by B. J Daniels
Ed caught a whiff of the blonde’s perfume and realized he was holding her sweater to his bleeding skull. He took another sniff of it. Nice. He tried to remember exactly what had transpired. It had all happened so fast. “Did you see who hit me?” he asked.
“I saw a man and a woman going down the alley,” Alec said. “I thought you said she’d be alone?”
That’s what he had thought. It had all been set up in a way that should have come off like clockwork. So where had whoever hit him come from? “So neither of you got a look at the guy?”
Nick cleared his throat. “I thought at first that he was working with you.”
“Why would you think that?” Ed demanded, his head hurting too much to put up with such stupid remarks. “The son of a bitch coldcocked me with something.”
“A gun. It was a gun,” Alec said. “I saw the light catch on the metal when he tucked it back into his pants.”
“He was carrying a gun?” Ed sat up, his gaze going to Nick. “Is that why you thought he was part of the plan?”
“No, I didn’t see the gun,” Nick said. “I just assumed he was in on it because of who he was.”
Ed pressed the sweet-smelling sweater to his head and tried not to erupt. “Are you going to make me guess? Or are you frigging going to tell me who was he?”
“Jack Durand.”
“What?” Ed couldn’t believe his ears. What were the chances that Tom Durand’s son would show up on this particular street? Unless his father had sent him? That made no sense. Why pay me if he sent his son?
“You’re sure it was Jack?”
“Swear on my mother’s grave,” Nick said as he drove in wider circles. “I saw him clear as a bell. He turned in the alley to look back. It was Jack, all right.”
“Go back to that alley,” Ed ordered. Was this Tom’s backup plan in case Ed failed? Or was this all part of Tom’s real plan? Either way, it appeared Jack Durand had the girl.
* * *
CASSIDY LOOKED AS if she might make a run for it at any moment. That would be a huge mistake on her part. But Jack could tell that she was now pretty sure she shouldn’t be trusting him. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep her here. She reached for her phone, but he laid a hand on her arm.
“That’s the van coming back,” he said quietly. At the sound of the engine growing nearer, he signaled her not to make a sound as he pulled her deeper into the darkness of the doorway recess. The van drove slowly up the alley. He’d feared they would come back. That’s why he’d been hesitant to move from their hiding place.
Jack held his breath as he watched the blonde, afraid she might do something crazy like decide to take her chances and run. He wouldn’t have blamed her. For all she knew, he could have been in on the abduction and was holding her here until the men in the van came back for her.
The driver of the van braked next to the open doorway. The engine sat idling. Jack waited for the sound of a door opening. He’d put the gun into the back waistband of his jeans before he’d grabbed the blonde, thinking the gun might frighten her. As much as he wanted to pull it now, he talked himself out of it.
At least for the moment. He didn’t want to get involved in any gunplay—especially with the young woman here. He’d started carrying the gun when he’d worked for his father and had to take the day’s proceeds to a bank drop late at night. It was a habit he’d gotten used to even after he’d quit. Probably because of the type of people who worked with his father.
After what seemed like an interminable length of time, the van driver pulled away.
Jack let out the breath he’d been holding. “Come on, I’ll see that you get someplace safe where you can call the police,” he said and held out his hand.
She hesitated before she took it. They moved through the dark shadows of the alley to the next street. The sky above them had turned a deep silver in the evening light. It was still hot, little air in the tight narrow street.
He realized that wherever Cassidy Hamilton had been headed, she hadn’t planned to return until much later—thus the sweater. He wanted to question her, but now wasn’t the time.
At the edge of the buildings, Jack peered down the street. He didn’t see the van or Ed’s green car. But he also didn’t think they had gone far. Wouldn’t they expect her to call the police? The area would soon be crawling with cop cars. So what would Ed do?
A few blocks from the deserted area where they’d met, they reached a more commercial section. The street was growing busier as people got off work. Restaurants began opening for the evening meal as boutiques and shops closed. Jack spotted a small bar with just enough patrons that he thought they could blend in.
“Let’s go in here,” he said. “I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink. You should be able to make a call from here. Once I know you’re safe...”
They took a table at the back away from the television over the bar. He removed his Stetson and put it on the seat next to him. When Cassidy wasn’t looking, he removed the .45 from the waistband of his jeans and slid it under the hat.
“What do you want to drink?” he asked as the waitress approached.
“White wine,” she said and plucked nervously at the torn corner of her blouse. Other than the torn blouse, she looked fine physically. But emotionally, he wasn’t sure how much of a toll this would take on her over the long haul. That was if Ed didn’t find her.
“I’ll have whiskey,” he said, waving the waitress off. He had no idea what he was going to do now. He told himself he just needed a jolt of alcohol. He’d been playing this by ear since seeing his father and Ed at the cemetery.
Now he debated what he was going to do with this woman given the little he knew. The last thing he wanted, though, was to get involved with the police. He was sure Ed and his men had seen him, probably recognized him. Once his father found out that it had been his son who’d saved the blonde...
The waitress put two drinks in front of them and left. He watched the blonde take a sip. She’d said her name was Cassidy Hamilton. She’d also said she didn’t know why anyone would want to abduct her off the street, but he suspected that wasn’t true.
“So is your old man rich or something?” he asked and took a gulp of the whiskey.
She took a sip of her wine as if stalling, her gaze lowered. He got his first really good look at her. She was a knockout. When she lifted her eyes finally, he thought he might drown in all that blue.
“I only ask because I’m trying to understand why those men were after you.” She could be a famous model or even an actress. He didn’t follow pop culture, hardly ever watched television and hadn’t been to the movies in ages. All he knew was, at the very least, she’d grown up with money. “If you’re famous or something, I apologize for not knowing.”
* * *
CASSIDY’S HAND SHOOK as she put down her drink. She could feel the buzz of the alcohol mixing with the adrenaline still flowing through her bloodstream.
Someone had tried to abduct her! She’d grown up knowing something like this occasionally happened to the children of wealthy people in the public eye. But she’d never really been concerned because she’d grown up in Montana on a large ranch. After she’d left home, she hadn’t made a habit of telling her friends who her father was—and not because she feared being abducted.
For years, she’d tried to distance herself from the notoriety that had always surrounded her family. She’d wanted her own life, which wasn’t easy when you were an identical twin. She’d never felt like anything was truly uniquely hers. Add to that her infamous family and Cassidy just wanted to be free of what she considered a stigma.
But someone had found her. Not just found her, but had tried to kidnap her. She shuddered at the thought of what those men had planned to do with her.
“Look, I understand if you don’t wan
t to tell me,” the Texas cowboy said. “It’s none of my business. I’ll just finish my drink and get on my way.”
Cassidy looked at the man across the table from her and felt a rush entirely different from the alcohol or the adrenaline. This man had saved her. Gratitude alone would have made her feel close to him. But there was something about him... She’d grown up around good-looking cowboys. But this one was exceptional. His dark hair was long and thick. His blue eyes laced with thick dark lashes. Maybe it was the alcohol amplifying her vision, but Jack Durand was drop-dead gorgeous and she hadn’t even noticed until this moment. Wouldn’t her friends get a laugh out of that, she thought, forgetting for the moment what had brought them together. She finished her drink, her hand a little steadier.
“Whatever you decide to do, I would suggest you call the police,” he was saying. “You aren’t safe.”
His words brought back the horrible minutes when the large man grabbed her and tried to put that stinking wet cloth in her face. Glancing toward the window to the street, she shivered. “You think they’re still looking for me?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Her gaze swung back to him. The bar was cool and dark and she felt safe sitting here with this cowboy. While a stranger, he’d risked his life to save her. “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come along. I haven’t even thanked you.”
“No need to thank me. After what you’ve been through... Whatever the reason, though, I don’t think they’re going to give up.”
“Thank you and please don’t leave yet.” She was just so relieved he was here with her. What if he hadn’t come along when he had? She looked around for the waitress. She was still trembling inside, but the alcohol was helping. She really could use another drink.
He signaled for the waitress and she was grateful when he ordered another round.
“It is strange, though, that someone would be that brazen as to try to grab you in broad daylight,” he said.
Cassidy looked away for a moment. “I can’t imagine why anyone would try to...” As she turned back and met his gaze, she saw his expression turn skeptical and knew that if she wasn’t honest with him, he was going to let her deal with this on her own. Not that she could blame him.
“It probably has more to do with my father,” she added quickly.
“Your father? Who’s your father?”
“Republican presidential candidate Buckmaster Hamilton.”
He blinked. Clearly, he hadn’t connected the last name. Hamilton was pretty common so she wasn’t surprised he hadn’t made the leap. He pursed his lips, letting out a low whistle before he picked up his drink and drained it.
“That definitely puts things in perspective,” he said after a moment.
This was why she didn’t tell people about her father.
“I would think you’d have secret service watching you,” he said.
She shook her head. “They only provide agents for the underage children of candidates after the primaries.”
He looked surprised. “Well, I’m sure once you call the police—” The waitress returned with their drinks and took away the empty glasses.
She fiddled with her torn blouse. “I can’t go to the police.”
Jack seemed both surprised and maybe relieved to hear that. She didn’t blame him for not wanting to get involved. After all, he’d hit that man who was trying to abduct her. He was a hero. But that came with police reports to fill out, followed by an investigation. Once the media got involved... She quaked at the thought.
“Why don’t you want to go to the police?”
She took a sip of her wine before she said, “Do you have any idea what it’s like being the daughter of first a senator and now a presidential candidate who, according to the polls, is headed for the White House?”
“Not a clue.”
“I’ve been in the spotlight for one reason or another from as far back as I can remember.” She could feel the alcohol coursing through her blood and felt stronger. She took another sip of her wine and continued. “The rule at our house was always ‘don’t cause trouble because a scandal will hurt your father’s career.’ Since I left home to go away to school, I’ve tried hard to live my own life. But even when I thought people didn’t know who I was, I was still in my father’s shadow. Buckmaster Hamilton casts a very large shadow.”
“This friend you were staying with...”
“More like an acquaintance. But she didn’t know who my father was. Or at least I didn’t think she did.” Cassidy frowned. “Her boyfriend, though... I think he may have known. That’s the other thing about being...famous by extension. People are nice to you for the wrong reasons. It’s hard to have true friends.”
“Where were you headed earlier?” he asked, suddenly intent.
“To meet her and her...boyfriend.” Cassidy felt her eyes widen as her heart dropped. “I was set up, wasn’t I?”
* * *
JACK TRIED NOT to down his entire second drink. Cassidy was the daughter of the future president? What the hell was his father doing trying to abduct her? His father could be stubborn, worked too much, put too much value in making money and was a hard-nosed businessman. But to do something like this? It boggled his mind.
Worse, what was he going to do now? After seeing that wad of money his old man gave Ed and knowing how his father was about employees who didn’t do their jobs to suit him, Jack knew his father wouldn’t stop.
Nor would Ed. He’d be more careful next time. He’d be more prepared. But like Jack had learned, you didn’t let Tom Durand down or there would be hell to pay.
So how could he walk away now? Cassidy would be a sitting duck. And he didn’t want to think about what his father would do when he found out that Jack was involved in fouling his plans.
“Look,” he said to Cassidy. “You have no reason to trust me.” On the surface, he looked like an urban cowboy today instead of the former rodeo cowboy who’d grown up on a huge ranch outside of Houston. His father had bought the ranch as a tax deduction and given it to him lock, stock and barrel when he turned twenty-one. But the deal had always been that he would take over his father’s import/export business at some point.
Once he told his father he had no interest in doing that, that’s when it seemed Tom Durand had changed. Now he wondered if he’d ever known his father at all.
Clearly, the last thing he could do was tell Cassidy who he really was or that he thought he knew who was behind her attack—at least until he had proof.
So he stretched the truth. “But if you’ll let me, I’ll try to keep you safe until we can find out who is behind this and why.”
She took a drink of her second glass of wine. He could see from the shine in her eyes that she was feeling the alcohol. His plan hadn’t been to get her tipsy, let alone drunk. He’d just needed a drink to calm his nerves and a place where they were safe so he could think what to do next.
“What do you have in mind?” she asked.
He wasn’t that surprised that she was willing to trust him. She’d already proved she was too trusting given that she’d trust the acquaintance and boyfriend. But what did he have in mind? His thoughts raced as he considered how he could keep her safe—and yet find out the truth about his father’s involvement.
“We’re going to have to hide you out somewhere until I can get to the bottom of this. For starters, who knew you were in Houston besides this so-called friend and her boyfriend?”
“No one.”
That surprised him. “Not even your family?”
She shook her head. “They think I’m still in New York with a Frenchman I met while studying abroad.”
A Frenchman. Great. “So not even the Frenchman knows?”
Again she shook her head.
“Okay.” He studied her. “Also, y
ou’re too cute and too blonde and too easy to recognize.”
She grinned, taking it as a compliment. “How about if I was a redhead?”
“I’m thinking brunette. I don’t know how you feel about cutting your hair...”
Cassidy shrugged. “I’ve been thinking about cutting it,” she said as she pulled a long lank of her blond hair around to consider it. “A brunette, huh? So a disguise?” The idea seemed to appeal to her. He wondered if it would have before her last glass of wine.
Even with the changes he was suggesting, she’d still be adorable, there was no getting around that. She had one of those classic faces, huge blue eyes, a button nose and bow-shaped mouth. She looked so damned innocent that he felt a stab of guilt. He wasn’t much better than her pretend friends she’d been staying with. Except that he wouldn’t sell her out.
He recalled hearing his father talking about the election and the Hamilton family. Cassidy’s mother, Sarah Johnson Hamilton, had returned from the dead about a year ago. Apparently, she’d tried to kill herself more than twenty-three years before by driving into the Yellowstone River. Her body was never found.
Then one day she just showed up—with no memory of the years she’d been gone. He remembered his father saying that her six daughters were now adults. He frowned as he recalled that the two youngest, twin girls, had only been a few months old when they’d lost their mother.
Going by age, that would have been Cassidy, he realized with a start. There was another one like her? He wondered where she was and if she was safe. His father had remarked that he couldn’t believe how much that family had been through. Hadn’t their stepmother died last year in a car wreck?
“You’re sure you don’t want to change your mind and go to the police?” he asked, feeling he had to give it one more shot since it was the smart thing to do—even if it would involve him and force him to lie. Whatever differences he and his father had, he wasn’t throwing him under a bus until he knew the truth.
“If I go to the police, my name will be in every newspaper and so will my father’s. And what is it you think the police can do to protect me? My father would insist I come home so he could hire guards. Or maybe I would get agents watching me 24/7. I wouldn’t be able to leave the ranch. And for how long? Until after the election? Or until he was no longer president? No, thanks.”
