by Terri Reed
“What is this about?” she asked. “Are you working for the Degas Corporation?”
He scoffed. “Naw. But they’re offering a lot of money for cooperation.”
“The sheriff knows where I was going.”
He shrugged. “No one saw you arrive. And no one saw you leave.” He cocked his head for a moment, then took out a cell phone from his pocket. Her phone. “You’re going to call your uncle and tell him you went into town.”
She bent her elbows and waved her hands to show she couldn’t lift a phone to her ear. “Sorry. No can do, unless you undo the tape.”
“What’s the number?”
She remained silent.
He walked to the workbench and picked up a Beretta 9 millimeter fitted with a sound suppressor. “You’ll give me the number, or I’ll shoot out your kneecap.”
The menacing look in his eyes let her know he would do as he threatened. A wave of impotent fury hit her. She had no choice but to comply. She gave him the number. He dialed, put the device on speaker and held it close enough for her to speak into but not close enough for her to reach him with her limited mobility.
Her uncle answered on the first ring. “Did you find Wyatt?”
“Yes. He’s fine.” At least, she prayed he was. “I’m heading into town.”
“Town?”
“Yes. I need some things.”
“Oh. Okay.” Doubt and confusion laced each word. “Well, let me ask Penny if there’s anything you could pick up for her. You know she hates to go into town.”
Darrin shook his head.
Jackie grimaced. “Uh, I’ll have to call back. Gotta go.”
Darrin powered the phone off and stuffed it into his pocket.
“You can’t keep me here.”
He shrugged. “It shouldn’t be long. Only until Monroe signs the papers.”
She was supposed to believe he’d let her go? “And if he doesn’t?”
He gave a smug smile. “Oh, he will once he learns we have you.”
“You want to use me as leverage?” She let out a dry laugh. Unbelievable. The guy was out of his mind. Though knowing Wyatt, he’d feel responsible for her capture and would do whatever he needed to rescue her. But she had to make Darrin believe otherwise. “Dude, Wyatt’s not going to care one way or the other. We’ve only just met. We hardly know each other.”
“Didn’t look that way to me.” He wagged his dark eyebrows. “The way you two were kissing, I’d say there’s something going on.”
Her stomach tightened. He’d seen that? Totally creeped out, she shivered and raised a leg to rest her ankle on her knee; her second weapon was beneath her pant leg, and she wanted it close. The familiar feel of the piece’s weight in the holster gave her a measure of peace. Now if she could only get to it.
She covered her calf with her hand. “It was one kiss that meant nothing.” And meant everything. At least to her.
“You’re not a very good liar,” he stated. “I know Wyatt. He doesn’t mess around with anyone. Every single female within a hundred-mile radius has been after him since his wife died. You’re the first to catch his fancy. I say he’ll care and do what he needs to do.”
“Or what?” she shot back. “You’re going to kill me either way, aren’t you? Just like you tried to kill Wyatt the other day when you shot at his truck.”
Darrin scoffed. “If I had wanted either of you dead, you’d be dead.”
She believed him. There was something very dangerous about this man. “You killed George, though, didn’t you?”
Darrin’s mouth tightened, and he moved toward the workbench. Turing his back to her, he rummaged around the table.
Keeping her eye on his back, she eased her hand beneath her pant leg.
He whipped around, the gun aimed at her head. “Raise your hands,” he snapped.
Frustration pulsed in her veins. She lifted her hands, palm up. “Sorry, had an itch.”
He approached. She braced herself. He kicked her foot off her knee.
Tires on the dirt outside the shed sent her captor scurrying toward the door.
“Help! Someone help me!” she screamed, hoping to alert whoever was out there, praying it was a friend and not a foe.
Darrin moved swiftly to the wall and pressed his back next to the door, just as it slid open.
Boyd Dunn stepped inside. He stopped short when he saw Jackie. Confusion twisted his face. “Darrin, what’s going on?”
She’d been right. Her assailant was Darrin Dunn. “Help me,” she pleaded. “Your brother’s crazy.”
Boyd grinned. “Yes, ma’am, he is that. On every day that ends with a y.”
Darrin pushed away from the wall. “Well, did he sign?”
Boyd shook his head as his gaze flicked over her. “No. What’s she doing here?”
“I found her snooping around the barn. I didn’t want her mess’n’ anything up.”
“Now what?” Boyd asked, turning toward his brother. “The old man will not be happy about this.”
“You let me worry about him. Is Monroe still at the house?”
Boyd shrugged. “Was when I left.” Jutting his chin in her direction, he asked, “What’ya gonna do with her?”
“Monroe will sign when he learns we have his ladylove,” Darrin stated.
Boyd seemed to think that over. “Maybe. Maybe not. He killed his wife. So what makes you think he’ll care about this one?”
A dark light entered Darrin’s blue eyes. Foreboding skated over Jackie, leaving a trail of chills in its wake. “Then we’ll take what he does care about.”
“Oh, yeah, what’s that?”
“His kid.”
Jackie’s heart sank. Failure ripped through her. Gabby was in danger now, too. Wyatt would never forgive her if anything happened to his daughter. She’d never forgive herself.
FIFTEEN
Wyatt’s eyebrows rose when Sheriff Landers walked into the barn. What was his stepfather doing here?
“What’s the meaning of this?” Landers pushed his way into the circle and came to a halt beside Wyatt.
“A little friendly meeting, Sheriff. Nothing to get worked up about,” Frank Dunn stated. “Wyatt came of his own free will.”
Landers met Wyatt’s gaze. Wyatt nodded. Yes, he’d come of his own accord. He had a feeling if Landers hadn’t shown up, these people wouldn’t have let Wyatt leave. At least without signing the papers laid across the top of a nearby oak barrel. But he didn’t want to sign those papers, so for the first time in his life he took advantage of the fact that his stepfather was the law in this town. “I was just leaving. Walk me out, Sheriff.”
Landers’s eyebrows twitched. “Good. Let’s go.”
They left the barn and headed toward where the sheriff’s cruiser sat parked behind Wyatt’s rig. “What was that all about?”
“A plea to change my mind about taking the Degas offer.”
“And?”
Wyatt sighed. “I’m still thinking.”
“You better check in at home,” Landers said as they halted beside his car. “Ms. Blain and her relatives were pretty upset that you’d taken off.”
He’d just bet. He should have at least told Carl he was headed to the Dunn ranch. But at least Jackie was there watching over Gabby. “How did you find me?”
Landers gave him a wry look. “How do you think?”
“Jackie,” Wyatt stated. A pressure built in his chest. She’d been worried enough about him to call the sheriff.
“Righto. She followed a goose chase out to the Freeman ranch, but eventually figured you’d headed here.” He frowned. “She said she was heading this way.”
Wyatt frowned, too. He should have known she wouldn’t stay put. “She must have realize
d I wasn’t in any danger and went back to the ranch,” he reasoned, though a sense of uneasiness crept over him. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Jackie’s number. It went straight to voice mail. Wyatt called Carl Kirk.
After the first ring, Carl answered. “You’re safe?”
“Yeah. No worries. Where’s Jackie?”
“She called, said she’d found you and that you were all right. She was heading to town for something.”
Odd that she didn’t check in with him since she’d gone through all the trouble of tracking him down. But then again, it wasn’t as if he was her responsibility, even if she said she wanted to be his self-appointed bodyguard. Yet...he couldn’t shake the strange sense of foreboding winding its way through him. “Tell Gabby I’m on my way home.”
“Will do,” Carl said. “And, Wyatt, we’re glad you’re all right.”
Affection for the older couple spread a warm path through his chest. “Thanks.”
He hung up and relayed what he’d been told to Landers.
“Would you mind following me to the house?” Landers asked. “Your mother really needs some face time with you.”
Anxiety kicked up its heels. “Is Mom okay?”
“She’s fine. She’d be better if she could talk to you. It would ease her mind to know firsthand how you’re doing.”
Staring into his stepfather’s eyes, Wyatt saw concern and tenderness directed at him. Jackie’s words about Craig caring echoed in his head. He had thought she was mistaken, but now he realized she’d been right. His stepfather did care about him.
“I know you and I haven’t had the best relationship,” Landers said, his voice low and full of emotion. “I can never replace your father. I understand that. But I want you to understand, this anger you harbor toward your mother is undeserved. She tried hard with your dad. You have no idea what he put her through.”
Wyatt stiffened. Fury spread through his chest like lava flowing from the mound of bitterness lodged somewhere near his heart and wiped away the moment of kinship he’d been feeling. “She left my dad for you. There’s not much more for me to know.”
“There’s a lot more.” Craig’s voice shook with suppressed rage. “Your father was an abusive drunk long before she left him. He wouldn’t get help. Your mother left him hoping he’d realize how bad it had gotten and change. But he didn’t.” Craig stepped closer until he was in Wyatt’s face, his eyes narrowed. “And for the record, your mom and I didn’t start dating until six months after their divorce was final.”
The stunning revelation knocked Wyatt back on his heels. “That’s not what my dad said.”
“Your dad wanted to use you as a way to hurt your mom. And he succeeded, didn’t he?”
Shaking his head, Wyatt tried to deny what Craig said. But deep inside, the truth stirred like a bear awakening after a long winter sleep. Memories, long buried, surfaced. The fights before his mom left. Images of his dad drunk and snarling at Mom, at him. The way his dad had blamed his mom for everything, even when the ranch was losing money. Wyatt hadn’t learned to be a businessman from his father, not really. His dad tried to teach him, but Dad had been too intoxicated to make much sense. But he’d been his dad. Wyatt had craved his attention. And now he realized, as guilt swamped him, that he’d turned his back on his mother because of lies and false beliefs.
“Why didn’t she ever tell me this?” Wyatt asked.
Craig’s anger faded, and compassion softened his expression. “She didn’t want to hurt you.”
But he’d hurt her. Time and again.
Now he realized his view of her had been skewed. Tainted.
Jackie’s image rose in his mind. She would tell him to get over himself. To let go of the past and make amends.
God’s plan is better than any we could ever come up with.
What plan did God have for Wyatt?
Jackie believed God had a plan for her. Jackie, who had every right to be bitter and hardened after what her fiancé had done, was loving and caring and so full of life. She made Wyatt want to be a better man. And a better man would do his best to repair his relationship with his mother.
“I’ll come to the house,” he said.
Landers gave a satisfied nod and climbed into his car. As Wyatt followed Landers, he checked his cell phone. He had two missed calls. He listened to the messages. One from Carl wanting to know if he was okay. And one from Jackie. Her voice sounded stressed. No doubt upset that he’d taken off without her.
But he couldn’t help the spurt of hope that maybe her concern stemmed from more than her need to act as his bodyguard. He wanted her to care about him. As a man—a man who cared about her. Warmth spread through his chest as images of Jackie played across his mind. Wild curls, impish face so full of life. Her laugh melted his heart. Okay, he cared. More than he should or wanted to. But he did. Didn’t mean he’d act on it.
He brought his truck to a halt in front of Landers’s single-story house on the outskirts of town in one of the more modern residential neighborhoods that had sprung up over the past decade or so.
A white picket fence surrounded a well-kept yard with a lush lawn and an array of colorful blossoms. Wyatt entered the house behind Landers and slowly closed the door. The scent of fried chicken permeated the air and made Wyatt’s stomach rumble. He missed his mother’s cooking. He did okay for himself and Gabby, but there was nothing like his mother’s chicken. Shaking off the nostalgia clogging his throat, he stepped fully into the living room. The place hadn’t changed much over the years. Well lived in, with furniture in a deep red fabric, pictures of Gabby hanging on the walls and a television in the corner.
His mother entered from the kitchen, an apron covering her jeans and plaid shirt. Her short dark hair curled about her face, and her smile was so happy and full of love and directed at him. It melted the coldness around his heart.
He opened his arms. “Mom.”
She flew to him and hugged him tight. “I could hardly believe it when Craig called to say you were stopping by. I can’t tell you how happy it makes me.”
Guilt twisted him up inside. “Sorry, Mom.”
She pulled back to look up at him. Her dark eyes never missed anything. “No apologies. It’s been a trying time for you. Ever since...”
She winced slightly and withdrew from him. He wasn’t sure if she were referring to George’s murder or Dina’s death. Truth be told, times had been trying way before either of those two events had slammed into his life. But why rub at old wounds? “I just wanted to stop in and let you know I’m okay. Everything is okay. Gabby’s okay. We’re all okay.”
But even to his own ears, the words sounded hollow. He’d thought he was doing well. Had convinced himself his world was complete with just him and Gabby. That was before a certain curly-haired, blue-eyed blonde had rushed to his defense in the jailhouse and inserted herself into his life. An ache throbbed beneath his breastbone. He absently rubbed over the spot.
“Please tell me you’ll stay for supper,” his mother said.
He shook his head. “I need to get home to Gabby.”
“I’m sure Carl and Penny have already fed her,” Mom insisted. “And you need to eat. It won’t take long. I have mashed potatoes, green beans and fried chicken.”
His stomach grumbled again. It was hard to pass up his mother’s food. “I’ll eat. But I can’t stay long.”
She threaded her arm through his and pulled him into the kitchen. Craig was setting the table. Three place settings. Interesting. Craig had been confident Mom would talk him into staying.
“Wash your hands,” Mom instructed Wyatt. With a beaming smile, she said to Craig, “Set him a place.”
Craig nodded. “Already done.”
Wyatt washed up and then sat in his old spot. For a moment he was transported back in time to high sch
ool, when his mother had insisted he sit at the table for dinner with them on Sundays. He’d been sullen, hurt and angry and had made his displeasure known quite loudly. Shame for his behavior itched like a tick burrowing in. He owed his mother an apology. He didn’t know where to begin.
His mother sat on his right, and his stepfather across from him.
“Craig, would you say grace?” Mom asked.
“My pleasure,” Craig said with a loving smile at his wife.
Wyatt’s heart squeezed tight. Why had he never seen how much these two loved each other? Too self-absorbed. Too self-centered. Too hurt to look beyond his own pain.
“Dear Lord, thank You for this meal we’re about to receive, and thank You for the family we have here tonight.”
Wyatt blinked back the burning in his eyes. Family. He’d missed out because he’d been so full of pride and anger. It had to stop. He was letting Gabby down by keeping a wall between him and his mother and stepfather.
“Thank You, Father God. Amen,” Craig finished.
“Amen,” Wyatt echoed. He slid his hand over his mother’s. “Mom, I owe you an apology. For so many things. For being such a pain growing up, for staying away.”
She gripped his hand. “It’s all in the past. What matters is you’re here now.”
“I didn’t kill Dina, Mom.” The words broke from him before he could hold them back.
“Oh, Wyatt, I know you didn’t.”
“But you asked if I did. I thought maybe you thought... I mean, you guys were so close, I thought you were choosing her.”
Mom’s face softened. “I liked Dina. We were close. But only because she was your wife. I wanted your marriage to work out. She needed a place to go to give you room.”
He withdrew his hand as shame infused him. “She shouldn’t have had to seek refuge. I should have been a better man. Better husband.”
“I don’t think she made it easy on you,” Mom said. “She was a difficult woman. Spoiled, in fact. And very selfish.”
Wyatt cocked his head. “What?”
Mom shrugged. “She wanted things a certain way. Her way. She wasn’t interested in learning how to be a rancher’s wife. She wanted to be taken care of, not have to take care of others.”
