Page 86 of The Texas Sterling Collection
Book Two: The Outing
Chapter One
“What the fuck?” Rod said. The pounding at the front door startled him.
The insistent pounding increased.
“Mitzi,” Wyl said. He was sure they had dealt with Mitzi for the last time, but nobody else pounded like that. Wyl tugged the door open. She barged in like she owned the place, jabbing him with her elbow to shove him aside. He stood at the open door, arms across his chest.
With one hand on her hip, Mitzi stood between Wyl and Rod in a defiant stance that saidDon’t fuck with me, boys. “How do you think the Blackfield Daily News will treat a story of a happily married gay couple living west of town?”
“Ah, Mitzi.” Wyl shook his head. “Is that the best you can do?” He glared at her. “Did you already blow the last three hundred thousand you hoodwinked from us?”
“No, smart-ass.” Mitzi shook a scolding finger at Wyl. “And it was half a million.”
“Minus the fee for that high-powered attorney you hired, who got 40%. How’d that work out, by the way?” Wyl aimed a smug expression at her.
“I actually invested some of it.” She aimed her own smug expression at him.
Wyl uncrossed his arms and shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. “What in? Some kind of get-rich-quick scheme?”
Rod laughed and balanced his hands back and forth. “Online shysters…Mitzi…same difference.”
Wyl laughed. “Good point, babe.”
Mitzi tennis-balled her gaze between Rod and Wyl. “Very funny. Now back to the Homo Erectus story. What would you be willing to pay to keep this quiet? I’m sure Rod’s reputation is worth protecting, not to mention Sterling Ranch.” Mitzi’s crimson-painted lips quirked an evil grin. “You two would create quite a sensation in this little town.”
Rod stood. “I bet the dictionary includes an ink drawing of you under the definition of bitch.”
Mitzi barked out a laugh. “Probably, and I’d be fucking proud of it!” She pointed at Wyl. “Get your checkbook. I don’t have all day.”
“Make that definition crazy bitch.” Wyl stayed at the open door, glaring at Mitzi. “Let me tell you how much we are willing to pay, Mitzi.” Head tilted back, he gazed at the ceiling, taunting Mitzi into thinking he was deep in thought over a six-figure payoff. He glanced at his watch, stroked his chin, then aimed a smile at Mitzi. “Of course, I haven’t talked this over with Rod, so he may have an objection, but here’s our offer.” He leaned forward slightly to make his point. “Zip. Zilch. Nada. Squat. You got half a million in the divorce from Walt. You wrangled another half-million out of us through your Dallas lawyer, who took his handsome cut. You’re not weaseling another dime out of us.” He extended an arm through the open door.
“We’ll see about that,Mr.and Mr.Sterling. The local rag is always itching to get a good juicy story, and they don’t much care about facts.”
Mitzi had nothing, and Wyl knew it. Still, that didn’t stop her from pursuing any angle she thought would pay off. “Knock yourself out, Mitzi. You’ll get nothing from us and only misery for yourself.” He inched toward her and pointed out the door. “Let me say again how unwelcome you are on our ranch. Mr. and Mr. Sterling want you to leave. Now!”
Mitzi glared back and forth between them, huffed, and moseyed toward the door. “I didn’t think you’d fold. Don’t say I didn’t give you a chance. You two will hate what I have planned next.” She shoved a slip of paper into the waist of Wyl’s jeans and sauntered out the door.
Wyl shouted through the open door. “The only thingSterlingyou’ll walk away with is your surname.”
She threw a one-finger salute as she sauntered to her car, got in, and drove off in a cloud of caliche dust.
Wyl closed the door. “The bitch troll from hell is back.”
Rod shook his head. “I’m surprised it took her this long. It’s been six months since her last attempt.”
Wyl took a deep, calming breath and wrapped an arm around his husband’s shoulders. “She thinks she can threaten us with a manufactured story to the Blackfield Daily News. While I know the newspaper will occasionally print town gossip, the editor and my dad were personal friends. He won’t run any story about the Sterlings or Sterling Ranch.” Wyl waggled his finger back and forth. “Us.”
“Are there any other publications she could approach?”
“Not really,” Wyl said. “I don’t like her still being out there, coming up with schemes to get our money, and willing to do almost anything for whatever she can get.”
“What did Mitzi stuff in your waistband?” Rod said.
“I wish it was a farewell note.” Wyl tugged the paper out and read it. Anger resurfaced at the scrawled email address and phone number. He palmed the paper to wad it up, but something deep inside told him to hang onto it. He tossed it on the breakfast bar.
“Babe, we’ll be okay.” Rod picked up the paper and read it. “We’d better hang on to this just in case.” Rod reached for a pen and wrote the date and time on the back of the document. “If she tries anything, a sample of her handwriting could be useful.”
