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

Sutton sighed. “I was afraid of that. I still want to put it on the market. Maybe, if the price is right, someone will be tempted to take on whoever’s been using my land illegally.”

“The only ones I can think of who might be willing to buy that stretch of land are the Porters. They’re strong and mean enough to handle whoever it is, and they certainly won’t care about who it will piss off.”

“I agree. If not, then some other buyer may come forward. Would you be interested in helping me sell my grandfather’s home?”

He gave her an assured smile. “I never turn down money. I’ll do the paperwork and stop by your house later this week to take pictures to put online.”

“That works for me. Thank you.” Sutton rose from her chair.

Drake stood, putting his hand out. “It was good seeing you again, Sutton.”

“You, too.” She released his hand after shaking it, relieved to escape his office. The man had become even more sexually attractive than he had been in high school.

Back then, he’d had a steady girlfriend. From the absence of a wedding ring on his finger, Sutton surmised he wasn’t married, and she wasn’t anxious to spend any time alone with the man. She wasn’t the innocent girl who didn’t recognize a man who was obviously used to playing the field. She had been down that road twice in her life, and she wasn’t stupid enough to travel it again. Twice was already more than enough. One had left her heartbroken, and the second had nearly killed her.

Sutton stopped to pick up a few groceries before driving home, relieved the store hadn’t been busy and she hadn’t come face-to-face with any old acquaintances.

As she drove home, she passed several police cars. They must have been searching the back roads for Tate. She also noticed one pull out of Tate’s driveway.

She flipped on her blinker, turning onto the private driveway that led to Pap’s home. If she made many more trips to town, she was going to have to trade her rental car in for an SUV. Instead of updating the kitchen, she would probably do better paving the gravel driveway.

She parked the car next to the house to make it easier to pack in the groceries. Grabbing several bags, she carried them to the door, tugging the keys from out of her jean pocket. When she went to slide the key into the lock, the door came open a few inches.

Sutton swallowed the fear in her throat. She was sure she had locked her door before she had left that morning. Her eyes caught on a single drop of blood on the door handle. She started to take a step back, only to freeze when she felt someone’s chest against her back. Terror let a small scream escape when she felt herself shoved forward into the house.

“Shut up. I don’t know how many cops are still in the woods, searching for me.” Tate’s harsh voice sent relief flooding through her.

She angrily jerked around to face him, ready to blast him for scaring the hell out of her. However, the angry retort she was about to yell at him died on her lips when she saw the condition he was in.

“What happened to you?”

Tate grimaced, picking up a dish towel she had left laying on the counter. “I was stabbed.”

“By whom?”

“Beats the shit out of me. When I heard someone shooting last night, I went to see what was going on, and I found Lyle with the back of his head blown off. When I tried to call Knox, someone knocked me out. When I came to, I had a knife in my chest and was lying next to Lyle with a shotgun in my hand I didn’t recognize, and mine was gone, so I got the hell out of there as fast as I could.”

Tate leaned heavily against the counter, his hand leaving a bloody palm print.

“Why didn’t you stay and tell the sheriff?”

Tate gave her a look that plainly said he doubted her intelligence. “I don’t know. Maybe it was because that fucker had a restraining order against me. With a shotgun with my prints all over it, I don’t plan on being one of those dumb fucks who spends years in prison, trying to prove his innocence.”

Sutton set her groceries on the counter, careful to make sure they were away from the blood. Then she took out her phone, but Tate jerked it from her hand.

“Who in the fuck do you think you’re calling?”

“Give that back. You need an ambulance.”

“Didn’t you hear a word I just said? I am not going to prison. I didn’t kill that piece of shit.”

“You can tell the sheriff what happened—”

Tate snorted. “Do you think they’re going to believe me? Everyone in town knows I hated that drunk. I’m not going anywhere until I find out who set me up.”