Against the Wind, Season 2, Episode 1 (Rising Storm) (2 page)

“I’m letting you stay, too,” Joanne murmured.

“You were so mean to him,” Dakota spat, the venom pouring from her. “Being so clumsy and convincing everyone that he hurt you. It was all your fault.”

Joanne stilled. She couldn’t say the words to defend herself, and even if she could, Dakota wouldn’t believe her. Plus, saying them out loud would just shine a light on how weak she’d been. She couldn’t do it yet. “I’m sorry you’re hurting, but it’s time for you to grow up. Take responsibility for your actions, and find a better way. You can do it.”

Heck. They could both do it.

“You are so useless.” Dakota turned and stalked from the room.

Could things get any worse? Quiet descended around the lemon-scented kitchen. Joanne cleaned up the mess on the floor and then put away the cleaning supplies just as her cell phone rang. “Hello,” she answered.

“Joanne, this is Marylee Rush.” If a tone could be clipped and hard at the same time, the senator’s mother managed to make it happen.

A pit dropped into Joanne’s gut. “Good morning, Mrs. Rush.”

“I’m sure you know why I’m calling.”

Joanne sank into a chair. She’d enjoyed working for the demanding woman because of the position it afforded her. The money was nice, but all of a sudden, the community had started looking at her like she was somebody with a brain. A woman with something to contribute, instead of an accident victim always in the hospital. An abused woman who wouldn’t leave. “I have an idea why you’re calling.” To her absolute shock, her tone was dry and nearly amused. She pressed her lips together to keep from actually smiling.

“Your daughter is a two-bit tramp who is
still
telling lies about my poor son. There was an article with a quote from her in this morning’s San Antonio paper.”

“I’m sure Dakota didn’t say anything. Perhaps the interview was old? Someone quoting an old story? She made an agreement with you. She knows better.”

“That girl doesn’t know diddly. And even if the quote was old, she’s done plenty of damage. I’m telling you, she will regret her lies for the rest of her life.”

Joanne lost the smile. “My daughter definitely has problems, but you and I both know she hasn’t lied about your son. Let’s not pretend with each other, all right?” She straightened in the chair, fighting the absurd urge to pump her fist in the air.

Silence ticked for the tiniest of moments. “It seems the mouse has found a backbone,” Marylee slowly muttered. “Fine. No pretending. You tell your daughter to lay low for the remainder of the campaign. She signed an agreement, and if she breaches it, we’ll go after her with everything we have.”

Anger, the real kind, swept through Joanne. She was so damn tired of being pushed around. “I’ll pass your message along, Mrs. Rush. While we’re threatening each other, let me tell you, if your son spreads any more lies about my daughter,
I’ll
go to the press. A grieving mother, afraid for her lost daughter, and angry that a powerful
politician
took advantage of her and her need for a stable father figure.”

Joanne’s breath caught. What in the hell was she doing? God. Who was she all of a sudden?

Marylee was quiet for several moments. “You’ve just made a mistake, Joanne. Anyway, I’m sure you’ll soon have your hands full with more issues than you can count and will forget this tiny rebellion. By the way, you’re fired.” The line went dead.

Joanne slowly turned the phone in her hand and stared at it. Issues? The threat had been specific, and Marylee’s tone determined.

What in the world had she just done? She was still watching for the phone to bite her as Marcus strode into the room, wearing one of his better T-shirts and dark jeans. His unruly dark hair had been tamed a little to fall to his shoulders, and his steps were light. He paused. “You okay?”

Joanne gaped at her son. “I, ah, just got fired.”

Heat filled his dark eyes. “Dakota.”

Joanne shook her head. “Mrs. Rush makes her own decisions, and frankly, I’m not sure it’s only because of Dakota’s actions. I, um, pretty much called her son a pervert and threatened to talk to the newspapers if she didn’t leave us alone.”

Marcus gaped and then quickly recovered. A different light banished the anger in his eyes—a light she couldn’t quite decipher. “Good for you.”

“You think so?” Her heart was still galloping. “I’m not sure.”

Marcus hustled toward her and pressed a hand to her upper shoulder. “Mom, you did good. We can’t let bullies push us around.”
Not anymore.
He didn’t say the words, but they lingered in the air anyway.

Pride. Holy moly, that was pride in her son’s eyes. That was the light. When was the last time one of her kids had been truly proud of her? Warmth slid through her, and her shoulders straightened. “You’re right.” Although, now she was out of a job.

As if reading her thoughts, Marcus gave her a squeeze and then stepped back. “Don’t worry. I have a job and can help with the bills.”

Joanne shook her head. “It’s my job to support you and not the other way around.”

He grinned, his handsome face all man. When had he completely lost the boyish look? “I’m an adult, Mom. Plus, we’re family. If I have income, you have income.” He stepped back.

Boy, he’d grown up in Montana. If Joanne ever met Ian Briggs, she’d give him a big hug. He’d done a tremendous job helping Marcus get rid of his anger and find focus. Find himself. She sniffed the air. “You smell nice.”

His face tinged with red. “It’s a new cologne. I’m meeting Brittany for a quick lunch.”

Brittany Rush. Joanne tried not to wince. A careful person, a cautious mom, would warn him about getting involved with the senator’s daughter. Joanne forced a smile. “I like her. She seems incredibly sweet.” Hopefully she was strong, because at some point, she’d need to be. “I’m pleased you’re finding happiness.”

Marcus nodded, obviously catching the concern. “Don’t worry about us. Brit and I have something good, and even the evil Rushes aren’t going to break us up.”

“How is Brittany doing?” Joanne asked.

“She’s managing. Of course, she’s super confused about her mom not really caring about her dad’s affairs, and she’s furious with her dad. It’s a weird situation.” Marcus grabbed a light jacket off a kitchen chair. “It doesn’t help that my own sister created such a disaster by announcing everything so publicly.”

“I know. Dakota is in so much pain, she keeps trying to get rid of it by hurting others.” Once again, Dakota sounded just like her father. “I have to believe she’ll grow up and see that there are other ways to live.” Joanne hadn’t exactly been a good example with the abuse she’d taken for so many years, although Dakota didn’t believe that. Not right now, anyway. “How are things between Brittany and Ginny?”

Marcus winced. “Considering Ginny slept with Brit’s dad and might be having his kid? Not good. Really not good.”

“She’s lucky you’re there for her,” Joanne said softly. “You’re a good man, Marcus.”

The tips of his ears turned red. “Geez, Mom.” He pecked a kiss on her forehead. “I gotta go. We’ll figure out the job stuff later.” He turned and loped out of the room. Then she heard the front door close.

Okay. What now? Perhaps she should head to town and buy a paper. There had to be somebody in Storm who’d hire her, even though it would displease Marylee Rush.

A knock sounded at the door.

She stiffened and lifted her head, listening.

Another knock.

Oh, for goodness sakes. If Hector returned, he sure as hell wouldn’t knock. She quickly stood and smoothed back her hair, hustling to open the door. Her mouth gaped open. “Tate? My, ah, sister isn’t here.”

Tate Johnson drew off a black cowboy hat, leaving his blond hair ruffled. The lawyer was cool, collected, and very handsome. “I’m not here for Hannah. We broke up, as I’m sure you’ve heard.”

Joanne bit her lip. “Yes. I, ah, heard.” Hannah had slept with Tate’s brother well over a month ago. “I’m sorry about that.”

Tate shuffled shiny loafers.

“Oh my, please come in.” Where in the world were her manners? She stepped aside and tried not to wince at the threadbare furnishings. Well, at least everything was clean. “Take a seat, Tate. Can I get you anything to drink?” She had to have some soda somewhere.

“No, thanks.” He stepped inside, tall and broad, to take a seat on the sofa.

She hesitated only a second before following him and sitting on Hector’s ripped old recliner. “Um, what can I do for you?”

Tate smiled, and for a moment, her breath caught. She’d forgotten what a handsome man he was with a whole load of charm. “I need your help,” he said, his voice deep.

Her stomach clenched. “Tate? I really can’t get involved in Hannah’s love life. I’m so sorry she hurt you, and I’m assuming she did, but it’s really not my business.” What had Hannah been thinking to sleep with this guy’s brother? Although, Tucker and Hannah truly did make sense together. They should’ve gone about it a different way. “I’m sorry.”

He smiled and sat back on the sofa, his pressed black pants looking as out of place as his perfectly ironed dress shirt. “I’m here on business.”

Joanne stiffened. “What business?” Oh God. Tate was a lawyer. Was Marylee suing her for something? What would she do? Joanne couldn’t afford an attorney. “This is a mistake.”

Tate held up a hand. “Joanne, I’m not here to hurt or scare you. This is the deal. I’m running for mayor, as you might know, and I need somebody to manage, well, me.”

She couldn’t move. “Huh?”

He chuckled. “I have a campaign manager, and I have various staff, but I need somebody to be my personal assistant. Somebody who can make sure I stick to the schedule, have speeches prepared, and even ensure my tie matches my suit. I think you’d be perfect.”

“Why?” she breathed before she could even think it through.

He lifted one eyebrow and focused in on her, giving her all his attention.

She caught her breath. For years, she’d known the Johnson boys, but this was the first time she could actually see the ambitious lawyer in his element. “Did my sister put you up to this?”

“No,” Tate said simply, his gaze direct. “Your sister has nothing to do with this, and believe me, if she asked for a favor, I’d say no way in hell.”

Landmine there. Joanne’s mind spun. “Then why?”

Satisfaction tilted Tate’s full mouth. “You’re good at what you do. Oh, I’ve watched you work for Marylee. You’re organized, dedicated, and smart. You know how to stay in the background and get things done. I need that.”

Joanne shook her head. “You don’t understand. Marylee fired me. If you’re running for mayor, you definitely need to stay on the Rushes’ good side. Hiring me won’t do that.”

“I don’t care.” Tate leaned forward, all intent. “Marylee fired you because of your daughter and not because of your skills. If she challenges me, I’ll just explain or even lie that it was a favor to your sister.” He grinned. “Either way, my campaign is better off with you helping.”

Joanne’s mind spun, but her heart leaped. She could do the job, without question. It was time for her to take control of her life and stop letting everyone push her around. “I accept.”

Chapter Two

Tate left Joanne’s home and jumped in his black SUV, heading into town for something quick to eat. Once again, he’d forgotten breakfast. He punched in a phone number on his cell phone.

“Yeah?”

“It’s a done deal. I offered her the job, and she accepted,” Tate said, turning toward Murphy’s Pub to drop off his new flyers for his mayoral campaign and hopefully bum a sandwich.

“Thanks,” Sheriff Dillon Murphy said over the line.

Tate nodded. “Oh, cousin. You are definitely going to owe me one.”

“Agreed. Besides, after she’s worked for you a while, you’ll owe me a favor. Joanne will do a phenomenal job for you.”

Tate grinned. “That’s your dick and not your brain talking, but it doesn’t mean you’re wrong.” He and Dillon weren’t just cousins, they were friends. That meant they didn’t need to mess around with niceties.

“I’m sorry about any flack you’ll face from the Rushes.”

Tate lost the smile. “That’s all right. At some point, I need to distance myself a little bit. First to get away from the scandals, and second to show that I’m my own man. This is one way to do it.”

“Yeah, I get that. Do we need to talk about Tucker and Hannah again? I mean, have you tried to forgive your brother?” Dillon asked after a long pause.

“There’s no forgiveness, and no, I do not want to hash this out again. Not unless we have a gallon of Cooder’s moonshine to split between us.” Even now, the wound was still too raw, and he was too angry to talk it out.

“Cooder’s moonshine is illegal, dumbass,” Dillon snorted. “I’m the sheriff, and you’re running for mayor. It’ll have to be good old Jack Daniels when you want to hash this shit out.”

“When I’m ready, you’re the first guy I’ll call.” Hell, it had been that way almost since Tate was born. When Tate had fallen off the monkey bars at a family picnic at the tender age of six, Dillon had all but carried him to his mother, and then later sworn, on the soul of every dead person who’d ever died in Storm, that Tate hadn’t cried at all. Not one tear. Of course, he’d sobbed like a wounded old lady.

Tate pulled to the curb next to the pub, and there was Dillon, leaning against his squad car, grinning.

Tate sighed and jumped out. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“We’re meeting for lunch,” Dillon responded with a head jerk toward the restaurant.

Tate should never have given Dillon his schedule for the day. He crossed around his vehicle to the sidewalk. “I told you that I’m fine.”

“Yeah. Fine. Except it’s been over a month since you found your brother in bed with your girlfriend, and you’re still working like a fiend. I mean, why the hell wouldn’t you be fine?” Dillon asked.

Tate stomped inside the pub with the damn sheriff on his heels. “You’re a busybody, Dillon Murphy.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” Logan Murphy, Dillon’s youngest brother, said from behind the bar as he wiped the polished oak to a fine shine. “The guy has to know everything about everybody, and then he has to figure out a plan to fix everything.”