Upper Hand (Cedar Tree Book 5) (37 page)

I feel her body stiffen under me before she pushes back and forces me to roll over on my back. Now she’s leaning over me and there is anger in her eyes.

“Hurt me? Did I give you any indication of that? You would never.”

“Babe, I was brutal.”

“
Babe
,” she mocks me, “you were perfect. Fucked me just the way I wanted you to.” Her face softens when she leans in closer, her breath feathering over my face. “I trusted that—and you trusted me to be able to take what you needed to give. Biggest high I’ve ever had. Best feeling. Like barreling down from the biggest loop of a roller-coaster with your arms high up in the air. Except better.”

“Bean...” I try, the depth of emotions constricting my throat. A small smile from her before her mouth descends on mine and she
takes
all of it. God, I love this woman.

“
Gammy...
”

“The lord and master of the house beckons,” she whispers against my lips, “I’d better go see to him before he tears his bed apart.”

I watch as Beth slips from the bed, quickly tagging her clothes and covering up, but not before giving me a eyeful of her luscious curves.

-

S
now.

It’s been falling steadily now for at least two hours and already you can barely see the ground anymore. A system that came in from the West Coast, a little further to the south than expected, hit the cold air and the result is snow. Copious amounts of it. According to the weather station it’s virtually stationary at this point, held up by the Rockies, so we’re in for a treat. Good thing the fridge is full.

“Snow!” Max has his little face pressed to the window and is watching the white stuff gather in the yard. I’m thinking I should’ve built him a sled instead.

I drove Beth into work, under protest, but I wasn’t gonna let her take the slick roads in that old rust bucket of hers with four bald tires. Seb said he’d drop her off back here, so I didn’t have to pack the little guy in the truck again to pick her up.

Max and I have been hanging out, and I just fed him mac and cheese with hotdogs, apparently a favorite ‘cause he gobbled that shit up. I could barely get it down. Not a big fan of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese, I caved after spending a good half hour on the phone with Gus, filling him in on the arrival of Tammy’s parents and their concern about their daughter. He was going to talk to that rat-bastard, Damien, to see if he could have a word with Dylan. He might have some insight as to where she’s gone off to. He was also going to get Neil on the old desktop computer that had been in their house when Mal went to clean it up. By the time I got off the phone, Max had climbed on my lap, was patting my cheek with his little hand and kept saying, “hungwy.” I took his insistence seriously, given that he hadn’t had anything since lunch and that’s how I ended up with the box of Kraft in my hand.

“Wanna go outside with me, buddy? Dress really warm and play in the snow for a bit?” His little head nods and his smile almost splits his face in half. Guess I have my answer. I know it’s time for him to go to bed, but looking at his excited face, I know there won’t be much sleep yet, anyway. Better let him get some of that energy out of his system.

Dusk has set in, but there was still a little bit of light out, with the back door light on we’ll still be able to see what we’re doing. I dress him in the snowsuit Beth unearthed from one of the bags of clothes from his house. Not an easy feat, with little arms and legs hyped up on excitement over the first taste of snow. I pull on my own parka, which hasn’t seen light since last year’s snowfall, and instead of my cowboy hat, pull a beanie over my head. I’ll enjoy the lack of hair come summer, but for now it is fucking cold.

The moment I open the back door, Max runs past my legs and throws himself on the snow-covered lawn, giggling loudly. I watch him, smiling, thinking ‘what the hell’ and throw myself down beside him. Doesn’t take long to teach him to make a fine snow angel, which he proceeds to do all over the yard.

That’s how Beth finds us.

-

-

L
ast thing I expected to find coming home is an empty house. When I walk through, dumping my bag and coat on the couch, I hear high pitched giggles, along with much deeper chuckles, coming from the backyard. Opening the sliding door, I spot my two guys rolling in the snow and despite the now bitter cold, a solid warmth settles deep in my chest.

“Gammy’s home!” Max spots me and comes running, jumping up in my arms, making me wish I hadn’t thrown off my coat before checking outside. His snow-covered body plastered against my front, I can feel the moisture seeping into my clothes. Clint follows close behind, the black beanie a worthy replacement for his ratty cowboy hat; he looks scrumptious. Even with his red nose, ice clumps in his scruff and almost blue lips.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his icy lips warming themselves on mine.

“You guys are freezing! Get inside.” I smile as my teeth start chattering. Reason for Clint to take charge, pluck Max from me and push me backward into the warm house.

“Run a bath, Bean. You’re soaked through and shivering. You can take Max in with you.” His head dips down and he lays a deep kiss on me. Almost enough to warm me up, but not quite. A bath sounds great actually, although the variety foremost in my mind includes bubbles, candles, and a good book. I’m pretty sure bathtime with Max looks a bit different. Setting out towels within reach and fixing the temperature of the water, not too hot for the little guy, I strip out of my clothes and sink in, just as Clint walks in with a shivering and buck naked little boy.

“Gotta go throw his bedding in the dryer,” Clint says, as he plops Max in the tub in front of me. “Before I caught up with him, he had most of his gear off and tossed in his crib. Even soaked the mattress pad.”

“Okay,” I mumble, settling back against the tub, my hands on Max who is happily splashing in the warm water. Not a moment later I shoot up straight when I hear Clint yell.

“What the ever-loving FUCK?”

“Y
ou’re back.”

Arlene approaches our booth, eyes on Des and Janet.

We’d called them this morning, suggesting we meet at the diner since those roads would be plowed. It hadn’t stopped snowing until early this morning, and the road to Clint’s place was still covered. It would probably not be taken care of until later this afternoon. His truck would do fine with the four-wheel drive, but Tammy’s parents might have a problem getting through in their Chrysler. So we bundled Max up, strapped him in the seat in the back, and maneuvered our way through the drifts.

Beautiful—Cedar Tree covered in snow. It’s pretty any time of year, but there is something magical about the first, pristine, fluffy white layer of the season covering everything in sight. Despite the late hour last night and the unexpected discovery Clint made, I feel invigorated this morning. Ready to take on the world. Clint had taken the day off, leaving his business in the capable hands of his foremen, and we’d made plans to go see Jed later.

I’d left Clint in deep discussion with Gus and Joe last night, barely even able to keep my eyes open. Clint had scared the crap out of me when he yelled out. When unzipping the mattress pad from Max’s crib, he’d found a stash of money taped to cardboard slipped between the two foam layers of the mattress. Almost ten thousand dollars worth. As I was scrambling to get Max and myself out of the tub, he’d already nabbed the phone and was obviously talking to Gus, by the time I carried my little guy into his bedroom.

“Yeah, I’ll see you in a bit. Careful, the roads are treacherous,” he cautioned before turning to me.

“What in the blazes?” I couldn’t quite grasp the sight of a piece of cardboard that looked to be lined with money and wrapped in plastic, leaning against the crib. Clint walked up and wrapped an arm around me.

“Found that. Not a clue who’d do that, stick a wad of cash into a baby’s mattress, but there it is.” He waved his other hand at the money. “First thing Gus said, when I called him, was that it finally made sense why that brother of Tammy’s was so eager to get in my house. Figures money like that could drive a man like that to break and enter.”

“How did we miss that? I mean, we moved that damn mattress twice.” I turned to Gus, wanting to know.

Clint shrugs his shoulders. “Never had cause to take the pad off before and both times it went in the back of a truck. The cardboard’s not heavy, is flat and was stuck between the foam layers. Wouldn’t have noticed either, unless we’d tried to fold it or—like what happened—we pulled the pad off.”

It may have made sense to Gus and even Clint, but it was still muddled in my head. By the time he and Joe finally got here, Max’s bed was made up with dry sheets, sans money this time, which was neatly stacked on the coffee table, and I’d just finished putting him down. The three of them sat down to brainstorm when I found myself nodding off on the couch. An emotional day, a busy one, and a good four hours running around the diner followed by a warm bath had done me in.

“Go to bed, Bean. You’re practically sleeping already,” Clint says softly, leaning over me, after which he kisses me softly on the lips. Company be damned. I quietly comply, pushing up from the couch, and bidding goodnight to the guys, who look on with amused smiles. Whatever.

This morning Clint woke me with coffee and Max in bed and told me the plan. This is now something else to discuss with Des and Janet and will likely not be easy to hear for parents.

“Mornin’,” Des rumbles at Arlene, who is oblivious to the grumpy and slightly abrasive man across the table. Janet just smiles sweetly, a little distracted by our shared grandson, sitting at the end in a highchair and playing with her bracelet.

“Hey, Arlene,” I say a bit more upbeat, which earns me a smile. From Arlene that’s something. Clint’s “Hi, girl,” goes even further. He gets teeth with his. And of course Max is totally ignorant to all the tension flying around the table and just reaches his arms out to her, which is rewarded with a raspberry in his neck that leaves him giggling loudly. Janet smiles at this, but Des looks sour. The man’s in a mood, although I can’t really blame him, his son in jail and daughter on the lam. Still...

“I’ve already told Seb my scrumptious nugget is here, so he’s pulling out the chicken fingers, but what can I get you folks? Lunch special is—“

“Just bring me a club sandwich and a coffee,” Des cuts Arlene off, which has Janet admonishing him under her breath. The mumbled, “sorry” that follows, barely audible.

“I’d like to hear the special,” Janet says, immediately cementing herself in my good book. Des may be under stress but he’s still being an ass. That’s why Arlene, never one to hide her feelings, sends him a dirty look and turns her best smile on Janet. The one
with
teeth.

“Smart move, the special is awesome, because my husband is a great cook. Hungarian stuffed peppers in spicy red pepper and tomato sauce. Not too spicy,” she adds quickly, noticing the look of concern on Janet’s face, “but just enough to warm you up from the inside out.”

“Can vouch for those,” Clint rumbles beside me, “had them before and I’m having them again. Sign me up, girl.”

“Me too, please, Arlene,” I add my order in.

“Okay, I’m convinced. Me three,” Janet adds with a little flair, before eyeing her husband with her eyebrow raised.

“I’ll just stick with my club,” he says stubbornly.

“Spoilsport...” I distinctly hear Janet say, even though she’s pretending to be busy, folding her napkin on her lap.

I’m not alone holding back a laugh, Arlene whips around and takes off to the kitchen without a word, but I see her shoulders moving, and Clint’s hand resting on my shoulder is squeezing hard.

-

“Y
ou’re telling me someone stuck ten thousand dollars in the mattress?” Des is incredulous and I can’t really blame him. After we’ve eaten, Clint and I recount the entire story, beginning to end, and hearing all at once it does all seem incredible.

Janet on the other hand, puts her hand on my arm. “Are you okay? I mean, are you going to be?” she says carefully, doing her best not to look at the scar on my cheek and only partially succeeding.

“I’m fine now, and am only going to get better once I hug my son, we find your Tammy, and we figure out whose money that is.”

“Right,” she says, before turning her attention back to Max, who’s happily chewing on some fries.

“Seriously?” I hear Clint’s growl and follow his glare to the diner’s entrance, at Special Agent Damien Gomez who just walked in. Afraid of further confrontations, I put my hand over Clint’s, which he has fisted on the table.

-