Wrangled Mess (11 page)

“I know. Now go.” She shooed him away to reveal my Wrangler standing just behind him.

“Oh good grief. Are they all this clingy??” I asked her.

“I think so. Come on, let’s go outside and talk before they start scaring people.” She gave my arm another squeeze before hooking her arm through Turner’s. “You are such a pain. Why couldn’t you wait outside?” Of course there was no answer.

Trace draped his good arm around my shoulders, “Well?”

“Well… you’re about as big a pain in the butt as Turner.” I teased earning a behind Turner’s back thumbs up from Georgia in front of us.

Trace missed it because he’s focused on me. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on??” There’s that demanding Colson I love.

“I have two weeks to tie Jackson into this. If I can’t, then I go down for tax fraud. I need to prove Jackson masterminded this whole thing.”

Georgia shooed the guys away once we got outside and faced me looking rushed, “Listen. The second this hits the media, which will be any day now that he feels threatened, I want you to down play it. Whatever you do, don’t mention the club. You can say you’re lawyers are handling it. That’s it. You need to make sure Wrangler does the same. If you bad mouth Mr. Gold in any way, this can backfire on us.”

“How is it going to look if I take off with Trace to make love all over some mountain? Who’s going to watch his company, and my house?”

“Slider wants you both out of town in case Jackson decides to take another shot at either of you. I suggest you go. I’ll take care of things on this end. Call me once a day. We’ll catch up. Okay?”

“I’m putting a lot of faith in you.”

She nodded her agreement, “Got a better idea?”

“No. If I go to jail, Trace is going to go bat shit crazy.” I feel the need to warn her, not only because it’s true, but I need someone to look out for him if I do end up in jail for a couple years. I doubt I’d get more than that, but it still wouldn’t go over well.

“You won’t go to jail. I can assure you that much. Worst case scenario you pay the IRS as much as Jackson stole, and live the next seven years with IRS audits.”

“I’m liking you less and less.” I joked. She knows better.

“That’s worse case Celeste. I want to nail this guy because he pissed Slider off going after Wrangler. Between you and me, if you and I can’t take him down legally…”

I put my hand up. “I don’t need to hear the rest of that.”

“Good. Now get out of town, tell everyone you and Jackson parted ways amicably, and you’re taking some time off to gather your thoughts. If it comes out you’re with another man, just be honest, but discreet. Got it?”

“I think so. Where should we go?”

She snapped her fingers and grabbed her purse off her shoulder to start digging. “I thought you might need a hand there. Turner has more money than sense. He bought this boat but we never use it. He prefers the woods to the ocean.” She handed me a set of keys. “I’ll text you the dock address and key code. Head to San Diego. I already called ahead, just in case, so the marina knows you’re coming.”

“What about Trace’s company?”

“He’s worked with enough prospects at the club I think they can field a few calls for him. He can advise from San Diego for a couple weeks. This is all doable Celeste. Try to relax and enjoy your old man. Keep your phones nearby.”

“I need a drink.”

She smiled and took my hand to lead us back to the two men who look nothing alike. “Me too.”

11

“Do you know anything about boats?” Trace asked handing his truck keys over to the prospect that will be filling in for him.

“No. I thought all men knew about boats. Aren’t you guys born knowing how engines work, and how boats float?”

He grabbed his two duffel bags like some strength is coming back in his arm. Good. Poor guy. I want to kiss all his boo-boo’s. After diving into the desert foliage to track down all his critters, he looks like was in a wrestling match with a cactus and lost.

“No baby, but I do know a little. We can ask somebody if we can’t figure it out.”

“Oh my God. Be still my beating heart. A man who will ask for help?” I gasped. Seriously, that’s rare.

“You’re quite the comedian this afternoon.” He dropped the two bags in my car. There better not be any spiders in there. Maybe Bits will eat them. Ew. No. Then he’d have spider breath. I like his little snout wiggles and kissies.

“I’m hiding my apprehension about this IRS, and this Jackson crap, behind a really bad sense of humor.”

“I wouldn’t say really bad.” He opened the passenger door. “In you go.”

“You don’t want me to drive?”

“No. You drive like a little old lady. We’re going to get run over with you behind the wheel.”

“Ouch.”

“Come on Cookie, it’s a six hour drive. I want to get it over with so I can get off my ass and start nibbling on yours.”

I sunk into my car picking up Bits along the way. As usual he’s eager to see me. Between Trace and Bits I feel very loved.

We stopped at my place so I could pack a couple bags and lock up the house before heading south via Florence. The drive to Yuma is boring. It doesn’t get much more exciting from Yuma until you’re making the final descent into San Diego.

Trace and I talked about the case. He didn’t want to hear anything that suggested I might go to jail for a while. Me either, so we changed the subject.

We talked about the current living situation. I told him to just bring over whatever he wanted, that my house is his house now. He promised not to take over my life. I laughed and told him it was
way
too late for that.

Sometimes when there was a comfortable break in our conversations I’d think how wonderful it is to know he’ll be home with me every night. I never had that with Jackson. He might spend the night once a month, if that. I stopped counting. Stopped caring.

It occurred to me in one of my silence introspects that I’d stopped caring about Jackson a long time ago. I just hadn’t gotten around to doing anything about it. The talk of marriage stalled out because I didn’t want to move, and neither did he. My lazy non-confrontational side rode that out for a long time.

Not anymore. It’s pretty clear what Trace wants. Me. He can be a little rough around the edges, something I never thought I’d find attractive in a man, but this one wears it well.

He is definitely all man. His arms are huge. I can’t wrap my hand around them all the way. Two hands, almost.

“What are you doing?” He asked as I try to find a place where my fingers can touch around his bicep.

“Playing. Am I bothering you?”

“Not at all. I just wondered what you were fitting me for.”

“I need a new car with no console. Do they make cars with front bench seats anymore?” I shifted hating this hunk of plastic separating me from a man who’s begging to be touched.

“We’ll look into it. Any idea how big this boat is?”

“No. She just gave me the address of the marina, and the slip number. It’s going to be dark when we get there. I hope we can find it.”

“We’ll find it. You have Georgia’s number, right?”

“I do.”

“Remember those words. I plan to make you say them in front of a preacher here soon.”

“How soon?”

“How soon can you be ready?”

“Good question.”

We found the marina. We found the boat. Someday we’ll find our jaws that dropped so far they hit the dock, and bounced into the water. It took us a full two minutes to register this was in fact the correct boat. The writing across the side towards the front should have given it away,
Georgia
Peach
, but we still couldn’t believe it.

The dock master assured us this was the right boat, or yacht, as he gave us quick tour, then helped us locate a few key things on the boat we’d need for the night. I called Georgia as soon as he left.

“Are you kidding me??”

“What?”

“Do you know how big this thing is??”

“Turner’s a big guy, he needed a big boat. Do you like it?”

“I want to live in it!!”

“It’s all yours until the hearing. Maybe once this is over we’ll take it out for a celebratory spin.”

“Why on earth did Turner buy this monster boat if he never uses it?”

“Hang on. Honey, why’d you buy the boat? . . . I should have known. For me. I probably said something about wanting to go sailing in passing.” She explained.

I laughed, “Tell him it’s a beautiful boat, and thank you very much for letting us use it. We’ll take good care of her.”

“I know you will. I don’t know much about that thing, so you’re going to be better off asking the harbor master, or one of the guys working the docks, for help.”

“Got it.”

“Goodnight Cookie.” She teased.

“Ha ha. Night.”

Trace appeared from inside where he’d been unpacking. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just thanking Georgia for the water mansion. How are you doing?”

He stretched out on one of the longer parts of the sectional sofa on his stomach. “Ass hurts from sitting so long.”

“I’d offer to rub it, but I don’t think that would help.” I sat where the couch takes a turn along the back of the boat. We’re under a clear dark sky littered with stars.

“No. Probably not.” He nodded his approval when I chose to play in his hair instead.

“It’s been a long day.”

“Mm hmm.” I think I have a sleepy wrangler on my hands.

“Come on. I’ll lay down with you until you fall asleep.”

“I’m already asleep. You’re not tired?”

“No. My brain is going nuts. I was going to sit up and go through some emails. Write down some show ideas. Maybe read.”

“We could make out.”

“What are you? Fifteen? Besides, you look beat.”

“I’m getting a second wind.” He lied.

“Can I get you anything?”

“No Cookie, I’m fine. Go get your laptop and come back. I want you close.”

It’s so nice to be loved. Trace fell asleep to the ticking of my keyboard. I made lists and read emails until my thoughts felt a little more organized. The email from Joe was a bit alarming.

It held a detailed synopsis of everything he’d dug up on Jackson. The first line of the email told me if I wanted to use any of this in court I’d have to obtain the information legally. Fine by me. Once I know what’s going on I can find a way to handle it.

Jackson not only stole money from me, which on some level I feel is my own damn fault for not paying better attention, and for trusting him so completely, but he stole my pride, and that hurts. Joe attached a file with over a hundred emails in one week from several different women. Four, excluding me, women who all thought they were in a long term relationship with him.

Joe didn’t give any indication the women knew about each other. That doesn’t surprise me. I read a few of the emails then skipped further down in Joe’s email to find bank records indicating he was taking large deposits from these other women too.

Jackson is a con artist, plain and simple. I closed the lid on my laptop and sat back to look up at the stars. Jackson needs to go down. I wonder if Fletcher got fingerprints from Trace’s house. I wonder who they belong to if he did.

What will the club do? I don’t want to know. Jackson messed with the wrong people by taking a shot at a brother. Colson or not, the club will have their revenge, legal or otherwise. I don’t want to know about the latter.

“You okay Cookie?” Trace groaned and sat up.

“Yeah. I just read the email from Joe. I want to take Jackson down. He’s a con artist. A criminal. I have to find a way to prove he had me sign those tax forms without me knowing what I was signing. Better yet I’d like to find a way to track the money he stole legally, then file charges against him for grand larceny.”

“The club and your lawyers are working on it.”

“I know, but I feel like I need to do something. This is my life here. My money. My career. My love.” I reached over and took his hand in mine. “He tried to take you from me. Above everything else, that makes me the most angry.”

“You’re handling all this very well sweetheart. If you want to get angry, get angry. I wouldn’t recommend throwing a fit right now, but we can go for a ride out in the woods somewhere if you need to let out a good scream. I’m kind of surprised you haven’t unloaded on me for doing all this to you.”

“None of this is your fault. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine. Realizing he’s a low life con artist helps ease the burn. People get conned all the time. I just can’t believe it happened to me. Then you add in the fact that I could go to jail?? For something he did?? Oh! I just want to strangle him!”

“Maybe the club will do it for us. Actually, we need him alive to take the fall for your tax issue. Tracking that money he stole, and proving he stole it will go a long way with the IRS. There’s a lot of investigating going on right now. He took a shot at me, which means you have the entire network of bikers at your disposal. We’re talking untold resources. Trust me, between the club and the cops, Jackson will go down for this.”

“I just don’t want to go down with him. I like spending every moment I can with you. I’d miss you.”

He stood taking my hand so I’d follow. “I’ll steal you away to some foreign country with no extradition laws first.”

“That wouldn’t work. We have too much family here.” I stepped inside before he closed and locked the sliding glass door. “Some more than others. I can’t believe you have eight brothers and sisters.”

“If I never make another sandwich in my life, it will be too soon.”

“I learned a lot about you yesterday from your mother. You’re definitely her favorite.”

“She says that to all the kids. Come on. Let’s see if we can’t clear that head of yours enough to get some sleep with me.”

“You can’t possibly have the energy for, that.” I followed him to the master bedroom, mostly because I forgot where it was. This boat is a sixty foot, five star hotel, on water. It even smells new.

“I always have energy for cookies.”

“You always have energy because you eat every cookie in sight. Did you seriously eat half the batch of cupcakes by yourself the other day?”

“No. I gave two to Stan and one to Renee.” He sat to take his boots off.

I stepped in front of him to help. “So you ate nine.”

“They were small. Barely over a bite a piece.”

“Why don’t you have diabetes??”

“I’m a busy man. I burn a lot more calories than I take in. Restoring that old house helps. Not only that, but until recently I didn’t indulge unless Red was baking at the club. I don’t care for the processed goods.”

“I still think I’m going to have to find a way to make healthier desserts for you, especially if you keep going at this rate.”

“My body is yours, inside an out. I’ll eat whatever you put in front of me, unless it’s tree bark. No tree bark.” He put his hands on my hips and pulled me closer.

I held him gently not wanting to hurt his shoulder or hip. “No tree bark. Got it. Why don’t you lay down sweetheart. You have to be drained.”

“I want to help you relax.” He argued tossing the covers back on the bed. “But I’m afraid I’d fall asleep in your cookies.”

I chuckled and helped him out of his shirt. “Where did you put Bits?”

“Guest room. I found some old newspapers in the recycle bin. He should be okay. He ate his dinner and curled up on his blanket while I was unpacking. I think he’s done too.”

“Good. I’ll go check on him and get my phone. Maybe he’ll stay in there all night this time.”

“I hope so, or he’s going to sleep in the John boat.”

Ten minutes later I was lost in some free crime solving novel that was just complicated enough to keep my mind busy without the stress of my life mixed in.

Trace is sound asleep on my shoulder with his arm and leg draped over my body. I like holding him this way. It feels right.