by Angi Morgan
John saw the moment of decision. A microsecond where he knew Weber was tired of the game and would pull the trigger. He raised the snub-nose, pushed Alicia backward off the tack box and fell sideways on top of her.
As he fell, he heard Weber’s gun fire and saw the kickback in his forearm. Slow motion had nothing on waiting to find out where the bullet would hit. Low. Wood splintered. Weber stepped toward the stables for another shot at them both. John fired when he stepped into his sights.
The bullet caught Weber in the shoulder. His weapon fell to the ground as he dropped to his knees. But Weber didn’t stop. He reached for the gun, raising it toward his head.
John pictured sitting on the stand, testifying, putting this deranged man behind bars and letting justice decide his punishment. “You’re not getting off—” John fired “—that easy.”
The weapon dropped to the ground a second time. A twice-shot, but very much alive, Weber fell the opposite direction.
“Is it over?” Alicia asked from under him.
“Sorry, honey.” He crawled off her and returned to the tack box, helping her join him.
Brian ran around the corner, breathing hard.
“Where have you been?” John asked his brother.
Sheriff Coleman trotted behind him, didn’t stop at the corner and kept trotting his large frame to Weber. He clicked the microphone on his shoulder. “He’s alive. Where’s that ambulance?”
“He’d better be alive. My team would have my marksmanship ribbon if I’d killed him without trying.”
“He killed Tory Strayhorn and orchestrated Lauren’s kidnapping,” Alicia said. “He may have killed Roy. Shauna’s just as guilty and wanted to kill us. She knew what was going on, Ralph. Everything. And—” she turned back to Brian, finally drawing a breath “—where’s Lauren? When can I see her?”
“Whoa, slow down, Alicia. It’s okay,” Brian assured her. “Dev’s on his way to the ranch. He’ll be there before us.”
“Thank goodness. But the police don’t know what they did. Who do we need to explain things to? Can I see Lauren before they ask for our statements?”
“I have a feeling the police already know. Otherwise they’d be arresting us.” Lauren was safe and John wanted Alicia alone. Now. Before they were required to give statements or explain why they’d avoided the police.
“Shauna and Gargantuan are claiming their innocence. Shouting that it was all Weber’s idea from the start. Including Roy’s supposed suicide.” Brian gave him a sign that they should escape while they could. “Maybe you two should cut out before they realize they need to talk to you. I think there’s a little girl at home that’s missing her mommy.”
“Yes, please? Will it be okay to leave?”
“I’ll tell Ralph to come by after dinner. Looks like they have their hands full right now anyway.” Brian stuck out his hand to bring John to his feet, pulling him into a quick bear hug.
It was a step toward reconciliation that John needed. But there was something else he had to find out first.
He swung Alicia into his arms again, remembering she couldn’t walk. He preferred that she didn’t walk, liking her just where she was. “Do you need a medic to look at your ankle?”
“It’s just bruised and will be sore. I can walk.”
“Not a chance. Still got that earbud?”
“Yes. It took you long enough to realize. Brian kept telling me to stall and then he’d shout at people or tell me not to be an idiot and tick Patrick off.”
“Do me a favor.”
“Anything.” She snuggled closer and kissed his voice box with whisper-soft kisses.
“Hand the earpiece to Brian. Dev’s going to have my hide for losing one. I have no idea what he’d do if I lost two.”
“But I haven’t lost mine.”
Brian walked forward and took it from her anyway.
“No tellin’ where it’s going to end up in just a little while.”
“Where are you taking me?” she asked sweetly, holding tighter to his neck.
“Does it matter?”
She smiled as an answer. She didn’t make an excuse or try to convince him to stay for the sheriff or police. There was a car in the parking lot. He’d told her he loved her; now it was time to find out if that was enough.
“You may be ready...or not, Alicia. But here I come.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Why, Johnny Sloane, are you trying to get me into the backseat of your car? Bringing me out to the middle of nowhere didn’t even work in high school. I’m flattered, but I’d really like to see my little girl.”
Alicia joked, but she had no idea where they were going. The air-conditioning felt wonderful on full blast, so they weren’t melting in the heat.
“I only need a couple of minutes alone with you. Just a couple. Promise,” he said, nibbling at her fingertips laced through his strong hand. “I don’t think either of us will fit back there as comfortably as we did when we were teenagers.”
He turned toward the ranch, but he’d given her the impression they weren’t headed straight home. Maybe he’d changed his mind and was taking her to Lauren after all.
“I am ready. I was wrong last night, or this morning, whatever time it was out in the field.”
He kissed the back of her hand. “I know.”
“Where are we going?”
“There’s something I need to do here.”
“But this is...” The fire.
“Yeah, it’s Mrs. Cook’s place.”
“Why do you need to come to where the fire happened?”
“Closure. Coming full circle. It just seems appropriate.”
He stopped in the field where they’d parked as teens. The old barn had burned to the ground back then. Any remnants had been cleared away. But there was a familiar tree and stone wall that he led her to.
The last place they’d argued. He offered to pick her up, but she wanted to walk, to give herself time to think. She’d listened back then, wishing he’d just be satisfied to stay in Texas.
John lifted her to the top of the ancient rock wall. Most of it had broken away and lay at their feet. They could still sit like they had when he’d spoken about seeing all the faraway countries...about leaving.
“Twelve years ago, I left without a real goodbye. I thought we’d broken up and didn’t really see any sense trying to apologize. I admit to being cocky and that the idea of having a girlfriend back home wasn’t my first priority. Dang it, I was eighteen.” He laughed at his embarrassment. “I didn’t think I was coming back to Aubrey. For some reason, I never thought you’d leave.”
“It’s okay, I—”
“It’s my turn, Alicia.” He swallowed hard but didn’t look away.
Whatever he had to say, it was important. Lauren was safe and John mattered to her. So she could hear him out before they went home.
“I was a hurt kid back then. I’m sorry. I’ve been around the world and back again, hon. And I know it’ll seem odd, but I’m ready to come home. You can take as long as you need to ‘get ready.’ I’ll be here when you are. I love you. I always have.”
“My turn?”
He laughed and nodded, not releasing her hands.
“I sort of expected something like this when we pulled up. I mean, you said that you loved me back at the auction. Your actions, though—putting everything on the line for Lauren and me like you have... Well, you’ve shown me that you love me many times over in the past couple of days.”
“I’m glad I was doing something right.”
“I didn’t want to feel like this. But not for the reasons you think. I kept thinking it would be disloyal to my marriage. Then Brian said he’d known his best friend and that Dwayne would be glad we were together. He’s right. Dwayne
would want me to be happy. He’d want us all to be happy. I am so ready to love you, John.”
He tugged her to her feet and kissed her. The moment his lips touched hers, guilt-free desire took over. No more anxiety and no more questions. Being with him was her future. She was certain of it.
“Are you staying around here for a while?” If he wasn’t, she had every intention of staying wherever he was stationed. “You don’t have to give up your career in the navy, unless that’s what you really want.”
“I’m home for good. We should head back. You need to introduce me to Lauren.”
“She’s going to love having a dad.”
* * *
HOME. IT WAS full, cramped, and John loved it. The house smelled like fried chicken, white gravy and peanut-butter cookies—his mom’s recipe. Mabel had started cooking chicken nuggets as soon as Dev had pulled in the driveway with Lauren. Now the little girl, soon to be his daughter, was asleep in his arms and still had a chocolate-milk mustache.
She was a resilient kid and had voluntarily crawled into his lap. It might help that he looked exactly like Brian, who she’d known all her life, but today, he’d accept all the trust and love she shared.
“You’re lucky I’m not fighting you to hold my darling girl.” Alicia kissed Lauren’s forehead and then John’s as she perched next to him on the chair.
“I thought I’d give you a break.” He leaned his head back and was rewarded with a long kiss. Something he’d never tire of. He lowered his voice so only Alicia could hear. “Brian spoke to me while you were bathing Lauren. He’s determined to find out who framed us and really set the fire.”
“It was such a long time ago. Does it even matter anymore?”
“It does to him. He said he needs to clear our name, but it’s more than that. I don’t know what. I tried to convince him it didn’t matter. There’s time to sort it out later.”
Alicia laced her fingers with his. “I can understand, but it seems futile. Maybe he’ll feel different when things settle down.”
“You two can stop your smooching, now. Right, Dad?” Brian lowered his voice as soon as he noticed Lauren. He set his cell on the coffee table before sitting in the only other chair in the living room. “This thing’s been ringing nonstop. I didn’t know anyone had my number. The sheriff said Patrick ranted about his ruined plans all the way to the hospital. It appears he was leaving for Mexico so he could kill Shauna, too. Now they’re all headed for prison.”
“Did I hear you talking about the mare earlier?”
“Yeah, with Dusty Phillips. You’d think he’d give us a couple of days before attempting to finalize the deal on the mare I’ve been trying to sell to him for weeks.”
His dad tapped where his watch should have been. Seems he’d made a lot of improvements in the past two days.
“Why now?” Brian said aloud for him. “No auction of the Adamses’ stock, for one. National championships for Carla. If she’s riding again this year, she needs a new horse.”
“Do you want to sell her, Brian?” Alicia asked from the arm of John’s chair.
“No question of want. We have to sell her or lose this place.”
“As soon as—”
“We aren’t taking your money, Alicia,” Brian said firmly, and his dad nodded.
Thank God J.W. was going to recover. He wanted the relationship with his father that Brian took for granted. He also wanted to restore the relationship with his brother. “How about mine?”
“We need a lot more than you’ve got in the bank.”
Dev laughed from the kitchen, where he’d been helping Mabel with KP duty.
“There’s ten grand in my room. How much do you need?”
“Where did you get so much cash?”
“He’s really good at poker,” Dev answered for him. “He also has no life. No rent. No real car. No women.”
“I like my truck.”
“Chicks hate it.”
“That’s true. But I figure I’ve got enough to get this place back on its feet, hire a couple of hands. Give Dad time to recover and give you a much deserved vacation.”
“Johnny, I do believe you’ve shocked your brother into silence.” Mabel dried her hands on her ever-present apron. “With that, you should all go find a place to sleep. Key to my house is under the third flowerpot on the back porch. I’m staying here in case your dad needs something.”
His dad’s expression was different than it had been three days ago. There was no panic in his eyes, just acceptance.
“I’m driving back to my cabin and inventorying my gear. If one cable is missing, I’m tracking it down.” Dev held a finger in the air for emphasis, but destroyed his tough demand with a grin.
“I have a nice comfy bed in the other room. That means you guys can have Mabel’s guest room all to yourselves.” Brian laughed. “Good luck with your new family, bro.”
“No luck needed when love’s involved,” John told him.
Alicia kissed his lips, stroked Lauren’s cheek with a tender finger and rested her head on the top of his. “Piece of cake.”
* * * * *
The TEXAS FAMILY RECKONING miniseries
continues next month.
Look for THE RENEGADE RANCHER
by Angi Morgan
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Chapter One
The monster sat across the breakfast table from Caroline, looking deceptively handsome in a dove-gray, thousand-dollar suit that emphasized his broad shoulders and the bulging muscles in his upper arms. The tanned hand that flicked the page on his electronic tablet was elegant, strong, with perfectly groomed nails.
They should have been talons.
Talons would have warned people who didn’t know Richard Ashton III that those hands were lethal, especially when they were clasped into fists.
He skimmed through the latest stock-market figures, then looked pointedly at the untouched food on Caroline’s plate.
In spite of the worry that had kept her awake most of the night, the worry that had nausea churning in her stomach this morning, she picked up her fork and took a bite of egg the cook had prepared exactly to Richard’s specifications. She dabbed her napkin on the corners of her mouth as he’d taught her, before training her face into the carefully blank expression she’d learned was the safest.
His brows lowered. “You’re getting too thin, Caroline. That displeases me.”
She stilled, her fingers curling against her thigh.
“I—I—I’m sorry, Richard.”
Calm down. He hates it when you stutter.
She fought back the fear that so often jumbled her words. “I’ll eat everything on my plate. I promise.” She took another bite of egg.
Tiny lines of disapproval tightened around his eyes.
Her stomach twisted. What had she done? She raced through a mental checklist. Her hair was neat and curled to drape over one shoulder in the style he preferred. She’d painstakingly applied the makeup he’d selected for her, natural looking but polished. She held her
napkin in her left hand in her lap, her fork in her right, no elbows on the table. What had she missed?
“Don’t look so alarmed,” he chided her. He cocked his head, his eyes narrowing. “Or have you done something that requires further instruction?”
“No, no, no, I’ve been good. I don’t...n-need another l-lesson.”
Stop it. Calm down.
“Don’t stutter, Caroline. It’s unbecoming of an Ashton to stutter. Tell me, why aren’t you eating enough?”
Her hands went clammy with sweat and shook so badly she almost dropped her fork. Desperation had her scooping another forkful of eggs into her mouth. As she chewed, she smiled across the table at him, trying to placate him.
He shook his head. “You’re being rude. I asked you a question, and now your mouth is full. You’re making me wait for an answer.”
Stupid, stupid, stupid. She should have answered him first and then taken a bite. She swallowed hard, forcing the lump of eggs down her tight throat without taking the time to chew.
“I’m so sorry,” she rushed to assure him. “I didn’t mean to be rude. I w-wanted you to be proud that I was obeying, that I was eating.” She wiped her moist hands on her pants.
“I’m still waiting for an answer.”
She blinked. What was the question? What was it? She couldn’t remember. He’d said something about her being too thin, and then he’d said—
“I asked why you aren’t eating enough.” His voice was clipped, harsh.
“I’m s-sorry. I guess I’m just...tired. Not hungry.”
One of his elegant brows arched. “And why, exactly, are you tired?”
She grasped for an excuse, anything but the truth—that she’d lain awake most of the night, going over her plans, trying to build her courage.
“I—I don’t know. Perhaps I worked too hard in the garden yesterday. I am a bit sore.”
The slight reddening of his face had the blood draining from hers, leaving her cold and full of dread. He would take her comment about being sore as an accusation against him, a complaint. Because, as he frequently reminded her, it was always her fault when he was forced to teach her a lesson, her fault he had to punish her.
