“Let’s say for the sake of argument my aunt is right about karma,” Lucy said. “If it’s true, then sooner or later the day will arrive when you might need saving.”
“So?”
“Ever wonder who rescues a professional guardian angel when he gets into trouble?”
She slammed the door of the truck before he could answer and went quickly toward the front porch, where Sara waited. So much for the most romantic night of her life.
2
Mason watched Lucy greet her aunt and enter the old house. He waited until the door closed behind the pair before he put the truck in gear and drove back along the orchard lane.
Ever wonder who rescues a professional guardian angel when he gets into trouble?
Lucy was wrong. He was no guardian angel. He was just doing what had to be done when he yanked her out of Brinker’s party tonight. With her aunt out of town, she hadn’t had anyone to look out for her. She was too naive and too innocent to know the devil when he was in disguise. If the rumors were true, Brinker was definitely straight from hell.
Mason made a note to talk to Sara Sheridan in the morning. She needed to know what had almost happened tonight.
It would have been good if Uncle Deke were in town. Deke could have explained things to Sara. She would have listened to him. People always listened to Deke. But Deke had deployed again and was not due back for several months. That meant that Mason would have to have the conversation with Sara. Together they would protect Clueless Lucy.
When he reached the main road he drove back to the scene of the party. The old Harper Ranch had been abandoned years ago. The pastures where cattle had once grazed had reverted to nature. No one had lived in the dilapidated house in decades. Tristan Brinker had commandeered the barn for his parties this past summer. The local kids were drawn to him like moths to a flame. And always there at his side was Quinn Colfax. Together they reigned over the teenagers of Summer River.
The party was still in progress, but Brinker’s high-end sports car was not among the vehicles arrayed around the barn. Neither was Quinn Colfax’s brand-new SUV. They were both too smart to leave their easily identifiable cars in full view of anyone who happened to drive past the ranch. It was true that their rich fathers would bail them out of jail if they got picked up. But Warner Colfax and Jeffrey Brinker would both be annoyed if their sons were dumb enough to get caught.
Tristan and Quinn were new in town, but they qualified as full-on rock stars. Their fathers were partners in a hedge fund. The headquarters of the business was located in Silicon Valley, but, like a number of other successful entrepreneurs in the Bay Area, they liked to spend their weekends in the wine country. Savvy businessmen that they were, they had figured out fast that Summer River would see the next big vineyard boom.
The relentless wave of the wine business had been rolling across Northern California for more than a hundred years. It had picked up speed in recent decades, washing away the old pear and apple orchards and the ranchlands and dairy farms in its path. Now it was Summer River’s turn. The first vineyards had been planted in the foothills outside of town. It would not be long before there would be wineries springing up all across the valley.
In a few years the sleepy little town of Summer River would probably be transformed into an upmarket boutique village, just as Healdsburg, Sebastopol, Napa and the other old farm towns in the region had been changed. Property values were already starting to climb. Mason had been counting on that fact when he had talked Deke into financing the fixer-upper that was intended to help pay the steep tuition at Aaron’s fancy college. When he was finished with the remodel, it would be worth nearly double what they had paid for it.
Mason continued on past the turnoff that led to the barn. He took the unmarked, unpaved side road that followed the river.
It didn’t take long to find the two vehicles. They were parked in the trees. It might be a while before Brinker and Colfax returned, but Mason was prepared to wait as long as was necessary.
He parked the truck behind the sports car and the SUV, blocking the path back to the road. He got out and walked down to the water’s edge. From where he stood he could not see the barn, but he could hear the muffled sound of the blaring music.
For a time he watched the full moon dancing on the river. The surface of the water appeared to move in slow motion, but the languid-looking ripples were deceptive. Summer River was deep in some places, and the currents were strong. Every year brought reports of people who went wading and got swept away. A few months back there had been another report of a car accident on River Road. The vehicle had gone off the cliff at Lookout Point and landed in the swift-running water. The driver had not survived.
Maybe you should consider a career in law enforcement.
Mason thought about that. The truth was he had never spent much time pondering his own future. Since the death of his parents he had been too busy putting one foot in front of the other, obeying his father’s deathbed instructions. Take care of your brother. You two stick together.
But soon Aaron would be in college and headed off into his own bright future. And then there would be no one left to take care of, Mason thought. Maybe it was time to think about what the hell he actually wanted to do with his life.
But first he had to take care of Lucy.
The early indication that Brinker’s party was over came when the music was abruptly cut off. Someone had probably driven past the old ranch and complained to the police. Chief Hobbs would have been forced to send a couple of officers out to shut things down. Lucy was right, it was unlikely that anyone would be arrested. The kids would scatter. A couple of the slow movers might get written up, but that would be the end of it.
The sound of pounding footsteps interrupted Mason’s thoughts. He turned and saw two bobbing flashlights. A moment later Tristan Brinker and Quinn Colfax burst out of the trees and into the clearing.
They ran for their vehicles, breathing hard and trying to muffle their laughter. They each had a grip on the handles of a big foam ice chest.
“Did you see the look on the cop’s face when that dumb blonde offered him a bottle of the good stuff?” Brinker laughed. “He looked like he was gonna explode.”
“Think he saw us?” Quinn asked uneasily.
“Who gives a shit? He knows we were there, but he can’t prove there were any drugs.” Brinker slowed to a walk and fished his keys out of his pocket. “He’s not going to try, either. He’s done his job. He closed down the party. Wonder who complained this time?”