Golden Trail (72 page)

“What… what do you want me to do?” Jeremy
asked.

“You get me what she’s got on Rutledge and
in about fifteen minutes, you and Ryker are gonna take a ride. At
the end of that ride, there’s gonna be a cop. You’re gonna tell him
everything you know about Rutledge and Towers. Then, we’re gonna
let you go. You get them talking in the apartment about what you’re
doin’, where you’re doin’ it and when it’s gonna go down.”

“I… they’re… she’s not stupid. She’s –”

“I don’t give a fuck what she is. You’re not
a good actor now, you got an hour to learn to be one and you stay
in character all the time. When you get up, when you go to bed,
when you eat, when you take a shit, when you’re fuckin’ sleepin’.
All the time. Towers gets tweaked, we’ll take it out on you.”

Jeremy didn’t move, didn’t nod, didn’t
blink. He just stared at Layne.

Layne continued. “What you gotta know is, we
let you go, you try to disappear, we’ll find you. We find you,
we’re not cops, we don’t have rules and when we find you, we’ll do
you a favor. We’ll make it so you won’t be so attractive, and we’ll
make that permanent, so when you do time you won’t be instantly
made into somebody’s bitch.”

“I –” Jeremy started, that one syllable a
squeak but he stopped when Layne bent over him, getting in his
face.

“You’re good, we’ll talk to the cops, see
what we can do since you cooperated. You’re not, Towers and
Rutledge disappear, this gets fucked in
any
way, our sole
focus, our only reason for living, is to find you and fuck you over
so bad, Jeremy, swear to God, you’ll regret bein’ born. You get
me?”

Jeremy didn’t answer, he just stared into
Layne’s eyes, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“You played with girls, young girls, you
fucked with their heads, you freaked them out, you betrayed their
trust, you took advantage and you did it through
a church
,”
Layne whispered. “Young girls who should be worried about a pop
quiz of if some boy is into them not worried about bein’ caught up
in the shitty, creepy, fucked up games you’ve been playin’. That’s
some fucked up shit, you asshole, and you’re gonna pay for that.
But I’m givin’ you a break, a break you don’t deserve, and
you
get to decide how much you’re gonna pay. Now, I asked
you, do you get me?”

“I get you,” Jeremy whispered.

Layne straightened away from him but looked
down at him as he crossed his arms on his chest. “I’m glad to hear
that, Jeremy. Now, I know you’re not too bright but I want you to
concentrate real close on what I’m sayin’. We got you covered. We
know your every move. We know where you live, what you drive, where
you hang and who you fuck.” Part of this was, of course, a lie but
the look on Jeremy’s face said he bought it. “So, just to repeat
and make sure you get it, you are on our radar and there is no hope
of camouflage. You’re playin’ our game now.”

“Right,” Jeremy was still whispering.

Layne stared at him a second then he cut his
eyes to Devin and Ryker and walked out of the room.

On the landing outside his office, he turned
to both men when the door closed behind Ryker.

“Find out everything you can from him,”
Layne ordered Devin. “Dave Merrick should be here soon. He’s going
to be listening to the bugs and he’s got two friends by the names
of Ernie and Spike who are gonna be helping him. They’re all
ex-cops, they know what they’re doin’ and they’ve been briefed.”
Devin nodded and Layne carried on. “And I want a device on his car.
You’ll find them in the storage room.”

“Key,” was Devin’s answer and Layne dug his
keys out of his pocket, twisted the key to the storage room off his
ring and gave it to Devin.

Then his eyes went to Ryker. “You’re gonna
get a call from Garrett Merrick in about five minutes. He’ll tell
you where to meet him. You take Jeremy there. You don’t have to
handle him with care. He falls down half a flight of stairs, shit
happens.” Layne watched Ryker smile his ugly smile and kept
talking. “He’s scared but I want him shit scared. You stay while he
talks with Garrett then you take him back to his car and turn him
loose.”

Ryker nodded.

“Game on, men,” Layne whispered.

“Fuckin’ A, bro,” Ryker grunted.

Devin just stared at him then nodded.

Layne turned away and walked down the
stairs. The Bachelor Auction Powwow would be done soon which meant
Rocky would be alone soon and he needed to get to his woman.

* * * * *

“How together are you?” Layne, standing
outside on Rocky’s balcony, his phone to his ear, asked his
youngest son.

“Today freaked me, Dad, but I’m cool,” Tripp
replied. “I did what Rocky said, texted Giselle to tell her I was
glad she was all right, Giselle called me back and Giselle’s
parents are lettin’ me go over there tomorrow to watch football
then have dinner. It’s all good.”

Layne scanned the landscape as he repeated
to his son, “How together are you?”

Tripp was silent then he asked, “I don’t
know what you’re askin’, Dad.”

“You’re fourteen, Pal, and I got somethin’ I
wanna tell you. But I gotta know you can take it.”

“Is it bad?”

“It could have been.”

More silence then, softly, Tripp said, “He
was gonna hurt her.”

“Yes,” Layne answered, “but he didn’t and
part of the reason why he didn’t was because you made it impossible
for him to get to her. That’s the part I wanted you to know.”

Complete silence.

“You did good, Pal.”

More utter silence.

“You took care of your girl.”

Another beat of silence then, “Thanks,
Dad.”

“Nope, Tripp, I gotta thank you. This is all
gonna be over soon and you and Jasper made that happen.”

“Cool,” Tripp whispered but he didn’t sound
like he thought it was cool. The word was heavy, he’d felt the
weight of what could have gone down and even though that weight was
lifted, the memory of it was fresh.

The door opened, Roc stuck her head out and
said, “Sorry, sweetheart, dinner’s almost ready. Do you want me to
put it to warm?”

“I’ll let you go,” Tripp, obviously hearing
Rocky, said in his ear.

“Give me a minute, Roc,” Layne said to
Rocky, she smiled and closed the door.

Layne watched her strut through the living
room and into the kitchen as he asked Tripp, “You okay, Pal?”

“I’m good, Dad.”

“This shit starts fuckin’ with your head,
you call me, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Good,” Layne muttered.

“Dad?” Tripp called.

“Yeah?”

“Jas told me you and Roc aren’t fake
anymore,” Tripp informed him and Layne pulled in a deep, silent
breath.

Then he replied, “Thought you figured that
out yourself.”

“I did, Jas just confirmed it, said you told
him it wasn’t.”

“Well, it isn’t,” Layne confirmed it
again.

Another beat of silence then, quietly, “I’m
glad.”

He knew that but it was still good to hear
it.

“That’s good, Pal,” Layne said quietly back,
then, “I gotta go eat dinner.”

“Wish I was eatin’ Rocky’s food,” Tripp
muttered, Layne knew that too and he grinned.

“Next week, Tripp.”

“Okay,” Tripp replied then called again,
“Dad?”

“Right here, buddy.”

“I don’t know how to say this,” Tripp told
him and the muscles in Layne’s neck got tight because Tripp sounded
like he didn’t know how to say whatever he had to say but also that
he didn’t want to say it.

“You can be straight with me on anything,
you know that,” Layne returned.

“Well, it’s gonna sound stupid.”

“Nothin’ you say sounds stupid.”

“This will,” Tripp shot back.

“No, Tripp, it won’t. What’s on your
mind?”

“It’s just…” he paused, “Rocky.”

Layne’s entire body got tight. “What about
her?”

“I’m glad you got her back,” Tripp said on a
rush and the tightness left Layne’s body but it stayed completely
still as Tripp kept talking. “For you, ‘cause you’re my Dad but
mostly for her.”

Layne was silent.

Tripp filled the silence. “Is that weird? I
mean, you’re my Dad and I should –”

Layne cut him off. “It’s not weird.”

“I mean, I’m glad for you but Rocky –” Tripp
was still talking fast.

“I get it, Pal,” Layne whispered.

“Is she…” Tripp hesitated, “is she going to
be okay?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because… well, I don’t know but when I
talked with Giselle today, at first, she was bein’ weird and then I
realized she thought I was mad at her and I felt bad because she
felt bad and I didn’t want her to feel bad because she didn’t do
anything wrong. And that got me to thinking that maybe Rocky,
because of what happened with you guys a long time ago, would feel
bad because she thought you were mad at her but that was big,
bigger than what happened with Giselle and that… that kind of
thing… well, I guess I just think it would be hard to let that
go.”

Christ, but his kid was sharp.

“I’ve let it go, Pal,” Layne assured
him.

“Has she?”

“We’re workin’ on it.”

“Good,” Tripp whispered.

“Got anything else on your mind?” Layne
asked.

“No,” Tripp answered.

“World peace? Starving nations? The state of
the economy?”

He heard Tripp’s laugh then, “No, Dad,
jeez.”

“That shit starts weighin’ on you, boy, I’m
only a phone call away.”

“Right, I’ll call when I start worryin’
about world peace,” Tripp returned.

“I gotta eat,” Layne told his son through a
smile.

“All right, see you later.”

“Later,” Layne said then called,
“Tripp?”

“Yeah, Dad?”

“Love you, Pal.”

“Love you too.”

“Later.”

“Later.”

Layne flipped his phone shut and turned to
the door. He opened it and was assaulted with the fumes he’d left
behind ten minutes ago. Chicken tacos. Rocky had been stewing the
meat all day, anxious about Giselle and turning her mind to cooking
rather than worrying so she’d put it on that morning before she
headed over to his place. This was another recipe she’d perfected
in their kitchen years ago. Stewing in the crockpot all day meant
the meat would be tender and shredded and after cooking in its
spices for the last hour, full of flavor.

Rocky was at the counter, her back to him
and didn’t turn when she asked, “You need a fresh beer, baby?”

“I’ll get it,” Layne replied but he didn’t
get it. He walked up to her back, fitted his front to it and slid
his arms along her belly, looking over her shoulder to see she was
grating cheese.

She didn’t stop grating when she noted,
“Don’t keep beer in my stomach fridge, Layne.”

“Mm,” Layne replied through a smile, dropped
his head and kissed her neck.

Then he lifted a hand, yanked her ponytail
holder out and her hair tumbled to her shoulders.

She stopped grating and her neck twisted so
she could glare at him. “Seriously, stop doing that.”

Layne was still smiling when he replied,
“Seriously, no.”

Her eyes narrowed then she went smack into
stare down. Layne held her stare as his other arm wound around her
again and when he was done with the stare down, his arms tightened
and he tickled the sensitive skin at her sides.

Her body jerked and twisted as her head shot
back, her hands dropped the cheese and the grater, went to his
wrists and put pressure on as she shouted through annoyed laughter,
“Stop it, Layne!”

“Nope,” Layne returned.

“Stop!” she yelled, still twisting in his
arms, putting pressure on his wrists and now she was giggling.

Layne was relentless and he kept at her
because he missed this. He knew he missed it but having it back,
hearing Rocky’s laughter, feeling her body against his, doing
something normal like preparing to eat dinner together, he realized
he didn’t miss it, he
missed it.

And when that feeling threatened to
overwhelm him, he stopped tickling her, his arms went around her
tight and hard and he buried his face in the hair at her neck.

When he didn’t speak and after she
controlled her body and laughter, she called, “Layne?”

“Right here, baby,” Layne said into her
neck, not lifting his head but giving her a squeeze.

“Are you okay?”

“Oh yeah,” he replied.

Her body relaxed but her hands tightened on
his wrists.

Then she asked, “Is Tripp okay?”

“Yeah.”

Her hands at his wrists slid along his arms
so they were crossed on his.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

He lifted his mouth to her ear and answered,
“Nothin’, which means everything. I forgot that, I forgot how
nothing meant everything.”

“Layne,” she breathed.

“Love you, baby.”

Her hands squeezed his arms. “Love you too,
sweetheart.” She was quiet then she said, “But Layne?”

He lifted his head. “What?”

“New rule. You can’t make me cry into grated
cheese again.”

He turned her around to face him and saw the
tracks her silent tears left on her face. His hands moved to her
jaws and he used his thumbs to wipe away the wetness.

“Or any foodstuffs,” she went on and his
eyes went from his thumbs to hers.

“Right,” he whispered. “No making you cry
into…
foodstuffs.
”

She grinned up at him, put her hands to his
jaws, lifted up on tiptoe and touched his mouth with hers.

She didn’t take her mouth from his when she
whispered, “Tacos.”

Then she pulled gently away and opened the
cupboard to take out the flour tortillas.

Layne went to the fridge and got himself a
beer, he got her a fancy-ass one and then he sat in front of the TV
with his woman leaned up against him and ate heaven, Mexican
style.