Chapter 23

Quinn picked at the food on her plate the next night as she tried to listen to the story Max was telling her. It had been a long day, and she’d sought to stay busy to keep her mind off Rock.

She’d cleaned the house from top to bottom, done several loads of laundry, paid the bills for the ranch, and had made a big supper of spaghetti and homemade meatballs. Anything to keep her hands and her mind busy, so she wouldn’t have time to think about her heart.

Her brother had come back late that afternoon with a load of cattle and supplies, and Rock’s brother Mason had been over, helping him unload. Logan had invited him for supper, and although she’d always loved Mason, it seemed that everything he did tonight—his mannerisms, the way he talked, the way he laughed, heck, even the way he held his dang fork—reminded her of Rock.

The only blessing she’d had that day was the fact that she hadn’t heard anything from Monty. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but she’d felt an odd sense of tension throughout the day, as if she were waiting for the other shoe to drop. She knew he wouldn’t quietly disappear. She just didn’t know what he would do instead.

It had been hard watching the disappointment in Max though. Watching as he stood at the front windows, looking down the driveway, hoping Monty’s car would appear. He hadn’t ever called before. He’d just shown up. This was the first day they hadn’t seen him, and she could sense the frustration and hurt in Max.

Her son was usually so easygoing, but today he’d been moody and cranky.

Ham must have sensed something was going on as well, because he spent most of the day outside, in the barn and the pastures. She hadn’t told him what had happened the day before, but he knew her well enough to know that if she started a cleaning spree like the one she was on today, that it was best to make himself scarce.

“So what do you think about that, Mom?” Max asked, his fork held up in the air as if punctuating his question.

She blinked, trying to form a plausible answer out of the few tidbits of the story she’d heard him talking about. “I think that sounds reasonable.”

He gave her a funny look but accepted the answer.

“I think it’s about time you got ready for bed, young man,” her dad said. “Why don’t you take your plate into the kitchen and go get your pajamas on.”

Quinn offered Hamilton a thankful look. “Don’t worry about your plate. I’ll get it this time. You just worry about getting all that spaghetti sauce off your face. And I mean with a washcloth, not with Truman licking it off.”

Max giggled and slid from his chair. He headed down the hall toward the bathroom, the puppy bounding at his heels.

“That was a delicious meal,” Mason said, setting down his napkin and pushing back from the table. “Thanks, Quinn.”

She smiled over at him. He is not Rock. “You know you’re welcome anytime.”

A knock sounded, and she looked up to see Len Larson filling the frame of the screen door.

“Come on in, Lennie,” her brother called.

Len opened the door and took off his hat as he stepped into the living room. He hung his head and shuffled forward. “I’m sorry to disturb your supper. I’m looking for Quinn.”

What the heck was wrong with him? The guy was normally cheerful and easy to laughter. But something was up. His face was pinched, and he twisted his hat nervously in his hands. He looked like either his dog had just died or his underwear was too tight and causing him some degree of discomfort.

“You don’t have to look too far, Lennie. I’m sitting right in front of you,” she said, failing to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. Her patience was already thin, and she had a bad feeling about what was causing Lennie to act so out of the ordinary.

He dipped his head and wouldn’t look her in the eye as he reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. “I’m real sorry about this,” he said as he held the envelope out.

Logan grabbed the envelope and looked at the front of it before passing it to Quinn. “It’s a summons. What the hell is going on, Len?”

The big man shrugged. “Like I said, I’m real sorry. I’m just doing my job.”

Quinn tore open the envelope and scanned the pages inside. She couldn’t believe it. That son of a bitch. “It’s from Monty. He’s filed a petition with the courts for custody of Max. Claiming that he’s in danger. This is a summons to appear in court tomorrow. It’s to meet the judge for a first appearance to determine if Max is safe.”

“Tomorrow?” Logan asked, looking from Quinn to Lennie. “What is going on? What do you know about this, Lennie? Spill it.”

Len swallowed. “Apparently, he ended up in the emergency room yesterday and ain’t too happy about having to get his eye stitched up. He told me he pulled these forms from the internet and filed ’em with the county clerk yesterday. He said the courts have been quiet this week, and you know his brother’s a cop, and I guess he helped him get the case on the docket for tomorrow because of the urgency of the situation.”

“What urgency? And what does him having to go to the emergency room have to do with us?”

Len stared down at the floor, his face going another shade of red, like his drawers had just gotten even tighter. “He claims Rockford beat him up and Quinn watched, and he’s saying it’s Rock’s fault that Max got his arm busted and that the boy isn’t safe with her.”

Logan’s and Mason’s mouths dropped open at the same time, but her father’s lips pulled into a tight line as his jaw set.

“You didn’t hear this from me,” Len continued, “but I think he’s trying to get Social Services involved to see if they’ll come in and take Max. I know he’s mad and all, but I don’t think that’s right. I know you’re a good mom, Quinn.”

“All right, I think we’ve heard enough. You go on now, Len.” Ham’s voice was hard, his words a command, not a request.

Lennie ducked his head and hurried out of the house, scurrying across the room like a scared rat.

A hard grip of fear tightened like a fist around her heart. Social Services?

She shook her head, her eyes widening, and turned to Ham. “They can’t do that, can they, Dad? They can’t take Max from me.”

Hamilton pushed back from the table and stood up, his body tensed as if ready for a fight. “They can’t if he isn’t here. I’ve been thinking about taking the boy camping anyway. This is as good a time as any. If you can get some of his things packed, we can leave in thirty minutes.” He didn’t wait for an answer but marched toward his room, muttering, “I knew we shouldn’t have let that son of a bitch into the house.”

Quinn sat, stunned, trying to digest the information she’d just heard. Why was Monty doing this? What was his end game?

And how the heck did he get a preliminary hearing set up so quickly? She knew his brother was a cop, but didn’t realize he had that much pull.

Apparently, it took only one string to make something happen, as long as it was the right string. And Franklin was a smaller town than Creedence, so maybe their docket had an opening.

She wasn’t sure if having her dad whisk Max off in the night was the smartest decision, but it was the only one she could think of that would keep her son completely safe. She trusted her dad and knew he would die before he let anything happen to Max.

And his behavior this afternoon showed that Monty was a true wild card. She’d seen violence and temper in his eyes and knew he was like a snake trapped in a corner and ready to strike out.

Taking Max out of the county might not be the smartest idea, but she’d be damned if she was going to let that low-life rattlesnake get his fangs into her boy.

“This is ridiculous,” Logan said, eyeing Quinn across the table. “But it sounds like there’s more to the story about what happened yesterday. Why don’t you tell us what’s really going on?”

She picked at the seam of the place mat, her gaze trained on the quilted rose pattern, instead of at her brother, as she told him and Mason what had happened.

“That bastard,” Logan said between clenched teeth.

“I can’t believe Rock didn’t break his legs,” Mason said.

“He might have if I hadn’t pulled him away. Monty had called his brother, and he or someone from the police department was headed toward their house when we got out of there. I’m assuming it was his brother and that he must not have filed an actual police report, because no one showed up here last night. Did they come out to your place?” she asked Mason.

He shook his head. “No. We didn’t see anyone last night. I barely saw Rock. He stayed in his room most of the night. I knew he was in a foul mood, and now this explains it.”

This didn’t explain all of it.

His mood might have something to do with the fact that they’d broken up again. This time for good.

Should she warn Rock? Let him know what was happening?

Maybe he got a summons as well. But his name hadn’t appeared on any of her paperwork. And calling him would just drag them right back into each other’s lives again, and she couldn’t take that right now.

“What can we do to help, Quinn?” Mason asked. “You want us to come over here tonight? Stand guard in case Hill or his brothers try something?”

She felt the blood drain from her face. She hadn’t considered the possibility that they would come to the ranch and try to harm her or her family. The court summons seemed like harm enough. “No. I think Monty is too much of a coward to show up here. He knows both Logan and my dad are armed and wouldn’t hesitate to fire at a trespasser, especially one who was threatening their family. Hell, I’m ready to take a shot at the guy myself.”

“All right. Well, we’re only a few minutes away. Call us if you need us.” Mason stood up. “Thanks again for the meal. I’m going to head home. Be prepared for my mom to call you as soon as she hears about this. Or she might just show up.”

Quinn smiled, comforted by the idea that Vivi would rush to her side.

Logan stacked the remaining plates in a pile. “I’ll get these washed up. Quinn, you better go get Max ready. Dad will be ready to leave soon.”

She nodded, wishing that she could pack a bag and disappear with them.

* * *

Rock stomped into the house and threw his gloves on the counter. He’d spent the last hour in the barn, hauling hay and stacking bales. He’d thought the physical work would give him an outlet for his stress, and his body was exhausted, but his mind still reeled with thoughts of Quinn.

And no amount of busywork would heal the wounds in his heart.

The front door slammed, and Mason strode in, a concerned look on his face.

Rock could tell just by the way he walked that something was going on. “What’s wrong?”

“I was just over at the Rivers’s place, and apparently, that scumbag Hill has filed some kind of petition with the courts to try to get custody of Max.”

“What? That’s insane. On what grounds?”

“He claims that you sent him to the emergency room yesterday.”

“Are you kidding me? I barely touched the guy. I’ve taken worse hits and played a full period on the ice.”

“Quinn told us what happened, and from the sounds of it, the guy is lucky you didn’t beat him into a bloody pulp.”

“It wasn’t for lack of desire. I wanted to and would have done much worse if Quinn hadn’t pulled me out of there. But that was between me and Hill. How can he use that against Quinn?”

Mason shrugged. “He’s saying something about her putting Max in dangerous situations and arguing that it’s your fault the kid’s arm got broken at the ice rink.”

A heavy weight settled in his chest. It had been his fault. And now look what had happened. He’d caused Quinn and her boy even more pain and harm.

He grabbed his keys from the counter. “I’ve got to go over there. I need to tell her I’m sorry.” But she didn’t want to see him. She’d made that perfectly clear the day before.

Rage and frustration boiled in his blood, and he hurled his keys across the kitchen. They hit a glass mixing bowl and knocked it to the floor, shattering it into several pieces.

“FUCK!” Rock yelled, then scrubbed his hands across his face. “I can’t go over there. She doesn’t want to see me anymore. She doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

He’d never felt so helpless.

He had power and money and was strong as an ox, yet when the woman he loved needed him, there wasn’t a damn thing he could do.

Except… An idea struck him, and he reached for his phone. “She may not let me help her, but I know who can.”

Mason had grabbed the broom and was sweeping the broken shards of glass into a dustpan. “Yeah, but who’s gonna help you when Mom finds out you broke her favorite mixing bowl?”

Rock ignored him as he scrolled through his contacts. Finding the one he wanted, he tapped the screen and held the phone to his ear.

* * *

The next afternoon, Quinn stood nervously outside the courtroom doors. She peered down the hall, watching for her lawyer to appear. She’d considered saving the expense and representing herself. Her bank account couldn’t take the hit, and besides, she had the law on her side on this one. It was up to Monty to prove that she’d done something wrong.

But it was Max. And she couldn’t take a chance that anything would happen to him. He was worth every cent she had to protect him.

She’d called Bob Dempsey the night before and asked him to meet her at the courthouse today. He was an old friend of her father’s, and both the Rivers’s and the James’s ranches used him as their legal counsel when they were in need of such a thing.

And she was in serious need.

Her dad had taken Max the night before, and she’d spent a restless night worrying about today. Thankfully, she still had Logan.

He’d said he had a couple more things to do at the ranch, then he’d meet her at the courthouse, and she peered anxiously down the hall, watching for both her brother and the elderly cowboy who would serve as her lawyer.

Bile rose in her throat as Monty stepped through the doors instead and swaggered toward her. The left side of his face was swollen, and a purple bruise circled his eye. Three dark stitches under a transparent butterfly bandage held a small cut together on his cheekbone.

The corner of his lip was swollen, yet he still managed to offer her an arrogant grin. “Hey, Quinn.” He looked around her shoulder. “Where’s Rockford?”

Rock? Why was he worried about where Rock was? If anything, the guy should be nervous that if Rock were here, he’d blacken his other eye.

She was considering doing it herself. “He’s not here.”

He leaned down, close enough that she could smell the scent of coffee and cigarettes on his breath. “I hope he’s at the bank, getting my money.”

Money? What money?

He tilted his head. “Didn’t he tell you about my little offer to him the other day? I thought you two were closer than that.”

She pushed back her shoulders, not wanting him to see that he was getting to her, and putting on a braver front than she felt. “Yeah, he did. Of course he did,” she bluffed. “But he’s not paying you any money.”

“He better reconsider that idea. You tell him this is just the beginning. I don’t care if he pays it or your dad coughs it up again, but either they get me my money, or this is just the first of many battles you and I will fight—in court, and otherwise.”

Fear spiraled down her back like a trickle of ice water on her spine, and she couldn’t speak.

Monty’s words spun inside her already dizzy head. Or your dad coughs it up again.

Again?

Had her dad paid Monty off before? Is that why he’d left town? Is that why he’d never contacted Max?

Monty’s eyes gleamed, like he knew he’d hit a nerve with his threat, and he twisted the knife one more turn. “The internet is full of petitions and forms, and it only costs me fifteen bucks to file them with the county. I can tie you up in court proceedings for years, and that’s gonna cost you more than if you just pay up now. Because, honey, I’ve got nothing to lose. And you’ve got everything to lose.”

“Quinn Rivers?” A tall man wearing an expensive suit and carrying a leather briefcase walked up behind Monty.

“See ya inside,” Monty said, giving her a lurid wink before turning toward the courtroom doors. “Remember what I said.”

Quinn turned to the man, feeling like she’d just had the wind knocked out of her. “Yes, I’m Quinn Rivers.”

The man held out his hand. A gold designer watch shined on his wrist. “I’m Michael Brennan, from Hughes, Brennan, and Baker Law. I’ll be representing you today.”

She shook her head. “But I already have a lawyer.”

“I understand. And I’ve already spoken with Mr. Dempsey, and we agreed that I’ll be taking over your case.”

She leaned her head into her hand, rubbing her fingers into her aching forehead. “I don’t understand. And no offense, but I can’t afford another lawyer.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to worry about that. Rock sent me. I’m with the firm that represents his team. We take care of the players and their families.” He smiled encouragingly at her. “And I owe Rock a favor. So honestly, there’s no charge. I’m happy to help you.”

Logan hurried up to Quinn and put an arm around her shoulders. “You okay? Who’s this?” He eyed the other man suspiciously.

“Michael Brennan. Apparently, he’s my lawyer. Rock sent him.”

Logan’s eyes widened, and a grin spread across his face. “Nice. Good to meet you. I’m Logan Rivers, Quinn’s brother.”

Michael smiled and shook his hand, then pulled open the door and held it for her. “Call me Mike. And we should go in. We don’t want to be late.”

Her heart pounded as she walked down the aisle and toward the table at the front of the courtroom. Logan squeezed her shoulders, then slipped into the seats behind her as Michael pulled out her chair and she sank into it.

Feeling stunned and still winded, she couldn’t quite grasp the happenings of the last few minutes. She was still reeling from Monty’s declaration that her dad had paid him off, and now Rock had arranged for a top-notch lawyer to represent her.

The bailiff stood and called out to the courtroom, “All rise for the Honorable Judge William Moray.”

They all stood as Judge Moray entered from a side door and approached the bench. He was a tall man, probably in his early sixties, with a full head of silver-white hair. His eyes were sharp and narrowed as he surveyed the courtroom, then sat down behind the bench.

His face remained passive, but Quinn wondered what he was thinking about Monty’s obvious injuries. She almost wished she’d gone sleeveless—she had a few bruises of her own to show.

The judge silently studied her and her lawyer, then turned his gaze to Monty. “Do you have legal representation that you’re waiting on, Mr. Hill?”

“Huh?” Monty said.

“A lawyer. Do you have a lawyer?”

“No. I don’t need one. I’ve got the law on my side.”

She winced, thankful that she had gone ahead with securing an attorney. Even though she’d been thinking the same thing earlier, she didn’t realize how idiotic it sounded until it came out of Monty’s mouth.

The judge raised an eyebrow at Monty but didn’t say anything more. He turned his attention to Quinn’s side of the room.

Michael gave a respectful nod to the judge. “Michael Brennan, Your Honor, attorney for Ms. Rivers.”

The judge nodded back, then cleared his throat. “Let’s get started then.”