Family Ties

by Joanna Wayne

  “You and Lester may not have anything to do with me, Ashley, but my son does. I can and will protect him. You can be sure of that.”

  “Can I, Dillon? You haven’t done such a great job of protecting me or you, that’s why I’m taking over. I’m leaving Burning Pear. When I get back, like I told you from the beginning, Petey will be going with me. I will never give up custody of my son.” Her chin trembled, but jutted out defiantly.

  “And how do you plan to do this settling? Are you going to give Lester the money after all these years?”

  “Oh, God. I give up.” Ashley jumped from the couch and threw her hands into the air. “There is no money! What do I have to do to get people to believe me? Dance naked at the Alamo?” She marched to the other side of the room and stared out the window.

  “Okay. Simmer down.” He got up, too, and walked over to stand beside her. “You don’t have the money. That does away with that option. So just how do you propose to get Lester to leave you alone? Dancing naked might work for a lot of guys, but it would take some dance to get Lester to consider it payment for a million dollars.”

  “I’ll talk to him. Even a criminal has to accept the facts eventually. I never heard from my brother after the robbery. I can’t come up with something I don’t have. Lester will just have to accept the truth.”

  “An ex-con with a seven-year obsession saying, ‘Thank you, Ashley, for sharing that with me.’ I’d pay bucks to hear that conversation.”

  “I’ll tell you about it when I get back. Gratis.”

  “You mean if you get back.”

  “It’s a chance I have to take.”

  She might be willing, but he wasn’t. She could walk out on him again when this was over, and she probably would. But she damn well wasn’t going to run away from Burning Pear to face a killer on her own. If nothing else, he owed that to his son.

  “Petey needs you,” he said, his mind searching for reasons she might buy into. “You know yourself what it’s like to grow up without a mother. And if you face Lester alone, there’s a damn good chance you will never come back to your son.”

  Ashley trembled, her eyes misty with unshed tears. He couldn’t bear it when she was upset like this, and yet his words were the ones that were breaking her heart. He slid beneath the force of urges too powerful to control. Reaching out, he gathered her in his arms, rocking her to him, tucking her head beneath his chin.

  Ashley felt the heat from Dillon’s body, felt the rise and fall of his chest, felt his breath on her skin. She’d have given everything for one caress like this three years ago. Now it was too late.

  She struggled free from his embrace, lifting her head to meet and capture his gaze. “My mind is made up, Dillon. This is the only way.”

  “No. It’s not the only way. Lester may be dangerous, Ashley, but he may not be the one responsible for what happened today or yesterday. You know about the death threats I’ve been getting for months. I didn’t take them seriously, but I will now. You and Petey will be safer here than anywhere on earth.”

  She shook her head, not willing or not able to take him at his word. Dillon grimaced. He’d have to come up with something better. “And even if Lester hasn’t given up on getting the money from you…” He paused, searching desperately for a clincher. “Chasing off to reason with a madman is lunacy.”

  That remark got her attention. She hooked her thumbs through her belt loops like an irate cowboy. “Lunacy! Thanks for that vote of confidence. So how does the allwise Senator Randolph suggest I stop him?”

  “Only one way comes immediately to mind,” he admitted.

  “If murder is your choice, I’ll stick to lunacy.”

  “Then let’s try the police,” he argued, determined to break through her resolve. “Lester broke parole when he attacked you in your apartment in Destin. They can stick him in jail where he deserves to be.”

  “And if they do, how long will they keep him? Sixty days? Thirty? Overnight?”

  “One problem at a time.”

  “And until he’s back in jail, what’s to keep him from coming to Burning Pear and putting us all in danger? Which I’m not convinced he hasn’t already. Even you have to admit that the escalation from cut fences and notes to arson and bullets didn’t happen until I showed up on the ranch.”

  “I’ll beef up security. I already have for this part of the ranch. Someone’s been watching you and Petey every second since the fire yesterday.”

  “And what about your mother and the rest of you?”

  “Mom has the same security that’s protecting you. As long as the three of you stay on this part of the ranch, nothing will happen to you. You have my word on that. The rest of us can take care of ourselves.”

  “Why are you doing this, Dillon?” She looked up, her eyes watery depths of glowing amber. “You could just let me go without a fight. You did before.”

  He leaned down, his fingers brushing her cheek and slipping on a silky strand of hair. His insides lurched. “The answer is simple, Ashley. You’re the mother of my son.” His voice pulled tight on the words. “And like it or not, you’re still my wife.”

  “I’m not your wife, Dillon. I never was, not in any true sense of the word. You drew so far away from me after you were shot, there was no way I could reach you.”

  “I did what I thought I had to.”

  “Then why didn’t you finish it? Why didn’t you get the divorce that would put me legally out of your life the same way you had done physically and emotionally?”

  The question seared into his soul, the way it had the million times he’d asked it himself. He struggled to find an answer that made sense, but all he could come up with was the truth.

  “Because I couldn’t. I tried on more than one occasion. But when it was time to sign the final papers, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

  Ashley heard the break in Dillon’s voice, saw the burning intensity in his eyes that bored through to her soul. And then she felt his lips on hers, hard and demanding.

  His hands wrapped around her, crushing her to him. A multitude of reasons to stop him ran rampant through her mind. But her body wouldn’t listen, not when Dillon’s mouth and hands were reviving old memories, bringing them to life.

  His hands skimmed her body, sliding to her hips and up again, a trail of seduction that left her struggling for breath. And then his fingers wound in her hair as his mouth left hers, his lips finding her earlobe, nibbling and sucking before he stopped to whisper in her ear.

  “Oh, Ashley. I can’t undo the past. No one can, but I’m crazy with needing you. You have to know that.”

  His husky words slashed away the final vestiges of control, and she trembled with remembering.

  His hands kneaded the flesh of her back. “You must know what having you here is doing to me.”

  “No. No. No.” Her words dissolved into surrendering whispers.

  Dillon stood and lifted her into his arms, his lips finding their way down her neck to the flesh above her shirt. And then she could feel his mouth through the cloth, tugging at her nipples, hot and wet and setting her on fire.

  It was the Dillon of old who carried her up the stairs, powerful, sure of himself. And she was the Ashley of old, so in love she couldn’t think of anything but satisfying him and of the sweet thrill of fulfillment he was going to give her.

  By the time they reached the bed, passion had taken hold so completely there was no reason, no fears, no holding back. Dillon undressed her in fevered movements, touching the exposed flesh of her stomach, kissing the tortured tightness of her inner thighs as he slid the jeans down her legs and threw them to the floor.

  In mere seconds, he was naked beside her, working his magic, and the years of separation dissolved into fiery thrusts of need and love. A tear slid down Ashley’s cheek as her body ignited and burst into an orgasm so intense she fought for breath. She’d waited so long, but her wedding night had finally come in the bright light of day.

  A mere fl
icker in time, but she’d hold on to it forever.

  THE SULKING HEAT of the day gave way to stormy violence before sunset. Ashley stood on the front porch of Dillon’s house, gazing into the black clouds that rolled and pitched in the north sky, striking at the earth with jabs of jagged lightning.

  The intensity of the storm was a welcome release. Making love to Dillon had been all she’d remembered, fireworks and rockets, sweet and fulfilling. But making love had not changed the past, and she wasn’t sure if anything could change the future.

  But she would stay on Burning Pear for now, just as she had promised Dillon before he left for a day of work on his campaign. The police would have their chance to find Lester and send him to prison. While they searched, she and Petey would be protected by Dillon’s tough security measures. They would be as safe as they could be anywhere. She prayed that was safe enough.

  Lester was out there somewhere, waiting and watching for his chance to get her alone. She knew that as surely as she knew the sun would beat out the storm and return to dry the mud into hard Texas dirt. It was Dillon she didn’t understand.

  She leaned against the porch railing, weak from the thought of his body pressed hard against hers, his hands, his lips traveling over her. The passion had been so great. she’d thought she might die from sheer ecstasy.

  But it had been that way three years ago, too. So much. And then nothing. She’d almost cost him his life, and he’d turned on her, as if she had been the bullet that had torn through his body, all but destroying his manhood and turning his legs to jellylike masses that wouldn’t answer his mind’s commands.

  Time, the doctor had explained. Time, therapy and enormous effort might let him walk again, might help him regain his power to perform sexually. Evidently the doctor had been right. The pleasant ache in her thighs and deep inside her were proof of that.

  Ashley had stayed around for two months after the wedding, two months in which Dillon told her repeatedly he didn’t want her at the ranch, didn’t want any part of her nurturing touch. He’d never met her eyes when she’d begged him to forgive her.

  It had been a different story the day she’d gone to his bedside and told him she was leaving the ranch. Then his eyes had finally met hers, dull and drained of everything except relief.

  And even then, she had made excuses for him. Once he was better, he would understand and forgive. It was only the pain, the fear he might not walk again, might not function as a man that drove the fierce wedge between them. She’d found out differently when she returned to tell him he had a son.

  That’s why she had to make sure that what happened today wasn’t repeated She’d given in to passion once. She wasn’t sorry, but she couldn’t let it happen again. The worst mistake she could make would be to fall under Dillon’s spell so completely that she lost her power to reason. It could lose her the one thing that mattered more than life itself. Her son.

  The wind gusted, strong and biting, breaking into her thoughts. She shuddered as the first drops of rain splashed on the railing, slapping her in the face and mingling with tears she hadn’t realized were falling.

  Lightning struck again, a fiery vertical current that ended in a booming crash of thunder. Ashley turned her head.

  “Not a fit night out for man nor beast.”

  She whirled around. Riff stood behind her, rain dripping from his hat and scraggly mustache, looking more like the beast. “I didn’t see you come up,” she said, a strange uneasiness washing over her.

  “I was around back of the house, making my rounds, like the boss man said to do.” Stamping, he knocked a clump of mud from the sole of his right boot onto the porch floor.

  “So you’re the unlucky one who drew guard duty in the storm,” she said, trying to hide the disappointment that curdled inside her. She was being paranoid again. Dillon would only put a man on guard he was sure he could trust to protect his son.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Riff said, tipping his wet hat. “Not quite sure what kind of spooks I’m supposed to be after over in this area, seeing how all the action’s been up in the north pasture, but if they show up on my watch, I’ll git ‘em.”

  “I’m sure you’d rather be up in the north pasture, then, where the action is.”

  “Not tonight, not with the weather kicking up.” He yanked on his jeans, pulling them up high so they could take their time riding down his hips again. “I can’t lie, though. I’d sure like to git a hold of the dirty skunk what carved up that new calf last night.”

  An icy tremble crawled down Ashley’s spine. “What do you mean carved up a calf?”

  “Didn’t the boss man tell you? No, I guess he didn’t, judging from that look on your face.”

  “How about a cup of coffee, Riff? I just made a fresh pot.”

  “Well, now, that would be right kind of you. Nothing better than a good cup of coffee on a night like this.”

  Ashley swung through the door, Riff at her heels. Inviting him in was the last thing she’d planned, but obviously he had information no one else had bothered to share with her.

  Retrieving a couple of crockery mugs from the top shelf, she poured Riff a full cup and herself only a taste. One after-dinner cup was her limit, and she’d finished it before going out to check the temperament of the storm.

  “Funny thing, ain’t it?” Riff said, tipping his cup back and forth so that the black brew spun around the rim.

  “What’s funny?”

  “You know, you showing up just when trouble does. Burning Pear’s usually a quiet sort of ranch. We get our excitement just tending, branding and selling cattle. Now we’re a regular crime wave. Fire starting, rifle fire, cow butchering. Just kind of funny how it all hit at once.”

  “Yeah, funny.” Too bad she wasn’t laughing. “So, tell me about the calf that was butchered.”

  “Trick found it up at the north pasture. He was riding the fence just after sunup. He ain’t usually out there that early, but he said something told him there had been trouble the night before.”

  “And the trouble was a butchered calf?”

  “That it was. Poor pitiful thing. If it was Potter, the man needs to be locked up. He’s taken complete leave of his senses.”

  Something told her Potter had nothing to do with it. Maybe she and Trick were listening to the same something. “When did Dillon find out about the calf incident?”

  “Before he left San Antonio. Trick called him as soon as he found the calf. That’s why Dillon hightailed it home so early in the morning. Probably why he let that campaign aide ride down with him, too.”

  “Because there was a dead calf?”

  “No, ‘cause of the trouble he’s having with his campaign funds and ‘cause he couldn’t stay at his campaign headquarters in San Antonio to take care of it.”

  Secrets on top of secrets. Dillon might make her weak the second he took her in his arms, but he still considered her an outsider. One afternoon of making love hadn’t changed that.

  Aggravation stewing inside her, she went to the range and filled both cups with the strong brew. Right now she needed the perk of caffeine more than she needed sleep.

  “Have you worked for the Randolphs long?” she asked, settling back in the kitchen chair.

  “Off and on a couple of decades. This stretch, just under three years. Not long before Trick. I recruited him in town when the Randolphs were needing some extra help, on account of the senator’s accident. Back then, the talk was the two of you had separated for good. Sure was a surprise when he showed up here with you a few days ago.”

  Yeah, and no one was more surprised than she was. A new approach was needed in dealing with Riff. He rambled but was skimpy on facts. “So tell me about the notes Dillon’s been getting.”

  “What did he tell you?”

  “Not much. He didn’t want to worry me. But I know he’s concerned.”

  “He ain’t concerned enough, if you ask me. The notes say the Randolphs have been taking what belongs to others long enoug
h, and Dillon will never live to see the day he’s reelected senator. Those ain’t the exact words, but close.”

  Ashley touched her neck, unconsciously trailing the gold circlets of the chain to the locket and up again, her chest constricting in strangling knots.

  “I guess I better git out of here and back to my post,” Riff drawled, draining the last drops of coffee from his cup and carrying it to the sink.

  Ashley followed him to the door in silence, her mind striving to fit together the newest pieces of the puzzle. “You’ll get drenched in this mess, Riff. You should at least move onto the porch for guard duty on a night like this.”

  “This here rain is nothing. I’ve been out in weather twice this bad and not even had a poncho on me.”

  “All the same. You could guard just as well if you’re dry.”

  “If it gets bad, I’ll take you up on it. Either way, you rest easy, Miss Ashley. You don’t have to worry about a thing. Not with me on duty.”

  “Thanks,” she murmured, not at all sure she believed him. But even a killer would have to be crazy to come out on a night like this.

  Crazy. An apt description of Lester Grant.

  Stopping at the bookshelf, Ashley ran her hand along the highest shelf, feeling for the pistol. Her fingers hit the back of the picture frame. The gun was missing. Branson again. Evidently he’d warned Dillon to put the pistol in a new spot, somewhere a shaky woman couldn’t find it and shoot someone by accident.

  And of course Dillon would listen to Branson over considerations for her. After all, Branson was a Randolph.

  She went to the front door and checked the lock before starting up the stairs. Lost in her thoughts, she forgot the squeaky step until she hit it squarely, the noise so loud and unexpected she jumped a foot Stopping to let her pulse return to normal, she counted from the bottom of the staircase. Seventh step, fourth one from the top. She might as well get used to it.

  Thunder crashed again as she topped the last step, and the rain sounded more like hail beating against the window. Poncho or no, she’d bet Riff would be under cover of the porch before long.