Hate Me Like You Care - First Chapter
/Are you ready for Randi and Becks? Check out the first chapter of HATE ME LIKE YOU CARE…
Few things fuel my high like a willing woman in bed or a gas pedal vibrating beneath my foot, accelerating an engine’s purr. Tonight, the second assumes center stage. Laughter rumbles through my chest, adrenaline feeding on the intoxicating combination of speed and anticipated victory.
Eighty, eighty-five, ninety—the needle creeps up, my hands curling around the leather-wrapped steering wheel until my knuckles are white.
On the periphery, Chip’s red hood gains the lead, but there’s no way that jackass will get the best of me. Not on my turf. There’s a fiery corner reserved for him in hell, and I’d sooner occupy his spot than listen to Chip ‘I’m the man’ Dallas rub a win in my face.
Our headlights bounce off the deserted road near Ellbury’s town limit, farmland as far as the naked eye can see. He’s driving a tight race, but he’ll lose steam at the upcoming bend. Chip doesn’t know this town. I’ve traveled these roads so many times I could drive them with my eyes closed, but that’s a challenge for another day.
Anticipating the curve as the needle passes one hundred, my muscles ease the wheel left, but instead of slowing to make the slight bend, Chip loses control, swerving. Son of a— Slamming the brake, my tires jerk the wheel left and right. Battling for control is useless.
My high plummets like a brick flung from a water tower. Asphalt morphs into a split-rail fence, barreling toward me under the illumination of headlights like a damn spotlight before a bone-jarring halt turns everything black.
* * *
There’s no place I’d rather wake up less than in a holding cell at Ellbury Police Station. And there’s no place I’d least like to be than where I am now, seated in the same room as the father of the man my brother nearly killed nine years ago—better known as Chief of Police Meeks. But the party doesn’t end there. His best friend, Robert Goss, father of the man my brother meant to harm, has joined us. Of all places to wreck a car, it had to be Goss Ranch.
Unconsciousness teases at the edge of my pounding head. I’m not dying, or so the EMT said, but the searing pang running from my neck down my spine begs to differ. Though my eyelids droop, the looming presence of two prominent Ellbury men keeps them wide.
“I lost a cow due to his recklessness.” Robert Goss sweeps a sun-tanned hand in my direction. “Not to mention he destroyed a section of fencing, letting out half a dozen pairs. Randi and Tim will be up all night tracking them down and putting up temporary fencing until we can move the herd to a new pasture.”
Rancher isn’t on my job resume, so besides the lost-a-cow part, I’m clueless about what damage the car inflicted on his operation. Judging by how Chief Meeks runs a hand down his drained face, it isn’t minor. The chief’s stern glare hooks mine from the other side of his desk, his jaw locked tighter than a virgin’s knees. I get it, man. You didn’t anticipate being called into the office in the middle of the night to deal with my sorry ass.
“What were you thinking, Jacoby? You’re twenty-five. We aren’t dealing with juvenile charges anymore.”
The collateral for winning isn’t juvenile, either. “It was an accident. I lost control.”
Goss plants his palms on the edge of the chief’s desk, their faces lined with exhaustion and ire. No one believes I was out for an evening drive; no sense in pleading my case. “He needs consequences for his actions.”
“Aside from nearly losing his life. It’s a miracle you’re not laid up in a hospital bed, Jacoby. If you’d hit that cow straight on rather than clipping her…” Clicking the pen in his hand, Chief Meeks huffs. “What do you suggest, Robert? I’ve got him on endangerment and reckless driving, and property damage. We’re looking at six months. Think that’ll whip him into shape this time?”
It’s a rhetorical question, dry and depleted like he already knows the answer and doesn’t know what else to do with me.
Goss’s jaw works. His scrutiny is unsettling, but I’m well acquainted with the face of disappointment. It’s all I know from my old man, from most people in this town.
Leaning into Chief Meeks’s ear, he lowers his voice, and there’s not enough energy in my body to convince me to strain for a listen. The chief wasn’t kidding when he said I’m lucky to be alive. I don’t know how I’m sitting here.
With a curt nod, the chief leans back, and Goss folds his brawny arms.
“I’ll make a deal with you, Jacoby.” Goss leans his hip against the desk. “In exchange for keeping criminal charges off your record, I’m gonna offer you a chance to work off damages.”
Come again?
“You’ll come work at the ranch until a new cow is paid for and the fence is mended.”
I’m no expert, but livestock can’t be cheap.
“It’ll take you a couple months, maybe three depending on how hard-working you are and how often you can come by.”
I blink. Goss won’t have me charged? Is the chief gonna let this fly? “Why make a deal with me?” There must be a catch.
“Because if your previous stints behind bars didn’t help you, it’s not gonna rehabilitate you now, and I’m not gonna make my ranch hands repair damages they didn’t cause.”
Do some ranch work, and don’t return to a jail cell.
“Do we have a deal?”
Being behind bars isn’t an option for more reasons than my not wanting to be there. Goss wins. Cracking my knuckles, I sigh. “I guess we do.”
Goss relaxes. “Okay, what are you doing for employment right now? I’ve seen you working with Harrison Construction. You have something permanent?”
I clear my throat, working the muscles at the back of my neck. “Permanent? No. I take work when I’m needed.”
Running his tongue along his lower lip, he nods. “All right. You can work around whatever jobs you have, as long as they’re legal. Are we clear?”
Why bother bristling? No sense in pretending I haven’t worked on the wrong side of the law to make ends meet. Instead, I dip my head in agreement.
Chief Meeks’s unimpressed gaze doesn’t hold the level of hostility I’d expect. He appears indifferent, clicking his pen as he sits low in his chair. This man doesn’t want to be here any more than I do.
“Are we done here, Robert?” he asks.
“I think so, as long as Becks and I are on the same page.” Goss stares, raking a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “Do you have a car?”
I force my heavy lids to remain open. “My brother’s old truck.” A tin can on four wheels, but I’m restoring it. The girl gets me from point A to point B.
His weathered brow wrinkles as he studies me. “They checked you out, didn’t they?”
“They?” It takes too long for his meaning to click. “Uh, yeah. Yes. Said I was good to go.” I skim the gash on my forehead. I probably have a concussion, but screw those hospital bills. I’ll handle it on my own.
“Do you have any work lined up tomorrow?”
I manage two shakes of my head before my brain rattles, and he continues, “It’s been a long enough night. How about you drop by the ranch around noon?”
Manual labor is the last thing my body is capable of in its current condition, but with my options lacking, I nod.
I should have asked more questions because the extent of my injuries hits two minutes after the chief releases me. Struggling to stay on my feet, I grip the railing outside the precinct. What now? Zane’s truck is at Ethan’s. Who will pick me up at this time of night? At the police station? There’s not a guy in the crew who doesn’t make it a point to stay far away from here.
Loitering on the curb, I scroll my contacts for the most reliable option when a hand lands on my shoulder. “Need a lift?”
Hissing at the pain radiating up my neck, I ease out of his grip as Robert Goss’s fatigued eyes bore into mine.
“I’m calling a buddy.”
“Will he come get you?”
Fat chance he’ll answer my call. Ethan’s the closest thing to family I’ve got on this side of prison bars, but tonight he’s making up with Trisha after a week of not speaking. If he’s not passed out by this point, they’re otherwise occupied. I’ll risk walking.
The ground sways. “Becks?” Goss extends a hand.
“I doubt he’s available.” And I’m more likely to pass out on the side of the road if I walk.
“All right. I can give you a lift.”
Peering down the center of town, my fingertips knead my neck. “I’m staying with a friend. He lives across town limits in Davis.”
“Then you’re a short distance past the ranch. Let’s go.”
After asking for directions, he pulls out of the parking lot and turns right with silent tension.
At three in the morning, Robert Goss’s eyes droop and his face is drawn, but his stiff spine conveys control even in worn jeans and a tee advertising cattle feed.
Questions about his motivation scroll through my mind as his truck bounces along the pot-holed Ellbury roads, the rhythmic whir of the tires coaxing my eyelids lower and lower.
“That’s a nasty gash on your head. You gonna be all right for the night?”
Clearing my throat, I shift. “I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time. I’ll be fine.” Even if it throbs like someone took a mallet to my forehead. Life is gonna suck when the painkillers wear off. Thankfully the EMT slipped a bottle of Ibuprofen into my pocket, but that’ll barely touch this ache.
Goss grunts and the silence stretches again. In a town not six miles wide, the drive drags, like we’re heading out of Kansas.
“It might not seem like it now, but this is a good opportunity for you.”
Depends on which glasses you’re looking through. Keeping additional charges off my record isn’t something I’m ungrateful for, but spending a few weeks in jail isn’t new. Consistent meals and a roof over my head—guys with my upbringing don’t balk at those necessities. But there’s no taking care of business behind bars, and not taking care of business puts more than my well-being at risk.
“You should accept this as a step in the right direction, something you can build off. You don’t need to follow in your brother’s footsteps.”
Discussing Zane with Robert Goss isn’t happening. Not today. Not ever. He wronged someone this man loves. But Goss doesn’t know the person I know. No one does. Is Zane a good man? Maybe not. But he’s never turned his back on me.
“There’s something different in you, Becks. You could do so much more with your life.”
Like he knows anything about me. Biting my tongue, I turn toward the passenger side window. A fatherly pep talk is the last thing I’m interested in, but I have no energy to contradict him. I just want sleep.
“Look. Maybe this arrangement isn’t what you had in mind, and I can’t say it’s ideal for me either, but we’ll get something out of it.”
My hand works my sore shoulder. How will the crew react when they hear I took this deal? They can’t know. They’ll never let up. Harassing me for staying out of half the crap they’re involved in is one thing. With how they feel about the Goss family after the incident with Ridley and his best friend Lincoln Meeks, they may see my cooperation as a betrayal. Or an invitation to open old wounds.
After a millennium, aka ten minutes, we pull up behind Zane’s truck at Ethan’s, idling as Goss scans the rundown single-wide. Weeds sprout across the patch of grass Ethan calls a front yard, paint peeling from the wood side porch, and dingy yellow siding falls loose here and there. Yeah, this isn’t the best of areas. No worse than where I grew up, but it’s no Goss Ranch.
Goss clears his throat and looks at me. “If you have any doubts about driving tomorrow afternoon, this is my number.” He digs in his pocket and hands over a business card. “Don’t hesitate to call. Getting in another wreck is the opposite of what we’re trying to accomplish here.”
My thumb swipes over the Goss Ranch emblem embossed across the top.
“I’ll see you at noon.”