Chapter 8
The heavy tread of a boot sounded on the porch, and Nathan tightened involuntarily.
He’d heard that sound before, and it had never been good.
“You’re back, boy? Without a word to me?”
He gazed dully at the man who filled the doorway with his presence, just like he always had. Mortimer Hero. Staring at him, cold. Even though they hadn’t seen each other in so many years.
He knew an answer, and quick, was the best course. “Got in last night. Crashed.” He shrugged. “How’d you hear?”
No welcome back from war, Boy. You did us proud. Never figured you for a damn SEAL. A Delta Norther. Good man. Proud as hell of you.
“There’s nothing that goes on in these woods without my knowing, boy. You’d do well to remember that.” His eagle eyes scanned the room, took in everything.
The unpacked duffel, the pile of empty bottles. The empty carrier…
“You got an animal in here?” His uncle strode into the room, looked from right to left. “Where?”
Nathan threw a surreptitious glance around. Where was the dog? He’d put food out, still sick at the thought of the animal facing empty bowls the night before. The pup had scarfed it down, even while he growled at him, kept his distance. But now…
“Not sure. He’s around somewhere.”
The uncle dropped into a chair, placed his clenched fist on the table. “Now that you’re back, I’ve got work for you to do.”
Nathan surveyed him. Thin, but strong. The essence of power emanating from him. Hair a dirty grey, flecked with white, an oversweep on his high forehead.
But always the threat of…something. If you didn’t do as he said. If you didn’t respect him.
And hell no, he was done with that. He damn well didn’t care. Life had crashed in on him, showed him he was no better than what he’d always been.
Flying with eagles…
He’d done it temporarily. And he was back to sleeping with the rats.
But damned if he wasn’t going to pick the particular rat he hung with and the specific rat-hole he lay in.
He wasn’t going to be the old man’s lackey anymore. And he definitely wasn’t going to be part of his schemes. He’d always had them. Get rich quick, beat the system, more.
Because they were oh so smart, the Heroes.
Well, he’d had enough of that growing up. “Not available right now.”
His uncle snorted, as if the very idea was out of this world. “Not available? What do you mean?”
He widened the stance of his feet, squared his shoulders. “What I said. I’m taking time to figure a few things out, and in the meantime, I’m wrapping up business interests from the last town I lived in. If I’m available, I’ll let you know. Right now, I’m not.”
The narrowed eyes of his uncle didn’t inspire confidence, and his breathing quickened as he automatically braced himself for the blow.
And the stupid puppy took that moment to show itself.
Not that it came out into the open. But over in the corner, under an old coat that had been left there from who knew how long ago, its back feet started scratching an itch that apparently had just presented itself.
Nathan felt a pang for the unfortunate creature. Didn’t it know you had to ask for permission to do anything in the Hero household, at least once the elder Hero had showed up? That it was better to never try to do anything on your own? Ever?
His uncle strode over, whipped the coat off the animal, and it shuddered.
Uncle scowled. “This? You’re keeping this?”
It did look pretty sad. Mortimer Hero prized those that could work for him, and deliver. They either had to have ribald strength or extreme talents of deception. Or the willingness to do whatever he said.
That was pretty much the trinity of qualities his uncle prized.
None of which his mother had had, way back. Or rather, cared to have. Meaghan Mary Hero had always pissed her husband’s elder brother off. And she’d done it equally with her happiness, her determination to look at the glass as half full, never half empty, as much as by not bowing or scraping to whatever he expected of her.
And the fact that she’d given her man the strength to openly disobey his uncle, despite his position in the family, hadn’t endeared her to him either.
That little dog didn’t stand a chance.
“Leave it alone.”
His uncle stared at him, and one, solitary, disbelieving word came from his mouth. “What?”
Mortimer kept him pinned with a look. His dark, already crowded eyebrows came together, and his gaze narrowed.
Then there was the hush.
What would he do? Nathan narrowed his gaze, watched the boot that was so close to Ryker. Too close. If he tried…
He sized up the distance between them and the older man. He’d do it.
He might bring hell to rain down on his head, but he’d damn well do it. He’d tackle the man. It might end with blood, and it might possibly end with a cracked skull on his part and be his last day, out here in the woods with no one to render aid, but he was past caring.
This travesty of all that was human was not going to hurt…Ryker.
Yeah. His name was Ryker. Not dog, not thing, not critter.
Ryker.
He watched as the hatred from the man’s being dispersed. “We Heroes—our animals work for us. Earn their keep.” He fixed his gaze meaningfully on Nathan. “We don’t keep bullshit critters because they’re God’s creatures, or belong to the earth, or any such nonsense. We feed those that serve us. When they serve us. That’s it.”
He strode to the table. “I’ve got a buddy who wants a dog for his kids. Brats, always getting into everything. I’ll send him by. Sell it—we don’t give away anything. Charge a good price for it, use the money. And I’ll talk up the beast so Nard knows he’d better bring cash.”
He reached inside his worn overcoat, pulled out a thick, tattered envelope. “I came by to give you this. It’s not for anyone else’s eyes. I’ve kept it in a lock box until now but there’s been men poking around, so I’m giving it to you.” His eyes flashed. “Make sure you take care of it, and no one’s eyes on it except yours. Family business. You hear, boy?”
He’d gotten away with challenging the elder Hero twice in one short session. He wasn’t going for three. “Yeah. I’ll do that.”
“Good. You’re welcome to use the cabin, but I’ll be wanting rent. First and last. ASAP.” He named a figure that jolted Nathan.
For a tiny, backwoods cabin? But…he needed a place. Just hadn’t expected it to be quite that much, here. Not yet. “Okay.”
“I’ve been paying all the costs these years, so here’s this too.” He slapped a notice on the table and with a shock, Nathan saw the heading. Property taxes. “I was going to pay this last one, along with the back taxes but the money was needed elsewhere, so it’s more now. Damn government always has its nose in things. But seeing as you’re here, you’ll be paying it. And any repairs, too. Home ownership is costly, and you’re not going to mooch off your family now, are you, boy?”
Nathan glanced down, saw the amount. Hell. He didn’t have that.
He had fifteen hundred dollars in savings, a few meager bucks beside for daily expenses. He’d have to spend all that and it wouldn’t even touch the amount.
“But…”
“Seems like your pa and ma wanted others to keep them. Pay their debts. Left no money, not a whit. Always did say your pa was a loser, especially after he took up with your ma. Flighty ideas. Irresponsible.” He stared at him. “Whole side of the family’s bad.”
“I’ll pay.”
He wasn’t going to have his parents, no matter how they’d ended up, put down. They’d been good parents. Damn good parents until…
“Just leave the bill.”
“I’ll be out of town for a few weeks. I’ll be by when I’m back. I’ll send Nard by tomorrow. Get rid of the mutt. He’s a drain.” He gave the dog one last, denigrating glance. “What a mess. We don’t brook losers.” He gave him a meaningful look. “What losers we come across, we get rid of. Always do.”
An odd look of satisfaction flitted across the elder’s face, then he stalked out of the cabin. Nathan heard those awful footsteps again, but at least going in the right direction this time. An unseen weight lifted from him, but only partially.
The old man would be around again. He turned, gave the puppy a once over. Shuddering in its corner, it hadn’t eased, even though his uncle had left.
“Hell.”
He went over to it, reached out a hand, and once again, the creature shrank from him.
This time he didn’t care. If the puppy was leaving tomorrow, and it was best it was as he was utterly too wrapped up in his own mess to take care of it, at least he’d make sure it would know a peaceful night.
He found sausages in the fridge, along with a takeout steak he’d brought with him. Slapped it onto a cutting board, cut it into puppy-sized pieces, placed it on a clean plate, and squatted before the little dog. “Here.”
And lo and behold, if it didn’t show interest. A bit of pleasure vibrated through him. He slid a couple of pieces directly onto the floor, and the little pup darted in, stayed. Sniffed the food, licked at it. Started eating it.
He watched the whole show, a sense of satisfaction filling him.
Once the puppy was done, it scrutinized Nathan.
“Damn, your eyes are bright. Here, boy. Have the rest.” He slid the chunks onto the worn floor.
And the puppy fell upon the food.
He was ridiculously pleased with himself. It had eaten, and almost from his hand.
He hurried outside, drew fresh water from the old pump on the property. The water from here would be fresher than what had been sitting in the old pipes in the cabin—he’d barely run them. He washed out a ceramic bowl, then carried it over, cold water sloshing over its rim, and presented that to the puppy.
To Ryker, he corrected himself.
The dog laid into the water. He watched it a while, a strange feeling of contentment flowing through him.
He went to the fireplace, eyed it. He’d noticed the puppy had been quivering earlier—was that because of the cold? He’d be fine, but the dog needed less stress. It had had enough in its short life, damn it, and part of that was on him.
He’d stoke it with the logs stacked at the side of it, then light the damn thing.
The next couple of hours saw him sweeping out the insides and inspecting it the best he could, poking around to make sure it was safe. Then he plied it with thick pieces of wood and kindling. The first batch was wet, so he looked around outside for a bit, found the lean-to, brought in more wood.
He found the spot where his mom had left matches, so long ago, and blinked. Had her hands been the last ones on this box?
He pushed the thought away, got on with the necessary business. Soon the fireplace was cranking out a nice bit of heat. Yes. He adjusted the damper, then remembered the pup. Where was he?
He found Ryker sitting on his haunches behind him, watching him intently. He grinned, tossed a glance at the water bowl. The dog had drank it empty.
And Nathan was ridiculously pleased, once more. “Good Boy, Ryker! Good!”
The puppy took a step toward him, stopped. Was he forgiving him? So quickly?
He reached forward to extend a hand to the pup, then watched as it lowered its rear and a little amber puddle formed between his legs.
Nathan groaned. “Guess I had that coming.”