The Strong, Silent Type
Page 19
“You wore a white gown for me. Is that a wedding dress, little wife? Or a nightie? Maybe you want a little something else before I kill you. Some hanky-panky, Alice?”
Lord, she had to move!
He swung the knife right in front of her face. Quickly, its silver flash arched past the front of her gown, then slashed across her forearm.
She could only stare down at the gaping hole in the sleeve of her robe, at the thin red line of blood rising on the fabric.
“That’s right, little wife. Time to make your white dress bloody.”
Bloody.
The word reverberated. She watched helplessly as his hand came up—poised and high, the already bloody tip of the knife aimed right at her face. Bastard! Had he said these vile words to Jan? To Lang Devlyn? To the poor surgeon he’d killed?
Alice moved before she even felt the supercharge that surged through her like liquid lightning. Her eyes widened. Oxygen rushed her. Her mind snapped into hyper-alertness. Heightened senses picked up scents: his citrus aftershave, tobacco clinging to the uniform.
Her hand shot up. Her fingers squeezed around his wrist with such superhuman strength that he cried out. He tried to wrench away, but he couldn’t move.
He offered a wicked laugh. “Oh, wife of mine,” he said, “I like this. I like it when you fight dirty.”
“Good.” she snapped. “Dylan, you deserve everything you get.”
“Dylan?” he said.
She barely registered the word as she grabbed the knife. Maybe she’d been fool enough to love him. But she’d kill him now if she had to. Looking stunned, he swiped at the knife. Catching it for an instant, he nearly plunged it into her chest. But she turned it around, and before he could react drove it into his belly. Horrified, she gasped and let go as blood spurted onto her gown.
“Alice?” he said.
She could barely believe what she’d done. Had she really stabbed Dylan? One look, and she knew the wound would be fatal. She watched as he backed away, talking as he stepped between the beds, looking strangely confused.
“Alice?” he said again.
Something in her gave. She took a step toward him. But then remembered: this wasn’t Dylan. Not really. It simply couldn’t be the man she’d loved. From now on, she’d pretend he’d been somebody else.
She watched as his hand closed over the handle of the knife that was stuck in his belly. “From now on,” she found herself saying aloud, forcing herself to look into those insane eyes, “I’ll think of you as two different men. The man I loved.” She stared at him, still unable to believe she’d ever loved this man. “And the monster I just killed.”
The insane eyes looked glazed now. A bubble of blood appeared on his lips. But his head snapped up, as if he’d heard someone coming. He screamed—a loud blood-curdling cry—and then wrenched the knife from deep in his belly. With the knife dripping blood, he rushed toward Alice.
Instinctively, she lifted her hands to shield her face just as the door opened. She barely heard. Suddenly everything seemed to move in slow motion. The knife came an inch closer to her face, then another inch, aimed right at her eyes.
And then it stopped.
She realized someone grabbed Dylan from behind. Glancing past him, she expected to see Santiago. And she did, though he was at the doorway, along with the cop who’d previously been posted outside. Closer, the man who’d grabbed her attacker was...
“Dylan?” she gasped.
He glanced from his brother to her. “It’s me, Alice.”
She stared. Her mind simply couldn’t catch up. Somehow Niles Devlyn had duplicated the surgery Dylan had! Her heart flooded with emotion. How could she not have trusted him? Would he ever forgive her? She understood now the extreme danger he’d been trying to protect her from. Her voice was a mere croak. “Dylan?” she said again.
Dylan didn’t respond, only said, “He’s almost gone.”
IT was STRANGE to hold him. The body was so exactly like his own in size, strength and shape. Dylan backed away, slowly bringing his brother to the floor. He hated him. And yet he didn’t...couldn’t.
He’d feel differently if things had turned out some other way. But Alice was alive. And this man was criminally insane. He was all there was left of a family—a father and a brother—that Dylan had never known. Gently, he finished laying his dying brother on the floor. Lowering himself, Dylan moved Niles’s head and rested it on his thigh, then Dylan stared down...
Into what looked like his own face.
Strange, he thought. It was as if he were watching himself die. Niles stared up, his filmy eyes barely focused. He was trying to say something.
Dylan leaned closer. “What?”
“You had everything,” Niles whispered with effort.
Dylan thought of them, as boys, swinging by the lake. Do not he’d said.
Do, too.
Dylan watched as his brother’s eyes shut, then opened again. “You...you...”
When his brother could say nothing more, Dylan forced himself to finish, “I have everything?”
“Yes...” Clearly, it had become too difficult to speak. No lights had lived in Niles Devlyn’s eyes for years. But whatever life had been there was finally burning out. His sudden, soft gasp sounded like a last breath. And then, the second before he died, Niles Devlyn whispered, “You have Alice.”
Lifting a hand, Dylan closed his brother’s eyes. Then he raised his gaze to Alice’s. Tear-filled eyes latched on to his, and he could see the love in them, the knowledge and forgiveness. She understood the danger now. She’d faced it down herself, plunging in the knife that had killed Niles. She understood that Dylan would go to any lengths to protect her—now and forever.
You have Alice.
Dylan could still hear the words. And the first peace he’d felt in a long time descended on him. “I do,” he said simply, looking into her eyes.
“Yes,” she returned softly. “You do.”
When he glanced away—just as Santiago and his men came closer—Dylan caught a glimpse of himself and his brother in the mirror on the open bathroom door. Somehow, seeing himself and his brother reflected together, told him it was really over. He and his brother really were two different people. The nightmares had ended. His childhood memories were restored.
And yes, he thought, his eyes lifting to Alice’s, which were so alive and green, like grass in summer. He had Alice. And she would always be his.
Epilogue
“We should head back to the ranch,” Alice said as her eyes scanned their special spot in Cat’s Canyon.
“Hmm.” Standing with his arm around her thickening waist, Dylan took in the rolling meadow, then looked into Alice’s eyes again. They were so lovely, the exact color of the grass, and her pale skin was tinged a faint pink from the summer sun. She was pregnant, too. A blue silk maternity dress fluttered around her knees in the wind. He smiled. “You don’t really want to go home, do you?” he asked, his eyes straying suggestively to a nearby tree. “I mean, it’s so secluded and quiet here that we could...”
“Dylan.” There was mock censure in her eyes. “We’ve got to go home.”
“Tired of my company?”
Alice feigned a yawn. “You always put me to sleep.”
He grinned. “I have my ways.”
She laughed. “You sure do.”
Leaning, she ran a playful hand through his hair. Some days he wondered if he’d ever get used to his new face, but it was definitely nice to have his hair growing back. Without the dye and perm, it was coming in straight and golden-blond again.
It was one of many things that seemed to have gotten back to normal. His mother’s health was fine. She’d been out of the hospital for months, and had coped with surprising fortitude. For years, she’d doubted her decision to flee from Lang Devlyn and she’d felt guilty about not telling Dylan the truth. But now she was sure she’d done the most protective thing a mother could, though she wished she’d known her other son had been al
ive. When Niles broke into her home and attacked her, he’d told her where he’d been over the years. Contrary to what Dr. Clark claimed, Nancy felt she could have accepted the truth in the past, but that her possessive husband had made it virtually impossible for her to do so.
In Los Angeles, the Devlyn case had been tied up within hours. Sheriff Sawyer had found his old files and Dylan’s fingerprints, and he’d called Detective Santiago just as Dylan escaped, to say Dylan Nolan and Stuart Devlyn were the same man. At the time, the detective had located the trucker with whom Dylan had hitched a ride into Rock Canyon, and who verified Dylan’s story. The officer who’d been posted outside Alice’s hotel room had recovered easily from wounds that had been superficial, too. No one knew why Niles hadn’t killed the man. After all, he had killed so many.
Dylan had shipped his twin’s body to Rock Canyon. And now Niles Devlyn was buried in the local cemetery. It was something Dylan felt he had to do. Because he’d been haunted by elusive memories for so many years, Dylan had no intention of forgetting anything these days—good or bad. Having his brother buried here was a gentle reminder of their personal history. And when he passed the cemetery, he often felt a rush of gratitude: for his mother’s health. For Alice and the coming baby.
Months ago he and Alice had remarried, and their first child was well on the way. Which meant Dylan didn’t dwell much on the millions he’d inherited from his father’s estate. In fact, it hadn’t changed their lives one bit. He had all the riches he’d ever need right here in Rock Canyon.
Still gazing at Alice, Dylan suddenly smiled. Another strange turn was that the case brought Leland into contact with Clarisse at the Blue Sage Motel. The two were Rock Canyon’s latest hot item now, and Dylan and Alice were pretty sure it would turn out to be more.
Dylan guessed he could hardly blame Leland for his possessiveness when it came to Alice. Damn if Dylan didn’t feel twinges of the emotion himself. And after talking things out, he and Leland had started seeing eye-to-eye. Enough so that they were jointly running the Eastman ranch. It was even easier, since Leland and Alice had patched things up—as friends, and Leland had even sought some help in dealing with his anger. Besides which, once Alice was out of danger, Leland’s temper had calmed.
“I’ m not kidding,” Alice said now. “Our mothers are expecting us for dinner, you know.”
Dylan rolled his eyes playfully and tugged Alice down into the grass. “And us,” he teased. “We’re simply expecting.”
Looping her arms around his neck, she rolled so that she lay on top of him, her full belly pressuring his. “We are.”
His smiled broadened. “Hmm. What are you expecting?”
“To spend the rest of my life with you.”
Dylan laughed softly. As his mouth sought hers, he whispered, “That’s what I like about the greatest expectations, Alice.”
“What’s that?” she murmured against his lips.
He sighed before delivering a gentle, loving kiss. “That when I’m with you, they always come true.”
ISBN : 978-1-4592-5130-4
THE STRONG, SILENT TYPE
Copyright © 1999 by Julianne Randolph Moore
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road. Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
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Table of Contents
Table of Contents
I’d know those eyes anywhere
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Books by Jule McBride
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Epilogue
Copyright