Page 24 of Close Match
When the cabin doors are secured, I put my phone into airplane mode and slip my headphones on to watch the in-flight movie.
As the plane taxis down the runway and we take off, so do my hopes. It’s way too soon, I know, but something tells me that I’m not only going to get my answers, they might just heal me.
Fourteen
Montague
Ijerk awake with my heart pounding. I gasp, trying to inhale hard enough to get enough air. “Christ.” I scrub my fingers through my hair. The nightmare I just woke up from has never really gone away—the last case I was involved with before I was encouraged to leave NCIS. It still haunts me, since it wrapped up right before I got the call about Ev’s illness.
Knowing it’s the only way I’ll be able to get back to sleep, I swing out of bed and head over to the wet bar near the bathroom. Grabbing the nearest decanter, I throw a few healthy fingers in a heavy crystal glass and toss it back. The liquid etching its way down toward my stomach helps ease the burn in my heart. Refilling it quickly, I begin to pace back and forth, my mind unable to relax.
How do I make it all go away? There’s nothing that comes to mind in the inky darkness.I can help.My words from that night echo in my head, making it pound harder. It doesn’t matter what miracle mind exercises you’re given when you’re running from the truth.That boy died because I wasn’t enough.There’s not enough ways to erase the bruises and scars from taking residence in your brain. It fucking kills and I keep reliving it over and over. And compounded with Ev… I take another slug of the bourbon I’ve managed to not spill in my anxious pacing.
One of the aching pains is the hole I left in my team. By not being able to hack it, I abandoned them to deal with the aftermath of what happened: the negative press, the media, the accusations of mishandling of the case. Everyone’s reassured me they don’t feel that way, but I can’t help but feel like somewhere along the way I’ve made a mistake that cost so much to so many people.
Finishing my drink, I plunk down the glass on the edge of my nightstand. The sheets get a quick snap to right them before I crawl between them again. Not knowing if trying to get a few extra hours of sleep is even worth the effort, I flip onto my stomach. I punch the pillow, then stare out the wall of windows overlooking the back of the property. Even after all this time, it still takes me forever to fall asleep as I’m still unused to the eery quiet. There’s no noise from the streets below. If I listen hard, I might be able to hear a horse in their stall. I brace for another night of loneliness, regrets, and sadness.
It isn’t until the sky starts to lighten that I drift back off to sleep.
* * *
I’mstartled awake by my alarm hours later. Standing in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs, I walk over to the Keurig on the bar in my suite and pop in a cup so I can get the first hit of caffeine down before I start my day. Then I’m finally conscious enough to thank God that it isn’t raining. Spring in Northern Virginia is either exquisite or it’s trying to bitch-slap you like an errant schoolboy. There is no in-between. Some of the locals joke that we’re beginning to turn into our version of Florida going straight from winter into summer. I hope that’s not the case; there’s something about spring that offers hope around here.
When Ev bought this place, I thought he was insane. What the hell was he going to do with a working horse farm? The man knew software, knew numbers. What I didn’t factor in was his enormous heart plus his love for the damn beasts. By opening a small equestrian center that offers riding classes, boarding, and grooming services, he can do what he really wanted to do, which is to fund riding classes for underprivileged children in the area. Growing up in a small Southern town, he taught me what he already knew: working with horses is a soothing balm to a soul that’s exhausted by pain.
He could—and still does—wander out from his office to the picket fence surrounding the property and stare at them for hours while figuring things out in his head. It’s just now the management of the farm has fallen to my shoulders while he deals with something infinitely harder.
As I slide into jeans, I have to admit my time away from the DC grind has been good for me. Sure, I’m still using a well-trained eye on everything that goes on around me. I might question everyone’s moves a little more closely. I’m perhaps just a tad more invasive in the day-to-day operations than Ev was, but I’m pretty confident the men aren’t thinking of asking my partner for the names of the criminals I put away to place a hit out on me. I’m damned sure not waking up pulling my gun from under my pillow at the slightest noise. Yeah, I’m still battling a hell of a lot of demons, but one of them isn’t the respect of the people I now work with. I’m not just the owner’s son anymore. I proved my worth on the farm with hard work months ago.
Tossing back the dregs of my first cup, I quickly wash up and tug on a T-shirt without looking in the mirror. I’m tired of seeing the tattered and droopy look around my eyes first thing in the morning. Snagging a ball cap to pull low over my unruly dark hair, I grab my mug and the glass from last night, then dump the used K-Cup into it before heading down to get something to eat.
“Good morning, my darling.” My mother glances up from her copy ofMiddleburg Life, the high-end monthly magazine.
“Morning, Mom. Anything interesting?”
“Well, don’t be surprised to see the painted foxes popping up in town again,” she laughs as I groan aloud. The painted cow thing was cute when I was a kid. Now, everything is coming up painted. In my travels, I’ve seen painted bulls, painted cats, painted armadillos, and now in Middleburg, painted foxes for charity.
“Great. Just another thing to block up traffic as people stop and stare,” I mutter as I dump my K-Cup in the trash, put the crystal in the sink, and move to the full pot I prayed she’d have brewing for another mug.
“Actually, it says they’ll be inside the businesses, restaurants, or as a part of their garden area. So, instead of you being able to avoid them, they’ll just spring up on you.”
“Kind of like when you used to have girls chase after you when you were a kid. Now they’re foxes.” Ev laughs at his own joke as he makes his way into the kitchen. “Good morning, my love.” He leans over to give my mom a brief kiss.
“Cute, Ev, really cute,” I growl. He’s not wrong though. After we moved to Middleburg in my teens, there wasn’t a time when we would go out to eat when some random family would come up and introduce themselves. Inevitably, they would have a daughter I just had to meet. “Little did they know, I was planning on bailing as quickly as I could.”
Ev’s hand claps down on my shoulder. “Something I’m still proud of you for, son. When all this becomes yours and your mother’s, it will mean that much more to you than if I just handed it over.”
A crushing mix of panic and pain washes through me. I don’t want to think about that day being sooner than we all anticipated. Instead, I give him a head-to-toe perusal. He’s dressed much as I am. “You planning to work for your living today?”
Ev tosses his silver-streaked head back and laughs. His green eyes are sparking with mirth. “I thought I’d come out and see how things are operating, yes.”
“Then let me toss some food back and we’ll get going. I got a late start this morning.”
“Monty, you run operations. You’re not expected to be mucking out stalls,” Ev says with more than a touch of exasperation.
I grin at him. “You work out your problems your way, Ev; I shovel out mine in an entirely different fashion.”
My mother slaps her magazine down. “This is not going to be our breakfast conversation. Do you both understand? Gross. Get out of here so I can go back to being a lady of leisure.” Ev and I both chortle. My mother is anything but that. She manages the books for all of Parrish Properties—Ev’s multitude of investments—which is a job for at least two people. “Why don’t we get you both fed and out of the way before Ashley comes in to clean?”
