The Passing Storm(86)
“Stoneware and a gift certificate to a kitchen store.”
“God bless your mother. She’s elegance personified.” The gun felt heavy in Rae’s hands. A device made for one purpose only—to kill. Quickly, she set it back down. “My dad thought we should buy a gun, after my first confrontation with Penny. I vetoed the idea.”
“I’m overriding your veto. You’ve given me a lot to digest, Rae. I need to think. And I need you to keep the gun until I get everything worked out.”
“If Everett refuses to fire his favorite mechanic, I don’t see what you can do. Further, you don’t have my permission to tell your dad what I shared with you in strict confidence.”
“I wouldn’t discuss this with my father under any circumstance. As for Mik, he’s already lost his job. It took some doing, but I finally got my father to fire him.”
She geared up to ask how he’d managed the feat. The look in Griffin’s eyes quelled her.
Anxiety pinged through her. “What are you planning?” Griffin was a tortoise. Careful, sure to analyze the problem of Mik Galecki from every angle. There was no telling what he was mapping out.
Her phone buzzed.
“I pried Quinn from his bedroom,” Connor announced in a voice loud enough for Griffin to overhear. “Now he’s beating me at poker.”
The lighthearted disclosure made the moment feel surreal. Dragging her attention from the gun, she cleared her throat.
“How’s your tummy, Dad? Are you still regretting the double doses of Italian food?”
“I’m better. The ginger tea helped. I’ve had three cups. What’s keeping you? Me and Quinn need a third for our poker tournament.”
“I’ll be home soon.”
A grin lifted the corner of Griffin’s mouth. Then he gave her a look: Just tell your dad where you are.
On cue, Connor asked, “What sort of errand are you running? You’ve been gone for two hours.”
“Dad, I’m at Griffin’s house.” The silence was deafening. Foolishly, she added, “You remember Griffin Marks. Don’t you, Dad? Well, I’m at his house. Just talking.”
Griffin rolled his eyes.
Connor said, “Should I break out the chocolates or the party hats?” He knew she overdid the chocolate whenever she was sad.
“Definitely the latter.”
“Yeehaw. I might break out the Scotch too.”
“No! Your stomach doesn’t need more excitement tonight.”
“Rae, I hate when you’re bossy.”
As she was hanging up, Griffin fetched her coat. He placed the gun in one pocket and the bullets in the other.
“No arguing.” He guided her arms into the sleeves. “Go home, get some rest. We both need it. I’ll call you tomorrow after I talk to my niece.”
“That would be great. Thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank me, Rae. I’m happy to help.” He brushed a kiss across her lips. “Try not to worry.”
Chapter 31
Snow pattered against the windshield as Rae turned onto the farm’s long, winding driveway.
In the distance, the house was a flickering dot. Behind the snow-crusted dwelling, colorful lights glowed.
Rae’s heart lifted. Mom, are you looking down from heaven? Is Lark with you? Your twinkly lights . . . Dad turned them on for poker night.
The headlights bobbed. Gently, she eased off the gas. In the wet snow, she noticed a new set of tire tracks.
Had Quinn run out for snacks? If he and Connor planned on late-night poker with midnight tacos, she was begging off. Like Griffin, she had a lot to think about. Where to store a gun in the house. Whether or not to share Griffin’s concerns with her father.
Whether she’d have a future with Griffin. Much had changed in two short hours. She needed a good night’s sleep to sort herself out.
She was reaching for the garage door opener when her heart lurched.
Tire tracks rutted the lawn. Rammed against the maple tree, a blue truck glinted in the moonlight.
The door to the house hung open.
The car fishtailed as she slammed on the brakes. It came to a halt. Rae was out and through the living room in seconds.
In the kitchen, playing cards were scattered across the floor. A chair was on its side by the wall. Whoever’d jumped out of their seat, they’d done so in a hurry.
Lying prone near the sink, her father tried to get up.
“Dad!”
A thread of blood ran down his chin. As she heaved him into a sitting position, he winced.
“Dad, are you hurt? Is anything broken?” She wasn’t sure if he could stand.
He pushed her away. “Rae, they’re out back. We heard a racket outside, then Mik stormed into the house—I forgot to lock the door when you left. He beat Quinn awfully bad. I don’t know how the boy got away.”
Frantic, she glanced toward the living room. Her purse was in the car. She’d dropped her phone into her purse.
Teeth chattering, she fell back on her bottom. Dug inside her coat pocket, found the weapon.
Her father paled. “Where’d you get a gun?”
On autopilot, she filled the clip. Snapped it into place, and Connor flinched.
The dog was scrabbling at the mudroom door. Barking and then scrabbling some more, determined to get outside to protect her master. Rae pushed Shelby back. The last thing she needed was a dog injured during the fray.