Wrong then Right (A Love Happens Novel Book 2) (30 page)

And he wondered just who the hell was doing the protecting in this relationship.

“Nancy boy might fall for your sweet talk,” Ash interjected, “but I won’t. You’re not going in there alone, Hope. And you’re gonna let me do all the talking.”

“Screw that,” Beck snapped. “If he goes in, I go in. And I’ll let my fists do the talking.”

“Neither of you are going in and I’ve had it up to here with bossy men.” Hope slashed a hand sharply across her neck. “Now, why don’t you two take your pissing contest elsewhere and leave me to my business?”

Beck flashed her a grin. It was impressive to see anyone stand up to Ash, but watching this gorgeous spitfire do it was damn entertaining. Ash didn’t think so, his untouchable demeanor in high gear, but he turned away with a shake of his head.

“Fifteen minutes is all I need, Beck.” She looked at him earnestly. “Long enough to speak my piece, then we’ll go. My shift starts in an hour.”

“You have ten,” Beck countered, looking at his watch. “One second more and I’m coming in, no matter who stands in my way.” And heaven help the man on the other side of that door.

He watched her disappear into the room, then turned toward Ash, who paced the length of the corridor, eyes scanning as much of the house as he could without leaving the foyer.

“She walks out of there with a smile on her face or it’s gonna get bloody.”

Ash ran a palm down his face. “Sam can bail us both out of jail, then.”

“So, you must be Hope’s young man?” Rosa asked, reaching for his hand. She wrapped both of hers around his and he felt the motherly touch. Beck hadn’t thought of himself as young since he’d switched from tee ball to fast pitch.

“Hell no, he’s not her young man,” Ash announced harshly. “He’s not her damn anything.”

“Don’t you start with that nasty cursing habit in my presence, mijo,” she admonished, a grin softening the order. “And you’ve got no reason to be nosing around this house, either. Looking for people that aren’t your business, anymore,” she groused sternly. “There’s nobody for you to see here, Mr. Coleson.”

“I’m not welcome in my childhood home?” he asked defiantly, pausing mid pace.

“Seeing as you own the place, I’m guessing you’re welcome to come and go as you please. And you’re real good at the going part, aren’t you?”

Ash’s jaw locked, but he said nothing and she shook her head disapprovingly.

“Don’t you think you’ve done enough damage to that girl, Asher?” Rosa’s voice was gentle even as she disciplined him. “Took months for her to recover and I won’t stand by and watch you hurt her again. She’s finally healed. She’s a good girl. She has a good life, now.”

“Takes two to tango,” Ash replied, as if discussing the weather. “And since you mentioned her, where is the lady of the house?” The insult was unmistakable.

“Taking care of her responsibilities, that’s where, mijo. Responsibilities you ran away from and left her and your Daddy to deal with.” Reaching out, she straightened the collar on his shirt, smoothing the wrinkled placket over the t-shirt underneath.

Her gesture was at complete odds to her words, proving her dedication to him.

Pursing her lips, she relented to his question. “She’s working out of the barn office instead of the house, on account of some production problems lately, but she had a meeting in the city this morning.” Grabbing a bucket of cleaning supplies from the floor, she pulled the gloves back on with a snap. “Not supposed to be back until after lunch, gracias a dios.”
Thank God
.

She crossed herself again. “Diablo azul de ojos,” she declared with conviction, shaking her head at the big man.

Ash grinned and she repeated her words, smiling this time. Having been called much worse than a blue eyed devil, he let the comment go and paced again, stopping only to stare out the back door, the blue water of the pool holding his attention.

The entertaining show over, Beck looked at his watch and moved toward the closed door, not caring that Hope still had three minutes on the clock. It opened before he reached it and she walked out, eyes red but dry. Nodding at his questioning look, she marched to the front door with a spring in her step that said she was not only fine, but downright chipper, stopping to give Rosa a hug.

“So grown up,” Rosa said, clasping Hope’s hands as she inspected her. “My girl is not so little anymore, is she? Your mama would be proud, mija. Your Daddy is. He talks about you all the time.” She winked at Beck. “And with your own young man, too.”

Ash scoffed, throwing up his hands to protest Beck’s assumed status, but Hope stopped his rant by promising to visit soon, placing a smacking kiss on Rosa’s cheek, and stepping out into the bright sunshine. She was fibbing about the visit. The way she’d bit her bottom lip when she’d said it was a dead giveaway.

Following her, he snagged the hem of her sweatshirt. “Hey, wait up. Let’s talk.”

“Can’t,” she called over her shoulder. “I’m late for work. I’ve got a double shift scheduled today. I need to make up time for last night, remember?” She held up her phone. “Bubba’s already called me twice.”

Like she’d been shot out of a cannon, he watched her peel away in an orange flash.

“What was last night?” Ash growled suspiciously, like a pit bull ready to attack.

“A reality check,” he answered honestly, heading for the Jeep. “And I’m late for work, too.”

He’d gotten too close to the situation and lost his objectivity. Hope was a hook-up. She wasn’t his problem. Her problems weren’t his problem. The only thing he was concerned with was how quickly he could get her naked and horizontal. Or vertical. He wasn’t picky. In the shower, maybe. Or against his front door.

When Beck stopped in the act of hopping into the Jeep and gestured toward the four car garage, he told himself it was with the interest of a casual observer. “That’s it, isn’t it?”

Jogging around to the side of the garage, he saw a staircase leading to the room above. With a scrolling iron handrail draped in green ivy, it met a windowless door painted the same color as the house. The metal security door looked innocent enough—when you were standing on the free side of it.

“What did she tell you about that?” Ash asked, leaning against the Jeep’s sturdy bumper, turning his vibrating phone off and pocketing it.

Beck shrugged, sliding his sunglasses on. His lips were sealed.

Ash sighed, looking out over the vineyard. “Hope was Inez’s bargaining chip. Her leverage. Nothing more, nothing less. We all knew she was heavy handed with her. None of us knew just how much. Or that she was locking her up.”

Settling down next to him, Beck stretched his legs out, preparing to stay awhile. Preparing himself for what Ash had to say. The big man never turned his phone off.

“The long and short of it is, Marshall and Inez had a thing going since the day my old man hired her. They kept it on the down low, because my mother wasn’t exactly of sound mind. Liked her white powder in the morning, her booze in the afternoon, and her pills at night. Then Hope happened. Claudia, my mom,” he clarified, because apparently the Coleson hierarchy stood on first name formality, “pretty much lost her shit over that. Not because his illegitimate kid was a reminder that her husband cheated. But because people would talk. And see that all of this,” he motioned around him, “wasn’t real. It was a business. Their marriage was a business. She threatened to take Marshall for everything he had and go public with the affair. Make the divorce front page news for months. She wanted the house, the cars, the bank accounts, the whole fucking winery.” He paused, shuffling his booted feet as he looked at his watch and waited.

For what—or who—Beck wasn’t clear on, but he did have a feeling the only thing Claudia hadn’t included on her wish list was her son.

“Marshall couldn’t lose his empire, of course,” Ash finally continued. “But he couldn’t quite let go of his convenient piece of ass, either. Inez wasn’t much for morals, but she was exotic and beautiful, and good in the sack apparently, ‘cause the old man was just plain blinded by her pussy. He pumped the brakes on their affair and she threatened to take Hope and leave. Go back to Nicaragua, hide in some corrupt village and sell Hope into the sex industry. Marshall was willing to do anything to keep that from happening. Except give up his wine.”

When a group of workers crossed from the barn toward the fields, they slowed their steps, acknowledging Ash with surprise and obvious respect before continuing on.

“So, an agreement was made,” he said, when they were alone again. “Claudia kept quiet. Marshall and Inez kept fucking. And Hope was kept hidden. Out of sight, out of mind. And it was no sweat until she was about five or so.” A rare grin graced his lips. “Hope’s got an iron will, in case you haven’t come up against it, yet. Nobody pushes her around or tells her what to do. She’d pop up in places she wasn’t supposed to be, at any time of the day or night. Sitting on the kitchen floor eating butter straight out of the container. Rolling empty barrels twice her size through the barn during harvest. Sneaking under the dining room table while Marshall hosted a business dinner. He’d cover for her with barely a scolding, but once Claudia caught on, she put her foot down and went to see a lawyer. Inez was warned again and it must have stuck, because from that point on, Hope wasn’t seen. It was a raw fucking deal for a little kid.”

Ash’s words trailed off and he looked at his watch, again. Then toward the blacktop road snaking through the vineyard’s valley, scowling to find it free of incoming traffic.

“I didn’t know she was being locked up. For a year and a half, Inez locked her in that room for fucking days at a time. Once I found out, it never happened again.” Clearing his throat, he looked at Beck without a hint of guilt or remorse. “Inez was dead the same day. And so was Claudia.”

Beck didn’t ask the question foremost in his mind. If Ash wanted to divulge who’d killed Inez, he’d do it in his own good time.

“The Union Tribune ran several front page articles on what they coined, The Coleson Crime,” he said, referring to the city’s daily newspaper. “The story they told was that Claudia came home one day, found Marshall and Inez in a compromising position, and in her drugged out state of mind, grabbed his hunting rifle and put a hollow point in the center of Inez’s chest. Lucidity returned long enough for her to realize that a prison sentence would hamper her plans to summer on Coronado, and she took off in her Lincoln before the cops showed up. Ran that big boat right off the Coast Highway and onto the jagged cliffs below, just north of Santa Barbara. County medical examiner said she’d died on impact. A clear cut case of a scorned wife, the police said, and closed the investigation within days. They overlooked Hope’s abuse as motive for the killing and thanks to our well paid team of attorneys, the media referred to her only as Inez’s minor child. Nobody suspected she was Marshall’s until the funeral. The eyes,” he said, gesturing toward his own in explanation. “Both women were buried the following week, Hope moved into the house and ate her butter on the kitchen floor without punishment, and Marshall got to keep his wine.” He raised his hands, encompassing the valley spread out before them. “And we all lived happily ever after.”

“Sounds like a made for TV movie,” Beck said, nodding as another group of farm workers came over to greet Ash and shake his hand. It was like sitting next to a superhero. People noticed and approached with awe. Once the men walked away, he added, “And it makes me wonder how much of it’s fiction.”

Ash’s lips quirked. “I don’t know which came first,” he said quietly, in deference to the attention he was drawing. “Claudia’s crazy or Marshall’s cheating. Hell, maybe one had nothing to do with the other.” He stood and stretched, pulling his phone out of his back pocket and turning it on, the device ringing within seconds. “What I do know is, I heard Hope screaming from the wrong side of a padlocked door late one afternoon. I used the first shell to shoot the lock off and found her covered in burn blisters from a spilled pot of boiling water. She wanted mac and cheese, she said. Because it had been three wake up’s since dinner, she said. She was filthy, skinny as fuck, and black and blue with bruises. Inez didn’t understand the big deal. She hadn’t starved her on purpose, she’d just been busy with Marshall. I used the second shell because to me, it was a big deal.”

Glancing at his watch again, he swore under his breath, looking toward the empty road.

“Rosa whisked Hope into the bathroom to treat her burns, so she heard it, but didn’t see it. Claudia saw the whole thing. And it was the first time she ever put me before herself. Wiping down the rifle, she gripped it firmly in her own hands before dropping it down next to Inez’s body. Then she yanked on the front of my shirt and with eyes clearer than they’d been in years, said, ‘When the cops show up, tell them I did this. And when you get married, be a faithful husband.’ And then she took off in her Lincoln and was dead by sundown.”

Beck wasn’t surprised by Ash’s actions. He’d seen him do the same thing to people who’d committed lesser offenses, in order to protect those they might harm.

“Hope knows only what the papers reported.” His icy eyes and fierce voice told Beck it better stay that way. And with one last look at his watch, then at the upstairs windows of the house, he headed for the driver’s side of the Jeep. “Fuck it. Let’s go.”

End of discussion.

Riding in silence, they flew down the blacktop road toward the country highway, leaving the picturesque vineyard behind. Ash was back to his normal non-verbal self, while Beck assimilated what he’d said without really saying it.

Rounding a bend, the reflection off a shiny chrome bumper appeared in the distance, a powder blue convertible speeding down the blacktop, heading toward the vineyard. In seconds, the luxury Mercedes passed by, a flash of dark sunglasses and ultra long, blonde hair blowing like kite streamers in the wind.

The Jeep bucked suddenly, skidding sideways as Ash laid on the brakes, and Beck grabbed the rubber roll bar in front of him. The seatbelt snapped against his chest as the screeching brakes locked up and the Jeep slid to a sudden stop. Ash white knuckled the steering wheel, staring hard into the rearview mirror, and when Beck turned to look behind them, the dust was settling. White smoke cleared, illuminating the brake lights of the blue convertible stopped in the middle of the road, forty yards away. The blonde driver looked straight ahead, sunglasses tilted toward her own rearview mirror, the loud beat of a Katy Perry song coming from the Benz’s state of the art audio system.