Chapter 22
Byrdie
Vonn isn’t a slow driver, but Makhi definitely treats the ride back to the mansion as a race he didn’t tell Vonn about.
Vonn mutters a curse, smiling apologetically at me when I laugh.
It’s only when we get back that I discover something strange is going on.
No amount of blasting his truck's horn gets the reporters clogging the front of the Gabriel Mansion to move.
I keep wanting to hide my face behind my hands. Already, I’m slumped in my seat, twisting away from the blinding burst of light from too many, too-bright cameras angled our way.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
Vonn gives up on blasting his horn and revs his engine.
The reporters scatter.
Vonn presses the fob to open the front gates and leans out of his open window to yell. “Any of you try to follow, I have a gun in my glove compartment and I’m not afraid to use it on anyone stepping on private property.”
Vonn has always looked like an army vet. He has the shaved head, commanding voice, and a hard stare that warns he means what he says.
The reporters retreat to a safe distance to avoid being run over, and none of them attempt to follow us inside the front gate. I know because I never take my eyes off the rearview mirror until the gate shuts with a clang behind us. Only then do I turn to Vonn.
“Vonn, why are there a bunch of reporters at the gate?”
“Nash decided what he wanted to do with his dad’s diary,” he explains.
“And that thing involved reporters?” I ask, confused.
Makhi beat us to the house, but I knew he would.
He took off like a bullet from a gun. I don’t know how he got past the reporters, and a part of me doesn’t want to ask.
Vonn is the serious, patient one. It is far too easy to envision Makhi driving at the reporters in a game of chicken, forcing them to move.
He’s parked his bike near the front door and sits perched on the seat, though not astride it. His helmet is on the ground beside his feet with his arms crossed. He briefly uncrosses them to flash a smug smile and give us a cheery wave.
I look at him, and I cannot believe I had sex with him in a bush on the side of a road in broad daylight after someone shot at us.
The state of my panties are… messy. I probably smell of sex, and I do not feel as much shame as I should for having sex in public.
If it had happened soon after they brought me back from New Mexico, I’d assume I was suffering from heat stroke from hours wandering in the desert.
But no. I knew exactly what I was doing as I eagerly shoved my sweatpants down to my knees, not the least bit concerned about having sex at such a stupid time.
If we’d been in a horror movie, we for sure would have been the first ones to be taken out by the masked killer. We’d have deserved it too.
Makhi is handsome, I’ll give him that, and I am attracted to him, but that is just not normal behavior, right?
“Insane,” I mutter under my breath.
“Makhi’s driving?” Vonn says with a smile as he cuts the engine.
“Me.” I unbuckle my seatbelt. “A bush. Someone shooting at us. Sex.”
I turn to open my door, but Vonn’s soft, “hey,” makes me twist to face him.
He’s unbuckled his seatbelt and is looking at me with the same intensity he always does. Like no one exists in the world but me.
“I’ve lost count of the times I’ve considered wringing Makhi’s scrawny neck,” he says. “But I will happily wring it if he pushed you into something you weren’t ready for.”
“I can hear you,” Makhi calls out. “And my neck is actually not that scrawny. It’s not fat or anything, but it’s definitely not scrawny.”
We both ignore him.
“He didn’t push. I just stopped using my brain.” Knowing Makhi’s listening, I add, “He must be rubbing off on me.”
“Still hear you,” Makhi yells even louder, irritation creeping into his voice. “Just in case you thought I couldn’t, I can. Might wanna wind that window up. Sound carries.”
A muscle in Vonn’s jaw twitches, and I bite the inside of my cheek to contain my smile. “Thanks, Vonn.”
“For?”
“Always being what I need.” I kiss him. “And I still have your dog tags. I keep waiting for you to ask for them back.”
Probably before someone kills me, because it’s twice now that it’s nearly happened.
He kisses me. “You keep a hold of it for strength. What I get from you is so much sweeter.”
Every word out of this man’s mouth makes me melt.
“I’m very lucky to have you,” I say, cupping his stubbled jaw, and he leans into my touch.
“I’m the lucky one, darlin’.” He brushes his lips against mine. Ending the kiss too fast, he whispers loudly in my ear, “Want me to put my foot on the accelerator and pretend it was an accident?”
I laugh.
Makhi curses and in his rush to get his bike—and himself—out of the way of Vonn’s truck. He nearly tips his bike over, which only makes me bury my face against Vonn’s chest and laugh harder. It shouldn’t be that funny, but I feel a million times lighter once I’ve gotten my laughter out.
After Vonn helps Makhi take his bike and both helmets into the garage, we walk into the house and find Nance chopping in the kitchen and Nash sipping a cup of coffee at the dining table.
He sets his mug down, eyes filled with concern when he sees me. “Are you okay?”
“Fine.” My eyes widen with surprise, and I can’t help but smile when he gets up from the table and draws me into a deep hug. “Really, I’m fine.”
“I would have come with Vonn, but things got a little crazy around here.” Pulling back, he frames my face and gives me a searching look. “You look a little dusty.”
“They probably had to dive for their lives,” Nance says, a hand on her heart. “I’ll make some peppermint tea and cookies to get your sugar levels up. Sit down, Byrdie.”
No one has ever cared so much about me before. It feels like coming home to a family I always wished I had. “I’m okay, Nance. Makhi rolled us off the road into a bush.”
“For safety,” Makhi calls out, one hand raised as if expecting to get extra credit.
Vonn gives him a loaded look.
Makhi puts his hand down, sits back in his seat, and looks away from Vonn. Meanwhile, my cheeks burn because what we did in the bush had absolutely nothing to do with safety. When Nash’s glance at Makhi and me is followed by his eyebrow rising, he soon works it out.
“There was no sign of the shooter,” Vonn says before Nance can ask me a question I see burning in her eyes.
Nash leads me to the table and pushes my chair in after I’ve sat.
Nance walks over and presses a mug of peppermint tea into my hands. “It still needs to steep, but holding it should give you a bit of comfort. I’ll get started on a batch of chocolate chip cookies.”
Makhi lifts his hand from the seat next to mine. “And my tea, Nance?”
“You’re perfectly capable of making your own,” Nance says firmly. “You have enough energy to risk breaking your neck speeding on that bike, and disheveling Byrdie’s clothes in a bush.”
Nance has sharp eyes and sharper instincts. She terrifies me sometimes.
Blushing, I lift my mug to my mouth, wishing it were bigger to hide my hot face.
But despite Nance telling Makhi he should make his own tea, she returns to set a mug down in front of him. “Here. And no more speeding on that bike. You’re too young to wrap yourself around a tree.”
“Thanks, old bird,” he says fondly.
She reaches for the mug, and he grabs it before she can take it back.
“Trouble,” she tells him.
“But oh so lovable?” He makes puppy-dog eyes at her.
Shaking her head at him, she walks to the pantry and gathers ingredients to make chocolate chip cookies.
“Should we tell the sheriff about the shooting?” I ask Vonn. “I know he doesn’t like any of you, but maybe he’ll send the deputy to investigate.”
“No need to worry about coming up with a solution to that right now,” Vonn says.
I stare at him as if he’s lost his mind. “But someone shot at us.”
“And we’ll figure it out,” he says calmly.
Nance is whistling as she mixes cookie dough.
Nance never whistles.
She was concerned about Makhi and me, even though she tried to hide her concern about Makhi. Now that she knows we’re okay, her mood has improved substantially.
Why?
I lean toward Nash, asking quietly, “Why is Nance so happy?”
“Mount Everest crushed Marcus Gabriel,” Nance declares from the kitchen, proving she has sharp hearing to go along with her sharp eyes and instincts.
Confused, I bounce my gaze between Nance and Nash. “He died?”
Maybe that’s why all the reporters were gathered outside. One suspicious murder is bad. A second one made the national news.
“I decided against using the diary to blackmail my uncle,” Nash explains.
“Yeah, I’m not sure I agree with that,” Makhi says. When Nash opens his mouth, probably to complain, Makhi adds. “But you have to do what’s best for you. And you’re a better man than I am. I like being petty.”
“What did you do with it?” I take a sip of my peppermint tea. It’s sweet, hot and calming. Exactly what I needed.
“Shared it,” Nash says.
“With?” I ask.
“Everyone.”
I blink at him. “Everyone?”
“This morning, I scanned the diary, uploaded it, and emailed it to the FBI and to every news channel and reporter I could think of.”
I put my cup down before I drop it. “What?”
“The FBI turned up to arrest him for rape. That was bad in and of itself. Then the FBI searched his house and found documents linking him to payments he’d made to the sheriff.
The FBI then arrested the sheriff and his deputy for corruption.
Right now, the FBI is in charge of the sheriff’s department until a new sheriff can take over. ”
My jaw drops. “All because of your dad’s diary?”
Nash nods. “There was a lot of incriminating evidence in the diary. Once they speak to the women involved in the crimes, and I can’t see any of them keeping quiet after they were hushed up and forced out of town, a reckoning is coming to Massey.”
I take his hand and squeeze. “But that means everyone knows about your dad hurting you.”
He squeezes my hand back. “All that pain and hurt has been rotting inside me for years. It’s time to get it out, and it’s time to move on.”
After we finish our drinks, we head into town for Nash to meet with his attorney at the sheriff’s department and give a formal statement to the FBI.
It’s busier in town than I thought it would be. I guess with the FBI turning up and arresting the mayor and the sheriff, everyone has decided to be nosy.
Vonn holds the door open for me, and as I get out of the car, I realize everyone is staring. This isn’t the hard, suspicious stare of someone mentally making the sign of the cross or about to go looking for holy water to fling in someone’s face.
The townsfolk are looking at Nash, Vonn, and Makhi, and they seem almost… embarrassed.
A man clears his throat.
I turn to find a man wearing a green apron and a sheepish expression standing near Nash. It’s the owner of the grocery store who warned me to stay away from the Gabriel Mansion.
With an embarrassed smile, he holds his hand out to Nash. “I, uh, owe you an apology for a lot of things. Mainly for listening to gossip and rumors. If you don’t want to accept, I understand, but—”
Nash takes his hand and shakes it. “When the mayor is the one spreading those rumors, it’s hard not to listen. I accept.”
“Maybe leave my handshake for another time. I’m not exactly in a rush to forgive and forget,” Makhi mutters.
I lower my head to hide my smile.
Vonn shakes the grocery store owner's hand when he makes the same apology to him, and one by one, the rest of the locals approach with sheepish smiles and apologies of their own.