Page 80 of Jensen

No amount of money can buy freedom.

I learned that, good and hard.

Something hurts. I glance down, noticing I’m picking back the cuticle of my thumbnail again. I used to push my hands under the dinner table and just tear at it while Leland talked to his guests. Something to focus on. Pain I could control.

“Stop that,” he says softly.

I glance up, wordless.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” he says. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

He’s locked away still, but I know after last night, he’s not angry with me anymore. I think his grumpiness this morning has more to do with where we’re headed than me.

We pull off the road deep in the countryside. To the right, iron gates surround endless green hills and pear trees. Jensen leans out of the door and hits a button on the gatepost. There’s a crackle, then: “Please state your name and purpose.”

“Jensen Childress,” he says.

He doesn’t state his purpose.

The gates creak and slide apart, and he pulls through. I’m used to the grandeur of the Caudills, but the classic beauty of the Boyd estate as it rolls into view is something new. It looks recent, maybe built in the last twenty years. Everything is dark stone, big windows,perfectly kept gardens, a looped driveway of glittering white gravel. Jensen pulls the truck up to the door and cuts the engine.

“I maybe should have worn something dressier,” I whisper.

He shakes his head, alighting the truck and circling to open my door. I start wriggling towards the edge, trying not to flash my panties. His hands encircle my waist, warm, strong. Heat travels out from his touch as he sets me down.

“Keep close to me,” he murmurs.

“Brothers won’t hurt me,” I insist.

His jaw twitches. “You listen. That was the deal.”

I nod. He guides me up the steps by the elbow. Before he can lift his hand to knock, the door swings open. There he is, in the flesh. Tall, lean, with a little lankiness, dripping charm so thick, I’m surprised he’s not attracting flies like honey.

“Welcome back,” he drawls.

He holds out his hand to Jensen, who shakes it, but in that grim way Leland used to with men he didn’t like at the racetrack.

Then, he leans in and kisses just above my cheekbone. His hand grazes my waist, right where Jensen’s sits. Jensen jerks back. Brothers pulls away with a televangelist smile.

“Y’all hungry? We’ve got lunch on the table,” he says.

Jensen doesn’t speak. His eyes are locked past Brothers, staring into the house like he’s at the gates of hell.

“Yeah, that would be lovely,” I say.

He ushers us into a vaulted front hall. “Excuse the mess,” he says, waving at nothing. “We’ve been doing a little renovating.”

We follow as he takes a sharp turn, and we’re in a huge dining room. The table is set with three plates. Brothers sinks down on one side, pointing at the seats across from him. I’m glad he didn’t take the head of the table. Leland always sat there. I hated it, the way he’d lord over everyone set me on edge.

Brothers gives me an easy, pleasant smile. My mind goes back to the day Kayleigh admitted she was sleeping with him. I was shocked, having never met him before. I just heard the stories swirling around the city. When she brought me to him so I could ask for help gettingLandis back, it all made sense. He’s not my type, too refined, too horse money for me. But he’s such an alluring personality, it’s hard to resist him.

A man and a woman in black clothes appear and fill our plates without speaking. The doors swing shut behind them. Brothers shakes out his napkin, laying it over his thigh.

“I apologize for the lack of wine or beer,” he says. “No liquor on the Lord’s Day, but I’ll get the cigarillos out with dessert.”

“I’m good,” says Jensen.

I just smile, and Brothers winks at me, like it’s instinctive to him.