Salvation in the Sheriff's Kiss(62)

The idea of returning home to work with his father, knowing now who he was and what he’d done, sickened him. He couldn’t do it. Nor did he have any intention of turning in his badge and leaving this town at the mercy of people like his father.

There had to be another way, but for the life of him, he could not think of one. Yet.

“Fine. But if I do this then Meredith leaves Salvation Falls and no one bothers her again. Got it?”

“I’ll do what I can,” Vernon said, but the lack of conviction in his father’s voice crawled over his skin like a blanket of ants. “Now why don’t you let yourself out? I believe you have some town council members to speak to.”

Hunter stepped away from the desk and headed to the door. He stopped where his father stood and pressed a finger into Vernon’s sunken chest. “If anything happens to her, I’m coming back for you.”

“If anything happens to her, you have only yourself to blame.”

Vernon’s words nipped at his heels as left the house. He hesitated a brief moment on the other side of the door and stared at the drifts of snow the wind had blown up overnight.

His hand went to the deep pocket in his sheepskin jacket and pressed against the hard outline of the ledger he’d slipped in there before Vernon had entered the room. His father could hide or destroy the others if he wanted, but Hunter was not walking away empty-handed.

He mounted his horse and pressed his heels in, bringing his mount to a swift gallop. The betrayal his father suggested left a hollow pit in his gut that grew larger the closer he came to town. Let his father think he’d been cowed by his threats. If it bought him some time to figure a way out of this mess then he’d play the part of the obedient son. But he’d keep digging. He wasn’t giving up. The meeting wasn’t until this evening. Maybe, just maybe, the old notebook in the file cabinet at the office would give up its secrets. Perhaps what he knew now would make the words on the pages look different. It was a long shot, but it was the only one he had. He’d exhausted every other avenue.

And he knew without a doubt, if he was going after the Syndicate, he had better have enough ammunition before he pulled the trigger.

He wouldn’t get a second shot.





Chapter Sixteen

“The judge will be arriving soon,” Meredith said, the chess game in front of her forgotten. It had been a lost cause. Her concentration was not in it. Her nerves were tangled into knots over this evening’s meeting. “You’re running out of time, Bill.”

She glanced over at Hunter who was sifting through paperwork on his desk, silently imploring him to look up and help. But whatever he was looking at had him thoroughly engrossed.

“Judge was bound to arrive sooner or later,” Bill said, reaching through the bars and pointing at one of her pawns. “You can move that one over here.”

She did as he suggested without studying the board to determine why. She didn’t care. Right now, all she cared about was convincing Bill to hire himself a good lawyer. Even if that lawyer was Wallace Platt.

“It has been said on numerous occasions that I could charm the feathers straight off a bird.” Mr. Platt had entered the office only five minutes before, eliciting a dark glare from Hunter, the only time he looked up from his desk. The gentleman lawyer wasted no time pulling up a chair to the small table where she and Bill were playing chess and began listing each and every attribute he possessed, whether it pertained to his lawyering or not. By the end of the five minutes Meredith was exhausted from listening to him, but if it convinced Bill to hire him, or Bertram for that matter, she would bite her tongue.

She leaned forward, the edge of the small table set between them pressing into her. “Please, Bill. Perhaps you should avail yourself of Mr. Platt’s services. Or at the very least, speak to Bertram. I’m sure he’d be willing to—”

Bill shook his head. “Bertram’s done enough for me. And I can’t pay him. My money’s tied up elsewhere.” How much money Bill had Meredith had no way of knowing. He owned no property that she was aware of, had never settled in any one place for long. The sum of his possessions filled two saddlebags with room to spare.

“Then it only makes sense that you take me up on my offer, Mr. Yucton, as my services come free of charge.”

“Well, that ain’t quite the truth, now, is it?” Bill gave Mr. Platt a hard stare and held it until the other man squirmed in his chair. It did not bode well, in Meredith’s estimation, that the lawyer could be so easily rattled. Perhaps the abilities he spoke of only existed in his own mind.

Hunter’s chair scraped across the hardwood, cutting into the conversation. He walked across to the stove and stoked the fire, the sound of his boot heels striking the floor and echoing through the office area. When he was done, he came over to their small group and leaned against the bars of Bill’s cell. The man made lounging look like a bona fide art form and she could not help but react to it. Heat flushed her body and it took her a moment to recollect her thoughts.