Close Range Christmas Page 7

  Growing up it had been a laundry room, but after Dev’s accident he hadn’t been able to use the stairs for quite some time so his brothers had renovated the room into a bedroom.

  She imagined he could move upstairs now, but he hadn’t.

  He pointed at his bed—which was made. An odd detail to notice, but she never made her bed. Then again Duke hadn’t been a stickler for household cleanliness like Grandma Pauline was.

  “Knock yourself out.”

  “You’re going to let me sleep in your bed?”

  “Yeah. Why not?”

  An excellent question. It wasn’t a big deal or anything all that amazing—but the idea of crawling into his bed had her thinking about an intimacy she didn’t have with him.

  You’ve slept together.

  But not in one of their beds. Not even in one of their houses. It had been in a hotel room and she barely remembered it.

  He won’t be in bed with you now. Get a grip.

  Right. “Well, what are you going to do?”

  He pulled a drawer open and grabbed a pair of thick socks. “Told Tuck I’d let him borrow a pair since he’s a moron who stepped in a giant puddle. Just getting these to take back out to him. Lots of chores to do.”

  So he was doing chores with Tuck. Which was good. No one was going off on their own.

  And it was weird standing in his room with him. “Well, thanks for the bed.”

  He shrugged. “No problem. Door doesn’t lock but I’ll let everyone know so they don’t bother you.”

  “Oh, don’t do that. I don’t want them thinking I need a nap.”

  “But you do need a nap.”

  “I don’t need one. I want one because nobody will let me do anything. But if they’re worried I’m too tired or whatever it starts the move-me-to-town discussion all over again.”

  “It isn’t such a terrible idea.”

  She frowned up at him. “See?”

  “It’s a good thirty miles to the hospital from here. If the roads are bad when you’re in labor...”

  “I’ve discussed that with my doctor, Dev. She wasn’t concerned. First-time labor is rarely fast, and so far my contractions are sporadic at worst.”

  “Well, we’ll see what she says next week, won’t we?” His expression changed as she massaged her side. She wasn’t feeling any contractions, just a general ache of her stomach being stretched to capacity.

  His expression now was like the expression he’d gotten on his face when he’d started saying Anth wouldn’t beat them. A determination and fire she couldn’t remember seeing in him since he’d been a teenager. It made her heart do wild windmills in her chest.

  “I could come with,” he said after a long while.

  “To my doctor’s appointment?”

  “Yeah.”

  The cartwheeling died because it was no kind offer. It wasn’t about wanting to be a part of it. “You just want to make sure I don’t lie about what the doctor says.”

  He held her gaze, so serious and...direct. “No.”

  “Then why?” Sarah demanded. She wasn’t falling for it. She knew him well enough to know this was all about having his way. Not about...what she wanted it to be about.

  “Listen. If we settle things with Anth—”

  “When we beat him, you mean.”

  “Sure, whatever. I’m just saying, if there’s no danger and everything is settled—”

  “Everything will be settled. No ifs about it.”

  Dev scrubbed his hands over his face. “Why do you have to be so infuriating?”

  “It’s only infuriating because I’m right. Maybe you should just defer to me more often.”

  He snorted. “Like you’d want that. You live for an argument.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  “I would.”

  “Seems to me that you’re the one arg—”

  “Would you shut up and let me say my piece before I change my mind?”

  Sarah was surprised into silence if only because for as often as Dev got annoyed with her, argued and bickered with her, he rarely ever snapped in this way. A loss of temper. As if he was actually letting himself care.

  “All right,” she said, some odd mixture of anxiety and hope twining around her heart like a vise.

  “You weren’t totally off base about the guilt complex things and the less-than-my-brothers thing. I know I’m not as good as my brothers. I figure that’s just fact, and you can close your big mouth and not argue with me for once so I can finish what I’m trying to say.”

  She snapped her mouth shut, though it took some willpower not to defend him to himself. Still, he was addressing a thing she’d said—a real, emotional, important thing. And that was some kind of amazing progress.

  “But I’m not my father. I don’t want to hurt anyone, and... Grandma was right. I’ve been thinking about my role in this whole thing selfishly. Who I am and what I am, but what Cecilia said about...protecting the children. The kid is part of me, even if I don’t take any role as father. Maybe I’m not as noble or righteous as my brothers, but I... I had a bad father. The worst kind. I know what that’s like, and I know how terrible the world can be, and no child deserves that.”

  “Our son would never...” She stopped herself from finishing the sentence when he glared at her.

  He was trying to say...something. She might not understand where he was going, but it was important. He was actually showing her some of his feelings and emotions and she wanted to encourage that. Always.

  “As long as Anth is dealt with, I want...” He blew out a long, tortuous breath. “I want to be part of it. Not passively like I was planning. But a father. A real father. The kind who protects his kid and gives him or her the best life he can.”

  Sarah couldn’t remember a time she’d ever been fully speechless, but she couldn’t think of a word to say. Not one word. All she could do was stand there, tears welling in her eyes and emotion clogging her throat.

  His scowl deepened. “You said I could. You said you wanted me to.”

  Sarah nodded, trying to control her emotions that wanted to overflow. “I mean it,” she managed to croak.

  He shoved his hands into his pockets and scowled. “Well, good then. Anth has to be taken care of first, but... Once he is... Well. Yeah.”

  Sarah forced herself to take a deep breath. He wanted to be a father to their baby. It was what she’d hoped for, what she’d been certain eventually she’d be able to convince him to want as well. But this wasn’t... As much as she’d believed he would, she hadn’t ever considered how he’d tell her, or when, or what she’d want to say in response.

  She should thank him. Or hug him. Or say it was good and take her nap, but Sarah had never been any good at not trying for the mile when an inch was given. “And what about us?”

  Dev blinked then, looking a bit like he’d been stricken. “What do you mean?”

  She knew full well he understood what she meant, but if he needed to hear it, so be it. “If you’re going to be a dad, what does that make us?”

  He took a step away from her, hands so deep in his pockets it was a wonder they didn’t break through the fabric. “W-what we’ve always been. Friends.”

  “I don’t think—”

  Jamison appeared in the doorway, which had the words drying up in her mouth. Jamison was supposed to be in Bonesteel. Not standing in Dev’s bedroom doorway, grave and imposing.

  “Dev. Sarah. Sorry to interrupt, but we need you in the kitchen.”

  * * *

  DEV WAS GLAD for the interruption, or so he thought until he walked into the kitchen and all his brothers were there and worse, so much worse, Liza—tear-stained and not doing anything to cover that up.

  Liza who never cried. Who was so strong and tough and thumbed her nose at danger and threats. />
  “What is it?” Sarah asked.

  Jamison sighed and gestured to the table. “This was nailed to my door this morning. At home.”

  Dev leaned forward with Sarah. A piece of paper lay on the table. It wasn’t like the handwritten It’s Not Over note. This had been typed and had a lot more text.

  “It looks like a court document,” Dev muttered.

  “Not exactly.”

  Dev skimmed the writing on the paper, then went back to the beginning and read it word for word, his body getting colder and heart getting heavier.

  Jamison Wyatt

  Crimes:

  The subject has been the perpetrator of a wide variety of crimes since childhood. A history of lying, stealing, and the repeated, malicious torture and killing of his own kin.

  Sentencing:

  For these acts of violence, treason and destruction, I do hereby sentence Jamison Wyatt to death. This will be meted out at the judge’s discretion through the method J. Wyatt deemed acceptable through his own actions against his own brethren, for personal gain.

  —AW

  “I don’t understand,” Sarah whispered. “I don’t understand.”

  “Kin and brethren. He means the Sons.” Dev shook his head because he didn’t understand either. “We didn’t know he existed. How could Anth have anything to do with the Sons?”

  “He was there, though, when Ace tried to kill you,” Brady pointed out. “So at some point after we were out of the fold, he was brought in.”

  “I was in the fold,” Liza said, her voice scratchy. “There were only a few years between when Jamison and I escaped and I went back to try and save my sister. He was never mentioned. I never once heard about some secret son of Ace’s. I know they didn’t trust me or anything, but I’m pretty sure I would have known about that.”

  “I take it no one else got one of these,” Jamison said flatly.

  Dev exchanged looks with his brothers. They all were just as bewildered as he was.

  “It says one of six,” Sarah said, her voice still little more than a whisper.

  “What?” Jamison demanded.

  Sarah leaned forward and pointed at the right-hand corner of the paper. In smaller text, there was a 1/6.

  “I just figured it was the number of pages printed out,” Liza said, frowning down at the paper.

  “Six is no coincidence. He’s not singling you out,” Dev muttered. “He’s taking us one by one.”

  Liza buried her face in her hands. “This is supposed to be over.”

  She was right. It was supposed to be over. For all of them. He should have told this secret last year—if he had, maybe it would be over.

  But he couldn’t rewind and fix things then—so he had to fix them now. He looked back at the paper. “Look. He’s given us this document. It’s some kind of warning. He could have just taken us all out, one by one, last year. He’s had all this time. Instead he’s doing some elaborate Ace-like plan. Which means we’ve got the time to shore up our protections. Maybe there are even clues in this thing. Maybe it gives us the opportunity to work through it before he can do anything.”

  “And if we can’t?” Liza demanded. She glared up at Dev, but tears were tracking down her cheeks.

  “Liza...” Jamison said, sounding wounded.

  “We stick together,” Brady said firmly. “We protect each other. It got us through last year. It’ll get us through this.”

  “If there are clues here, and we can figure them out, we can be ready for him. Not just keep Jamison safe, but take Anth down. He’s giving us the opportunity to win. He’s giving us a fair fight.”

  “None of this is fair,” Liza said, pushing away from the table. “I need some air,” she muttered, then slammed out of the kitchen.

  Jamison closed his eyes, then rubbed his hands over his face. Sarah gave him a pat on the shoulder.

  “I’ll go sit with her.”

  He nodded grimly. Once both women were gone, Jamison slowly turned back to them. For a few seconds, all six of them stood in the kitchen in utter silence.

  Dev had promised himself he’d fight for his child, but now his brother had been specifically singled out. He didn’t need any realizations to know what to do now.

  “It’s one of six. Which means we have six chances—six chances not just to fight Anth, but to take him down. He’s taking us one by one. And warning us. There’s something to this...performance. Some code or something—like Ace had.”

  “Good. Another Ace to fight,” Brady said disgustedly.

  “Who knows if he’s the only one?” Tucker added.

  “He’s the only one,” Dev replied. “There’s no way Ace could have kept multiple children a secret. He certainly wouldn’t have time to warp all of them.”

  “You hope,” Brady said.

  “This is it. I’m sure of it. Our last ghost to fight.”

  “How can you be sure of it?” Jamison asked, his gaze still on the door Liza had gone out of.

  “Nothing else adds up,” Dev said. “Maybe Ace was crazy. Maybe the Sons are evil. But the numbers always add up. Anth is our last hurdle. The North Star group has mostly disbanded the Sons. All those federal raids left them with next to no resources, loyalty or power. If there was anyone else to come after us, Anth would have recruited them. We would have heard Sons rumblings. But no, they’ve been thrown in jail or they ran. All that’s left is Anth, and us. So we just have to figure out what he’s trying to tell us and beat him at his own game.”

  “If we can stay alive,” Jamison muttered.

  “The Sons haven’t beaten us yet, Jamison. I don’t intend for that to change, do you?” Dev demanded.

  Gage chuckled. “He sounded just like you, J.” Gage gave a mock shiver. “Downright creepy.”

  Jamison frowned at Gage, but his expression had changed. The hurt and worry over Liza were still there, but that battle light was back. He looked down at the paper. “What kind of clues could there be?”

  “Let’s read it again—line by line—and go from there.” Dev took an empty seat and waited for Jamison to take the other one. He looked at each of his brothers, sitting around Grandma Pauline’s table. They’d been here before—too many times to count.

  This would be the last time. Dev was determined. “We’ll beat him. We have to.” There were too many lives at stake not to.

  Chapter Eight

  Sarah wasn’t sure she’d ever seen Liza so visibly distraught, and Liza had not had an easy life. She’d been in danger for most of it. So it was beyond concerning she’d been so visibly upset—even if she had every right to be.

  She was sitting on the back step. Cash sitting in front of her, wagging his tail as if waiting for a game of fetch. It was only then Sarah realized there was a mangy ball at Liza’s feet.

  Sarah moved to sit next to Liza on the back porch step, but it was a narrow step and would have been a tight fit even if she didn’t have a giant belly impeding her way.

  “For heaven’s sake, don’t sit here,” Liza said, wiping her face with her sleeve. She popped to her feet. “You don’t need to cheer me up.”

  “I’m not here to cheer you up. I’m just here to hold your hand. Also to throw that poor dog a ball since you won’t.”

  Liza rolled her eyes, but she bent down and picked up the ball. She heaved it with impressive power, and Cash took off like a bullet.

  She turned to face Sarah, eyes puffy and face blotchy.

  Sarah’s heart twisted. She’d never seen Liza like this. “This isn’t like you, Liza. You’re usually more angry than...”

  “A whiny, crying mess?”

  “Well, I wasn’t going to use those words.”

  Liza smirked, but it died quickly. She looked out over the horizon. It was cold, but there wasn’t much of a wind today, so it was bearable in her heavy sweater
s. Especially standing here in the midday sun.

  Cash brought back the ball and Liza hurled it again.

  “We really thought it was over, you know? That’s the part I just can’t... Our fathers are dead. The Sons are rubble. I shouldn’t still have to be afraid.”

  “Does the fear ever really go away? Jamison is a sheriff’s deputy. We both know that an illness can come in and take someone away. I think fear is just a part of loving.”

  Liza seemed to mull that over, but then she shook her head. “I don’t think normal people have to fear the way we do.”

  “Maybe not, but I can’t... We survived last year. Threat after threat and we worked together and survived and kept everyone safe. We weren’t unscathed, but we’re all together. I can’t believe we won’t be able to do that again.”

  Liza sighed heavily. “It’s not that I don’t think we can survive. It’s not even the fear exactly. I...” She kicked at the short railing. “We’d started the whole process to adopt.”

  “Oh, Liza.”

  “But we can hardly bring kids home with death threats nailed to the door.” She shook her head, staring hard at the horizon. Cash hadn’t reappeared with the ball. He’d bark occasionally, so Sarah assumed he was off chasing a squirrel or maybe Duke or Rachel coming in from the fields.

  “We’d be really good parents to more than just Gigi. It isn’t fair we can’t give some kids what Duke and Eva gave us.” Sarah was the only child Duke and Eva had adopted, but they’d fostered Sarah’s four other sisters, and then had Rachel biologically. And Liza was right, they’d always given the girls—biological, adopted or fostered, a loving home. Even after Eva had died.

  Sarah placed her hands on her own belly. So much of why she wanted to be a mother was because of Duke and Eva. She’d wanted to be like them—give like them, love like them.

  Briefly she thought of Dev saying he actually wanted to be a father, and how much that gave Sarah the hope she could really be like Duke and Eva—a partnership raising kids together.