Renegade's Pride. B.J. Daniels
Or more than likely wanted other people to believe their father and quit treating him like a nutcase. “Or maybe what happened to him is more like a flashback from when he was in the Vietnam War. Let’s not forget what he’s been through before any of this alien talk.”
Darby nodded and took another drink. Their father was a war hero. He’d been shot down and captured, spending months in a prison camp before being rescued. “So you don’t think there is anything going on at the missile silo?” Darby asked.
“Is that one of the reasons you want to leave here?” Lillie had to ask.
“You have to admit, it’s unsettling to think that an enemy country could nuke us at any time.”
Did he really live with that fear every day? Not everyone had a missile silo in his backyard. But a whole lot of people they knew around here did. “Then I think I should find a way to buy you out and you should leave.”
He looked at her in surprise. “Are you serious?”
“Aren’t you?”
Slowly, he shook his head. “I don’t know what I want. I just feel...antsy.”
That was a feeling she knew well. She’d always blamed it on Trask. She’d lied to herself that she hadn’t been waiting for him all these years.
But after this morning, she wasn’t sure what she wanted. For years she’d wanted Trask. She’d played the fantasy of his return in her head. He would come back and beg her to forgive him, tell her what a fool he’d been, sweep her off her feet and... That was where she would stop imagining his amazing return.
There could be no happy ending. Not with a warrant out for his arrest. Even if there hadn’t been, he’d never wanted to stay in Gilt Edge and run a bar. And she didn’t want to leave. He’d known that. Maybe it was another reason he’d left her waiting that night nine years ago. They’d been at a stalemate. Nothing had changed.
Nothing except for the fact that they weren’t those lovesick twentysomethings anymore. And if Flint got word that Trask was back, it would be only a matter of time before he was behind bars. Would Trask put up a fight? Would it end in gunfire?
She shuddered at the thought.
“You okay?” her brother asked.
“Just a chill,” she said and took another sip of her beer. Through the open window, she could hear the frogs in the creek and the breeze whispering in the pines outside. She loved the peace that fell over the land in this isolated spot after the bar closed.
But tonight they’d closed early because business had been slow. Even so, she had too much on her mind to feel much peace. She finished her beer and got to her feet. “I’m tired. I think I’m going to call it a night.”
Darby was looking at her as if he was trying to read what was really bothering her. “I’m not going to force you into anything on this place. I promise. I’m just talking.”
She nodded, since that was the least worry on her mind right now.
“The old man is probably as fine as he can be, so there is nothing to worry about with him, either.”
Lillie met her brother’s gaze and considered telling him what was really bothering her. What would he suggest she do if she told him that it hadn’t been a bear but Trask she’d seen earlier? Neither of them would call Flint, she assured herself. And yet Darby was more straight-arrow than her and the others. Darby would want nothing to do with harboring a criminal. That much she knew. She told herself she wouldn’t put the bar in jeopardy.
But was she already risking everything by not telling someone about Trask’s visit?
* * *
FLINT HAD SPENT a long day dealing with one small crisis after another, waiting for Anvil to call and say he’d heard from his wife. Now it was late and he realized there was nothing at home to eat.
He was also second-guessing his decision on Jenna Holloway as he pulled into the grocery store lot before it closed for the night. Earlier he’d been hesitant to start treating the Holloway farm like a crime scene. He told himself he would give it twenty-four hours. It was that long before he could put out a missing person’s report on an adult female. That would give Jenna time to have second thoughts and come home.
If she was still alive.
That was what haunted him. By then, Anvil would have had plenty of time to cover his tracks even more than he already had. Flint knew that appearances could be deceiving. Anvil was definitely distraught. It was probably because of their argument, his wife’s infidelity and absence, his guilt for having slapped her. But it could also be because he’d killed her.
He decided as he pushed open the door to the grocery store that he’d put out a missing person’s BOLO on her and her vehicle first thing in the morning. He was still hoping that by tomorrow morning they would have news of her.
Tired, he put a frozen dinner, some eggs and a quart of orange juice into his cart and looked up to see his ex-wife, Celeste. That was the problem with living in such a small town. Fortunately, they somehow avoided each other for months at a time. Just his luck that tonight wasn’t one of those times. He was in no mood for her and the feelings she evoked.
“Flint?”
Her voice alone was enough to bring it all back. Bitter memories tainted the sweet ones from his youth. Celeste was still a stunner, her blond hair cut in a perfect bob that framed a perfectly made-up beautiful face. Diamonds glittered at her throat, her ears, and the big one weighed down her ring finger.
“Celeste.” He noticed that her grocery cart was filled with party food for a crowd. His own was nearly empty, making both it and him seem pathetic.
Her gaze scanned the contents of his cart before returning to him. She confirmed what he already figured she thought of him. The food in his cart practically announced it to the world. Here he was, the poor jilted ex struggling to survive. He wanted to say, “I’m doing just fine. Better than fine. Yes, you hurt me. We hurt each other. But I’m happy enough right now. Except when I run into you.”
Instead, he asked, “How’s Wayne?” and could have mentally kicked himself for it. He really didn’t give a damn how her husband was doing. There were at least two reasons to dislike Wayne Duma. A rancher, philanthropist, all-around good guy, Wayne wallowed in his family’s wealth. Wayne had also been sleeping with Celeste when she was still married to Flint.
“Wayne’s fine. Busy. I try to get him to slow down... We’re having a few people over tomorrow night. As you know, I don’t like waiting until the last minute to shop.” She motioned to her cart, looking as uncomfortable as he felt.
He recalled those late nights she went out for groceries and had really been meeting her future husband. A bitter taste filled his mouth at the memory.
When her green eyes locked with his, he remembered the two of them together, bodies glistening with sweat. It was a memory he would have preferred to forget.
“How are you, Flint?”
“Couldn’t be better.” Even to his ears, it sounded angry.
“I heard you’re seeing someone.” She frowned as if the name hadn’t been on the tip of her tongue. “Midge. No, Maggie. Maggie Johnson, no Thompson.” She smiled as if pleased that she’d remembered.
Flint felt his stomach roil. He didn’t want to talk about Maggie with Celeste, hated that she knew any of his business. But he especially hated that she knew he and Maggie were dating. Crazy as it sounded, he felt he needed to protect Maggie from Celeste, as if his ex might do something to hurt her. He doubted Celeste gave a minute’s thought to either of them.
“I should get going before my dinner thaws.” He’d lost his appetite and wished he hadn’t stopped by the store. But he had no choice now but to head to the front, where the checker appeared anxious to close soon.
Celeste looked