Upper Hand (Cedar Tree Book 5) (24 page)

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A
gun?
She wants to carry a gun?

“You’re allowed to have a gun, but to carry it concealed, you need a license. I can probably hook you up with one, but do you really think that’s wise? Can you even shoot?” Drew asks Beth.

“I can learn.”

“
Fuck me
,” I let slip out loud, earning a scathing look from Beth. “Bean, I have a license to carry. I don’t usually, but I’m going to now. No need for you to have one. I’m still not planning to leave your side. Besides, I know how to shoot.”

From the look on her face, I didn’t exactly help myself.

“Missing the point, Clint. I
need
to have some control—something I can do for myself. I know you’re all big controlling apes at heart, but this ‘
little lady
’ wants to be able to stand up for herself.”  The intended sarcasm does not go unnoticed and I tag her behind the neck and put my face close to hers.

“That’s twice. Your ass is gonna be red,” I tell her, hopefully low enough so only she hears, but from the muted chuckle coming from Gus, he got an earful too. Beth blushes a pretty red. Immediately my thoughts travel to putting that same pretty red color to her ass with my hand. I’m so distracted by the image, I realize too late she’s out of her chair and walking toward the door with Drew in tow. Gus is still chuckling.

“Hands full with that one, maybe even more so than Emma was for me. But trust me when I say, when these women lay their sweetness on you, it’s worth every fucking frustrating step it takes to get them there.”

“I know it,” I tell him, before following Drew out the door to where Beth is already filling out the necessary paperwork at the front counter.
Hell
.

By the time we get in the car, Beth is the proud owner of a fast-tracked permit to carry a concealed weapon, and she’s happy with it in a way that has me concerned. I turn to Gus who slips into the driver’s seat. “Do you have time for a drive to the  gun store and shooting range in Mancos?” I ask him. He just grins as he turns over the engine and rolls into the road, going east.

“Was already planning to,” he says, still grinning as Beth starts clapping her hands in the back seat.

“This is so cool!”

“Babe—this is serious,” I growl at her and in return she sticks out her tongue to me. Now Gus is laughing out loud. “You guys are both nuts,” I grumble, not at all happy with this turn of events but knowing there’s not a damn thing I can do to stop her. Best I can do is try and make sure she’s got a basic grasp. Fuck me sideways.

_

After picking out a small caliber gun for Beth, one that would fit in her purse, we spent about two hours teaching her how to take it apart and put it back together, load it, and hopefully only pull it out when absolutely necessary. Target practice was pretty hilarious with her popping her gum while she was concentrating on her aim and jumping up and down each time she hit even part of the body’s outline. Although I almost had a heart attack the first time she did ‘cause she was waving the damn gun around while doing it. A little more secure that she at least had a general idea of how to use it, Gus drove us home and left to do some ‘work.’

Beth had just checked in with Arlene to let her know she’d be back tomorrow and I’d given Jed a call, telling him he’d have to do without me a few days more.

I’m not about to leave her alone if I can help it. Not that she’d be alone, Neil is at the house still working on the outside cameras and once done, Mal is apparently going to take his place keeping an eye out.

“You hungry?” Beth’s voice comes from the kitchen, where she’s been putzing around for the past ten minutes.

“I could eat,” I tell her, walking up behind her and lifting her pony tail off her neck so I can put my lips there. “Whatcha making?”

“Grilled cheese, okay?”

“Sounds good to me,” I pull out a stool and sit, watching her move around the kitchen. “How are you doing?” I ask softly when I spot the worry lines around her mouth. Sure she’d acted all excited while we were at the gun range, but I figured reality would slip back around her with a vengeance at some point.

“I’m fine.”

“Beth...” I growl at her in warning, knowing full well by now that ‘
fine
’ when from the mouth of a woman rarely means just that. Don’t want her holing up inside her ‘can-take-care-of-myself’ cocoon again. “Talk to me.”

“I’m freaked out is what I am. Happy now? I’m terrified for Dylan, still shaky over what happened yesterday, and I don’t even wanna think about the possibility of something happening to Max. I have no control over anything right now and it freaks me the hell out!” She drops the knife in her hand on the counter, and I barely manage to snag her around the waist as she makes to run past me. She struggles for only a minute before she turns around and plants her face in my shirt, crying.

“No, Bean. I’m not happy at all. Not happy about any of it. Not about your son, or about this situation—and certainly not happy about the fact that you are still trying to carry the load on your own.” On that, she stiffens in my arms, making to pull away, but I’m not letting her. I slide a hand alongside her neck and use my thumb to tilt her face up. “Listen to me. I need you to hear me clearly. There is nothing wrong with leaning a little when you need to.” I feel the tight little shake of her head and can see her stubborn streak rejecting what I’m saying, so I cup her face in my hands and lean in close. “It has nothing to do with being capable or not, or being strong or not. It has to do with being smart enough to recognize you’re not alone anymore and strong enough to know when to lean on that one person who will not let you fall.” This time she hears me. Her eyes soften and new tears well up, but I want to make sure she gets it. “Babe—I’m that person. I won’t let you fall. Not ever.”

“M
ore coffee?”

I’ve been here for half an hour and am still getting strange looks. Shouldn’t surprise me since my twin black eyes are slowly turning shades of purple and yellowish green. I tried to cover them with makeup but it looked even more ridiculous with than without, so I decided to go au naturel. Not so sure anymore if that was the right decision, though. Every eye in the damn diner is following me around, and I feel like a fucking monkey in a zoo.

Mal is sitting in the corner booth, nursing a coffee while keeping an eye out. My protection for the day, since I insisted Clint check on his business while I work. He wasn’t very receptive at first, but when I pointed out I’d have a diner full of eyes on me, he finally gave in. I didn’t know I’d be so close to the truth. Hate being the centre of attention.

“Sure.” Mrs. Evans, who lives just down the street from Arlene and Seb, smiles at me when she says it, but doesn’t bother hiding the concern on her face. “You alright, dear? I mean, it’s not my business to pry, but I see a woman with a black eye, let alone two of them, and I can’t help but think of the big fists that made them so.” She shakes her head, but before I have a chance to say anything she goes on, “I was rooting for him, hoping he’d get his girl. Can’t believe I had him pegged so wrong, honey. I’m so sorry.”

In shock, I realize she thinks Clint did this. Oh hell no. If that is what people think, I need to straighten that out right now. Without hesitation, I stand up straight and look around at all of the faces turned my way. Almost the entire fucking diner is gawking, and even more so when they watch me slam down the coffee pot in front of Mrs. Evans and march over to the counter, where I pull out a stool and climb on top.

“I’d like everyone’s attention?” I call out, before realizing every eye is already on me. Of course. I’m standing, teetering on a fucking stool in the middle of the diner. I
have
everyone’s attention. “Right. So I have two black eyes and a busted up nose and I’ve seen y’all looking. Sweet Mrs. Evans just made it clear to me how small of a town this is, so instead of you folks speculating about what might’ve happened and making up all kinds of stories on your own, I’ll fill you all in at once. I was attacked in Durango in the parking lot of a clinic by someone I don’t know. Clint came out and chased him off. I’m fine, Clint is fine. Police report’s been filed. End of story.” Trying not to look at the semi-shocked faces of the diners, I start climbing down the stool when two firm hands grab my hips. I turn my head to find Seb with a grin on his face holding on to me. “Thanks,” I mumble when I get down, suddenly pretty damn mortified.

“Atta girl, Beth. Beat me to it,” Arlene pipes up from behind the counter where she’s been shooting daggers from her eyes. Not at me, but at the gawkers. “Was about ready to start throwing condiment bottles.” She indicates the row of bottles in front of her she’s been refilling. Seb slings his arm around my shoulders and leans forward into Arlene’s face.

“Better not, Spot. Insurance is high enough as it is. We don’t need lawsuits and assault charges to raise it to astronomical proportions.” Seb, generally laid back and good-natured, knows exactly how to handle the easily inflammable Arlene. Good thing too since they’ve been together a couple of years now...and both are still breathing.

“Whatever.” Arlene shakes her short blonde locks. “Love this small town, don’t get me wrong, but everyone is always so damn nosy!”

Now it’s my turn to chuckle. Because in front of me is probably the nosiest of them all, and I grudgingly have to admit I’m probably in second place.

God, I need a coffee.
That reminds me
. Giving Seb’s waist a quick squeeze and winking out of one of my now purple eyes, I quickly make my way over to Mrs. Evans’ table, where I so unceremoniously plunked down the coffee pot earlier, catching a chin lift and the tiniest of smiles from Mal, who’s observing from the corner. Poor Mrs. Evans looks positively mortified when I approach. Reaching out her hand she clasps my arm.

“I’m so sorry.” Poor thing had her bottom lip quivering and I’m quick to react, slipping in the booth beside her and giving her a good hug.

“Nothing to be sorry about, Mrs. Evans. You’re looking out for me, and I really appreciate that, but I had to clear the air so people wouldn’t start looking funny at Clint. He’s the last person who deserves that.”

“Well, I’m sorry I thought he had anything to do with it, too.”  She purses her lips. “Should’ve stuck with my first impression of him. A good man, who I knew would be perfect for you.”

“Yeah? Well, he’s nice enough, I’ll give you that. And he takes good care of me.” My thoughts automatically return to the day before when he’d vowed to have my back. He about melted me with those words, but I made him swear not to make me cry again the rest of the day, and he hadn’t. We’d gone to the clinic to get him his work out with Kendra and give me a chance to catch up with Naomi. We had a quiet dinner at home and tried to invite Mal inside, who was keeping watch from his truck, but he couldn’t be moved from his vantage point. Then we curled up on the couch, watched another few episodes of “Sons of Anarchy” and made our way to bed. Got a little heated there, what with the vision of Jax’s nice tight ass still burned on my brain and the solid and hard-all-over body of Clint under my hands. It started wild and uninhibited and ended sweet and intense. There’d been one point where I was sure he was going to say something, but his mouth closed again. I swear he let me read all he’d wanted to say in his eyes.

A light cough draws me out of my head to find Mrs. Evans regarding me with amusement. “That good, huh?”

Shaking my head and laughing, I give her a kiss on the cheek, grab the now cold pot of coffee and get back to work.

-

“B
eth—phone!”

Arlene’s hollering from the kitchen doorway, causing every eye in the diner to go first to her before turning to me.  Despite my earlier public explanation for my slightly battered appearance, it doesn’t diminish the eyes from following me across the diner. By this time though, a lot of the earlier crowd has disappeared and been replaced with new diners, these come in before the dinner rush and for a second I contemplate a repeat of my earlier performance but I nix that plan quickly.

“Hello?” I answer when Arlene hands me the phone and walks into the diner to keep an eye out. I rest my shoulder against the door post when a small movement from the corner catches my eye. Mal is tilting his head questioningly. He’s been sitting in that corner my entire shift and must be bored out of his brain right now. I shrug my shoulders at him.

“Hello—who’s this?” I try again, but this time I can hear noises in the background. A rustling sound. Then I hear breathing, almost like panting...

“Beth...” The breathless, raspy voice is familiar.

I instantly snap up from the wall and my eyes fly to Mal as I answer, “Clint? What’s the matter?”

“Beth... don’t...” Then I hear a scuffle, a loud ‘NO’ and a big thud.

“Clint?” I’m yelling now, my hands barely able to hang on the phone. “Cl—“

“A choice, Beth,” a clipped voice suddenly comes over the line. “Your son or your man. You have twenty-four hours to deliver your son, or I start sending your man back—in pieces.”