Family Ties

by Joanna Wayne

  Shifting slightly, she settled his head in the crook of her arm and cuddled him closer to her breast. He fought one last time to keep his eyes open, letting them roll in his head before giving in to the weight of his eyelids.

  “Let me carry him to bed for you,” Dillon whispered, after a few minutes of quiet convinced him Petey was really asleep.

  “Okay, but don’t take his bear away. He wakes up instantly if you try.”

  Dillon reached down and took Petey from her, his strong hands holding him as if he was made of fragile glass instead of flesh and bone.

  An ache settled in Ashley’s heart, so strong she hugged her arms around herself to fight the pain. This is how she’d pictured their life together when Dillon had asked her to marry him.

  But tonight was a farce. In a few days, she would be erased from the picture. She wouldn’t be here with Dillon to give Petey his bath, to wrap his squirmy body in a big towel and dress him for bed. She wouldn’t be the one to kiss him good-night and cuddle him until he fell into a peaceful sleep.

  “I never knew toddlers were so active,” Dillon whispered, joining her in the hall. “But he’s out of it now. He didn’t even move when I laid him in his bed.”

  “He’s had quite a day.”

  “Yeah. So have you.” His tone grew husky. “Thanks for letting me stay tonight while you got Petey ready for bed and persuaded him to go to sleep. I never thought about it being such a hazardous task.”

  “It isn’t always.”

  He walked closer, his eyes never leaving her face. “And thanks for going to dinner at Mom’s. She’s had a hard time lately, and I know having you there meant a lot to her.”

  “It seems everyone at the ranch is having a hard time lately.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Suspicion cooled Dillon’s tone a degree or two, and Ashley watched the easy tilt of his chin jut into fighting position. Good. This was the side of him she needed to see. His softer side might make her underestimate his capabilities to fight for what he wanted.

  “I have a few questions,” she said, “and I’d like straight answers.”

  “That’s the only kind I give. Fire away.”

  “Who is it that wants you dead?”

  He stared at her, his eyes hard as steel. “Right now, after last month’s special tax session, half the people in Texas. The other half love me. Next question.”

  “A straight answer, Dillon. That one had more curves than the Rio Grande.”

  “Then ask a straight question.”

  “Okay, who is sending you death threats?”

  He raked a lock of dark hair from his brow and eyed her suspiciously. “What did Mother tell you?”

  “Not much. She’s worried about you.”

  “There’s no reason for either of you to worry.” Dillon stepped closer, the intensity in his eyes defying his attempts to keep the conversation light. “It’s just some crackpot with a pen and a grudge. It’s hardly worth the trouble of finding out who’s responsible. Every politician worth his salt makes enemies.”

  “You mean you don’t even know who’s sending the threats?”

  “No. He doesn’t grace the page with his signature. No name and no reason for his anger, except that I’m a dirty, lying thief, or words to that effect.”

  “Crackpots can be dangerous.” They both knew that all too well. The memory of Dillon, dressed in his wedding tux, lying in his own blood…A shudder shook her.

  Dillon hooked a thumb in the corner of his front pocket, watching her closely, but coming no closer. “Not this crackpot. He’s yellow-bellied. Otherwise he’d sign his threats and come out in the open to do his fighting.”

  His voice was calm, but his muscles were stretched taut. There were things he wasn’t telling her.

  “I have to know one thing, Dillon. Is my son in danger on the ranch?”

  He clenched his jaw. Anger burned in his eyes. “I can take care of my own, Ashley. No one is in danger on the Randolph spread.”

  “Your mother is worried.”

  “Without cause. I’m in full control here. Count on it.”

  For once she believed him. He’d always held the controls.

  “Would you like some coffee, Dillon?”

  He hesitated. “Yeah, that sounds great.”

  He followed her to the kitchen and straddled a highbacked kitchen chair while she opened the pantry door and took inventory.

  “The coffee and filters are in the cabinet over the coffeepot,” he said, stretching his feet out in front of him. “There’s another pound of brew in the pantry if you run out. Other than that, food supplies are pretty scarce, except for breakfast stuff and some salty snacks. That’s about all I eat here.”

  “I’ll go into town tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Fine. Langley or one of the ranch hands can drive you if you like.”

  Ashley filled the coffeemaker with cool water from the tap and took two crockery mugs from the shelf. Dillon ambled from his chair to the refrigerator and stood with the door open, examining its contents.

  “Are you hungry?” Ashley asked, remembering that he always was.

  “I’m getting that way. Do you mind if I rustle up some eggs and toast?”

  “Of course not.”

  Dillon took out the eggs and Ashley scavenged for a small skillet. “Let me do it,” she said, taking the eggs from him.

  He acquiesced without an argument, settling in his chair. “Two, over easy, if it’s not too much trouble.”

  Eggs over easy, with toast drenched in butter and bacon so crispy it broke into a dozen pieces when you tried to pick it up. Ashley’s hands trembled as she cracked the fresh eggs and let them spill from the shell to the hot frying pan.

  It seemed years since she’d cooked breakfast for Dillon. Then it had been in her tiny apartment in Austin, usually after a night of lovemaking that had left her limbs sore and aching for more.

  She struggled for air and to put the memories behind her where they belonged. But her pulse was still racing when she managed to put the plate of food in front of Dillon.

  “Aren’t you going to join me?”

  “I couldn’t eat another bite. Not after the feast your mother cooked.” And not with my stomach churning like a milkmaid.

  “Coffee, at least. I hate to eat alone.”

  Ashley poured her cup only half full and took the chair opposite Dillon. Sleep would be long enough in coming tonight. She didn’t need an excess of caffeine to add to the problem.

  “This is great,” Dillon said, in between wolfing down man-size bites of everything and washing it down with huge gulps of hot coffee. She refilled his cup, grateful for anything to keep her hands busy.

  Dining with the enemy in cozy surroundings. She needed to have her head examined. She didn’t owe Dillon this. She didn’t owe him anything.

  “Thanks, Ashley. I’d forgotten what a great cook you are.”

  Apparently he’d forgotten a lot of things. Lucky him. She looked up and caught his gaze. He was staring at her. The smoky depths of his eyes drew her to him, but it couldn’t be desire.

  All traces of desire had died before she’d left Burning Pear the first time. She had stayed here for two months after the wedding, and Dillon had never touched her in any intimate way. He hadn’t even wanted her in the room with him while he was recovering from the gunshot.

  Later, after Petey was born, she’d swallowed her pride and gone to him. That’s when she’d understood just how deep his bitterness had settled. That’s when she’d decided she could never let him know the truth. If he found out about Petey, he’d do everything in his power to take her son away from her.

  So why now, when she needed all her strength to face him, why did Dillon’s eyes reach out to her like they had in the beginning?

  She ran her fingers along the edge of the table and made herself concentrate on the reason she’d invited him to coffee in the first place. “Why did you miss dinner tonight, Dillon? Did it have to do wit
h the cut fence and the death threats?”

  “It was business, Ashley. Ranches don’t run on banker’s hours. I’m sorry I missed dinner. It wasn’t the first time I’ve missed a meal and it won’t be the last.”

  “In other words, it’s none of my business.”

  “I didn’t say that. I only meant it has nothing to do with you.”

  “I think it might.”

  “Look, Ashley, it’s getting late, and this conversation is getting us nowhere. Whatever you’ve done or not done in the past does not affect how I run my ranch.”

  “I wouldn’t be too sure.” A lump settled in her throat. Hurt was funny. It dissipated but never fully disappeared. “How much do you really know about my past, Dillon?”

  “Everything. I know what you told me about being raised in foster homes, about your brother being killed in a shoot-out with the cops.” He reached for her hand, tangling his fingers with hers. “I know Lester Grant thinks you have a million dollars that belongs to him, the right of the criminal to his stolen loot”

  “Poor material for a wife. But then you figured that out soon enough.”

  “I knew all about your past before I asked you to marry me, Ashley. Probably even more than you know. Strange details show up in investigations.”

  Her mouth flew open. “You had me investigated? Like a piece of land or a breed of cattle?”

  “It wasn’t quite like that.”

  Shock and anger coursed through her. “You dug into the dirty details of my past, but you went ahead with the marriage, anyway. A big mistake on your part, wasn’t it? Bad genes came back to haunt you.”

  “Your past had nothing to do with our separation. And it’s my policy to investigate the background of all new employees. It saves a lot of problems later.”

  “Then why did you hire me as a campaign strategist? According to police reports, my brother must have gotten the money to me before he was shot. I’m supposed to be the proud owner of almost a million dollars in cash. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s not still a disappointed cop tailing me, watching every dime I spend.”

  “I doubt that. You’re too hard to keep track of. But the point is, I wasn’t worried about the money. You were young and ambitious, and you had a spotless work record.”

  “So you decided I might be a thief, but you’d just let it ride. In fact, you’d go ahead and fall in love with me. Why don’t I buy this?” She got up from her chair and paced the room.

  “Because you have it all wrong. All I did was hire a competent, capable worker.”

  “But you didn’t just hire me, Dillon. You courted me, made love to me, married me.” Her voice shook, breaking on the words.

  “I couldn’t…” He shook his head.

  “Don’t stop now, Dillon.”

  “Okay, I won’t. I was worried about your past. You were a risk. I overlooked it all.”

  She captured his gaze. “Why? Just tell me why.”

  He stood and wrapped his hands around her shoulders, pulling her against him. She tried to push away, but his grasp was too strong. His fingers dug into her flesh.

  “Because everything about you seemed too right for anything about you to be wrong.”

  “But it was wrong.” Her voice wavered. “All wrong.”

  “Was it?” His gaze bored into hers, hot as fire, and then his lips were on hers.

  She pushed away, struggling for breath, but his mouth swallowed hers, hard and demanding, his tongue claiming her as it had so many times in the past.

  Her arms quit pushing, and she leaned against him, crushing her breasts into the hardness of his chest. Desire burned inside her, taking her breath away.

  Finally, Dillon pulled away. His hands dropped to his sides, and he stared at her, the fire in his eyes so hot it consumed her.

  Angry protests gathered in her mind. They were useless. Before she could voice them, Dillon turned on his heel and headed for the door, stopping just long enough to grab his hat.

  DILLON GUNNED the engine of his pickup truck and headed down the deserted stretch of road that led to the three-room stucco they used for ranch headquarters. It was late to be working on figures, but it was doubtful he’d get much sleep tonight anyway, not with a certain reporter digging into his campaign fund records.

  Rolling his neck, he tried to relieve a bit of the muscle tension. He hadn’t planned on Ashley hearing about the meaningless threats on his life. In fact, there were a lot of things he didn’t want her to know about. So why in the devil had he brought her to Burning Pear? One thing was for sure. He needed to get her off the ranch fast, before she found out things that gave her grounds for claiming he was an unfit father. Not that the reporter’s claims were based on a shred of truth.

  And before he made any more mistakes like the one he’d made tonight, taking Ashley in his arms and kissing her. Trouble waiting to erupt, and he didn’t need her or her kind of trouble. He had more than enough of his own. The only thing she had that he needed was his son.

  Dillon fingered the brim of his hat and pulled it low over his forehead. Nothing had changed about Ashley, except that she’d grown even more beautiful. Without meaning to, he let his tongue wipe his bottom lip, and for a second, he could have sworn he could still taste her. Salty, but sweet, and…

  He lowered the window and gulped in the dry air. The wind carried the smells of the ranch. Dust, cattle, bales of new hay. He concentrated on them and on the dirty business he had to take care of in San Antonio tomorrow afternoon. Even that was better than thinking about his moment of weakness with Ashley.

  The left tire hit a rut, and Dillon jerked the steering wheel to the right, letting the truck ride the center of the narrow road. Something caught his eye, and he slowed. Probably just a shadow. All the fence cuttings had been on the other side of the ranch, on the acreage that ran the northern border. Still, the way things were going, he couldn’t be too careful.

  Spinning the steering wheel, he headed off the road and around a cluster of mesquite. He saw movement again, but this time the image was clear. It was a man on horseback, about a hundred yards away, outlined in the silver moonlight.

  Adrenaline surged like an erupting volcano, and Dillon floored the accelerator, flying over the bumpy ground and dodging scraggly mesquite branches and prickly cactus plants.

  The horse slowed to a canter, and the rider took off his hat and started waving it in Dillon’s direction. Dillon steered the truck in a turn until the headlights caught the night rider in full beam.

  He recognized the figure as soon as Riff leaned over and let fly a stream of tobacco. Disappointment settled like lead in Dillon’s gut. For a minute, he was sure he’d cornered the low-down swine that was upsetting the whole ranch with his stupid threats and juvenile vandalism.

  “What in the devil are you doing out here this time of the night?” Dillon asked, when he was close enough to be heard without yelling.

  “Just checking the place out. What with your wife and son living out this way now, I just wanted to make sure all was quiet”

  “And is it?”

  “Yep. ‘Cept for a couple of coyotes serenading from the bushes. But then I guess you know that yourself. Your truck was parked right out in front of the house for a mighty long time.”

  “Are you spying on me, Riff?”

  “No way, Senator. I’m just doing my job. It’s no matter to me how much time you spend in your own house.” Riff ran his hand down the neck of his bay. “It’s probably none of my business, but if I had a wife looked like the one you got, I’d be trying to get reacquainted with her, too. You catch my drift?”

  “You’re absolutely right, Riff.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. It’s none of your business.”

  “Oh, come on, Senator. You know you like my telling you what to do. If you didn’t, you’d stay up there in Austin with them highfalutin government types all the time instead of coming to the ranch to get your boots all dirty and get a little sweat on them fancy
shirts of yours.”

  “This time I barely have time to get a good coat of mud on the soles of my boots. I have to be back in Austin day after tomorrow.” Dillon opened the truck door and climbed out. “Who’s riding guard tonight?”

  He was glad to change the subject, but the new one wasn’t much better. He would be tired when this irritating mess was over. Up until a few weeks ago, no one had ever ridden guard on Burning Pear.

  “Trick took the ten-to-two shift.”

  “By himself?”

  “Yes, sir. That’s the way he wanted it, and Branson said to let him handle it. He told Trick to take the cellular and give a holler if anything suspicious showed up. I’ll go on out and find him if you think he needs the help. If he finds the man, he’d probably talk him to death instead of bringing him in.”

  “I’m sure Trick can handle it. In fact, I’d be surprised if there’s anything to handle tonight. Hitting two nights in a row would be too predictable.” Dillon slid under the steering wheel of his truck.

  “The man likes to keep us on our toes, all right, but we’ll catch him soon.”

  “You seem awful sure that it’s a one-man operation.” Dillon turned the key in the ignition then looked at Riff. “Next time you’re in town, keep your eyes and ears open. See if that stranger who was asking questions in Kelman a couple of weeks ago has shown up again.”

  “It’s not a stranger who’s cutting fences and writing ugly notes, Senator. It’s someone who lives close by. Real close by, is my guess. like that Potter Bingley.”

  “No accusations without proof, Riff. You know how I feel about that.”

  “Yeah. But I don’t trust that whiny, weasel-eyed Texan as far as I can throw him.”

  “I’d have to agree with you, but he’s been whiny and weasel-eyed for years, and we’ve never had problems like this before.”

  Riff nodded and tipped his hat. “Don’t you worry about a thing, Senator. I’ll take good care of your wife. I’ll know where she is every minute. You can count on it.”