The Ringer (11 page)

Snow. Lane put her hand up to touch the light flakes. The plane landed on a private airstrip. After Colorado, the luxury aircraft would be off to Russia to pick up a scientist for a newly organized Think Tank. At least it was a good reason for the plane to abandon them in the Mountain Time Zone.

“Winter comes early around these parts,” Jax told her. He took her luggage from her hand and headed toward an SUV parked across the airport.

“Young Thornbird!” A wiry older man hopped out of the driver’s side door. He greeted Jax with a wide-open smile and a handshake. “Oooeeyye, who’s this pretty little flower?”

“Lane, this is Stu, he takes care of the cabin.”

Stu extended his hand while he gave her a big country boy grin. “Well, I’ll be damned. Like father like son.” He pumped her hand.

“Speaking of my dad, is he here?”

Stu hurried to grab the bags before Jax loaded them by himself. In a quick and proficient manner, the lanky man hoisted the stuff into the open trunk, surprising her with his strength.

“Your pops is at the cabin.”

Jax helped her into the roomy Cadillac Escalade.
A ritzy drive for such a desolate place
. Nothing for miles around, she would bet the farm all of the stars in the sky could be seen from their cabin in the woods tonight.

As everyone got situated, the sun had already begun to edge its way above the horizon, revealing the snow-covered mountains. Lane peered out the back passenger window in wonder.

“This is nothing.” Stu nodded outside at the light snowfall. “This will be an inch or two, but later, ooh doggie, we’ll have one hell of a blizzard on our hands.”

“Are we talking a foot, or like Jack Nicholas in the
Shining
proportions?” She had seen a few feet here and there, but nothing epic.

“We’re talking full-on Stephen King winter squall,” Stu said, matching her enthusiasm.

Tickled by the prospect of a lot of snow, she sat back in her seat. She didn’t know how long their stay in Colorado would last, but the sight of whiteout conditions would definitely be new. A lot like the strange but beautiful impact Jackson Thornbird had on her life.

“Boxes for you arrived last night and—oh!—your pops isn’t alone,” Stu told him. Lane turned away from the enchanting landscape enveloping her mind and back to the conversation at hand. “Guess who’s with him?” Stu’s playful tone piqued her curiosity.

“I’m betting it’s not the widow Christie,” Jax replied.

“Ding ding ding, it’s your momma.”

“Oh, wow. Your parents are still together?” she asked. None of her friends’ parents’ marriages had survived past her teenage years.

“Nope,” he growled. “My parents divorced about thirty years ago.”

Confused, she opened her mouth but promptly closed it. If things made any sense, she wouldn’t be here in the first place. Instead, she decided to let things happen. In time, the story would unravel whether she had any say about it or not. She pushed in her iPod ear buds and allowed the strange topography of Colorado to seduce her.

“Lane!” Jax called her name in some far off place. They were running through a meadow but the thunder of gunshots disturbed their playful peace. Birds flew all around them covered in blood, and everything went dark.

Jarred into reality, her body shook and the darkness waned, she opened her eyes.
Big man, sexy grin
. Jax stared down on her. “We’re here.” he helped her out of the truck

A cloud-covered sun splayed bright rays over his shoulder. Crisp, cool air filled her lungs and whipped her cheeks.

“This is beautiful.” She breathed a foggy breath of awe into the atmosphere. Already amazed by the peaceful beauty and general untouched nature, she was even more surprised by the looming cabin behind them.

Scattered beams from the sun bounced off of the three solid stories of glass and wood. Shocked by the natural opulence, Lane’s mouth fell open so wide her jaw nearly unhinged.

“Christmas retreat,” he told her. “The best skiing in the country is a good ten miles away in any given direction.”

“I don’t see any neighbors.” Surrounded by the vast nature of Douglas firs and Ponderosa pines, they appeared isolated from the outside world.

“Yeah, my pops didn’t want to use this place for networking. Business is business, he always told us, but family is family.”

Lane wondered what his childhood must have been like. Not once had she gotten a whiff of any privileged kid antics from him, unlike Parker, who had spoiled brat written on his forehead. It was too bad she’d had blinders on. Otherwise she’d seen what she needed to with Parker Lockland, not what she
wanted
to.

“Jackson!”

She turned toward the pert, feminine voice filled with pure adulation. A dead ringer for Raquel Welch, with a Coke-bottle body and auburn hair, approached them in a graceful pony. Reminiscent of every pin-up girl she’d ever seen, Jax’s mother was stacked better than one of those girls in a pervy magazine.

“Mom!” She intercepted them. “I didn’t expect you here,” he mumbled into the woman’s full embrace.

Lane stood back in the sidelines.

“Surprise,” his mother cried. “Let me look at you.” She made Jax turn around. “From where I’m standing, it doesn’t look like you’re in any trouble to me.”

“Never let ’em see ya sweat, someone great taught me that,” he bragged.

With a hearty laugh, his mother punched him in the arm. “Not one drop, boyo.”

The myopic scope of this meeting hadn’t included her yet, which Lane didn’t mind. She lived for the fly-on-the-wall perspective.

“Did you have a good trip?” A man joined them, dropping a load of cut lumber at his feet. “This light snow is just a preview. In a couple of days, it will be full white-out conditions,” he said before hugging Jax.

Lane assumed he was Jax’s dad. Every man in the Thornbird family resembled one another. Big broad shoulders and dark hair…sexy men. She admired them from her vantage spot behind the youngest Thornbird, the one she had begun to fall in love with.

“The flight wasn’t bad,” Jax admitted. “Look, guys, I’ve got someone I want you to meet.” He moved aside for everyone to get a good look at her. “My mom, Dottie, and my dad, Truman, this is Lane—”

“Garrett,” she offered up her maiden name before he could give out the wrong one. The ink on her divorce papers may have just dried, but she hadn’t been married long enough to get used to the Lockland name attached to hers.

“Welcome, Lane, our
casa es su casa
,” Dottie greeted her.

She ran her palms down the front of her jeans before she shook his parents’ hands. Even though she was on the run with their fugitive son, she didn’t want the Thornbirds to get the wrong impression.

“So.” he nodded. “What’s this?”

“What?” both of them asked.

“This.” He wagged his finger between them.

His parents looked at one another in confusion before his father relented. “Oh, hell, son, it’s not like you have another brother or sister on the way. Your mother and I are spending some time together.”

“For how long?” He asked. Cop hat, Lane quickly noted by his tone; he was in full interrogation mode.

“We’ll talk about this later, boo bear,” his mother said in a sweet singsong voice. “You guys must be exhausted. Let’s get you guys inside by the fire.” Dottie rubbed his arm with motherly compassion, but Jax didn’t budge.

“Oh, for goodness sake. We’ve been seeing each other for a little while, now get in the house,” his father exploded. “Lane is freezing!” One raised eyebrow from his son was all the senior Thornbird received in return. Even if her big toe had fallen off from hypothermia, she wouldn’t have interrupted the drama.

“Huh?” Jax asked. “I didn’t quite catch what you said.” When his father mumbled out an answer.

“Quit torturing your father, Jackson,” Dottie scolded him. “We’ve been together for a while.”

“Since I was eight, admit it,” he demanded. “You two.” He pointed at the both of them. “Kissing at the Christmas party in 1986. I announced to the whole party you guys were getting back together, and you told everyone I was plastered off of eggnog!”

Attacked by a bad case of the giggles, she tried to stifle her laughter but couldn’t.

“Honestly, Jackson, you pounded them back left and right that night,” Dottie said.

“And Aunt Gloria has always been crazy, heavy-handed with the rum,” his father added.

“Eight,” he hollered.

Truman put his arm around Dottie, showing a united front. “Let’s just call this even-steven and go inside to figure out what to do about your, ah…dilemma.”

“As soon as you admit whatever this is has been going on for more than twenty-six years?”

“Fine, it’s been damn near three decades. Are we square, or should I start shilling out the bucks for a therapist right this minute?” his father yelled. “Now get your ass in the house, so we can sort out this mess with the Chicago PD.”

Lane almost toppled over with laughter from his father’s admission.

“What happened to you being on my side,” he muttered from the corner of his mouth.

“Great, now your friend thinks we’re a bunch of loons. On behalf of all the Thornbirds, I apologize.”

“Too late, Dad,” Jax said. “She met Maxie.”

“Well, I tried.” His father threw up his hands in defeat while his mother looped her arm through Lane’s.

“Didn’t you find Maxie downright lovely?” she spoke in a hushed whisper. “If you ignore her penchant for grand theft auto, she’s a doll.” Dottie led Lane toward the big cabin and waxed poetic about Maxie as if she were a disobedient child instead of a convicted criminal. “Do you like waffles, sweetie? I make a hell of a banana nut. “We’re going to have so much fun together.”

Lane peeked over her shoulder at Jax and tried to stop her second attack of giggles. The murderous expression on his face was priceless. “I do believe, Ms. Thornbird, this will be fun.”

“Please, sweetie, call me Dottie,” his mother said. “Mrs. Thornbird reminds me of my ex-mother-in-law, and I refuse to think about that crusty bat longer than I have to.”

“Nice, Dot,” Truman complained.

“Just speaking the truth, dear. The whole truth and nothing but.” Dottie pushed open the cabin door and encouraged her to enter.

Whatever apprehensions she had about his parents were long gone. Wealthy or not, these people were plain ol’ nuts. They would all get along quite nicely.

Finished with breakfast, they cleared the table. An hour ago, they had sat down with a smorgasbord of waffles, omelets, toast, sausage, and bagels.

As they filled their stomachs, peaceful camaraderie embraced the room. Impressed by the Thornbirds’ love for one another, Lane realized her own family dynamic had been fractured and disjointed until the day her father died.

To weigh the worse experiences of her life, she put the foster system right up there with her marriage, empty and soulless. Nothing compared to the quagmire of manipulation, backstabbing, psychological warfare, and downright favoritism cursing the wealthy clan. If more than two of the Locklands were near, a sticky film of ick blanketed her.

“Hey,” Jax said. He rubbed the side of her arm. “Are you okay?”

She shook off the malaise of her time with Parker and gave him a wink of reassurance. In return, he kissed the tip of her nose before leading her through the wide-open space of the cabin.

Skylights, bay windows, and pane-glassed patio doors flooded the house with the natural beauty of the woods all around them. So far, out of all the places they had visited, the small shack in the woods was hands-down her favorite.

He guided her across the first floor while he rubbed the back of her neck. Lane melted into his strong touch. Ushered away from the main part of the house and into a den full of boxes, she sighed. Along with his parents, a massive amount of work waited for them.

Their makeshift command center held three to four hundred files. The idea of studying paperwork full of legal jargon made her want to pass out for the rest of the day.

“Everyone grab a box,” Jax announced to the room.

“What are we looking for?” his mother asked.

“I’m not sure, but anything familiar has already been boxed. At this point, we need to go through the rest of these and find a needle in the hay stack.”

A few hours into their search, they found nothing different. Most of Lane’s paperwork was about missing homeless men, and several reports were about suspicious deaths the cops didn’t consider suspicious or worth looking into. A frustrated groan from someone in the den broke her concentration. When she glanced up, the office had gotten a lot darker.

“Let me see if I got this straight,” Truman groused in his corner of the room. “You’ve been set up by someone on the force because of something you may or may not have come across in one of these files?”

Everyone stared at Jax, waiting for an answer. He dragged his hand across his face. “In a nut shell,” he said, “I have no real clue what we’re looking for, but it will appear a bit off from the rest of the police reports. Maybe someone who wouldn’t be on the street.” He shrugged.

“Perfect,” Truman snapped before he flung his file across the mahogany desk. “Your mother and I are going for a walk.” Dottie nearly tripped over her feet in her rush to get out of the door.

“I can use a break,” Dottie sung over her shoulder. In a matter of seconds, the couple had their coats in hand. Truman and Dottie abandoned her. Lane watched from the window as they grabbed and giggled their way into the woods.

“Maybe they’ll come back after they get some air.” Jax snaked his hand around her shoulder with a sweet familiarity and joined her at the window.

“I’m thinking they’ll be back after they get done having sex in the woods—”

“Oh, God!” He gagged. “Don’t ever,” Jax scolded, leaning over his knees in a dramatic fashion, “put sex and my parents in the same sentence.” He gave a few mock dry heaves.

“Fine. They’ll be back after their break.” She threw up the air quotes. “Or they’re going to take a nap because they will be too exhausted after their
break
and will need one.”