Grin and Beard It(137)

“You’ll have to punish her for sure.”

I blinked, my gaze cutting to him. “I’m not going to punish her, what are you talking about?”

“Well if she did something to disappoint you, then obviously you’ll have to teach her a lesson.”

“She’s not a child, Cletus. She gets to make her own decisions, do what she thinks is right. If she told those reporters the truth, then obviously . . .”

As I spoke it became clear that Cletus was trying to hide his smile. I studied him and realized he’d been pulling my leg, leading me to the water so I could decide to drink it.

Laughing, I shook my head at him. “You’re an asshole.”

“Yeah.” He shrugged, laughing too. “I am.”

We sat together for a stretch, each lost to our own considerations. I was debating how to go about approaching these news folks. How to engage them and be an asset to my woman. I decided being friendly yet firm was in order. I’d invite them for a chat—not inside the house, the porch would do just fine—I’d introduce myself, ingratiate myself.

I’d make them love me.

“If he tries to hurt you or Sienna, I’ll kill him.”

Cletus’s casual threat pulled me out of my thoughts. I turned to look at my brother. The set of his mouth was grim and his eyes were sharp, almost painfully bright.

“Excuse me?”

“Darrell. He won’t be bothering you or Sienna. Don’t you worry about him. He knows, as long as he’s in prison, I can get to him.”

I gaped at my brother for a full minute, an inferno of hatred behind his eyes and cool determination casting his features in harsh lines. Not a look I’d seen on his face in a very long time.

“Cletus, you’re not a murderer. You wouldn’t do that.”

He gave me a wry smile and turned the ignition, looking like someone I didn’t recognize. “It wouldn’t be murder, big brother. It would be self-defense. Or at least I’d make sure it appeared that way.”

What the . . .?

I could only stare at my younger brother as he pulled out of the parking lot, the earlier icy determination and heated resolve replaced with his usual air of detached peculiarity.

“Should I take the valley road? Or do you think Moth Run would be quicker?” he asked unnecessarily, his tone now easy and affable.

The truth was, I didn’t have time to think about Cletus’s statement right now, or whether he actually had the ability to reach our father in jail and put an end to him, to all his threats. I had a bunch of news people waiting for me at the house and had to put on a good show. I needed to put my energy toward that.

But when this media mess with Sienna resolved, I would have to confront him about it. My family had already lost enough to our father. The man was a plague. A disease. A stain on the memories of our childhood. I knew Cletus had suffered, just like we all had. Although not in the same way, Cletus had lost just as much as me because of Darrell Winston.

But now I wondered what, specifically, Cletus had lost. It must’ve been something substantial to fuel such hatred.

Regardless, it didn’t matter whether my brother thought his actions—or potential future actions—were justified, I couldn’t allow Cletus to lose his soul, too.



I tried Sienna’s phone one more time as we pulled into our driveway. She didn’t pick up.

Even from a distance I could see the front yard littered with strange cars. Media people milling about, holding cameras, smoking cigarettes. I counted five vehicles total: four were local news vans, one looked to be a rental car from the airport. They were on us like fleas on a dog as soon as Cletus parked, calling my name and knocking on the windows of both doors.

“These people are nuts.” My brother locked the doors, gaping at me in horror. “Why are they knocking? What do they think? We’re confused about whether or not they think we should stay in the car? Parasites.”

I smiled at my brother, like I didn’t have a care in the world. “Don’t say anything. Let me do the talking.”

“I won’t say anything. I’ll let you do the talking,” he echoed and removed the key from the ignition. Cletus turned to the faces nearly pressed against the door. He flicked his wrist motioning for them to step back. “Okay, okay, I know you want to speak to my brother. But I can’t get out of the car if you’re blocking my path, genius.”

Meanwhile, I rolled down my window and two microphones were shoved in my face.

“What do you have to say about Sienna Diaz’s announcement earlier today?”

“Does she know about your criminal past?”

“What does your family think?”