Keeping What's His: Tate (Porter Brothers Trilogy Book 1) by Jamie Begley Page A

watching.”
    Sutton slid her plate of toast to Tate, not wanting him to get sick on an empty stomach. Greer reached out, taking a piece of the toast. That was when she decided, if she was going to get anything to eat, she was going to have to feed them first. She made a stack of toast and nuked a couple of packets of oatmeal. Setting the food down, she snatched one of the toast slices before the men could take it all.
    She chewed on the toast as Greer filled Tate in on the different agencies searching for him.
    “The state police came by during the middle of the night. They tore the house apart then went to Cash and Rachel’s house.”
    “They tear it apart, too?”
    “What do you think? Cash was standing there, watching every move they made.”
    “They were too afraid of Cash to tear his house apart, but you let them tear ours apart? I’m disappointed in you.”
    “Fuck off,” Greer grumbled. “I wasn’t there. I was in the woods with Dustin, trying to find any signs of who killed Lyle.”
    “Find anything?”
    “No.”
    “If Jo doesn’t know anything, ask if she will let you look through Lyle’s room.”
    “I’ll try. Probably won’t be anything left once the police are done.”
    Tate shrugged. “They might miss something.”
    Greer stood. “It’s gonna get busy, so be careful and stay inside. The police aren’t the only ones who might be searching for you.”
    “Leave me your gun. Whoever knocked me out took my shotgun. I stashed the one they used to shoot Lyle in our hole. When it gets dark, get it and give it to Cash. Maybe he can figure out who it’s registered to.”
    “Will do. The only good part of this mess is that we had already cleared the land and stashed the product.”
    “Do you think whoever did this could have been searching for your weed?” Sutton asked the two men.
    “Could be, but they’ll never find it,” Greer snickered. “It’s probably the best batch we’ve grown. They would have smoked it up before turning it in to evidence.”
    “I doubt that.”
    “Don’t. It’s some of the best. Most of what’s been grown lately is shit. The growers are trying to develop strong product for better buzz. Instead, they’re making it weaker. Others are selling that synthetic shit that’ll make you crazy as fuck. Ours is the best out there right now. I don’t care what state you live in. Tate is the best grower around,” Greer bragged.
    Sutton was curious despite herself. “If Tate is the grower, what do you do?”
    “I protect the fields then sell it when it’s done. Anyone who comes near our fields is either going to be left a cripple or dead.” He gave her a sinister grin, which ran chills down her back. She didn’t doubt his words.
    “What’s Dustin’s job?”
    Greer’s eyes narrowed on her. “You a Fed?” he asked suspiciously.
    “If I were, would I let Tate hide out at my house?”
    “You tell me.”
    Sutton rolled her eyes at Greer. He was still as obnoxious as he had been when he was younger.
    “Dustin dries it out. Greer and I help out, but Dustin has the touch. He can tell the second it’s done. The other growers dry it out too much so it has no taste and burns quicker. They sell more that way. We don’t. Ours is high-quality and will give you a buzz that brings you back for more. That’s why everyone wants to bring us down.”
    Sutton reached for the last piece of toast, smearing jelly on top. “I can’t believe you’re actually proud of your skills.”
    “Why not? Pot is legal in several states now. Hell, they’re even coming up with fancy flavors,” Tate, as always, defended his family business.
    “For medicinal purposes,” Sutton countered.
    Greer snorted. “If they smoke ours, they’ll damn sure feel better. I know I do.”
    “With all three of you smoking it, I’m surprised you have anything left to sell.”
    “We don’t smoke it.”
    Sutton stared at Tate doubtfully.
    “We don’t. That wouldn’t be good business. Greer smokes