Chapter

41

Following Roger’s burial in the Collier County cemetery, the funeral precession drove the fifty miles back to Gett, stopping occasionally for an alligator crossing the roadway. Brodie’s Jeep took the lead, Mary in the front seat.

The Gett Diner had graciously offered to feed the mourners. So less than an hour later, a hundred or so cars pulled into the parking lot of the diner as well as the street and intermittently the front yard of nearby houses.

I parked a half-mile up Main Street, needing the fresh air to rid myself of the feeling of loss and sadness today’s service had emphasized deep inside me. I doubted I’d ever find complete peace for the parents I’d lost. My memories of them, sparse as they might be, would live on until I took my final breath.

Stop being so melodramatic, I ordered myself.

The sun was shining. Birds circled overhead. Life, even as fragile as it seemed, was to be lived.

I opened the door to the diner, surprised the fire marshal hadn’t shut the place down. People were packed in, some of them with feet barely touching the floor as they moved through the buffet line. The smell of overcooked meat and still-frozen veggies lingered in the air, ruining what little appetite I’d had.

I spotted the fire marshal, a plate full of food in his hands, waiting in line for some of Cindy Mae’s Drunken Apple Pie.

That explained that.

I decided to offer Mary a quick condolence and then head back home to spend the afternoon with Jack. For who knew how many days of freedom he had left? Carefully I picked my way through the crowd. I spotted Cindy Mae, still as pregnant as ever, taking drink orders.

She gave me a wave, shaking her head. “Haven’t seen this many Gettians in their Sunday best since old man Merritt died. Course then, everybody thought he had money. Turns out, he had a whole ’nother family in Tampa. Left all his dough to them. Town surely was disappointed, but not so much as the second Mrs. Merritt.”

I let out a giggle. “Is Mary somewhere in this crush?”

Cindy Mae nodded toward the biggest booth at the back of the diner. The one surrounded by mourners waiting to lie about the dead, if only to give the living a small measure of comfort. This was one of the reasons I did love Gett. They came together when one of the community needed support. Helping with Lucky Whiskey was just one example.

This sort of caring wasn’t found in L.A. It took a special bond. The kind forged in hurricanes. In poverty. In the struggle to put one foot in front of the other in humidity so thick one could eat it for dinner and have enough left over for breakfast the next morning.

Avoiding the bodies of those fellow men and women, I managed to get less than five feet from Mary. She looked pale, but her tears had stopped. Lester and Brodie stood outside the booth next to her, as if protecting her from further harm. I swallowed back a wave of absurd jealousy.

Where had that come from?

I didn’t even like Brodie. Mary needed him, I certainly didn’t. Brodie caught my eye and then looked over me, as if making just that point. But his eyes burned hot, angry. Guess he hadn’t forgiven me yet. My own anger ignited. Who did he think he was?

“You!” Mary shouted, waving a finger in my direction.

I jumped back, almost staggering into the people behind me.

Mrs. Crest grabbed Mary’s shoulders, pulling her back. But Mary was far from finished. “How dare she—” she yelled.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Lester said to her, patting her shoulder awkwardly.

Before I could say a word, Brodie stepped forward, grabbing my arm in a painful grip. “I think you should go.”

I flinched, trying to pull away before he added to my collection of bruises. “But … I …” What could I say? Apparently, as the days passed, Mary had come to believe the worst of Jack, of my family. My chest burned, but I refused to cower. I would walk out of here, my head held high. I straightened. “Let me go. Now!” I hissed.

He did, like an afterthought. His attention was on the front door, where Boone Daniels stood. Boone sported a black eye and a violent sneer. I wondered how he’d come by the black eye.

But I didn’t wonder for long. Instead Brodie grabbed my full attention. His body stood rigid, practically vibrating. Was he that angry with me? Or was he reacting to Mary’s misplaced rage at my family?

Before I could question him, he up and left, disappearing into the crowd in front of me. I stood, my mouth wide. In that moment, I’d never felt more alone. Rather than seek internal solace, I went with equal parts rage and outrage.

All directed at Brodie Gett.

This was exactly how I’d felt in high school. One minute everything would be cool between us, and then Brodie would flip a switch and either torment me into doing something outrageously stupid or completely ignore my existence. Well, I wasn’t going to stand for it. Not now. Not when I was a mature adult. “Bastard,” I whispered.

Mrs. Branson gave me the evil eye—that or she was using her one good eye to see who’d spoke. “Is that any way to talk about yourself?” she said in a low voice. “Your mama and daddy did marry after all.”

I smiled politely, using years upon years of acting skill to keep my voice even. “Yes, they did. Thank you for the kind reminder.”

She nodded. Heck, I deserved an Academy Award for that. Or maybe not. If I had one handy, I’d likely smack her and then Brodie in the head with it. I smiled as a satisfying fantasy grew in my head. My daydreaming ended when a wave of whispers filled the room.

“What’s going on?” I asked Cindy Mae, who stood by the window, her face pinched as if in pain. My heart slammed in my chest. Was she about to have her baby right here, right now? “Are you in labor?”

“What?!” She let out a hoot. “I hope not. I have a feeling this one will slip right out. No warning.”

I grinned. She did have a point. “Then what’s wrong?” I asked.

Instead of answering, she waved outside to the parking lot, where Brodie and Boone squared off, preparing to fight.

I gasped. What was Brodie doing?

Boone would fight dirty, using anything he could to one-up Brodie. I moved to the door as quickly as I could through the crush, throwing it open in time to hear Boone’s mocking tone. “Whatcha gonna do about it, pretty boy?” He stopped, his voice cruel. “That bitch needs to know her place. On her knees,” he joked. “And I’m the man to show her.”

My fists clenched. I didn’t know who Boone was talking about, but I felt sorry for her nonetheless. My mind flashed to the night he’d attempted to rape me. The feel of his hands on my skin. His foul breath in my face. I gagged. Brodie glanced up, as if we’d relived the same memory.

Boone took advantage of Brodie’s distraction, sending his fist flying toward Brodie’s face. The punch landed with force, knocking Brodie a few steps back. He wiped a smear of blood welling from his lip, and smiled at Boone. A cold, terrifying smile.

I swallowed. This Brodie could and would kill.

Before Boone knew what hit him, Brodie hurled his body at the smaller man, taking them both to the dirt. Dust flew up around them as did the occasional fist. The sound of fist meeting flesh and bone and sporadic grunts filled the air. A crowd had now gathered in a circle around the fighters. They yelled and jeered. Not one of them tried to stop the beating.

My fingernails dug into my palms. I had to do something.

Brodie managed to gain the upper hand, methodically slamming his fist into Boone’s body. Boone howled with rage. Grabbing dirt, he threw it into Brodie’s eyes. Brodie reared back, apparently blinded. He swiped at his eyes, leaving his body open.

Boone landed a few hard hits to Brodie’s handsome face. Brodie took a few wild swings until his vision cleared and then Boone was in for it. Brodie grabbed Boone’s head, forcing it to the dirt. He leaned down, whispering.

The crowd leaned in to hear.

Too late to overhear whatever Brodie had said.

Much to their dismay.

Boone tried to buck Brodie off of him. But Brodie held tight. A flash of steel glinted in the sun. “Look out!” I yelled starting forward as Boone pulled a knife from his boot.

Before I reached the combatants, Danny pushed through the onlookers. “Drop it!” he yelled, kicking at the knife. It clattered to the dirt. Brodie took full advantage, clocking Boone in the jaw. His head snapped back with a sickening thud.

“Stop,” Danny said to his brother.

Blood running from his busted lip, Brodie held up his hands as he staggered to his feet. His once white shirt was stained with dirt and blood. A rip ran down the collar.

Boone laid on the ground, gasping. “I want to press charges.” He wobbled to his knees, his own face nearly unrecognizable from the blood soaking it. “Do you hear me, Sherriff? I want your kin arrested for assault.”

Danny smirked, much like he did whenever my name was mentioned, as if humored by his disgust. “Keep quiet or else I’ll toss your ass in the slammer for illegally carrying that knife.” He leaned down, voice so quiet the crowd hushed to hear him. “Got me?”

Boone said nothing, doing the wise thing, for once. He staggered to his feet, pushing through the crowd. Unfortunately, I was between him and his truck. His eyes blazed with such hate that I stepped back, my heart slamming in my chest.

“You better hope I don’t find you alone one of these nights,” he growled.

“Move along, Daniels,” Danny ordered in his cop tone. Just this once, the sound didn’t grate on my last nerve. In fact, it warmed the chill currently prickling my flesh. Boone gave me one last heated glare and then stormed off. He leapt into his oversized truck, pulling out of the parking lot, wheels and dirt spinning.

I glanced back to Brodie, who leaned against the wall of the diner. He’d removed his torn shirt, holding it up to his bloody mouth. It was then that I noticed the angry, red scar on his chest. A round, jagged scar. The sort left by a bullet.

Brodie caught my eye.

He spat a glob of blood into the dirt and turned away.