Buckled (Trails of Sin 2)

“Are you sniffing her panties?” Conor’s whisper drifts from the entrance of the hall.

In an attempt to embarrass her, I hold them up, dangling by a finger, and arch an eyebrow in her direction. “If you think my brother doesn’t smell yours—”

“I know he does.” She strolls toward me and hops up on the dryer. “What are you doing, Jarret?”

The loaded hush of her voice tells me she’s not asking about the laundry.

“I have no idea.” I toss the panties in, push her legs aside to shut the dryer door, and reach around her to power it on. “What do you want?”

“You were gone a while. Jake and I took bets on whether you and the reporter were getting busy. Then he got tired of waiting and went to bed.”

“Who won the bet?”

“I did.” A smile softens her eyes. “She’s not one of your buckle bunnies.”

“No, she’s not.” I turn away and head toward my room.

“If she’s staying, she needs more work clothes.” Conor’s footsteps follow on my heels, down the hall, and into my suite.

“I’m working on it.”

“We both know you don’t shop.” She shuts the door behind her. “Want me to order some clothes? I know a few online stores that—”

“Yes.” I pull a wad of cash from my wallet and hand it to her. “That would be really helpful.”

“Consider it done.” She pockets the money and climbs across my bed to root through the drawer of my nightstand. “Do you still keep your—?” She yanks out the tin box. “Yes!”

“Don’t even think about it.” I snatch the box of weed from her hand and return it to the drawer.

I smoke to mellow the aches and pains of hard labor. When we were younger, Conor used to sneak out and get stoned with me. Until Jake and Lorne found out.

They let me know what they thought of that by rearranging my face.

“Jake’s not the boss of me.” She crosses her arms.

“Try telling him that.”

She makes a growly noise and flops onto the bed. “I talked to Lorne about your house guest.”

“He responded to my email this morning.” I tug off my boots and sprawl on my back beside her. “He wants to meet her.”

“Do you think that’s wise?”

“It’s not like he’ll say anything incriminating. The prison monitors everything.”

“Shh!” She slaps a hand over my mouth and whispers, “What if she planted something in here? She could be listening right now.”

I push her arm away. “She hasn’t had the opportunity.”

“You can’t watch her every second of every day. Aren’t you worried about her spying?”

“No.”

“Jarret, this is important. If I lose another one of you to prison…”

The worry in her voice prompts me to turn on my side and face her. “Her mind doesn’t work like that. I can’t put my finger on it, but I know she’s not as manipulative or conniving as she wants me to believe.”

“What do you mean? Like she’s not a reporter?”

“No. Yes. Fuck, I don’t know. Something led her to my dad. She said it was a lead on another story. That’s plausible, but…”

“But?”

“This feels personal. She’s homeless because… How did she put it? Bad judgment and rotten luck.”

Her green eyes flare. “Do you think she was involved with the moneylenders? Or someone in her family? What if one of those men was her father or brother…?” She gasps. “Oh God, Jarret.”

“Slow down, Watson. It is a capital mistake to theorize in advance of the facts.”

“Was that Sherlock Holmes?” Her gaze flicks to the steel bookshelf, where my favorite childhood books reside.

“Yeah, and the facts are these… She has no siblings or living parents.”

“That’s if she’s telling the truth. Are you listening to your gut or something else?”

“All of it.”

I roll to my back and launch into a rambling diatribe about my conflicting feelings regarding the woman in the other room.

Conor settles in on her stomach. Resting her chin atop her folded hands on my chest, she absorbs every word just like she did whenever I vented about girls in high school.

When I fall quiet, she makes a humming sound.

“What?” I peer down at her.

“She’s going to fall in love with you.”

I release a startled grunt. “That’s not even in the realm of possibilities.”

“If you believe that, I feel sorry for you.”

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re a good guy. A great guy. I know you’ve done things you’re not proud of, but it doesn’t define who you are.”

My stomach cramps. “Abandoning you for six years makes me the worst brother—”

“Jarret.” She lifts her head and grips my t-shirt. “That’s not what I’m talking about. I forgave you for that. Let it go.”

I can’t let it go, but I ruffle her hair until she relaxes on my chest.

If she’s referring to the bodies in the ravine, I don’t feel an ounce of remorse about that. Those men threatened her, and I did exactly what Lorne would’ve done. I protected her at all costs.