Page 37 of Whispers

“Not here.”

“You’re sure?” Weston asked, then muttered under his breath, “Son of a bitch. I called the office in Portland and . . . oh, hell, they said he was here.”

“What’s got into you?”

Weston ran the fingers of both hands through his hair, then glanced over his shoulder at Crystal, but she didn’t seem to pay him any attention as she studied her reflection in the rearview mirror and applied another layer of glossy lipstick.

Everybody’s got a hungry heart . . .

“It’s the same damn thing it always is.” Weston swiped the sweat from his brow with his bare hand.

“What thing?”

Weston’s eyes narrowed into slits. “The rumor.”

“The wha—oh. That one.” Harley finally understood. “The one about Dad having other kids—illegitimate ones?”

“Just one. A son.”

“If you believe the rumors, yes.” Harley didn’t give two cents about the old lie that had been attached to Neal Taggert and his womanizing. Who cared?

“It doesn’t bother you?”

“I don’t lose any sleep over it.”

“Don’t you realize if it’s true and this guy—this bastard of a half brother—ever steps forward, he might want a cut of everything?”

“So?”

“Christ, Harley, are you really that much of a moron?”

Harley’s blood ran hot. “I just don’t let things I can’t control bother me. Where’d you hear it this time? From some guy three sheets to the wind at the Westwind Bar and Grill? Or over at Stone Illahee—Dutch Holland is always ready to spread a rumor about Dad? Or maybe from one of the gossips who hang out at the coffee shop?”

“No,” Weston drawled, his lips thin with disdain for his younger brother. “This time I heard it from Mom.”

Harley laughed. “Oh, great. Like she’s never trying to get your goat. I don’t know what happened between you, but Mom likes nothing better than to irritate the hell out of you and send you off on some wild-goose chase.”

“Jesus, Harl, you’re beyond hope!” Weston squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, as if wondering how they could possibly be related.

“And you’re jumping at shadows. What were you gonna do if Dad was here? Accuse him of having another little family tucked away?”

“I’d just ask for the truth.”

“A good way to get cut out of the will, Wes, and we all know that no matter what, you’d never do anything to jeopardize getting your rather substantial piece of the Taggert financial pie.”

“At least I don’t sit around on my ass doing nothing, nothing, and just expect to inherit money.”

“I don’t expect anything.”

Weston slid a glance at Harley’s Jaguar and the fine layer of sawdust that had settled on the car’s sparkling paint job. “Yeah, right. Look, it doesn’t matter. I’ll catch up with Dad later.”

“Do that. And tell him to say ‘Hi’ to our half brother, would ya?”

“Go to hell, Harl.”

Harley chuckled as Weston turned back to his sports car and Crystal. It was so rare that he could get one up on Wes, that watching his older brother’s frustration warmed the dark cockles of his heart.

A shrill whistle blew as Weston wheeled his Porsche out of the parking lot. Across the street, behind tall mesh fences boasting signs about worker safety, it was time for the shift to change. Harley hurried to his car. He didn’t want to have to make small talk with any of the workers. It wasn’t that he was a snob, he told himself. He just didn’t have anything in common with them.