Dawson's Fall (Welcome to Covendale #5) (2 page)

Incredibly, he did. And Jason took advantage of it by plowing a fist into his face.

Aubrey screamed as the group of boys who’d come with Beth and Jillian converged on the fight. It took three of them to hold Mark back, and two to restrain Jason. When the motion died down, Mark growled, “You all want to let go of me. Right fucking now.”

“You done, man?” The speaker, a senior named Adam somebody, sounded scared but determined. “We don’t want any more trouble.”

“Let.
Go.
”

All three of them stepped back instantly, like they were on springs.

Aubrey sent a panicked glance at Mark, who already had a nasty bruise forming under his eye, and then rushed over to Jason. “Just drop it,” she said. “Please. We don’t have to do this.”

“Yes, we do.” Jason wrenched free of his supporters, bloodied and gasping for breath. Mark had done some real damage in a matter of seconds. “Jesus Christ, Bree. The scumbag practically raped you. I’m gonna fucking kill him.”

“He didn’t do anything, Jason.” She laid a trembling hand on her brother’s arm. “We were just talking.”

“You don’t talk with your tongue down somebody’s throat. And just what the hell could you possibly have to talk to
him
about?”

“Just lay off him,” she whispered. “His mother is dying.”

“Yeah? Well,
good.
” Jason stepped aside and glared at Mark. “I hope it fucking hurts when she dies,” he snarled. “In fact, I hope that bitch drops dead right this second. And it still won’t be enough, you worthless bastard.”

“Jason!”

“Don’t you ever touch my sister again, Dawson,” he said, ignoring her completely. “You got that?”

Mark’s eyes were green flames. “I got it,” he said with lethal calm. Then he turned and walked away, across the darkened fields that connected the Lysanders’ back yard with the town’s main road.

No one tried to stop him.

Aubrey watched helplessly, her heart breaking in two. When she couldn’t see him anymore, she turned back to berate her brother for his cruelty—only to see him dialing his phone. “What are you doing?” she said.

“I’m calling Dad.”

Her blood ran cold. “You can’t do that. He’ll kill him.”

“That’s the idea,” Jason said through his teeth.

She grabbed for the phone, but he snatched it back. “Don’t,” she said. “This has to stop. Mark said you’re even now, and I think he’s right. He’s going to lose his mother. Just like you.”

Jason stared at her. “Bree, what the hell’s wrong with you? In case you forgot, you lost your mother too.”

“But Mark didn’t kill her,” she managed.

Neither of them moved for a long moment. Finally, Jason sighed and put the phone in his pocket. “All right,” he said. “I won’t call.”

“Thank you.”

A deep frown creased his mouth. “You need to relax,” he said. “Beth, can you take her back inside and find someplace quiet, maybe get her a drink?”

“Nothing with alcohol,” Aubrey said quickly.

Beth took her arm. “I’ll get you some water,” she said. “Come on. What a party, huh?”

“Yes,” she murmured, forcing her feet to shuffle alongside Beth. “I just can’t believe…” She glanced back at her brother—and for a second she could’ve sworn the phone was in his hand again. But he smiled and shrugged, and she decided to let it go, too.

Jason might despise Mark with everything he had, but he would never actually try to get another human being killed. Not even a Dawson.

* * * *

Mark walked down Main Street mechanically, his hands thrust deep in his pockets to keep himself from punching everything that wouldn’t run away.

He’d done a lot of stupid things in his life so far, but this one beat them all hands-down. It was a massive mistake to even speak to Aubrey Monroe in the first place. And then he’d gone and kissed her.

She hadn’t even tried to stop him.

He’d anticipated a good slap from her, a few choice words. Maybe even a vow to kill him. God, he’d been wanting to do that all year—just to see how the Ice Queen would react. He never expected that. And he sure as hell didn’t think
he’d
feel anything.

But he did. He’d felt more than he had in a very long time.

Now he couldn’t stop feeling it.

“You fucking idiot,” he muttered aloud. This had gone way too far. He should’ve told Sanders he refused to partner with her from the start, or just dropped physics like the guidance counselor told him to. The one who was convinced he was too stupid for anything more challenging than counting to ten, despite his grades. If he’d done that, he never would’ve realized that Aubrey was beautiful, and smart, and kind—to everyone but him, of course. She still would’ve been the enemy.

That was a lot easier to live with than wanting her, knowing damned well he could never have her. Because she was a Monroe.

He tried to push her out of his head and focus on Jason. Not that he could do anything about that, either. But the rage hurt less, and he was good and pissed about his eye. His mother would be so unhappy. She already worried enough over him, and his brothers and sister, when she had far more important things to worry about. Like dying.

Wrapped up in his own miserable thoughts, he didn’t even notice the big white Lincoln rolling slowly toward him—until it swerved into the oncoming lane and jumped the curb, coming to a crooked stop in front of him. The driver’s side door opened.

And Aubrey’s father got out.

Roger Monroe looked terrible. The owner of Covendale Savings and Mutual Bank, he was normally dressed in a crisp suit, clean-shaven and straight as a rod. But right now he wore a stained t-shirt beneath a rumpled jacket, plaid pajama pants, and house slippers. Blank eyes stared dully from a face sprinkled with stubble, and his arms hung slack at his sides.

There was a gun clutched loosely in one hand.

Wide-eyed and startled, Mark took a rapid step back. “Mr. Monroe—”

“Shut up.” The man’s tone was as ragged as his appearance. “My daughter,” he said. “You…
assaulted
her.”

“No.” Mark raised his hands slowly, trying to look non-threatening. His stomach churned like a waterfall. “It was a misunderstanding,” he said. “An accident.”

“An accident,” the man repeated in hollow tones. “Like my wife. And my baby.”

“Mr. Monroe, please…”

“You’re animals. All of you Dawsons. Wild, rabid animals.” He stepped forward and lifted the gun with a trembling arm. “You need to be put out of your misery.”

Mark swallowed hard and tensed to run.

The screech of tires behind him startled his heart into beating again. He didn’t dare look away from the man with the gun, but he hoped a witness would at least keep him from pulling the trigger.

A door clicked opened, and a deep voice said, “I called the sheriff. Put it down, Monroe.”

Jonah.
Mark shuddered inwardly. He had no idea how his older brother found out about this—and he wasn’t sure if things were better or worse. After all, now the man had two Dawsons he could shoot.

He sensed Jonah coming up next to him before he caught a glimpse of him from the corner of his eye. “You don’t want to do this,” his brother said. “Sheriff Tanner is on the way. I told him what you were doing. He’ll know it was you.”

Monroe looked from one to the other. “Animals,” he whispered. “You’re all animals.”

After a moment that stretched into eternity, the man finally lowered the gun and shuffled back to his car.

Mark didn’t move until the Lincoln started up and drove away. Then he let out a shaking breath. “That was a hell of a bluff,” he said, turning to Jonah at last. “I mean, the sheriff wouldn’t—”

Looking at his brother was like taking a wrecking ball to the gut.

Jonah was pale as winter, with dark shadows under wet, red-rimmed eyes, and pain etched into every feature. His hands were fisted so tightly that his knuckles gleamed white. Even as Mark stared at him, one tear escaped to slide slowly down his cheek.

And he knew.

“Jonah.” His voice seemed to come from a long way off. “Is she…”

His brother nodded once. Up, down.

The icy numbness that filled him was almost comforting. “Who’s with the kids?”

“Gramps. And that preacher.”

“All right.”

Without a sound, he followed Jonah to the rust-eaten pickup parked just behind them. His mind tucked away Jason Monroe’s cruelly prophetic words from the party, so he could take them out later to punish himself. Right now he needed to focus on his family.

The Dawsons had a funeral to plan.

Chapter 1

Covendale – present day

The Klinker hadn’t changed a bit in the last eight years.

Aubrey hung back by the food table, looking around the big room at the back of the bar that had hosted scores of Covendale’s wedding receptions, anniversary parties, family reunions, and other big life events. Including welcome-home parties like this one. She was still trying to recover from the surprise—her father hadn’t told her anything about it until they got here half an hour ago.

Since then, she must’ve talked to dozens of people. A lot of them she barely remembered. It wasn’t easy pretending she was happy to see virtual strangers, especially when they acted like she was some kind of celebrity. The prodigal daughter returned. Her father had seriously overplayed her accomplishments. You’d think no one in this town had ever graduated from college or worked an internship before.

Of course the one person she recalled vividly, despite actively trying to forget him, would never be here. She figured the Dawsons must have left this town years ago, anyway. After their mother died, there wouldn’t be anything for them in Covendale.

“Wow. You look so excited.”

She jumped a bit, and then smiled and gave her a brother a light shove. “You scared me,” she said. “I thought you weren’t coming until later.”

“And miss all this fun?”

“I blame you,” she said. “You could’ve talked him out of it.”

Jason smirked. “Maybe. But it doesn’t pay to piss off the boss.”

At last she relented and hugged him. “Thanks for being here.”

“Like I had a choice.” He smiled and stepped back. “You’re still coming for dinner tomorrow, right? I haven’t gotten to see you much since you got here.”

“Of course.” A quick stab of guilt moved through her. She’d been back almost a week, but she’d spent most of her time at her new apartment in the main part of town. Much as she loved her family, she couldn’t live with them anymore—not after being on her own for so long. But Jason had never left, and still lived with their father so he wouldn’t be alone.

She felt guilty about that, too.

“So how’s it going with your promotion?” she said, hoping to move the conversation away from her. “Dad says you’re pretty much in charge now.”

Jason shrugged. “I’m learning the ropes,” he said. “He’ll always be the big guy, but at least no one resents me for being the boss’s son. Plus, I have the best office.”

“That’s awesome.” Hopefully she sounded more excited than she felt. It was a relief to know that Jason would carry on the family business—because a long career in banking was not particularly appealing to her.

Before she could come up with something encouraging to say, her father started toward them with an older woman in tow. Aubrey had never seen her before, but everything about the woman said she had money. A whole lot of money.

Roger Monroe was smiling when he reached them. “Aubrey, I’d like you to meet my newest client,” he said. “Mrs. Joliet Vanderbright, this is my daughter, Aubrey.”

“Oh, you are just lovely.” The woman, Mrs. Vanderbright, stepped forward and took the hand Aubrey had automatically extended. Hers was soft and dry, with a grip firmer than most men’s. “I simply can’t wait to work with you, dear.”

“Um.” Aubrey blinked and shot a glance at her father. “Work with me?”

“Hasn’t Roger told you? I’d like to hire you straight away.” She spoke with the confident tone of someone who’d never been refused. “In fact, I’d like you to start tomorrow.”

“Start what?”

“Oh, my. Perhaps I’ll give the two of you a minute.” Mrs. Vanderbright flashed a smile full of perfect pearl-white teeth, and then took Jason’s arm. “Meanwhile, I’d love to speak with my account manager. Do you have a moment, young Mr. Monroe?”

“For you, Mrs. V., I’ve got all the time in the world.” Jason winked and led the woman away.

When they were gone, Aubrey held back a sigh. “Dad, what’s going on?”

“Well.” He cleared his throat and smiled awkwardly. “Joliet is new in town, and she’s having a home built. And I might have shown her your online portfolio.”

“Wait a minute,” she said. “She wants me to build a house? You do know I took interior design, right?”

“Oh, no, it’s nothing like that,” her father said. “She already has a construction firm. In fact, they have the foundation finished and they’re working on the frame…so she tells me. I haven’t seen the place.”

Aubrey frowned. “So why does she want me?”

“As a consultant. For…interior things.”

“Interior things,” she repeated.

“Joliet says she likes your style.”

“Oh.” It was harder than she expected to hold back her anger. She knew her father meant well—he’d always wanted the best for both of them, especially after they lost Mom. But she’d left because of the smothering effect of all those good intentions, and coming back to more of the same wasn’t what she’d hoped for.

She tried to choose her next words carefully. “Thank you,” she said. “I appreciate the vote of confidence. But I have plans for my career, and I still have a lot to do before I can take clients.”

“Well, that should be fine,” he said. “She won’t mind an informal arrangement.”

“No, Dad…” This time she couldn’t keep from sighing. “I don’t think you understand,” she said. “I can’t take this project. I’m just not ready yet.”

The hurt look on his face got to her, the way it always did. “Joliet will be so disappointed,” her father said. “She’s a big client of the bank’s, you know. When she came to this area a few months ago, she transferred everything over to us.”