FLOWERS and CAGES (13 page)

Mandy took over as hostess, introducing them to the rest of the guests. Rita and her husband, Brock Bentley. State Senator Rand Charles and his wife, Pearl. And finally, two friends who lived and had businesses in Phoenix. Delbert Trent and Sarah Lloyd.

Dalton didn't know what to make of the group. If they were simply a group of old friends getting together, why invite him? Or Colleen? If there were something else going on—if they had gathered for his benefit—Dalton was at a complete loss. He made it through cocktails, though small talk was not his strong suit. When they were seated at the long, formal dining room table, laid out with expensive china and silver, Dalton's patience began to fray. This was crazy. He preferred to put his cards on the table. Colleen hadn't been afraid to say what was on her mind. Neither was he. Seated to Mandy's right, Dalton turned to his hostess.

"Why are we here?"

"I'm sorry," In the middle of taking a bite of perfectly rare beef tenderloin, Mandy looked taken aback. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, when your husband invited me to dinner, I expected something more low key. A family dinner. Roast chicken and mashed potatoes?" Dalton looked down the table at Tolliver. "Don't get me wrong, the food is delicious. It's the trappings that have me confused."

"You're right, Dalton," Tolliver dabbed the corner of his mouth with his linen napkin. "My motive was not completely innocent."

Dalton felt a chill run down his spine. For good measure, it turned around, retracing its path.

"Our meeting wasn't accidental." Dalton made it a statement, not a question. "You were waiting for me."

"I had heard you were in town."

"There was no way you could know I would go for a run. Or the direction I would take." This time, the chill jumped from Dalton's spine, invading his entire body. "You had me watched?"

"Don't take it the wrong way," Tolliver soothed. "You make it sound nefarious when it was anything but. If you let me explain, it will all make sense."

"Maybe. In your world. Not mine." Across the table, Dalton met Colleen's gaze. Silently, they exchanged understanding looks. She calmly set her napkin on the table. Together they started to get to their feet.

"Please." Mandy placed a hand on Colleen's, wisely directing her appeal away from Dalton. "Listen to what Tolliver has to say. If you still want to leave, we won't detain you."

Detain
? Dalton was certain it sounded more
film noir
than intended. This wasn't a Hollywood flick. Still, if Colleen had given him the signal, he would have kept moving. With a shrug, she sat down. He followed suit

"Are you sure?" Dalton asked her.

"You deserve some answers." Deliberately, Colleen took her napkin, placing it on her lap. "And I'm nosy."

The whole time, she held Dalton's gaze. He saw the twinkle and relaxed—slightly.
Okay
, he told her with his eyes.
You asked for it
. Inexplicably, Colleen's lips twitched. She found humor in the situation. Dalton wasn't quite there. However, realizing how she felt—that Colleen wasn't concerned—helped the tension seep from his shoulders. When she winked, Dalton almost smiled.

Waiting a beat, he turned to Tolliver. "You're on."

"I had hoped to wait until we had finished this excellent meal before broaching this very serious subject."

"I can eat and listen." That said, Dalton kept his hands in his lap. Unconsciously, his fingers drummed a beat on the side of his leg.

"Will you indulge me for a few minutes? There is a bit of a backstory."

"There always is." This bit of snarky irony came from Colleen.

Finally, Dalton smiled. The woman was amazing. If this were a painting, she would look right at home with the hand-painted porcelain and antique silver. To the manor born. However, she wasn't one of them. There wasn't a pretentious bone in Colleen McNamara's body. She was smart. Sassy. Sexy. And would look a person in the eye, telling it like it was. No, she didn't belong here. Thank God.

"If you're going to tell your tale, Tolliver, you might as well tell it all."

Around them, the rest of the guests continued with their meal, though it was clear their attention was focused on their host, not the creamed peas and tiny onions. Taking a sip of wine, Tolliver began.

"Midas has always been my home. Manfred Langley Senior gave me my first job. Junior attended a Boston boarding school, acquiring the polish his father never had but always coveted."

Dalton wanted answers, not an HBO docudrama. But, in spite of himself, he was interested.

"The Langley money came from railroads?"

"Among other things," snorted the senator.

"No one has ever proved those rumors, Rand," his wife reminded him.

"Drugs. Prostitution. Lord knows what else," Tolliver nodded. "But as Pearl pointed out, that is only speculation. Tonight, we are dealing in facts. I made my money working for men—and women—like Langley. My dream was to be one of them. And I was. We bought a house behind that brick wall. We socialized with our neighbors. Though the Langleys always held themselves apart, we were friendly."

"What changed?" Dalton asked.

"It wasn't one thing. I," Tolliver smiled at his wife, the love he felt right there for all to see. "We began to realize that we didn't belong. Part of it was political—a big part. I'm ashamed that it took us so long. But when it became clear that Manfred Junior believed his family was above the law, it was the last straw."

"I wish we could have helped you," Mandy said to Dalton. "Like many in this town, we believed the lies. Judge Langley paid off a lot of people to make those lies stick. Some people still believe you were guilty."

"You don't?" Before, Dalton had been mildly interested. Now, they had his full attention.

"The bastard bragged about it," Tolliver shook his head. "Not right away. It was a few years after you were convicted. He was damn proud of himself.
Saved the family name
, was how he put it. You were nobody. Why shouldn't you take the fall?"

"I could give him a few reasons," Dalton ground out. This wasn't news, but it rankled to hear it. Not proof, but as close as he would get.

"That was when we decided to sell that house and build a home."

"You were born here, I understand that. Why did you stay in Midas?" Colleen didn't look puzzled, she looked mystified. "You could live anywhere."

"I want to make my town better, Colleen." Seeing the doubt on her face, he nodded. "I know it doesn't seem that way. But change takes time. My money is new. That was easy. Power takes longer. With the help of some good friends, we're making progress."

"Not that I can see."

"I understand your frustration. This fall, we finally have some important initiatives on the ballot. They have a good chance of passing. But to make a big move, we need the right people representing us." Tolliver's gaze shifted from Colleen to Dalton. "That's where you come in."

"Me?" Dalton was certain he misheard.

"Don't try to suck Dalton into your convoluted push for power." Colleen dropped her good guest persona. In its place, the protective friend came out swinging. "I have lived in Midas for close to half my life. Do we know each other? Do we?" she asked Tolliver's daughter, Rita. The woman, startled that Colleen had suddenly dragged her into the fray, opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Colleen sent Tolliver a satisfied nod. "There's your answer. No. Because we live in the same town, but our worlds never meet. You can pontificate all you want about working for the good of Midas. It's a load of crap."

As Colleen spoke, Tolliver's mouth tightened. Dalton waited for his response, ready to shoot him down if he dared to unload on Colleen for telling nothing but the truth. Breathing deeply, Tolliver laid his hands on the table as though steadying his emotions. When he spoke, his voice was steady and relatively calm.

"You are welcome to your opinion, Colleen. You're wrong, but I refuse to defend myself in my own home."

"We won't stay for dessert," Dalton said, stating the obvious. "Finish what you have to say; you won't get another chance."

"Very well. Here is the bottom line. Next year, Collier Langley will announce his candidacy for the U.S. Senate. The incumbent is set to retire. With his father's money and power behind him, we believe his chances are good."

"You think I can stop him?" Dalton kept his expression neutral.

"Yes." Tolliver nodded. The others at the table, mostly silent until now, murmured their agreement. "Use your celebrity, and your story, to stop this idiocy in its tracks."

"No." Calmly, Dalton rose to his feet. Walking around the table, he ignored the expressions that ranged from startled, to amazed and appalled. He helped Colleen from her chair. "Ready to go?"

"Yes. Please."

"Wait." Tolliver rushed after them. "At least let me tell you our plan."

Dalton turned—slowly. Proving he wasn't stupid, Tolliver took a step back. Then took two more.

"I know what it's like to be screwed over by a rich man from Midas. Never again."

Taking Colleen's hand, Dalton exited the house. He took a deep, cleansing breath.

"It smells different out here."

"True," Colleen didn't let him linger on the porch. "But the scent of bullshit lingers. Let's open the windows, drive fast, and air ourselves out."

Getting behind the wheel, Dalton waited until Colleen buckled her seatbelt. Snaking his arm around her waist, he kissed her. Long and deep, he savored her taste. Like no one else. Sweet and spicy and irresistible.

"Let's get out of here."

They rode in silence, the wind whipping around them—warm yet refreshing. Reaching for Colleen, he threaded his fingers through hers. What would she say if he kept driving? Out of Midas. All the way to Los Angeles. Dalton was tempted to find out.

"You aren't going to let Collier Langley get elected."

"Not in this lifetime or any other."

"Good."

Raising Colleen's hand to his lips, Dalton took his eyes off the road long enough to meet her emerald gaze. The connection was brief, but he saw all he needed. In only a few days, Colleen knew him well enough to understand what Tolliver and his crew never would. Dalton would have his revenge. But on his own terms.

Dalton drove blind, his brain trying to process a load of new information while he decided what to do about it. Because he was going to do something. The important thing was not to jump without looking up, down, sideways, and back again. He relied on Colleen to tell him when to turn right, left or not at all.

"Stop."

Surprised, Dalton looked around. They were at the lake. Smiling, he let the air out of his lungs, wondering how long he had gone without breathing properly.

"You approve?" Colleen asked.

"Completely."

"Good." She opened her door. "There is a blanket in the trunk. And while you're at it, grab the cooler."

"Cooler?" Intrigued, Dalton inserted the car key into the lock, raising the trunk to peer inside. He didn't know when Colleen had slipped it in, but next to a thick, light blue blanket, sat a cooler. "You are full of surprises."

"This way." Removing her shoes, Colleen crooked her finger. "That surprise is only the beginning.

Dalton was happy to follow. The cooler wasn't large, but it had quite a heft. He couldn't wait to find out what treasures Colleen had packed inside.

The lake looked different in the day's waning light. In the glow of the setting sun, the oasis had turned from magical to mysterious. Shadows crept toward its shores. The water sparkled as though stars had embedded themselves in the depths. It calmed Dalton's mind. At the same time, the woman next to him heated his blood.

"I was afraid Mom and Rick might be here."

"What if they were?"

"I would have told you to turn the car around. Immediately."

Dalton didn't understand the dynamics between a mother and daughter. His situation—his mother and sister—was so far from the norm he wouldn't begin to judge. Or compare it to Colleen's. However, he couldn't help but wonder. Obviously, she loved her mother. Yet they seemed to be at odds about… everything.

"Your mother," he said, handing her the blanket.

"Where?" Colleen's head whipped around.

Her reaction was so comically over the top, Dalton had to laugh.

"I was going to say, your mother sounds like a complicated woman."

Colleen spread the blanket on the same grassy patch where they lay that afternoon.

"That's putting it mildly. Mom means well. And we muddle through. I think we'll be happier when I'm in a different zip code."

Setting down the cooler, Dalton followed Colleen's lead, taking off his shoes and socks. Without thinking, he automatically put them, and Colleen's sandals, in a neat row on the picnic table, smiling when he heard her laugh.

"I love my shoes," he admitted. Dalton took Colleen's hand. Kissing the back, he lowered her to the blanket. "I will toss my clothes in every direction, but what I wear on my feet gets special attention."

"Any particular reason?" she asked as he joined her. She opened the cooler and removed beers, the bottles glistening with condensation. Skillfully, she removed the caps, handed one to Dalton, and then took a sip.

Dalton did more than take a sip. He drained half the bottle, more for the quenching liquid than the alcohol. Whatever else Colleen had in the cooler could wait. This was nice. Very nice. With a sigh, Dalton leaned back, closing his eyes. The night sounds became more pronounced. Playing lead, a cricket sent his music across the lake. A frog chimed in now and then. Other animals and insects followed. Nature's band, he thought. In perfect harmony.

"My cellmate had a theory about shoes," he began. Before Dalton knew it, he told Colleen about Silas Freed and all the things the wise man taught him. Not enough people remembered his old friend. It felt good to pass Silas' wisdom on.

"I wish I could meet him." Colleen lay next to him on her side, her head pillowed on her arm. "I would thank Silas for imparting his wisdom and for taking care of you."