Blue Skies, Season 2, Episode 8 (Rising Storm) (5 page)

Celeste’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I think half the town knows. It’s next to impossible to keep a secret around here. Especially when Travis and Kristin are seen together all the time. They actually had the audacity to pass themselves off as a married couple at a resort in Bastrop.”

“How in the world did you find out about that?”

“Friend of a friend saw them there. Kristin told her they were celebrating their anniversary. I thought Travis was at a convention in Austin. Color me stupid.”

“Well, sadly, we’re not the first women to have been cheated on by the men in our lives. And we won’t be the last. But at least we’re doing something about it. That’s got to count for something. Right?”

“It counts for everything, Mom.” Brittany walked into the dining room and laid her hand on Payton’s shoulder.

“Brit, you scared me.” Payton flashed a smile at her daughter. “I didn’t hear you coming.”

“Stealth, Mom. It’s the name of the game.” Brit laughed, then sobered, her attention turning to Celeste. “I’m so sorry, Aunt Celeste. But if it helps any, I think you’re doing the right thing. Do Sara Jane and Lacey know?”

Celeste shook her head. “There hasn’t been time. I only just told Travis this morning.” She glanced down at her watch. “Heavens, it’s almost noon. I need to fix us some lunch.” She pushed to her feet then paused with a frown. “You won’t say anything? Either of you? I mean, until I’ve had the chance to talk to the girls.”

“Of course not.” Payton was quick to reassure, Brittany nodding her agreement.

The front door slammed open as Mallory, Jeffry, and Lacey spilled in.

“The three of you look like you’ve been up to something,” Payton observed with a smile.

“Well, not exactly,” Lacey said, fidgeting as she looked to her mom. “But I do have something to tell you. Only I don’t want to upset you.”

“I’ll be fine, honey. Whatever it is, we’ll handle it together.”

Lacey’s gaze searched her mother’s and then with a sigh she walked over to take her hands. “So Jeffry and I ran into Mallory on the driveway. She was coming to see us. To tell us something, I mean.”

“Lacey,” Celeste said, raising an eyebrow, the gesture so familiar that Payton wanted to cry. “Out with it.”

“Okay.” Lacey squeezed Celeste’s hands and Payton held her breath. “The thing is, Mallory thought we should know.” Lacey paused again, chewing on her lip as she watched her mother.

“Know what?” Celeste let out an exasperated sigh.

“About Ginny.” Lacey’s eyes lit with trepidation. “She’s in labor.”

* * * *

“I thought you were working today?” Logan said as his friend Marcus Alvarez strolled into the bar.

“I had a meeting with Ian, and then I had to pick up feed for Tucker, so I figured I might as well stop in here for some lunch.”

“Sure. The usual?” Marcus was nothing if not predictable. At least when it came to food. At his friend’s nod, he called the order through the window into the kitchen and then filled a glass with Shiner.

Marcus took the beer and had a long sip before wiping his mouth with his hand, a grin coasting across his face. “Much better. It’s hotter than Hades out there. Doesn’t feel like fall at all. Even for the Hill Country.”

Logan poured himself a glass and settled at the bar with his friend. “So everything all right with Brittany?” He asked the question cautiously. He hadn’t had the chance to talk to Marcus about the disastrous date with Delia Bruce. Or maybe he just hadn’t wanted to discuss it. But the disappointment in Ginny’s eyes would be branded on his heart forever. He felt as if he’d betrayed her, even though in truth, she was the one who’d screwed him over.

“Brit’s fine,” Marcus said. “But that’s not what you’re really asking, is it?”

“You’re going to make me say it?” Logan bit out, irritation making him sound gruff. Why the hell did this all have to be so hard? Give him a straight out firefight over trying to figure out the ins and outs of a damned relationship any day. At least in a fight he knew where he stood.

“Yeah, I kinda like the idea of you scrambling.”

“Fine. How is Ginny?”

“I don’t actually know firsthand.” Disappointment swept through him. God, this was ridiculous. “But,” Marcus lifted up a hand, “Brit talked to her. And if it matters at all, I think the two of them are friends again. Or at least they’re going to try. Brit’s forgiven Ginny for what happened with her dad.”

Logan tightened a fist thinking how much he’d enjoy plowing it right into the sanctimonious face of that son-of-a-bitch senator.

“My sentiments exactly,” Marcus nodded, his eyes on Logan’s fist. “But that isn’t going to help anything. Anyway, Brit told Ginny that it wasn’t a date. That we’d kinda roped you into it.”

“Kinda?” He ran his finger around the rim of his glass.

“Yeah, well, it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“It wasn’t a bad idea. I’m just not ready to date someone else. I don’t know that I ever will be.”

“Jesus, you really do have it bad.”

“I do. And I’m not sure what the hell I should do about it.”

“Not like you to take the coward’s way out.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Logan frowned.

“Just that it’s not like you not to face your troubles head on. Whatever is between you and Ginny, you’re not going to work it out until you at least face the woman and talk about it.”

“My sentiments exactly, Marcus.” Sonya Murphy walked over to the bar with his burger and fries. “I always knew you had good sense.”

“You always thought I got Logan in trouble.”

“Don’t be silly, son. I knew it was Logan all the time.” She smiled and headed back to the kitchen.

Marcus sobered. “I’m not wrong, you know.”

Logan stared down into the amber liquid in his glass. “I know. It’s just hard.”

“Nothing good is ever easy.” Marcus popped a french fry into his mouth as the door opened and Brittany rushed inside.

“Oh, thank God you’re here,” Brittany said, coming to a full stop in front of them. She was breathing hard, her hand to her chest.

“What’s wrong?” Marcus leapt out of his seat, reaching for her.

“Nothing. At least I don’t think so. But I thought Logan should know.”

“Know what?” Logan frowned, pulling to his feet, too.

“Ginny just went into labor.”

“But isn’t that early?” His heart started pounding, sweat breaking out on his forehead; if the baby didn’t make it, Ginny would never be the same. She loved her child. That much he was certain of.

“Babies come when they’re ready, I guess. Mallory said something about the senator. I think they had a fight.”

“That slimy bastard. Just wait until I get my hands on him.” Logan pushed away from the bar, anger crashing through him.

Marcus held out an arm, stopping his forward momentum. “Hold on a second. I know you’re pissed. And I don’t blame you. Hell, I’ll help you take the son of a bitch out. But right now, the important thing is Ginny.”

Logan ran a hand through his hair, his emotions threatening to unman him. “You’re right. Where is she? At the hospital?”

“Yeah, Marisol and Ian took her.”

Logan started to move again. “Then I need to get there. I need to be with her.” In his frantic haste, he almost collided with his brother coming through the door.

“Whoa, where’s the fire?” Dillon asked.

“It’s Ginny,” Logan said, feeling around in his pockets. “She’s in labor. Where the fuck are my keys?”

“Easy, dude,” Marcus said. “I’ll drive. You’re not in any state to do it.”

Logan nodded.

“Wait,” Dillon said, staring down at a text on his phone.

“What? Now you don’t want me to be with her?” Logan asked, his impatience making him want to deck his brother, but something in Dillon’s expression made him hold the thought.

“No.” Dillon shook his head, still reading. “I think you need to go now. But I think Brittany should take you.”

“Why wouldn’t I go with them?” Marcus asked, his brows drawing together in a frown.

“Because I just got a call for a domestic disturbance. At your house.”

Chapter 4

Dakota Alvarez jerked from sleep with a start, sitting up in her bed, trying to figure out what had awoken her. Sunlight slanted across the duvet and a glance through the window indicated that morning was waning, if not gone already. She’d stayed out way too late last night. Drinking in a nearby honky-tonk, trying to forget about the misery that was her life, at least a few hours.

A couple of guys had bought her beers, one of them wanting to take her home. But she’d had enough of men—at least for now. Unbidden thoughts of Patrick Murphy filled her head. He’d been flirting with her the other day at the Bluebonnet. She was certain of it. What she was less certain of was whether she wanted to do anything about it. Patrick wasn’t the kind of guy a girl had a fling with. And as close as he was with his family, he most definitely wasn’t going to be her ticket out of this town.

Then again, maybe she didn’t need a man to free her. Maybe she was capable of doing it herself. She glanced across the room at the letter lying on top of the desk. Her friend Amanda Graceson had written with an invitation to visit. Amanda been Dakota’s best friend when they were kids. Not so much as they’d grown older.  Dakota’s wild ways hadn’t exactly been in tune with Amanda’s more sedate way of doing things.

Actually, Amanda’s mother had held the firm belief that Alvarezes and Gracesons were not meant to comingle. The Gracesons only falling slightly lower on the social ladder than the Rushes.  Still, she and Amanda shared a past. And Amanda had an apartment in College Station where she attended college. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to consider a little time away.

Something in the next room shattered, and then the wall reverberated as something hit—hard.

Dakota frowned, jumping out of bed and dragging on a pair of jeans. A part of her wanted to run the other direction. Away from whatever her mother had done to upset her father. But another part of her, the part that had been through hell over the past months, felt a tiny frisson of something that might be concern.

Man, Patrick was getting to her in a big way.

Another crash was followed by what sounded like a sob.

Dakota squared her shoulders as she walked into the living room, but nothing she could have done could possibly have prepared her for what she found. The room was in shambles. Lamps overturned, a chair on its side—a hole in one of the walls. Her father was standing over her mother, his fist raised, his eyes wild. Her mother had her hands lifted, as if somehow she could ward off the blow.

The world seemed to switch to slow motion, her father’s fist slamming into her mother, her mother’s head whipping back with the force of the blow, her body hitting hard against the wall.

“Stupid bitch,” her father was saying. “That’ll teach you to whore around on me.” He kicked her hard, and suddenly anger cut through Dakota’s terror.

“Daddy, stop it. You’re really hurting her.”

Hector swung around, his gaze full of fire. “Get the hell out of here. This is between me and your mother.”

She froze, looking at her father’s angry face, and her mother sprawled on the floor against the wall. Patrick’s words at the diner echoed in her head.
Somewhere deep down you would definitely know it.
“Leave her alone, Daddy.”

“I’ll do with her as I please. She’s mine,” Hector snarled and this time Dakota was reminded of the senator—the night in his cabin when he’d taken her over a table.

With courage she hadn’t known she possessed, she stepped between her father and her mother. “I mean it, Daddy. Stand back.”

“Stupid little girl, get out of my way,” he said, his fist swinging before she even had time to realize what was happening.

The blow sent her reeling backward, her head slamming into the wall even as her face exploded with pain. The world wobbled and she blinked, trying to focus, her heart pounding as she looked up at her father. He didn’t even look sorry. Just angry and annoyed.

He reached for her again, his fingers clamping on her arms, jerking her upward. “You think you’re so high and mighty. But you’re no better than your mother—spreading your legs for any man who walks by. You’re both whores. And you deserve everything you’re going to get.” He shook her hard, her teeth rattling in her head, and Dakota had never in her life been so afraid.

He raised his hand—but the blow never came, her mother pushing herself between Dakota and Hector, her father’s fist slamming into her mother again as Joanne tried to protect her daughter.

Tears sprang to Dakota’s eyes as Joanne faced Hector. Not weak and useless but strong and brave. A mother defending her child.

“You leave Dakota out of this, Hector,” Joanne hissed, blood dripping from the corner of her mouth, her eye almost swollen shut. “This is between you and me.” She shifted slightly, drawing Hector away from Dakota. “Sweetie, I want you to leave.”

“No,” Dakota shook her head, frantically looking around her for some kind of weapon. “I’m not leaving without you.”

“Dakota, go.” Her mother’s voice was strained, but firm. And a part of Dakota wanted to obey, but before she could decide what to do, Hector lunged at Joanne, pulling a gun from behind his back.

“Daddy, no,” she screamed as he squeezed her mother’s throat and pointed the gun at Joanne’s head.

Behind her the door crashed open and Marcus threw himself across the room at his father. He hit him with a sickening thud, Joanne scrambling backward as she was thrown to the floor. Dakota watched terrified as the two men struggled for control of the gun, and then suddenly the sharp report of a gunshot filled the living room. Marcus fell backward, and Dakota heard somebody scream. Then her father had her mother in a chokehold again.

“Stand back,” he yelled. “I’ll kill her right here. Right now.”

Dakota made a move to go to her brother, but Hector shifted toward her, the muzzle of the gun leveled at her now. “Leave him be. He doesn’t deserve your concern. The sniveling bastard. Should have drowned him when he was a kid.”

“Daddy, please,” she said, her voice quaking so hard the words hardly came out at all. “Let Momma go. Put the gun down.”