Loving the Chase (Heart of the Storm #1) (4 page)

His mom’s house wasn’t big or fancy, but sitting in that room, he’d always felt like they were living large. There was a large flat-screen television on one side now, and a generous selection of movies to watch, but it was the quiet chaos of that room that Zach loved so much. Life happened there. He and Maddi had happened there. He could still remember her favorite place to curl up by the fireplace and look out the window, even when they were still kids. She and her brother had spent more time there than at their own house, and every room had memories of Maddi in it. But the family room—Zach’s mind traveled without even seeing it to a spot of carpet in front of one of the windows. That had been hers, right next to the fireplace. Where she’d always landed. It had also been the first place they’d ever done the deed, on one of the rare times no one was home.

And damn close to where she’d stood the last time he’d seen her. Until today. She’d been wearing white then, too. Covered in mud and bloodstains.

Maddi Hayes.
Shit.
He shook the memory free as he shoved the dip-laden chip into his mouth and walked around the corner and five sets of eyes turned his way.

“Sorry I’m late,” he mumbled around the food.

As expected, everyone started talking at one time. Including Cracker, his mother’s thirteen-year-old half-deaf beagle, who sprung up from his near-comatose state on the couch with a yip at the sound of another voice in the room.

“I could have been a serial killer,” Zach said to Cracker as the dog wagged his way over to him. He didn’t care. He was too busy sniffing Zach’s hand for remnants of the chip he smelled.

“Let me go fix you a bowl,” Lou said, rising and halfway to the kitchen before the sentence was all the way out of her mouth.

“I can get it, Mom,” he said. “Go finish eating.”

“Sit,” she said, already pulling a bowl from the cabinet.

“Zachariah,” said the beautifully coiffed, tiny ancient woman in the wheelchair and yoga outfit at the far end of the table. “Louella, can you bring me some more napkins while you’re in there?” she called out as she winked at him and crumbled cornbread into her small bowl of chili, her gnarled fingers sparkling with bling.

“Where’d you go today?” asked Hannah, although her full attention was on the cell phone she’d pulled from her lap the second their mom was out of sight, like she was fourteen instead of thirty. Phones weren’t allowed at the table during their weekly Thursday night suppers—it was their mother’s rule. One night a week to eat a meal together without interruption or distraction was all she asked. Given the smile that Hannah was trying to stifle, there was evidently a new man in the picture worth the risk.

“No place too important,” said Simon around a mouthful of buttered cornbread, his table manners in direct contrast to his starched shirt and slacks. He gestured to Zach’s feet. “The boots.”

Only Eli steadily kept eating his chili, methodically cutting his cornbread with his spoon every few bites. He wasn’t interested in why Zach was late, or how he was dressed, or whether or not anything was out of the ordinary. He just raised an eyebrow in greeting and focused on his meal as if it were the most fascinating thing he’d ever experienced. That’s what made him Eli.

Zach intercepted his mother’s steaming bowl of chili and plate of thick, buttered cornbread as she came in, and kissed her cheek.

“Thanks, Mom,” he said.

“I told you to sit,” she said. “Eat.”

“I’m working on it,” Zach said. “Cracker had things to talk about.”

She handed Annabelle a stack of napkins.

“I didn’t say a whole pack, Louella, I’m not that messy,” Annabelle said, setting the stack in front of her and plucking the top one off. “Can you pass me that salt, please?” she added. “Needs something.”

Zach watched his mother smile as she placated her mother-in-law. He eyed his grandmother as he kissed her cheek—who, at eighty-seven years old and shriveling into a raisin, still commanded a presence. He still wasn’t convinced she hadn’t poked her well-connected nose into things at the network. She’d been the only one he’d told about Nicole Brian’s phone call, and he’d regretted it almost instantly. Not that he didn’t love her fiercely, and not that she didn’t have a huge heart with lots of love to dole out in every possible way—but Annabelle Chase’s love frequently came with strings.

Hannah slid her phone back under the table as Zach leaned down and head-hugged her on his way around.

“Nice perfume,” she said, garnering an amused smirk from Eli. “So? You didn’t answer me.”

“No, I didn’t,” Zach said, sitting down with his food. “Mom said to eat.”

“Oh, don’t go putting that off on me,” Lou said, pointing her spoon at him and bringing a small grin to Eli’s normally pensive expression. “Nothing I do or say ever stopped you from speaking your mind before.”

Zach stirred his chili, letting the steam hit his face. “I met with a TV network in Dallas.”

And Eli’s attempt at a grin dissolved.

Even Simon looked up, interested. “What?”

Zach didn’t look Eli’s way, focusing on his mom instead. Her eyebrows were lifted in curiosity. Curious was better than what he knew lived on Eli’s side of the table.

“The Infinity Network wants to do a reality show with us,” Zach said, spooning a mouthful of chili into his mouth so he’d have a reason to not speak for a few long, drawn-out seconds.

“Are you serious?” Simon asked.

“Afraid so,” Zach said.

“I don’t know if I—” Simon began, the wheels turning behind his blue eyes. “If I can,” he continued. “I mean, I’m under contract with Channel Four.”

“Is that a conflict?” Zach asked.

“I have no idea,” Simon said, sitting back. “I’m on my way in to work tonight, I’ll talk to—”

“Don’t talk to anybody just yet,” Elijah said, his voice landing on the table like the fist of doom. “Did you sign anything?” he asked, his eyes drilling into Zach. The scar that curved from Eli’s forehead to just between his eyes made him look more menacing when he was angry.

“Not
just yet
,” Zach said, the usual irritant working under his skin when it came to Eli and his control-freak personality. “They need all our signatures. But I told them we would go over all the details.” Zach pulled a tightly folded-up packet of paper from his jeans pocket and tossed it onto the middle of the table. “And that we’d take a couple of them on a ride-along the next time out.”

“Absolutely not,” Eli said.

“That part I didn’t need your permission for, bro,” Zach said. “They’ll sign the waivers, don’t worry.”

“It’s not them I’m worried about,” Eli said, dropping his spoon loudly against the stoneware bowl. “It’s us when they get in the way.”

“They won’t get in the way.”

“You don’t—” Eli stopped and leaned his head back, eyes closed, hands moving up his face into his short dark hair. He let a few beats pass, probably counting backwards in his head to calm down. “You don’t know that, Zach,” he continued. “You don’t know that and you don’t think that far ahead to see that possibility. All you see is glamour.”

“No, actually what I see is notoriety, Eli,” Zach said, forcing himself to remain neutral and calm and take another spoonful of chili. Damn, he wished he’d recorded his spiel to Woodbriar. “Recognition, sponsors, money. Expanding the business.”

“We aren’t there for that,” Eli said. “Dad always said that if we could save one life—”

“—by what we do, then it’s worth it, yes, I know,” Zach finished. “And how much more could we do that if we were on TV reaching thousands of people? How many more could learn from Simon’s forecasting? From your tips on riding out a tornado? Think about it!”

Eli got up, scraping his chair back. “Don’t play me that you’re interested in safety. You want the spotlight.”

“I want a vehicle that can be hit by a tree and keep on ticking,” Zach threw back.

“And there you go,” Eli said. He bent down to kiss Lou’s head, as if that act would keep him from strangling Zach. “You want flashing lights and a sexy TV image. Buffed-out cars with sponsor names all over them—” He looked up, meeting Zach’s eyes. “Is there a woman in this deal?”

Zach’s jaw tightened, thinking about Maddi. But no, she wasn’t part of the deal. She wasn’t part of anything, so there was no reason to bring her up.

“Yes, actually,” he said, deciding on a different tack. “Her name is Gran.”

All eyes moved to the far end of the table, where his grandmother looked up from her now unappealing-looking slop of cornbread and chili in surprise. Or was it really surprise? Her eyes glittered behind all those wrinkles. She might look like a sweet little old lady with pink lipstick and manicured fingernails, but Zach knew the savvy mind that still ran like a well-oiled machine.

“Granabelle is behind it?” Hannah asked.

“No, Granabelle is not,” Gran answered, her gaze zeroing in on Zach. “Don’t go to lying about me, Zachariah. I’ll cross your name out of my will and leave your portion to that dog over there.”

As charming as her weekly tendency was to threaten to change her will with her nail color, Zach wasn’t quite buying the act today. “Maybe not,” he said, not breaking eye contact with her. “But you’re behind everything else.” Zach leaned forward and focused back on Eli. “And they were hell-bent on pointing that out. Wouldn’t it be nice to have our own funding?”

“Oh, so today you don’t like my money?” Gran said on a laugh. “Always funny how that changes with the tide.”

Annabelle Chase was a card. She grew up poor but business savvy in an age when that wasn’t ladylike. So she did the next best thing. Told her husband what to do, and together they amassed a small fortune. Their son, Josiah, may not have wanted any part of it, choosing to live his life outside the box and outside their reach, but his death had changed things.

Whether that was good or bad—that depended on who was talking.

“Your grandmother has her reasons for putting her money into your work,” Lou said, bringing all eyes back her direction. “Am I right, Annabelle?”

“Oh, I’m actually included in this conversation?” Gran said, wiping her mouth daintily with her napkin. “I was thinking maybe I’d died when I wasn’t paying attention and that’s why this food had no taste.”

“You’re always welcome to have your driver bring you to Luby’s instead,” Zach’s mom said sweetly.

Simon chuckled under his breath and Hannah sighed. Zach just shook his head, the battle of wills between the two women as predictable as the sun. Normally, that was okay. Today, he had little patience for it.

“I love you, Gran,” Zach said, meeting her eyes and not quite sure what game she was playing. She knew about the offer. Was she trying to play it out as innocent in front of the others? “I love that you help us keep Dad’s legacy alive. And I think this show would take that even further. As far as your funding, I would like to know that we aren’t solely dependent on it.”

“
You
wouldn’t be dependent on it,” Eli said. “
We
all have paying jobs, little brother. You get to go fishing and build deer stands when you’re not chasing.”

Zach felt his muscles twitch. “Build deer stands? Really?”

“Hey, that’s the last thing I saw you make; was there something else?” Eli asked. “A mailbox post, maybe?”

“Elijah.” Lou’s voice cut through the air.

“What do you have against progress,
big
brother?” Zach asked, ignoring the insults. “Why are you so dead set on us staying small-time?”

Eli shook his head. “We aren’t race-car drivers, Zach. We spot storms. We report storms. We gather data that hopefully saves lives. We don’t parade around on television like show ponies.”

“What kind of money are we talking?” Hannah said, glaring back when Eli stared her down. “What? I think it sounds cool. I mean, we’re out there doing it anyway, what’s wrong with putting it on TV?”

“Whatever,” Eli said, heading to the kitchen to wash his dishes. “Move, dog,” he muttered from around the corner, as Cracker was likely lying in wait for a handout.

Zach sat back and listened to his own breath going in and out. Eli was so damn condescending and patronizing, it made his blood run hot. Always knowing what everyone else was supposed to do and damn well being the one to tell them.

“The contract would be for a pilot and three episodes, Hannah,” Zach said quietly, rolling the edge of his napkin between his thumb and finger. “After that, it’s up to how well it’s received. And we didn’t talk money yet.”

“Wouldn’t that be the first thing you’d talk about?” she asked, kicking back and pulling one knee up in her chair.

“Not until God in there gives his blessing,” Zach said, gesturing toward the kitchen with a jerk of his head. He blew out a breath and tried to shake it off. “Or maybe after the ride-along, they’ll be more anxious to sign us and get a little looser with the information.”

“What kind of ride-along?” Simon said, who’d been listening to everything with a quiet introspection. “Who’d be coming?”

“An associate producer and a cameraman.”

“I’m sorry, who?” Hannah asked, her foot thudding back on the floor.

“They’ll stay out of your way,” Zach said, expecting that.

“Quinn and I aren’t filming?” she asked. “Oh, no no no—”

“Hannah, they have to get their own feel for it,” Zach said. “Think of reality shows you’ve watched. Do you think they’re going to let you just submit your own footage? I mean, come on.”

“Then what am I doing in this show?” she asked. “Braiding Quinn’s hair?”

“You do what you always do, and they film you doing it.” She sat back in her chair and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, eyebrows dipped in consternation. Zach knew he was teetering on losing her vote as well, but he couldn’t spin it. “They’d call the show
The Chase
,” he said, hoping to sound nonchalant about it.

“Oh,” said Gran softly, a little smile on her lips. “I love that.”

Simon nodded, looking semi-impressed with that. Hannah continued chewing her lip, playing with her cornbread.

“Hmm,” she said.

Not a ringing endorsement, but not a screaming no, either.