HUCK:The Montana Brothers(19)

"Oh my God," I said, not knowing how else to respond to the presence of  Dobbs Braddock in Whitmer. This was my worst nightmare come to fruition.

"Thousand bucks ain't gonna get anybody around here to give you up,  don't worry about that. And we ain't sending you out to the mountains to  live with Bo, either."

I know Huck was trying to calm me down, but I was suddenly terrified.

"He's not going to give up, Huck. He sees me as his property. He's  determined to marry me. He's desperate. His family business is failing,  he's propped up on loans he can't repay, and just hanging on until he  can get his hands on my money. Until I can get my hands on it, so he can  take it for himself, really."                       
       
           



       

"That's not happening, Belle," Huck answered, and I was inclined to  believe him. Even though the hope may have been false, I needed  something to cling to.

"How could he possibly have found me here?" I wondered aloud.

Huck shrugged. "GPS on your car, maybe. Or through your credit cards.  Who knows? Fact of the matter is that he's here, and not for a social  call, am I right?"

"No, he means to return to Kentucky with me, no doubt about it. Otherwise, he's got nothing to go back to."

Huck stared at me a long while, formulating a plan. He kissed me on the  mouth softly, then harder when I responded. "Let's go down to the bar  and meet this fella, Dobbs. See if we can't come to terms."

I trembled inside at the thought of seeing Dobbs again. Or of him seeing  me again. And definitely not the kind of tremble I felt while I watched  Huck stand up and walk over to his pile of discarded clothing. He  pulled up his jeans, still shirtless. His body drove me crazy.

"Belle, I'll take care of this. We'll head over now; you'll wait in the  office. This Dobbs and I will have a …  conversation. Okay?"

Somehow, watching Huck get dressed was even sexier than watching him  undress. He pulled a black t-shirt down over his chest, stretching to  accommodate his biceps and chest. He pulled a flannel shirt on over it  and sat down to complete the ensemble with his boots.

"He won't be alone, Huck. Some bad men work for him."

"Some bad men are related to me, darlin'," Huck said. "As much as I hate  to say it, you ought to throw some clothes on. I'll call Rick on the  way and have him get a hold of Dobbs, tell him to come on back, that he  might have a lead on your whereabouts."

Thirty minutes later, I sat in the office of The Side Pocket, just off  the bar. The door was left open so I could hear what was happening  outside, and from where I sat, in the dark, I had a direct line of sight  on Huck, but they assured me that nobody would be able to spot me.  Albert sat in the office nearby, my last line of defense.

Rick was behind the bar. Hayes sat in a booth with his shotgun on the  table, under a jacket. The barrel was pointed toward the empty barstool  next to Huck. Hunt was in his truck a quarter mile down the road, our  eyes and ears for anyone coming or going. A few regulars were scattered  throughout, oblivious to everything but their drinks, their games of  pool, and the waitresses' legs.

When I saw Dobbs walk in, I wanted to take the gun from Hayes and shoot  him dead where he stood. He had that smarmy look on his face, a  five-hundred-dollar haircut and sport coat over a t-shirt and jeans.  Dobbs looked just like I remembered him, small-town politician slick,  country club posh, with a healthy dose of condescension for all. I could  scarcely imagine how much he hated being in a place like The Side  Pocket or a town like Whitmer. Not a golf course for hundreds of miles.  He was trailed by two goons, one white and one black, not a neck between  the two of them. Whereas Dobbs was all used-car-salesman saccharine  smile, his two henchmen were ‘roid rage angry and wore it on their  scowling faces.

"Hello, Mr. Braddock, this here's Huck. He might be able to help you with your search. Can I get you boys anything to drink?"

Dobbs scanned the shelves behind Rick. "Don't have a bottle of Old  Delford hidden back there, do you? The distillery is in my family. It's  all I drink."

In. His. Fucking. Dreams. I'd die before Dobbs Braddock owned even a blade of grass on the land where our distillery sat.

Rick shook his head. "Nope, don't carry it."

"If you're able to help me find who I'm looking for, I'll have a case  sent up here. These old boys won't know what hit ‘em," Dobbs smiled.  What a fucking snake he was.

"I'll hold you to that, mister," Rick replied.

The thugs with Dobbs took up posts, one near the door and the other closer to Dobbs, both facing away from the bar, arms folded.

Dobbs extended a hand and sat down on the stool next to Huck. Huck  ignored the proffered hand, and Dobbs awkwardly let his fall to the bar  top.

"I guess around here the proper greeting would be ‘howdy', no? Howdy,  I'm Dobbs Braddock. I'm looking for this young lady," Dobbs handed Huck a  blown up picture of me that I recognized from my family's lake house. I  was smiling. Happier times, before Dobbs revealed his true nature. "And  Mister Rick here tells me you might be able to help. There's a thousand  dollars in it if you can. Cash money."

Huck held the picture in two hands, staring at it a while.

"She sure is purty," Huck said, in a drawl I knew was exaggerated.                       
       
           



       

"Have you seen her?" Dobbs asked, hopefully.

"I might have. I'm not sure. My memory can be a little fuzzy."

Dobbs snapped his fingers, and the man standing nearer to him turned and  pulled an envelope from his pocket, handing it to Dobbs. Dobbs pulled  two hundred dollar bills out and set them on the bar. "Does this help  jog it any?"

"Well, maybe a little bit. Yeah, I've seen her. Sure have."

"Where might that have been, cowboy?" Dobbs was growing agitated.

"Besides the passenger seat of my truck, you mean?" Huck asked, a twinkle in his eye.

"Listen, Hick, Huck, whatever your name is, this might all be a joke to  you, but if I don't get the answers I'm looking for, I'll have federal  marshals in here, the ATF, and whoever else it takes to crush whatever  small-town dreams you and the people in this bar and in this town  harbor. Do you understand me, or should I use smaller words? Maybe draw  it in crayon?"

Dobbs had the familiar flush in his neck and cheeks, the color red  deepening as his voice raised in both decibels and octaves. I began to  shake at the memory of it. I'd seen that same face the night he'd beat  me for the last time.

Huck never even looked at him, he just examined the picture of me he held in his hands.

"You know, Mister Dobbs, you've got your nose turned up so high I think you might drown if it started raining outside."

Dobbs crumpled the hundred dollar bills in his fist and shoved them in his pocket.

"Last chance, you little punk. Or Amos and Lucky here start breaking  things. Starting with you," Dobbs motioned to his pair of large  associates.

Huck was unperturbed, but he did set the picture down and turn to face Dobbs. "Which one of these scholars is Lucky?"

The black guy closer to the door turned and strode over toward Huck.

"Me, bitch," he snarled.

"Looks like your luck just ran out." Hayes approached the men from behind brandishing his shotgun. They never saw him coming.

Dobbs laughed. "So, what, you're going to shoot us and dump our bodies  out in the mountains somewhere? Or do you have a hole out back? You  backwards, inbred motherfuckers. You have no idea who my family is. Who I  am."

"Oh, I have a pretty good idea who you are," Huck said, rising to his  feet. Rick had a pistol trained on the burly men with Dobbs, and they  stood back to back, staring down their armed assailants.

"Stop me when I'm wrong. You're a guy who's never worked a day in his  life, who thought he hit the lottery, financially and otherwise, when  you managed to get in tight with Belle Delford. You've managed to wine,  dine, and snort your way through whatever money your family once had, so  getting your hands on Belle's inheritance seemed like a pretty good  deal, right? Only problem was, Belle's a beautiful woman. And a  beautiful woman deserves to be loved and respected. Hell, all women do.  But you couldn't love her, could you? You only love two things. Money  and the guy you see in the mirror. So it makes sense that you couldn't  get it up with her. I mean, I can't imagine it, but hey, maybe you have a  medical condition. No shame in that. So you started sneaking around, I  guess trying to see if maybe another woman could cure you. And when  Belle found out, instead of begging her forgiveness, you smacked her  around. Any of this sounding familiar?"