by Cora Seton
Two gunshots rang out.
Win screamed, lurched away and stumbled over the uneven ground.
The man fell to the ground and writhed there. Angus surged to his feet, caught sight of Douglas—
Flat on his back.
A bloom of blood spreading across his chest.
Win stumbled several times before regaining her balance. She was still alive. Unhurt.
When the shots rang out, she’d been sure she was the target, but she was still standing.
Still breathing.
She turned in time to see Angus rush to the two bodies on the ground, followed closely by Nick.
Angus dipped down by the gunman, scooped his weapon from the ground and kept going to Douglas’s side.
Win gasped when she saw the blood on Douglas’s shirt, hurried toward him and stopped short. “Is he…?”
Douglas opened his eyes. “I’m not dead, if that’s what you’re asking, lass, but I’m going to be if you don’t get me to a hospital. Fuck, this hurts.”
“Welcome to my world,” Angus told him as the rest of the men of Base Camp reached them.
Win pulled out her phone and dialed 911. She gave the particulars the best she could, her head spinning as the truth crashed down around her.
She had been being tracked.
Her parents were right.
“Win? You okay?” Angus surged to his feet as she swayed, but she shook her head.
“Help Douglas.”
Angus didn’t look convinced, but he pulled his T-shirt over his head, tore it into strips and used them to staunch Douglas’s bleeding, assisted by Boone and Clay. “Looks like a graze,” Boone said some moments later.
“Graze, my ass,” Douglas bit out, groaning in pain. “It went right through me.”
Angus smiled. “Whatever you say, cousin.”
Win stepped closer to the gunman, who was still writhing in pain. Angus looked over and grimaced. “He’s losing blood.”
“I got it.” Walker dropped down beside the man and got to work.
“Should have learned from last time,” Win said.
“Last time?” Angus repeated.
“It’s the same guy who kidnapped me before—I recognize the tattoo on his hand. My parents kicked his ass back then—”
“The fuck you say!” the man ground out as Walker tended his wound. “Your parents paid me off.”
“They paid the ransom?” Angus asked. She knew why he was surprised; she’d already told him she was rescued.
“You’re a liar,” Win told the man.
He grunted in pain as he tried to sit up, but Walker pushed him back down. “Your parents are the liars. They paid me to kidnap you. Paid me to do it again. Should have offered you half to hide out in some spa in Thailand. Would’ve been easier.”
“Paid you to—” What an outrageous lie. “Why would my parents pay you to kidnap me?”
“Flagging polling numbers. Same as last time. Your dad was losing. You got him the pity vote. Made his career. They didn’t tell you, did they?” He laughed, then coughed and groaned.
Win turned to Angus, who was staring back at her.
Her mother had lied about having cancer—
No—
Win put out a hand to grab on to something to steady herself, but there was nothing there.
Had her parents lied about the kidnapping, too?
No—her mother wouldn’t have—not when she’d spent weeks in a dark room—alone—
No—
Vienna had saved her. Had doted on her for months. Had kept her so close.
Had sat with her through her nightmares—
Had… caused them?
Win let out a breath and with it the last of the belief that her parents had ever loved her at all—
“Win?” Angus lunged to catch her.
And the world went dark.
This time he caught Win. Lowered her gently to the ground. Heard the approaching sirens with relief and cradled her to his heart while around him chaos reigned.
He’d almost failed to protect her—again. Had gotten the shot off that took out her would-be captor but almost been too late.
He didn’t deserve Win. Never had—
“Where’s her injury?” EMTs swarmed around him. Soon they lifted Win onto a stretcher and guided Angus into one of the ambulances with her. He answered their questions automatically, his mind running over the scene in the woods again and again and again as Douglas and the would-be kidnapper were taken away in ambulances, too.
What if the kidnapper had succeeded? What if he’d been real, rather than sent by Win’s parents? What if Angus had lost Win—lost the baby?
“Hey, you all right?” one of the EMTs asked as the edges of Angus’s vision went black.
He shook his head, fought to breathe regularly. Win—his child—gone.
“Hey, buddy, talk to me,” the EMT said. “What’s your name?”
“Angus. Angus McBride.”
“Your wife is fine. She’s breathing, heartbeat is regular. She’s got no injuries.”
“She passed out,” Angus said.
“Shock. Looks like you’re feeling a little of that, too.”
Angus wanted to deny it, but he felt like the ambulance was rolling on the crest of a wave, and the edges of his vision were blurring again.
Win. The baby—
“You okay?”
Angus wasn’t sure. This had never happened on the battlefield. He’d always been proud of the way he held up under fire. He wasn’t sure why he was struggling now—except that it had been Win who’d been in danger—
He was grateful when they reached the hospital and he could stagger out of the ambulance, breathing fresh air into his lungs. He was calming down now that the crisis was over—now that Win was safe, being cared for by professionals. He followed them in as they wheeled her gurney to a room. Once again he was impressed with how quickly a doctor came to see her.
By the time Win woke up, she’d done a thorough check and confirmed that Win was fine, although they drew blood to run some tests. Angus reached for her hand and squeezed it. “How do you feel?”
Win blinked. Took in her surroundings. “Not again,” she groaned.
Angus chuckled in relief. If she’d regained her sense of humor, she must be okay.
“I’m fine. Why do I keep fainting?”
“The doctor said you might be anemic.”
“What… happened?”
But in the gap between the two words, he could see she remembered for herself.
“Someone attacked me—because my parents paid him to.”
“Brian Wells,” Angus said. Boone had texted him the information he’d learned from Cab Johnson, the local sheriff. “Apparently he works at a subsidiary of Manners Corp at one of its foreign bases of operation. Security.” Angus wondered what else that had entailed if the man had been hired to kidnap Win—twice.
Win hugged her arms against her chest as if cold. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed.
“He worked for my mom,” she said. “She’s behind all this.”
“I guess so. I’m sorry.”
She gave a kind of desperate laugh. “I might as well not have parents at all.”
“Win.”
“I’ve been alone my whole life.”
Damn, he knew that pain. When his mother had left, it had clawed his heart right out of him.
“You’ve got me. Always will. You’ve got Avery, and Riley and Savannah… You’ve got all of us.”
She shook her head. “Do I? Because I feel like I’m alone.”
Angus ached for her. He knew what she was talking about; he’d felt something similar the weeks and months after his mom left. The gulf between human beings could stretch so wide. Sometimes, when you were hurting too badly, it seemed impossible to bridge. But it wasn’t. He’d learned that in time.
Angus folded her into his embrace and rocked gently with her, back and forth. That was a realization you couldn’t
explain to anyone else. It was something each person had to learn for themselves.
He wouldn’t leave her alone, though. He’d stay right here.
It took some time, but finally Win relaxed against him. When he felt her tears hot and wet against his neck, he knew the healing had begun. It was a long road back when you lost a parent, no matter how it happened, but she had started the journey.
He would make sure to be there for her every step of the way.
“I guess I need to apologize,” Douglas said several days later, when Win was back on her feet again and the worst of her shock had worn off. “I was full of myself when I got here. Worried about how to get a chance to stay; I didn’t even think about you. Can’t believe I was trying to convince you to go home to your folks.”
“You couldn’t have known what my parents were like,” Win said. She’d decided not to worry about the past anymore. As much as learning the truth about her kidnapping had hurt, she’d decided it was the kind of cut that lopped off everything that was rotten and left only what was pure.
Her parents could never fool her again, and now she knew where her real family was: right here in Base Camp.
She could love Angus unconditionally, no guilt about leaving California behind. She could give herself totally to the community without worrying about Manners Corp or the Manners Foundation.
None of that had anything to do with her.
“What’s going to happen to them—your parents, I mean?” Douglas asked. He was on the mend, too. The bullet had grazed him but hadn’t done any lasting damage.
They were standing near Angus’s tiny house, which was almost complete. Another sunny day had dawned, and all the men and women who’d grown up around here kept talking about the unusual spring they were having.
“I don’t know,” Win said. “And honestly, I don’t care. There’ll be a scandal. Maybe there’ll be charges against my parents—and Brian Wells, of course. Maybe Dad will drop out of his reelection race. Maybe he won’t. Maybe they’ll spend a bunch of money and it will all go away. Nobody’s shocked by anything politicians do anymore, right?” She knew that sounded cynical, but it was true. “I’m just… tired. Of all of it. The guilt, the shame, the feeling like I’m doing something wrong when I choose to be with the man I love. That’s not what family should be about, you know?”
He nodded. “It shouldn’t be about trying to get ahead, either. Wish I’d never come here.” He stopped. “No, that’s not right. I’m glad I came here and got to know all of you. I’m glad I had my shot to be in America and get on TV.”
“What are you going to do now?”
“I don’t know. I feel like I could accomplish a lot if someone would give me a break. I don’t know how to find that break, though.”
Win thought about that. “I do.”
“You do?” Douglas cocked his head.
“Come on; let’s go talk to Renata.”
They found the director in the manor, sitting at the kitchen table with Avery and Eve.
“So it’s going to be years before we do a feature film?” Avery was asking when they walked in.
“All I’m saying—” Eve broke off when she spotted them. “Hi, Win. Hi, Douglas. Everything okay?”
Win hoped everyone would stop asking her that question soon. She was shaky, hurt to the core, still thoroughly shocked by who her parents had turned out to be, but she refused to let any of it consume a minute more of her life. “We’re fine. Everything okay here?”
“We’re just trying to figure out a path to profitability for our film production company.” Eve sighed. “Isn’t going to be easy.”
“We have to do the retrospective first,” Renata said in a tone that told Win she’d said this several times before. “Fulsom didn’t have to give that project to us; he’s got a production crew right here.”
“I know,” Avery said, but she didn’t seem too happy.
“The retrospective is what I wanted to talk to you about. What do you think about Douglas being the narrator for the project?” Win asked, clapping Douglas on the back. “People will be interested to know more about him; you could thread his story into Base Camp’s story, mix some new information with the old stories, something like that.”
“You ever narrated anything before?” Renata asked.
“No, but I’m a fast learner,” Douglas said.
“And he’s got a nice voice, just like Angus,” Win pointed out.
“Let me think about that,” Renata said. “You want to stay in the United States, right?”
“Absolutely.”
“I think once he’s done the narration, it’ll be time to put him and Fulsom together,” Win said. “Seems like Fulsom might make use of him.”
“I think you’re right. No promises,” Renata cautioned. Douglas had lit up at the prospect of meeting the billionaire. “But Fulsom’s got his fingers in a lot of pies.”
“Thank you.” Douglas squeezed Win. “You’re the best.”
“Remember that when Angus and I ask you to babysit,” Win said.
“Dinner at the Russells’ tonight,” Eve put in. “We’re heading over at six.”
“Yum.” Dinners at the Russells’ were always delicious affairs. “Dancing, too?”
“You know it.”
Win’s heart lifted, and for the first time since she’d been nearly kidnapped, she had the feeling that things might turn out all right.
“I can’t wait.”
Chapter Fourteen
‡
“My thirty days are up tonight,” Angus told Boone as everyone gathered to head to the Russells’ house. Maud and James Russell were an older couple who lived close by. They were wealthy enough to indulge all their dreams and after years of attending Regency reenactments had decided to live as if they were in that era full time. They were delighted with the men and women of Base Camp, and James loved to squire everyone around in his barouche, even though the manor now possessed two carriages. Never happier than when entertaining, the couple issued frequent invitations to dinners, dances and other get-togethers, which Angus mostly enjoyed.
He wasn’t sure how he’d get through this evening, though, knowing at the end of it he’d be free to pursue Win again. The last month had been one of the longest of his life, the last couple of days excruciatingly slow, and he looked forward to following his heart rather than orders.
“I know.”
“You don’t look nearly as happy as I am about it.” Angus wasn’t willing to let Boone throw cold water on his good mood, but the other man’s grim expression worried him.
“I’m worried about what the backup brides might do next. They’re not going to be happy when you go right back to Win and leave Leslie out in the cold.”
“I have every right to marry whoever I want.”
“I know. The question is, do they care about your rights?” Boone sighed as Clay pulled up in one of the manor’s barouches. The Russells loved it when they used nineteenth-century transportation to cover the short distance to their house, and Angus knew James was on his way in his own carriage to pick up some of the group. The horses came to a halt at Clay’s command, and several men and women climbed up and took their seats. “They could still hamstring us by going after our advertisers,” Boone added.
“I did what I could do. I stuck with Leslie—”
“I know you did. I’m just worried it’s not enough. And then there’s Walker and Avery.” They both looked over to where those two stood close to each other, not talking.
“They’ll figure it out. They have to,” Angus said.
“I sure hope so.”
“You can’t blame me for going back to Win.” Angus knew he should drop the conversation, but it bugged him to think Boone might think he’d fallen down on the job.
“I wish Leslie wasn’t so set on marrying you.”
“I certainly didn’t do anything to encourage that.”
“I keep feeling like there’s something else we should have do
ne. Maybe I should have found her a backup husband. Do you think she can be persuaded to fall for Douglas?”
“Doesn’t seem likely he’ll stay at Base Camp long-term.”
“Boone, Angus, come on,” Jericho called from the last of the barouches. “You don’t want to miss dinner, do you?”
“Definitely not,” Boone called back. “Think you can handle six more hours?” he asked Angus.
“I’ve made it this far,” Angus said, but he had a feeling it would be a long night.
Win would have enjoyed the dinner greatly if Leslie hadn’t been glowering at her throughout it. It didn’t help that Angus had dropped down next to Win without even checking to see where Leslie was going to sit. He’d given up all pretense of squiring Leslie around, even though technically his time with her wasn’t up until midnight.
“You should have sat with her,” Win murmured halfway through the meal. “She’s furious.”
“I don’t know how to pretend anymore that I’m not with you.” He glanced Leslie’s way, however, and frowned at her expression. “Maybe you’re right.”
“I know I’m right. You’d better ask her for the first dance.”
“Fine,” he growled. “But I want to be with you and only you.”
“Soon.”
By the time the meal ended, Win’s stomach was in knots. She didn’t think Leslie had a malicious bone in her body, but sometimes the quiet ones fooled you, and there were plenty of things she could do to make their lives difficult.
“Gentlemen, if you’ll help me move the furniture,” Maud Russell trilled when they entered her generously sized living room. “We can clear a space to dance. Savannah? Will you play for us?”
“Certainly.” Savannah left baby Jacob in her husband’s arms and crossed to the Russells’ grand piano, letting her hands run over the keys, then picking out a lively tune. “Grab your partners, everyone.”
“Go ask Leslie,” Win reminded Angus when he reached for her hand. Savannah was playing a song they all recognized. One she always played when they danced one of the formal English Regency dances they’d learned early on. Win loved joining in, but she’d sit this one out if it helped restore harmony.
