Tucker's Crossing (19 page)

And he was still a goddamn Tucker.

Which was why he was going to have to keep distance when it came to her. Sex,
oh yeah
. Falling for her again, not going to happen.

No use in tempting fate.

Cody made his way down the hall and, outside of a very unfeminine yawn, Shelby was so exhausted she didn’t even stir. Pulling back the sheets on his mother’s bed, which was apparently where Shelby had been staying, he gently set her down.

Wanting her to sleep in perfect comfort, or so he told himself, Cody slowly slid off her pants and ever so expertly removed her bra before tucking her in. He was debating whether or not to slide in beside her and curve his body around hers when his phone vibrated in his pocket. Cody swore.

Stepping out of the room and closing the door, he quickly looked at the screen and answered. “Hey, Logan.”

Cody, keeping his voice low, made his way back to the family room, wanting to get enough distance so he didn’t wake Shelby. Also knowing that whatever information the sheriff had, he didn’t want her overhearing. Not until he knew for sure if she was somehow involved.

“The lab called back on the brush. We got a hit.” Logan sounded hesitant and Cody wondered what had come back from the lab that would have him hedging.

“That was fast.”

“Yeah, well, there was only one fingerprint on the whole thing.”

Cody clutched the phone, pressing it tighter to his ear. How could a brush that old only have one print? Unless someone had wiped it clean at some point. The idea that the print could belong to Shelby settled in the middle of his chest and grew in intensity.

“It belongs to Noah.”

“What?” As far as he knew his brother hadn’t been back to the ranch since the day he’d left for the navy. And he’d shipped off to boot camp two days after high school graduation.

If the brush had been covered with partial or smudged prints, Cody could have understood; both Noah and his mom would have touched it countless times over the years. But for it to be clean, all but for his brother’s print, made no sense.

Unless . . . what better way to ensure the Tuckers broke the terms of the will than to set brother against brother? It was common knowledge in Sweet Plains that taking on a Tucker was near impossible. Taking on all three was suicide.

“Cody. You still there?”

“Yeah.”

“You can tell me to go to hell, but I gotta ask.” Logan gentled his voice. “Are you and your brothers still close? I mean, does one have more to gain than the others?”

“Thanks for the info,” Cody told him coldly. “And you’re right, it’s none of your damn business.”

Cody disconnected, only to dial Noah immediately. His brother picked up on the fourth ring and snapped out, “Tucker.”

Cody could barely hear him. It sounded like Noah was standing in a wind tunnel with a small civil war going on behind him. His tone told Cody that he was, at the moment, on the losing end.

“It’s me,” Cody said.

“Only reason I answered.”

The mere sound of his brother’s voice created a pang of sadness. When they were younger, Cody, Noah, and Beau had been inseparable, three against the world. As adults, they were as close as siblings could get, even sensing, sometimes hundreds of miles away, when one or the other was in trouble.

The past few years they’d all been so busy with their careers—and running from the past—that they hadn’t seen much of one another.

“Would love to listen to you breathe into the phone some more, little brother,” Noah joked, knowing the nickname riled Cody. Although two years younger, Noah had a good three inches and thirty pounds on Cody. “But I’m in the middle of something here—” What sounded like a gunshot exploded in the background and echoed over the phone.

“Sorry,” Cody said, feeling the fool for calling his brother over something so insignificant. “I can call back.”

“No, hang on.”

There was a muffled sound, like the phone sliding around in a back pocket, the click of boots on concrete, a door opening, shutting, and then silence. “All right. I can hear you now. Shoot.”

Cody sank down on the edge of the couch, a feeling of gratitude washing over him. His brothers, for all their trouble, were as good as they came.

“I’m a daddy.”

Cody’s eyes flew open. He heard Noah stop breathing. That hadn’t been what he’d meant to say. He’d called to tell him about the breakins and the brush, to confess his suspicions about Shelby, settle on a plan of action.

“Is that so?” Noah’s voice changed instantly. “Does that mean I got me a niece or a nephew?”

“Nephew.” Cody swallowed, a small smile tugging at his heart. It felt good to talk to someone about JT. This was the first time he’d actually gotten to boast about his son, and the fact that it was with Noah made it all the more special.

“Name’s Jacob. Jacob Tucker. Goes by JT. He’s nine.”

Noah let out a low whistle. “Why did his mama wait so long to tell you?”

“Why do you think she didn’t tell me? Maybe I knew all along.”

“Because you would never walk away from your kid. No matter what.” Noah’s voice held a respect and confidence that made Cody’s eyes burn. “Not to mention you were born to be a daddy.”

“Right on the first account, but not so sure about the last,” Cody said, thinking back to his son’s face when he’d lit into Tommy. “Do you ever think that maybe . . .”

“That maybe we’ll end up mean sons of bitches like Dad?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe me, but not you, Cody,” Noah said firmly. “Look at how you took care of me and Beau. Always placing yourself between us and the old man. Then taking in Beau after—” Noah paused. So did Cody. The image of his kid brother, lying in a pool of blood in his mom’s room, roused in Cody an anger that he’d thought he’d come to terms with years ago.

“He’s talking about passing through Sweet Plains on his way to Jacksonville in a few weeks.”

“Beau?” Cody rested his forehead on the heel of his hand, frustrated. He thought about the problems at the ranch, Ms. Luella refusing to leave, Shelby picking out china patterns. “Shit. I need more time.”

“Well, you’ve got about three weeks. Need a hand?”

That was the last thing Cody needed. “Nope. Got it covered.”

“Anything changes, just let me know.” Noah cleared his throat. “Now, tell me why JT’s mom kept him from us?”

Cody loved how his brother already took ownership of JT being his nephew.

“A misunderstanding.”

“For nine years?” Noah stopped, suspicion and protectiveness leaching through his every word. “You sure he’s yours? Kind of suspicious how she shows up, out of the blue, with a kid bearing your name, right after Dad dies.”

“Oh, he’s mine,” Cody said, a hoarse laugh escaping. JT’s paternity was the only thing he was sure of in this crazy mess. “Looks just like me.”
All the way down to the fear in his eyes when he got a glimpse of who his daddy really was
.

“Then congratulations.” Noah’s tone translated into end of story. If Cody said the kid was his, in Noah’s mind that’s all there was to it. “So, besides looking for an excuse for me to buy the next round, why did you call?”

Cody smiled at how perceptive his brother was. “You ever come back to Sweet Plains?”

“Once. Three years ago. Why?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Cody half whispered, half accused.

“You were in the middle of the Larson deal and I didn’t want you to blow it by being distracted.” The Larson deal had taken Cody’s company from successful to a force to be reckoned with. It had made him not only wealthy, but one of the most respected and feared brokers in the natural resources sector. “Got a call from Dad’s nurse telling me I was the only offspring she could find.”

Cody had a bad feeling about the identity of that nurse. “What did she want?”

“Said Dad had liver cancer. Big shocker there. She was persistent, going on and on about family. I was afraid she’d find Beau, so I agreed to meet with her.”

“What was her name?”

“Hell, Cody. I don’t remember. I was just trying to keep it together being back in Sweet Plains.” Cody could almost see Noah running his hands through his hair. Noah wasn’t a big talker to begin with, but after their mom died and Silas’s wrath became as normal as church on Sunday, Noah turned inward, speaking only when he had to.

“What did she look like?”

“Five-two, maybe a hundred and ten pounds, brunette, unbelievably hot. Made me wonder how God could give a guy like Dad something so sweet to look at while dying.”

“Was her name Shelby?” Cody heard Noah suck a breath through his teeth. Confirmation was not a pleasant thing. “Did you touch anything she gave you?”

“What’s going on, Cody?”

Cody filled Noah in on the happenings around the ranch, sparing him no detail, even answering all of his questions about Shelby, Preston, and their past. Noah listened, mulled over the information, and lost it when Cody told him about the brush and bottle of Jack.

“Someone’s dead set on dividing and then screwing with us, and we need to know who. Give me a couple of days to do some digging, to see if I can figure out who gains if we walk.”

Cody stood and headed for the kitchen, stopping short when he glanced out the window.

“Well, I’ll be,” Cody barked, followed by a string of words his mama would have tanned his hide for using, one more colorful than the next.

Unbelievable.
Hundreds of gallons of water were shooting into the air with enough force to give Old Faithful a run for her money, raining down on everything meant to be dry and touching nothing that needed the moisture. And there in the middle of it all stood JT, looking like a wet hound dog, doing his damnedest to stop the fireworks caused by the exploded pipe.

Cody felt the beginnings of anger rise up and waited for it to take over, for his hands to fist and his face to heat, but it never came. One second he thought he’d lose it, the next he was laughing.

“Do I even want to know?” Noah asked.

“Just that any doubt about JT being mine is banished.” Cody suppressed a grin and explained the scene. “Only a Tucker could get himself into that kind of mess.”

“Like father, like son.”

He froze at Noah’s words. Suddenly they took on a whole new meaning, one that opened up in Cody the chance at some kind of happy ending. Because he wasn’t his old man and he could do this.

Cody was out the door with a promise to touch base in a couple of days. Feeling lighter than he had in years, he bounded down the steps, around the truck, and sidled up next to JT, careful not to let his amusement show. Because the look on his son’s face was one of sheer panic, which at any minute could easily turn into embarrassed tears.

Based on the amount of water—and mud—Cody estimated the geyser had been pumping for a good ten or fifteen minutes. Based on the amount of water—and mud—on JT, he suspected JT had somehow turned on the pump, blown the pipe, and had been trying to cover up the evidence ever since. Without much luck.

Remembering what it was like, wanting to be a man but being stuck in a kid’s body, and seeing the defeated way JT kicked at the mud, Cody wanted to pull his son into his arms and tell him he’d get there someday. Instead, he entered the pump house and shut off the power. The water slowed to a gurgling stop.

JT, now aware of Cody’s presence, spun to face him. His eyes were wide with surprise, and if Cody were being honest, a little fear. JT’s body tensed and his face shifted into an expression that Cody knew well: his son was ready to bolt.

“Hang on, partner.” Cody rooted JT’s feet with a single look, one that had served him well in the boardroom. “You’re not fixing to run off and leave me your mess now, are you?”

JT fidgeted with his hands and dropped his gaze to stare at his shoes, which were sunk so low in the mud only the laces and tongue showed. “No, sir.”

“Thought we got past that
sir
business.”

JT shrugged, not answering. But Cody noticed the lack of attitude in his body language. The kid was feeling downright low.

Cody did smile this time, pulled out his phone and dialed. “Hey, Bobby Joe, it’s Cody Tucker.” Cody paused to listen to the plumber’s greeting. “That cracked pipe you got a call on earlier. Yeah, well, it’s no longer cracked. The damn thing just up and broke on me.”

JT’s eyes flew to Cody’s at the omission of the person responsible for the gushing geyser. Cody flashed JT a wink, one he’d witnessed many times between fathers and sons when he was growing up, and wrapped up his call.

With the pipe busted he wouldn’t be able to determine with any amount of certainty if the crack was natural wear and tear or something a whole lot worse. But he found himself more concerned with how to handle this moment with JT.

Cody eyed the football gear on the porch and grinned. With a jerk of the chin, he suggested, “Why don’t you grab that football off the swing?”

JT did his best dying guppy impersonation, opening and closing his mouth so many times Cody was afraid his son would keel over before he ever got a word out.

“Figured we could play a game of mud ball,” Cody offered, loving the way his son’s eyes lit up and feeling his heart hitching a little over the fact that
he
had put that wonder there.

“You serious?”

“As a bullet.” And he was. Cody didn’t do small talk easily and he usually wasn’t comfortable around kids. None of the brothers was, which was why they never dated single moms. But there was something about JT that got to Cody. Maybe it was a DNA thing or maybe it was because the kid had as much attitude as Cody’d had growing up. But one thing was for certain, this kid had somehow burrowed his way into Cody’s heart.

“You saying I’m not in trouble?”

“You’ll have to help me clean up, but I figure the mess is already made—might as well enjoy it.”

“You gonna tell my mom?”

“I guess I’ll let you do that.”

JT kicked at the mud, splattering it a good three feet and speckling Cody’s pants. Obviously, facing Shelby was something of a worry.

“It’s just her face will scrunch up like she’s eating okra and she’ll call me by my first, middle,
and
last name.”