After Cody finished, he climbed down. I started to thank him, but John spoke first. “Thank you for undoing the damage you did. That’s the mark of a man who owns his mistakes. I’m proud of you.”
Cody wrapped his arms around his father’s neck, and I quietly walked away. It was beautiful to see the two of them come to an understanding and John remind his son he loved him and was proud of him.
“Jer! Phone, honey.” I was in the pen, exercising Orion, when I heard Mom calling me. I waved, got off the horse, and walked into the barn to pick up the extension.
“This is Jericho.” For a moment, my heart fluttered. Maybe it was Sean?
“Hi, Jericho. This is Mindy Spriggs. I wanted to make an appointment to come out and ride Fancy. How’s the colt doing?”
I deflated a little. “Hi, Mindy. Thunder’s just fine. About ready to be weaned. How was the show?” I didn’t really care, but I felt obligated to listen. Once she finished complaining about how inconsiderate some people could be, I cleared my throat.
“Yeah, I hear ya. Say, uh, I wanted to talk to you about something. Seems you haven’t paid John Langer for the fences he built at your place, and he’s got a family and needs the money. If you’re coming out to ride, maybe you could drop off a check for him?”
Was it my business to remind her about a debt? Nope. Was I doing it anyway? You bet your ass. I depended on people to pay me for my time and effort. John deserved the same respect.
“Shit! I thought my bookkeeper mailed that check before I left the country. I’ll definitely take a check to him, Jericho. I’m so embarrassed. I promise I’m not the type of person who would ever cheat anyone out of money they earned.”
Mindy sounded truly upset, and to date, she had been fair with me. Fancy wasn’t the first of her horses I’d worked with, so I had no reason to doubt her.
“I was sure it was just a misunderstanding, Mindy. When do you want to come out?”
We chatted and agreed on Monday morning before we ended the call. I thought about how my chest felt when I hoped it was Sean calling me, so I went into the house and pulled up his office number on my cell, which I’d turned back on since Sean had left.
It rang twice before it was answered. “The Fitzpatrick Group. How may I direct your call?”
My tongue felt as thick as a slab of meat. I pulled the phone away and started to end the call, but something told me not to. “May I speak with Sean Fitzpatrick, please. Tell him it’s Jericho Hess. I’ll hold.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Hess, but Mr. Fitzpatrick is out of the office. Would you like to speak to his executive assistant?”
My gut churned. “No. Thanks though.” I ended the call.
I was sure Sean was busy making up for being with me for a week. I was proud of him for everything he was working toward, but I missed the fuck out of him.
Sean had captured my heart in an instant, and now he was gone. How the fuck was I supposed to deal with the hole he left behind in my chest?
Camp Brotherhood
Southern Pines, North Carolina
Martin Dale had beaten the piss out of me because I wouldn’t tell him why I was at his shitty camp in the first place. He’d said he’d do whatever he had to do to get the truth out of me, but I didn’t break. The harder he pressed, the more I dug in, prepared to die for my cause. It was a test of my journalistic integrity, and I wouldn’t fail.
“You gonna tell me who sent you down here to spy on us, asshole?” Martin Dean was squatting next to me in the woods outside Camp Brotherhood. I’d been dragged from Granny’s house into the woods and pummeled before one question was even asked. He was a ruthless dickhead.
“I’m trying to understand why you’d come here if you’re not interested in joining us.” Dale stared at me—or as much as I could see through the slits my swollen eyes provided.
“Why would I come here if I wasn’t planning to join you—and why the fuck would you beat the hell out of me because those two inbred fools said I wasn’t willing to join?”
I hadn’t been prepared for the bullshit of being undercover for a story. I was a newbie. I was green as grass, and trying to be a badass wasn’t exactly my best persona. Now, how to keep the fucker from continuing to pound on me was something I needed to think about.
Martin Dale laughed. “Those twoinbred fools, as you called them, are members of my family, and I don’t appreciate your condescending tone when you’re referring to them. To be honest, I don’t like to talk to them if I can help it, but it pisses off my sister, and I owe her a lot. Now, who are you?”
I sucked in a breath. “I’m a stringer with the Washington Conservative. I overheard my bosses talking about trying to get an interview with you, and I needed a great story to get their attention. Somehow, they’ve become aware of your group’s mission, and they’re supportive. They were talking about doing a feature on you, so I did some digging and found you.”
Dale grinned. “Ah, ambitious. I like that in a young man, which is part of why we’re doing what we’re doing by holding these recruiting picnics for the guys at the local military installations and the young men in nearby high schools. It’s also why you’re not dead and buried in a shallow grave at the back of the property.
“Young men have become victimized by the far-left wingnuts. They’re soft and many of them don’t know how to go after what they want. I want to empower them to take back their masculinity, and sometimes, it requires a little tough love.”
Ah, so beating the fuck out of me was tough love?He could go fuck a knothole, the bigoted jackoff.
