by B. J Daniels
He’d forgotten for a moment that Buckmaster Hamilton was a Montana rancher, a former senator and now Republican candidate for president. Cassidy was one of six sisters. Was that another reason she didn’t tell people who she was? He’d thought living under his father’s domineering thumb was hard. Imagine what being one of Buckmaster Hamilton’s daughters would be like if he was as protective as she said.
But without the cops or the feds, the two of them were on their own. And Jack had no idea what they were up against. All he knew was that he now had the assumed future president’s daughter’s life in his hands.
CHAPTER THREE
“SARAH, I DON’T UNDERSTAND.” Republican presidential hopeful Buckmaster Hamilton paced the floor, his phone to his ear, his impatience wearing a path in the carpet. “I love you. I thought you were moving into the main house on the ranch. No more hiding, no more lying about how we feel about each other.”
“Buck, can’t we talk about this when you get home?”
“No, four months ago you went to your house to pack and the next thing I know you tell me you can’t move in until after the primaries. Well, the primaries are over. I need you. I can’t keep—” He heard the door open behind him. “I have to go.” He disconnected and turned to face his campaign manager, who’d come in with a stack of papers, no doubt the latest polls.
“Sarah? Is that who you were talking to?” Jerrod Williston asked in an impatient tone. “Buck—”
“Don’t start,” he said, holding up both hands. “I’m trying to put my family back together. I know I’ve been a little distracted.”
“You’ve been more than a little distracted. On top of that, all the media wants to know now is how your love life is going instead of talking about your platform. You’re the Republican presidential candidate. If you hope to stand a chance in hell of winning this election, you have to start acting like a president instead of a lovesick fool.”
“Tell me how you really feel.” He waved a hand through the air, afraid Jerrod would only go off again. More and more he was having his doubts about this run for president. Was this his dream anymore? Or was he trying to do this for his father, JD Hamilton? JD had withdrawn from the race because of a woman. Wasn’t Jerrod’s fear that Buck would do the same thing?
He’d had so much trouble with his family since he’d thrown his hat into the ring last year. But last year there had been no chance of having Sarah. He was still married to Angelina. He had been ready to throw away everything he’d worked for and divorce Angelina before she’d been killed in a car wreck.
Buckmaster felt a wave of guilt. Angelina’s death had worked in his favor, but he hated like hell how it happened. Now the only thing keeping him and Sarah apart was this damned election. That was why Sarah was dragging her feet, wasn’t it? Unlike Angelina, she’d never wanted to live in the White House.
So he couldn’t help questioning if bowing out now wasn’t the best thing for them. He needed Sarah. Maybe if he quit he could pull his family back together again. Then his daughters might come around and get closer to their mother.
Sarah was disappointed that the girls never called her. Harper was making an effort, but Cassidy had barely said two words to any of them. Buck had no idea what was going on with his youngest. He hadn’t heard from her either.
“You’re tired. This campaign has been taxing. You’ve had a lot on your mind,” Jerrod said. “You just need some rest and then we’ll—”
“I need my wife, I need my family.”
Jerrod let out an impatient breath as if he’d heard this too many times. “Sarah isn’t your wife. A wedding right now is the last thing you need. Win this election, then you can throw yourself a wedding on the White House lawn with all your daughters as attendants.”
Buck raked a hand through his hair. He’d noticed this morning in the mirror that he was getting grayer. It was no wonder given what he’d gone through in the past year. If it hadn’t been his first wife, Sarah, it had been his second wife, Angelina, or one of his six daughters. He was trying to keep his family together and run for president. He’d always felt that he owed it to his party, to his country. But right now he felt as if he had nothing left to give.
Jerrod came over to the desk in the room and put down the stack of papers he’d been holding. “You’re doing well in the polls. You have this. Try to have a little patience. Even the voting public is on your side. So don’t do anything to screw it up. Sarah isn’t going anywhere.”
He wasn’t so sure about that, recalling how Sarah had been ready to marry Russell Murdock not that long ago. Murdock had almost run her over when she’d come stumbling out of the woods last year. Until that moment, she’d had no memory of the hours before—or the past twenty-two years. She knew only that she had jumped from a plane and parachuted into those Montanan woods. After landing in a tree, she’d managed to climb down and walk some distance to the dirt road where Murdock had almost hit her. He’d been her protector and probably still was. Buck didn’t blame Sarah for agreeing to marry the man. Russell was apparently nice enough and at the time, Buck had been married to Angelina.
With Angelina dead for almost a year now, there was no reason he and Sarah couldn’t be together. Even the media had taken it easy on him when he’d admitted to a woman on the plane—who’d turned out to be a reporter—that he was still in love with his first wife. He’d thought her dead for twenty-two years, so no one could blame him for remarrying. Angelina had supported his political ambition. She’d been determined to put him in the White House. But she hadn’t lived to see that happen.
Now there was nothing standing in the way of him and Sarah being together. Nothing but this damned election.
* * *
CASSIDY AND JACK found a small market only a half block from the bar and bought what they needed. They’d grabbed a cab outside the store. Fifteen blocks away, the driver let them out at a run-down hotel.
Jack had looked over at her, his expression pained. “We can look for some other place if this is—”
“It’s perfect,” she said, gazing out at the large brick building. Maybe it was the drinks she’d had, but she felt as if she was a character in a thriller movie. “No one will be looking for me here,” she said, thinking how true that was. The memory of the large man who’d grabbed her on the street seemed surreal now. It had happened so fast that it felt more like a nightmare she’d now awakened from. Had it really happened or had she dreamed it?
Wired on adrenaline and alcohol, she had leaped at the idea of a disguise. For so long she’d wanted to be someone different. Now she was getting her chance. It didn’t hurt that a handsome Texas cowboy was her sidekick.
Jack chuckled as they got out of the taxi. “I hope you don’t regret this.”
Her whole life she’d been protected and pampered. She hadn’t taken chances. Hadn’t experienced any crazy adventures because scandalized behavior would hurt her father.
But now someone had tried to kidnap her—because of who her father was no doubt. She felt as if all bets were off. Had her whole life been heading toward this moment? Or was she deluding herself because she didn’t want to face just how dangerous this still was?
Jack paid at the scarred desk and then led her to the old elevator. It cranked and groaned as it climbed to the fourth floor. The hallway they stepped out into needed paint and new carpeting badly. It had an odd smell, one she didn’t recognize and didn’t want to try to place.
Jack put the old-fashioned key into the lock, turned and pushed open the door to their room. Cassidy hadn’t been expecting much, which was good. The hotel room was dark, dingy and sad.
“You sure this is going to work for you?” Jack asked, looking somewhat taken aback by their surroundings.
She laughed. “See why I don’t tell anyone who my father is? They start treating me like I’m a princess. I’
ve roughed it camping out in the Crazy Mountains as a kid. I can take one bad hotel room.” She stepped in, going straight to the window. After she attempted to open it for what little fresh air there might be, Jack came up behind her and lifted it a few inches. Just the closeness of him sent a shiver of anticipation through her.
Cassidy wondered if he felt it as well and that’s why he quickly stepped away. Hot air rushed in but it smelled better.
Turning, she spotted the bags he’d brought up. Digging out the scissors and hair dye, she headed for the bathroom, leaving the door open.
“I saw a used clothing place around the corner,” Jack said from the other part of the hotel room. “I’ll go get you something else to wear.”
“Don’t you need to know my size?” she asked, turning in the bathroom doorway, scissors in hand.
He grinned as his gaze took her in. She felt warmth flood her. “I think I have it covered. Keep the door locked. I won’t be long.”
* * *
JACK HURRIED, not wanting to leave Cassidy alone for long. Inside the used-clothing shop, he quickly went to what he believed was her size and sorted through the clothes for something appropriate. Appropriate would be something totally different from what Cassidy had been wearing.
All the time, his mind was racing as to what to do next. They needed somewhere to hide her while he tried to figure out what to do. If his father was as deeply involved in this as he suspected... He had to know the truth. Short of asking him outright, he realized there was only one way he might be able to find out what was going on.
Now, he knew that his father had secrets. It was something he’d suspected, he realized, for a long while. When he’d worked at the warehouse, he’d discovered a locked drawer in his father’s desk. When he’d asked him about it, Tom Durand had said he just kept a little spare cash in it. He’d joked that he better never find it missing or he’d know who had taken it. Even at the time, Jack had questioned why his father would keep spare cash at the office. Tom Durand always carried a couple of grand on him.
Now Jack wanted to know what was really in that locked drawer. Which meant he’d have to go to the warehouse tonight. He knew he had to move quickly. If he was right and one of the men had recognized him, then his father would try to cover up any improprieties.
But what to do with Cassidy? He couldn’t leave her at the hotel. It didn’t feel safe with her alone. But where?
With several outfits he thought would work for her, he checked out and headed back to the hotel. Before he’d left, he’d put his gun under one of the pillows on the bed. He didn’t like walking around Houston with a loaded weapon even though he had a permit to carry it.
When he reached the hotel room, he used his key to open the door. He could hear her moving around in the bathroom and tried to relax. She was safe. At least for the moment.
He’d just placed the bag with his purchases on the bed when she came out of the bathroom. Her brunette hair was cut in a short bob that framed her face. The dark color brought out the tiny trail of freckles that arched over her nose and made her blue eyes look even larger. He stopped short at the sight of her.
“Is it that bad?” she asked in alarm.
He shook his head. “It’s that good. You look...amazing.”
She laughed, clearly relieved. “Isn’t it wild?” Rushing toward the bed, she said, “Let’s see what you got me to wear.” She held up the skirt and peasant blouse that went with it. “Oh, these are great. I can’t wait to try them on.” With that, she turned and hurried back into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.
He stared after her, surprised by her excitement—and a little worried. The woman was excited about wearing hand-me-down clothing that hadn’t even cost him twenty bucks? People reacted differently to fear, he knew, but Cassidy almost seemed to be treating this as if they were on some undercover adventure instead of probably running for their lives.
* * *
BUCK REALIZED HIS campaign manager was still speaking.
“What about your girls? Are they on board?”
He thought about his six daughters. He wouldn’t exactly say they were on board when it came to his political career. They’d grown up used to politics being discussed at meals, they’d lived through his run for senator and the subsequent years of his being gone to Washington.
But he knew that as supportive as they’d often said they were, none of them wanted this kind of attention. “You don’t have to worry about them.”
Jerrod eyed him as if reading between the lines. “We need them with you the night of the election. The public will want to see them—and the solidarity.”
The election was months away, Buck thought. A lot could happen between now and then.
“You have a big debate coming up,” Jerrod continued. “I need you to be on top of this. You can expect questions about Sarah and your relationship. Maybe you should go home and get some rest. We can do a run-through as the date approaches. I want you relaxed, confident and ready to be president. Make sure Sarah understands how important that is.”
He nodded, although he wasn’t sure telling Sarah would make a whole lot of difference. The woman who’d returned after being presumed dead for twenty-two years looked like the Sarah Johnson Hamilton he’d known, but she didn’t act like her. Maybe that Sarah was gone and he was a fool for thinking he could recapture the past and put his family back together. Sarah said she supported him, but if anything, she didn’t want to live in the White House. Nor was she here with him now or waiting for him in their house back on the ranch.
“I’ll be ready for the debate,” he said, picking up his Stetson. The best thing he could do now was to go back to Montana. He needed to find out what was going on with Sarah and see his daughters. He missed them and worried about them all the time even though they were settled into their own lives. Olivia and Bo were each now happily married. Olivia was talking about a second child, Bo was expecting twins, and Kat and Harper were engaged.
Only Ainsley, his oldest, was still single, and his youngest, Cassidy. In truth, he had no idea where either of them was at this moment. Ainsley had taken a job scouting locations in Montana for film companies after dropping out of law school. Cassidy, as far as he knew, was still in New York dating some Frenchman she’d met while in Europe.
After Jerrod dropped him off at the airport, Buckmaster put in a call to his youngest twin. He felt badly he hadn’t kept in touch. He’d spent so little time with them. He’d put his political career ahead of his family and was now doing it again.
When Angelina was alive, her driving ambition had been a tornado-like force that had kept him aloft. He’d gotten caught up in her dream of his being president. But Angelina was gone and he had a bad feeling that he should have dropped out before the primaries. Now he would hurt his party and possibly lose the election for the Republicans. He told himself he was just tired. Things would look different tomorrow. Unfortunately, he doubted that.
The call to Cassidy went directly to voice mail. “It’s your father. Please give me a call when you have time. I can’t remember the last time we talked.” He hung up realizing that she hadn’t been home in more than a year.
As he boarded the plane—unlike some candidates, he flew commercial since it was what Montana voters expected of him—he told himself he had to convince Sarah to come on the campaign trail with him. With her by his side, he believed he could do anything. But without her, without his family...
As soon as he landed in Bozeman, he called to tell Sarah he was on his way. He just had one thing he had to do first—make a call to the owner of a local jewelry store. The store had been closed for hours, but the owner promised to meet him there.
He had no idea what had happened to the first engagement ring—let alone wedding band—he’d given Sarah, but if he hoped for a new beginning, it was time to put a ring on he
r finger.
* * *
AS SARAH JOHNSON HAMILTON disconnected from Buck’s call, she turned to look at the man standing with his back to her. He was dressed in a dated brown suit and tie, which made him look like a second-rate undertaker. Hardly anyone wore suits in Montana unless they were getting married—or buried.
As if feeling her gaze on him, Dr. Ralph Venable turned to look at her. He was in his early seventies, but didn’t look his age. A tall, lean man with kind blue eyes, the doctor had unexpectedly shown up at her door back in the spring, something she’d kept secret from everyone.
“Was that Buck on the phone?” he asked now.
“He’s landed. We have time.” She’d been packing, planning to move in with Buck that night back in early spring, when the doctor had shown up at the old ranch house where she was still staying.
Seeing this man had frightened her, since, while she lived on Hamilton Ranch, she lived some distance from the main house—and everyone else, including her former husband and her six daughters.
“Who are you?” she’d demanded, telling herself that she didn’t know the older man who’d appeared at her door without warning. But he knew her. And bone-deep, she realized she did know him. His name was Dr. Ralph Venable and he was the man who had stolen twenty-two years of her memory. Dr. Venable specialized in brain wiping. Not only had he stolen her memories, he’d also planted false ones.
“You made me forget my life,” she had accused, moving quickly to the kitchen, where she’d grabbed a carving knife and brandished it as he’d followed her. “You stole twenty-two years from me.” Her voice had broken with emotion. “I missed seeing my babies grow up. Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you.”
“Because you need me.”
