He knew when he sold the car there should be enough left over after paying the bank to take decent care of Faith and the baby. Classic cars like this one were worth a small fortune to the right car buff. Celebrities especially liked owning them.
It wasn’t like he hadn’t planned to sell it some day. He just wasn’t ready to sell the sweet thing yet. His dream of becoming well-known for his expertise in the field of restoring these automotive treasures was fading fast. He’d intended to use the Mustang to advertise his craft to major collectors around the country and eventually develop a well-paying career. Then he’d never have to answer to “Boyd’s boy” again.
The beginning of a headache throbbed behind his eyes. So much for pipe-dreams. Deal with it, Walker. You’ve done it before and you can do it now. Somehow, his inner pep talk didn’t make him feel any better.
He flipped through the current buyers catalog to a page he’d dog-eared earlier. The one offer he’d already received had been lower than he’d wanted, so he’d declined. He wasn’t giving the car away, for cryin’ out loud.
There were a couple of collectors in the Galveston area who might meet his asking price. He’d heard of them through a contact in Houston. Lots of good money down on the Gulf Coast. He’d often thought of relocating to that area. Sun, sand, surf, and plenty of eager clients with money to burn. Yessir, that would be a perfect set-up for his dream business.
A derisive laugh slipped out. No more dreams for him. Being responsible for Faith and her child was a reality check guaranteed to put the skids on any of those fantasies damn straight. But he wouldn’t have it any other way.
Knowing he couldn’t put it off any longer, he went into his office and picked up the phone, but before he had time to dial, a rough voice behind him cut through the dial tone in his ear.
“Nice car, Walker.”
Buddy Lee slammed the phone down and spun around, knocking over a half-empty cup of stale coffee in his haste. He tossed a shop rag over the mess and uttered a graphic word he didn’t use very often.
The last man he ever wanted to see again stood in the doorway with a nasty smirk distorting his swollen lip and bruised face. Living proof that slime could walk and talk.
He bolted out of his office to bar the way to the work area, primed and ready to go head-to-head if necessary. “What the hell are you doing here, Webb? If you aim to walk out of here upright, you’ve got five seconds to haul ass and that’s being generous.” He itched for an excuse to permanently rearrange Royce’s face.
Royce remained near the entry door. “Well now,” he said, his smirk turning into an ugly leer, “I’ve got some interesting information I think you’ll want to hear.”
“You’ve got nothing to say that’s worth my attention,” Buddy Lee snapped. His whole his body tightened. How could Faith have ever imagined she was in love with this worthless piece of garbage?
“Oh, no? Well, listen to this.” Royce moved ever so slightly inside the door and lowered his voice to a hoarse whisper. “I know the baby isn’t yours, Walker.” He snickered. “Did you really think I wouldn’t find out about your little scheme? You did well for yourself, marrying Faith and claiming my child. Especially with your small-time business about to go belly-up.”
“What do you mean?” Buddy Lee lunged, but Royce was too quick. He side-stepped just out of reach.
“Oh, I know all about your note and the sorry state of your bank account. Don’t forget, I work at the bank. All sorts of information crosses my desk. I’m sure you don’t want Faith’s daddy to find out who the baby’s real father is, now do you? That would ruin your little scheme to get your hands on Faith’s money.” His eyes glittered like a predator closing in on a kill. “But, I’ll keep my mouth shut for a price.”
The nasty threat turned Buddy Lee’s blood to ice water. Did Royce really know the truth or was he just bluffing? Doc Sutter was the only other person who knew that privileged information.
“You’re crazier than I thought, Webb, if you believe that,” he snarled. “You don’t have any proof.”
“Oh, I’ve got proof, all right. And don’t think I won’t use it. Ever heard of DNA? No court in Texas would deny me the right to my own child. Faith would have to agree to share custody. And wouldn’t that just please old man Morgan? The kid wouldn’t have the disgrace of being a Walker, after all.” Royce edged toward the door with all the stealth of a coward.
Buddy Lee winced. What Royce said was true. The Walker name didn’t come with any social clout or fancy family tree. But what it did come with was his own sense of honor and decency. If push came to shove, he’d deal with the Devil himself, just so Faith could stay with him.
The hole in his heart got bigger. He’d made a promise to her. What kind of sorry excuse for a friend would he be if he failed? Loser, loser, loser. Just like his daddy.
“So, do you want that kid or not?” Royce prodded.
Did he? Could he honestly say “yes”? His gut knotted as he wrestled with his conscience, wondering what else was on the man’s twisted mind.
“What’s it to you?” He balled his fists at his side. Every time he moved, the sharp pain under his ribs reminded him he’d be better off to avoid another brawl. Dammit.
“You have something I want,” Royce said. “Take me up on my offer and I’m out of your hair for good. No one will hear the truth about the kid from me—ever. Let the little ankle-biter make your life miserable. I never wanted any part of parenthood.”
“I’m listening.” Buddy Lee clenched and unclenched his fists to keep from smashing Webb’s face. The man wasn’t worthy of breathing the same air as Faith. How could she have wanted to marry him?
“Give me your Mustang, free and clear. That’s a real easy way for you to keep Faith and her sprout, eh?” He glanced at his watch. “It’s two o’clock now. Plenty of time for you to get the title transferred. But, if you don’t, just remember, I’ve got proof. Would you want to drag Faith through all that and take a chance that she’d change her mind and marry me after all, for the sake of the child?”
Royce rubbed the bruised side of his face, then his mouth twisted in a sinister smirk. “I’ll be back tonight after you close up. Deal?”
Buddy Lee’s mind was spinning U-ees again. Faith or his livelihood? He would lose, no matter which one he chose.
“Let me get this straight. You want my car in return for giving up your claim as the father of Faith’s child? What kind of pond scum are you, anyway? And why should I trust you?”
“Life’s full of unexpected hazards, Walker. I’ve already figured out what’s important to me. Now you’ll have to decide what’s more important to you, your business or Faith and her brat.”
“What guarantee do I have that you’ll keep quiet after you have the car? That you won’t show up later to claim the child?”
“You’ll just have to trust me, won’t you?”
“Like that’s gonna happen,” Buddy Lee scoffed. As far as he was concerned, the words trust and honor weren’t used in the same breath as Royce Webb’s name. He didn’t trust a dead snake anymore than a live one. Webb definitely qualified for one of the two.
“Believe me, I’ll be far away from this two-bit town. You and Faithwill be the first things I’ll forget.” He tossed Buddy Lee an arrogant salute. “Have the car ready to roll when I come back.”
Buddy Lee reined in his fury and waited a full ten seconds before he slammed the door on Webb’s retreating back. If he hadn’t, Deputy Pike and his men would’ve had one helluva homicide to clean up.
Charging back into the work area, he grabbed a wrench and hurled it against the wall. That should’ve made him feel better, but it didn’t. He was so damned mad, he slung the protective canvas over the Mustang before he accidentally did permanent damage to it. Then he yanked open the hood of Joe Bob’s delivery truck and peered in, but he couldn’t remember what the heck he was supposed to fix.
“So, Walker, whaddaya’ hear from the sheriff? They ever figur
e out if somebody was in the shop or not?”
Without warning, a gravelly voice close to his ear jarred Buddy Lee from his deep concentration. He whipped around sudden-like and thwacked his head a good one on the underside of the truck hood. Sonuva...!
“Dammit, Scooter, how many times have I told you not to sneak up on me when I’m working?” He could feel a lump already taking shape when he rubbed his hand over the injured spot. Cripes! What else?
“Yeah, I know, B.L., I just forgot. Sorry, dude.” Scooter sent Buddy Lee a remorseful glance, set his can of cola on the cluttered workbench and slouched against the truck fender.
“Well, try to remember, okay? And no, Elroy hasn’t figured out a damn thing.” The throbbing in his head increased.
“Too bad. But, hey, what I come by to tell you is...I saw that same gorilla-looking fella again yesterday, driving out by the county line. I was walking back from a card game at Homer Seavers’ place and that goon shot past me doin’ eighty, at least. Durn near hit me, too. Dumb dipstick.”
“That right?” Buddy Lee tried not to show too much interest, which wasn’t hard to do since the granddaddy of all headaches was making his eyes start to cross.
With Scooter latching on to every bit of hearsay like a leech on bare skin, Buddy Lee didn’t want to encourage his participation in this particular situation. Not yet, anyway. But he wasn’t against getting a little information of his own.
“What time was that?” He tried massaging his temples. No relief there.
“Oh, must’ve been gettin’ on towards dark-thirty. I was hurrying to get home in time to watch that new fishing show on the cable channel, ya’ know? Nearly nine, I reckon. Lost my watch, so I ain’t for sure. Why?”
Why. Scooter’s aggravating, all-time favorite word. “No reason.” He was really straining now to keep from swearing a blue streak at the pain in his head. “Did you happen to notice which way he went when he got to I-35?”
“Yep, headed South. Probably going to San Antone.” Scooter shrugged and retrieved his drink. One last swallow finished it off, then he tossed the can in the recycle bin and dragged his sleeve across his mouth. “By the way, how come your face looks like you walked into a swinging door? Married life gettin’ the best of you?” He guffawed and pretended to punch Buddy Lee’s arm.
Buddy Lee glared at him. “My married life is fine.” Yeah, it just keeps getting better and better. But at least he was getting used to sleeping on the sofa. He could go a full two hours now before he had to get up and walk the kinks out of his back. Something to celebrate, right along with his celibate life-style and lack of a healthy bank account. Sheese!
Scooter angled him a doubtful look. “So how’d you get the bruises then?”
“Well, I sure as hell didn’t get them from my wife.” He stomped over to the vending machine and shoved some quarters in the slot.
From the corner of his eye, he could see Scooter pacing back and forth. His friend’s impatience wasn’t hard to miss, but if he was waiting to find out the rest of the story, tough luck. Wasn’t gonna happen.
“Speaking of Faith,” Scooter prompted, a slow grin hitching up the corners of his mouth, “how’s she getting along? Sure lots of folks curious about what’s happened. You know, ‘bout the baby and stuff.”
“Why would they be curious about that?” Buddy Lee pulled back the tab on his can of root beer. “Nothing happened that they didn’t learn about in Mr. Garvey’s biology class.”
He took a long, deep swallow. Something Scooter had mentioned about seeing that shady character in Liberty again bothered the hell out of him. Nagged like a sore tooth. Shoot, he sure didn’t need anything more to worry about.
“Well,” Scooter stuck his hand in the plastic jar behind a red tool box and pulled out a licorice whip from Buddy Lee’s private stash. Two bites later, he said, “There’s talk that Royce has been asking some questions around town about the two of you. And Faith’s daddy let it be known that he and the missus didn’t approve of their daughter carrying on with you at all.”
Buddy Lee swore under his breath. “Like the whole town didn’t already know that. What else are they saying?”
Scooter went for another licorice whip. “Some are wonderin’ if Faith’s gonna go to Doc Sutter. You know, for the baby and all. MayBeth Patterson heard from a neighbor that Faith had already called some doctor in Granite City. And some folks are even wonderin’ if she’s really having a baby, ‘cause she don’t even look like she’s three months gone. You know. Just stuff like that.” He bit off more licorice and chewed noisily.
“Hellfire, Scoot, has anyone in this town thought about minding their own business? Faith is doing just fine and so am I, thank you very much.” Buddy Lee slammed his cold drink can on top of his tool box. “Pass it on,” he muttered right before he slid under the truck on a grease-coated creeper.
He grabbed the first wrench he saw and attacked a rusty bolt with a vengeance. Why was he surprised that he and Faith were the hot topic of gossip around town? He’d more or less expected that. What worried him the most was the ultimatum Royce had given him. How the hell could he not choose Faith and the baby? But if he did, how would he support them if he lost the shop? Which he surely would with no money. His headache now reached the intensity of a dozen out-of-control jackhammers.
He pounded at the stubborn bolt, missed and smacked his thumb. He swore. Very loudly. Very colorfully.
“Well, hell, don’t get your boxers in a bunch, B.L.,” Scooter said. “I was just answerin’ your questions. What’s got you so riled, anyway?”
He just grunted “Hummph” and kept on working. Maybe if he ignored him, his friend would go away.
Scooter leaned down to peer under the truck. His head bumped the fender, throwing him off balance. When he shuffled to keep from falling, his foot plowed into a pile of tools. The entire thirty-six-piece set of wrenches and screwdrivers flew across the floor, along with a brand-new set of sockets he’d managed to knock off the fender.
Buddy Lee shot out from under the truck like the creeper was powered by a V-8 engine.
“Dammit, Scooter, don’t you have some place to be?”
Liberty’s number one connection to the Gossip Channel looked down at him with eyes lit up like he’d just had an epiphany. “You ain’t gettin’ any, are you, B.L?” He slapped his knee and cackled. “No wonder you’re so testy.”
Buddy Lee chunked an empty oil can at his friend, hating like hell when Scooter was right. “Not that it matters,” he muttered. There were other problems to consider besides his desire to take Faith to bed again.
Scooter hustled out the door and down the street, still laughing.
Buddy Lee crawled back under the truck. With luck, and a whole lot of concentration, he should be able to focus on those problems any minute now.
An hour later, he flipped the CLOSED sign on the door and went home. He still didn’t know what was wrong with Joe Bob’s truck, but he’d figured out what to do about Faith.
Chapter Eleven
“You’re early.” Faith turned from where she stood at the kitchen sink, a dish towel in her hand.
Buddy Lee glanced at the dishes in the soapy water, then back at her. Shadows lurked beneath her eyes and her face was drawn, fatigue evident in the fine lines pinching the corners of her mouth. His heart lurched right before his protective mode kicked in. He almost forgot how angry he’d been when he’d stormed out earlier.
“Shouldn’t you be resting? You don’t have to do the housework around here. I can take care of it.” He tried to tame the edge of roughness in his voice, but couldn’t, no matter how hard he tried.
They’d parted on a sour note and he ought to apologize, but he was still smarting from the fact that he’d pretty much given her his blind trust when he married her and yet, she hadn’t trusted him enough to tell him the whole truth about her relationship with Royce. About his abusive nature. That was a whole lot to swallow, but he was trying.
She t
ook a hesitant step forward. Offered him a half-smile, then said with a slight shrug of her shoulders. “I didn’t do much. Washing a few dishes won’t hurt me.”
“Yeah, well....” How much was too much? What he knew about expectant mamas you could put in one of those fancy tea cups with room left over, but he was pretty sure they needed a lot of rest. Especially when they’d been roughed up like Faith had been. If he was feeling like he’d been dragged through a knot-hole backwards, he could just imagine how she felt.
She looked so small and fragile. He knew she liked to put on a tough front, one he’d seen up close more than once, but today she appeared especially vulnerable. And he felt so damned helpless about the whole mess.
“Buddy Lee....” She placed her hand on his arm.
“Faith, I....” The electric shock of her touch jolted him and his words bumped into hers.
She looked up at him, green eyes soft and shining. “I’m sorry about this morning.” Her small hand slid down to burrow its way into his big one. “I know I should’ve told you about the other time, about Royce and all, but I was ashamed. Everything was so mixed up. I couldn’t ask any more of you. Believe me, I never thought....” Her voice wobbled. She turned away and hurried out of the room, but not before he saw tears dampen her cheeks.
He found her standing in his bedroom, staring out the window, arms crossed protectively at her waist. Her suitcase lay open on the bed, the clothes she’d taken on their honeymoon neatly arranged inside.
I’m losing her. His heart dropped so suddenly, his nervous system short-circuited.
There was nothing he could do to stop her from leaving if she really wanted to. And giving up the Mustang in exchange for