The Girl with the Golden Gun

by Ann Major

  “Where’s Daddy?”

  Neither Lizzy, nor her brothers, nor her mother, nor any of them said a word. Instead they seemed frozen.

  “Where’s Daddy?” she finally whispered on a strangled breath.

  Lizzy was very white as she placed a hand on Mia’s arm. “Didn’t Shanghai tell you?”

  “Tell me what?”

  Lizzy’s eyes were widened with dread.

  “Where is he?” Mia’s voice was shrill. “What happened to him?”

  Joanne came forward. “He had a stroke. He’s…”

  “And Sam? Where’s Sam? Is he dead, too? What else has happened?”

  “Sam’s in prison. It’s a long, complicated story. I know your father’s death is a shock, but you wouldn’t have wanted him to live the way he was. His ashes are under the spur tree.”

  Grief numbed Mia as she turned blindly toward the spur tree. Knowing his were among the many spurs that hung there glistening in the sunlight, her eyes began to burn. “I—I was so stupid. I thought I’d come home…and everything would be the same as always. But nothing ever is, is it?”

  “A few things have changed,” Cole said, “but we’ll get into all that later.”

  “I know about you and Lizzy being married.”

  “I—I thought you were…dead,” Cole said. “We’ll get the lawyers to straighten it all out. Your inheritance, I mean.”

  “I’m glad you’re together. You and Lizzy always belonged together.”

  Mia wiped her eyes as she studied Lizzy. Her platinum curls were shorter than she remembered. Her sister’s cheeks were radiant as she stood beside Cole. Even though Lizzy wore an unflattering white poncho and a long ethnic skirt, she’d never been more beautiful. Not that Mia felt the slightest jealousy. Lizzy and Cole looked so right together.

  “I’m glad you’re happy,” Mia reassured her. “So glad.”

  “Well, at least Shanghai found the time to tell you about us,” Cole said. “Good. That’s a start.”

  “On what?”

  “He knows the truth about Vanilla, too,” Cole added.

  “He’s furious at me about that. Not that we’ve had much time to delve…”

  She stopped talking. Remembering what they’d done instead of talking, she blushed. Then her attention was caught by a pretty girl with warm, golden hair. The girl had been talking to Terence Collins and to Leo Storm. When she saw Shanghai, her face lit up, and she dashed toward him, hurtling straight into Shanghai’s arms.

  “Who’s that over there with Shanghai now?” Mia whispered.

  “His trainer, Wolf.” As if sensing dangerous ground, Cole shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

  “I mean the girl with the pretty gold hair and the big smile, who’s in his arms.”

  “Abigail Collins,” Lizzy said.

  “His girlfriend?”

  “She owns the ranch next to his,” Cole added. “It’s south of Austin. Apparently Leo’s recently bought some property that he expects to appreciate that is near theirs, too.”

  “She’s been such a comfort while we’ve been waiting for you two,” Joanne said. “She’s Terence Collins’s daughter.”

  As Mia watched Shanghai and Abigail, something inside her shattered. For a second or two the pain in her chest was so great she could barely breathe.

  Suddenly Leo, who’d been watching the pair, too, pivoted and walked away abruptly.

  Too much had happened too fast. Suddenly Mia felt too fragile to endure any more excitement or surprises. Unable to talk to anyone or to watch the happily reunited couple, Mia made her excuses and then ran up the stairs of the house.

  Once inside she scanned the large paintings, the oriental carpets and the carved staircase. At least she was home. Funny, she’d thought she’d be so happy here.

  When she shut the front door, she sank into the nearest chair and covered her eyes. Why was everything always so hard?

  It was all pretty overwhelming. Here she was, home at last, but her father was gone forever. And Shanghai, who’d made wild violent love to her only this morning, was holding a beautiful woman in his arms.

  Tears ran unheeded down her cheeks, anyway, even as she wiped them away. She looked up, hoping to distract herself and found herself staring at the faded portraits of her pioneer ancestors. They looked fierce and stern. They would have despised her.

  She didn’t care. The house felt so big and alien, and she felt as lost and alone as she had in Mexico. Would she ever fit in here again? What was she going to do with the rest of her life? Cole, who’d become her main confidant before the crash, was now married to her sister, with whom she’d always had a competitive relationship.

  Suddenly her gaze focused on the faded portrait of the original Caesar Kemble, the ranch’s indomitable founder. He’d fought Indians, Mexican raiders. He’d stolen land, bought it, ranched it, endured droughts and fought pitched battles to find water. He must have gone through far worse than she.

  His blood flowed inside her. She lifted her head, her gaze drifting over the other portraits again.

  Think solution. Think survival. What were the first steps she needed to take to put her life back together?

  She had a child to raise. Just the thought gave her a faint sense of purpose and stiffened her resolve to get past this weak moment. Clearly she couldn’t moon over Shanghai.

  The front door opened softly.

  “What’s wrong?” Joanne whispered from the doorway.

  “Daddy…and other stuff.” Mia sat up straighter and rubbed her cheeks with the back of her hands. “Give me a minute, please. I need to be alone.”

  Her mother’s eyes filled with sympathy. “I’ll go down to the kitchen then,” she said, disappearing soundlessly.

  A few minutes later when Mia felt stronger, she stood up and wiped her eyes again. Thinking she was alone, she turned only to receive a jolt when she saw Shanghai’s wide-shouldered body framed in the open doorway. He must have been there a while.

  At the mere sight of him, her heart seemed to stop. “I didn’t hear…What are you doing here?” She turned away from him so he wouldn’t see that her eyes were red.

  “You’ve been crying?” He tensed.

  “The shock of it all I guess. Daddy…”

  “I’m sorry. I wish I could make it easier for you.” He paused. “I don’t want to intrude on your grief, but I couldn’t leave you without saying goodbye.” His deep voice was infinitely gentle.

  She needed his strength so much. It was all she could do not to fling herself in his arms.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about him?”

  “Maybe I should have. I thought only of getting you here safely. I’m sorry if my not telling you caused you unnecessary hurt. If I can help in any way before I go—”

  She swallowed. “You’re going now?”

  “I missed a couple of key rodeos. I’ll have to work pretty hard to play catch-up.”

  “Are you serious about Abigail Collins?”

  “She thinks so.”

  “And you?”

  “Tell you the truth I’ve been sort of torn.”

  “What about us?”

  He clenched his teeth and notched his jaw higher as he glanced past her. He drew a long breath and still didn’t answer.

  For the first time she saw the shadows under his eyes. He looked exhausted both mentally and physically. She saw a few gray hairs at his temple that she hadn’t noticed before.

  “I put you through a lot, didn’t I?” she said, figuring it was best to change the subject. She was done with begging him to love her.

  “You’re safe. That’s the main thing. About us. I don’t know.” He looked away.

  “You look tired.”

  “It’s hit me all of a sudden. I could use a good night’s sleep.” He was watching her closely again. “And so could you. You’ll feel better tomorrow. Being home will get easier.”

  “I sure hope so.”

  He smiled.

  “Don
’t you want to see Vanilla?”

  “Yes. I want to see her so bad it’s killin’ me.”

  “Then let’s go up together.” She pointed toward the stairs. “That’s where I was going before my grief hit me.”

  Flushing darkly, he shook his head. Then his face closed down completely. “Not today,” he muttered, backing toward the door. “I wouldn’t know what to say to her. I’d probably scare her half to death and screw everything up.”

  “But—”

  “I expect meeting you for the first time is enough for her right now. I want to buy her a present first. Maybe clean up. You know—look my best, prepare myself. You’ve only got one chance to make a good first impression.”

  She nodded. He seemed so vulnerable all of a sudden. Was he as scared…of their little girl as she was?

  “Look, I’ve got to go,” he said. “My ride’s waitin’.”

  “Abigail?”

  His face shut down again, but he nodded.

  “I just wanted to make sure you’re going to be all right.”

  When he turned to go, she ran after him, feeling more desperate than ever.

  “Shanghai—”

  When he stopped, her throat tightened.

  Blue eyes stared straight at her and held her motionless. Suddenly it was difficult to breathe. Did she only imagine she saw a wasteland of pain in his eyes? Was it possible he felt terrible, too? Long seconds passed while their gazes clung.

  “Thank you…for jumping…for everything else, too,” she finally managed in a hoarse whisper.

  “I’m just glad you’re safe. You tell Vanilla about me—you hear. Good things. Tell her I’ll be coming to see her—real soon.”

  “Promise?”

  Again he looked directly into her eyes.

  “Yes.”

  She could hardly speak for the lump in her throat. She wanted so much more from him.

  “I gave Leo my cell-phone number in case you ever want to call me,” he said. “That’s the best way to reach me since I travel so much.”

  “All right.”

  When he turned and went to the door, she flung herself after him. The door would have slammed if she hadn’t caught it. Holding on to it, she watched him stomp down the stairs into the brilliant Texas sunshine. She held up her hand, ready to wave had he ever looked back.

  But he didn’t. Lingering in the doorway, she watched him lope across the lawn toward Abigail, who hugged him. When he let her go, he opened the passenger door of her white Lincoln to let her in. Then he ran around the back, got in, too, and hit the gas pedal. When they sped off, the big car slid all over the caliche road as he made a fast getaway.

  Leo, who had been watching them, too, had turned to observe her just as she sagged against the door. Not that she cared if he saw her despair.

  “Timber,” shrieked the little girl as she charged up to the tall castle just as Sy’rai crowned it with a final, yellow block.

  Vanilla was swiping at the blocks with both arms, giggling as they fell when Mia and her mother entered. The little girl was so intent on kicking and scattering the blocks all over the beige carpet that at first she didn’t notice her new fans.

  The nursery was much as Mia remembered—pink walls and the pink crib she’d picked out. Only the darling mobile over the crib was gone and there were way more toys in the toy box and stacked on the shelves. Books with cardboard pages lay all over the carpet, too.

  “Vanilla loves to be read to,” Joanne said. “She’s a real little bookworm. Like Lizzy was. Lizzy reads to her all the time.”

  Always Lizzy.

  Awestruck, Mia sank to her knees so she would be on eye level with the little girl. Vanilla had elfin ears, big blue eyes, wispy brown hair and a pixie smile. She seemed a whirlwind of energy as she kicked another pile of blocks over and then ran up to Sy’rai and smilingly said, “Timber.”

  Sy’rai petted her head. “You little stinker. You kicked over my castle. Don’t you dare kick over any more blocks.”

  Vanilla charged the last remaining tower, shrieking, “Timber” again as it fell. Then she clapped. Whirling around and clapping, she saw Joanne and Mia and grew perfectly still. Then she ran to Sy’rai, shut her eyes and hugged her.

  “She can be shy…of strangers,” Joanne warned Mia.

  I’m not a stranger. I’m her mother. I’ve thought of her every single day.

  “She’s so big,” Mia said, blinking against tears, trying to act calm and composed. “She’s grown so tall. And she’s beautiful. So incredibly beautiful.”

  “She’ll get used to you in no time. Soon, probably by tomorrow, you’ll be the best of friends.”

  From behind Sy’rai’s ample bosom, Vanilla was slanting her eyes coyly at Mia when Kinky came into the nursery carrying a walk-around phone.

  “For you,” he said, handing the phone to Mia.

  “Who is it?”

  “He wouldn’t say.”

  As she clutched it tightly, her heart stopped because she so longed for it to be Shanghai.

  “Hello,” she finally whispered in a husky tone.

  “Angelita?”

  Tavio?

  The sound of his voice hit her like a fist to her stomach. There was a long moment of horrible silence. She went numb as she continued to watch her daughter play.

  “Who is this?” Mia whispered. “Say something.”

  But she knew.

  “You give me no choice, Angelita. You say this Shanghai is dead. I save you. But you lie. Then you run away with him. Because of you, Delia is dead.”

  “Delia. Oh, God, no!”

  “Guillermo, he use her and he let his men use her while he watch. He kill her because I tell him to. Just like I tell Chito to kill you.”

  “You monster!” A sob broke from Mia. “Delia…oh, Delia…” She would never forgive herself for dear, sweet Delia’s fate.

  “Your friend, Shanghai, he shoot Chito. My men, they laugh at me. My business no good now. For these many things you and Shanghai must die. First, your lover Shanghai—to break your heart.”

  Mia froze. He stopped talking and inhaled deeply, probably on one of his crack-laced cigarettes.

  “You’re insane.”

  Holding the phone against her ear, she sank against a wall for support. Vanilla was smiling at her now. She tried to smile back, but her mouth was trembling too much.

  “Please, just leave me alone. Please, Tavio—”

  He began to laugh. “I like it when women beg me.”

  Fear coiled inside her.

  Tavio stopped laughing.

  “Please…please, Tavio. There is goodness in you. I felt it.”

  “You killed it!”

  “Please…”

  “Shut up! If it’s the last thing I do, I come to Texas and kill all your family.”

  Then the line went dead.

  Through a film of horror she stared at her beautiful little girl.

  Seventeen

  San Antonio, Texas

  The River Walk

  Early morning.

  Wearing dark sunglasses, her red hair bundled into a baseball cap to disguise her appearance, Mia stepped out of the elevator into the lobby of her fashionable River Walk hotel.

  Leo was on his feet and beside her instantly. She noted his heavy briefcase and the short, stocky man beside him with thick white hair.

  “Meet Gus. He’ll be your bodyguard,” Leo said, “until this Morales thing is under control and the press settles down.”

  She would have liked to have argued, but she’d learned to pick her battles since she’d been home. Other people made a lot of the decisions at the Golden Spurs. It had always been that way.

  As CEO of the Golden Spurs, Leo always had too much on his plate. There were several ongoing lawsuits involving the corporation. At present certain family members wanted a larger share of the oil and gas royalties.

  “I suppose I could use some help fending off reporters.”

  “Has Morales called you
again?” Leo demanded.

  She shook her head.

  “Good. With any luck, the Mexicans will keep him locked up and throw away the key.”

  “I wish I believed that.”

  Gus extended his hand and after the briefest hesitation, she took it. He was shorter than she was, but burly. His round face was flushed, pugnosed and belligerent. His green eyes were shrewd and suspicious, and they darted everywhere.

  But his smile was nice. “It’s good to meet you, miss.” Then he bowed with surprising gracefulness and stepped to the background.

  He would do.

  After that, she didn’t see much of him. Even so, she knew he was there.

  “How about breakfast before we get down to business?” Leo patted his briefcase.

  She nodded.

  “Your hotel café has the best omelets in town. But we could go wherever you like.”

  When she said the hotel was fine, they walked outside and ordered breakfast under colorful umbrellas that shaded the little tables on a limestone terrace that overlooked the San Antonio River. The service was quick and efficient.

  “You’re right about the omelets.” Finishing hers, she set her fork down.

  Without comment he lifted his coffee cup.

  “If I were home, I’d be at the barn at this hour.”

  “Ah, with the horses.” He smiled. “I’m glad you’re back at that. How’s that going?”

  “Like a lot of things—slow at first.”

  “It’s hard to start over,” he said, as if he knew. “You were doing such a great job before the plane crash.”

  Before Mexico, one of her passions had been her involvement with the gentling of the ranch’s cutting horses.

  “I’ve been going out to the barn every day to help with the foals and the yearlings.”

  He continued to sip, waiting patiently for her to continue. Leo was a bulldozer at times, but then he had to be, to deal with certain members of her family, such as her Uncle B.B. Still, like now, Leo could be the best listener in the world.

  “Oh, it’s not difficult work. Not like what you do.”