“What’s this really about?” he asked again softly.
What did he mean? This was about Ruby suffering. Didn’t he see that?
“You tried to convince Ruby not to take the inheritance,” he said. “Why? Why would anyone refuse that kind of money?”
“It’s the money that destroyed her to begin with,” she said. “Jackson’s kidnapping only made everything worse.”
“Adair money? How?”
“Your family treated her like trash and supported Reginald divorcing her. They never liked her.”
“Who? My grandparents? Things have changed, Georgia. I don’t see them here. It’s just me, Whit and Landry. We had nothing to do with how anyone treated your stepmother.”
Well. He certainly had a way of putting her in her place. The worst part was he was right. She was tossing blame around wherever she could. If it had the name Adair attached to it, there was plenty to spread around.
She didn’t know what to say. She still didn’t trust him or his family, his money, their money. It was really that simple.
He leaned forward and pressed the elevator call button. “I’ll see you tonight.”
She watched him walk away, an inner struggle warring inside her.
The elevator doors opened but she didn’t get inside. Impulse made her walk after Carson.
“Carson?”
He stopped and faced her.
“I’m sorry. Maybe I am out of line. Ruby married a rich man and all it got her was a broken heart. His family never accepted her. And now the inheritance is pulling her back into that life. I’m afraid of what it will do to her. That’s why I can’t help wishing Reginald had left Ruby out of his will.”
A sexy grin curved up on his face. “I’m glad he didn’t.”
Georgia stared at him in slow comprehension. He wasn’t glad for Ruby, he was glad for himself. Because he’d met her.
The sound of a car approaching penetrated her awareness. They stood in the middle of the parking garage lane. Georgia stepped back to get out of the way when she spotted a man wearing sunglasses and a hat aim a gun out of the driver-side window.
Carson tackled her right as fear consumed her and the gun fired. She landed hard on the concrete behind the protection of a pickup truck. More shots rang out, pinging as the bullets hit the truck. Carson stayed on top of her while tires screeched and the sound of the car grew fainter.
Georgia sat up when Carson stood to peer over the hood of the truck. Georgia could no longer hear the car.
“Who was that?” she asked, breathy with wild adrenaline.
“I don’t know.” He reached for her hands to help her to her feet. “Are you hurt?”
Stepping back from him, she surveyed her body, wiping her hands down her now-dirty skirt suit. She had a minor scrape on her leg and her hands were a little sore, but other than a little shaken up, she was okay. “No bullet holes, so I couldn’t be better.”
Her attempt at humor fell flat on him. His brow was dark and low in grave contemplation. He must have some ideas about who had just shot at them. Wait. Why would anyone shoot at her? The inheritance? It didn’t seem likely. And as she recalled the way the man had aimed the gun, it hadn’t been directed at her. It had been directed at Carson.
“Why would anyone want to shoot you?” she asked.
His eyes met hers but he’d closed up. “Go back inside, Georgia. I’ll take care of this.”
Take care of it how? He ushered her to the elevator.
“But—”
He gave her a gentle push when the doors opened. She stepped inside and faced him.
“The police may want to question you.”
“I can wait for them to get here.”
“Go back inside. I want you out of danger. What if the car returns?”
“What about you?” He was in more danger than her.
“I was a marine. I can take care of myself.” Instead of sounding conceited, he spoke out of honesty and in a teasing tone. Sexy. Manly. A molten shiver ran through her. Then she checked herself. If she wasn’t careful, she could fall head over heels...for an Adair.
Copyright © 2015 by Harlequin Books S.A.
ISBN-13: 9781460378649
A Real Cowboy
Copyright © 2015 by Carla Bracale
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