When Summer Comes (Whiskey Creek #3)(77)
Author: Brenda Novak

Relieved, Cheyenne carried plates of cake and cups of coffee into the living room. Everyone was talking and laughing as usual. The atmosphere was more upbeat than Fridays at Black Gold had been the past several weeks. Cheyenne was especially excited when Levi finally emerged from the bedroom. She liked him immediately. She liked the way he looked at Callie.

But then she caught a glimpse of her husband’s face and realized that something was wrong. He wasn’t saying anything. He was just sitting on the couch, glowering.

Slipping through the others who were returning their plates to the kitchen or getting more coffee, she sat down next to him.

“What’s wrong, Dyl?” she murmured. “You don’t seem happy.” She couldn’t imagine why. Like the other guys, he’d been hesitant to participate in Eve’s little “intervention,” but what he’d feared hadn’t come to pass. Callie hadn’t been offended; there’d been no arguing. They were all having a great time. Except him.

He nodded over at Levi, who was busy talking to Baxter and Noah. “I know that guy,” he said.

* * *

“What do you mean you know him?” Noah asked but only because he beat Baxter to it. Dylan was driving his Jeep. Cheyenne was in the passenger seat and Noah sat in the back with Baxter. Riley and Kyle had left with Eve in her 1994 Mercedes convertible, so they hadn’t heard the bomb Dylan had dropped just as they turned out of the farm’s driveway.

“I mean, his name’s not Levi McCloud.” Dylan glanced in his rearview mirror, but he was wearing sunglasses, so Baxter couldn’t tell if he was looking at him or Noah. “It’s Levi Pendleton.”

Cheyenne rested her head against the window. She was obviously listening, but she wasn’t looking at her husband. In the mirror attached to the sun visor, Baxter could see the frown that tugged at her lips as she watched the scenery pass by. She didn’t like what he was saying any more than they did.

“How do you know?” Baxter asked.

Dylan shifted into a higher gear. “Because he’s one of the best ultimate fighters I’ve ever seen.”

Cheyenne turned away from the window. “Callie seems so happy. Just the expression on her face when she looks at him tells me she’s in love. Are you sure you’re not mistaken?”

He placed a hand on her leg. “I’m positive.”

So many questions were going through Baxter’s mind he didn’t know which one to ask first. “Where did you see him before? And…and when was this?”

“It’s been years, back when I was fighting myself.”

“But you met a lot of fighters back then.” Cheyenne still seemed to hope she could create some doubt so she wouldn’t have to accept what her husband was saying.

Dylan’s mouth was a straight slash beneath those mirrored glasses. “Like I said. He was one of the best. We all watched him. Carefully.”

“Sounds to me like he has a lot to be proud of,” Noah said. “So why would he say his name is McCloud? And why would he be wandering around without a home or family or friends?”

Dylan hesitated as if he didn’t want to respond. But he eventually came out with it. “Because he’s wanted for assaulting a couple of police officers in Nevada.”

“Shit,” Noah said. “How do you know that?”

“Everyone in the MMA world heard about it. It happened a couple of years ago. He put those two officers in the hospital.” His voice dropped. “One with fairly severe injuries.”

“And he got away with it?” Baxter asked.

“Far as I know, he was never caught.”

Noah slumped in his seat. “I can’t believe this. Callie finally falls for someone, and he’s lying to her. Kyle was worried about that guy from the beginning. He’s going to freak out.”

Baxter knew more than any of them just how much Levi meant to Callie. “What was Levi doing with those cops, anyway? Were they trying to take him in for something else?”

“Seems like he was drunk and causing trouble. But I’m not sure exactly what went down before the fight broke out.”

“Why didn’t the policemen use their guns?” Noah asked.

“He disarmed them before they could get a shot off,” Dylan replied.

Baxter didn’t like boxing, let alone ultimate fighting. He didn’t care for sports in general. If he’d heard about this incident he hadn’t paid enough attention to remember it. “This happened two years ago?”

“I think it was the summer before last. He hadn’t been fighting for a while—it’d been six or seven years since his last fight and a bit longer than that since I saw him—but it was still news.”

Noah shoved Dylan’s shoulder. “Did you ever fight him, Dyl?”

“No,” he replied. “I’m glad I never had to. I started cage fighting with very little training. Desperation—that was all I had on my side. I had to make some money or Child Protective Services would come in and take my brothers away. He grew up being groomed for the sport.”

“Come on, don’t you think you could’ve taken him?” Noah asked.

“In all honesty, he probably would’ve kicked my ass,” Dylan said. “He rarely lost a fight. Trust me, he was something special.”

“So instead of being able to feel Callie’s okay, we’re back to worrying about her,” Cheyenne said. “What are we going to do now?”

“We have to confront her,” Noah replied. “We can’t let her go on thinking she’s found Mr. Right. He’s wanted by the police. Assaulting an officer is serious. He could go to prison.”

Baxter wanted to speak up, to tell them they shouldn’t say anything. If Levi left town like Callie expected, he wouldn’t have to know about her, and she wouldn’t have to know about him. As far as he was concerned, that was fair and a blessing to them both. But he had to think of some kind of logic to back up his opinion, since they didn’t have any idea about Callie’s illness.

Dylan shoved a hand through his hair. “That may be true, but I don’t want to narc on him.”

“Even to protect one of our best friends?” Cheyenne seemed surprised, and that made Dylan shift uncomfortably in his seat.

“I don’t want anything bad to happen to Callie. That’s why I’m telling you guys. But I can’t turn him in. Maybe that would be the right thing to do, but…maybe not. It’s just not in me to decide his fate like that. I’ve been in trouble too many times myself, and only a fraction of them were really my fault.”