“Your brother has always needed time to process things.” As always, Sylvie was with an unwarranted defense of her oldest son’s actions. “Not everyone is as strong as you, Dylan.”
Knowing from bitter experience that nothing he could say would penetrate his mother’s thick layer of self-denial, Dylan saved himself the headache and moved on to more important matters.
“How old is the child?” He kept his voice even-keeled and his expression blank. “And how long has Tanner known about her?”
“She was born eighteen months ago. He’s known for almost a year,” Sylvie insisted.
“A year?” Dylan’s fingers curled into a fist. “And he didn’t do anything?”
“Tanner sent money. A little here. A little there. Ten thousand dollars just before the mother died.” She lowered her chin. “I know what you’re going to say.”
“And yet, I feel the need to speak the words anyway. Look at me, Mother.” Dylan waited until Sylvie raised her eyes to his. “Tanner isn’t independently wealthy. He doesn’t have a steady job. Where would he get ten thousand dollars?”
“From me.” Sylvie rushed to explain. “I didn’t mind.”
“Of course.” Dylan’s head fell forward.
“You take care of me, Dylan. The house, my expenses, the money deposited into my account each month. All are because of you.” Sylvie’s distress was palpable. “You’re angry.
“No,” Dylan assured her. He was furious. “The money is yours to spend as you wish. But the fact that you let Tanner pay child support without finding out about your grandchild’s safety and wellbeing is a shock.”
“Tanner told me he needed the money to invest in a business venture,” Sylvie insisted. “How can you believe I would be so cavalier about my flesh and blood?”
Dylan’s mother could be flighty and sometimes she wasn’t the deepest person. However, where family was concerned, she was fiercely steadfast. Her love was unconditional, her loyalty absolute.
Unfortunately, left at a young age to raise a pair of sons on her own, Sylvie Montgomery hadn’t been equipped to play the role of disciplinarian. Tanner and Dylan were left to develop a sense of right and wrong and decide exactly what kind of men they wanted to be.
Dylan chose the structured world of sports—football to be specific. The daily routine kept him grounded and to reach his goal of playing professionally, he didn’t have time to get into trouble.
On the other hand, Dylan’s older brother had nothing but time and Tanner used every second to get into one mess after another. And now, after a lifetime of self-indulgent carelessness where he walked away without a backward glance, his crimes had finally come home to roost.
“I can’t solve the problem this time, Mom.” Dylan was determined not to cave. “Another human is involved. An innocent child. His child. Tanner needs to step up.”
“I’ll talk to him.” Sylvie held up a hand before Dylan could argue. “I won’t let Tanner walk away from his responsibilities. Not this time.”
“Good.” Dylan wanted to believe her.
“However…”
“No!” Dylan shook his head. “Nothing you can say will make me get involved. Nothing.”
“I know how unfair Tanner and I have been to you,” Sylvie said with genuine regret. “Without your father, I was weak. For too long I’ve relied on you to make my problems—your brother’s misdeeds—disappear.”
Dylan didn’t respond because he had nothing to add. When he was younger, he used his brains whenever possible to pull Tanner’s butt from the fire. When necessary, he used his fists. After he signed his first contract with the Seattle Knights, he could afford to hire professionals to ease his burden a bit.
However, Dylan finally hit his limit when Tanner was arrested for driving under the influence. Putting his own life in danger was bad enough. What if someone else had been injured? What if someone died?
Dylan told his brother then and there to get help. He paid for rehab. If Tanner screwed up again, he was on his own. No more get out of jail free cards.
“You’re an uncle,” Sylvie said when Dylan was about to leave. She pulled out the blood is thicker than water card without an ounce of shame. “Aren’t you worried about your niece? Don’t you want to make certain she—an innocent child—is okay?”
“How can you be certain the child is Tanner’s?” Dylan asked. Feeling his resolve slip, he grasped at the only straw he had at his disposal. “Do you expect me to swoop in and play fairy god uncle when I have no proof the girl is related to me?”
“Tanner swears a DNA test was performed.”
“And you believed him?” Dylan asked.
“Why would he lie?” Sylvie cleared her throat.
“Drink some tea before you choke on your words,” Dylan instructed. When Sylvie did as he asked, he continued. “Tanner and the truth have never been on good terms. Why should now be any different?”
“I want to take his word. But we aren’t talking about a minor infraction. A child’s life doesn’t equal a fender bender.”
Dylan sensed when the metaphorical knife slid into his gut. Looking into Sylvie’s eyes, filled with a lifetime of disappointment and regret, he felt the blade twist. The pain was sharp, the result inevitable. The only bit left of his crumbling resolve disappeared like the proverbial dust in the wind.
“What do you want me to do?” Dylan asked.
Sylvie didn’t gloat. Dylan knew she didn’t relish dipping into her arsenal of maternal guilt. But as always, to protect her own, a mother did what a mother had to do.
“Find the little girl. Make certain she’s truly a Montgomery.” Steel entered Sylvie’s gaze. “If she’s ours, no matter what, bring her home.”
▲ ▼ ▲ ▼ ▲
CHAPTER ONE
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SATURDAY NIGHT AT Shady Dan’s was exactly what Dylan expected for a tavern on the outskirts of a small, working-class town. The room was full, the air ripe with the smell of alcohol and warm bodies. The waitresses—five that he could count—had to shout to be heard over
