Dawson's Fall (Welcome to Covendale #5) (14 page)

“Your mother would be mortified,” her father said. “Running around with the worst scum in town. How would she feel if you—”

“Dad,” Aubrey cut in sharply. “Mom is dead, and she’s not coming back. Let go of her.”

Roger rose slowly from the table, pinning her with a red-eyed glare. “I don’t know who you are,” he said in that haunting, gutter-rough tone. “But you’re not my daughter anymore.”

“Dad…”

“Don’t speak to me.” He turned and left the room.

Before she could react, Jason snarled, “Get out.”

She stared at her brother. “Do you even know how crazy you are, the two of you?” she said. “It was never their fault. This was all on one man, and he’s dead.”

“Aubrey. Get the hell out of our house.”

“Fine.” She pushed back and stood, her throat tight with sorrow and rage. “But just so you know, if I walk out that door, I’m not coming back.”

Pure hatred filled his eyes. “Good.”

She couldn’t stand another minute. She made her way out, breathing shallowly to stem the tide, but she broke down sitting in her car. How could this be the family she’d known all her life? They were more irrational than she thought possible—they simply refused to accept logic and reality. They weren’t going to change, even a little bit.

Eventually she calmed down enough to drive to her apartment. She’d expected bad, but this was worse. Her father’s reaction had scared her the most—and she knew he had a gun. What if he decided to use it again…this time, with bullets?

She showered, made some tea, and tried to relax and think things through. This was probably a huge mistake. At the least, she should have waited a while longer to tell them. But it was done, and now the only option was to minimize the damage.

She couldn’t let anything happen to Mark.

By nightfall, she’d made a decision. She would go back to her father’s house and do whatever it took to calm them down, appease them enough so they wouldn’t take things out on him. She’d wear them down over time, get them to see reason—but until then, she had to divert the wrath of the Monroes. And before she went, she had to talk to Mark.

She called him. He answered on the second ring, sounding happy and hopeful as he said, “Hey. How’d it go?”

“Not so great.”

“I figured as much,” he said. “What’s the verdict…my head on a platter?”

Oh, God. She wasn’t sure she could do this. But she reminded herself that hurting him now was a better option than seeing him ruined, or dead, and took a deep breath before responding. “They’re going to need some time,” she said. “A lot of time.”

“Figured that too. Does this mean we’re back to midnight on the playground?”

“Mark…I don’t think we should see each other for a while.”

Her heart shattered in the stunned silence. “I see,” he said at last. “Care to explain why?”

“Because I can’t let anything happen to you,” she said. “They’re worse than I’ve ever seen them, and I wouldn’t put it past either one of them to…”

“Kill me?”

She closed her eyes. “Yes.”

“Well, then.” He paused, and she could practically feel the phone freeze in her hand. “I guess I’ll see you at work.”

“No, you won’t,” she half-whispered, making another decision on the spot. “I won’t let them destroy your business. You’ve worked too hard. So…I’m quitting.”

After another long pause, he said, “Fine. Have a nice life.”

And he was gone.

She lowered the phone slowly, clamping a hand over her mouth to stifle a sob. Nothing was fair, nothing was right—and she couldn’t change any of it. Except what her family would do to exact revenge. That, she could stop.

It might be the last thing she could ever do for him.

* * * *

 Aubrey rang the doorbell at her father’s house, steeling herself for an explosion. She waited a few minutes, but no one came, so she rang it again. Another few minutes, and still nothing.

Her finger hovered over the doorbell when the door opened, and Roger peered out with haggard features. “Aubrey?” he croaked. “You…you came back.”

“Yes. I just wanted to tell you—”

He stepped outside and pulled her into a rough embrace. “I am so sorry, sweetheart,” he said. “I never meant to say those terrible things. Please, forgive me.”

Momentarily stunned, she leaned back and looked at him. “Which terrible things?”

“All of them. Well, most of them. I…” His breath shuddered from him as he regarded her with moist eyes. “You’re right,” he said. “Your mother is dead, and nothing will ever change that. And I have held on too long.”

“Dad, I—”

“Wait. Let me finish.” He gave her a sad smile. “You’re my daughter, and I love you more than I can explain. I’ve always wanted the best for you. And I didn’t want you to grow up, but…you’ve gone and done it anyway.”

“I guess I have.” A wild spark of hope took root in her. “But what about…”

“The Dawson boy.” He sighed deeply. “Tell you the truth, I can’t wrap my head around it. I’ll always love you, no matter what. Him, though…” He shook his head. “Let’s just say I’m not adding him to my Christmas list yet. But I’ll try to reserve judgment.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. This time she hugged him. “Thank you so much, Dad.”

“You’re welcome,” he said. “Just…please tell me we’re not at the grandkids stage.”

She laughed as she wiped away tears. “Not even close.”

“Thank God.”

She drew away smiling, but her newfound happiness took a swift turn. “What about Jason?” she said.

“Your brother is…not taking this well, I’m afraid.” Her father made a weak gesture. “Part of that is my fault. Lord knows I’ve encouraged this feud long enough.”

“Where is he?”

“In the guest house. He’s pretty much moved in there, so he can entertain his lady friends.”

“Oh.” There was an image she didn’t want—her brother and sex. “I have to talk to him,” she said. “But I’ll come back up so we can spend a little time together, make up for lunch. Okay?”

Roger nodded. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“See you soon.”

He went back inside, and she headed around to the guest house. She hadn’t seen the place since she got back. There was a light on in the front room—and when she reached it, she realized the door was cracked open.

Frowning, she knocked. “Jason? You in there?”

No answer. She pushed the door open and called louder, but didn’t hear anything. Maybe he was in the bedroom—hopefully alone. But even if she was interrupting something, she had to talk to him now.

She made her way to the back of the guest house, checking the rooms as she went. The bedroom door was cracked too. “Jason?” she said. “Can I talk to you, please?”

Silence replied.

After a brief hesitation, she opened the door onto darkness. “I’m turning the light on,” she said, reaching in for the switch.

The room was empty, but the closet was wide open. And what she saw inside chilled her to the core.

The floor of the closet was heaped with tools. Hammers, nail guns, drills, levels, hand and power saws. Far too many for one person, and Jason had never built a thing in his life. He had been the one to sabotage the job site. But that wasn’t the worst of it.

Three lengths of pipe, blackened and burst in the center. Homemade pipe bombs. He must’ve been testing them. “Oh, Jason,” she whispered, feeling the bottom drop from her stomach. “What are you doing?”

She rushed out and sprinted around the front, checking for what she should have noticed in the first place.

Jason’s car was gone.

She climbed into hers and started the engine, dialing Mark’s number just before she drove off. There were two places her brother could have gone, but she was betting she knew which one. The job site. She knew how he thought—destroy the job, destroy the one thing Mark could never get back.

She only hoped she wasn’t too late.

* * * *

The first thing Mark did after Aubrey ripped his heart out and stomped on it was turn off his phone. If she tried to call back, he didn’t trust himself to speak to her.

The next thing he did was drink. But halfway through his second shot of Highland Park, he found himself staring at the bottle and remembering what happened on the couch he was sitting on. How the first time with her had been like coming home.

And the second time. And the swinging lesson. Hell, even the fights. She was everything he’d never dreamed he could have, but he’d actually had it. For a while.

He wasn’t giving up this easy.

Glad his brothers weren’t here to stop him, he grabbed his keys and headed out the door. He’d take the fight directly to the source—Roger Monroe. And if the old man tried to shoot him…well, he didn’t want to live without Aubrey anyway.

It didn’t take long to reach the Monroe house. He parked behind the white Lincoln that had nearly run him down eight years ago, strode across the lawn and up the porch steps, and jabbed at the doorbell. Then he waited, hands stuffed in his pockets.

A minute later, Roger Monroe opened the door and said, “You’re not Aubrey.”

“Uh…no.” Very far from what he’d anticipated. There was no anger in the man’s tone, only surprise. “Are you expecting her?”

A small scowl formed on Roger’s face. “I did tell her to give me some time,” he said. “I don’t know what you’re doing here, but believe me, I’m not anywhere near ready to have a heart-to-heart with you.”

Now he was really confused. “I came to tell you that I love your daughter,” he said.

“Oh, Lord. Please don’t. It’s hard enough being polite to you.”

“But I thought…” He took a step back. “She told me you were killing mad.”

“I was.” Roger Monroe sighed. “Now I’m not. But I don’t want to shake your hand and invite you to call me Dad, all right? I’m sorry, but I have a lot of hate to let go of first.”

“So you’re okay with it. With us.”

He cringed. “I wouldn’t say okay. Just…slightly more tolerant.”

Mark’s heart beat a rapid rhythm. He almost didn’t dare believe this. “Where’s Aubrey?” he said. “Is she here?”

Another sigh. “Around back at the guest house. Talking to her brother.”

“Thank you.” He turned to head that way, needing to find her.

“Wait.”

He stopped, and Roger walked past him. “You’d better let me go first,” he said. “Jason isn’t quite so tolerant.”

“All right.”

He followed Roger to the back yard, across a neatly trimmed expanse of grass to a small house. A thread of concern shot through him when he realized the front door was wide open. “That doesn’t seem right.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Roger said.

By unspoken consent, they both picked up the pace. Roger went right into the house, and Mark followed close behind. “Jason? Aubrey?” Roger called. “Is everything okay?”

They checked every room. Empty. Roger reached the bedroom first—and stopped so suddenly that Mark almost ran into him. “My God,” he breathed. “I don’t believe…”

“What is it?” Mark pushed past him, and immediately saw what had shocked the man. “Oh, Christ. Those are my tools. And…” He moved toward the closet, his gaze riveted to the twisted lengths of metal at the front of the mess. “Pipe bombs. Jesus.”

Suddenly, he knew what Jason was up to. And if Aubrey had come in here and seen this, she must’ve figured it out—and gone after him.

“I know where they are,” he said. “I have to go.”

“Where? I’m going with you.”

Mark almost told him no, but he didn’t have time to argue. “Fine, but move it,” he said, already striding back through the house. “And call Sheriff Tanner on the way.”

“I already am.”

Outside, they broke into a run.

Chapter 14

Aubrey arrived at the job site to find Jason’s car, empty—and the house on fire.

She parked crookedly, got out and sprinted for the structure. “Jason!” she screamed as she ran. “Are you in there?” The fire wasn’t too bad yet. A lot of smoke, a few flames licking at the window openings. It looked like the bulk of it was pretty far inside the place.

She rushed through the entryway frame and immediately started choking. Eyes watering, she waved a hand in front of her face and pulled out her phone with the other, navigating awkwardly to the flashlight app. “Jason, answer me!”

The light didn’t do much. There was thick smoke everywhere, and the scant flames weren’t bright enough to show anything. She lifted her shirt over her nose and mouth, trying to keep some of the smoke out, and moved tentatively forward. “Jason?”

A weak cough. She couldn’t tell where it was coming from. “Can’t move…” a voice whispered.

“Jason!”

She stumbled around endlessly, her breath coming harder as the smoke infiltrated her lungs. “Say something,” she rasped. “Jason…”

“Here.”

The faint word came from her right. Squinting against watering eyes, she moved in that direction and held the phone as far out as possible, until the choked beam of light picked out a heap of debris—and her brother pinned beneath.

“Oh, no,” she moaned. She reached his side and started pulling off whatever she could. “Hang on. I’ll get you out of here.”

“Went off early.” He tried to lift his head. “Bree…too heavy…”

“No. I’ve got it.” She was coughing now, hacking, and the sound alarmed her. Worse, she was weakening by the second. “You’ll be fine.”

“Leave me.”

“No!” Finally, she cleared all the loose debris—only to find a heavy ceiling beam holding him down.

She pulled, tugged, kicked. It didn’t budge. She was already too weak to move it.

“
Go
,” her brother rasped. “I deserve this. You don’t.”

“I’m not going to let you die,” she panted, looking around for anything she could use as a tool. Smoke obscured everything, and now she could hear the crackle of hungry flames. “There’s a tool shed. I’ll get something to use and come back.”

“Don’t.”

“I’m coming back for you,” she said.

Over his fading protests, she turned and headed through the smoke. The cell phone’s light did nothing now. Dizzy and disoriented, she waved her arms in an attempt to find wall studs. She could hold onto them and pull her way out.