Chapter Nine
Find the bodies? Jory repeated to herself, stunned.
Not an order but a question. Why had Calhoun phrased it like that? He wasn’t a high school girl who turned statements into interrogatives squeaking up at the end of each sentence.
But Jory hadn’t been able to quiz him any more that shift. She’d had more admissions from the ER, and another patient who’d had an emergency appendectomy. Being busy had helped to keep her mind off the potential ramifications of Calhoun’s words.
Find the bodies?
Maybe Jace hadn’t been sure?
But why had he thought there’d be bodies? And whose? And when had he found the medallion? And why had none of the McBrides come forward twenty-three years ago with any suspicions of foul play?
Foul play.
It sounded like a mystery novel, not her life.
But when her father and brother had taken off, it seemed like eventually the whole town knew, and had drawn the conclusion that Jesse Quinn was with a woman or gambling his way across the country.
No one had taken her mother’s concerns seriously—especially not the police or the sheriff’s office.
Never once had Jory heard anything that intimated that her father and brother had been killed and buried.
She shivered.
She’d checked on Calhoun through the night, taking his vitals because Rhianna had been freaked out by the dog’s focused stare, and Jory hadn’t minded because if Calhoun woke, she wanted to ask more questions, though she wasn’t sure where she would begin.
And now she had a dilemma.
She was off shift. Calhoun would probably be released today as he’d push, push, push to get out of the hospital and his former…what had he called them…Coyote Cowboys would help him. The brotherhood. Just thinking that made her feel more alone. But that likely accounted for the huge coyote in hunt mode he had over one pectoral and across his shoulder that she’d—
Jory cut off that thought. Her lusty explorations of Calhoun’s body needed to remain in her vault of memories.
But now she couldn’t just let him drive down Highway89 like she’d intended. He might have information she could use to keep searching for her brother. She’d started doing social media searches in college—only setting up her own sites hoping Josiah would be looking.
But he hadn’t.
And maybe he’d never really left Marietta.
No, she was going to have to get more information from Calhoun. If he intended to track down the mystery of her father and brother’s disappearing act, she intended to be by his side.
She debriefed her colleagues, and then hesitated. Should she change into street clothes—meet with Calhoun as Jory or as Dr. Quinn?
And while she nibbled her lip in indecision, Rohan arrived at the nursing station well before normal visiting hours.
“Hey, Jory, can I talk to you, real quick?”
“Yes, but I can’t discuss Cal…Mr. Miller’s case with you.”
Rohan grinned. “That big lug is bulletproof, and no he’s not going to follow doctor’s orders, but I have a plan that might keep him minimally contained.”
“That sounds as if you’re skirting legal limits.”
Rohan laughed, and the nurses who were entering for their shifts as the others prepared to leave all looked up, and Jory felt like she’d been doing something unprofessional, but Rohan waved his hat in the air that he’d likely taken off when he’d entered the hospital.
“Ladies, gentlemen,” he said expansively. “Thank you all for your skill and service to the community of Marietta.”
“Rohan, are you going to challenge Chelsea Collier Flint for mayor in the next election?” Rhianna teased. “Bye, Dr. J, see you tonight.”
Jory waved and smiled wanly, wondering if she should object to the nickname. It sounded cute, not professional, but it also seemed like a sign of acceptance and though she was only here for a couple of months, her worried heart warmed a little.
“I wanted to nail down if you’ve decided for sure if you plan to stay at the house for the duration of your time in Marietta?”
She nibbled on her lip. How much did Rohan know about Calhoun’s plans or his task? He too must have had to do something, and curiosity stirred.
“You said you had some things you wanted to sort through,” Rohan reminded her as if she might forget she was supposed to dig through her past.
He looked so appealing, as if he wanted her to take the house, but why? And then she wondered if he was maybe wanting it for Calhoun’s recovery.
No way. Her heart jumped into her throat.
But he was no longer a patient.
And he wasn’t in any shape for a repeat performance.
Am I?
The night with Calhoun had woken something in her that she wanted to go back to sleep. She didn’t want to crave a man. Wait for him to call or come home. Her father’s disappearance had devastated her mother. She’d had to prop up colleagues who’d lost their sense of purpose when heartbreak hit.
She couldn’t risk financial future or heartbreak just for good sex—even excellent sex.
“Sorry to hit you with this now, Jory.” Rohan looked sincere, but he smiled, full of confidence. “You’re probably exhausted after a long shift. I just wanted to get Calhoun somewhat settled so he doesn’t overdo it, but I’d have better luck keeping the sun from rising.”
He did want Calhoun to stay at the house with her.
Her stupid heart leapt, and her hormones practically gushed.
Stand down.
Jory pulled her attention away from her own troubled doubts and focused on Rohan. He looked really worried about his friend, and she felt like she’d split open wider. No one had ever worried about her since Josiah and her father had disappeared.
And she was surprised that she felt a stab of disappointment that she wouldn’t be staying at her old house—ridiculous because the Graff was really too expensive, and she felt too shaken to launch a temporary apartment hunt. Maybe the hospital could help.
“Rohan, it’s your father’s house now. Of course your friend can stay there. But he probably shouldn’t be alone for at least a few days. He’s showing no signs of infection, but…”
“Exactly,” Rohan verbally pounced. “He shouldn’t be alone, and so I was thinking that if you’d decided the house suited, you both could be roomies. Calhoun could recover. He’s got something to do for a friend,” Rohan said evasively, “and my dad is hoping for his help on something for the ranch when he’s back to one hundred percent, so he’d be gone during the day once he’s healed up, and you’d be gone most nights.”
But not all.
Why was that her first thought? She had no idea she had such a lusty libido. She stared at Rohan, trying to think of an objection, but she was picturing Calhoun lounging shirtless on the couch, and her mind just spun and spun, and her mouth dried, but the rest of her went liquid.
“It sounds great to you too.” Rohan slapped his hands together, and she jumped. “Perfect. You put my mind at ease. We’ll get Calhoun moved in when he’s sprung. Let me know if you need help moving. The brothers will do a grocery run for y’all—the least we can do. Food preferences?”
His words rushed over her like an open fire hose, and she was surprised he didn’t pull a pen out of someplace on his body and start taking notes.
“Wait. What?”
“Win-win.” Rohan smiled, and she had a dirty suspicion that when he used that smile, pretty much no one said no to him.
“But I didn’t say yes,” she objected.
“Say yes.”
She opened her mouth to say no. She had reasons. A lot. But Calhoun might have answers she needed. And her lifelong frugality was shouting the word ‘yes.’ It wasn’t like she was what her oma called a ‘hot dish’ that Calhoun would want to take bites of.
“I’ll think about it,” she tempered her reply, but Rohan’s green eyes flared.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
*
Calhoun snapped theleash on Kai before he steeled himself to exit Rohan’s truck. He hated that he had to concentrate to maneuver his large body out of the truck. Worse, he mentally counted the steps to the small farmhouse, and it seemed far away. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this weak. He was exhausted just from the drive from the hospital, and he ached like he’d gone on a twenty-mile run across sand with a full pack. He hated it more that Ryder had felt the need to follow them out of town, fifteen minutes on the highway and then another twenty on several gravel roads. The last one rose up into the foothills of the Absaroka Mountains.
But the hardest to take was leashing Kai because they weren’t on a mission, and Calhoun felt like he should have total confidence that he could control Kai, but yesterday when Kai had launched out of the window it had shaken his confidence.
And now Rohan was driving him out to the northernmost area of the ranch where they’d soon be moving their herds to summer grazing. He said there was a farmhouse, and he had what Calhoun suspected was a pity job offer. Ryder followed, driving Calhoun’s truck, and Calhoun suspected, determined to ensure that Kai settled into the new digs.
He had no intention of becoming a project or a burden on his brothers, but he hadn’t imagined the turn of the twentieth-century farmhouse would be so appealing. Small. Rustic. Clean lines. Wide covered wraparound porch. Huge oak tree providing shade and a windbreak and what looked like a large back patio with part of it covered. Two barns in the same white and green squatted as if waiting for approval.
“I can bunk in town,” he said, but he didn’t want to do that to Kai. Charity was hard to swallow, though, yet he was loath to tell his brothers about his trust fund. It sounded arrogant AF and would forever drive a wedge between them—othering him like he’d been othered all his life until he’d graduated West Point with honors and then had taken a different direction with his military service.
“No need,” Rohan said. “My dad wants a presence on this part of the ranch. A caretaker to keep an eye on the cattle, the fences, the wildlife. Someone who can handle some isolation. We have drones, but cattle rustling is always a threat.”
Calhoun shot him a look, seething with Rohan’s reasoning. “Isn’t rustling high tech now—done on a computer rather than cutting fences?” He thought back to his father’s ranch, and it had been years ago since he’d been involved. “Animals just don’t get loaded up at point A or unloaded at point B or entered into the finance system.”
“Yes, but not always. Seriously, Calhoun, you’re doing us a favor. A small salary comes with the caretaking along with a place to live, and when you’re at full strength, we have plenty of need for assistance on the ranch during spring, summer and fall.”
Rohan cleared his throat. “Also, the Coyotes and I have a business proposition when you’re feeling more yourself.”
If he didn’t lie down soon, he was going to hurl. His stupidity yesterday was seriously humbling him, and he wanted to be alone to pull himself together. His ribs ached as did his right hip. Even his shins hurt, and he couldn’t draw a deep breath.
Look at him like some delicate Victorian miss with the vapors needing a fainting couch. He despised weakness. It bit too close to the bone and reminded him of his father.
“I’m paying rent,” he grit out.
“You can rock paper scissors Jory for who’s going to pay. She’s as stubborn and proud as you.”
“Jory?”
WTF?
“I’m not auditioning for whatever Montana bachelor auction you Montana idiots are rockin’,” he said, stung by their clumsy attempts to set him up so he was ball-and-chained like they were.
“Who am I to fight fate?” Rohan grinned.
Ryder carried Calhoun’s duffel bags into the house as if they weighed nothing, and Calhoun’s anger at his body’s weakness hit like a rogue wave, nearly taking him down.
Kai sat beside him, attention on his face, and he schooled his features, and tried to draw deeper breaths to calm himself, even though his right lung screamed in protest.
At least Kai hadn’t attempted to follow Ryder.
God, I’m jealous of Ryder’s closeness with Kai.
When he should be grateful.
A cloud of dust appeared down the road.
“Our cue to leave. Good luck, brother,” Rohan lightly squeezed his shoulder. Even that screamed invalid.
Ryder sauntered out of the house. “This is a sweet setup,” Ryder enthused, his long stride eating up the distance. “Is the barn finished too?”
“We’ll talk about that later,” Rohan said, his voice a little cool, but Calhoun was hurting too much to pursue it now. Plus, he was seething at his brothers’ clumsy attempts at a setup.
His life was as far from a rom-com as a man could get.
“You need help into the house?” Rohan asked as the three men and Kai tracked the approaching cloud of dust.
“No.”
“Don’t be so pissy,” Ryder advised, not fazed by Calhoun’s ’tude. “This will be solid practice to blow a little dust off your very dusty wooing skills.”
“My what?”
“Exactly.”
“Is Jory really coming?” How’d they persuaded her? She seemed as keen to forget their one-night stand as he was.
“That’s up to you.” Ryder slapped him on the back and he staggered.
He bit back an F-bomb, not wanting Ryder and Rohan to know how much he hurt and how much they were getting to him. They’d never leave. And all he wanted was to be alone with Kai.
“Behold destiny,” Rohan intoned as Jory in a dusty—practically vintage—Subaru pulled to a stop next to Calhoun’s truck. She peered at them through her windshield, eyes wide.
“It’s a beautiful morning to embrace your future,” Ryder said. “You’re welcome.”
*
It’s not likeshe had a choice.
Not a true one. Jory turned off the engine of her Subaru Sport, and tried to keep her expression neutral.
Three men and a lethal dog blocked a path to the house as if she was the uninvited guest in her childhood home.
She rolled down her window, her gaze drinking him in when she really should be eyeing the alert dog at his side.
“You still have a death wish? You should be in bed.”
“Our work here is done.” Ryder laughed and high-fived Rohan like the idiots were still in high school.
Jory scowled and tried to look tough as she got out of her car.
Calhoun’s gaze could only be described as locked and loaded and yes, guilty as charged. She’d read way too many cowboy and military romances growing up.
“Hit the road, boys. Jory and I need to talk.”
She expected a snappy comeback. Maybe Calhoun got one as Ryder saluted before he squatted beside Kai, stroked him while looking deep into his eyes and talking softly.
That gave her a moment to get her game face on—she hoped.
“Let’s talk,” she said after his two friends drove off.
“I’m listening.”
She was supposed to start? The irony of a man truly prepared to listen, and she didn’t have the nerve to say what she was really thinking. Okay then.
“Grey’s and the Graff was still a one-off. I’m your doctor. I’ve worked too hard to achieve my skills and training. My career is all I’ve got, all I might ever have, and lust is not going to derail me.” She drew in a deep breath.
“Agreed.”
She blinked. She had more to say about her brother and trying to find out where he was, and his quick acquiescence threw her.
“To what part?”
“What happened at the Graff stays at the Graff.”
“Like Vegas.” She nodded her head and plunged on. “And I want to know…”
“But you are not my doctor here. You aren’t in charge of this mission.”
“Mission?”
His cut and tatted arms had been crossed as she’d spoken to him, but now he uncrossed them and held out one palm, the metal glittered in the mid-morning sun, mocking her, reminding her that her great-grandfather had been a man who dreamed big for his family. But failed over and over, no matter the reminder he’d hung around his son’s neck, and his son’s son after that.
“No one likes to have their past dug up, Jory. But that’s my mission, and I intend to see it to the end.”
She staggered back against her car, her body going cold and her ears ringing. She felt sweat prickle on the back of her neck. Now that he’d brought up her biggest fear, she felt flattened. “I hope…” She couldn’t continue. Her mouth was so dry, and her heart thundered in her ears. “I hope you aren’t speaking literally,” she whispered.
*
She looked soshocked, so vulnerable, the impulse to comfort her was visceral. But he had to remain objective and focused so he could do the job, honor Jace’s last wish and get out of happy-cute town before his brothers trapped him into whatever business here they were dreaming up. Dreams had a way of turning into nightmares in his experience.
He wouldn’t be a good partner to take on. Whatever he tried to achieve outside his family would turn toxic—either it would be sucked in, chewed up and spit out by his family, or swallowed whole leaving nothing behind. He’d seen it happen to an aunt and later a cousin—they’d tried to step away, start something new, but everything had been slowly, painfully destroyed, and then they’d been sucked back into the family even with the fragile trust broken.
He was the only one he knew of who’d escaped.
Hard to argue and manipulate the US military.
But he’d already decided he’d help his brothers—have a no-paper-trail claim on their business. And then there was Jory. He’d have to ensure that when he left, he wasn’t leaving any…loose ends.
“Tell me what you know.”
They were in the house now. He kept the front door wide open. When he pulled up the sashes on the four windows lining the room, his ribs screamed in protest, and his small suture tugged. He hid his wince and braced his legs that threatened to shake as if he’d run ten miles uphill with a full pack instead of climbed the stairs to the porch.
How the hell could he be so weak when the day before he’d been at the top of his game and over, under and inside the woman who sat tucked in the corner of one of the cheery yellow sofas?
Yellow?
It would be filthy the first week of July with all the dust the passing cattle would kick up.
Kai followed him around the room, sniffing.
“We’re safe here,” he murmured to Kai, relatively. Jory presented a different kind of danger.
“Jory, focus,” he barked, and since looming over her likely wasn’t helping the flow of information—she wasn’t a prisoner he needed intel from—he stalked to the opposite couch. This one was a more appropriate tobacco bluish brown that would hide the dirt.
“I don’t understand any of this,” she murmured.
“Start with the medallion.”
She looked at him, her delicate features clearly troubled. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“That’s my job.”
“Your job is to make sense out of confusion?” A hint of fire entered the velvety black of her irises. “Because you’re the man? The big brave soldier riding in to save the day?” She grimaced. “I want a coffee,” she murmured. “I need to sleep. But I need information more.”
She sounded like she was talking to herself, which was adorable. He had the urge to get up, cross the room and sit beside her and pull her into his lap. He wanted to feel the silky brush of her black curls and waves against his skin again. He craved the connection and had a sick feeling she was going to need it, if what he suspected was true.
Jory gave the impression she was alone in the world. They had that in common.
But there were her ground rules. Despite the pain he was in, a smile tugged at his lips. He could blow by those ground rules in a second because Jory was a passionate woman. But he was not a man who stayed. Not for a woman. Not to build a business with friends in a small town where it would be too easy for his family to find him.
“Jory, tell me everything you know about your father and where he might be. You said he walked out on your family when you were a kid.” He spoke the words low, but he still heard the whip of demand in them.
He expected her to bristle and demand to know what he knew, which was annoyingly little.
“When I was eight, my dad dropped me off at a Saturday afternoon rehearsal for the school spring musical at my elementary school. It was a long rehearsal—called the cue-to-cue—for the lighting blocking, so we were supposed to bring a sack lunch and dinner in case we had to stay late because the show was the following week. We ran the cue-to-cue and then we were supposed to eat and then get in our costumes to run the show again as a dress rehearsal, but I didn’t bring anything to eat, and I didn’t have a costume.”
Her face and tone were blank, flat. But he could practically feel her childhood pain, resentment, humiliation, hunger. He too had been hungry, but it had never been for food. He’d never lacked food. Clothing. School supplies. Sports equipment. Activity fees. He’d been pushed to excel over and over at everything.
“One of the other moms—Sarah Telford—brought me a takeout dinner from Main Street Diner. Fried chicken and mashed potatoes and green beans, and it smelled so good, I just wanted to…” her fingers fluttered near her face “…keep inhaling the scent, but I was so hungry that I just started eating it and couldn’t stop and then after I wondered if perhaps I was supposed to share it with her.”
Even now in the light filtering through the oak tree’s leaves as it danced through the side windows, her cheeks colored a little.
“Then she made me the costume to be Lucy in Narnia. It was a blue velvet dress with a big white bow and a collar, and it fit and was one of the first things I ever wore that was new.”
Jory stood up.
“Sorry. That wasn’t the information you wanted.” She balled her fists and pressed them to her eyes, and he felt like the biggest jerk in the world. He was pushing her to go further than she wanted—something he’d learned at his father’s knee. “I’m not sure why I even said that. I haven’t thought about any of that for years.” Her voice had an accusatory note. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine. Keep going.”
But she stalked off to the kitchen and he heard her moving quietly around.
He stayed where he was, scratching Kai’s ears, waiting for Jory to pull herself together, even though everything inside of him urged him to follow her, get the whole story, learn as much about her family dynamic and what could have happened to her father—an accident? A crime? He dragged in a shallow breath and then another—his right lung still needed to heal. He needed to stay calm. Whatever secret Jace wanted him to uncover, it had lain dormant for years and could wait a few more minutes.
Jory returned with two steaming mugs.
“Sarah must have done the shopping for you.” She paused, her nose scrunched. “For us. She definitely bought coffee, but also lots of tea. I remember that was her go-to. She used to always bring an electric kettle and a basket of different teas to all of the school events for the volunteers, but she’d also let the kids drink the herbal teas. She’d do a couple of dunks with an herbal tea bag and add milk or honey. I always chose…peppermint. She said it helps with energy, tension headaches and bacterial infections. Without your spleen you’re going to need to take better care of your health. Do you know the function of the spleen, Calhoun?”
He held the tea and her black gaze. He liked the way he said her name.
“Since we are living together…”
“We are not living together.”
He raised his eyebrows, and then deliberately looked at his two duffels near the front door and her suitcase and large backpack that Ryder had placed in the living room, leaving them to pick their room or rooms.
Interfering and idiotic cupids.
“Temporarily,” she admitted returning to her side of the room and her couch as if they were adversaries and the bell had rung for round two. “I’m in town working for two months as a hospitalist. I am a traveling doctor. This was my childhood home, and I have very few positive memories or associations.”
“Then why come?”
He was letting her go off topic deliberately. He wanted to know more about her. Since he suspected he was now hunting for Jory’s father and maybe her brother, he had to tread lightly. Perhaps Jace had been wrong. Perhaps whatever he saw or thought he saw was part of a nightmare, or a misunderstanding. He’d need to cast a wide net for clues.
Jory made a face and took a sip of her tea. “Rohan can be persuasive.”
“Say it. He’s a pain in the ass.”
Jory’s poofy lips tilted up, and he found himself staring, his tea mug close to his mouth, nearly forgotten.
“Part of his charm,” Calhoun said, hoping to see her smile again.
“He was so lovely in high school. So handsome. Total cowboy. Polite. Kind. Helpful. Smart.” She blew on her tea. “He used his superpowers for good. He could have been a total arrogant jerk, and yet he wasn’t. He even gave me a ride home from school a lot of times because my mom and oma would forget to pick me up and the activity bus didn’t go so far out. I tried to be invisible, and yet he’d always find me and make sure I had a ride home and never made a big deal out of it. And he was so popular and well liked no one dared tease him about it—not that there was anything going on. He’d had the same girlfriend since seventh grade.”
He sipped his tea, thoughts churning, and his emotions so complicated he didn’t want to try to extract one to examine.
“Jory,” he began, reluctant to bring the conversation back to where it needed to be, but she hijacked the silence.
“So you came to Marietta as a favor to a friend—Jace McBride. You have the dubious honor of completing his final request.”
He stilled. The mug to his lips, the peppermint fragrant in his nostrils, but he was powerless against the tension that tugged at him. The way Jory summarized his mission sounded beyond dubious, and he felt that Jory had been hurt enough by the past. Did he really want to dig it up, likely literally?
“What did Jace say exactly?”
“He didn’t say anything,” Calhoun stalled. Sipped the tea finding it oddly soothing although everything in him recoiled from the next words that would necessitate action, and he had the feeling Jory would be hard to keep clear of what he was going to try to do.
“He had a list written. Mine was the medallion and a note. I told you what he said.” He didn’t want to go into it again, but he really had to. “There was a bit more.” He kept his voice flat and recited: “Find out if the bodies are buried at the northeast border to McBride and Telford property.”
He waited for tears. Confusion. Questions. He had no idea how Jory would react. Plunking down her tea and standing up with authority wasn’t it.
“Did he say why he thought there were bodies buried on the McBride land?”
Calhoun shook his head.
“Okay, then. It’s a long border. We better get going. I’ll need at least five hours of sleep before my shift tonight. Can Kai sniff out corpses after this long? Is that why you brought him?”
He stared at her appalled.
“There’s no we,” he objected.
“My father and brother never picked me up from that rehearsal. The truck was never found so it was assumed that they’d left town—deserted me and my mom. This was twenty-three years ago. If they never left Marietta, I want to know. Besides, you’re in no condition to do much of anything, especially dig.
He shot off the couch, stung. No one had questioned his abilities in years. He’d slammed the door on the sneering contempt and mocking cruelty when he’d secretly accepted the scholarship to West Point and honed himself into an independent weapon.
“Let’s get one thing straight.” He closed the distance between them, blood thrumming hotly and Kai at his heels primed for action. His instincts shouted at him to prove a point. Shake her. Grab her arm. Get in her face. But no that was his father. And he would never be that man. Not ever.
He tipped his finger under her chin and faced her down, inches from her plump lips that he still remembered the taste of.
“Don’t ever doubt that I’ll hold, that I’ll get the job done, Jory. Not ever.”
And because he was feeling wild, uncivilized, he took what he wanted and kissed her.