Roustabout (The Traveling #3) (17 page)

I slipped into a seat at the back, hoping to be unseen by the thirty or so people who were there, but I saw Tucker’s nephew turn in his chair, already bored. His eyebrows lifted when he saw me, then he nudged the woman sitting next to him. I assumed she was his mother, which made her either Tucker’s sister or sister-in-law. I prepared a smile of condolence, but when she turned to stare at me, or rather glare at me, her thin lips pulled into a sneer.

I slumped back in my seat, more than a little surprised. I couldn’t imagine what I’d done to upset Tucker’s family. Maybe being here was a bad idea.

Tucker was sitting off to one side by himself, his eyes fixed on the cheap looking coffin covered in flowers. I recognized the spray of white lilies that I’d ordered from a local florist.

The minister droned on without a drop of emotion, describing Tucker’s mom as a hard-working woman who’d taken on two stepsons that she loved like her own boy. It all painted a very rosy view of a family Tucker could barely bring himself to speak about. But I suppose that’s what we do at funerals—whitewash the truth that’s too dirty to mention.

I didn’t really learn much more except that Margaret McCoy-Foster née Sutton had been born in the town 51 years ago and had never left. She’d have been very young when she had Tucker.

Maybe that’s why Tucker was a roamer, to do what his mother never could. Either that, or he couldn’t wait to leave home.

I gathered that she’d been widowed young, and I wondered what had happened to Tucker’s father.

An older man sitting in the front row started intermittently cursing and drinking from a bottle of whiskey, only partially hidden by a paper bag. I guessed he was the widower, which made him Tucker’s stepfather. The two burly men next to him seemed uninterested in either stopping his drinking or quieting his cursing. Tucker didn’t even turn his head.

It was the strangest, most oddly dispassionate funeral I’d ever been to.

As the service ended, I slipped away quietly and waited outside for Tucker.

He looked surprised when he saw me, his expression quickly becoming upset. He glanced uneasily at the blonde woman, then started walking toward me, but before he could say a word, the woman caught up to him.

“This her?” she said, her voice a tough bark. “This the one you were up at the creek with? Scotty told me you were screwing some rich girl with a fancy car.”

Tucker scowled at her. “Scotty has a big mouth—and he’s not good friends with the truth either.” Then he turned to me. “What are you doing here, TC?”

“I thought . . .”

“He’s with his family,” the woman spat. “He doesn’t need you and I sure as hell don’t want
our son
to see a slut like you.”

I gasped, my eyes darting to Tucker as he swore softly.

Had I heard that right? Tucker and this woman?

“You have a son?”

I could hear the shock and disbelief in my voice, and I didn’t know which weighed the heaviest.

Tucker was staring at me. Then he scowled, his eyes turning to ice as he looked at the woman.

“What did you say?”

She didn’t reply, just stared at him, a grim smile on her face.

My voice was trembling and broken as I asked again.

“You have a son?”

Tucker shrugged, still not looking at me, and that indifference almost killed me.
What does that mean—a shrug?

I’d believed I was beginning to know this man, but I was wrong.

Tucker’s lips pulled into a cold smile.
I really hate the way he smiles. How can he smile at me? How dare he?

“Looks like,” he said easily. “TC, you should go.”

Then he gripped the woman’s arm and pulled her toward the parking lot, his voice a low, angry rumble.

He didn’t even look at me.

I stumbled back to the taxi, falling into the back seat.

The driver looked at me with sympathetic eyes.

“Sorry for your loss,” he said.

Tucker

The look on Tera’s face just about killed me.

“Why did you have to say that to her?” I all but snarled at Renee.

She tugged her arm free and threw me a hard look.

“She got no business being here!”

“Is that right? She’s my best friend’s sister.
You
got no business talking to her like that.”

Renee laughed coldly. “Your best friend’s sister? A stuck up bitch like that! You’re a liar. She’s that northern senator’s daughter—I seen her picture in the paper, Miss Tera Chastain Hawkins. That’s right, isn’t it? Your
friend
.” She smiled again. “Strangers in a small town are big news, Tucker. You should know that.”

“What the fuck, Renee? You tell me two minutes before the service that Scotty is my kid, and the next minute you’re telling everyone!”

What a complete mindfuck. My son! I had a kid—all this time and I’d never known. I only had to look at his dirty blond hair and know that he was mine. Fuck! FUCK! FUCK!

I tore at my tie. Other than the minister, I was the only man wearing one today. The knot felt like it was strangling me.

“What about Jackson? Does he know?”

Renee shook her head, her chin jutting out, her scowl defiant.

“No, he doesn’t.”

“Why?” I asked furiously. “Why are you with him?”

She pressed her lips together in a flat line.

“There aren’t too many choices when you’re 17 and pregnant.”

My stomach lurched and I felt a cold sweat break out all over my body. Renee sneered at me.

“Jesus, Tucker! Don’t look so shocked; we’d been screwing since we were 13. Guess it caught up with us.”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t the only one,” I bit out. “What about Randolph?”

“Scotty doesn’t look anything like him. Wake up, Tucker! The kid is the spitting image of you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t get the chance. You were away and gone; didn’t exactly leave a forwarding address, did you?”

I gave an angry laugh. “Are you surprised? The last time I saw you, Randolph was . . .” I couldn’t even bring myself to say it.

Renee shook her head bitterly. “You were always such a dreamer—head in the clouds. Everything was just a damn joke to you. Well, life has gotten serious.”

I had to look away. “You never did get me, Renee.”

“What does that mean?”

I sighed and rubbed my eyes. “Doesn’t matter. Where does Jackson fit into this?”

She shrugged. “Scotty needed a father and he was a better bet than Randolph. I told Jackson it was him. He believed me.”

Jesus! Had she been screwing my whole family behind my back? Maybe Jason, too?
I shook my head, not wanting to think about it.

“So why are you telling me now?”

A cold gleam glittered in her eyes. “You’ve done well for yourself; got out of this dead-end town, didn’t you? I read about you on the internet, riding with that famous stuntman.”

I met her stare. “So this is about money?”

She licked her lips. “You owe me. I was the one who was supposed to leave.”

“Well, you’re shit out of luck because I’m broke.”

“Bullshit! You ridin’ that fancy foreign motorcycle. Tell me that isn’t worth thousands of dollars!”

She was right, but it was also the only thing I had.

“I want a paternity test,” I said. “If Scotty’s mine, I want to know it for sure.”

Renee grimaced. “I can’t afford that kind of money.”

“What about Jackson? You’re married to the douche—he must be down on Scotty’s birth certificate?”

Renee looked away.

“We’re not married. Jackson gave me a ring, but we never made it legal.”

Sounded like Jackson
.

“Well, whose name is down on the birth certificate as Scotty’s father?”

Renee lifted her chin and glared at me.

“No one.”

I frowned, not sure what to believe.

“You’ve known where I was for a year now—you could have filed a paternity suit. The Courts would have come after me for child support.”

Renee glared. “Oh yeah, sure. Right after Jackson had beaten me black and blue.”

An ache filled my chest.
Just like Momma.

I tamped down the growing feeling of guilt.

“Get the test, or you won’t see a penny from me.”

“Mom, what’s going on?”

Scotty’s worried voice interrupted us.

Renee grabbed his shoulders and pulled him into a tight hug. There was no doubting her love for the kid—I just doubted everything else that came out of her bitter mouth.

“Get the test, Renee,” I said in a low voice. “I’ll stay in town for two more days, after that, I’m gone.”

Randolph lurched out of the door toward the truck, drunk and cussing up a storm.

He was smaller than I remembered, and it seemed unbelievable that he’d terrorized me for most of my childhood. I waited for the hot flash of hatred, but all I felt was disgust. He didn’t even recognize me—or he was too drunk to care.

I walked back to my Duke in a daze. I didn’t know what to believe. Rationally, I knew that Renee had lied to me before, but damn it she was right—Scotty was the spitting image of me. Jackson was dark haired and dark eyed. But then again, Renee was blonde, as well.

My mind twisted and turned, and on top of the whole clusterfuck was Tera. What the hell must she think of me now?

Maybe it was just as well. I was no good for her; a no-good guy with nothing to offer.

But I had to at least try and explain. She deserved that much.

I rode back to her hotel slowly, trying to find the words that would make her listen, practicing what I needed to stay.

I rode the elevator to her room and took a deep breath before knocking on the door. There was no answer.

“TC, it’s me. Please, sugar, let me explain.”

Silence
.

“Tera, I just need five minutes.”

I leaned my head against the door, my thoughts weighing heavily. I waited another ten minutes before I decided to give her some space.

I walked outside into the blazing heat, feeling the sun beating down from the hard blue sky. I figured maybe I could wait for her. Maybe if I gave her time to cool down, she’d talk to me. It wasn’t much of a plan, but frying my brain in the sun wouldn’t help either. I wandered toward a thick tangle of pines where the shadows were deep and the air was a couple of degrees cooler.

From here, I could just see the hotel’s entrance as well as the window of Tera’s room. I’d wait.

I was so deep in thought, that I didn’t hear them until they were nearly on me.

The soft rush of rapid footsteps behind snapped me out of it and I was already turning when a hard fist landed square in my gut.

The breath whooshed out of my lungs in a painful hiss as I jack-knifed over.

“You were warned. Stay the fuck away from her, McCoy. She doesn’t need a loser like you in her life.”

Thud
.

The next fist landed on my cheek and I reeled backwards. I had just enough presence of mind to fold my body over as kicks rained down on me. I managed to grab onto someone’s foot and take the fucker with me. I got in a few good punches before two other men grabbed my arms and hauled me upright, and another kick was aimed at my stomach. I tensed my muscles as much as possible, but the guy’s aim was solid.

My body sagged as two heavies held my arms and another one used me as a punch bag. My left eye was swollen shut, my jaw was throbbing like a bastard and I could taste blood in my mouth. The knuckles on both of my hands were split, which meant the assholes holding me hadn’t gotten away without some damage.

I looked up at my attackers, my vision blurring as I tried to focus.

The two men holding me had the type of short haircuts that made them look military, and the one beating the shit out of me had a radio mic in his ear which told me exactly what he was. So I wasn’t surprised to see Senator Hawkins leaning casually against a tree. He’d come to make good on his threat himself—this was personal.

Another man flanked him. This was one fight that I wasn’t going to win. Not five against one, when four of the dudes were probably security services, and the other hated me more than Satan.

“Are you listening, you fucking piece of shit, because next time I won’t say it so nicely.”

A fist hit my temple and everything went black for a second.

I shook my head, trying to clear it.

“Stay away from my daughter!”

The Senator’s mouth was peeled back from his teeth and his eyes blazed with rage.

I laughed at him through split lips, pausing only to spit out a gob of blood.

“You think this will make a difference? You can’t get me fired; you can’t do anything to me . . . and I can take a beating.”

“Is that what you think?” The Senator stood upright and smiled coldly, then he nodded to his men. “Break his legs.”

Oh, shit!
That got my attention. I stared at the Senator, seeing no hesitation in his eyes.

I started struggling harder, lashing out with my feet and catching one of the goons in the shin.

He swore loudly and leaned down on my trapped arm. I heard a faint ‘pop’ as my shoulder dislocated and I landed face first on the ground.

One of them kicked me in the ribs as I tried to roll, pain shooting through my shoulder as my right arm hung limply.