He was tall, as in towering over her, with broad shoulders. Sweat gleamed on his face; and no wonder, given that he had on a dark blue suit, a wilting white shirt, and a tie. When was the last time she’d seen a man in a tie? She couldn’t make out the color of his eyes—green maybe, or hazel? But his rugged, tan face spoke of years being outside, and of worries that lined his forehead. She pegged him as being in his forties, but with his face it was hard to tell. He had gray streaked light-colored hair, so he could be older or younger.
Jason clung a little closer to Bethany and she wanted to yell at Tayra all over again. She untangled Jason’s hand from hers and gave him a small push forward. “It’s okay. Slade knew your mommy. And he knows your daddy.”
She saw Slade’s right hand twitch and then bunch into a fist—and she suddenly knew that Tayra had lied about that, too.
Dammit, Tayra, was Jason the only thing you didn’t fully screw up?
She faced off with Slade. “Tayra never told you…never told Brock, did she?”
Slade’s mouth tightened and thinned. He had a wide mouth with a small crescent scar near one corner. “Tell him what?”
Jason tugged on Bethany’s hand and asked in a hushed voice. “Can’t we go now?”
She put an arm on his shoulder. “Just a minute.” Facing Slade, she said, “Jason’s Tayra’s son. He’s also Brock Wells’ boy.”
Chapter 2
Slade thought of a few curses he’d like to let loose, but he couldn’t—not in front of the kid and not in front of Bethany Simmons.
He hadn’t begrudged Tayra wanting out of her marriage to Brock. It’d torn Brock up, Slade knew—boy had it ever. Brock had always been more like a brother, not an employee. But Slade had seen the problem right away—Tayra had wanted a normal relationship with a nice guy who worked a boring nine-to-five job. She should have married an accountant, not a Navy SEAL who lived for the action.
Slade studied the boy—he kept trying to see Brock in the kid, but he couldn’t find the resemblance. Was this some kind of shakedown? Was Bethany out to scam some money? If she was, she’d picked the wrong target.
He wanted to grill her, but not in front of the kid. “Let’s get that ice cream,” he said. He strode back to the SUV, unlocking it with the key pad button. He opened the passenger door and turned back.
Bethany still stood where he’d left her, her blue eyes huge and her hand still on the boy’s shoulder. Jason was looking up at her.
“Well? Chocolate or vanilla?” Slade asked.
His words seemed to startle Bethany into action. She came forward, Jason’s hand back in hers. “Jason likes Rocky Road.”
“Figures,” Slade muttered. What road wasn’t rocky these days?
He got Jason settled in the back. Bethany slipped into the passenger seat up front and fussed with her seatbelt. Getting in, Slade started the engine and glanced at her. “Where’s this ice cream parlor?”
She gave him directions back to the nearest town. He’d come in from the highway and had missed the main drag, but if you blinked you’d also miss what passed for a town. He spotted a gas station, two churches, a grocery store that sold just about everything, including bait and hunting supplies, and a small drug store, which seemed to double as an ice cream parlor.
Getting out, Bethany helped Jason undo his seatbelt, then lifted him from the SUV.
Slade watched them, still looking for something in the boy that looked like Brock.
His buddy from his SEAL days was a big guy, red headed, with a touch of Viking somewhere in his background. Jason had dark-brown hair, those blue-gray eyes like Tayra’s, and he seemed small for his age, which would have to be about nine if he really was Brock’s kid. Tayra and Brock had gotten divorced almost ten years ago.
The kid also walked funny—as if he had stiffness in one leg. Had he broken it in the past?
Following Bethany into the drug store, Slade glanced around. The assessment habit was automatic these days—you hit a new location, you took in the exits, possible threats, and sized up the locals. In this hick town that wasn’t hard.
An elderly woman with a helmet of gray-blue hair stood behind the counter. A girl of maybe eighteen, with too much garish makeup on her face, leaned against the register, texting on her cell phone. That took care of the staff. He, Bethany, and Jason were the only customers.
Heading to the counter with the ice cream sign, Bethany ordered up a scoop for Jason, a bowl of strawberry, and turned to Slade. He shook his head. “I’ll pass.”
Bethany’s eyebrows rose high and the look in her eyes had his face warming. Okay, they’d come for ice cream, so it seemed everyone was having some.
Nodding at Jason, Slade said, “I’ll have what he’s having.”
Bethany nodded and turned back to the elderly woman behind the counter.
When the woman handed over the ice cream, her voice thickened with sympathy. “So sorry to hear about your sister, dear. I heard the funeral was lovely. Plenty of flowers. Such a hard thing…breast cancer. Took my sister, too. I hope you’re getting regular checks. Runs in the family, you know.”