Worth Any Risk

Ch. 10 Dust

*Cole

She drives off, leaving me to choke on dust. Never contact her again? How am I supposed to accept that kind of goodbye? I want to punch something and besides Javier, who was always a good friend, there is only Brandon, who was always an asshole.

Which makes me wonder what Javier is doing with him. Company must be scarce in town—more people have left than I imagined, maybe.

Ask them about Trey...

She said to ask about Trey, the fellow asshole in Brandon's circle of jock friends. I beat up a bunch of them in my time, and got beat up a couple of times, too. But I never had much to do with Trey.

He was dating a fake blonde when I dropped out of school. A shy, quiet girl with fabulous curves...

No. Fuck me.

"Hey, man, come back to me. Tell me more about this classic car renovating you do. My dad has a sweet '79 Chevrolet that could use some love," Javier says. He hands me a warm beer from the back seat of the beat-up Taurus and I pop the tab.

"My business is hopping. I'd love to take a look at her, we should hook up tomorrow." I take a swig and force the liquid down. "So what about everyone else? I haven't seen anyone, just bumped into..." Shit. I still don't even know her name. My brunette—the girl, the blonde girl with Trey. What is her name? I motion idiotically at where her car had been.

"Jordan?" Brandon asks. "Pretty lucky bump. Not many people drive this way late at night."

"Except all of us," I point out. Damn. This guy was an asshole. "She said she was out driving to clear her head. Where is everybody else? Didn't Jordan date that guy...was it Trey?"

Brandon grunts and clears his throat to spit. Javier chokes on his beer. He wipes his chin with the back of his hand and kicks the gravel for a second.

"Yeah, they got married and stuff, but it was some bad business."

"How so?" I ask.

Brandon opens his second beer. "She might look good and tasty, Cole, but don't be fooled. That woman is a class A bitch."

It takes everything in me not to bash in his head right that second. Javier must have suspected something because he walks in front of me as if strolling past to get closer to the camper. He catches my eye as he goes and hitches his head for me to follow.

"It's not clear what really happened," Javier says. "A few years back, they had a kid, a little girl. One day, out of the blue, Trey started telling people she hit the kid in secret and was sleeping around. He was telling everyone the same story. Then a few days later, he disappeared."

"And the girl?" I ask, sicker with rage by the second.

"He took her. The police searched and set up a reward, but they never found him. It's been about three years. For a couple of weeks, the story was all over the news. I'm surprised you didn't hear about it. Like I said, it was bad business. She' been really quiet ever since. I've never seen her cause any problems."

Brandon scoffs, tossing back his head. "She had her fun. That woman decided she didn't like having to take care of a baby, so she slept with anyone who had a dick until Trey could take it anymore."

I move for him, but Javier sidesteps to stop me. "He's a dip-shit, ignore him."

"I'm a dip-shit?" He slings his bottle of beer into the ditch. "She ran off a good guy and got everyone on her side about it with her crying on TV and shit. I don't believe a word."

My sight narrows to Brandon and I lunge.

Javier shoves me back. He points at Brandon. "Man, you haven't had a single friend since Trey took off."

"Fuck you. You wanna stay out here tonight with your new boyfriend, fine." Brandon shrugs and stomps off. His car door slams and a second later, he takes off, sending a cloud of black exhaust and dust in our faces.

Javier coughs, waving it away.

"Why are you hanging with him?" I ask.

"Because my car is in the shop and I wanted to find you. I heard you were in town. Kevin, at the gas-station, saw a couple of cars drive out this way, so we figured you might be here."

"Fuckin' hell. I can't take a piss in this place without someone knowing which tree was watered."

"Pretty much."

He claps my shoulder. "Damn, it's good to see you again. It's been too long."

"Agreed. Listen, let me drive you home and we can get together tomorrow for a beer over your dad's Chevy."

"Yeah. Let's do that."

We head for my camper. On the way to his house, I keep the conversation going as if nothing is wrong. My head won't stop coming back to what happened to Jordan. A kid. A kidnapped kid. I understand that haunted, hunted look, now. Pretty good chance that kidnapping her daughter wasn't the only thing evil he did to her before he took off. No wonder she jumps at everything that moves. This changes everything. Javier climbs out at his place.

I roll down my window. "One last thing. I need to thank Jordan for her help, do you know where she lives?"

***

At the end of the long drive through the tangled stand of trees, Jordan's house is dark. There's a car port near the porch with a dusty, old Ford in it, but no closed garage and no sign of her car. Either she isn't here, or she parked in the trees somewhere. I shouldn't be here in any case. She told me not to ever try to contact her again, and it's nearly midnight and I'm staking out her house, looking for her.

I'm torn, knowing life has kicked her in the gut and knocked her down, and also that she doesn't want my help. But fucking hell, I want to fix this for her—I want to fix her whole life. I still want to ask her to leave with me. And maybe it will help, if she agrees to go with me. But would we be forever? Can I make those kinds of promises, after knowing her for two days? No. I can't.

And yet I want to try.

I hesitate, idling the camper in her drive for a few minutes, arguing uselessly with myself. Turning the situation over and over. The root of the problem is Trey. How could a man do that to his wife and child?

The answer is simple—a real man wouldn't. Not ever. Sure, sometime marriages go bad, people change, but no man would kidnap his child, stealing her from her mother.

If I could fix that...but I can't. I don't have a clue where he would have gone or where he is now.

A thought burrows its way through my mind, the memory of a man I knew long ago. We are laughing in the memory, sharing a bottle of whisky. He has a cigarette and a tattoo of four aces on the inside of his wrist. I shake it off. That was nearly ten years ago, that guy wouldn't be able to help me. Besides, he's probably in prison.

Outside, the crickets chirp loudly and night animals scurry. I should go to the hotel. If she comes home and I'm in her drive, she'll call the cops, and who would blame her?

I rev the engine and maneuver the narrow space to turn around. I leave my window down as I drive, letting in the chill air and noises. I consider stopping at the gas station for a bottle of something, then remember that Kevin reported my movements to Brandon earlier that evening. That's the kind of small-town mentality I prefer to avoid.

I pull into the hotel parking lot and start climbing the side stairs to my rooms. At the top of the stairs, in the shadows, someone is sitting, watching me, huddled into a small ball.

I tense, ready for a fight, until she lifts her face higher. Dark hair spills away from her forehead to her shoulders. Jordan.

I take the last few stairs two at a time and pull her to her feet and into my arms.

She's crying.

"Shhh, baby, shhh. I know. They told me. Baby, I'm so sorry." She ducks her head as I lead her. After a quick glance at the parking lot to make sure no one is watching, I usher her into my room. If she trusts me like this, enough to come here and wait for me, then I would rather die than break that faith.

*** Thanks for reading!!! Stay safe and healthy ((hugs)) ***