The Bribe (Calamity Montana)
The Bribe: Chapter 14

I HUMMED as I drove down First Street.

In Nashville, I hummed constantly. I’d hum a song stuck in my head. I’d hum a song I was trying to write. I’d hum to the radio.

Then I stopped.

As a habit, it should have been something I had to force myself to stop doing. But it had taken no effort. No conscious thought to not hum. The music had just been . . . gone.

It was returning again. Slowly. And there was no question that part of the reason was Duke. If he hadn’t come into my life, the music might have been silenced forever. But I was falling for him, a little bit more each day. Those emotions, the beginning of what felt a lot like love, were healing a lot of wounds.

So I kept humming, smiling as the music purred from my throat, as I eased the Rover into a parking space near one of the banks downtown. The sidewalk was shaded by a tall cottonwood, the limbs still green even though autumn was chasing the summer heat away.

Fall was going to be spectacular in Calamity, an orange and yellow and evergreen kaleidoscope. If we had more chilly temperatures after dark, the leaves would soon turn. Last night had felt especially cold, though that was likely because I’d spent most of it alone in Duke’s bed, curled under the covers, missing his body heat.

After I’d dressed and packed a bag for a couple nights’ stay, he’d led me downstairs and past the wreck in my living room. I’d wanted to gawk and linger and mourn my broken window, but Duke had kept a firm grip on my elbow, not slowing a beat as he walked me out the door. But even with only a quick glance, the destruction was fresh in my mind.

It was just glass. I’d been telling myself all night and all morning that it was just glass. One broken window and a rock on the floor. Except it was familiar. The broken window was an attack on my sanctuary, like my stalker’s texts on my phone. The letters in my mailbox. The emails that had made me fear the ding of an incoming message.

The stalker had never damaged my property though. That was probably the reason I hadn’t freaked out. I could compartmentalize the events in Nashville as something entirely different from some shattered glass.

The reason I’d spent most of the night awake had been less about fear and more about worry.

For Duke.

He hadn’t admitted it was Travis who’d thrown that rock, but as far as I knew, no one else in Calamity hated Jade Morgan.

Why did Travis dislike me so much? Duke hadn’t dated his mother in years. Maybe Melanie and Duke had been more serious than Duke let on and I was missing a piece of the puzzle. Did Travis actually think coming after me would drive Duke back into his mother’s arms?

Complicated creatures, teenage boys.

When Duke had finally come home after four this morning, he’d collapsed into bed and wrapped me up tight. Wordlessly, we’d both drifted off to sleep. Then this morning, he’d snuck out.

He’d gotten up, showered and dressed for work while I’d slept through the whole routine. The sun had been streaming through the bedroom window by the time I’d finally forced myself out of bed. In the kitchen, I’d found a note beside the coffeepot.

Went to work. Call me when you wake up.

We hadn’t talked long when I’d called because I could tell there were people around him. He’d told me that a deputy was at my house cleaning up the glass. His friend Kase was heading to the farmhouse later today to get measurements for a replacement and board up the hole with a piece of plywood. Duke had rattled off logistics, then asked me not to go home until we could go together.

I’d agreed, something I would have protested had I been properly caffeinated.

Five hours later, his laundry was done, his kitchen was clean, and I hadn’t heard a word about Travis. Rather than sit and spin myself into a tizzy, I’d decided to brave First Street to kill an hour or two. Maybe an afternoon of window shopping would settle my nerves.

And keep me from calling Everly.

My fingers itched to dial her number on my new phone. But we were both holding to the agreement. I hadn’t called or texted in two weeks. Whenever I reached for my phone, I’d slap my own hand as a reminder that emails and calls were off-limits.

Was she okay? God, I wanted to know. She hadn’t contacted Duke, which meant there weren’t any emergencies, but she was also incredibly stubborn. And our definitions of what constituted an emergency were on opposite ends of the severity spectrum.

Be okay. I sent up the silent wish, then got out of the Rover to walk off my anxiety.

I was wearing Duke’s green ball cap, the same hat that he’d worn when we’d met in Yellowstone. I’d stolen it from his house this morning and wasn’t planning on giving it back. It was mine now. Along with the man. Along with this town.

Calamity was mine, and it was time to stop hiding. Maybe someone would recognize me. Maybe not. But if they did, Duke and I would deal. Together.

There’d been such relief on his face yesterday when I’d assured him that I was staying.

His fears had been justified. I hadn’t made it abundantly clear that I wasn’t going back to being Lucy Ross, country music superstar. Because there’d been a part of me, deep down, that hadn’t been wholly ready to say farewell to my former life. The small part that loved the music almost enough to deal with the gruesome politics and the label’s bullshit and the endless rehearsals and the ruthless media and the crazed stalker.

But yesterday in the living room, when Duke had spoken with a goodbye in his voice, I’d known I was done.

I’d satisfy my love of music another way, even if that meant writing songs to sing on my patio for no one other than myself. Nashville was history.

I chose Calamity.

I chose Duke.

Eventually, we’d have to make some decisions. Who was I going to be? What color did I want my hair? Could I stay in hiding forever?

Realistically, I knew the answer was no. But I pushed those worries aside and continued my stroll. My problems would wait until I was ready to solve them.

Downtown was quiet today. There were fewer tourists and more empty parking spaces. My footsteps were unhurried as I walked, smiling at shop clerks through their front windows. The baristas in the coffee shop weren’t scrambling to make lattes, instead laughing with one another as most of the tables sat empty. The neighboring jewelry store had left their door open and a dog lay in the threshold, napping. And for the first time, the small art gallery wasn’t swarmed with people.

The featured painting in the window display lured me inside. It was of a buffalo, the oil paint done in chunky, bright strokes on the canvas. The reds and oranges and blues and browns were so striking, my eye wasn’t sure which color to love first.

Before Yellowstone, I would have purchased it immediately. Now, it was a firm maybe.

“Hello,” the receptionist greeted, adjusting the rim of her black-framed glasses as I stepped inside the gallery. “Is there anything I can help you find?”

“No, thank you. I’m just browsing.” I smiled, my eyes struggling to make contact because they were so drawn to the paintings on display.

There were animals—a wolf, a deer, a rainbow trout—spaced between stunning landscapes. I walked slowly along the walls, taking it all in, but stopped when I came to the one and only portrait on display. A painting of a girl.

The style of the piece was the same as the others, chunky paint dried thick on the canvas in bold, rough strokes. This must be an artist’s personal gallery because all of the paintings were signed with the same black smudge in the lower right corner.

But this girl was different from the animals. The colors were muted with the exception of her eyes. They were so brilliant, so vivid a deep blue, that violet tinted her irises. Pale hair framed her face, its color white and shimmery like beams of the morning sun.

It was an eye-catching piece. Breathtaking and heartbreaking. The girl wasn’t smiling. She wasn’t frowning. Her expression, like most of the colors, was blank. She looked . . . lonely. I wanted to reach past the paint and give her a hug.

I turned to the receptionist. “How much—”

“It’s not for sale.” A man appeared at my side, reaching past me to tap the small golden placard underneath the portrait I hadn’t noticed.

Display Only. Not For Sale.

“Oh. Sorry.” I took a step away, feeling like I’d intruded on his personal space. “I didn’t notice.”

He studied me in a way that made me feel like my face would be on the next canvas.

Was this the artist? It had to be. He had that tortured, brooding vibe rolling off his broad shoulders.

He was handsome. Not Duke-level hot, but definitely attractive with a tall and strong physique. His eyes were a deep blue and his sandy-blond hair was buzzed short. The sleeves of his Henley were pushed up to his elbows, revealing a tattoo on his left forearm that was nearly as colorful as his artwork. He’d be a lot more good-looking if he lost the scowl.

Maybe he thought I was a tourist. Maybe he’d lighten up if he realized I was a resident too.

“Hi.” I held out my hand. “I’m Jade Morgan.”

His eyes flicked to my hand, but his arms stayed firmly crossed over his chest.

Jerk.

“Sorry, Hux.” The receptionist appeared with a panic-laced smile, stepping between me and the man. She waved, motioning me to step away with her.

Their customer service could use some improvement. If that painting was so precious and guarded, why have it hanging for the world to see? I’d buy my art online. I spun around, ready to leave, and ran into a solid wall of man.

A familiar wall.

Duke’s arms steadied me. I relaxed. He must have gone home and found me missing, then spotted my car on First.

“What are you doing here?” he asked at the same time he moved me to his side and away from the receptionist and angry artist. He’d asked a question but wasn’t waiting for an answer.

“What do you want, Evans?” Hux barked.

I looked between the men, who glared at one another.

The receptionist ducked her head and muttered, “Excuse me,” before disappearing.

I inched away, ready to follow. “I was just doing some window shopping. But we can go.”

Duke’s attention was locked on Hux and he didn’t make a move.

Ah. He wasn’t here for me.

“Stay,” he commanded. “This involves you too.”

“It does?”

Duke nodded but spoke to Hux. “Last night, your daughter threw a rock through Jade’s window.”

Daughter? I thought it had been Travis.

Hux’s jaw ticked. “Do you have proof?”

“Prints on the rock she used. An eyewitness—me—who saw her riding off on a dirt bike. And her confession.”

“Fuck.” Hux ran a hand over his short hair. Hair just a shade darker than the paintings. She had to be his daughter.

Why would his kid come to my house? Why would she vandalize my property? I swallowed my questions, sensing that I was here strictly to observe.

“How much trouble is she in?” Hux asked, letting some genuine concern slip into that cold front.

“That’s up to Jade,” Duke said.

Hux’s eyes snapped to me and the glare was gone. In its place was a pleading look. “I’ll pay. I’ll get the window replaced. Kase’ll do it.”

“He’s already got a new one ordered,” Duke said.

“I’ll call him. Get him to send me the bill. We’ll get the window replaced and forget it. Okay?”

“Uh . . . okay?” Was I supposed to agree? Or protest? I looked to Duke but he was no help. We’d have to talk later about him clueing me in before the confrontation.

Duke blew out a long breath. “She’s getting desperate, Hux. She wants out of that house and thinks if she gets hauled into the station enough times, I can make it happen. But there’s only so much I can do. Only so many times I can cut her a break. She pushes me too far, then I have no choice but to talk to the county attorney and she’s going to end up in juvie. Call your daughter. Be the father she fucking needs. And get her out of that goddamn house.”

I was getting whiplash looking between the two men. What house? What was happening?

“No one’s going to give her to me.” Hux spoke through gritted teeth. “I tried. For years. Remember?”

“Yeah, I remember. And I remember you giving up.”

“I can’t win this one.” There was a hopelessness to Hux’s words. “No matter what I do, it won’t be enough.”

Before Duke could speak, Hux turned and disappeared down a hallway I hadn’t noticed.

“Damn it,” Duke muttered before taking my elbow and steering me away. He jerked his chin at the receptionist as he escorted me out the door. It was only after we were in the sunshine and the door’s chime had faded behind us that his stiff posture relaxed. “Fuck.”

“Okay, Sheriff.” I put my hands on my hips. “What is going on? Who is that?”

“That is Reese Huxley. His daughter, Savannah, is the same age as Travis. She’s one of the kids I don’t want him hanging around.”

“Because she throws rocks through people’s windows.”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Among other things.”

“What other things? What does she do?”

“It’s more like, what doesn’t she do? She hangs out with older guys who buy her beer. She rides a dirt bike around town even though it’s not street legal. I’d bet a year’s salary she was the one who gave Travis the vape pen. Spray-painting trees. Out past curfew. Whenever I’ve got trouble with a group of teenagers, she’s in the thick of it. And it’s all to get Reese’s attention.”

“Why?”

“It’s a long story. But the short of it is, her mom is worthless, and her stepdad is a rotten piece of shit.”

So that was the house she wanted out of. Her own home.

“Come on.” Duke snatched my hand, leading me past the edge of the gallery so we weren’t in view of the receptionist inside. “April is Savannah’s mother. She and Hux grew up around here and from what people have told me, they were just kids when they got together. Got married right after high school. Both worked minimum wage jobs. Hux got into some trouble gambling, trying to make some extra cash. Cheated and got caught. The guy he cheated came after him and the two got in a fight. Hux beat the hell out of him. Put the other guy in a coma. The judge didn’t like Hux, said it was beyond self-defense and sent him to prison for two years.”

I blinked. “Wow.” The man inside had been intimidating but I wouldn’t have pegged him as an ex-convict.

“April didn’t even tell him she’d had his kid. He came home, on parole, and hadn’t heard from her except for the divorce papers she’d served him while he was inside. I’m not sure how he didn’t hear about it, but I guess he didn’t have contact with many while he was in prison. He came home and learned he was a dad.”

I glanced at the window to the gallery, to the beautiful bison behind the glass, and my heart squeezed for Reese Huxley. For his daughter too, even though she’d vandalized my home.

She’d been crying for help.

“So she threw a rock through my window because . . .”

“Because my truck was parked out front. She knew it would take me all of five seconds to realize it was her. When I pulled up to her house last night, she was on the dirt bike, just waiting for me to haul her in. Because the fucking hell of it is, jail is better than home.”

“What’s wrong with her home?”

“April is . . . well, she’s a bitch.” He raked a hand through his hair. “You can’t believe a word that comes out of her mouth. If she can step on you to gain something, she won’t think twice. And after Hux, she married a lawyer in town. Wanted the money and the prestige. The guy’s a monster. Beats the hell out of April behind closed doors and they both get off on it. Has Savannah trapped there while he’s doing it too.”

“Does he hit Savannah too?”

“I don’t know. If he does, she won’t admit it. I’ve asked her about a hundred times. Hell, I even made Travis ask her, hoping she’d confide in him, but she just clams up.”

My stomach twisted because we both knew the answer. “Can’t Hux get custody?”

“He tried. When he came back from prison, he tried. April’s husband might be garbage, but he’s a damn good lawyer. And Hux is an ex-con. He doesn’t even get visitation with Savannah.”

“That doesn’t seem right.”

“It’s not.” Duke shook his head. “She’ll run away from home and show up on Hux’s doorstep. April will call the station and I’ll have no choice but to take Savannah home. She screams and cries the entire way.”

“Oh my God.”

“Hux finally just gave up, which pisses me right the fuck off. But I get it. You get kicked enough, have your heart broken enough, you put up walls around yourself. Savannah’s not the only one screaming and crying when I have to take her away.”

My heart broke for all of them.

It was so incredibly unfair that bad parents were allowed to keep their children.

“I don’t want to make things worse for her,” I said. “If she was acting out, grasping for something, I don’t care about the window.”

“I figured you’d say that.” He touched the brim of my hat, giving me a sad smile. “I called Kerrigan and she said that as long as you don’t want to press charges, she only wants the window fixed.”

“Okay, good.” I stepped in closer, wrapping my arms around his waist. Duke leaned into me instantly and I was happy to shoulder some of his weight. “How are you?”

“Wiped.” His face was covered in stubble because he hadn’t shaved this morning and his eyelids looked heavy.

“I have a confession. This was not the story I expected you to tell. I thought it was Travis who broke the window.”

“No. Thank fuck.” He chuckled. “I would have had to strangle him.”

“I’m glad it wasn’t.” Maybe there was hope that Travis didn’t completely hate me. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Keep me company for the rest of the day.”

“You’re in luck,” I said, letting him go. “I happen to have a wide-open schedule today. And tomorrow. And the day after. Should I follow you to the station?”

“Actually, I’m headed out on patrol. Needed to get out of the station for a while. Feel like doing a ride along? Though I’ll warn you, it’ll probably be boring.”

If that was all I could do today, just take his mind off things and stick close, I’d call it a win.

I wagged my eyebrows. “I don’t mind boring. Especially if you let me hold your radar gun.”

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