Family Ties

by Joanna Wayne

  “An estranged husband. Besides, I had no idea you were still my husband. When I left, you said you were filing for a divorce at once. And I don’t discuss personal issues at work.”

  “Apparently not even something as personal as your name.”

  “A new identity seemed like a good idea. After all, I was starting over.”

  “And false names make it difficult to track a person.”

  “You managed.”

  “I’m better than most.”

  Ashley sipped her coffee while Dillon set the table for one. Better than most. The words echoed in her mind, bitter and biting. At one time she had thought him better than all. Maybe he was. Thanks to Lester Grant and a past that would never die, Dillon’s chances of winning again had been upped considerably.

  Minutes later, he placed a plate of pancakes dripping with butter and syrup along with a couple of slices of crisp bacon in front of her. Knots tightened and swelled in her stomach leaving no room or desire for food. She spread her flowered napkin while Dillon poured juice for her and coffee for himself.

  “Aren’t you hungry?”

  “I ate hours ago, with my son. My body is still on ranch time.”

  “Texas is on Central Standard Time. It’s an hour earlier there.”

  “Daybreak is daybreak.”

  True, and Dillon had always been awake with the sun, even when they had spent the night in lovemaking. She picked at her food, sliding bite-size portions of pancake around a puddle of syrup. Dillon was playing the role of polite nurturer to perfection, but still tension thick as smoke permeated the air around them.

  They were buying time, and they both knew it. The showdown was only minutes away. And with it, Dillon’s demands. Petey’s future would be decided by quirks of fate. A picture snapped on the beach. A midnight visitor from her past.

  No. Her hand shook, and the fork dropped to the table, the loud clank breaking the quietness. Petey’s future would be decided by her. She would make the decisions, and she would make sure her son was never in danger again, at least not from some ex-con on an impossible mission.

  The only thing that mattered was keeping Petey safe. Until last night, she’d been sure she could do that. After last night…

  “How’s the ankle this morning?” Dillon wrapped his hands around a steaming mug and stretched his legs beneath the table.

  “It’s sore, but I’ll be able to get around on it if I’m careful.”

  His gaze roved her face, his eyes mirroring an intensity his words had left unspoken. Uneasiness stirred again, turning her insides to jelly. It was obvious he was waiting for much more than a thank-you.

  “Who was the man who attacked you last night, Ashley?”

  “I told you. I fell.”

  “The police may have bought your lie. I didn’t. The screen was off the back window.”

  “The wind must have blown it off.”

  “It was cut. Someone broke into your apartment. Probably the same man the police didn’t catch when they chased him out of the bushes. What I want to know is why you’re lying to protect him. If you’re in trouble, I can help you.”

  Ashley shook her head and then brushed the loose strands of hair that fell across her forehead and into her eyes. He couldn’t protect her. No one could. He should know that better than anyone. It had almost cost him his life.

  “I’m not covering for anyone.” She sipped her coffee slowly, letting the warmth renew her courage for what she had to do. “My life is plain, boring by your standards. I go to work and come home and take care of my son. That’s all there is to it. No boogeymen, no stalkers, no desperate lovers. And until yesterday, no husbands butting into my life.”

  The lines in his face grew taut, and his hands knotted into tight fists. On most men, the fury would have drawn their face into ugly contortions. But even riled, Dillon was a Randolph through and through, breathtakingly handsome and so sure of himself, only a fool would have tried to win over him. A fool and a desperate mother.

  “You can live your life any way you please, Ashley. Even choose the type of male companions who break into your house in the middle of the night and play back alley games with knives.” He leaned closer, his voice low but hard. “But you will not risk the life of our son.”

  She shuddered, his words affirming what her mind was screaming at her. The only thing that mattered in her life was Petey. She’d die to keep him safe. Only even that might not be enough. Once, her past had almost taken the life of her husband. She couldn’t just stand by and watch the same thing happen to her son.

  Dillon leaned across the table. “This is no life for Petey, Ashley, and you know it.”

  The ache in her heart swelled to suffocating proportions. “You’re right,” she whispered.

  Dillon’s eyebrows were raised, and his eyes darkened to ebony. “What are you saying?”

  Ashley fought the ache that churned in her stomach and clutched at her heart. She had to do this the right way. So much depended on her ability to carry this off. One sign of weakness and Dillon would grab all the controls. “I’m saying that you can take Petey to the ranch with you.”

  “You mean you will give up your son?”

  Disbelief colored his voice. But for an instant, Ashley thought she saw something more in his eyes. Pity or disappointment. She didn’t have time to decide which. Scorn quickly replaced his temporary softness.

  “I guess this man you’re involved with means more to you than Petey. Fine. Now I won’t have to feel a second’s guilt at taking him away from you.”

  “And we wouldn’t want you wasting a second. Besides, I’m not giving up my son.”

  “But you said—”

  “I said you can take him to the ranch with you. For a few months. That way you can get to know each other, and I can take care of some pressing business.”

  “The kind of business you’re dealing with can get you killed.”

  Damn Dillon. He was looking at her in the way that tore her apart. Pretending to care what happened to her. He didn’t. He’d proven that years ago. He’d all but run her out of his life.

  “You can take Petey to the ranch for a few months. That’s all you need to know. Are you willing to do that, no questions asked?”

  “No. I’m not going to bargain where Petey’s concerned. I’ll take him to the ranch and see that he’s well taken care of. I won’t promise anything more.”

  Ashley stretched in her chair and stared into the living room where Petey was busy stacking blocks and knocking them over. A few months. Dillon had no idea what she was giving up. He had no idea the extremes she would go to when this was over to get Petey back.

  But right now she had no choice. Lester Grant would not be out of her life until the missing money was found or one of them was dead. She’d find the money, somehow. It was the only way she could ever live in peace. The only way she could give Petey the permanence and safety he needed.

  “When can I take him?”

  Tears burned at her eyes. “Tomorrow.” Her voice broke on the words, her lips trembling.

  Dillon stood and walked over to stand in front of her. “Come with us, Ashley.”

  She met his gaze, dark as night and just as mystifying. “Why?” She waited, knowing the answer she craved wouldn’t come.

  “Because Petey will make the adjustment better if you come with us and stay for a week or so. Just until he gets to know me and my family. I won’t bother you. I’ll only talk to you when something directly concerns Petey.”

  His answer cut, reopening old wounds, but it didn’t surprise her. It was Petey he wanted, not her. But he was right. Separation from Petey would kill her whether it was today or a week from now, but a week to get to know the Randolphs would make it a lot easier on Petey. And surely Lester wouldn’t risk getting caught at the ranch, not when he was determined to avoid a return trip to jail.

  “Okay, Dillon. We’ll try it your way.”

  “You’re doing the right thing, Ashley. You won
’t be sorry.”

  He placed his hand on her shoulder, but she shook it away. She would be sorry. Every second she was on Burning Pear she would be sorry. But she would get through it, and she would get her son back.

  This time Senator Dillon Randolph had met his match.

  Chapter Five

  Dillon stared out the window at the passing landscape. Acres of fenced pasture, dotted with cactus, clusters of mesquite trees and some of the best heifers in this part of the country. He’d seen it all a million times before, knew it better than he knew the back of his hand or even his own mind. Which wasn’t saying much, in view of his actions the past two days.

  Still, it was home, the place he ran to when issues at the state capitol heated to the boiling point. But this time he was bringing the problems home with him, not from Austin, but imported all the way from Florida. He had not only invited the problems but insisted they come. All in the body of one Ashley Randolph, though apparently she’d ditched his name the same way she’d ditched him.

  He’d lost his mind, totally and completely. That was the only explanation for what he’d done. He’d gone to Florida to find his son and bring him to Burning Pear to be raised on the ranch like generations of Randolphs before him. It was his birthright, even if it meant nothing to Ashley.

  He’d gone prepared to fight, and Ashley had handed him a victory before the bell had even rung to start the swinging. You can take Petey with you. Those had been her words, plain and simple. Instead of taking his good fortune and running, he’d talked his unwilling wife into coming with them. He had to be a masochist at heart.

  Petey squealed in the back seat, and Ashley bribed him with another animal cracker. The boy didn’t like to be confined to his car seat. Dillon could understand that. And it was a damn good trait for a cowboy. Confinement and open land didn’t go together.

  “See, a horsey,” Ashley said, plying Petey with another cookie.

  “Orsey,” Petey repeated.

  “You’ll be seeing a lot of horses soon, Petey.” Dillon stretched his legs and broke into the conversation. “Real live ones you can ride instead of eat. Another ten minutes, and we’ll be in Randolph country.”

  Petey settled down, nibbling his cookie and rolling a plastic truck along the edge of his car seat. Dillon flicked on the car radio, fingering the dial until the voice of Randy Travis came on, crooning about the good life.

  “Does your family know I’m coming?”

  Ashley’s voice was low, and Dillon strained to hear her over the music. It was one of the few statements she’d directed at him since boarding the plane in Destin this morning. Evidently, she was a tad anxious about the type of welcome she’d receive.

  “Yeah, I told them last night.”

  “I’m sure you also told them it’s only temporary, that we’re not-”

  “Sleeping together? That’s a little personal for sharing, don’t you think?”

  “You know that was not what I was going to say.”

  “Don’t worry, Ashley. Everyone knows it’s over between the two of us. It has been for years now. The only thing we share is Petey. They can’t wait to see him. I’m sure Mom is already baking cookies.”

  “But you’re sure your mom understands about us? She took it hard when we separated before. I don’t want her to get any false hopes.”

  “Well, you know my mother. She has her own agenda, and what I say doesn’t necessarily sway her opinions. But I’ll try to keep her matchmaking efforts to a minimum.”

  Ashley settled back in her seat, apparently satisfied with his guarantee that no one expected them to live as husband and wife. Not that they ever had. They’d lived as lovers and strangers, in that order. Nothing in between.

  The country song on the radio faded to the three o’clock news, and Dillon turned left onto the dirt road that ran the northern length of the Randolph acreage. His wife stared out the window, aloof and sullen, so different than she had been when he first brought her here.

  Then she had soaked in the atmosphere and asked questions so fast he’d grown dizzy listening. That was the day he’d introduced her to Surefire. It had been love at first sight. He’d never forget the way she looked, the wind whipping through her hair while she flew across the land on the gelding’s back.

  If she remembered any of that now, she wasn’t talking. The same way she hadn’t talked about what had really happened in her apartment two nights ago. Dillon had pressed her for information several times, but she’d stuck to her ridiculous story about slipping and falling on the wet steps.

  It was probably none of his business, but still he’d like to know the truth. He’d like to know just what kind of life she’d been living that made her lie to protect the identity of a man who’d obviously roughed her up.

  His hands were knotted into fists, and he lowered the window an inch or two, letting the breeze push through his hair and cool his face. Just thinking about that man bullying Ashley set fire to his gut. He gulped in a deep helping of Texas air.

  Ashley wasn’t his responsibility, not anymore. He couldn’t make her conform to his wishes, and he sure as hell couldn’t keep her safe from herself. But at least one good thing had come from her midnight encounter. It had changed her mind about letting Petey come to the ranch with him.

  “Why didn’t you ever get a divorce, Dillon?”

  The question came from nowhere, catching him off guard. He could answer truthfully, of course, if he had any idea what the truth was. All he knew was he’d tried to more than once. He’d even gotten as far as filing that second year, but when it was time for the final signing, he hadn’t been able to go through with it.

  “I meant to. I was just always too busy,” he lied. “How about you?”

  “People on the run don’t usually file legal documents.”

  “No, I guess not.” It hurt to think she had been running from him, afraid he would want some ties with his own son.

  “Orsey! Orsey!” Petey’s excited call brought Dillon to the present.

  “Yeah, a big horse, an Appaloosa.” Dillon slowed the car to a stop. A lanky ranch hand climbed from his mount and walked over to stand beside the red Lexus.

  “Trouble again, boss. Another break in the fence.” The look on Trick’s face said a lot more than his words.

  Dillon opened his door and climbed out. “Yeah, let’s take a look at it.” He led Trick away before he had a chance to say anything more in front of Ashley. Ashley had her secrets. He had a few himself, only his were merely annoying.

  “It don’t look good to me, Senator. Not good at all.”

  Dillon bent and fingered the barbed wire. “No, it’s been cut. I suppose there was no sign of anybody fooling around out here?”

  “No. Just like always. A cut and run by a troublemaking coward. That’s what I make of it.”

  Dillon slammed the toe of his boot into the fence post and pulled his hat low over his eyes. “Fix the fence and check out the rest of this line, then head back to headquarters. We’ll talk then. Just the two of us, Trick. No use getting the rest of the ranch hands fired up about this.”

  “You can’t keep a secret around here, boss. They know about the fences, and word’s out about the threats. The only way to ease their minds would be to tell them what’s going on.”

  “When I find out, I’ll tell them. In the meantime, keep it quiet. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir. I can keep my mouth shut when there’s a reason.”

  “Good.”

  Trick scratched his head and shoved his hat back a little, letting a splotch of his bright red hair peek out. “Looks like you’re bringing company home with you.” He looked in Ashley’s direction and tipped his hat. She smiled, the devastating way only Ashley could. Dillon could all but see Trick’s heart skip a beat.

  “My wife, Ashley, and my son, Petey.”

  The surprise was duly registered on Trick’s face. “I’d heard there was a wife somewhere,” he said, nudging his hat with a thumb. “B
ut I didn’t know you had a son. Right nice-lookin’ woman, though. Seems mighty friendly, too.”

  Friendly? Maybe, compared to stampeding cattle. Dillon kept his thoughts to himself. “My wife and I are separated. She’s only here to bring my son for a visit, but you’ll get a chance to meet them officially later. They’ve had a long day.”

  Turning his back on the inquisitive ranch hand, Dillon climbed into the car and revved the engine. The urge to jam the accelerator into the floor was strong, but he resisted. A cow or calf might wander into the road at any time along this stretch, especially with the fence cut.

  “You seem concerned about the fence. Have you been having trouble?”

  Dillon drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and stared at Ashley, gauging her expression. It had to be just an idle question. She couldn’t have possibly overheard the conversation between him and Trick. “Just a fence that needs fixing,” he answered, turning his gaze to the road. “A day in the life of the cowboy.”

  “That particular cowboy seemed upset.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “The look on his face. And I thought I heard you say the fence had been cut.”

  “No, just a break. It could have been from anything. Trick’s a good man, but he’s a worrier. You remember him, always suspicious. He’s seen too many old westerns.”

  “No, I don’t remember him. He must have been hired after I left.”

  “I don’t think so. But he could have been. You weren’t around long.”

  “No, I guess I wasn’t.”

  The conversation stopped cold, and they rode the rest of the way to the house in silence.

  ASHLEY RESTED her head on the back of the seat and feigned sleep. The anxiety that had gnawed at her stomach since Dillon had made his surprise appearance in Florida was working overtime now. The sights, sounds, even the smells of Burning Pear had fully awakened the bittersweet memories. She had to block them out before her fragile hold on her composure slipped totally away.

  “This is home, Petey,” Dillon announced, stopping the car. “Now you can get out of that car seat and stretch those legs all you want.”