“I just thank God he managed to control his mean nature with you,” Jake murmured.
“Sunset was just an animal. He had no recourse, and Rodney knew that I did. My dad would have been enraged if he’d laid a hand on me.” Coldness filled her. “He killed my father, Jake. Looking at all this just drives home to me how very ruthless he actually is. I know he killed him. He probably did it without a twinge of conscience. He has no stops. No compassion for anyone or anything.”
“Sonora Sunset, his password to a life of luxury,” Jake said softly. “Who’s the animal—the horse or him?”
“I’m just so glad I’m free of him,” she whispered.
“Free, yes. It’s time to heal and move on, Molly mine.”
She smiled. “Yes, but to do that, I have to bring the bastard to justice.”
“Is this enough to take to the Securities and Exchange Commission?” Jake asked.
Molly nodded and began copying all the protected files onto disks. “More than enough. The dates of the more recent transactions prove that my father had nothing to do with it. Dead men can’t do insider trading, and thanks to Rodney, I’ve been effectively cut out of the picture for months, so he can’t pin it on me, either.”
When she’d finished making the copies and pushed up from the desk, Jake glanced around the plush office. “Do you have bad memories of this room?”
“A host of them,” she admitted.
A twinkle slipped into his eyes. “Is it a shrine?”
“More like a horror chamber.”
He caught her chin on the edge of his hand. “Do you think he ever screwed around on you with someone in here?”
“Undoubtedly.”
He grinned. “Wanna get even?”
Molly giggled. “I think we’d better save it for later, Mr. Coulter. If we get caught, you could have difficulty running with your Wranglers around your ankles.”
“Good point.”
But he kissed her anyway. For Molly, the magic of that was enough to dispel all the bad memories and fill her mind with glorious new ones. Rodney Wells no longer had any power over her life.
On the way out of the city, Molly asked Jake to make just one stop—at the cemetery. She hadn’t visited her father’s grave since the day she buried him. It was time. High time. She felt ready now to face the pain.
Typical of Portland, it was raining by the time Jake parked near her dad’s grave. Huddling inside her trench coat, which she hadn’t had occasion to wear since that fateful morning when she’d left the city, Molly soon got soaked standing beside the headstone. Her short hair was plastered to her head and dripping wet. Still she just stood there, staring down at the stone. It seemed so sad, so terribly sad that a man’s entire life could be synopsized with a dash between two dates. It was as if he’d never existed. It reminded her of the inscription on Jake’s tree, PEDRO, 1976–1983. Life was so short, death so final.
“I’ll be contacting the authorities on Monday, Daddy,” she explained quietly. “Tomorrow being Sunday, I can’t do anything sooner, but I promise you, I won’t rest until it’s done. I pray that I can present a convincing case against Rodney. Regardless, it’s a risk I have to take to bring him to justice. If I fail, I could end up dragging your good name through the mud, and by extension, the reputation of Sterling and Wells may suffer. I know how much the firm meant to you.”
Molly swallowed and closed her eyes. “If that happens, I’ll be so sorry, Daddy. But this is something I have to do. I hope you can understand and that you’ll forgive me if it all turns sour.”
Jake, who’d been standing nearby without her realizing it, joined Molly just then and wrapped her in his strong arms. “You have to stop torturing yourself like this,” he whispered. “Why do you think your father made a copy of Rodney’s files? To turn the bastard in, of course. Under the same circumstances, I know I would have, and I’m beginning to think your dad was like me in many ways.”
Molly smiled through the raindrops and tears, knowing Jake was right. Though she knew it was an inappropriate moment for the question, she shakily asked, “Who was Pedro, Jake?”
He stiffened. “What?” The tension slowly slipped from him. “You visited my tree.”
“Yes.” Inclining her head at the stone, she said, “Seeing the dates reminded me.”
He rested his cheek against her hair. “Pedro was my dog. He got killed trying to protect me from a charging bull.”
Molly’s heart caught at the sadness in his voice. “He must have been a very special dog.”
“My one and only. When I buried him, I swore I’d never get another one to take his place.”
“And you never did?” Molly smiled through her tears and the raindrops, for it wasn’t really a question. She was coming to realize that this man loved with his whole heart and soul. It comforted her to know that Pedro lived on in his memory. The dates on her father’s headstone weren’t just numbers chiseled in stone; they commemorated his life, and the dash was representative of the most important parts, all the events that had transpired between his opening scene and the final act. She would never forget him, and because she wouldn’t, he would never really be gone. “May I ask a favor?”
“What’s that?”
“Can I carve Daddy’s name on your tree?”
He tightened his arms around her. “It’s our tree now, Molly mine. I think your father’s name belongs there.”
Their tree. Oh, yes. She loved the sound of that. One day, she would carve the name of her father’s first grand-child on that beautiful old oak. Marshal Sterling would live on in her, and in her and Jake’s children.
For the first time in so long, Molly felt as if she were coming close to being the woman her father had raised her to be. “I can feel him here,” she said. “I think he’s looking down on us right now. And you know what?”
She felt his mouth tip in a smile. “No, what?”
“I think he’s celebrating in heaven with the angels right now to see his daughter in the arms of such a fine man.” She turned to frame his face between her hands. “You know what else, Jake? Nothing can stop us. Together, you and I are going to bring Rodney Wells to his knees and make him pay dearly for all that he’s done. To Sunset, to me, to my father. He’s going to pay. I’m going to see that he does.”
Chapter Twenty-three
Morning sunlight streamed in the kitchen window, bathing the log walls and wooden floors in a wash of gold. Sitting catty-corner together at the table, Jake and Molly fed each other breakfast, vegetarian fare aside from the eggs in the garden omelet. Licking the juice of a fresh ripe peach from her lips, Molly guided a forkful of fruit to her husband’s mouth, giggling when he dodged the food and nipped at her knuckles instead.
“I’d much rather have you,” he said huskily. “Come back upstairs with me.”
“It’s morning,” Molly protested, glancing toward the window. “My day off as well, I might add. I don’t want to spend all of it in bed.”
He waggled his dark eyebrows at her. “Come on up, and I’ll have brunch, Jake Coulter style.”
She curled her toes inside the oversized wool socks she’d borrowed from his drawer. “Brunch?” Her gaze moved to his mouth. She imagined his lips trailing over her skin, and a delicious shiver ran up her spine. In a voice gone oddly thick, she said, “I might be convinced. Tell me more.”
He took the piece of peach between his teeth, barely skimming the ripe flesh, then flicking it with his tongue. “Come upstairs,” he whispered. “I do my best convincing with my actions.”
Molly laid down the fork and pushed up from her chair. Jake trailed his gaze over her T-shirt to the hem, where he spent a moment admiring her bare legs. “Did you know you have cute little dimples in your knees?”
She bent to look. When she glanced back at him, she wrinkled her nose impishly. “Some men are wild for dimples.”
“I’m one of them.”
Five minutes later, Jake was intent on showing her just how wild
he was for dimples, and Molly felt like a smorgasbord, created expressly for his enjoyment. He nibbled the dimples on her bottom. Then he moved to kiss the dimples at the small of her back. Then he slowly licked his way up her spine. Her skin was tingling everywhere by the time he turned her over to kiss her front.
“Have I told you this morning how much I love you?” he asked.
“Not for at least twenty minutes or so.”
He grinned. “I love you more than words can say. You know what that means, don’t you? I guess I’ll just have to show you.”
He was much better at showing than telling, Molly decided some thirty minutes later. He also knew how to totally monopolize a lady’s day off. When he was done with her, she only wanted to snuggle up against him and sleep.
“Take a nap with me,” she coaxed.
He frowned. “I have things to do today.”
“Like what?”
“Work, as much as I hate to say the word. It’s the men’s day off. Hank and I have to carry the load on Saturday and Sunday.”
Molly huffed under her breath and nipped his chest. “Well, then, I demand a change in my schedule. I want days off that you can enjoy with me.”
“Speak to the lady of the manor. I don’t handle the domestic crap anymore. I got smart and found myself a wife.”
She playfully punched his ribs. Then she decided to change tactics and kissed them instead. “Take a nap with me, and I’ll make it worth your while when we wake up.”
He grinned and closed his eyes. “I might be convinced. Tell me more.”
Molly rose to her knees. “I’d much rather give you a preview. I’m much more convincing with my actions than I am with words.”
Jake chuckled. “It’s a losing proposition. We just finished. I need some recharge time.”
“Wanna bet?”
“How much are we talking?”
Molly giggled. “Who said anything about money?” She whispered in his ear what she wanted him to do to her if she won. “What do you say?”
He gave her a heavy-lidded look. “You’re on, and I just lost the bet thinking about it.”
Molly glanced down, saw the proof of his words, and burst out laughing. He didn’t allow her to gloat for long. Before she knew it, he was making love to her again. Slow, languorous lovemaking that ended with snuggling and a snooze.
“Jake!”
Molly jerked awake to the sound of Hank shouting her husband’s name. An instant later, she heard booted feet on the stairs. Jake sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes. Molly jerked the sheets up over herself just before the bedroom door flew open.
“Hurry up and get dressed,” Hank cried. “Somehow the horses got loose. They’re scattered from hell to Texas. The rancher down the road just called, and two are clear down at his place.”
“That’s two miles away!” Jake swore under his breath. “Damn it. How did they get out?”
“Beats me, but we’ve got to get them home before one of them gets run over.”
The instant his brother exited the bedroom, Jake threw back the covers and swung out of bed. “Well, that shoots the nap all to hell.”
Molly pushed up on her elbow. “Can I help catch them?”
He leaned back to kiss her, then pushed to his feet and jerked on his pants. “It’ll be more time consuming than anything else.” He winked at her as he bent to pull on his socks and boots. “I’d much rather you wait here. I haven’t gotten to pay up on that bet I lost yet.”
Molly sighed and snuggled back down, feeling deliciously lazy and content. “I’ll be here then, waiting.”
He grabbed his Stetson off the bedpost and put it on his head. “Stop looking at me like that, or I’ll let the damned horses go to the devil.”
She giggled sleepily. “Go on and do your cowboy thing. I need some recharging time myself now.”
A moment later when he left the bedroom, Molly snuggled back down, hugging his pillow close so she could drift back to sleep with the scent of him all around her. Jake. She drifted in lazy contentment, half asleep and caught in that shadowy world between wakefulness and dreams. Oh, how she loved him. She felt as if some magical fairy godmother had waved her magic wand and made all her wishes come true.
She had just fallen back to sleep when a sound awakened her. She blinked sleepily and tried to focus. Lifting her lashes, she was surprised to see that the bedroom door stood ajar. She knew her husband had shut it when he left. She propped herself up on one arm.
“Jake? Did you catch the horses already?”
From behind her, a hand clamped over her hair. Molly screamed as pain exploded over her scalp. The next thing she knew she was being dragged off the bed. She glimpsed gray slacks and shiny loafers.
“No, you fat bitch, he hasn’t caught the horses already.”
Rodney. Molly’s brain went cold with terror. She grabbed frantically at his hand to ease the pull on her hair.
He hauled her out onto the floor and jerked her head back with such force she feared her neck might snap.
“God, you’re disgusting.” He pressed his face close to hers. “The poor bastard is so used to cows, he doesn’t know udders when he sees them.”
Molly stared up into her ex-husband’s hazel eyes. Oddly, his words had no effect on her. He’d hurt her all he could. Nothing he could dish out now was going to bruise her feelings. Jake had given her a beautiful memory for every cruel thing Rodney had said. “What do you want, Rodney?”
Something cold pressed against her temple. She knew instantly that it was a gun. Her stomach clenched.
“One sound, and I’ll pull the trigger,” he whispered. “Get your fat ass dressed. We’re going to have a little party.”
Molly scrambled away from him the moment he released her. Keeping the weapon pointed at her, he followed her to the dresser where Jake had emptied some of his drawers to make room for her clothes. With fear-numbed fingers, she took out underwear and hurriedly put it on. Then she went into the walk-in closet for jeans and a blouse, Rodney following close behind her.
“Where are the computer disks?” he said as she put on the blouse.
Molly gave him what she hoped was a bewildered look. “What computer dis—”
He backhanded her across the mouth. The force of the blow sent her reeling into the wall, her head cracking against a log. Her legs suddenly rubbery, she slid down to the floor and then just sat there, staring stupidly up at him.
Pressing the barrel of the gun between her eyes, Rodney said, “Don’t fuck with me, Molly. I blew your father’s head off. I sure as hell won’t hesitate to blow off yours.”
That came as no surprise to Molly. She blinked, trying to regain her senses. Her jaw throbbed where he’d struck her, and her head was whirling.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t know if someone messed with my computer?” he asked acidly. “You’re as stupid as your father.” He jabbed his chest. “My system is inviolate. No one can touch it that I don’t immediately know when I log on. You left your fingerprints all over it, and I want the copies you made.”
Molly was afraid to defy him. She staggered to her feet and withdrew the computer disks from the pocket of Jake’s sport coat. Rodney snatched them from her hand. After looking at them, he shoved them in his suit pocket.
“Thank you,” he said softly. “Now finish getting dressed.”
While Molly drew on some jeans and leaned against the closet wall to tug on her sneakers, Rodney talked. “It’s too damned bad your big, tough cowboy didn’t listen to me and stay out of this,” he bragged. “Instead he kept a crazy woman on his ranch, and now she’s going to commit a final, crazy act, costing him dearly.”
Molly had no idea what he meant until he forced her at gunpoint out onto the landing. A five-gallon can of diesel sat just outside the bedroom door.
“Start dousing the floors.” Smiling one of those oily smiles she’d come to detest so much, he added, “I’d lend you my gloves, but it’s extremely important that your fingerprin
ts be all over the can later. I’m sure you understand.”
Molly understood all right. Oh, God, oh, God. He meant to burn down Jake’s house. As sick as the thought made her, she couldn’t help but be even more afraid for herself. Rodney had just openly admitted to killing her father. He wouldn’t have done that if he meant to let her live to tell about it.
With Rodney following behind her, Molly doused the floors with fuel. When she had emptied the five-gallon can, Rodney motioned her downstairs. “Take the can down with you. We’ll be leaving it outside as evidence for the police.”
As Molly started down the stairs, she prayed mindlessly, imploring God to intervene somehow. Rodney meant to kill her. She saw it in his eyes. Terror sluiced through her veins like ice water.
Once on the ground floor, Rodney smiled again, inclining his head to indicate yet another gas can. “You know the routine. Don’t drag your feet. If your cowboy comes back, he’ll end up being a very dead hero. You wouldn’t want that, now would you?”
Molly imagined Jake’s rage if he were to walk in on this scene. Her heart gave a painful twist, for she knew very well it wouldn’t be the house that her husband would fight to protect. Helpless anger welled up within Molly. She’d spent all her adult life believing herself to be second rate. Now, for the first time in eleven years, she was happy. Meeting Jake Coulter had transformed her life. She loved him so, and he loved her. Somehow he’d done the impossible and made her feel beautiful. Not just so-so, not just pretty, but absolutely beautiful. Now Rodney meant to end it all, and in the most horrible of ways, making it appear that she had been responsible for the misdeed.
As she poured diesel over the great room floor, she remembered all the evenings she’d walked through the room with Jake. Tears nearly blinded her when she recalled the night Hank had teased her about the cougar threat. She had a family now. Jake’s parents, who’d both called her daughter and taken her into their hearts. Jake’s brothers and sister. She didn’t want to die and miss out on that feeling of belonging.
Sweet Nothings Page 41
