No Turning Back (3 page)

“Oh, I’ll call.” He turned the card over in his hand. The woman was a mystery. One he intended to unravel.

“She seems . . . is
nice
the right word?” A not-so-subtle throat clearing came a beat before the sarcasm.

Declan turned around to see his baby brother, Beckett, leaning against a paint-chipped porch post. Declan jogged up the steps and shook his brother’s hand before pulling him into an awkward backslapping hug.

They shared the same basic build and eyes. Beck’s hair was lighter and longer, until it almost touched his collar, and he carried his body with a carefree confidence Declan envied. Beck was just shy of twenty-nine, almost two years younger and miles apart emotionally. Beck still believed in things, in people. Declan had released that naïve hope long ago.

“I didn’t know you were here,” he said.

“Just arrived.”

They’d been close as kids, but Declan’s years of travel for the Army dropped a wedge between them. So did their ongoing debate about Charlie. Being the youngest, Beck missed most of the knocks at the door by the police and threatening calls from alleged victims. He went to law school and was entrenched in the idea of innocent until proven guilty.

In Beck’s mind, Charlie got a bit of a raw deal. He’d done questionable things but hadn’t been convicted of anything, so he still deserved some respect. Funny how no one else in the world seemed to agree with that characterization.

Beck nodded in the direction of the car zipping too fast in reverse down the rugged drive. “I see you’re already making friends in Sweetwater.”

“She’s Baron’s daughter.”

Beck’s wide smile fell. “Marc Baron?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

Beck whistled as he shook his head. “Man, that’s trouble. I’d pick a different temporary bed partner if I were you.”

Leah. Bed. Yeah, Declan didn’t hate the idea. “I met her an hour ago.”

Beck snorted. “What’s your point?”

Definitely time to change the subject. “Is Callen here yet?”

“He left a message saying he was on the way. He should be here soon, if he’s not in town already.”

“Guess we finally figured out a way to get his attention.”

“Let’s hope that’s a good thing.”

Callen had been gone for a long time. Leave it to Charlie to separate his boys just to fuck them up extra good. It was just one more gift the old man dropped on them that made Declan want to kick his ass. “I was surprised Cal didn’t tell you to send him the paperwork and he’d sign off without ever seeing Shadow Hill.”

“He was probably as curious as we were to visit the town that shaped Charlie. God knows Mom never wanted to come back here.” Beck dropped down and sat on the top step. “Speaking of which, what are we looking at with this place?”

Declan joined him, pointing as he gave the verbal inventory. “It’s as the legal description said, only in worse condition. The main house is about four thousand square feet. There’s a barn and a separate garage and storage over there. Something that looks like a guesthouse on the edge of a pasture of sorts. A falling-down swing set right out there.” He pointed in a straight line to the right of where they sat. “Which I don’t get at all since Grandmother bought the place long past the kid stage, but whatever, and what looks like a mini-forest behind the main house.”

“Damn.”

“I haven’t walked the land yet, but I’d say the twenty acres noted in the paperwork is about right.”

Beck shook his head. “I haven’t had a chance to look over anything yet, but I’ll check into the possibility of subdividing it for sale.”

The idea screeched and stalled in Declan’s head. “Unless we keep it.”

Beck blew out a loud breath. “You can’t be serious.”

“Some folks think that’s all I know how to be.”

“Declan, come on. People in this town hate us based solely on our last name.” Beck rested his elbows on his knees and let his hands drop between his legs. “There are claims about Dad stealing money and defrauding investors, and those are just the mild letters.”

“I get it.”

“Do you? I can show you the stack of lawsuits filed against his estate and Grandmother’s, if you want.” Anger vibrated in every syllable.

Declan heard it. Felt it. Knew it wasn’t aimed at him. “I’d like to go ten minutes without thinking about our father, his life and his mistakes.”

Beck threw an arm out level with the horizon. “And you think that will be possible living here, where everything started?”

Every word he said made sense. Only an idiot would willingly walk into this sort of convoluted legal and emotional mess. Declan had vowed long ago not to fight Charlie’s battles. The man had made terrible choices, hurt so many people, ruined his marriage to their mother and left her to raise three young boys without any financial help, before taking one kid on the road and leaving her brokenhearted.

A smart man would make some money off their piss-poor family history, as a sort of empty compensation for all the wrongs, and walk away. But from the minute he stepped on the land and the sun streamed into the family room, Shadow Hill had seeped into Declan’s bones. The broken windows in the kitchen didn’t deter him.

He’d wandered through life without any direction and had fought for so long. Now he craved a home. Maybe Shadow Hill was the answer.

“There might be some people in this town we can win over,” he said, blanking out the image of a certain woman who was determined to hate him.

“You talking about that hot redhead? What is it about that combo of light red and pale skin that’s so hot?”

No way was Declan answering either of those. “I’m talking about starting over.”

“I get that. Believe me. But this isn’t the place.”

“Our father spread his schemes over a lot of miles. I can name six states without thinking about it where it would be a bad idea to live thanks to him.”

“And that leaves a lot of viable towns across the U.S. where Hanover is just another name.” Beck scraped his heel along the broken step that had grabbed Leah’s attention. “Pick one of those.”

The last drop of tension left Declan’s chest. Despite the obstacles, this was the answer. He knew it down to his soul. Here, on this land, with all its history and all its problems. “I’m tired of trying to find a Charlie-free zone. I want a fresh start and an end to all the moving around. The house is here. The property is here. This might be the right place.”

“There are a lot of people determined not to let you get comfortable here.”

For every argument Beck made, an answer popped into Declan’s head. He saw the problems but the promise of possibility flooded through him. “There’s a solution.”

Beck barked out a harsh laugh. “Change our last name?”

This was an option Declan analyzed many times, but one that didn’t solve anything when the police and victims could investigate and still track them all down through courtroom documents and Social Security numbers. “Tempting, but my idea requires less paperwork.”

Beck flashed a smile sure to win over any jury. “The lawyer in me craves the paperwork.”

They both laughed at that one. When the quiet settled in again, Declan inhaled the clear air and said out loud the thought that had been kicking around in his head. “We need to stay here and win this town over. I know we can. I can feel it.”

Beck frowned. “I thought the three of us meeting here was about selling a falling-down house.”

“It was.”

“And now?”

“It’s about kicking this town’s ass until the people here beg us to stay.”

Chapter Three

Leah dragged her exhausted butt to her father’s house for dinner that night. Amazing how unloading her frustration on an annoying dude who appeared to be made up of equal parts criminal and hottie could wipe out a woman’s energy level and desire to spend time hanging out with family.

She’d stewed all afternoon over Declan’s get-to-know-you-better parting line. As if
that
was ever going to happen. All she wanted from him was a signature on a deed and a final look at those impressive shoulders as he drove out of town.

Not that she was thinking about any part of him except the con-man gene.

She walked up the cement steps to the brick rancher and turned the knob, not even a little surprised when it opened without trouble. She’d heard the lecture a million times. Marc Baron didn’t lock his door because the good people of Sweetwater valued one another. He and his friends thought something as simple as a safety precaution signaled a lack of trust in their neighbors. She thought not locking up showed a lack, all right, but of common sense. People stole in small towns, too, but explaining that to anyone over fifty-five in Sweetwater was a head-banging experience, and she’d had enough of that for one day.

If she had her choice, she’d be at her home, going through her Hanover files now that she could match a face to the name. A stupidly impressive face but one with a mountain of baggage attached. But it was Thursday and she’d had a standing dinner date with her dad for months. Seeing him rushed to the hospital with chest pains three months ago had shifted her world. She vowed not to lose touch, and he’d informed her regular visits were now mandatory.

She smiled at the memory but quickly lost her amusement when she heard the raised voices. She couldn’t make out the words, but she knew angry. Her father did angry
really
well.

Pushing open the door to his study, she peeked inside. He stood behind his big desk with two other men, wearing his afternoon golf clothes and staring at the paperwork stacked in front of him. A low mumble of voices filled the room.

Leah recognized an it’s-time-to-kick-some-ass posse when she ran straight into one. She didn’t even have to ask to know this had something to do with the arrival of one Declan Hanover. “Everything okay in here?”

All three of the older men turned to her at the same time, but her father spared her only a quick glance before glaring at the papers again. “We have a problem.”

Nothing new there. Her father used the phrase almost every week to describe something—a broken sidewalk, the diner closing a minute too early, the kid down the street having the nerve to skateboard in the cul-de-sac, the last being an absolute outrage and potentially jailable offense in her dad’s eyes.

People in town insisted he’d once been a carefree and happy guy. The unspoken ending to the comment was, “before your mother left.” Leah had to take that one on faith.

She leaned against the doorway and prepared for Round 2 in the day’s Hanover saga. Still, she needed them to confirm it to be sure. No need to shift into battle mode if they were fighting about lost golf balls or something. “Can we narrow down the trouble to a person, place or thing?”

Her father’s best friend and the town’s current police chief, Clay Darber, walked right up to her and put his hands on her shoulders. The dramatic head shake and furrowed brow came next. “Hanovers.”

Damn
. Sounded like the gentlemen in the room had left reality and were headed straight for full-on crazy mode. No question the Hanover family needed to sell the house and fast, or the townsfolk would lose their collective minds.

“So, you’ve heard,” she said with a sigh. “Guess that means the town gossip tree is up and fully operational.”

Her father’s head shot up. “You know Hanover is here?”

“I met the middle son, Declan, at lunch.”

Her father came around the desk, his face reddening with each step until he stopped next to Clay. They wore matching frowns.

“What did he say to you?” her dad asked.

“Nothing.” Or nothing she planned to repeat until everyone calmed the hell down.

Clay straightened his shoulders and stood a full five-feet-nine for the first time in five years. An accidental gunshot to the upper arm years ago left him looking older than sixty and the beer gut pushing his belt down didn’t help either. It looked like he itched to fire that weapon strapped to his side.

“Maybe I should go out and have a chat with this Hanover character,” he said.

She fought off an eye roll over Clay’s swagger. “Last I checked you can’t arrest someone for stepping across the Sweetwater line.”

“Don’t be so sure.” Her father’s voice rose with each word.

Ed Pierce finally chimed in. “They’re right, Leah. This Hanover kid needs to know he’s not welcome.”

“He’s not a kid. He’s a man.” Very grown and very much a man . . . Leah shook her head and tried to pretend she didn’t sound like Mallory. A little self-denial was called for under the circumstances.

Ed looked at his phone. “That won’t matter when the time comes.”

“What does that mean?”

He waved a hand as if to dismiss all concerns. “Don’t you worry about it.”

Like that was going to happen
. “You’re an attorney.” Tall and lean and a good ten years younger than her dad and Clay, Ed was someone she usually depended on for a dose of reality. The hang-’em scowl on his face suggested he was running low today.

“And?” Ed asked, as if the subtle call for calm was out of place here.

With the potential for stupid male behavior hovering right at the just-about-to-happen point, she bit back a sigh and fought for patience. “Look, I know this is upsetting for all of you.”

“It’s a disaster.” Her father completed the thought by stalking back to his desk.

She tried to imagine how this conversation could go worse. “The town isn’t flooding and nothing is on fire. The brothers are in town to settle an estate. That’s all. It’s no big deal and certainly not a reason to suspend law and order.”

A memory kept tickling at the back of her mind. Strings of words, the things she’d said to Declan filled her brain. She had to push it all out and pretend she hadn’t been wallowing in the muck along with her father and his friends. She had reason to be wary and needed to protect her dad. Those justifications would have to be enough to save her from a serious case of hypocrisy.

Ed held up his phone. “Checked my messages and e-mail. None of the Hanover kids called me for help with the estate. Guess that means they’re using someone who’s not local.”

This time the eye roll slipped out before she could stop it. “Gee, I wonder why.”

“That’s enough from you, young lady,” her father said. “Don’t be smart.”

Clenched fists, a set jaw and the angry tick in his cheek. Much more of this and her father would be back in the hospital.

Time to rein this in. “My suggestion is we sit back and see what the Hanovers plan to do with the property. If we push them, they might not sell out of spite. But if they spend a few days at Shadow Hill and see how much work there is to do there to make it livable, they could go without a fight.”

It sounded so logical in her head that when they all stared blankly at her she wondered where the speech had gone wrong in the execution. So much for that expensive marketing degree.

“I can’t depend on ‘might’ here.”

“Your father’s right. The last time was—” Ed glanced at her dad then swallowed hard enough to make his throat move. “Not good.”

She understood how a heated inner defensive wall rose at the mere mention of the Hanover name. Just thinking about the family and all she’d lost made her heartbeat thunder in her ears, and not in a good way. Blood rushed through her and her temper spiked.

But someone in the room had to make a final grab for common sense. “From everything I’ve ever heard about Charlie, he was allergic to real work. I’m betting the sons are the same.”

Her father pointed his pen at her. “Too risky to wait and see. You need to fix it.”

She didn’t miss his fury or how he included her as a target. “How exactly?”

“It’s your job.” All three men nodded at her father’s comment.

She inhaled, making one last attempt to keep from yelling. “I do promotion for the town.”

“You make the town attractive to tourists and the like, so then you sure as hell can make it unattractive to others,” her father said.

Clay crossed his arms over his chest. “If that doesn’t work, I’ll step in.”

The three of them stood there in a row, each one with a mouth in a flat line and shoulders stiff. They’d clearly appointed themselves the town’s protectors, and since they all had guns and one carried a weapon for a living, she feared the chances of any of this ending well were slim.

They’d lost their minds. All of them. At the same time.

“And do what, Chief, shoot them?” She had to force the words out over the lump in her throat.

Ed shrugged. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Her father grabbed a piece of paper off the desk. “I say we—”

Before he could suggest something truly awful, she stepped in. “I’ll do it.” The words rushed out of her, leaving a hollow ache behind.

She wanted Declan and his brothers gone so she could buy back the house for her dad. She didn’t want a bloodbath, virtual or otherwise. The only way she knew to stop whatever reckless plan her father created before his pulsing need for vengeance could fester was to take over. It was either that or risk losing him to a hospital bed . . . or worse.

Her father eyed her closely. “You need to be firm and be careful. Don’t let him get you alone, and don’t buy into his innocent nonsense. Kept it professional. Ed should be with you when you talk. You shouldn’t ever speak to one of these Hanovers without another man present, preferably someone who lived in Sweetwater back then and knows.”

“That’s true.” The chief nodded as he spoke. “Memories have faded and the newer generations won’t remember Charlie. Some folks could err on the side of giving the sons the benefit of the doubt.”

She felt as if she’d dropped right back into 1950. “None of this is necessary.”

“Oh, don’t go thinking you can handle this alone. His father could con a sensible woman into total stupidity, and I don’t want you going there.”

She knew exactly what woman he was referring to. The one he was once married to, her mother. “Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence, Dad.”

“Just use your brain for once.”

She rubbed her forehead but the thumping at her temples refused to subside. “Give me a little time and—”

“How much?” He barked the question at her.

She dropped her hand and stared into the eyes that always had the power to turn her into a stammering, scared little girl. “What does it matter? It’s not a race. The point is to get them to leave.”

He swore. “That’s not my only goal.”

Ed’s stern face fell. “Now, Marc. There are limits here.”

Relief soared through her. About time someone other than her pointed that tiny little fact out. “If you are putting this on me, then you have to let me handle it my way. I decide how and when.”

Clay pursed his lips but finally nodded. “Agreed.”

Her father dropped into his chair with a “humpf.” He’d lost so much weight that the leather nearly swallowed him. “I don’t.”

“Dad, it’s the only way.” With her hands braced on the opposite side of the desk, she faced him, sending all of her will slamming into him in the hope it would turn him around. “I don’t want you sick or in trouble.”

He leaned back in his chair, calm as if he secretly wasn’t plotting to do something really stupid. “Nothing’s going to happen to me, young lady.”

“We’ll make sure your father stays out of your way for now.” Clay moved next to the desk chair and put his hand on the back. “You get to work.”

***

Declan pushed open the glass door to Schneider’s Grocery late that afternoon and smiled when a bell rang above his head. Leave it to Sweetwater to have a small general store in the middle of Main Street. The fact it even had a Main Street made him chuckle. He’d lived on bases in military housing for so long that a quiet life outside of a fenced-in space with guards at the gate appealed to him.

He’d passed a national chain supermarket about ten miles out of town but liked the idea of visiting local businesses. It seemed like the small-town thing to do. Besides that, if he wanted to eat dinner, and he did, he had to pick up supplies. There wasn’t so much as a stick of butter at the house. Beck brought beer, which was an interesting housekeeping choice. Declan preferred meat and potatoes and a roll of toilet paper.

As he stepped into the freezer section and eyed up a bag of french fries, he could only hope the food shopping went better than the bank visit of fifteen minutes ago. The manager had been friendly and helpful . . . right up until the point where he started talking about the mortgage on Shadow Hill. The amount wasn’t a mystery. The problem was the battle between a potential estate sale and foreclosure.

Seemed Nanette stopped paying the mortgage long ago. Mr. Temperley and his lending staff gave her break after break, but time had run out. Declan glanced down at the basket in one hand and refinancing paperwork folder in the other. Looked like he had a long, boring night ahead of him reading tiny print on a contract and poring over estate documents.

“What’s in there?” All of a sudden Leah stood right next to him holding a jar of pickles.

Interesting dinner choice
. He held up the basket and pointed to the one item he managed to snag as he walked down the aisle. “I have ketchup. I’m thinking hamburgers for dinner. You going with an all-dill diet?”

She didn’t laugh. Didn’t even smile. “I mean the file.”

Yeah, he got that. What he didn’t understand is how she snuck up on him. He’d have to watch this one. If she stood there every time he turned around, they could have a problem. “Explain why my folder is your business?’

“I was being neighborly.”

This time she smiled. Shame it looked so fake.

“Are you serious with that? We’ve known each other a few hours and you’ve been trying to shove me back in my car and out of the state for every minute of that time.”