Roarke Perry exited his rental SUV and stepped inside Farrah’s Coffee Shop. He smiled fondly as he inhaled the familiar scent. Dark, rich Columbian-roast coffee and a wide range of delicious pies. He’d always loved this little place. They had amazing coffee and Ms. Farrah made the best Texas pecan fudge pie in the state. Before he saw his father, Sterling Perry, again for the first time in years he needed both.
He got in line behind two women; one of them was a very pretty tomboy with a long brown braid over one shoulder. The other was a gorgeous biracial woman with high cheekbones, dark almond-shaped eyes and miles of smooth creamy skin. She wore cutoff jean shorts, a flouncy off-the-shoulder Bohemian blouse and her long legs were capped by a pair of broken-in brown-and-black cowboy boots. Her dark hair fell down her back in waves.
There was something about her voice and the sound of her laugh that captivated him.
The woman ordered a slice of lemon icebox pie and her friend ordered cherry. When she turned to leave, she nearly collided with him, but he reached out and grabbed her shoulders, halting her.
“Oh, my gosh, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”
“No worries. The important thing is we saved the pie.” He winked at her.
Her dark eyes twinkled as they studied his.
Something about her almost seemed familiar. The way she stared at him made him wonder if she didn’t feel the same. But he wasn’t about to trot out that old, tired line. Especially since the woman was sporting a sizable engagement ring on her slim finger.
It was just as well. His reasons for returning to Houston were anything but social. And in just a few days, he’d be returning to Dallas. His home since college.
“Well, thank you for saving my pie.” She lifted the small dessert plate. “My apologies again.”
He tipped an imaginary Stetson and nodded as she and her friend made their way to a booth near the back of the coffee shop.
The gorgeous woman’s fiancé was a very lucky guy.
* * *
Roarke owned a luxury condominium in town in the same building where his older twin sisters, Angela and Melinda, owned condos. But the executive he’d leased it to wouldn’t be vacating the space for a few more days. So he got into the SUV and headed toward Perry Ranch—his family’s opulent, sprawling estate just outside Houston.
The Perry family’s lifestyle was financed by Perry Holdings, a billion-dollar operation that consisted of finance, construction, real estate and property management entities.
Sterling Perry’s name carried a lot of clout in Houston, a city where his father wielded much power. Though apparently not enough to prevent him from being accused of running a Ponzi scheme that caused clients to lose millions of dollars. Nor had it prevented him from being tossed into jail. Much to Sterling’s surprise, to be sure.
Roarke was an attorney. Though, much to his father’s chagrin, he’d chosen not to work for Perry Holdings. Instead, his Dallas-based civil law practice represented underserved clients who typically couldn’t afford to pay a retainer up front. Still, from his office in Dallas, he’d taken an active role in helping to clear his father of the charges that had been leveled against him.
Sterling Perry had the ethics of a rattlesnake. It sickened Roarke that he’d spent countless hours trying to defend the man when he had clients whose cases required his full attention.
Most sons would defend their fathers against such accusations with their last breaths. Even if their fathers weren’t bastions of decency, the familial bond made them want to believe the best of their fathers.
Roarke and Sterling Perry shared no such bond.
He was the youngest of the Roarke brood and Sterling’s only son. But he was by no means the apple of his father’s eye. A reality that had pained him throughout his childhood.
No matter what he did, or how hard he tried, his father never gushed with pride, the way he had over even the smallest accomplishments of his three older sisters. As a young boy, he’d been starved for his father’s approval. As a teenager, he’d resolved himself to the fact that there was nothing he could do to earn the man’s affections.
Roarke could believe a host of horrible things about Sterling Perry. That he was running a Ponzi scheme simply wasn’t one of them.
His father had considered Bernie Madoff and his ilk delusional rubes for thinking they could pull off such a scheme. Besides, Perry Holdings Inc. was flush with cash. There was no earthly reason his father would’ve been enticed to take such a risk.
Those were the reasons he firmly believed in his father’s innocence. Not because they shared a surname.
But even his father’s arrest hadn’t been reason enough for him to come home. He’d worked on the case and consulted with his father’s lawyers from his office in Dallas.
He’d come home for one reason. At his sister Angela’s request, he was here to prove, once and for all, he was not the son of Ryder Currin—the sworn enemy of their father and the man his sister had been seeing for the past several months.
Angela had called him in Dallas, panicked after she’d met with an old family friend. Lavinia Cardwell was a wealthy local philanthropist, a major contributor to the Texas Cattleman’s Club, and a notorious gossip.
Lavinia had informed his sister about the rumor that he was really Ryder Currin’s son. A rumor Roarke was well aware that his own father believed, though he’d never, ever mentioned it to any of them. His sister had asked Ryder to prove that it wasn’t true by agreeing to a paternity test.
To Ryder’s credit, he had.
Roarke didn’t believe the rumors, but if it would save his sister’s sanity and finally put those old rumors to bed, it would be worth it.
He pulled the SUV up to the guard post on his family’s vast estate and greeted the older man who’d been the head security guard since Roarke was a teen.
“Good to see you, Mr. Perry.” A slow smile spread across Ben Mattison’s face as he reached out to shake his hand. “Your family is eagerly awaiting your arrival.”
“You mean my sisters are eagerly awaiting my arrival.” Roarke stared at the house, his jaw tense. When he looked back at Ben, there was a slight downturn of the man’s mouth. An all too familiar look of pity dimmed his eyes.
“If you don’t mind me saying, sir, I’m quite sure the old man misses you, too.” Ben forced a smile as he tipped his hat and pushed the button to open the gate.
Roarke acknowledged the man’s words with a nod, but time and experience had taught him the folly of allowing himself to believe them.
He entered the slowly opening iron gate and drove toward the sprawling stone mansion that had always reminded him of a castle out of place amid the pastures and elegant barns. By the time he arrived at the house and parked in the drive, Roarke’s three sisters were already assembled on the large porch.
“Baby brother!” Esme, six years his senior, squealed, hugging him as soon as he exited the vehicle.
“You realize I’m almost thirty, right?” he asked as he released her.
“You realize I’ll be calling you that when you’re seventy, right?” she shot back, her blue eyes sparkling.
“Roarke!” Melinda ruffled his hair, much darker blond than her own, and hugged him tight. She was one of the fraternal twins and eleven years his senior. “It’s about time you came home for a visit.”
“I know.” Roarke hadn’t realized how much he’d missed his sisters. Surrounded by the trio of willowy blondes who he knew loved him without question, the tired excuses he usually made for not coming home felt lame, even to him. “But I’m here now. And I came bearing gifts. Take a look in the back seat.”
Esme squealed again and she and Melinda were chattering about Farrah’s pies as Angela approached him and hugged him tight.
“Thank you so much for coming, Roarke. This means a lot to all of us, including Dad.” Angela’s gaze dropped when he gave her an incredulous frown. “But especially to me.”
Roarke gathered his bags, and Angela took the leather messenger bag from him as they headed toward the house trailing behind Esme and Melinda, each carrying a pie.
He draped an arm over Angela’s shoulder and lowered his voice, so only she could hear him. “By tomorrow night, you’ll have a definitive answer. Then everything should be fine between you and Ryder.”
“I don’t know.” She glanced up at him. “You should’ve seen his face when I confronted him about the rumor.”
“Was he angry?” Roarke regarded his sister with concern.
“Worse. He was genuinely hurt that I wouldn’t just accept his assertion that you couldn’t possibly be his son.” Her blue eyes glistened with tears. “I think maybe you were right. It may be impossible for us to recover from this.”
“Wasn’t the paternity test Ryder’s idea?”
She nodded, quickly wiping away tears. “He was determined to prove it isn’t true. He insists that he and Mom were only good friends. That he would never have... That they didn’t...”
Angela hadn’t been able to finish the thought, and Roarke was glad. He didn’t want to contemplate the possibility. Their mother had died in a car crash the year he’d graduated high school. Without her as a buffer between him and his father and with his sisters off on their own, his time with Sterling had been intolerable. They’d both said things they could never take back. And at the end of that awful summer, he hadn’t been able to leave for college fast enough.
“I understand how unsettling this must be for both of you. Just focus on one objective at a time. First resolve this concern. Then you two can address any issues of trust it may have caused.” He’d said it as if it were the simplest thing in the world, despite knowing otherwise.
Angela forced a smile and nodded. “I might need to impose on you for one more thing, Roarke. Ryder was supposed to be my date for the American Cancer Society gala this weekend. I have to be there to represent Perry Holdings. I can’t let it seem as if we’re cowering and hiding while this investigation is going on. As if we believe Dad has done something wrong.”
Roarke sighed and nodded. He’d hoped to get in and out quickly, seeing as few people in this town as necessary. But he wouldn’t leave Angela sullen and alone at what he knew to be one of her favorite society events. “If you and Ryder haven’t patched things up by then, I’ll be your plus-one.”
“Thanks, little brother.” She slipped an arm around him. “I’m glad you’re home. And one more thing... You need to tell Dad that you’re a big part of the reason he’s at home on house arrest rather than sitting in a jail cell right now.”
“I’m done trying to make Sterling accept me, Ang. We are what we are.” Roarke set his bag against the wall in the foyer. “I’m here because you asked me to come. That’s it. The work I’ve been doing on his behalf I’ve been doing for you, Melinda and Esme. And for the Perry legacy.”
“I understand. But wouldn’t it be better to take credit for what you’ve done than to listen to him complain for the next three days about how his only son doesn’t give a damn about him?”
“He’s not entirely wrong.” Roarke massaged the tension in his neck that intensified with every step he took toward Sterling Perry.
Angela elbowed his side. “You don’t mean that.”
He opened his mouth to object, but his sister fixed him with a stare, her arms folded.
“You don’t mean that,” she repeated.
He sighed. “Fine. Where is the old man, anyway?”
“Right here,” his father called from atop the stairs, his voice stern. “Not that you care a single solitary lick.” Sterling Perry descended the stairs. “I footed the bill for that fancy law degree you insist on wasting on small potatoes clients. Yet, you didn’t use a whiff of what you learned to come to my aid.”
“Hello to you, too, Sterling.” Roarke usually didn’t call his father that to his face, but the man had managed to piss him off within ten seconds of his arrival.
The older man scowled at the use of his name. “What brings you here, boy?”
Roarke’s hands instantly curled into fists at his sides. A natural reaction to being raised by an asshole father who everyone else seemed to think walked on water.
At least they had prior to his father being accused of running a Ponzi scheme. Then there was the body that had been found at the building site of the new Houston chapter of the Texas Cattleman’s Club. A construction site run by Perry Holdings. The victim hadn’t been identified as of yet, and his father hadn’t been formally implicated in the murder. But Roarke feared it was only a matter of time before investigators tried to pin that on Sterling, too.
“He’s here to see you, of course, Dad.” Melinda kissed her father on the cheek. “Why else would he be here?” She smiled sweetly at Roarke, but her eyes pleaded with him to just go along.
He’d spent his entire damn life “just going along” with Sterling Perry’s nonsense. First, at the behest of his late mother. Then at the bidding of his sisters. It was the reason he hadn’t been able to get out of there fast enough. And it was the reason he hadn’t moved back.
Roarke had come to the conclusion that Houston wasn’t big enough for him and Sterling Perry. And that was just fine by him. Dallas was his home now.
“In fact, Roarke didn’t want you to know it, but he was instrumental in getting you released on house arrest. He’s been working tirelessly behind the scenes to get you exonerated,” Angela added quickly, before he could object.
“That true, boy?” Sterling walked toward him.
Roarke shoved his hands in his pockets and nodded. “Yes, sir. It is.”
“Hmm.” Sterling sniffed, as if weighing the possibility that his “worthless” son had been the one to secure his release.
“Seems to me that if you were able to get me out on house arrest, if you’d pushed a little harder, I’d be completely exonerated.” Sterling shrugged in response to his daughters’ groans of disapproval at his signature lack of gratitude. “Well, I am innocent, and he’s supposed to be a hotshot champion for the underdog. I’ve done nothing wrong. Yet, I’m being treated like a common criminal.”
Their father stuck his foot out and lifted his pant leg, revealing his ankle monitor. “This thing itches like the dickens.”
“For once, Dad, could you at least try not to be so awful to Roarke?” Esme folded her arms, her voice sharp as she narrowed her gaze at their father. “Despite his busy caseload, Roarke found a way to get you released from that hellhole. And he dropped everything to come here.”
Sterling inhaled deeply, looking as if his youngest daughter’s words had pained him. Finally, he stuck out a hand and offered it to Roarke.
“Thank you for getting me out of there.”
He shook his father’s hand. “You’re welcome.”
“Now that you’re here, you’ll be able to investigate further. Someone set me up and as soon as I find out who, there’ll be hell to pay. I can’t live like this.” He indicated the ankle bracelet again. “Not to mention what it’s doing to my name and the value of our business. You have got to get to the root of this. Find out who did this to me. To all of us.”
His father had a stable of high-priced lawyers. So how in the hell had he suddenly been tasked with being the lead investigator responsible for clearing Sterling Perry’s name?
“I brought my case file, and there are a few people I’d like to question. See if they can shed a little more light on how this all got started.” Roarke indicated the messenger bag Angela was carrying.
“Good, let’s step into the den and talk shop.”
“Now?” Roarke hoped to get a moment to regroup before sitting down to discuss the case.
“Can’t think of a better time.” Sterling headed into the den.
Roarke groaned, taking the bag from his sister as he followed his father to the den. He hadn’t been there five minutes and already Sterling was manipulating him. He couldn’t get on that return flight to Dallas fast enough.
He took a seat and met his father’s stare. “Do you have any ideas about who might’ve set you up?”
“You’re damn right I do.” His father flicked a glance toward the entry hall, where his sisters were chattering about putting the pies on plates. Sterling closed the door, then sat in a leather wingback chair identical to the one in which he was seated.
“Ryder Currin is trying to destroy me, as sure as I’m sitting here looking at you.” Sterling pointed a finger emphatically.
“Ryder Currin?” Roarke repeated the name, but more quietly after his father shushed him. The two men had been rivals for as long as Roarke could remember. And with the latest chapter of the Texas Cattleman’s Club being established in Houston, both men were vying for leadership roles. Then, there was the fact that his sister Angela was seeing the man. “Look, I know there’s no love lost between you two, but do you honestly think he’d go to such lengths to ruin you?”
“Do you honestly believe it’s a coincidence that all of this is happening when I’m making a bid to be president of the Houston branch of the Texas Cattleman’s Club?” Sterling retorted.
His father went to the bar and poured them both a glass of whiskey. Roarke accepted it gratefully and sipped. The tension in his neck melted a little as heat from the premium whiskey spread through his body.
“First, Ryder Currin takes a sudden liking to my girl out there.” Sterling nodded toward the door. “Next, I’m accused of running a goddamn Ponzi scheme. Then a dead body is found at my construction site.” He took a long pull of his whiskey, then set the glass down hard on a nearby side table. “No, sir. Ain’t no way this is all a coincidence.”
“I’ll grant you that,” Roarke acknowledged, taking another sip of his whiskey. “And it may very well be connected to the Texas Cattleman’s Club coming here to Houston. But it’s a long stretch to accuse Ryder Currin of being behind it all.”
“Why am I not surprised that you’d take his side?” Sterling groused, grabbing the bottle of whiskey and refilling his glass.
“I’m not taking his side, Ster—” Roarke inhaled a deep breath, then released it. “I’m not taking his side. But I won’t accuse a man of such serious crimes without a shred of proof. If we go to the prosecutor with a hunch and some conjecture, we’ll get our asses handed to us. You’re out right now—” Roarke pointed to his father with the same hand in which he held his glass of whiskey “—because I had provable facts when I contacted the prosecutors and investigators on this case. We’ll find a way to exonerate you of these false charges and clear your name. But we do it the right way. That’s the only way this works. Got it?”
The old man shrugged and rubbed a hand over his head. “Fine. We’ll do things your way. For now.”
“Good.” It was the best Roarke could hope for. He drained the remainder of his whiskey and stood. “Now, I’m starving and I’m pretty sure I smell fried chicken. Oh, and there’s pie.”
“What kind?” Sterling asked.
A half grin curled Roarke’s mouth. “Texas pecan fudge from Farrah’s.”
Sterling nodded approvingly. “Sounds good.”
Maybe he’d found the key to enduring the next three days with his father. A vat of premium whiskey and a whole lot of pecan fudge pie.
Roarke made his way upstairs, where his bag had already been taken, to get ready for dinner. But he couldn’t get the image of the gorgeous woman he’d encountered in the line at Farrah’s out of his head.