Talk
I WAS IN THE KITCHEN, shaking.
Gray was standing in the doorway with Lash.
Macy was in the kitchen with me and she was crowding me.
“Tell me why you brought that motherfucker here?” Gray growled, keeping his distance from Lash and visibly keeping his body in check. They were close, the door not affording them much room, and Gray was pissed beyond any kind of pissed I’d seen Gray be.
And I’d seen Gray be really, freaking pissed.
The Brothers Cody, Brutus and Lenny, who had wisely taken one look at Casey, undoubtedly remembered him and decided to stay, were all in the living room with Casey.
Casey!
Oh God.
“Because I know what he has to say, the Mustang police should know and hear it from him, and last, she deserves this, Cody, and you do too,” Lash replied. He was alert but calm and holding Gray’s eyes.
“Maybe but you could have called,” Gray returned and this was true. So, so true. “You did, you’d know the barn burned down last night and we got seven horses dead. Ivey was in that barn with me savin’ the thirteen we got left.”
Lash’s face got hard and his eyes sliced to me.
“Look at me, Caldiwell,” Gray rumbled and Lash’s eyes cut back to Gray. “Why didn’t you call?”
“Because I thought if I did, you’d protect Ivey by not giving her what Casey has to give.”
Gray’s body straightened and seemed to expand, such was his increased anger but Lash shook his head.
“Calm, my man, that guy in there has not pulled one over on me. I’m not here to orchestrate a family reunion. What he’s got to give is no good. It’s just truth. Ugly truth. And I read from you right now and read it the same seein’ you with her before that you’d protect her from that shit and that is not your call. It’s not mine. It’s Ivey’s. I’m giving her that call.”
“You don’t know me enough to know I wouldn’t give her the same,” Gray clipped out.
“You’re right but I also wasn’t going to take any chances,” Lash fired back, his eyes slid to me then back to Gray. “Timing sucks but better to get this shit over with and do with that guy whatever you decide you want done with him. Deal with him or cut him loose. One way or another, I want shot of him. Filth stinks and I’m really not fond of his smell.”
Lash, a man I loved, a man who looked out for me, a man who took care of me, a man who out-and-out spoiled me was talking about my brother that way.
Pure Casey.
Obviously he hadn’t changed.
“Ivey, you okay?” Macy asked softly, still crowding me.
No, I wasn’t.
I didn’t answer her.
I spoke to Lash.
“I know why,” I said softly, and both Gray and Lash’s eyes came to me. When I got Lash’s attention, I continued, “If you gave Gray the info and he chose not to tell me, you thought, if Casey made his way back to me whenever and for whatever reason . . . because being Casey, even though it’s been years, he’d eventually need me . . . you thought I’d buckle.”
Lash gave it to me straight with his prompt answer of, “Yes.”
I studied him knowing he was right.
I loved my brother.
It was a failing.
I looked to Gray, to Macy, then to my feet as they moved me through the kitchen and I muttered, “Let’s get this done.”
Gray and Lash separated so I could squeeze through them. I led, and with Macy, they followed.
Casey’s eyes came to me the minute I hit the living room. I took two steps in and stopped, feeling Lash and Gray position themselves behind me.
Brutus was standing behind and beside the armchair in which Casey was lounging negligently, even belligerently. The Brothers Cody and Lenny were positioned around the room, all standing. Macy went to Olly.
Casey didn’t tear his gaze from me.
“Looks like you landed on your feet, sis,” he remarked, and I felt the heavy atmosphere in the room get even heavier.
I took in my brother.
He’d lost weight. He had a scar I knew came from a deep cut on his cheek, another one from a shallow cut curving up from the collar of his tee by his collarbone. His hair was a mess and, even though he was only thirty-four, it had already started to go gray. There were lines around his eyes and mouth that didn’t come from work in the sun or laughter but hard living and a lifetime of worry. His tee, jeans and boots weren’t dirty or tatty but they weren’t good quality and he’d had them awhile.
He looked ten years older than he was. He looked angry. And he looked beaten, but even so, he was trying to hide it behind hostility.
When I made no response, his gaze moved over my shoulder to Gray then back to me.
“See you and your cowboy again aren’t gonna offer me hospitality.” His brows went up. “No cool, refreshing glass of homemade lemonade on the farm? Not an offer of a nice, cold bottle of brew?”
Jeez.
Casey.
Finally, I spoke. “Lash says you have something to say to me.”
“Got a lotta things be happy to say to you,” Casey replied, and I heard Gray draw in breath.
“Casey, be smart, just tell me what happened, what you did seven years ago so you can be on your way to continue to do whatever you’ve been doing,” I urged softly, hating this and wanting it done.
“Seven years ago, my sister upped, stole a wad of my cash, my car and took off on me,” Casey returned.
“Cash you were given to take me away from Gray, from Mustang,” I reminded him. It was a guess but I knew it was the right one when Casey’s eyes flashed. He didn’t confirm this information, however.
Instead, he noted, “Car was mine, sis. You left me high and dry with no wheels.”
It was my turn to remind my brother of something. “If I remember, I won the pinks to that car in a game of pool.”
Casey’s face got hard and he inched up a bit in his chair. “I primed that mark.”
“We both know,” I said quietly, “that I didn’t need you to prime anything.”
“Jesus, fuck, yeah,” he spit, eyes narrowing. “You didn’t need me, right? Fuck, Ivey, you got a selective memory.”
Pain ripped through me.
He was very right at the same time being pitifully wrong.
At this point, Gray entered the conversation. “This is not why you’re here. We’re not goin’ over the history of Casey and Ivey Bailey. You’re gonna talk about what you did seven years ago.”
Casey’s eyebrows shot up and he asked sarcastically, “I am?”
“You are,” Gray confirmed.
“I wanna talk about somethin’ else, I can’t. If I can’t talk about what I wanna talk about, why would I talk about what you wanna talk about?” Casey asked.
“You owe it to your sister and you owe it to me,” Gray replied.
Casey inched up even more, his body tensing, his face twisting, and he hissed, “I don’t owe you or that bitch shit.”
It happened so quickly it was like I didn’t see it. Gray was across the room, Casey out of his chair, and Gray tore him out of it with such force, the chair, which was not light, tipped to its back and skidded a couple of feet. The end result was Casey—his back to the wall, and Gray—his body pressing into Casey, his hand wrapped around Casey’s throat, squeezing.
Casey kicked out his feet but Gray positioned his body to Casey’s side so he had no target at the same time the fingers on both Casey’s hands curled around Gray’s forearm to pull it away. Gray had such a fierce hold on him, he had no hope.
“Talk!” Gray barked in his face.
“Let me go!” Casey wheezed, still kicking, still pulling at Gray’s hand and all the men in the room closed in on the two of them.
Gray either was so focused he didn’t feel them or he didn’t care. Instead, using Casey’s neck, he pulled him away from the wall and slammed him into it so his had cracked against the drywall, sounding with a sickening thud.
Then he did it again.
Then he roared, “Talk!”
Clearly, he’d also put more pressure on Casey’s throat because now Casey was gurgling in an attempt to get air in. He’d stopped kicking out with his feet because all his effort needed to be at Gray’s arm, which still didn’t budge.
When Casey formed no words, Gray again pulled Casey away from the wall and his head lurched forward like a ragdoll and smashed back against the wall when Gray slammed him there.
“Talk!” he again thundered.
I stood still and frozen and Frank got close to Gray.
He put his hand on Gray’s shoulder and said quietly, “Son, man can’t talk with you squeezin’ the life outta him.”
I deep breathed as I watched Gray’s upper body moving in a way that I knew he was doing the same. He took a moment to consider his uncle’s words before he yanked Casey away from the wall and threw him across the room. Casey flew over the turned chair, ass over head rolling, and landed on his stomach on a skid that took him dangerously close to a table with thin, curved legs and an old-fashioned, glass-based lamp I particularly liked.
Once he stopped, Gray stalked to him and stood over him, repeating, “Now, talk.”
Casey rolled to his side, clutching his throat with one hand, coming up to the other forearm, his eyes going to Gray. The belligerence was still there but significantly muted because now there was not a small amount of fear.
Yes, my brother Casey had not changed. Gray had shown him he could best him. It was a long time ago but everything about Gray showed he had matured and remained fit and healthy and everything about Casey showed the exact opposite, and still, Casey had underestimated Gray.
When he sucked in enough breath to function, he reminded Gray, “You got a cop here.”
“I know,” Gray returned immediately. “A breakdown of who’s in this room is not what I want you to talk about. Now, talk.”
This explained why Casey thought he had the upper hand and could be an asshole. He thought the presence of Lenny would be his shield.
Casey looked to Lenny as did I, and seeing him leaning a shoulder nonchalantly against the wall opposite the drama, even someone as stupid as Casey couldn’t miss that Captain Lenny was not here in an official capacity and had no intentions of stepping up for Casey.
When my eyes went back to my brother I saw he was making movements like he was going to get up but Gray stepped closer to him, leaned over and whispered, “Stay down. You say what you gotta say from right there.”
“Man, I gotta get up,” Casey clipped.
“No, man, you gotta learn when you’re beat and stay down. You’re beat. Stay down and . . .” he bent further at the waist, “talk.”
Casey glared at Gray then he put his hand at his throat to the floor, looked beyond Gray to me and finally got smart.
“That guy, name’s Sharp, the one you beat at pool, he sent a tracker out to find me.”
Gray straightened and took half a step back. Everyone else in the room also partially retreated.
I kept my eyes locked to my brother.
He kept talking.
“Tracker found me, brought me to him. He offered me ten K to get you outta this shithole and keep you out. No one knows, no one sees us leave. When I got you gone, no phone calls, no comin’ back, nothin’. I made it so you ceased to exist for Cody for good and forever.”
I guessed it, deep down I knew it, but it still hurt like hell to know it.
Casey continued, “Five K up front, five more after I got you gone. They came up with the story I was gonna feed you and to convince you, him and his three friends took free shots at me.”
My head started shaking at how stupid and greedy and just plain stupid my brother was but I didn’t tear my eyes away from Casey.
“You take the note?” Gray asked and Casey looked up at him.
“No,” he answered, showing he knew exactly what Gray was referring to. “But when I called to confirm we were gone, told him she wrote it. He told me it was seen to.”
“The rest of her stuff, he tell you about that?” Gray kept questioning and Casey shook his head.
“He didn’t tell me shit but I reckon he had someone go in and nab the note, they took the rest of her shit. Objective, she vanished. I did my part, he did his.”
Everyone was silent.
“Ten thousand dollars,” I whispered into the silence and Casey looked back to me.
That was when it leaked through. The real Casey. The one that faded through the years as he let life beat him down without fighting back.
The Casey who loved me.
I saw it through the remorse that shone from his eyes.
And I didn’t care.
“Ivey—” he started, but I kept talking.
“Even if Gray wasn’t here, in this town with these people, the way it is, I was happy here,” I told him. “I’d found a home.”
“Sis—” he tried to break in, but I didn’t let him.
“But Gray was here and so not only did I find a home, I found a family.”
Casey closed his eyes.
I kept speaking.
“All I ever wanted, Casey,” I reminded him and he opened his eyes. “I told you that, I don’t know how many times. All I ever wanted and you, my own brother, all it took was ten thousand dollars and you took that away from me.”
He pushed up to sitting but stayed down, eyes never leaving me, and he opened his mouth to speak but I got there before him.
“Seven years. You stole seven years from me.”
“I—” he tried again, but I shook my head.
“There is absolutely nothing,” I leaned in on the last word, feeling my blood racing through my veins, the rush of it in my brain, “you could say that would explain or make me understand why you would do that to me. Not one thing.”
Casey swallowed.
“I loved him,” I whispered, the surge of anger disintegrating, instant sorrow taking its place. “I loved him with everything I had, everything I was. He made me happy for the first time in . . . my . . . life. And you took him away from me.”
Casey didn’t speak.
I did.
“You’re dead to me.”
His face paled, pain slashed through his features and I didn’t get that. I didn’t get how he could sit there and think for one minute that my reaction would be anything but what it was.
Then again, for a long time I didn’t get a lot about Casey.
“Dead to me,” I whispered.
With that I turned on my flip-flop, walked out of the living room, up the stairs and to Gray and my room.
I was standing at the window looking at the burned remains of our barn when Gray’s arms wrapped around me, one at my ribs, one at my chest and his lips came to my ear.
“Lash and Freddie need to know what you want done with him,” he said softly.
“I don’t care.”
He gave me a quick squeeze and kept speaking softly in my ear.
“I get you feel that way now, dollface, but you gotta power through that just for a second ’cause those two men are itchin’ to teach your brother a lesson. You open that opportunity to them—”
“I don’t care.”
“Ivey—”
I turned in his arms, put my hands to his waist, looked into his deep blue eyes with their russet lashes, eyes that were the last thing I should have seen every night for seven years and eyes I should have woken up to every morning, and I repeated slowly and firmly, “I . . . don’t . . . care.”
His beautiful eyes held mine before they moved over my face then his hand came up, fingers gliding along my cheek and back. He slid them into my hair, cupped my head and dropped his to touch his mouth to mine.
When he lifted his head, he whispered, “Okay, honey.”
“Okay.”
He bent his neck to touch his forehead to mine for a second before he gave me another squeeze and let me go.
I watched his ass in his jeans until he turned down the hall.
Then I turned back to the window and looked at the burned out barn.
Twenty-two years of hell. Seven years of happy limbo.
Now I was home.
I was home.
I focused on that, drew in a steadying breath and waited until I heard the car start. Then I heard another one. I also heard them going down the lane.
Only then did I walk out of our bedroom, but I turned away from the stairs and walked the few feet to the end of the hall where there was a window seat and a big, sashed window that looked out to the side of the house.
The cruiser gone. The Lincoln gone. The Cody cars remained.
And there it was. I had a house full of family, a kitchen table full of generosity, so I had to get my ass downstairs and provide hospitality.
So that was just what I did.