn't much."
Walker's stance went easy again. "I'm pretty sure Taylor had something to do with that," he said. "He obviously knows a lot of people, has a lot of influence."
Kujo rested a hip against the conference table, his expression considering.
His gaze flitted to Serena, then back to Walker, as if he were deciding to speak while she was present.
"McCullough does have a lot of clout," he finally said, seeming to choose his words.
"That can come in handy, or it can be abused. "
The man seemed intent on poking at Walker, Serena thought.
Her first response was to rise to her friend's defense, but if there was going to be a partnership between the two men, she didn't need or want to be in the middle of it.
She wandered over to the little kitchenette and looked out the window, seemingly uninterested, but still within earshot.
"That's a line we've successfully walked for almost ten years," Walker replied. "I trusted Taylor with my life then, and I trust him with it now. Never mind business or reputation. I trust him with my life," he repeated.
Quentin began speaking. Serena had almost forgotten he was there, he was so quiet.
"He'd never do anything illegal. He has too much honor for that. I helped him diminish the ranch's footprint when it came to the news. Again, not illegally, simply using the tools at our disposal. Until now, until this potential partnership with the Brotherhood Protectors, we've been a place of healing for veterans. That goes a long way with reputable news outlets, especially when you ask them to focus on the villain and not the victims. As we all know, scandals sell better than good news. They were more than happy to go after Benedict and leave us alone for the most part. The more sensational publications still show up now and again, if it’s a slow news day and they’ve got a stringer in the area, but they never get more than wilderness footage.”
Serena was mesmerized by the cadence of his voice, which was a bit raspy, as if he didn't use it often. But there was a hint of melody beneath the gravel and it piqued her interest.
His words regarding McCullough had been matter-of-fact, almost daring Kujo to contradict him. She watched the byplay with narrowed eyes. Because if Kujo didn't back her friend and the ranch, then she was going to dislike him very much.
Instead he nodded, a smile tipping his lips.
"That's exactly the answer I wanted to hear.
" He held out a hand to Walker, shook, and then turned to Quentin and did the same.
"It's my recommendation that Hank green light you, and he's never discounted my thoughts.
Can we take some time tomorrow to get you logged into our networks?
" he asked Quentin, and Serena breathed a sigh of relief.
"Given the setup you've got here, it shouldn't take us long, and just in time too. It looks like you already have a case to work.”
All eyes turned to her.
She'd spent a professional lifetime with men's gazes on her, whether it was as the subject-matter expert for their PR problems, or as the it-girl of the day, sent in to soften up a client with her looks and her charm.
The second had been the most distasteful part of the job, one she'd been more than happy to leave behind.
So it surprised her that having these three men looking at her as a project was disconcerting. "Isn't Garrett supposed to be figuring that out?" she asked, not entirely sure where Kujo was going with the suggestion.
"Sure," Walker said, falling into the conversation as if he and Kujo had already discussed it, though she was pretty sure they hadn’t. "But we've got the time and resources he doesn't." He shrugged. “There are folks who won't talk to the law, but will to me."
That made sense. Sort of. "Okay, but why? I mean, I still think it was a simple break-in, regardless of Garrett’s caution. The guy got freaked out and hit me, then searched but when didn't find what he was looking for he left."
Walker's face went serious. "What about your back door? I think it’s connected. It happens to be a much, much better lock than the front door."