A Place to Belong. Linda Goodnight. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Linda Goodnight
Издательство: HarperCollins
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Жанр произведения: Современные любовные романы
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9781408965191
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again and shook his head. “If you want help ask for it, but give me the facts, not a con.”

      Donny turned his back and paced some more. Jace could practically see the wheels turning inside his head.

      “You should get a couch. One of those long recliner things with the built in tables and cup holders. And a big screen.” He stopped, spun. “How do you live in this place without a big screen?” When Jace simply stared at him, he said,” This is no con. I swear on my mother.”

      First the Bible and now his mother. Too much swearing to be true. “I’d like to believe you, but I don’t.”

      Donny stopped his prowling and shoved both hands in his pockets. His shoulders slumped. “All right, look. Here’s the real skinny. The economy is killing the real estate business. I’ve been straight as an arrow for the last ten years, working day and night like you said. Honest. Clean as a new shirt. I swear it. Then the market goes south and I’m struggling. I don’t want to go back to that life, Jacey boy. You got to help me out.”

      Jace suffered a tug of sympathy. He knew the fear of going back, because he lived with it daily. “I’m not rich.”

      Most of his assets were tied up in this house and the twenty surrounding acres.

      “Seeing you on television was like a sign. I’m thinking, go see Jace. He owes you one.” Donny stretched out his hands. “I was hoping you would invest in this deal. Just a little to get me going again. After everything that happened, it’s the least you can do. I saved your hide, Jacey boy. You’d have died right there if not for me. Torres had you down with no help in sight. No help but me. He was carving you up like a Christmas turkey.”

      Jace shuddered at the vision of himself on the cold, wet concrete, someone standing on his bleeding hands and Torres with the homemade knife. The scars on his body throbbed.

      “One more minute and he’d have cut your liver out and left you to bleed to death. Doesn’t that count for anything?”

      Jace dragged a hand over his face. It did count for something. “Tell me again where you’ve been, what you’ve been doing.”

      He listened attentively while Donny related his business dealings and his lifestyle among prosperous, law-abiding citizens. Jace wanted to believe he was telling the truth and yet Donny’s story seemed inflated to impress.

      “You got a second chance at the good life, Jace. Don’t I deserve one, too?”

      What could he say to that? Donny was right. God had blessed him with a second chance and the Lord was no respecter of persons.

      “Come on, have a heart. Spot me a few lousy bucks until business picks up.”

      Jace gnawed the inside of his cheek. He wasn’t about to hand any sizable cash to a man he hadn’t seen in years.

      His conscience pricked. That stranger had saved his life.

      “I can loan you a little. Maybe a couple of hundred.”

      Donny’s mouth twisted. “Get real. A couple hundred won’t get me to Tulsa.”

      Jace shifted against the rough lacquered brick, felt the hard pressure against his scarred back and remembered what Donny Babcock had done for him. “What do you want, Donny?”

      “Well, let’s see now.” Donny roamed the living room again, looked out the undraped bay window. “I could use a place to stay. A few bucks. Just until this deal goes through. Then I’ll be out of your hair. I swear it.”

      Realization slowly seeped through. Donny was down on his luck and searching for a soft place to land. There was probably no land deal, no money in escrow.

      “You’re broke.”

      Donny held up an index finger. A diamond winked from his pinky. “Temporarily short of cash. Emphasis on temporary. I got that deal working.”

      Jace no more believed him than he could read minds. He blew out a tight breath. He might be a fool, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Gary Henderson. What if Gary had turned his back on Jace? Where would he be today?

      This one’s for you, Gary.

      “You can bunk here for a few days.”

      “I knew I could count on you. Tell you what, old buddy, when I get this deal cooking—”

      Jace held up a hand to stop the words. “Listen, Donny, and listen good. No cons. I’m respected in this town. I have a business, friends, a church family. I’d appreciate it if you’d keep a low profile while you’re here.”

      Donny went still. Sly awareness crept across his bony face. “I think I’m getting the picture. They don’t know about your little trip up the river, do they?”

      Jace shoved his hands in his pockets. “No.”

      “And you want to keep it that way.”

      Jace’s heart bumped. Not even a town as generous and welcoming as Redemption would do business with him if they knew. “Redemption’s a good town. Good people. Don’t mess with them. Don’t mess with me.”

      “Well now, the way I see it is this. I got no reason to tell the good folks of Redemption Jace Carter’s ugly little secret. No reason at all. You help me out, and I’ll return the favor. Get my drift?”

      Jace stared into Donny’s glittery eyes and felt the earth shift off-kilter. The promise sounded eerily like a threat.

      With a heavy heart, he knew he had no choice but to believe Donny Babcock was all he claimed to be. He only hoped that trust didn’t cost him everything.

      Chapter Four

      Two weeks later, Jace listened to the chat and clatter inside the Sugar Shack Bakery while he ate his usual breakfast. He was a regular, preferring Miriam Martinelli’s cooking to his own. Other businessmen started their day here as well and he’d learned about more than one restoration job over a plate of bacon and eggs.

      This morning he would have liked to sit alone and worry to himself, but the local gathering place was jammed as usual and folks sat wherever they could find a seat.

      “Met that friend of yours yesterday, Jace.”

      The speaker was Tooney Deer, the local mechanic who owned Tooney’s Tune-Up. The Native American’s chair was crammed between GI Jack and Popbottle Jones. Jace and Sloan Hawkins finished out the group of five seated elbow to elbow at a table intended for four. Thick white platters of pancakes, eggs, and meat along with matching cups of steaming coffee crowded the space even more.

      Jace stopped chewing. “Donny Babcock?”

      Since his arrival, Donny was slippery as a snake. Jace wasn’t surprised that he was getting around town. Concerned, but not surprised. He wished every thought about Donny wasn’t negative but the man he recalled wasn’t worth anyone’s confidence. Even though he’d saved Jace from certain death that one time, Donny had double-crossed him a few times, too. And the old Donny Babcock would lie when the truth was easier. The new Donny didn’t seem much different.

      Jace had offered him a job, primarily to keep an eye on him, but Donny found other things to do. Real labor was never his favorite activity. Like this morning when Jace left the house at six, Donny grumbled something about having business calls to make. Jace was tempted to hang around and see what kind of calls Donny was making, but he had customers waiting.

      “Said he’s staying at your place for a few days to help you out.”

      That was Donny. Twist the story to suit his purposes.

      “He’s here for a few days.” He hoped the stay was brief. Since Donny’s arrival, he felt as if was holding his breath all the time, looking over his shoulder, waiting for the ax to fall.

      “He says the two of you go way back.”

      “Yeah.” To avoid further