The Ballerina's Stand. Angel Smits

TO WYATT, Pal had been banned from the big house. Pal Jr. had paid the bail money and hired a high-profile attorney, but wasn’t speaking to his father after he’d nearly burned up the entire county. As for Trey Haymaker, Pal’s grandson and DJ’s friend, he had disappeared. If anyone knew where he was, they weren’t telling. Jason didn’t blame him.

      The old man had done a number on everyone.

      The original hundred-year-old ranch house was still impressive, though. It dwarfed even Wyatt’s place, and the trees had easily been around for an additional century. An older woman answered the door, nodding but not smiling as she let Jason in. He followed her as she slowly walked down the long hallway, her serviceable shoes squeaking against the polished wood floors.

      She stopped at the wide entry of a room, waving him in before turning back and returning the way she’d come. Squeak. Squeak.

      “Someone should buy that woman some decent shoes.” Pal’s voice came from the corner of the big room.

      The old man sat there in a leather recliner, his scrawny legs lifted up, a newspaper spread over his lap. Clear green tubing from an oxygen tank beside the recliner snaked around the chair, finally wrapping around Pal’s weathered face. He aimed a remote at the giant TV screen and turned it off.

      “You wanted to see me?” Jason didn’t hesitate.

      “Have a seat.” Pal leaned forward and lowered the footrest. “I ain’t gonna get a crick in my neck for this, and I sure as hell can’t get up.”

      Jason nodded and took the chair facing the man. He hadn’t brought his briefcase, or anything to write on. He didn’t intend to take this job. Curiosity had brought him here today—that, and the need to make sure this jerk was no longer a threat to his family.

      “What did you want to talk about?” Jason leaned back, forcing himself to look casual, uncaring.

      “I got business out in your neck of the woods.” Pal slowly folded the newspaper. “I’m heading out there on Monday.”

      “I thought you were under house arrest.”

      The old man laughed—laughter that dissolved into a fit of coughing. “My attorney’s taking care of that.” He looked Jason in the eye. “I’ll be dead long before they can lock me up. So, what’s the point?”

      He probably had a point, if the blue tinge to his skin was any indication. As a corporate attorney, Jason mainly worked on business deals, but oddly enough a lot of business deals resulted from deathbed promises.

      “What kind of business are we discussing?”

      “My demise. I’m adjusting parts of my will—”

      “I’m not helping you screw your family more than you already have.” Jason began to rise. He’d had enough of this man.

      “Now sit your ass down, young man.” Pal spat out. “I ain’t gonna take anything away from either of my boys.” Another coughing fit made Pal pause. “I’m talking about someone else.” Oddly, Pal’s eyes and voice grew faded and distant. “Somethin’ I gotta make right ’fore I go.”

      Pal Haymaker had a smidgen of conscience? Not possible. “What are you talking about?”

      The old man leaned back, spearing Jason with a glare. “I’ll let you know when I get to LA.”

      “That’s not much answer, old man.” Jason sat on the edge of the chair, preparing to leave. He had a plane to catch.

      “Not supposed to be.” Pal leaned closer. “There’s too many ears in this house.”

      Was Pal paranoid, or was there a grain of truth in what he was hinting at? He wouldn’t put it past Pal Jr. to place a spy in his father’s house.

      “Here’s the deal.” Jason stood. “You get to town, get in touch with my assistant.” He pulled a white utilitarian card out of his wallet, flicking it with a decisive snap onto the side table. “If you time it right, I’ll meet with you.” He headed to the door. “You’ve done enough damage to this world, so make this good.”

      He didn’t wait for Pal to dismiss him. Walking out into the hot Texas morning, Jason took a deep breath, the fresh country air clearing his head of the stink of rotten old man.

      “You learn anything?” Chet leaned against the truck’s fender.

      “No. He’s as tight-lipped as usual. But Wyatt’s right. He’s up to something.” They climbed into the sun-heated cab of the truck. “He’s heading to LA next week. Wants to discuss the details then.”

      “How’s he gonna do that? He can barely move.” Chet drove toward Wyatt’s place.

      “I don’t know.”

      “Wyatt won’t like it that you’re meeting him again.”

      “I don’t recall being accountable to my brother, not since I turned eighteen.” Jason met Chet’s gaze, holding it until the older man looked away.

      “It’s your skin.”

      They turned into the yard of the ranch, which was a hive of activity. All the siblings were leaving today. Everyone was packing up their things, filling vehicles. Tara was taking Jason to the airport, so he hastily grabbed his bags and slung them in the back of her car.

      “What did Pal want?” Wyatt asked, coming around the front of Addie’s truck.

      “He wasn’t specific, unfortunately.”

      “So you’re not going to work for him.” It wasn’t a question.

      “Haven’t decided yet. He said he’s coming out to LA. We’ll talk then.”

      “You cannot work for that man!” Addie’s voice carried over the car’s roof.

      “Like hell,” Wyatt barked in the same instant.

      Jason’s hackles rose. “Addie, Wyatt, back off.” He slammed the trunk. “I’m not a child. He’ll come to the office, I’ll deal with him there. End of story.”

      “I don’t trust him.”

      Jason laughed. “If you knew most of my clients, you wouldn’t trust them, either.” He thought of the business partners who inhabited the corner offices and the upper floors. Wasn’t much trust there, either. They were as cold-blooded as Pal. He turned to face his older brother, purposefully changing the subject. “It’s been a good visit. You tell the others your news?”

      Wyatt shook his head. “Emily doesn’t want to say anything yet. She’s—”

      “No problem.” Jason smiled. “But you’d better tell them all at once. Word gets around in this family like wildfire.”

      “Yeah.” Wyatt looked over at Emily, a smile tugging on his lips. Jason knew that look, that silent communication from when they’d been kids. “Hey, everyone.”

      Emily obviously knew her new husband, too. Her eyebrows lifted as she shrugged and smiled, walking toward Wyatt. “You want to? Now?” she whispered.

      “Yeah.” He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her against his side. “We have news.” A gasp waved around the group gathered between the cars.

      “We got married!” Emily practically burst with the words. Jason laughed. Neither one of them had really wanted to keep this secret. And he was relieved to find the attention focused elsewhere. Now he didn’t have to explain his business with Pal.

      This was a much better way to end this visit.

       CHAPTER TWO

      GROWING UP IN TEXAS, Jason’s experience with dancing involved square dances, country bars and prom—oh, and those not-to-be-forgotten