Ladd Springs (Ladd Springs, Book #1) (18 page)

“I
see you been visiting my stone again.”

“It’s
not your stone,” she leveled, wrestling a building angst as the stakes were
laid bare. Gun tucked in her boot, she couldn’t get to it. The
camera
was in her backpack. If Clem learned of her pictures, it was game over.

He
smirked. “I found it first.”

“Trespassing
on private property,” she spat. Mentally, Delaney raced through her options. She
could turn and run, possibly outstripping Clem. She could stay and fight,
though it would mean more injury to an already sore shoulder. But if she could
cause
him
injury, it would be worth it. She’d about had about enough of
his attacks.

“That’s
where you’re wrong,” Clem jeered. “This place is gonna be mine, too, you watch
and see. I already got Ernie convinced you’re in cahoots with that hotel man
trying to steal his property.”

Delaney’s
jaw dropped open. “What?”

He
smiled thinly. “Oh yeah, I told him you two was sleepin’ together.” He cocked
his head. “Well, you know what? He wasn’t too happy about hearin’ them words.”

Like
a match to flame, the comment set fire to her resolve. “I will make you sorry
you ever set foot on Ladd property.”

He
chuckled, mocking her. “Oh, will you now? And how you gonna do that when—” Clem
lunged at her. Delaney jumped back. Managing to grab the end of her sleeve, he
pulled. She yanked against him, slugging him across the side of his face.

“Get
her!” Clem yelled.

The
large stranger from the day before emerged from behind a boulder. He was on her
in seconds, locking burly arms around her from behind. Delaney twisted, kicked
and pulled, thrusting her heels into his shins. He lifted her from the ground, wrenched
her head backward. Delaney shrieked in pain.

“What’s
a matter, tough girl?” Clem taunted. Rubbing a hand across his jaw, he spit on
the ground. “You don’t seem so high and mighty now.”

“Clem,”
she bit out between gritted teeth.

“Yes?”
he asked, leering at her undulating body.

Muscles
screeched in her neck. The smell of sweaty, dirty man flared her nostrils. His
panting disgusted her. Crushed between them, her backpack cut through the thin
jersey of her tee, reminding her exactly what she stood to lose. “Let me down!”

“No
can do. You and me are taking a ride.” Clem gestured for the big man to follow.
The third man materialized to join them, apparently lurking around the curve as
the first two made their assault. He leered at her and licked his lips.

Panic
rose sharply in her chest. She was the only one who knew about the gold. Other
than Clem and these men, she was the only one who could prove that he was
stealing from Ernie, from her. Unless Nick found it. But if these men were
lying in wait for her, they may have already had their showdown with Nick. Damn
them!

Delaney
twisted against the man’s torso, kicking her legs for a shot at Clem. He leaped
out of reach, and once again the big man wrenched her neck in warning.

Delaney
ceased. The fool could crack her neck without even realizing it!

“Lets’
go,” Clem ordered his thugs, and the two men followed, dragging her with them.

As
they plodded down the trail, Delaney hung uncomfortably in the big man’s hold. “Let
me walk,” she growled.

“Nope,”
Clem replied flatly. “You’ve proved you ain’t trustworthy. Jeb, here, will
escort you instead.”

She
stashed the name away. It could prove useful—once she freed herself. And free
herself, she would. People would start looking for her when she didn’t show up
at home.
Home
. A horrible sinking feeling filled Delaney. As it stood,
her daughter would be the one to have to report her mother missing.

Chapter Eighteen

Annie
pulled into the Sweeney compound with her daughter, Casey, in tow. Candi
Sweeney was Clem’s sister and Annie’s best friend—the only one of the bunch
worth making the trip down the junk-lined road—and she needed to talk. Candi
was like her other half, her soul sister. The two had met in high school. Annie
thought she was pretty and sweet and perfect—until she met the Sweeneys.

The
black sheep in the Sweeney clan, Candi was one member of the family not at war
with the Ladds. She was the daughter who wanted to earn her degree and
encouraged Annie to do the same. She helped her study, encouraged her to try
out for the cheerleading squad, even to audition for the starring role in a
school play. And it was Candi who had urged her to go after Jeremiah. She
claimed Annie was the prettiest girl in school and could have whatever boy she
wanted. Annie hadn’t been as certain, but at Candi’s insistence she went after
Jeremiah, and to her surprise, he showed an interest. Annie had been beside
herself at the time.

Jeremiah
Ladd liked her
.

It
wasn’t until he ran off to Atlanta with her sister Lacy that Annie uncovered
the extent of his deception. Lacy was only the last in a long string of
affairs. In the six months she and Jeremiah had been dating—or what she had
believed to be dating—Jeremiah had slept with ten other girls. Ten. But Lacy
was the most humiliating. Candi had been there for her, as sweet and caring as
she could be, but it was Clem who took advantage of her devastation. One night,
while out at the County Line Bar, he bought her drinks, danced with her, then
took her back to his place. The rest was a blur, a nightmare Annie had been
trying to black out of her memory ever since.

As
they rolled past the rusted John Deere tractor, its front wheels flat, the weight
of it sinking beneath years of neglect, Casey piped up, “I don’t know why I had
to come with you.”

Annie
glanced at her daughter. Sullen, moody, her jet black hair covering half her
face, Casey wasn’t happy to be anywhere at the moment. “Because you’re
grounded.”

Disgust
wrangled Casey’s full lips into a frown, twisted her blue eyes into a knot of
anger. “Which is
stupid
. I didn’t
do
anything.”

“It’s
not stupid. It’s called consequences.” Something Annie had been living with
ever since that night at Clem’s. Sleeping with two men and winding up pregnant
was not a good mental place to be. While Annie was sure Casey belonged to
Jeremiah, there always remained a seed of doubt. Nine months after Jeremiah
left, nine months and a one-night stand later, Casey Melody was born. It was possible
she belonged to Clem. But unlikely.

A
mild tremor ran through Annie. She had slept exclusively with Jeremiah for six
months. In all likelihood, Casey was his. She shook her mind free of old
anxieties. Only
technically
was Clem a possible contender.

“Maybe
you’ll think twice next time before you decide to lie to your mother,” Annie snapped.
Lying only led to trouble, she added to herself.

Casey
looked as if she could spit. “Whatever.” She gave an indignant shake to her
long, straight, glossy black hair and locked arms over her chest in defiance. Kicking
a sneaker to the dashboard, she stared out the passenger window. “It’s not like
I did anything.”

Not
yet, maybe. But at the rate Casey was going, trouble would find her. It would stop
her in her tracks, smack her hard. “Sneaking out with your boyfriend is what I
call
something
,” Annie replied.

“So.
I told you—we didn’t do anything. What’s the big deal?”

“You’re
grounded because you lied,” Annie informed her, hoping that what she claimed
was true. For her daughter’s sake. Annie gathered Casey in her gaze and exhaled
heavily. She had such pretty blue eyes, a natural fire to her spirit and she
was smart. So smart. If only she applied herself.
All I can do is pass on
the lessons
.
What you do with them is up to you
.

Annie
had learned hers the hard way. If she could alleviate a little pain and regret
for her daughter, she would do so.

Pulling
up to the cement block house, walls painted gray with white trim, Annie parked
and eased out of the car. “C’mon.”

Begrudgingly,
her daughter followed. Heat rose from the arid mix of grass and dirt and clay, surprising
Annie at how fast the temperature had soared. Gone was the misty nip she had
awakened to, replaced by a scorching heat. While she preferred sunshine to
rain, a few passing clouds would be nice. Especially since the air-conditioning
had gone out in her car. If she was lucky, it was only a matter of Freon.

But
Annie’s life wasn’t littered with luck.

Navigating
the crooked line of stepping stones covered by weeds, passing a lone clump of
purple hydrangea, she walked up to the front door and knocked. The bleached-out
metal door exuded the stale scent of cigarette smoke. Boasting an oval glass
etching in its center, it had been pretty in its heyday. Annie remembered when
they installed it. Candi had been so proud, showing her friend how the gold
lines glittered in the sun, the beveled glass sparkling as she opened and
closed it. But like everything the Sweeney’s touched, they only touched it
once. Weather and time and neglect took over from there.

Candi
opened the door and greeted Annie with a warm hug. She invited her inside,
where the remainder of Sweeneys were embroiled in a heated discussion.

“It
don’t matter to me
what
he does. I ain’t interfering.”

“Now
Buford, who said anything about interfering?” Mrs. Sweeney’s generous figure
was wedged into a recliner, the mauve material faded and worn. Her silvery
curls were un-brushed, her housedress a pink floral, and on her feet she wore
blue terry cloth slippers. “I said go and talk to the boy. He can’t be hosting
people at all hours over there, not when I can hear the racket from my front
porch.”

“Clem,”
Candi said when Annie looked to her for explanation.

Enough
said, Annie thought. Uninterested in hearing anymore, she looked to her friend.
She was here for a visit but preferred it didn’t include Candi’s family.

The
stocky Mr. Sweeney paraded across the square room, his lower stomach protruding
from beneath his white T-shirt. Like his wife, his salt and pepper hair could
use some attention. “Ethel, I’m going to put my foot down.”

“Stomp
it in the mud, for all I care,” she replied with a wave of her hand, a lighted cigarette
hanging from between her fingers, the smoke snaking its way through the air
toward Annie. “Just make sure you get the boy to quit or
else
.”

Mr.
Sweeney thrust out his hefty barrel-shaped gut. “Or else what?”

Candi
shook her head in frustration, highlighted blonde streaks forming distinct
sections between her natural brown. “How about we take a walk?” she whispered
to Annie.

“Good
idea.” Annie turned to Casey and found her staring down the youngest member of
the family. Sulking in the corner, the elder Sweeney’s grandson Jimmy seemed
content with staring right back at Casey, his dark brooding looks partially
covered by the long swath of artificially black bangs. Dressed in black T-shirt
and black jeans, the boy worked hard to project his new Goth image.

“Wanna
wait here?” Annie asked her daughter, knowing the answer before she replied.

“No
way.” Casey spun on her heel, making a bee line for the front door.

Annie
followed as Candi waved off to the family, “I’m going out for a while.”

No
one acknowledged she had said a word as Mrs. Sweeney stared down her husband, announcing,
“Or else I’m gonna leave this house and never come back.”

“Hah!”
He flung his arms high into the air. “I been trying to get you to do that for
thirty years and look at you...” He swept a beefy hand in her direction. “You’re
still sittin’ here.”

Annie
caught Mrs. Sweeney’s icy glare on her way out and thanked God once again she
hadn’t been born into this family. She might have issues with her own kin, but
nothing compared to poor Candi.

Outside,
the air suddenly felt fresh and clean. Bright, sunny. Happy. Annie turned to
Candi as she closed the door behind them. “When are you going to move out of
that house?”

“When
I save up enough cash to pay first month, last month, utility deposit—” Candi
frowned. She glanced askance at the house beneath lowered lashes, thickly coated
with mascara. “You have no idea what it’s like on a daily basis.”

Annie
hated the sadness pouring into her friend’s big brown eyes. She’d had it rough
of late, and if Annie could have helped her, she would. But barely managing on
her own with Casey, she had nothing to spare. She’d already offered her couch,
but Candi refused. She wasn’t going to bog down her friend with her troubles. She’d
handle them herself.

“But
I’m getting close,” Candi said, and took off walking. “Which is what I wanted
to talk to you about.”

Annie
walked with her, but Casey declined. “I’ll wait here,” she said and leaned
against the car door.

“Fine.”
Annie was in no mood to argue.

“But
first you. How’s your lawsuit going?” Candi asked, her gaze glittering with
curiosity.

“Nowhere,
yet. The lawyer says I have a chance, but it would be better if I could prove
paternity.”

“Which
means you’d have to call Jeremiah.”

Annie
nodded, unable to mouth the words.

“Are
you sure he wouldn’t agree? I mean, don’t you think he’d want to know for
sure?”

“No.”
And she didn’t want to hurt Casey any more than his absence already did. It was
one thing to know your father lived in another state, had his own life, had his
own issues. It was another to know he rejected you outright. At least that’s
what Annie told herself. Early on, she had tried to persuade Jeremiah to
acknowledge Casey was his, tried to talk sense into him about doing right by
his own flesh and blood. But he’d refused. He was a selfish bastard and some
things never changed. “I think it would only complicate matters.”

Candi
gawked at her. “Seems to me it would make your life easier.”

In
the sense of money, yes. But not emotionally. Which was the problem. Going
after her rights to Ladd Springs was churning up some dirty water. Casey was
firing insults and sucking mud, starting to hang around with the wrong kids at
school. It was no good. But Annie believed in her heart that she was doing the
right thing, that it was time to set things straight and give her daughter her
due.

She
only wished it wasn’t so difficult in the getting. Seeing Jeremiah again would
open old wounds. It would remind her of everything that happened, unravel
everything she had worked to build for herself and Casey. No. Jeremiah would
only be trouble.

“Do
you want me to call him?” Candi ventured.

“No—absolutely
not!” Her pulse fired in rejection, but the question of how Candi could pull it
off quickly flooded in. She cupped a hand to her brow, shading her eyes. Did
she know where Jeremiah was? Annie assumed he was still in Atlanta, but she
didn’t know for sure. She’d stopped checking years ago. Stopped wondering and
hoping and gave up on her last fantasy that he would do the right thing. Jeremiah
Ladd was a son of a bitch, same as his father. It was in their blood, Delaney
proving herself no different. Dropping her hand, she allowed thoughts of
Jeremiah to subside. “I’ve been talking to a lawyer. I think I’ll let him come
up with a plan.”

“If
you’re sure...”

At
the relief in Candi’s expression, Annie nodded. “I’m sure.” She kicked at a
beer can lying in her path and asked, “What’s going on with you?”

Candi’s
eyes brightened. “I want to open my own salon.”

“Really?
But how are you going to manage that when you have no money?”

“Well,
I’ll need investors.”

At
Candi’s averted gaze, Annie asked, “What kind of investors?”

“People
who believe in me.”

“Well,
that’s easy. You’re the best hairstylist this side of the Mississippi!” Candi
blushed at the compliment. “That ought to be easy.”

As
they rounded the corner of a stand of trees, a flowering dogwood reflecting
bright white in the sun, Clem’s trailer came into sight. Annie’s insides
clenched. Now there was a great way to ruin an afternoon, she mused. Dents
marred the entire back side of the trailer, the result of a drink-induced
parking attempt by Clem’s brother Hank. After a night of carousing the two had
returned home, and Hank managed to nail the entire back end of trailer. Sober,
he couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn. She shook her head. Both brothers
were losers, with a capital L.

Candi
glanced at Clem’s trailer. “If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll steer clear
of Daddy.”

“Steer
clear?” Annie asked, surprised. “I didn’t think the two spoke.”