Unstable (29 page)

His laugh is nervous, much like the unnecessary straightening of his tie. “He warned me you’d ask that, and frankly, Ms. Calvert, he said I’d be fired if I answered. So how about we act like this conversation never happened?”

I contain my frustration, for now. It’s not Mr. Boles’ fault. “Alright. I understand. Consider it forgotten.”

His relief is palpable.

We rejoin Keaton, and I avoid his wondering eyes…for his own good. He does
not
want to get into this with me right now.

Or maybe he does.

“What was that about?” he asks.

“Nothing.” I hitch a shoulder. “I just had a few questions. No big deal.”

“Why couldn’t I hear? Thought we were in this together?”

It takes everything in me not to call him out on his hypocrisy. Threatening my lawyer, he’d be fired if he told me the fee. Paying him behind my back. Hiring him without even telling me.

Together my ass.

And while I’m mad, I’m not livid…he’s just trying to help me. But there’s another
crucial
issue I’ll not wait another second to address.

“By the way,
Darlin’,
” my smile’s sickeningly sweet, “since you
also
call Addison that, you better never say it to me again. Ever. I mean it.”

“What? I didn’t—” He stops, realization moving in a slow wave over his face. “Shit, Hen, I’m sorry. It just slipped out, I didn’t mean it.”

“So am I to believe it just
slips out
when you say it to me, and you don’t mean it then either?” I question with raised brows and pursed lips.

“No.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I do mean it with you. I’m sorry. I fucked up. How bad is it?” His eyes implore mine for easy forgiveness.

“I realize it’s a common word around here, and I absolutely believe you didn’t mean anything endearing when you said it to her. But now it’s tainted and I don’t ever want to hear it when you’re talking to me again. You promise me that and stick to it, we’re fine.”

“Done. I swear.” His relief pours off him and he gives me a quick kiss.

I grab his shirt to keep him close. “And Keaton? Don’t say it to any other girls ever again either.”

One corner of his mouth curls up and his eyes twinkle. “Yes, ma’am,” he lowers his lips to my ear and husks, “jealous Henny is fucking hot.”

A throat clears loudly and I jolt, but Keaton settles me by wrapping an arm around my waist.

There stands Merrick, attempting to appear superior. “If the two of you would like to come on back…” He turns to head that way.

“
Three
of us,” Keaton corrects him and Mr. Boles stands from the seat he’d taken in the lobby, walking to our side. “This is David Boles, Attorney and Counsel for Ms. Calvert.”

“I see.” Merrick’s face loses all color. “Alright, if the
three
of you will follow me. Addison,” he looks at his jittery co-conspirator, “hold all calls or visits.”

“Yes, Sir,” she whispers, ducking her head.

We proceed toward his office, Keaton’s hold around me strong and sure.

And so it begins.

The two lawyers do most of the talking, citing this law or that, arguing, issuing politely concealed threats…while Keaton and I sit silent, just listening.

Mr. Boles apparently knows his stuff, because Merrick has undone his tie and a button, and downed several glasses of water. His hands shake and he stutters through almost everything he tries to say.

A few times Mr. Boles asks me a question, which I answer in a sturdy voice, but Merrick can’t even look at me, let alone ask me anything.

Then, four grueling hours later, Mr. Boles stands and gathers the thick stack of papers, many of which he instructed me to sign.

“Keaton, Ms. Calvert, I’ll get everything filed tomorrow and give you a call with any other questions I have, but I think it’s pretty clear what happened here. It will be taken care of, immediately. Mr. Watson, I’ll get back with you on my planned course of action…when I’m ready to.”

He shakes both mine and Keaton’s hands, leaving the remaining three of us alone.

And the second the door shuts behind him, Merrick’s true colors come bursting out.

“What the hell, Henley? I took care of things for you, gave you time, and
this
is how you repay me? Calling in your pathetic cavalry to accuse me of things that could end my career?”

I open my mouth, ready to fire back, but this
certain
bossy man in the room beats me to it.

“Merrick,” Keaton’s icily calm tone is a worse sign than if he was screaming. “I’m gonna say this one time and then we’re done, once and for all. You no longer have anything to do with or say to Henley. You see her out, cross the street. You hear her name, go deaf and keep your mouth shut. Not asking ya, telling ya. You took care of things for
you
, tricked her, and fucking
stole
from her! Rooting for her
not
to make it. She showed your sorry ass though, didn’t she? So don’t even think about trying to make her feel guilty. And her cavalry isn’t too pathetic, we got you strung up by the balls. It’s over, you’re busted. So get ready to start dealing with your consequences. Let’s go, Hen.” He stands, offering me his hand.

That was so sexy. I’m totally taking off his buckle for him later.

But my enjoyment is short-lived. Of course it is…Merrick’s in the room.

Speak of the mood killer, he sneers loudly. “
Hen?
How the hell did you get involved anyway, Cash? I always knew you had a hard-on for my girlfriend. What, her crazy ass comes back to town and you start hitting that? Were you fucking him when you were with me,
Hen
? Exactly how long have you been his whore, moving like a puppet when he says so?”

“You son of a—”

“Go wait in the truck, Hen. Now.” Keaton’s bark is deadly intense and
should
leave absolutely no wiggle room for argument.

But I try anyway…because this is bad. Real bad.

“Keaton—”

“Henley, I said
now
. Take my phone.” He shoves it in my hand then traps my eyes, his the color of cold steel. “Wait. In. The. Truck.”

Against all better judgment, I nod and rush out, flying past Addison and to his truck. I
try
to jump in, fully intending to lock the doors and wait…but he didn’t hand me his keys.

So I wait
by
the truck, not just real gung-ho to walk back in there and ask for them.

I WAIT IMPATIENTLY, IGNORING
the curious stares of the few people who walk by. I’ve managed to bite one nail down so far to the quick that it’s bleeding, and yet I continue onto a different nail as I watch Addison come out, carrying a box to her car.

Even with her hands full, she’s still able to flip me off.

Multitasker.

I’m not sorry she got fired. Seems a pretty mild consequence for conspiracy to commit fraud. Or harboring the truth of a fugitive. I don’t know what it’d be deemed exactly, but something severe, with a long title and lots of fancy words.

Suddenly, I hear the fast approaching sounds of sirens. Two of them. And I know it’s two because that’s how many cops we have in this town. And I know where they’re headed.

Here.

I run as fast as my unsteady legs will carry me back into the office, the threat of vomit looming, thinking of the many possible scenarios I may be about to find.

“Oh my God,” I gasp, shoving both hands in my hair. “Keaton, what have you done?”

“Couldn’t let him talk to you like that, Hen. He’ll be fine, busted up is all, but I’m pretty sure I heard a couple bones break, so I did the decent thing and called for help. I’ll be going to jail. Need you to stay by my phone, I’ll call you. Okay?”

I can only nod, staring at a bloody, beaten Merrick lying on the floor. Moaning in agony. Our town cops push past me and from that point on, everything’s a blur, until I’m once again aware that I’m watching them stuff Merrick in the ambulance that arrived and Keaton in the back of a cop car. Handcuffed.

Moving in numb auto-pilot, I take a chance that didn’t dawn on me until desperation set in and dig under the truck for a hidden key box, luckily finding one since he didn’t think to hand me those.
Again.
And what with the serene scene and all, silly me forgot to ask.

I check his phone, making sure it’s not on vibrate and the volume’s all the way up, then I do the only thing I can do—I drive home.

And wait some more. For his call. Like he told me to.

Bourbon feels the tension in the air, in me, staying right by my side with big, worried eyes.

It’s
hours
before his phone finally rings, not even a full one before I answer.

“Keaton?”

“Yeah baby, it’s me. Finally got my damn phone call. Don’t have long, so stay calm and listen to me carefully, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Need you to come post bail for me. Realized a lil’ late that I didn’t give ya my keys, sorry, but I take it you found the one under the truck. Good girl. Now, the key to my house is hidden under the spot where you slapped me that time, remember? And my safe has cash, grab a thousand. It’s in my room, you’ll know behind what when you see it. Code’s the same as my phone, you can guess it. Need you on your game, Henny.”

“Uh huh, okay, I’ll try. Why are you talking in weird clues?”

“Never know who may be listening on this town landline. I had to
rotary
dial you, for God’s sake. I’m not gonna spell it out for any eavesdroppers how to rob me. You can do this, just think baby. About us. You’ll get it.”

“Do you want me to call Mr. Boles?”

“Nah, I’ll take care of all the aftermath later. Just get me out of here.”

“I will,” I force reassurance into my voice. “Be there soon.”

“That’s my girl. See ya in a bit.”

The call disconnects and I spring into action, racing to his truck and making it to his neighboring ranch in minutes. Then I start deciphering his riddles.

House key—hidden where I slapped him. I can’t recall ever…oh, yes I can!

We were playing hide and seek, me having found a great hiding spot shrunk down behind his mom’s huge Hydrangea bush. But he found me, surprise blitz, and “tagged” me with a kiss on the cheek. So…I slapped him. Probably a bit drastic, yes, but I was young, shocked, and hell-bent on the rivalry I thought we shared.

I use the light on the phone to search beneath the bush, and voila, I find a fake rock with a false bottom. I slide it open and grab the key.

On to clue number two.

I get the front door open and flip on some lights, trying to think of the last time I was here. No, no time for reminiscing.

I take the stairs two at a time to his bedroom and flick on the light. The room represents him well: raw wood furniture, grays and blues the main colors and a fake fireplace. By the window, an oversized chair strategically placed where he can look out and survey his land.

And again, I’m getting distracted by my thoughts, wasting precious time.

“
Safe is in my room, you’ll know behind what when you see it.”

My eyes scan frantically, none of the furniture “calling to me.” I search behind and under all of it anyway, coming up empty, like I sensed I would. Only thing left is the walls, decorated with trophies, awards and…
I’ll be damned.

If he was here right now, I’d pounce on him, unleashing the overwhelming feelings that I now know the meaning of all over his face and lips. He continually surprises me with extreme thoughtfulness—thoughts of
me
—that he did just because, never expecting credit.

There, hung on his wall in a huge, beautiful, natural wood frame is a picture of him and I, splashing in the river together. Well, to be fair, he was playfully splashing, I was actually trying vainly to dunk him under. I remember the exact moment his mom took it…because he looked over at her…and I seized the opportunity and dunked him.

My eyes mist with emotion as I walk over and take it down, leaning it carefully against the wall.

And there’s the safe.

“Code’s the same as my phone.”

“You know my code, bet you can guess it in less than three.”

First I try punching his birthday into the digital pad—0823. Nope.

Okay, guys think simple—1234. Not right either.

And then, a thought occurs to me.
Surely not.
There I go again with pompous assumptions. But he’s not here to see my conceitedness, so I take a chance, and key in
my
birthday—0712.

And it opens.

The code to the safe, hidden behind a picture of us, is my birthday. And now I know, is also the special number he chose to unlock his phone.

I’d lay on his bed, soak up his scent, and allow myself to go giddy at the never-ending romanticism, but my man’s in jail, waiting for me. So I grab the money, close the safe, lock up the house and mash the pedal to the floorboard back to town.

But not before I take a second to program the ringtone into his phone that he’s been waiting on me to choose. I finally thought of the perfect song.