Golden Trail

“Ryker, stand down, brother, he can’t talk if he’s got a broken jaw,” Layne said quietly not taking his eyes off Jeremy who was staring, eyes-wide, body inert, at Ryker.

  “That’s my girl,” Ryker growled.

  “I… I know, but you gotta know what she’s like,” Jeremy replied, proving just how stupid he was because that wave of rage burst out of Ryker again and Layne stood.

  Layne turned to Ryker and whispered, “Focus, brother. This guy is not our end game.”

  Ryker’s eyes didn’t move from Jeremy and Ryker’s body also didn’t move. He held it taut. He was struggling. And Devin was right, Ryker pissed was pretty, fucking scary.

  Finally, his gaze slid to Layne and Layne watched as Ryker forced his body to relax.

  Time to move on.

  Layne turned back to Jeremy.

  “You’re goin’ down,” he informed him and Jeremy’s eyes cut swiftly to Layne. “Now, though, now you gotta decide how far down you’re goin’.”

  “I –” Jeremy started but Layne cut him off.

  “I’m not done talkin’.” Jeremy snapped his mouth shut and nodded. “We’re workin’ with the cops on this and now you’re workin’ with them too.” Layne watched Jeremy gulp and he kept at him. “You’re gonna leave this office and you’re gonna convince Towers and Rutledge that everything is just fine. You’re gonna tell them you’re close, Giselle is breaking, they gotta give you some time. A week, they don’t go for that, a few days. In the meantime, you gotta know, you’re blown. Pastor Knox is changin’ the locks on the church as we speak. The Speakmon and Emmerson families know what you did and they’ve both agreed to hold fire and wait for Towers and Rutledge to go down. You’re blown but you convince your partners you’re not even though you don’t get near any of those girls, any kids from Youth Group or anyone under the age of eighteen in this town or out of it. You work with us, you don’t go down all on your own and trust me, man, Towers and Rutledge get a whiff that their scheme is goin’ south, they’ll bolt and they’ll leave you to swing.”

  “What… what do you want me to do?” Jeremy asked.

  “You get me what she’s got on Rutledge and in about fifteen minutes, you and Ryker are gonna take a ride. At the end of that ride, there’s gonna be a cop. You’re gonna tell him everything you know about Rutledge and Towers. Then, we’re gonna let you go. You get them talking in the apartment about what you’re doin’, where you’re doin’ it and when it’s gonna go down.”

  “I… they’re… she’s not stupid. She’s –”

  “I don’t give a fuck what she is. You’re not a good actor now, you got an hour to learn to be one and you stay in character all the time. When you get up, when you go to bed, when you eat, when you take a shit, when you’re fuckin’ sleepin’. All the time. Towers gets tweaked, we’ll take it out on you.”

  Jeremy didn’t move, didn’t nod, didn’t blink. He just stared at Layne.

  Layne continued. “What you gotta know is, we let you go, you try to disappear, we’ll find you. We find you, we’re not cops, we don’t have rules and when we find you, we’ll do you a favor. We’ll make it so you won’t be so attractive, and we’ll make that permanent, so when you do time you won’t be instantly made into somebody’s bitch.”

  “I –” Jeremy started, that one syllable a squeak but he stopped when Layne bent over him, getting in his face.

  “You’re good, we’ll talk to the cops, see what we can do since you cooperated. You’re not, Towers and Rutledge disappear, this gets fucked in any way, our sole focus, our only reason for living, is to find you and fuck you over so bad, Jeremy, swear to God, you’ll regret bein’ born. You get me?”

  Jeremy didn’t answer, he just stared into Layne’s eyes, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

  “You played with girls, young girls, you fucked with their heads, you freaked them out, you betrayed their trust, you took advantage and you did it through a church,” Layne whispered. “Young girls who should be worried about a pop quiz of if some boy is into them not worried about bein’ caught up in the shitty, creepy, fucked up games you’ve been playin’. That’s some fucked up shit, you asshole, and you’re gonna pay for that. But I’m givin’ you a break, a break you don’t deserve, and you get to decide how much you’re gonna pay. Now, I asked you, do you get me?”

  “I get you,” Jeremy whispered.

  Layne straightened away from him but looked down at him as he crossed his arms on his chest. “I’m glad to hear that, Jeremy. Now, I know you’re not too bright but I want you to concentrate real close on what I’m sayin’. We got you covered. We know your every move. We know where you live, what you drive, where you hang and who you fuck.” Part of this was, of course, a lie but the look on Jeremy’s face said he bought it. “So, just to repeat and make sure you get it, you are on our radar and there is no hope of camouflage. You’re playin’ our game now.”

  “Right,” Jeremy was still whispering.

  Layne stared at him a second then he cut his eyes to Devin and Ryker and walked out of the room.

  On the landing outside his office, he turned to both men when the door closed behind Ryker.

  “Find out everything you can from him,” Layne ordered Devin. “Dave Merrick should be here soon. He’s going to be listening to the bugs and he’s got two friends by the names of Ernie and Spike who are gonna be helping him. They’re all ex-cops, they know what they’re doin’ and they’ve been briefed.” Devin nodded and Layne carried on. “And I want a device on his car. You’ll find them in the storage room.”

  “Key,” was Devin’s answer and Layne dug his keys out of his pocket, twisted the key to the storage room off his ring and gave it to Devin.

  Then his eyes went to Ryker. “You’re gonna get a call from Garrett Merrick in about five minutes. He’ll tell you where to meet him. You take Jeremy there. You don’t have to handle him with care. He falls down half a flight of stairs, shit happens.” Layne watched Ryker smile his ugly smile and kept talking. “He’s scared but I want him shit scared. You stay while he talks with Garrett then you take him back to his car and turn him loose.”

  Ryker nodded.

  “Game on, men,” Layne whispered.

  “Fuckin’ A, bro,” Ryker grunted.

  Devin just stared at him then nodded.

  Layne turned away and walked down the stairs. The Bachelor Auction Powwow would be done soon which meant Rocky would be alone soon and he needed to get to his woman.

  * * * * *

  “How together are you?” Layne, standing outside on Rocky’s balcony, his phone to his ear, asked his youngest son.

  “Today freaked me, Dad, but I’m cool,” Tripp replied. “I did what Rocky said, texted Giselle to tell her I was glad she was all right, Giselle called me back and Giselle’s parents are lettin’ me go over there tomorrow to watch football then have dinner. It’s all good.”

  Layne scanned the landscape as he repeated to his son, “How together are you?”

  Tripp was silent then he asked, “I don’t know what you’re askin’, Dad.”

  “You’re fourteen, Pal, and I got somethin’ I wanna tell you. But I gotta know you can take it.”

  “Is it bad?”

  “It could have been.”

  More silence then, softly, Tripp said, “He was gonna hurt her.”

  “Yes,” Layne answered, “but he didn’t and part of the reason why he didn’t was because you made it impossible for him to get to her. That’s the part I wanted you to know.”

  Complete silence.

  “You did good, Pal.”

  More utter silence.

  “You took care of your girl.”

  Another beat of silence then, “Thanks, Dad.”

  “Nope, Tripp, I gotta thank you. This is all gonna be over soon and you and Jasper made that happen.”

  “Cool,” Tripp whispered but he didn’t sound like he thought it was cool. The word was heavy, he’d felt the weight of what could have gone down and even though that weight w
as lifted, the memory of it was fresh.

  The door opened, Roc stuck her head out and said, “Sorry, sweetheart, dinner’s almost ready. Do you want me to put it to warm?”

  “I’ll let you go,” Tripp, obviously hearing Rocky, said in his ear.

  “Give me a minute, Roc,” Layne said to Rocky, she smiled and closed the door.

  Layne watched her strut through the living room and into the kitchen as he asked Tripp, “You okay, Pal?”

  “I’m good, Dad.”

  “This shit starts fuckin’ with your head, you call me, yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good,” Layne muttered.

  “Dad?” Tripp called.

  “Yeah?”

  “Jas told me you and Roc aren’t fake anymore,” Tripp informed him and Layne pulled in a deep, silent breath.

  Then he replied, “Thought you figured that out yourself.”

  “I did, Jas just confirmed it, said you told him it wasn’t.”

  “Well, it isn’t,” Layne confirmed it again.

  Another beat of silence then, quietly, “I’m glad.”

  He knew that but it was still good to hear it.

  “That’s good, Pal,” Layne said quietly back, then, “I gotta go eat dinner.”

  “Wish I was eatin’ Rocky’s food,” Tripp muttered, Layne knew that too and he grinned.

  “Next week, Tripp.”

  “Okay,” Tripp replied then called again, “Dad?”

  “Right here, buddy.”

  “I don’t know how to say this,” Tripp told him and the muscles in Layne’s neck got tight because Tripp sounded like he didn’t know how to say whatever he had to say but also that he didn’t want to say it.

  “You can be straight with me on anything, you know that,” Layne returned.

  “Well, it’s gonna sound stupid.”

  “Nothin’ you say sounds stupid.”

  “This will,” Tripp shot back.

  “No, Tripp, it won’t. What’s on your mind?”

  “It’s just…” he paused, “Rocky.”

  Layne’s entire body got tight. “What about her?”

  “I’m glad you got her back,” Tripp said on a rush and the tightness left Layne’s body but it stayed completely still as Tripp kept talking. “For you, ‘cause you’re my Dad but mostly for her.”

  Layne was silent.

  Tripp filled the silence. “Is that weird? I mean, you’re my Dad and I should –”

  Layne cut him off. “It’s not weird.”

  “I mean, I’m glad for you but Rocky –” Tripp was still talking fast.

  “I get it, Pal,” Layne whispered.

  “Is she…” Tripp hesitated, “is she going to be okay?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Because… well, I don’t know but when I talked with Giselle today, at first, she was bein’ weird and then I realized she thought I was mad at her and I felt bad because she felt bad and I didn’t want her to feel bad because she didn’t do anything wrong. And that got me to thinking that maybe Rocky, because of what happened with you guys a long time ago, would feel bad because she thought you were mad at her but that was big, bigger than what happened with Giselle and that… that kind of thing… well, I guess I just think it would be hard to let that go.”

  Christ, but his kid was sharp.

  “I’ve let it go, Pal,” Layne assured him.

  “Has she?”

  “We’re workin’ on it.”

  “Good,” Tripp whispered.

  “Got anything else on your mind?” Layne asked.

  “No,” Tripp answered.

  “World peace? Starving nations? The state of the economy?”

  He heard Tripp’s laugh then, “No, Dad, jeez.”

  “That shit starts weighin’ on you, boy, I’m only a phone call away.”

  “Right, I’ll call when I start worryin’ about world peace,” Tripp returned.

  “I gotta eat,” Layne told his son through a smile.

  “All right, see you later.”

  “Later,” Layne said then called, “Tripp?”

  “Yeah, Dad?”

  “Love you, Pal.”

  “Love you too.”

  “Later.”

  “Later.”

  Layne flipped his phone shut and turned to the door. He opened it and was assaulted with the fumes he’d left behind ten minutes ago. Chicken tacos. Rocky had been stewing the meat all day, anxious about Giselle and turning her mind to cooking rather than worrying so she’d put it on that morning before she headed over to his place. This was another recipe she’d perfected in their kitchen years ago. Stewing in the crockpot all day meant the meat would be tender and shredded and after cooking in its spices for the last hour, full of flavor.

  Rocky was at the counter, her back to him and didn’t turn when she asked, “You need a fresh beer, baby?”

  “I’ll get it,” Layne replied but he didn’t get it. He walked up to her back, fitted his front to it and slid his arms along her belly, looking over her shoulder to see she was grating cheese.

  She didn’t stop grating when she noted, “Don’t keep beer in my stomach fridge, Layne.”

  “Mm,” Layne replied through a smile, dropped his head and kissed her neck.

  Then he lifted a hand, yanked her ponytail holder out and her hair tumbled to her shoulders.

  She stopped grating and her neck twisted so she could glare at him. “Seriously, stop doing that.”

  Layne was still smiling when he replied, “Seriously, no.”

  Her eyes narrowed then she went smack into stare down. Layne held her stare as his other arm wound around her again and when he was done with the stare down, his arms tightened and he tickled the sensitive skin at her sides.

  Her body jerked and twisted as her head shot back, her hands dropped the cheese and the grater, went to his wrists and put pressure on as she shouted through annoyed laughter, “Stop it, Layne!”

  “Nope,” Layne returned.

  “Stop!” she yelled, still twisting in his arms, putting pressure on his wrists and now she was giggling.

  Layne was relentless and he kept at her because he missed this. He knew he missed it but having it back, hearing Rocky’s laughter, feeling her body against his, doing something normal like preparing to eat dinner together, he realized he didn’t miss it, he missed it.

  And when that feeling threatened to overwhelm him, he stopped tickling her, his arms went around her tight and hard and he buried his face in the hair at her neck.

  When he didn’t speak and after she controlled her body and laughter, she called, “Layne?”

  “Right here, baby,” Layne said into her neck, not lifting his head but giving her a squeeze.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Oh yeah,” he replied.

  Her body relaxed but her hands tightened on his wrists.

  Then she asked, “Is Tripp okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  Her hands at his wrists slid along his arms so they were crossed on his.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered.

  He lifted his mouth to her ear and answered, “Nothin’, which means everything. I forgot that, I forgot how nothing meant everything.”

  “Layne,” she breathed.

  “Love you, baby.”

  Her hands squeezed his arms. “Love you too, sweetheart.” She was quiet then she said, “But Layne?”

  He lifted his head. “What?”

  “New rule. You can’t make me cry into grated cheese again.”

  He turned her around to face him and saw the tracks her silent tears left on her face. His hands moved to her jaws and he used his thumbs to wipe away the wetness.

  “Or any foodstuffs,” she went on and his eyes went from his thumbs to hers.

  “Right,” he whispered. “No making you cry into… foodstuffs.”

  She grinned up at him, put her hands to his jaws, lifted up on tiptoe and touched his mouth with hers.

  S
he didn’t take her mouth from his when she whispered, “Tacos.”

  Then she pulled gently away and opened the cupboard to take out the flour tortillas.

  Layne went to the fridge and got himself a beer, he got her a fancy-ass one and then he sat in front of the TV with his woman leaned up against him and ate heaven, Mexican style.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Enough?

  Her hand came up to his jaw, her lips at his ear, Rocky whispered urgently, “Jasper.”

  * * * * *

  Layne’s eyes opened and he saw dark.

  His cell phone on Rocky’s nightstand was ringing but Rocky didn’t move. She was out, it was the dead of night.

  Layne’s neck twisted and he reached for his cell as his eyes took in Rocky’s alarm clock. It was one oh seven in the morning.

  Fuck.

  He looked at the display on his phone and quickly flipped it open while Rocky stirred at his side.

  “Everything okay, Bud?” Layne asked Jasper.

  “Dad,” Jasper replied and the tone of that one word made Layne squeeze Rocky then swiftly slide out from under her.

  “Talk to me,” Layne ordered, coming to his feet at the side of the bed.

  “It’s Keira,” Jasper whispered, sounding freaked out.

  Fuck!

  “What’s Keira?” Layne asked, he was moving through the dark room to get clothes. In between the office and Rocky’s, he’d gone home and packed a bag. He found it and started pawing through it as he heard Rocky moving in the bed.

  “I don’t know, she’s out, she’s in my car and she’s out, Dad. Passed out. I’ve been drivin’ around, tryin’ to get her to wake up, talk to me. I can’t take her back to Mr. and Mrs. Callahan like this. They’ll freak. But it’s way passed her curfew and they’re gonna freak anyway. I don’t know what to do.”

  “Break it down for me, Bud,” Layne demanded, his phone between ear and shoulder, he tugged up his jeans, the light came on, Rocky was out of bed.

  “We went to a party. Dad… shit, okay… shit,” Jas hissed and stopped speaking.

  “Jasper, listen to me, boy, you need to give me information right now. Do not worry about getting in trouble. Focus.”

  There was a pause then, “Okay, well, there was beer and we had some.”

  Layne pulled a tee out of his bag and yanked it on, keeping his phone to his ear as best he could as Rocky disappeared into the walk-in closet.