Ryker’s Justice Read Online Free Page A

Alfred, Lord Tennyson popped into his head from a literature
class. “The lady of something” ,Jude thought as he recalled bits and
pieces of the poem. It’d been something about a reclusive woman living in a
tower, watching the world go past on the river below. “Watching’s okay but
doing is much better,” he told her. As soon as he spoke, he realized his words
could hold a double meaning. From the way her eyes sparkled and her lips pursed
into a smile, he knew she realized it, too.
    “I’d
like to do it,” Nicole said.
    “Sure,
if we can work it in while you’re here. How long are you staying?”
    “At
least until Thanksgiving,” Nicole replied. In unison, the Cockrells turned toward her, mouths drooping, eyes wide. Apparently they hadn’t expected
her answer. She added, “If, of course, there are rooms available.”
    Mary
responded with enthusiasm. “Oh, honey, sure there are! From Thanksgiving on,
we’re almost fully booked because we’ve got people who always come during the
holidays. We put up a huge tree in the lobby and decorate the place. We sing
carols in the parlor every night and Rick has a lot of traditional recipes.
Remind me after we finish and I’ll go to the desk to book you, if that’s really
what you want.”
    “Yes,
thanks.”
    Jude
suspected her decision related to him and their mutual interest. If so, he
liked the idea but he wondered what happened after he tracked down the moonshiners.
His original plan had been to return to his life far away but he enjoyed being
back in his native country, and he liked Nicole. Anything could happen, though,
and he didn’t want her basing decisions on what might or might not happen
between them. I’ll give it a chance, see
what happens, and deal with whatever comes.
    Mary
distracted him with an unexpected comment. “Your mama sure loved the holidays,
Jude.”
    Had
she? He barely remembered but vague memories stirred. For a few seconds, he
swore he could smell evergreen and thought he recalled watching his mother roll
out cookie dough. “I suppose she did.”
    “Oh,
yes. I always forget you’re the last one and don’t always remember everything,”
the older woman said with kindness. “But we grew up together, your mama and me.
We were good friends. It sure was a shame about her passing away so young.”
    “Yeah,”
Jude said. He might not remember the holidays with clarity, but he did recall
every detail of the day his mother died. Jude also realized, with more than a
little dismay, that his mom had been younger than he was now. Memory hit him
with force and he shut his eyes for a moment as the past stretched out in his
mind, stinging him with pain as he recalled the details of that fateful
afternoon.
    It had been summer, a hot day
with relentless sunshine baking down over the old house despite the shade trees
around it. His mom had been canning tomatoes so the kitchen rivaled hell for
heat. His older brothers had been gone haying, Jude thought, and his sisters
had spread a blanket on the front porch. From his perch in the tree house, he
had watched as they played with their dolls and pretended to be mommies, not
little girls. Then Jude recalled how he’d stretched out on his back to watch a
few clouds drift through the otherwise clear blue sky. He had decided each one
must be an animal or object in disguise, a game Adam had taught him, and
watched the parade of elephants, pirate ships in full sail, and bears cross the
sky.
    Everything had been normal until
Esther stood up and announced she was going in to get some lemonade. Jude
remembered the sharp twang the old screen door made as it swung outward, and
how moments later his sister shrieked. Esther and Abigail both had been prone
to screaming and yelling worse than banshees, but this time there had been
something different in the sound, more alarm or something. His belly twisted
into a knot and by the time Esther burst through the door to fetch Abigail,
he’d known something was really