by Joanna Wayne
Collette couldn’t make sense of the man’s mutterings. She closed her eyes and tried to block his voice from her mind, so that his face and voice would not be the last things she saw or heard.
Forcing the evil into the dark corners of her fading consciousness, she let Dylan’s face play in her mind. She pictured him stepping onto the porch of the ranch house that very first day and the way he’d looked when he’d smiled and tipped his Stetson to the waiting reporters. Cocky, virile, rugged, handsome. A cowboy to build a dream on.
She should have told him that she loved him last night. Now it was too late.
Chapter Eighteen
Someone, probably the Hardware Stalker, had tampered with the elevators, leaving all of them stuck on the top floor. Dylan raced up the six flights of stairs, his endurance training paying off big-time.
He knew that Tommy Jo Benoit was in the hospital with his sights set on Collette, but Dylan’s cell phone hadn’t rung, which meant Collette was still with Eleanor. She was safe, he assured himself.
Adrenaline was still pumping through him like water rushing from a dam break when he reached the sixth floor. He scanned the hallway before he approached the guard.
“Is Collette McGuire still with the patient?”
“No. She left a few minutes ago.”
Dylan checked his cell phone. No missed calls. No messages. “Where did she go?”
“I didn’t ask. She didn’t say, but she walked off in that direction.” The guard pointed toward the other end of the hall.
The assurances Dylan had fed himself on the staircase fell flat. He had to find Collette. She had to be okay. But why go off without calling him?”
A nurse’s strident voice caught his attention. “I told you the bathroom in Room 614 needs cleaning. The patient vomited all over the floor.”
Dylan turned to see a burly orderly defend himself.
“I lost my keys or someone took them,” the man said. “I can’t get to my supplies.”
“Find someway to get to your mop bucket now,” the nurse ordered.
Again Dylan felt his impending-danger signal vibrate through his body. He rushed to the orderly taking the verbal abuse. “Where do you keep your supplies?”
“In the closet down the hall. I had the keys hanging from my belt a few minutes ago, and now they’re gone.”
“Take me to the closet. And hurry.”
The panic in his voice must have sounded convincing. The orderly started walking at a brisk pace.
“On the double,” Dylan ordered in military fashion. “This could be life or death.”
The orderly obeyed and started jogging down the hall.
“That’s the closet,” he said, “but I don’t have the keys.”
Dylan tried the door. It didn’t budge, but he heard a scraping and bumping noise inside. “Open up,” he ordered.
When no one did, he stood back and took a deep breath. “We have to break it down.”
“No way, man. I’ll end up having to pay for the repairs.”
“Then get the hell out of the way.”
Dylan threw his shoulder into the door, and the wood frame splintered. The orderly jumped into the act and on the second hit, the door came crashing down.
Dylan’s worst nightmare faced him. Collette was scrunched into a corner, her eyes glazed over. Tommy Jo Benoit stood over her, the gun in his hand pointed at Collette’s head.
The orderly backed away.
“Stay where you are,” Benoit ordered.
Dylan sized up the situation. Collette’s neck was red and her lips had a blue cast. Benoit had been choking her, killing her slowly, for his own pleasure. He was a trained assassin for the mob. Had he wanted, he could have broken her neck with one quick movement. Instead, he’d dragged it out, no doubt getting off on the sick pleasure of watching her die.
“Let Collette go,” Dylan said. “This is Edna Granger’s battle, not yours. If you kill Collette, you won’t walk out of here alive. A paycheck isn’t worth dying for.”
“Sometimes it is. Say goodbye, Collette.” Benoit poised to shoot.
Collette slumped into the corner. “I love you, Dylan. Please, don’t be a hero. Not this time. Save yourself.”
The words were so soft and hoarse that Dylan could barely make them out. He’d never set out to be a hero, but he could not let Collette die.
“You stinking, woman-killing coward,” he spat. “They should have slit your throat instead of chopping off your tool.”
Benoit shuddered in rage, and moved the gun so that it was pointed at Dylan’s head. Dylan liked those odds a whole lot better.
That split second was all the opening he needed. He kicked the gun from Benoit’s weakened hand, sending it clattering across the closet.
Brave now that Benoit was unarmed, the burly orderly tackled him to the floor while Dylan recovered the gun. He handed the weapon to the orderly. “If he makes one wrong move, shoot him.”
Dylan fell to the floor beside Collette and gathered her in his arms. He held her close while he called for help, his heart still beating erratically.
Had he been a few seconds later… Had he found Collette dead…
He couldn’t bear the thoughts, so he held her close, thinking that he’d never let her go.
“And Dad said you were nothing but trouble,” she murmured.
“Like I said before, your father is a very smart man.”
Epilogue
Three months later
Eleanor lifted her glass of chardonnay as if she were toasting. “I love this garden.”
“It was Helene’s private oasis originally,” Collette said. “I wanted to revive it as a tribute to her love for her family.”
Melinda sat down on the ornate bench that had been spruced up with new paint. “Did you do all the work yourself?”
“No. Troy dug up the weeds and tilled the new beds. Dylan’s been busy with repairs to the ranch, but he helped me mend the stone wall. I planted, watered and fertilized.”
Eleanor did a pirouette, a bit awkwardly since she was wearing incredibly high heels with her belted pencil skirt. “I think this would be a beautiful spot for a wedding.”
“You can borrow it anytime you want to tie the knot.”
“I’m thinking of you and Dylan. You love him, so what’s the holdup?”
“He’s busy helping Troy get the ranch up and running.”
Melinda looked perplexed. “So you’re just going to keep living at the old Callister place indefinitely?”
“It’s a nice house, and I have my photography business,” Collette protested. “It’s not as if I need a wedding ring to have a life.”
She avoided the painful truth that although Dylan seemed as much in love with her as she was with him, he’d never once mentioned marriage.
Collette stooped to pull a new weed. “Aren’t you two the same friends who were telling me how bad Dylan was for me just a few months ago?”
“We were wrong,” Eleanor said. “We admit it. Which reminds me, what’s the latest on your crazed stalker/assassin?”
“He’s in jail awaiting trial. So is Edna Granger. When she started spilling her guts in hopes of a lesser charge, Benoit decided to follow suit. She hired him to kill me to get back at Dad for killing her daughter in the drug-induced domestic mayhem.”
“I read about that,” Melinda said, “but I still don’t get the stalker routine.”
“That was originally Edna’s idea, but Benoit elaborated on the scheme. They decided that if I told everyone I was being stalked before I was killed, that would mislead the investigators and keep them from suspecting that Edna or Benoit had a hand in my death.”
“It might have worked if Dylan hadn’t shown up in time that very first night.” Eleanor said.
“Exactly.” Collette swatted at a mosquito that had landed on her arm. “Benoit had knocked you unconscious and was waiting for me to arrive so that I could watch him kill you before he killed me. He has a taste for the m
acabre.” She shuddered, despite the summer heat. “Good thing Dylan showed up and knocked a giant hole in his plans.”
“So all’s well that ends well?” Eleanor asked.
“At least it ended as well as could be hoped for Benoit’s ill grandson,” Collette said. “After his story received so much publicity, the insurance company decided to pay for the drug after all. He’s in remission and back home with his parents in Marble Falls.”
Both Eleanor and Melinda cheered that news.
“And how are things between you and your father?” Eleanor asked. “Making progress.”
“Great,” Eleanor said. “He lacks tact when questioning victims and he doesn’t mince words, but I like the old buzzard.”
“You would,” Melinda said.
The talk turned from crime to the increasing sales of Beyond the Grave and their appreciation for Troy’s letting them feature the house in the next edition. They’d taken dozens of pictures today.
An hour and a glass of wine later, they were ready to leave.
“I hate to lie to our readers,” Melinda said as Collette walked them to Eleanor’s car. “But this place is too peaceful to be haunted.”
“Agreed,” Eleanor added. “Too bad. If I were a ghost, I’d want to haunt a house just like this one.”
If they only knew.
But they wouldn’t hear it from Collette. It was a secret shared only by her and Helene.
DYLAN RODE UP on his recently purchased majestic black steed just as Collette was climbing into her Jeep. He looked every inch a cowboy, a deliciously intriguing cowboy.
“Leaving so soon?” he asked.
“I’ve been here all afternoon. Where were you?”
“I wanted to give you time with your friends. I didn’t expect you to leave before I got back.”
“A man should never keep a woman waiting indefinitely.”
I’ll try to remember that. Now that I’m here, why don’t we take the horses for a ride and catch the sunset by the creek?”
The offer was too tempting to resist. “I guess I can stay awhile longer.”
“I’ll saddle Lady for you.”
“Good. I’ll get my boots from the trunk and meet you at the horse barn.”
In minutes, they were galloping across the east pasture with endless stretches of hilly grassland stretching in front of them. She could have ridden like that forever, but when they reached the creek, Dylan slowed to a trot and then stopped beneath the sketchy shade of a lonesome pine tree.
A row of willow trees lined the creek bed. A blanket was spread out beneath them topped with a picnic basket and a cooler of champagne. She flushed with pleasure, then did her best to hide it.
Dylan helped her dismount and then took her hand and led her to the edge of the creek where the picnic was waiting.
For the first time since they’d met, he seemed awkward and a bit unsure of himself. Whatever he’d brought her here for, he obviously wasn’t sure she’d like it.
Her heart plummeted. He was going to tell her that he’d done what he came to Mustang Run to do. He’d bonded with his father. He’d gotten the ranch up and running. It was time for him to move on.
He’d never promised her forever, but how would she ever live without him? She loved his voice, his humor, the way he swaggered, the way he made love with her. She loved him.
She wanted to lash out and beat her fists against his chest and beg him never to leave. That had never been her style. Instead she propped her hands on her hips. “Sure of yourself, aren’t you, cowboy? Planning a picnic without asking first. I could have said no to your invitation for a ride.”
“I’m glad you didn’t. I wanted you to see this spot just before the sun dips below that strand of trees off to the west. It casts a magic glow over the area.”
Dylan was all the magic she needed.
“I’m thinking of building a house here,” he said. “What do you think?”
Her heart jumped to her throat. “Does that mean you’re staying in Mustang Run?”
He took off his Stetson and tossed it onto the blanket. “All depends.”
“On what?”
“The answer to my next question.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a gold band circling a solitary diamond. “I love you, Collette. I think of you all day when I’m working the ranch. Nights I don’t see you, I go crazy with wanting you. For the first time in eighteen years, I feel like I’m where I belong. I’m thinking that means we should get married.”
Her heart pounded. All she’d ever wanted from life was standing in front of her in the person of a heroic, protective, gorgeous cowboy. “Oh, Dylan. I love you, too. I have from the first moment we met.”
“But do you love me enough to marry me? Think before you answer. Becoming a Ledger means being branded with that name and all the suspicions that go with it for the rest of your life. So will our children—unless you don’t want children.”
“Of course I want children, lots of them. Well, three, at least. And I’ll make sure they are proud to be a Ledger, proud to be your sons or daughters.”
“Is that a yes?”
“That, Dylan Ledger, is definitely a yes.”
Dylan pulled her into his arms for a kiss that promised a lifetime of love.
Tears of happiness burned in Collette’s eyes as she thought of Helene and knew that somehow she was watching and that all heaven was cheering for the son of Troy Ledger who’d found his way home.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-6619-7
COWBOY SWAGGER
Copyright © 2010 by Jo Ann Vest
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*Four Brothers of Colts Run Cross
*Four Brothers of Colts Run Cross
*Four Brothers of Colts Run Cross
*Four Brothers of Colts Run Cross
*Four Brothers of Colts Run Cross
†Special Ops Texas
†Special Ops Texas
†Special Ops Texas
*†Sons of Troy Ledger
