Thirty-Five and a Half Conspiracies
Page 96
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
Skeeter laughed. “That’s not how it’s done here, boy. You’re my guest, so you’ll follow my rules. If you want to use the restroom, then I suggest you get in there now. Otherwise I’m going to lock you back in this room.”
I stood. “Skeeter!”
He paused. “Fine, but you still have twenty minutes, give or take a few.” Then he spun around and stomped down the hall. A door slammed moments later.
Mason turned around to look at me, his eyes guarded. “Do you want to shower?”
“Yeah. I don’t have clean clothes to change into, but I feel dirty after what happened last night.”
He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close. “You’re not alone now. I’ll come stay in there with you.”
I didn’t argue. He still saw me as their hostage, whereas I was much closer to being their equal. He’d figure it out soon enough. But it only reinforced that I wasn’t in the clear. He thought he accepted what I’d done … only he couldn’t. He didn’t understand the extent of it.
About twenty minutes later, the front door opened, and I could hear male voices in the living room. We had already showered and dressed, so Mason took my hand and started to head down the hall. I stopped him. “Let me take the lead on this. Okay? They’re used to working with me.”
I saw more surprise on his face, but he nodded slightly. “We’ll go that course for now.”
“You have to listen to everything we have to say before you make a decision one way or the other.”
His jaw hardened. “It looks like I have plenty of time at my disposal to do so.”
Not as much as he thought. I led the way, praying Skeeter would behave himself.
Skeeter sat at the kitchen table, unwrapping a breakfast sandwich. A cup of coffee sat in front of him, and there was a paper bag on the table, along with two other hot beverage cups and an assortment of small creamers and sugars. Jed stood by the door, his arm back in a sling. He avoided eye contact, which I took as a very bad sign. No one else was around.
Skeeter grinned. “The boys brought us some breakfast sandwiches and coffee. Sit down, and we’ll talk.”
Mason pulled out my chair and then sat in the one next to it, all while Skeeter watched with an amused grin. I noticed that Mason placed himself with his back to the wall, leaving both Skeeter and Jed in his line of sight.
Skeeter pulled a wrapped sandwich out of a bag and handed it to me, then tossed another to Mason. “Help yourself to the coffee, but don’t be getting any ideas about using it as a weapon.” He gestured behind me. “Jed here is ready to step in if necessary.”
I looked over at Jed, but he still refused to look at me. My anxiety increased.
Mason grabbed two cups and placed one in front of me, then handed me sugar and creamer packages. While he was usually attentive, he was never this attentive. It was easy to see he was trying to show Skeeter that he was the man to protect me.
What a mess.
“Skeeter,” I said, doctoring my coffee. “Mason’s agreed to listen, but you have to treat him with more respect if we have any chance of getting him to help us.”
Mason shot me a questioning glance.
“And we need him,” I continued. “You know it.”
Skeeter shook his head and picked up a jelly packet. “I’ve spent the night thinking this over. There’s no reason for you to go at all, Rose. You’ve set up the meeting, we’ll establish a place, and then I’ll go in and take care of the matter on my own.”
I sighed. “That might resolve things for you and Mason, but it wouldn’t take care of my own issue. Not to mention you’re talking about cold-blooded murder.”
Skeeter’s voice hardened. “If there was ever a man who deserved cold-blooded murder, it’s that man. And as far as your charges go, I’ll figure out another way to take care of those.” He swung his gaze from me to Mason. “She will not be going to prison.”
I could sense Mason’s concern. Why was Skeeter so determined to keep me safe? Why was he going to so much trouble to keep me out of prison? But now I was good and ticked by all of this macho posturing.
I leaned forward. “If that’s your plan of action, you don’t need either one of us. But don’t be stupid. I know you agreed to bring Mason here to keep him safe, but he can help us do this right.”
Skeeter slathered jelly on his biscuit. “I think you were right about that part. Deveraux’s part of this, and he and I can bring down Simmons together. A two-part process.”
Mason had been surprisingly quiet up until now. “If you think I’m participating in a man’s murder, then you’re crazy.”
Skeeter laughed. “I would never expect you to dirty your hands, but if nothing else, I figured you deserve to know why you’re part of this. How you’re tied to me.”
Mason gave him a look of disbelief. “I’m supposed to believe you’re just going to give me information for nothing?”
Skeeter took a bite of his biscuit, then said, “Maybe your girlfriend has rubbed off on me.”
“Okay, then how is Mason tied to this?” I asked, sneaking a glance at him. His face remained expressionless. He hadn’t told me any of this before.
Skeeter shrugged. “Perhaps I should tell you how I’m tied to J.R.”
I decided to move this along. “You were one of The Twelve.”
Skeeter’s eyebrows nearly rose to his hairline, and when he spoke, his voice sounded ominous. “How do you know about The Twelve?”
I stood. “Skeeter!”
He paused. “Fine, but you still have twenty minutes, give or take a few.” Then he spun around and stomped down the hall. A door slammed moments later.
Mason turned around to look at me, his eyes guarded. “Do you want to shower?”
“Yeah. I don’t have clean clothes to change into, but I feel dirty after what happened last night.”
He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close. “You’re not alone now. I’ll come stay in there with you.”
I didn’t argue. He still saw me as their hostage, whereas I was much closer to being their equal. He’d figure it out soon enough. But it only reinforced that I wasn’t in the clear. He thought he accepted what I’d done … only he couldn’t. He didn’t understand the extent of it.
About twenty minutes later, the front door opened, and I could hear male voices in the living room. We had already showered and dressed, so Mason took my hand and started to head down the hall. I stopped him. “Let me take the lead on this. Okay? They’re used to working with me.”
I saw more surprise on his face, but he nodded slightly. “We’ll go that course for now.”
“You have to listen to everything we have to say before you make a decision one way or the other.”
His jaw hardened. “It looks like I have plenty of time at my disposal to do so.”
Not as much as he thought. I led the way, praying Skeeter would behave himself.
Skeeter sat at the kitchen table, unwrapping a breakfast sandwich. A cup of coffee sat in front of him, and there was a paper bag on the table, along with two other hot beverage cups and an assortment of small creamers and sugars. Jed stood by the door, his arm back in a sling. He avoided eye contact, which I took as a very bad sign. No one else was around.
Skeeter grinned. “The boys brought us some breakfast sandwiches and coffee. Sit down, and we’ll talk.”
Mason pulled out my chair and then sat in the one next to it, all while Skeeter watched with an amused grin. I noticed that Mason placed himself with his back to the wall, leaving both Skeeter and Jed in his line of sight.
Skeeter pulled a wrapped sandwich out of a bag and handed it to me, then tossed another to Mason. “Help yourself to the coffee, but don’t be getting any ideas about using it as a weapon.” He gestured behind me. “Jed here is ready to step in if necessary.”
I looked over at Jed, but he still refused to look at me. My anxiety increased.
Mason grabbed two cups and placed one in front of me, then handed me sugar and creamer packages. While he was usually attentive, he was never this attentive. It was easy to see he was trying to show Skeeter that he was the man to protect me.
What a mess.
“Skeeter,” I said, doctoring my coffee. “Mason’s agreed to listen, but you have to treat him with more respect if we have any chance of getting him to help us.”
Mason shot me a questioning glance.
“And we need him,” I continued. “You know it.”
Skeeter shook his head and picked up a jelly packet. “I’ve spent the night thinking this over. There’s no reason for you to go at all, Rose. You’ve set up the meeting, we’ll establish a place, and then I’ll go in and take care of the matter on my own.”
I sighed. “That might resolve things for you and Mason, but it wouldn’t take care of my own issue. Not to mention you’re talking about cold-blooded murder.”
Skeeter’s voice hardened. “If there was ever a man who deserved cold-blooded murder, it’s that man. And as far as your charges go, I’ll figure out another way to take care of those.” He swung his gaze from me to Mason. “She will not be going to prison.”
I could sense Mason’s concern. Why was Skeeter so determined to keep me safe? Why was he going to so much trouble to keep me out of prison? But now I was good and ticked by all of this macho posturing.
I leaned forward. “If that’s your plan of action, you don’t need either one of us. But don’t be stupid. I know you agreed to bring Mason here to keep him safe, but he can help us do this right.”
Skeeter slathered jelly on his biscuit. “I think you were right about that part. Deveraux’s part of this, and he and I can bring down Simmons together. A two-part process.”
Mason had been surprisingly quiet up until now. “If you think I’m participating in a man’s murder, then you’re crazy.”
Skeeter laughed. “I would never expect you to dirty your hands, but if nothing else, I figured you deserve to know why you’re part of this. How you’re tied to me.”
Mason gave him a look of disbelief. “I’m supposed to believe you’re just going to give me information for nothing?”
Skeeter took a bite of his biscuit, then said, “Maybe your girlfriend has rubbed off on me.”
“Okay, then how is Mason tied to this?” I asked, sneaking a glance at him. His face remained expressionless. He hadn’t told me any of this before.
Skeeter shrugged. “Perhaps I should tell you how I’m tied to J.R.”
I decided to move this along. “You were one of The Twelve.”
Skeeter’s eyebrows nearly rose to his hairline, and when he spoke, his voice sounded ominous. “How do you know about The Twelve?”