Keeping What's His: Tate (Porter Brothers Trilogy 1)

“Walk outside with me.” He took her hand, pulling her behind him as he went outside. “It’s going to be all right.”

Sutton pointed at his black eye. “They’re not going to believe you. They’re going to still be mad about the fight last night, and with their cousin being dead a few hours later … They just aren’t going to believe you.”

“I’ll make them believe me. They both know one thing about the Porters: we’re not cowards. I stand a better chance convincing them we had nothing to do with Kyle’s death if I stare them in the eye and tell them the truth.”

“Will you at least call Knox and tell him where you’re going?”

“That, I can do.”

“I’m going to be worried sick until you get back.”

“Then keep yourself occupied. Clean the …”

Sutton’s eyes narrowed. “Choose your next words carefully.”

Tate, unlike Greer, wasn’t a stupid man. “Find something you want to do to keep yourself occupied.”

“I’ll call Cheryl and have lunch with her. She’s been calling, and I’ve been putting her off. I can pick up some flood lights while I’m in town.”

“What made you change your mind about the flood lights?”

“The killer. He’s taking everyone out in the dark.”

Tate frowned. “You’re right; all the attacks are happening during a certain time of night.”

Sutton nodded. “He doesn’t want to be seen.”

“Either that or he’s busy during the day.” Tate placed his hand on the nape of her neck, pulling her close. “Borrow Holly’s car to drive into town. I’ll fix yours tonight.”

“So, you’re admitting to disabling my car?”

Tate gave her a quick kiss. “I’m a Porter; I never admit to a thing.”

* * *

Sutton waited patiently for Cheryl at King’s restaurant. There was a large group of women sitting at one of the tables in the bar. Their loud laughter was being ignored by the owner of the restaurant. She understood why when he went to the table and talked to one of the beautiful women. It was obvious by the closeness between them that they were a couple.

Cheryl came rushing in, sitting down across from her. “Sorry I’m late. The store’s busy.”

Another round of laughter had Cheryl looking over at the group of women. Sutton wondered if they were eating as much as they were using the opportunity to gossip.

Cheryl’s shoulders dropped as she gave the waitress her order.

“Something wrong?” Sutton asked after the waitress left.

“Those are the wives of The Last Riders’. The redhead is Evie. She’s the owner’s wife.”

“So? Don’t you get along with them?”

“No.”

“I recognize Lily and Beth Cornett and Winter Simmons. From what I remember about them, I can’t imagine them being hateful toward you.”

Cheryl shrugged, avoiding her gaze. “I was kind of mean to a couple of them when I went through my divorce.”

“I’m sure they understand it was a difficult time for you.”

“I was with Cash.”

Sutton was crushed for Rachel. “He slept with you after he and Rachel were married?”

“No … no. Before.” Cheryl looked miserable at the admission.

“You were with Tate, too.”

“Yes.”

“I’m sitting here with you, and I still consider you my friend.”

“You always were a sucker,” Cheryl said, tears brimming in her eyes.

“No, I discovered good friends are hard to come by.”

Cheryl smiled at her in relief.

They ate their lunch, and it was when they finished and were leaving that Sutton noticed Cheryl wince as she opened the door to the restaurant for them to exit.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I lifted a heavy box at work and must have strained something.”

Sutton stopped dead in her tracks, critically looking Cheryl over.

“Don’t lie to me.” Sutton reached out to touch a barely noticeable bruise on her jawline.

Cheryl took a step back from her touch. “I fell the other night when I drank too much …”

Sutton remembered the excuses all too well. She broached the subject carefully, the way she wished someone had taken the time to do with her.

“Cheryl … I know what it looks like when someone is hurting you.”

Immediately, Cheryl went on the defensive. “Don’t be crazy, Sutton. I’d call the sheriff if someone touched me …”

“I know,” Sutton stressed.

Cheryl didn’t understand what Sutton was trying to tell her until Sutton grabbed her hand, preventing her from continuing to walk.

“I know, Cheryl. I. Know.”

Cheryl stopped, comprehension finally dawning, and she held Sutton’s hand tighter.

“You were abused by your husband?”

“For over ten years,” Sutton admitted without embarrassment. It was Tate who had finally suceeded in convincing her she had been a victim. It was her chance now to pass along the same gift to Cheryl.

“It was my fault. I shouldn’t have been flirting while I was working.”

It sickened Sutton at the excuses men made to hurt women, convincing them they were the cause of their own pain.

“Listen to me, Cheryl. Nothing you did would give him the right to lay a hand on you.”

“I need the job.” Another excuse. Sutton remembered the many she had made for Scott, but she had never given herself one reason for why she should put up with the torture she had tolerated.