Tempest Rising: Episode 1 (Rising Storm) Read online

  It wasn’t until after Celeste left that Marisol remembered Mallory. She flipped the lock on the door and turned back to the counter to see the girl sheepishly rising.

  “I didn’t know what to do. It was all so serious, and I didn’t want to interrupt. I’m sorry I heard everything.” She licked her lips. “I didn’t know Ginny was pregnant. Luis didn’t say.”

  “Don’t blame him. I asked him not to. Not until Ginny was ready.”

  Mallory nodded. “I get that.” She hooked a thumb toward the door. “I should go,” she said.

  “Probably should.”

  She came out from around the counter, the box of cupcakes in her hand. “Um, Marisol? Are you okay?”

  “Sure. I’m fine.” Marisol forced a smile and tried again. “I’m just fine,” she repeated, and wondered if she said it often enough if it would somehow, someway, turn out to be true.

  * * * *

  “Mom!”

  Joanne jumped, startled out of her thoughts. Which, frankly, was a good thing, as she’d been thinking about Dillon since he’d approached her yesterday. And thinking about Dillon was a dangerous thing.

  She put the iron down and leaned sideways so that she could see Dakota as she burst through the front door. “In here!” she called from where she had the portable ironing board set up on top of the kitchen table. She’d told Hector she would be done with all the laundry by the time he got home. He hated it when the kitchen wasn’t tidy and her housework was scattered everywhere.

  But today was hard, as she’d ended up staying at work past closing just to help get all the orders organized and ready for the funeral in two days. She’d been happy to help, but now she was running behind.

  “Look!” Dakota demanded, indicating a nasty brown blob on a white linen shirt.

  “Oh, sweetie. What happened?”

  Her oldest daughter frowned, even as Mallory trotted in from the living area where she’d been playing some very loud video game on the system that Jeffry Rush had lent her. Joanne hated that they couldn’t afford to get Mallory a system of her own, but at least she had a good circle of friends.

  “What’s going on?” Mallory asked.

  “You, take over this,” Joanne said, handing Mallory the iron. She pointed to Dakota. “You, take off the shirt.”

  It would be close, she knew. Mallory wasn’t nearly as fast or as good at ironing, but Joanne wasn’t going to turn Dakota away, especially when the girl so rarely came to her for help, preferring to curl up at Hector’s feet. She’d always been a Daddy’s girl, and that was fine. But sometimes Joanne felt invisible around her daughter.

  Dakota stripped, not the least bit self-conscious. Not that she should be. As a mother, Joanne was proud of how lovely her daughter had turned out. And, as a mother, she often wished that Dakota would keep some of that loveliness hidden beneath more modest clothes.

  Today she was reasonably modest, having obviously come straight from the bank.

  “So why’d you spill?” Mallory asked as Joanne went to the small laundry closet to find some stain remover. “Just clumsy or did you freak when you heard the news?”

  “What news?” Dakota pulled out one of the chairs and sprawled at the kitchen table. Joanne pushed aside a pile of clothes waiting to be ironed and went to work on the shirt.

  “Ginny Moreno is pregnant. And it’s Jacob’s baby.”

  If Joanne hadn’t been looking, she might have missed the quick, horrified expression that crossed Dakota’s face. It was gone in an instant as the girl gathered herself, and Joanne supposed that she really shouldn’t be surprised. Dakota and Jacob had gone out a few times in high school, and though her daughter never talked about boys with Joanne, it had been easy to see that Dakota had been head-over-heels for the boy. So much so that Joanne couldn’t help but wonder if his move to Austin and UT hadn’t been the driving force behind Dakota’s semi-regular diatribes about how she was going to get out of Storm and find a better job in the capital city.

  But whenever Joanne had seen them together, Jacob had always seemed polite and sweet to Dakota, but he’d never given Joanne the impression of a man desperately in love.

  “That’s bullshit,” Dakota said. “They’re buddies. Ginny Moreno is like Jacob’s best guy friend.”

  “Yeah? Well, you’re an idiot, then, because she’s knocked up.”

  “Mallory,” Joanne snapped. “Don’t speak that way to your sister.”

  Mallory grimaced. “Sorry. But Dakota’s being a twit. They were always together. I mean, it’s not hard to do the math.”

  “No fucking way,” Dakota said, grabbing one of Hector’s shirts from the pile of ironed laundry and shoving her arms through the sleeves. “I’m never going to believe those two screwed.”

  “Were you raised in a barn? Watch your language, Dakota Alvarez.”

  “Believe what you want. It’s all true. Ginny’s even going to move into the Salts’ house.”

  Dakota opened her mouth, then closed it again. And though Joanne may have been mistaken, she thought she saw her daughter’s eyes glisten with tears before she leapt to her feet and turned away, ostensibly to stare into the refrigerator.

  “If you’re not getting something out, shut the door,” Joanne said automatically.

  A few moments passed, and then Dakota pulled out a Diet Coke and one of the cupcakes Mallory had brought home.

  She popped the top, then sat back down. “It’s not true,” she said defiantly.

  Mallory shrugged. “Whatever. But I was in Cuppa Joe when Marisol was talking about it to Celeste, and I think Celeste would know.”

  “God, Mal. You can be such a little bitch. Why don’t you just take your—Daddy!”

  Dakota jumped up and Joanne flinched as Hector burst through the screen door behind Joanne. He hugged his daughter, then shot his wife an irritated look even as Mallory put down the iron and slid quietly back into the living room to turn off Assassins Gone Wild or Bloody Zombie Mania or whatever game she’d been playing in there.

  “Christ, Jo.” He held one arm around Dakota’s shoulders, and Joanne was suddenly remarkably, fully, completely happy that her daughter had come by. Right then, she needed the buffer. “I work a long day and have to come home to this shit?”

  He was standing a few feet away, but she could smell the oil and gasoline on his coverall. Along with the beer.

  “Sorry. I was helping Dakota.”

  “Honest, Daddy. I got her all off schedule.”

  “Well, then I guess we’ll have to let this one slide.” He bent to kiss Dakota’s upraised cheek, looking entirely like the loving father and strong, sexy husband that she wanted...and worked so hard to have.

  But he’s not. And people are starting to see that.

  Flustered, she untied her apron, then started to refold the already folded laundry.

  People like Dillon.

  “Mallory!” She forced herself to focus on the house. On getting tidy. On getting dinner.

  Dinner.

  It was her ticket out of this house. This moment.

  “Yes, Mom?”

  “Clear the table and start cutting up some potatoes to boil.”

  “What’s for dinner?” Hector said.

  “A surprise.” She kissed him on the cheek. “But I forgot one thing. I need to run to H-E-B, and then I’ll be right back.”

  She took advantage of the fact that he wouldn’t lose his temper now, not with Dakota clinging to him. She grabbed her purse and her keys and ran the opposite direction out the front door, just so she wouldn’t have to squeeze past her husband to get out the back.

  That meant she had to walk all the way around to get to her car in the driveway, but that was okay. And even though she saw him standing in the doorway looking curious and a little steamed, she didn’t stop. She just got in the car, backed it out, and drove and drove and drove until she was all the way to the outskirts of town.

  Christ, she wasn’t even sure where she was going or what she was do
ing.

  She had to hit H-E-B on the way home, that was for sure. But other than that...other than that she was a mess.

  She tasted salt and realized that she was crying.

  And then she realized that she was just a few blocks from Dillon’s house.

  No, no, no.

  What was she thinking? What was she doing?

  She slammed on the brakes, then just sat in the road, her hands tight on the steering wheel.

  And then she breathed in and out and told herself she was a fool and that she needed to get to the grocery store.

  Somehow, though, instead of ending up at H-E-B, her car ended up outside the big Grossman house. One of the larger mansions on the outskirts of town, it had been bought and paid for back when her dad had raked in some serious money doing contingency work as one of Central Texas’s leading plaintiff’s attorneys.

  Finances had gotten tighter, sure, but the Grossmans were still among the town’s elite.

  Joanne, however, was no longer part of the clan.

  She sat on the road in her shabby Oldsmobile and thought about everything she’d given up and the man she’d given it up for. He loved her. She knew it. He just had a temper. And she just always seemed to be triggering it. But if she could just do better...

  She needed to be more understanding. More helpful. More calming.

  With a sigh, she started to put the car back into gear. But the door opened, and she saw her mother, Debbie, hurrying down the sidewalk toward her, looking perfectly coiffed despite probably spending the entire day inside.

  “Sweetheart,” she said once she’d hurried across the street and Joanne had rolled down the window. “What are you doing here?” She kept her voice a whisper. As if Robert Grossman could hear every little thing said in his corner of the world. “Is everything okay?”

  “Sure, Mom. Everything’s great. I was just—I don’t know. Melancholy, I guess.”

  “Do you want me to meet you somewhere?”

  Joanne pressed her lips together and shook her head. She wanted to go in and sit at the table she’d sat at so often as a child. But she wasn’t welcome inside anymore.

  “So, can I ask—I mean, Daddy did some bad stuff, right? I mean, he hurt you. A lot. When he walked away from me, I mean. And with him ignoring my kids. Pretending like none of us exist.”

  Deborah nodded slowly, a little hesitantly. “He did. He hurt me a lot. He hurt both of us.”

  Joanne licked her lips. “But you’re still with him.”

  “Well, I love him. I love you, too, baby. That’s why I still see you, even though I know it would make your father angry.”

  “But he was wrong. He just shut me out, and that was horrible.”

  Her mother sighed, her eyes full of torment. “What he did was wrong, but I understand why he did it. Joanne, if this is about Hector...” She trailed off with a shake of her head. “We both know he drinks too much. And you can say what you want, baby, but you were never a clumsy girl.”

  “He loves me, Mom. And he’s never hurt me. Not really.”

  But her protests were no use. She could see in her eyes that Deborah didn’t believe her.

  Worse, Joanne was starting to wonder if she even believed it herself.

  Chapter Ten

  Ginny stood by the brass plaque that designated the magnificent Rush Mansion as a National Historic Registry home and wondered what the hell she’d been thinking.

  At the time, it had seemed perfectly reasonable to tell Marisol that she’d go pick up Luis from Jeffry’s house. Even though Jeffry’s house also happened to be Senator Rush’s house. In Ginny’s apparently pregnancy-addled brain, she’d thought that because she was so totally over him that it wouldn’t be completely insane to be in his house. To possibly bump into him.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid, and she blamed her raging idiocy on her hormones. She didn’t want to see him. She didn’t want to talk to him.

  And what the hell would she say if he asked about the baby?

  She told herself to calm down. He wouldn’t say anything. For that matter, no one was saying anything.

  If people knew she was pregnant—which they must, because this was Storm and it was like gossip central—they were keeping quiet. At least around her.

  Frankly, she was glad. And she figured that was about the only perk of being in the accident, too. So long as she still had the bandage on her cheek and forearm, she was probably safe from the gossip mill.

  And goodness knew the senator would keep quiet, too.

  “Miss Ginny!” Carmen, the Rush’s housekeeper, opened the door and ushered her inside. “I am so glad to see you looking so well.” Carmen had moved to Storm from Laredo when Jeffry was a baby, and so Ginny had known her almost her whole life, as she’d been in the park with Jeffry whenever Ginny was there with Luis.

  “Thanks, Carmen,” she said, stepping inside and accepting the matronly woman’s bone-crushing hug. “I’m supposed to fetch Luis home. Marisol went all out with the cooking.”

  “Well, good for her. She’s got a knack for pastries, I must say.”

  “She’s good with a steak, too. And she splurged on ribeyes.”

  “Well, then we do need to get you home. Come on. Come on.”

  Ginny knew the house well. Brittany Rush was one of her closest friends, and she’d been in the Rush house hundreds of times. Being here now gave her a little pang because usually Jacob was with them. She wished that Brit were back from Austin, but her parents had made her stay at school to finish out finals. Brit had been pissed as hell, and they’d cried on the phone together, but in the end, Sebastian and Payton had won out.

  Ginny understood that Brit couldn’t toss aside a full year of college—really she did—but she longed to have her friend by her side. Especially now. In this house. His house.

  With a sigh, she followed Carmen through the foyer with its vaulted ceiling and dark colors, past the living room, and then into the massive game room filled with everything from old-fashioned freestanding video games to an electronic descending screen for the massive projection entertainment center now displaying a wild car chase.

  Jeffry looked up from the game controls, then nudged Luis. On screen, Luis’s Ferrari spun out of control and crashed into a concrete barrier. “Hey! Oh—Ginny. We gotta go?”

  “Sorry.”

  Luis stood up and shrugged. “It’s okay.”

  Ginny almost smiled. Despite everything, it amused her how conciliatory her little brother was to her lately. And all she’d had to do was lose her best friend and have her life turned upside down.

  Stop it.

  They followed Jeffry back toward the front door, and as they were walking, Senator Rush stepped out of his office, calling for Carmen. “Oh—Jeffry. I didn’t realize you had company.”

  “Ginny just came to pick up Luis.”

  The senator inclined his head. “Ginny. I’m so glad to see you’re looking well after your accident. Horrible tragedy. Horrible.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said, managing to unclench her jaw. The man wasn’t even looking her in the eye. He was looking at a spot just over her ear. And he had that fake politician expression of concern.

  Asshole.

  “My wife will be sorry she missed you.” Was it her imagination, or had he overemphasized the word wife? “She was asking your brother earlier how you were doing.”

  “Please tell Mrs. Rush I’m doing pretty good, all things considered.” She forced a pleasant smile. “Luis, we really should get home. Marisol’s waiting.”

  Senator Rush didn’t even say good-bye. He just turned back the way he’d come and disappeared into his office.

  Only when they were in the car did Ginny breathe regularly.

  “You okay?”

  “He just makes me nervous. Senator Fancy Pants.”

  “Yeah,” Luis said. “You and Jeffry both.”

  “Really? Jeffry’s scared of his dad?”

  “Scared? I dunno. Intimidated, I guess. Not
much of a dad, you know.” He dragged his fingers through his curly black hair. “I think about Mom and Dad sometimes when I’m over there with the senator and Mrs. Rush. I mean, I miss them so much. And I think they would have been awesome parents. Not intimidating like your Senator Fancy Pants.”

  “He’s not my senator,” Ginny said firmly as she started the car.

  And he wasn’t going to be her baby’s either.

  * * * *

  Dillon approached it like a case.

  Joanne was a victim.

  He was the investigating officer.

  And goddammit, he was going to investigate, which he did with gusto.

  He went first to talk to Joanne’s sister, and he stood like a true Texan in the barn while Hannah performed a well-check on a pregnant cow out at Zeke’s ranch. That, frankly, was a first for him.

  “Look, Sheriff, I know the score and so do you. But neither one of us has proof, and Joanne’s not going to be any help there. And I get that. I’ve read the articles about women in abusive relationships. But I don’t know what to do. How to help her. I mean, I thank God she’s never had a broken bone—but I’m certain he slaps her around, and I know he treats her like his little wife-bitch. Sorry. It just pisses me off.”

  “It pisses me off, too.”

  She stepped away from the cow, her boots making a sucking noise as she moved through the muck. She wiped her palms on her jeans. “Honestly, I feel as useless as I do when I’ve got an animal I have to put down. I want to help, but I don’t know how.”

  Dillon nodded. “Be there for her. Pay attention. And keep a record of what you see. And you tell me. If you see him raise a hand to her, you tell me.”

  He was certain she would. Hannah Grossman loved her sister, but like so many family members of abuse victims, she didn’t want to believe it was really happening, and if she did believe, she wasn’t sure what to do about it.

  Dillon believed.

  Dillon knew.

  And whether she wanted him to or not, Dillon was going to help Joanne.

  He got back in his cruiser and left the ranch, speeding down the winding county road with the oaks and barbed wire lining the path, and cows and goats and horses grazing on the green summer grass that would turn brown in the Texas heat soon enough.