Stepbrother Breaks Bad: The Complete Series Page 11

  Didn’t matter how much he loved her. Didn’t matter if she loved him back. His instincts when he was a teenager were the right ones. They couldn’t be together. And not just because they were step siblings, but because they probably would never stop hurting each other until the day they died.

  The chief sipped at her coffee in the quiet of the car. “I told you that your connection to this case was too personal.”

  “Well, I’m guessing it’s not the first time you were right, chief.”

  “He’s a cool customer, your stepfather,” she allowed. “He knows he’s being watched and he hasn’t made one wrong move.”

  “Folks can be patient in these parts,” Colt explained. “They’ve been here for generations, and you’re just here for a few weeks. They’ll wait you out. If there’s anything the people of Shiloh are good at, it’s waiting.”

  The chief pondered. “You think maybe Shelby is out of danger, then? It’s been quiet. Given all the eyes I’ve got on the one road into this one horse town, I didn’t think there was any way to move explosives in or out without being noticed. But maybe Baker gave them back to the mob somehow and he and his daughter are in the clear.”

  “Maybe,” Colt said, his eyes trained on Shelby’s window, imagining he saw a glimpse of her. Wishing it didn’t make him long for more than a glimpse. “But Buford would have to haul those explosives through the mountains on foot. He’d need lackeys for that. Lackeys we maybe could break easier than his daughter.”

  The chief seemed to understand where he was going with this. “Got an idea of who those lackeys might be?”

  Colt’s hands tightened on the wheel, as he realized that he’d feel strangely guilty in giving up a name. He had no qualms about bringing down Buford Baker. Never did. But the rest of the folks in this town…well, he did feel a certain sympathy. And maybe it’s because of what Shelby had said to him about the choices and opportunities here in Shiloh, it was harder for him to judge those who turned to crime. “Yeah. I’ve got an idea. But if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to run it down myself.”

  The chief raised an eyebrow. “And entrust the safety of your girlfriend to the care of others?”

  “She’s not my girlfriend,” he said, more bitter about that fact than he thought he could possibly be.

  “Who do you want me to put on her? Agent Weller or Agent Campos?”

  Furious as he still was at Shelby, he wanted only the best for her, so he said, “I was wondering if you might be willing to watch over her yourself.”

  The chief snorted. “You remember that I’m your boss, right?”

  Colt flashed what he hoped was his most charming smile. “That’s why I’m asking.”

  “Don’t suck up.” Given the skeptical expression on the chief’s face, he was pretty sure his most charming smile wasn’t working. At least until she said, “Alright. I’ll keep eyes on her while you run this down. But you better come back with something more than dead bodies, this time.”

  The chief really did trust him, he thought. And it felt good.

  At least someone had faith in him, and he wasn’t about to fuck it up.

  An hour later, Colt pulled up at the gas station and cut the engine. Stepping out, he came face to face with Newman Pritchett.

  “Colton Marbray!” Newman said, wiping his hands on a rag.

  Colt stepped out of the car and the two men shook hands, then embraced, clapping each other on the back.

  Newman threw the rag over his shoulder. “How have you been, brother? Heard you was back in town from my Momma. Said you and Shelby Baker was having a row about green beans.”

  “Yeah,” Colt said, sarcastically. “It was about green beans.”

  Newman laughed. “Closing time’s a few hours off, but if you wanna come inside the garage, I’ve got a cold beer. Unless you’re just here for regular unleaded?”

  “Not here for gas,” Colt said, with a tight smile, feeling an anxiety of guilt in his belly. “But I’ll take that beer.”

  “Glad to hear it!” Newman lead Colt into the garage. “Because here I thought you forgot we was friends…”

  Newman said it with only the slight edge of resentment. The same edge that everybody in town seemed to have when it came to Colt’s leaving town all those years ago. As if he’d somehow died or been disloyal for trying to build a new life. Or maybe they were all as mad as Shelby that he’d left them behind.

  Colt crossed his arms. “How could I forget that we were friends? Baseball. Summers at the loading dock. Those were the days…”

  Newman pulled two cans from the mini-fridge behind some car that had the engine all taken apart. “You miss ‘em?”

  “Not really,” Colt said, accepting the beer and popping the tab. “On account of my stepfather making my home a living hell every day when I got back from school.”

  Newman shook his head and took a sip of beer. “You always did hold a grudge, Colt. Never could let a thing go.”

  “Now that ain’t quite fair,” Colt said, smirking. “I forgave you for banging my girlfriend, Junior year, didn’t I?”

  Newman chuckled. “You busted my nose, first.”

  “Well, that’s just how justice works,” Colt said, trying to fight off a smile.

  But Newman wasn’t smiling. “You never loved that girl anyhow. You only ever had eyes for Shelby. And if you’re still arguing about canned vegetables at the Quick-Shop I’d say not much has changed.”

  Cold shrugged. “Human nature. I reckon we don’t change all that much. You remember back in the day how my stepfather used to give us spending money now and again for running his errands?”

  Newman laughed. “And you was always too proud to take his money, even if it meant you had to work a double shift loading manure into truck beds, just so you had two rub two nickels together…”

  Colt set his untouched beer down next to some wrenches on the workbench. “But you were never too proud, were you, Newman?”

  His old high school chum’s eyes went a little narrow. “Pride goeth before the fall…”

  “Let’s stop pretending this has anything to pride. The plain truth of the matter is that Buford Baker always knew he had an errand boy in you. And I’m betting that ain’t changed.”

  Newman stiffened. “What are you getting at?”

  “I’m a lawman, now. You don’t expect me to come back into town and just look the other way, do you?”

  Newman slammed his beer can down with a slosh of foam. “I dunno what the hell you’re talking about.”

  “Relax,” Colt said, keeping his eyes just low enough to avoid being read. “We’re not after you. We’re—”

  Newman could move pretty quick when he wanted to, but he was no match for Colt, who saw the blow coming. And before Newman could even make the full arc of the swing, Colt ducked under the punch, caught Newman by the neck, and smashed his face into the countertop.

  After the thunk of his head, Newman cried, “Ow, goddamnit. You bastard!”

  Colt let Newman slump to the floor and stood over him. “Bet it hurts. Tough life you’ve chosen as a criminal underling, I know. But there are some perks to the job. For example, you could get away with assaulting a federal officer. You could get a sweet deal when you squawk on your boss.”

  “I’m not telling you shit,” Newman said, holding his bloody face. “No matter what you do to me.”

  “What is it you imagine I’m gonna do to you?” Colt asked, his hand itching to reach for his gun, but fighting the adrenaline down. “Maybe you think I’m gonna take this wrench and bust your knuckles if you don’t tell me what I want to know. Or maybe you think I’m gonna slam your head under the hood of this car. Or maybe you think I’m gonna stuff this beer can up where the sun don’t shine and shake you till the foam runneth over…”

  Newman paled, spitting out blood.

  And seeing that blood made Colton remember the day he’d had to shoot two men in Buford Baker’s bar. Two men whose lives he wouldn’t have had to end
if his stepfather wasn’t involved in criminal enterprise, and left his daughter vulnerable to it. That’s what made Colt’s blood run cold again, and put him back in the mindset he needed to be.

  Oh, to be sure, when Newman tried to rise, Colt kicked him back down again. “I didn’t tell you to get up. But unless you come at me, I’m not gonna put you in the hospital. That’s what your boss does.”

  “He ain’t my boss,” Newman said, spitting more blood and holding his nose. “Fuck! I think you broke it again.”

  “Like I said. Human nature. We tend to do the same shit over and over. So tell me that you’re not working for Buford. Because if you’re not, then you won’t mind the story he’s gonna hear about you.”

  “What story?” Newman asked, dragging himself along the floor to lean against the tire of the car he’d been working on.

  Colt finally took a swig of that beer. “Buford’s gonna hear a story about how you gave him up to federal agents and spilled all sorts of details about his business. It’s gonna come with photos, by the way. Across the street there, there’s an agent taking pictures of you and me sharing a beer. Buford’s gonna love that, don’t you think?”

  Newman’s glance flashed out across the street, then back to Colt. And then he trembled. “Look, I don’t know anything. I—”

  “Just tell me about the illegals. The ones he’s got working for him.”

  Newman snorted. “Are you high? Look around. There ain’t no illegals in Shiloh. Everybody knows everybody here back generations.”

  Colt rubbed the back of his neck, like he was thinking about it. “So you’re telling me there ain’t twelve illegals working at the chop shop.”

  “Heeellll no,” Newman said. “There ain’t any illegals within miles of there.”

  At which point Colt set down his beer, grabbed Newman by the collar and helped him up. “See? Now that was easy, wasn’t it?”

  “What was?” Newman said, confused and wiping blood from his face.

  “You. Fucking up like usual,” Colt said. “My boss wasn’t sure there was a chop shop. But you just confirmed it. And now you’re gonna show me where it is unless you wanna land your ass in jail for conspiracy.”

  Chapter Six

  SHELBY

  My father was pacing.

  He had been pacing, it seemed, since he got the call that federal officers had discovered a chop shop halfway hidden in an abandoned mine, the wreck of it scattered under a canopy of trees and cargo nets.

  Maybe they tripped over it, or maybe somebody squealed. I was just worried he’d think it was me. “They’ve got nothing,” my father insisted, at first, explaining how careful he was. There wouldn’t be any fingerprints there that could be traced back to my father. But we both knew there would be carcasses of stripped stolen vehicles, and with enough time, the feds could figure out which of the those cars could be matched with spare parts that I’d put up for sale on the internet at my father’s request.

  And if that wasn’t enough to convict him, it’d be enough to convict me.

  “Pack your bags,” my father finally said, storming into the back room to get the cash out of his safe. “Thanks to your stepbrother, we’re gonna have to run.”

  I’d been ready to run not long ago. I’d taken the money from this very same safe to do it. But now my guts twisted themselves into knots while contemplating leaving Shiloh and everybody in it forever. This town, where generations of my family had grown up, was my home. This town where, in spite of everything, I might’ve made a family of my own…

  My father thought that Colton Marbray was to blame. I, too, ought to have blamed Colt for this, and for everything, but instead, some other emotion took hold of me. And I faced down my father with tears brimming. “Don’t you dare put this on Colt. This is all you…and me.”

  With a grimace, my father looked away. “I told you to go pack.”

  “I’m not going,” I said, a lump rising on my throat. “I’m not gonna run. I’ve spent all my life being next to nothing here in Shiloh. I can’t be worse than nothing anywhere else.”

  Slamming a stack of money on the desk, he said, “It ain’t safe here, Shelby.”

  “Because they’re gonna put me in jail?” I asked, taking deep gulps of air as I considered my predicament. “Maybe. But it’s still gonna be better for me and the—for me to do the time and start over instead of living my whole life on the run.”

  My father’s jaw tightened. “I’m not talking about jail time, Shelby. I’m talking about retribution. The men who held a gun to your head. They’ll be back.”

  A new flood of fear surged through my veins, and I sank down into the chair by my father’s desk. Colt had warned me, but I hadn’t wanted to believe it. At least not until now. “But you said you took care of it.”

  That’s the moment that I saw, for the first time in my life, my big, strong, intimidating father close to tears. Rubbing at his stubbly cheeks, he turned bleak and watery eyes my way and confessed, “I tried, Shelby. Truly I did. I arranged for Barnetti’s crew to pick up the explosives at a drop point. The feds have got eyes on the road, so we had to haul it out through the mountains, one backpack at a time. Half of it was still hidden.”

  Where? That was the question that hovered on my astonished lips. But it was a question I knew better than to ask because if knowledge is power, it’s also vulnerability. “Then tell ‘em where it is, so they can come get the rest and this can be over!”

  My father’s bleak eyes went bleaker as he put his hands on his desk and forced himself to look at me. “Shelby, the rest of it was hidden in the mine at the chop shop. The feds have got it now. And given that the agent on the case is my own stepson, the mob will assuredly think I gave it to them.”

  Fuck. I realized in an instant that we were screwed. Totally screwed. If my father stayed in Shiloh township, serving beers instead of jail time, the mob would think he turned. If he went to jail on anything less than a maximum sentence, they’d think he turned. And if he disappeared, they’d think he turned and went into witness protection…

  Seeing that I finally understood the danger, my father snapped, “There’s no good outcome here, Shelby. If I’m a dead man either way, I’m gonna die on my feet, living on my own terms. And protecting my baby girl, best I can. So I’m running, and you’re running with me.”

  My mind was reeling. I couldn’t think what to do, so I moved by instinct to obey him. An instinct I’d been following all my life, until the moment I stood up to walk to the door. I got halfway there, actually, before I stopped and turned. “Daddy, I can’t. I just can’t…”

  “Why?” he demanded to know.

  I wasn’t sure I was going to have the courage to tell him the truth. Hell, I scarcely had the courage to admit it to myself. So I opted for a middle ground. “There’s a lady outside in a car watching us…she’s—”

  “You think I don’t know that?” my father asked. “She’s a federal agent. We’ve been under surveillance for days. I’ll take care of her, don’t you worry.”

  My heart raced, horrified to even have to ask. “How?”

  “You never mind, how. I know you’re just scared honey, but—”

  “I’m not just scared. I’m also pregnant,” I blurted, tears spilling over my lashes as my hand drifted down to my belly where I imagined I felt a bit of warmth and inner strength. And I’d need it. I’d need that inner strength to face my father in this moment, because I had a good idea how he’d react. Like he always reacted to the idea of any man touching me.

  In a blind, violent rage.

  And I braced myself as the blood from my father’s face drained completely away. “Pregnant?”

  My breath caught as I fought down the urge to flee. And I tried to make myself say the word again, but I couldn’t. All I could do was nod.

  Which was enough to send my father’s fist smashing down onto the desk. In his fury, he swept everything on it to the floor, including the phone and a stack of money that flew everywhere.
And the look of in his eyes terrified me. “Since when?”

  Swallowing over the lump in my throat, I pulled a little blue stick out of my back pocket, where it’d been burning a hole since this morning. “Since today,” I whispered.

  Maybe it was the fact that I couldn’t look straight at him that made him come out from behind his desk and grab me by both arms. Then he brought his face close to mine, his teeth grinding as he bit out, “Tell me you were forced.”

  Would that make it better, somehow? It made me bitter to think he’d actually prefer that. He’d rather that some man did something to me against my will than find out that his daughter gave up her virginity before marriage and was dumb enough to get pregnant doing it.

  Then my father snarled, “Tell me that Colton forced you, or blackmailed you like the disloyal dog that he is…”

  So he knew it was Colt. That was a shock. “How—”

  “Do you think a man like me don’t have cameras in here, Shelby?” he roared, shaking me so hard this time that my teeth rattled. “Remember that the next time you spread your legs like a whore on a pool table.”

  Oh, god. He knew about that? Worse, he’d seen that on film? Hot humiliation and horror washed through me, and I was sure that I was going to throw up. But there was one thing I couldn’t say. “Then you know he didn’t force me, Daddy.”

  My father turned bright red, and looked as nauseated as I felt. “I don’t know any such thing. Which is why, that night you disappeared for so long, I sent somebody on up to the house to make sure you weren’t being held there against your will.”

  A number of things clicked into place. The night Colt brought me back home, the night we broke up, someone went to his place and nearly came away with a shotgun load in his gut. “Oh, Jesus. You sent someone to break into Colt’s house?”