“What the hell’s goin’ on here?” Max barked from across the room, not wasting any time closing the distance between us. While Wyatt was his brother, I knew Max placed my safety over his familial loyalty.
“Nothin’,” Wyatt said, lifting his gaze to his brother but still holding on to my arm.
I jerked free from his grip.
“Don’t you ever touch me again,” I spat, still trying to keep quiet, but it was too late for that. We’d garnered the attention of the entire bar, including Ruth, who stood in the doorway to the back.
“You can just get on out of here, Wyatt Drummond,” she announced, pointing to the front door.
His glance shifted from me to Ruth, and he said in a no-nonsense tone, “I’m puttin’ shelves in for Max.”
“Not right now you’re not,” Max said, his voice hard. “You need to leave. Right now.”
Wyatt stared at him in disbelief. “You’ve got to be shittin’ me!” His gaze landed on me, his eyes hard. “You know I’m right. You’re just too damn stubborn to admit it.”
Fear and panic mingled in my head. I couldn’t believe he was being so careless. Was he purposely trying to get me killed? He wasn’t that callous, so I suspected he was making me uncomfortable on purpose, in an attempt to drive me out of Drum.
“I’m not gonna tell you twice, Wyatt,” Max said, his hand on the knife he kept strapped to his outer thigh in case a customer got too rowdy.
In a disgruntled huff, Wyatt snatched up his toolbox and wood, then stalked to the front door. But he stopped and stared pointedly at me, letting me know our conversation wasn’t done, before he walked out the door.
“Carly,” Max said. “My office. Now.”
“Oh, helllll no,” Ruth said, stepping between us, her eyes blazing. “You are not gonna take her to task when he was clearly manhandlin’ her! I don’t care what you think she might have done. There is no excuse.”
Max groaned. “Your lack of trust in me floors me some days, Ruth. I’m bringin’ her back there so she can collect herself without makin’ a damn scene!”
Given that his voice had risen with each word, his intention had been shot to hell. But truth be told, it had been shot to hell long before he’d even opened his mouth. The incident between me and Wyatt Drummond would make the rounds by morning.
I didn’t stick around for them to reach a consensus. Instead, I marched back to Max’s office and paced the hall, waiting for him to join me and preparing myself for the inevitable questions. We both knew this was uncharacteristic behavior for his brother.
Moments later, Max rounded the corner and watched me expel my nervous energy. I walked into his office, a small room that had once been a supply closet, then sat down in the guest chair while he followed me in and shut the door. He sat in his office chair and wheeled it closer to me.
“First off, are you all right?” he asked kindly.
I nodded, still furious, but my anxiety was quickly replacing my anger. “The only thing really wounded is my pride.”
“Okay, then. Now that that’s out of the way, what the hell just happened?” There was no anger or accusation in his voice, just confusion and a hint of fear.
Tears welled in my eyes. “I can’t tell you.”
He slammed his hand on his desk, and I jumped.
“That’s bullshit, Carly,” he said, his anger rising. “We both know my mother has something on you, and I suspect my brother was just out there playin’ her errand boy. The only way I can help you is if you tell me what’s goin’ on.”
Part of me wanted to tell him, to give him some string to piece together the bits and pieces he already knew, but I’d told Wyatt everything, and that had clearly been a mistake. It would be beyond foolish to bring another Drummond into the fold. “I can’t tell you.”
“Why did my mother call you Caroline last week in my apartment?”
I stared at the wall, pressing my lips together.
“I take it Wyatt knows.” It wasn’t a question.
“Let’s just say there was very little reciprocity when I shared my past with Wyatt,” I said bitterly. “Despite his promise to share his past with me in return.”
He stared at me for several long seconds, then pushed out a long breath and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. His face softened, and concern filled his eyes. “How are you doin’? Really? First you had to deal with that woman after lunch, and now Wyatt. Don’t bite my head off for sayin’ this, but you seem more rattled than you usually are in situations like this.”
He was right. Throw in the news about the Hardshaw Group, and I felt like I was trudging through mud. My emotions were all over the place.
“I’m still really shaken up about Jerry.” Which was true. The guilt grew with each passing day, and I knew the only way to ease some of the weight would be to find justice for him.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
I stared up at him in surprise.
“Girl, you’d best not consider going out to Hollywood to find fame and fortune as a movie star. Everything you’re thinkin’ is written all over your face. You blame yourself, and you have since the day he died. But I’m here to tell you that it wasn’t your fault.”
“What if it was?” I asked softly, knowing I needed to keep my mouth shut, yet I had to say it anyway. That guilt was pushing the words out. “What if Jerry was killed as a warning to me?”
He stared at me with a deadpan expression. “A warning for what?”
“I think you need to be asking who in this town would be out to get me.” Pushing out a sigh, I got to my feet.
“What does my mother want from you?” When I didn’t answer, he added with a hint of bitterness, “I’m no fool, despite what Ruth and the rest of you think.”
I turned to him in surprise. “I know you’re not a fool, Max, which is why I can’t help wondering why you let people think that you are.”
Anger flashed on his face, but it faded just as quickly. “Sometimes it’s easier to play the part of the fool, Carly Moore. No one pays much attention to you.” He motioned for the door. “Why don’t you head on out for the night? I can call in Trixie to cover for you.”
I shook my head. “I’m fine. I’d rather stay. Marco’s working tonight, but I’ll be heading to his house when I get off, since Hank has some buddies coming over for poker night.”
I was actually pretty pleased when he’d told me the day before. I’d been spending more time at Marco’s than Hank’s, and I worried about him getting lonely. He’d been making more of an effort to be more sociable with the people in town, which I saw as a step in the right direction.
“You don’t say,” he said, his Southern charm sliding back on like a comfortable sweater. “Hank used to have plenty of those back in the day. High stakes games for big money.”
I narrowed my eyes. “When you say back in the day . . . ?”
“From the look on your face, you know exactly what I’m talkin’ about. Back when he was runnin’ his drug empire and had plenty of money to spare.” He hesitated. “I know Hank seems like a cranky teddy bear now, but he used to run with some ugly men, and I ain’t just talkin’ about their looks. It’s a good thing you’re headed to Marco’s.”