Wild Card (North Ridge #1)

His eyes blaze with a shining blackness, like this whole thing has excited him instead of breaking his spirit. “This man,” Errol says hoarsely, slurring, barely able to move his jaw, “broke into my house with the intention to murder me. He had a shotgun aimed at my head before I fought back, and then he attempted to beat me…to death.”

Everything inside me seizes. I look to Zimmer. “I came here because Rachel, his daughter, said he’s been—”

“This man came here with the intent to fucking kill me,” Errol cries out. “Arrest him.”

Zimmer moves toward me, one shaking hand holding the gun, the other going for his handcuffs. Maybe I can fight off both of them, but I’m not about to hurt Zimmer. I knew his son from high school. He’s a good man.

But he’s in the position beneath Errol. And he’ll do whatever Errol says.

“I’ll throw your fucking ass in jail and you’ll never come out,” Errol seethes, blood pouring from his cuts. My knuckles throb, scraped raw from his face. “You hear me? You’ll fucking rot in there, pretty boy.”

The cuffs shake in Zimmer’s hands.

I’m fucked.

Completely fucked.

“Unless,” Errol adds slowly, “you can do me a favor.”

I try to swallow but can’t. I look to Zimmer but he’s paused, waiting, looking just as confused as I feel.

I don’t want to do this man any fucking favors.

“I’m not doing shit for you,” I tell him. “I know what you did. I’ll make sure the whole damn world knows it.”

“No one in this whole damn world would believe you,” Errol says. “Not Zimmer over there. Not any other cop, or cheap lawyer in this town. Not even my own wife. No one.”

He can’t be right. That’s not supposed to be how this turns out. He doesn’t just win because he’s a cop. He doesn’t get to get away with it. With all the sick and terrible things he’s done…

“Now, I won’t repeat myself again,” he says, and he fucking sounds like a man who’s holding all the cards. “But I need you to do me a favor. And I won’t press charges. And Zimmer here will pretend like he never saw a goddamn thing. Ain’t that right, Zimmer?”

“Uh, yes sir.”

“Good.” His eyes peer at mine, hate coming from a place I would never dare explore. “If you break up with my daughter and I never see your face around here again, I’ll let all of this slide.”

I balk. “Why the fuck would I do that?”

“Because I’ll put you away for good. Take a good look at me, boy. Hey, Zimmer, you take a good look, too. You came here to murder me and I’m pretty sure that if Zimmer hadn’t stepped in, you would have finished the job.” He spits a lump of blood onto the floor and then smiles at me with missing teeth. “I think Zimmer deserves a promotion for saving my life.”

I look over my shoulder at Zimmer. He’s standing up straighter, and like most simple cops in this town, he would love nothing more. But he’s still confused as to what’s going on.

I’m not, though. What Errol is asking me to do is not the better alternative than jail.

And that’s why he’s asking it.

Because it would destroy me even more.

He’s seen me around his daughter, day in and day out since we were both nine years old. We have eleven years of history together, eleven years of love. He knows that giving that up will destroy me, destroy her.

“You don’t have much time to think,” Errol says, sounding weaker. “Don’t be a martyr. If you go to jail, you’ll be sent up to prison in Kamloops. Your daddy and grandfather will lose a hand on the ranch. Your family’s reputation will be ruined, I’ll see to that. And you’ll leave your precious Rachel all alone. You hear me? She’ll be all alone…and small towns can be cruel.”

My heart thuds slowly in my chest as I try and grasp what he’s saying. If I go to jail, she has no one. Her only alternative is to move, but would she? Not unless I push her away. If I break up with her, if I push her away, she’ll leave this town for good. I know she will. It’s all she’s been talking about for years. She’s only staying here for me.

I’m not worth it. I never have been.

And her father isn’t a stupid man. He knows if I go to jail, there will be talk over what I did and why. People love to find the motive, especially when it comes from someone like me. I might be a wild card, but attempted murder is not something that people would see coming. They’ll want to know. And people will talk. Maybe even Rachel and Vernalee will come forward.

Or I can break it off with Rachel and tell her to leave. To go. The only thing is, that poor girl loves me. She won’t go easily. If I slip for even a second about what’s going on, she’ll stay.

“Time is ticking,” Errol says, slouching into the kitchen chair. “What will it be?”





13





Rachel





Some things never change.

One of those things is the Bear Trap pub.

The moment I turned nineteen and could legally drink, this damn pub became like a third home to me (I say third because Shane’s was my second). I was here almost every night, not drinking to get wasted, though that sometimes happened when I had too many Jaeger bombs, but just having a beer or two and enjoying the company of my friends.

Tonight, it looks the same as it ever did. Back then, Del worked here too, only she wasn’t the owner and manager of the bar like she is now. But there were still peanuts in the little yellow bowls, the shells casually discarded on the floor, and the lighting was still dim (combined with beer goggles this place was quite the hook-up spot), and the walls dark and covered with faded mountain memorabilia. There’s even Old Joe, still in his regular booth.

It’s Old Joe who actually bought me the beer I’m drinking right now, though Fox promised to get me the next round. He’s sitting beside me at the bar, such a giant hulk of a man.

“Cheers,” Fox says to me, raising his beer and clinking it against mine.

“Cheers,” I say, taking a sip.

“You didn’t look me in the eye,” he teases. “You know what that means. Seven years of bad sex.”

Del snorts from across the bar. “Hogwash.”

“Hogwash?” Fox repeats, his dark brows raised. “Since when did you start saying hogwash, Del?”

“Since I started dealing with people who say hogwash on a daily basis. You two are the youngest people I’ve had in here in a while. I know the Bear Trap is supposed to be for the locals, but how come the locals have to be so damn old?”

Fox laughs. Fox doesn’t laugh much. In that respect he’s a lot like Hank and Shane, though he’s a lot more brooding. But tonight he’s been laughing and smiling at pretty much everything Del says.

“Is it me?” Del says, looking down at her tiny faded ringer tee with the bar’s logo on it, which her boobs are stretching to the point of being illegible. “Maybe I should dress fancier.”

“Are you kidding me?” Fox says, sitting up straighter, bouncing his foot on the rung of the stool. “Don’t you ever change, unless your clientele starts having heart attacks. Those breasts are pretty dangerous.”

She scrunches up her wet rag and throws it at his face, but he catches it one-handed. “Nice try, baby,” he says.