Gambling on a Secret (3 page)

Tracy moved back.

He didn’t care she was afraid of him when he was drunk. “Leon stole our mother’s land and took away our birthright. Oak Springs Ranch should be ours!”

Tracy shook her head, tossed her hands in the air, and walked away. “I have a customer in a few minutes.” She glanced over the living room. “Clean up this pigpen before Bobby comes home from school.”

Every thump of her steps hurrying down the stairs echoed through his head like a drum in a rock band. He tossed the empty beer can toward the trashcan by the computer desk. The can missed its mark by more than five feet, and the momentum of tossing it knocked him off balance.

He fell hard against the corner of the couch on the hip that metal and plastic had replaced after a piece of shrapnel had blown it apart. Cursing, he flipped over onto the seat and laid his head back. He squeezed his eyes shut. The white-hot pain searing through him reminded him of the flaming shards of metal and glass that tore through his men. Why the hell had he trusted the damned Afghani woman and her lies? He’d never be the man he was before he’d gotten his men killed.

He wasn’t drunk enough to kill the pain or drown the memories or the dreams. But neither Brenda nor his last mission drifted through the fog of booze when he passed out. Charli Monroe’s sexy orange toenails and the ghosts he’d seen swimming in her ocean-like eyes shimmered to life.

Chapter 2

The Longhorn Saloon was always crowded on Friday nights and tonight was no exception. The place tried to capture the flavor of the Old West, but mostly it reminded Dylan of every other honky-tonk he’d ever stepped foot in. Old sawdust and peanut shells covered the floor. The place smelled of stale liquor, sweat, smoke and fry grease.

As he pulled his old felt hat low over his forehead, he weaved his way past the mechanical bull and the jukebox. On the dance floor, an energetic group of locals and college kids were attempting to follow Ella Larson’s cowboy boots as she scooted and boogied across the worn hardwood to Brooks and Dunn.

He headed for his favorite corner booth to find two barely legal boys sitting there. He pinned the college kids with his best tough-guy scowl. They got up and left so fast they had to stop and go back for their beers.

After sliding into the booth, he didn’t have to wait long for Ella’s younger sister, Julie, to come forward with a bottle of his usual. He handed her his credit card to cover the tab.

He’d thrown back a couple shots of Jack Daniels when a group of college kids shoved into the booth across from him. From the wild look in one of the boy’s eyes, it had to be his first time in a bar.

Julie stopped by the table, checked their IDs and took their orders. He couldn’t help but overhear the blonde, pressed up close to the wide-eyed boy, telling Julie today was his twenty-first birthday. After several minutes of teasing by the other boy, and giggles from the two girls in the group, Julie went to the bar to put in their orders.

Their drinks arrived and they toasted Birthday Boy with more laughter.

He didn’t need this crap. Looking around, he found an empty spot at the bar and reached for his bottle.

Blondie next to Birthday Boy said, “Guess what Charli Monroe’s doing tonight.”

He slid a sideways glance at the table of kids, set the bottle down and stayed glued to the cracked vinyl.

The girl across from her laughed. “Oh, I can only imagine. She’s in my psych class. I bet she’s studying.”

“Yep.” Blondie played with the fruit balls in her prissy drink.

The boy beside the psychology girl lifted his beer and smirked. “She’s one hot number. I’ve thought about asking her out, but something about her is just strange.”

Psychology Girl, who looked too much like the boy sitting beside her to not be his sister, laughed. “I have to agree. She’s weird. I don’t think she even has any friends. She’s been at Colton College since the beginning of the semester, and I’ve never seen her hang out with anyone. No wonder she’s all the teachers’ pet. As if the way she dresses wouldn’t be enough to get their attention, she’s a damned brainiac, and rich.”

Dylan downed another shot of whiskey. His interview had been over a week ago. Charli Monroe hadn’t called. No surprise there. Tracy was hounding him again to crawl to Leon Ferguson for a job. Lucifer would sit on the left hand of God before that happened.

When two familiar couples came into view, he was pouring another shot. His hand shook as he set the bottle on the table with a bang. What was his ex doing in here? At the sight of the skinny geek, Nick Dailey, with Brenda, he gritted his teeth as fire spread up his neck.

He had hated the pencil-neck geek since meeting him at a Christmas party a month before he’d shipped out to Afghanistan. Brenda, an English teacher, had become best friends with the science teacher after he started working at Killeen High School.

Nicky
pulled out a chair. How long had his wife screwed around behind his back with her BFF before she ended up pregnant?

Brenda smiled up at her new husband before sitting. Nick took the chair next to her as Brenda’s sister and her husband sat across from them. A few minutes later, Julie came over to take their orders.

Once the waitress left, he slid out of the booth. Somewhere in the fog clouding his good sense, he knew he shouldn’t, but he was spoiling for a fight.

He half-limped, half-staggered to stand at the end of the square table.

Brenda’s dark eyes widened when she noticed him. “Dylan?”

“Forgotten me already, Brenda?”

Sitting across from Brenda, her brother-in-law scowled. “I think you should walk away now.”

“Howdy, Mike. Interesting that you have to stand up for your wife’s sister, while her new husband sits there scared shitless.” He nodded his head at the near replica of his ex-wife next to Mike. “Carrie.”

“Leave now,” Brenda growled.

“I’m crushed.” He put his hat on his head to free up his hands. “I wasn’t invited to the weddin’. I heard all about it, though. Gotta love the Colton Grapevine. Was it as nice as ours?”

She glared up at him. Her chest rose and fell in rapid breaths. “It was better, actually. The Country Club was remodeled since our wedding.”

“That’s something, I guess. Baby Geek doin’ okay?” he asked, referring to Brenda’s baby with Nick.

Brenda’s plump red lips twisted into a cold smile. “He’s doing exceptionally well,” she said a little too sweetly. “We figure he’ll make a great scholar someday. Strive for world peace, unlike the barbarians in your family.”

He let the jab go regarding the Quinns’ long military history, and moved around the table. He rested his palms on the table and leaned over them.

Nick pressed away, and his face lost most of its color.

“So,
Nicky
, how do you like sleeping in another man’s bed? Livin’ in another man’s house? Oh, wait, that’s right, you were makin’ a baby with
my
wife while I was in Afghanistan getting blown up.”

“Quinn.” Brenda’s brother-in-law stood, and Dylan straightened. Mike was taller by two inches, but he wasn’t worried. He easily out-bulked the man by twenty pounds. “If you don’t leave–”

Nick sprung from his chair. “If you want a piece of me, let’s go out to the parking lot and go at it.”

Brenda jumped to her feet and grabbed his arm. “Nick, don’t be ridiculous.”

Oh, how he wanted to punch this piss-ant into next week. He laid his hand on the other man’s shoulder. The action looked friendly, until Nick winced in pain when Dylan applied pressure in the right places. “I think you’d better just sit right back down there, geek. I’ve killed bugs bigger than you. I wouldn’t want the new baby to grow up without his papa.”

His sharp tone gained the attention of curious customers sitting close by. Nick’s face flushed, and he drew back his fist and let loose. Dylan saw it coming and nimbly dodged the sucker punch by grabbing the flailing arm. A heartbeat later, he had
Nicky
in a chokehold.

Brenda and her sister screamed, and Mike stepped closer. The bartender moved in with an old billy club in hand. “That’s enough, Quinn. Let him go.”

He looked over at the big man. “Aww, Sam, can’t a man have some fun?”

Sam Larson slapped the billy club on the palm of his hand with a loud smack. “I’m not tellin’ you again, Quinn. Let him go.”

He glanced around. Every eye was on him. “Fine.” But instead of letting go, he tightening his hold on Nick and said in the other man’s ear, “Just a word of advice,
Nicky
. Don’t get too comfortable in my house. If she cheated on me, how long do you think it will be before she throws you over?”

He let go of the gasping man, but Brenda grabbed Dylan’s arm. She stood before him toe-to-toe. He looked over the curves the tight jeans and snug T-shirt outlined. What the hell had he ever seen in her?

Brenda fisted her hands by her sides and stood with her feet apart. “I never set out to cheat on you.” Her voice pitched low, and her eyes flashed with rage. “But when I came to Fort Benning to see you off before you went to Afghanistan, you refused to even discuss us having a baby.” Brenda swallowed and glanced at Nick, who was rubbing his neck and watching them. “I wanted kids. I was thirty-four and got tired of waiting on you to deal with your screwed up issues with your father.” She returned to Nick and glared at Dylan over her shoulder. “Don’t ever come near us again, or I’ll press charges for harassment.”

He snorted in response, turned away and stepped right into the path of Zack Cartwright.

“Shit, this night just keeps gettin’ better,” he mumbled.

The sheriff stood with his feet apart, hands on his waist above his service belt and scowled at him. “What’s the problem here?”

He shrugged and glanced back at his ex-wife fawning over
Nicky
. “Nothin’, Sheriff. Just congratulatin’ the happy couple.”

“That so?” Cartwright continued to throw off big-bad-lawman vibes. “Let’s go, Captain.”

He dodged the sheriff’s hand before it landed on his upper arm. “You takin’ me to jail?”

“Not tonight. I’m taking you home. You aren’t in any shape to drive, but since you’re still on your feet, I’ll let Tracy deal with your sorry ass.”

As they headed to the exit, he said, “Geez, Zack, you and my sister seem to be getting quite cozy these days. You rekindlin’ those old flames?”

Zack stiffened and narrowed his eyes again. “You’re a comedian when you’re shitfaced, Quinn. Let’s go. I don’t have all night to deal with your bullshit. My daughter’s home with a sitter.”

* * * *

Charli sipped coffee from the Styrofoam cup she clutched, and stared at the beautiful house across the county road from where she’d parked. The afternoon sun rode high in the big clear sky and made the Italian single-story glow.

Spurred by a crazy impulse, she’d driven south to Killeen to Dylan Quinn’s second reference. Almost two weeks had passed since she’d met him. She never let anything interfere with her schoolwork, but she’d nearly flubbed her criminal sociology exam–which meant she almost got a B–because she couldn’t stop thinking about him. Even now, she should have been at the ranch unpacking. Instead, she’d left the moment the movers finished unloading the truck.

Whatever she’d been expecting, it hadn’t been the yellow stucco house. With its red tile roof and arched entry, oddly it didn’t seem out of place on a Central Texas ranch. In the background stood a barn painted the same buttery hue, and the metal roof was red to match the tile roof of the house.

She took another sip of the strong coffee. What inspired the house? The things she’d learned about Dylan Quinn since meeting him didn’t jive with this place. This builder understood design and craftsmanship. The man who’d built such a beautiful home for his wife hadn’t been the drunk Mrs. Pratt had told her was freeloading off his sister.

He glanced at her watch. Damn, she had to hurry. The last thing she wanted was to be late for her appointment with Leon Ferguson. After shifting her Lexus into gear, she pulled away, but not before taking one last look at the house.

On the long drive back to Colton, she tried to piece together what she knew about Dylan. Mrs. Pratt was totally against her having anything to do with him. The older woman was convinced Charli’s interest in him stemmed from her studying to become a social worker.

Her mind wasn’t on the drive and she nearly missed her turn onto Highway 6 as the GPS dinged at her. As she turned onto the northbound lane and headed back to Colton, her thoughts went back to Dylan.

There had to be a reason for a man, who had built a home for his wife and served his country for thirteen years, to fall so far.

What had happened to Dylan Quinn, and why the hell couldn’t she stop thinking about him?

She left Highway 6 and turned down Oak Springs Road. The same country road went past her ranch. She paused before turning and stared at the elaborate wrought-iron sign over the gate of Oak Springs Ranch. Heading down the long drive, she finally put thoughts of Dylan out of her mind.

She stopped the car and peered out at the antebellum-styled mansion. Manicured lawn surrounded the veranda. White Greek columns circled the house and held a second floor balcony.