by Joanna Wayne
Eve lay back on the blanket, the back of her head cradled in her hands, her eyes feasting on Sean. He was as hot a guy as she’d ever seen, but he was far more than the sum of his physical attributes.
“How is it you know so much about kids?” she asked.
“I used to be one. Besides, if you’re talking about the mud thing, guys of every age like riding horses and getting dirty.”
“You’d make a great father. Why is it you never married?”
“Long-term relationships lead to complications.”
“And you like your life simple?”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
“Marriage works for some people. Look how happy Dylan and Collette are.”
“Is this a proposal?” he teased.
“I was just making a point,” she said, turning away so that he couldn’t see the blush that was burning her cheeks. “And you didn’t answer my question.”
“I guess I just like doing things I’m good at.”
Right now, Eve couldn’t imagine anything Sean wouldn’t be good at.
He finished his taco, set his plate aside and leaned back, propping himself up with an elbow. She looked into his dark, piercing eyes and her thoughts strayed into dangerous, erotic territory.
Wrong place. Wrong time. How could she feel even the slightest surge of passion after news of last night’s murder? Yet her mouth ached to feel his lips on hers again.
Perhaps the latest research studies had been correct. Danger was a powerful aphrodisiac.
Her cell phone rang, destroying the moment. She checked her phone. “It’s Gordon Epps.”
“Probably just wants to make certain you heard the morning news.”
Minutes later, any lingering feelings of desire vanished down the dreaded rabbit hole of more bad news. She was sitting up straight now, her resolve to remain calm pushed to the limits.
“Gordon heard from Detective Reagan Conner again,” she whispered so Joey wouldn’t hear. “This time he said it’s urgent that I contact him. It’s a matter of life and death.”
Sean took her hand in his. “Anything to do with Orson Bastion is a matter of life and death.”
ONCE THEY ARRIVED BACK at the house, the tension quickly swelled to volatile proportions. Fortunately, Collette was there visiting with Troy and she lured Joey to the protected courtyard garden on the pretense of needing his help in hanging some Christmas lights.
Eve insisted that Troy join them in the kitchen for the heated discussion.
“Homicide detective or not, he’s still just a cop in my book,” Sean protested. “If you let him know where you are, there’s no guarantee that information won’t get leaked to the press.”
Eve absently straightened the edge of the tablecloth with her fingers. “The press knows nothing about my connection with Orson Bastion.”
“You can’t count on that,” Troy said, backing Sean. “Orson is the lead story on every local news channel. Reporters are digging into everything they can find about his life. I’ll be surprised if my run-in with him doesn’t make the news.”
“All the more reason I need to contact him,” she said. “Just not from the ranch. We’ll have to call from somewhere outside the Mustang Run area, just in case he’s able to track the call.”
“He’ll track the call,” Troy said. “Count on it. That’s why he gave Gordon a specific line for you to use when calling him.”
“Cop or not, I don’t think you should let Detective Conner know where you are,” Sean insisted.
Eve stood and paced the floor.
Troy worried the scar at his temple. “Why not call your brother, Wyatt, Sean? He’ll have suggestions for how this should be handled.”
Eve tried to remember what Troy might have told her about Wyatt. She drew a blank. The stress was getting to her.
“Wyatt’s a homicide detective in Atlanta,” Sean explained. “One of the best. And Troy’s right. Wyatt will know how to handle this.”
Eve wondered how Troy felt about Sean never calling him Dad. She shot him a look. If it bothered him, he gave no sign.
“I don’t know why I didn’t think of Wyatt first,” Sean continued. “I’m betting he has access to an untraceable line, and he doesn’t have to use the Ledger name.”
“You can trust Wyatt,” Troy assured Eve. “He won’t do anything to give away your location. He definitely came through for Dylan when Collette was in danger.”
“Then let’s call him,” Eve conceded.
She tapped her fingers against the wooden tabletop as Sean made the call. The easy phone camaraderie matched what Sean shared with Dylan. Troy was the odd man out. Her heart went out to him. Surely, given time, Sean would see that his father could never have killed his beloved Helene.
If not, they’d both be the loser.
WYATT ANSWERED ON the third ring. “If you’re calling with trouble, hang up.”
“That kind of day?” Sean asked.
“You know it. I’m thinking of chasing a job wrestling alligators. It would have to be easier. How’s Troy?”
“Improving every day. But I need a favor.”
“Sorry,” Wyatt said. “I won’t come down and rescue you from family life. You’re on your own.”
“This has to do with a woman.”
“Even worse.”
Sean gave Wyatt the scoop in as few words as possible.
Wyatt responded with a couple of well-chosen curse words. “First Dylan, now you. Are there any women in Texas who don’t need protecting?”
“Probably, but I’m just concerned with the one now,” Sean said. “Is there any way you can make that call to Reagan Conner without the Ledger name coming into play?”
“I can do better than that. I can connect Eve to him through a line that it will be impossible for him to trace or track the location of.”
“The wonders of modern technology,” Sean said.
“Yeah. Too bad the criminals can afford it before we get it. Give me the number Conner said to use. I’ll get him on the phone and then give you a call back at this number.”
By the time Sean had explained the plan to Eve, the call came through. Sean took her hand and squeezed it. “Remember, I’m right here, and no matter what Conner says, I have your back.”
Eve took the phone and identified herself to the detective.
“I’m glad you called, Mrs. Worthington. I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for several days. I’ve left countless messages on your phone.”
“I’m out of town.”
“I assumed that, but the department is concerned for your safety.”
“The department didn’t sound all that concerned when I contacted them the day after Orson Bastion escaped.”
“I’m sorry for that misunderstanding, but under the present circumstances, I assure you that I’m prepared to offer you protection twenty-four seven, if you return to Dallas. I’ll even send an escort to pick you up and drive you back here.”
It didn’t add up, Eve thought. Conner seemed too eager to help. “I appreciate your offer, but I prefer to take my chances on my own.”
“That’s not smart, Mrs. Worthington. Not for you or your son. I would have preferred not to frighten you with this, but you leave me no choice.”
“No choice in what?” she asked, growing even more nervous.
“We have credible evidence that suggests that Orson Bastion may be planning to kill you.”
Her stomach roiled. “What kind of evidence?”
“I can’t reveal that, but like I said, it’s from a credible source. I think you’re in real danger. That’s why we’re willing to make certain you’re protected if you return home.”
“And suppose you can’t?”
“We can do a better job than anyone you can hire for that purpose. And if you’re working on the assumption that Bastion won’t hunt you down wherever you are, you’re putting yourself and everyone around you at extreme risk.”
Everyone around her. Like Troy an
d Sean. She knew both of them would take on Bastion to save her and Joey, but at what cost?
“I’ll consider your offer,” she said.
“Think too long and Bastion may take it out of your hands.”
Once the connection was broken, she filled Troy and Sean in on the details of the conversation. Sean became increasingly agitated.
Finally, he slammed his right fist against the table. “The detective isn’t worried about you, Eve. He just wants you back in Dallas to use you for bait. He’ll have his men there twenty-four seven all right, but they’ll be there to arrest Bastion when he shows up to kill you.”
Which might be the only way to stop him, she realized. But there was a major drawback. “I can’t risk exposing Joey to the danger or to the sight of violence.”
“It’s too risky for both of you,” Sean said. “You’re in the safest place you can be. And that’s settled.”
“It’s my decision,” she said, not sure why she was angry with him, except that he was taking over and that her emotions were so raw she was suddenly fighting back tears.
“Do you want to leave and go back to Dallas?” Troy asked.
“It’s not a matter of what I want. If I stay, I’m dragging all of you into danger. I’ve known that all along, but hearing it from the detective makes it even more imperative that I leave the ranch.”
“I don’t take Bastion or his threat to kill you lightly, Eve.” Troy propped his elbows on the table and waited until she met his gaze. “But I’m not afraid of him, either. You’re not only welcome to stay here until he’s apprehended, your being here would save me a lot of worry.”
“I appreciate that.”
Sean rolled his eyes, as if it irritated him that his father had played the situation a lot cooler than he had. He pushed back from the table. “So, are you staying here or running back to Dallas?”
She shook her head. “I need time to think.”
Sean’s phone rang again, no doubt Wyatt calling to check out the status. She slipped out of the room. She’d heard enough. Now she just wanted to see her son. He had to be protected at all costs, and she could not afford a mistake.
No matter what Troy, Wyatt, or even Sean thought, in the end, her son’s safety was her responsibility. But if she could protect him and help in Bastion’s apprehension, it would be a win-win for everyone.
“HOW ABOUT PASSING THOSE pork chops?”
“This sweet potato casserole is the best I’ve ever tasted.”
“Glad you requested macaroni and cheese, Joey. I don’t remember when I’ve had that last.”
“Eve gets credit for that.”
“And I did it without a box,” Eve said.
Collette had invited them all for dinner, and conversation flowed like it might on any ordinary night. For Sean, though, it was anything but. Tension churned inside him. He hadn’t spoken directly to Eve since the afternoon’s phone call to Detective Conner. He couldn’t even think straight, what with her considering going back to Dallas and marching right into the hands of a madman.
Wyatt had agreed with him that Eve was being set up as bait. He’d stressed that that didn’t mean she wouldn’t be protected. But setting a trap for Bastion would still put Eve’s life on the line. Plans could be fouled, and even the best of cops made mistakes.
Sean could not let her go back to Dallas until Bastion was behind bars. Only, if she made up her mind to go back, how in the devil was he supposed to stop her? Kidnap her himself?
Maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea.
He studied her across the table while she ate. Unlike him, she was engaging in conversation with the others, even smiling at times. But the dark circles around her eyes, the strain to her facial muscles, and even the stoop of her shoulders revealed that the growing threat of danger was weighing on her.
And still, he ached to just carry her off somewhere and…
And what? Finish what he’d started last night? Kiss her senseless? Make love to her?
All of the above, he silently admitted.
He was falling for Eve. Hard. Under normal circumstances, those feelings would likely have him running for his life. Who was he kidding? He had nothing to compare this to. He’d never felt like this about another woman. And that included the two he’d thought himself in love with.
Desire rode him hard and he looked away, determined to focus on the conversation and make it through this meal.
“How was that trail ride this morning?” Dylan asked.
“Awesome.” Joey moved the casserole around with his fork. “But riding the horse with Sean was the best fun. And wearing my new boots. I got them real muddy, but Sean showed me how to clean them up.”
And if Sean’s agonizing over Eve wasn’t enough to deal with, he had Joey to think about. Joey had lost his father. Losing his mother to a psycho killer would destroy him. Who knew that better than Sean?
Yet, here he was sitting at the same table with Troy Ledger. Troy wasn’t the man Sean remembered running to as a kid. He wasn’t the man who’d taught him to ride, played ball with him and his brothers on Sunday afternoons, let him jump from his shoulders at the swimming hole. He wasn’t the man who’d stood beside him and told him it was okay to cry when his dog died from a rattlesnake bite.
Troy was older, hardened, and the easy laugh that Sean remembered never came.
But was he the man that Sean had heard about time after time over the last seventeen years? Was he a heartless, brutal killer who’d killed Sean’s mother rather than let her escape the marriage?
Dylan was convinced that Troy was innocent. Sean might reach that same conclusion one day; but until he did, he couldn’t just act as if the stranger at the table mattered in his life.
The truth was, he couldn’t deal with Troy, Eve or family now. “Dinner was great,” he said, “but if you guys will excuse me, I have a few things I need to take care of back at the house.”
But before the night was over, he’d have to speak privately with Eve and talk some sense into her before it was too late.
“TAKE ALL THE MAGAZINES you want,” Collette urged. “I think there’s even a few Hollywood gossip sheets in the mix, in case you want to know who’s sleeping with whose ex.”
“And lots of books on photography, I see,” Eve said, picking one up and thumbing through it.
They were back in Collette’s bedroom, looking for some fluff reading material. All Troy had at the house were ranching periodicals, and articles on winter feed for beef cattle read like a foreign language.
Not that she expected to really get her mind around any article tonight.
“Do you take a lot of pictures?”
“Constantly,” Collette said. “That’s what I did for a living before I met Dylan. I kept my studio in town, but I mostly concentrate on creative imagery now, instead of weddings and parties. I still do family and personal photographs on occasion.”
“Then you still work?”
“Yes, but mostly from the ranch. It makes a great natural setting for family photos. In fact, I have several appointments scheduled next week. Christmas brings out the need to preserve memories for posterity.”
“I can’t believe we’re already in December.”
“And the next few weeks will fly by. I just sprang for adorable Mr. and Mrs. Santa suits. You’d be surprised how many folks love the quirky for their Christmas card shots. You should dress up in one and let me take your picture with Joey, not that you’d even be recognizable in the wig and padding that go with it. Hey, we might even get Sean to pose in the Santa suit, as long he could wear his boots and cowboy hat.”
“If we drugged him and tied him down first.” Eve laughed in spite of the anxiety that never let up. But she was in no mood for Christmas photos. Orson and peace on earth, goodwill to men were not compatible. “How much do you know about my situation?” she asked.
“Everything Sean has told Dylan,” Collette said. “My husband and I don’t keep secrets from each other. Orson Bastion
sounds beyond evil. I hope they capture him soon.”
“So do I, but in the meantime, are you sure that you and Dylan are okay with me bringing my problems to your doorstep?”
“Absolutely. I brought mine here before you did. Dylan was a lifesaver in the most literal sense of the word. When things settle down for you, I’ll share the gritty details. For now, just know you’re in good hands with the Ledger men.”
“But it was different for you and Dylan. You were in love. Sean barely knows me.”
Collette dropped to the floor beside Eve and the basket of magazines. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed that Sean looks at you like you’re a bowl of whipped cream that he’s dying to dive into?”
A slow burn crept to Eve’s cheeks. She hadn’t noticed the way Sean looked at her, but if Collette had, then she’d surely noticed the way Sean affected her. Memories of last night’s kiss vibrated through her.
It was positively insane for her to experience this kind of desire with all she had to face.
She picked up another magazine, only to find herself staring at a picture of the Ledger ranch house plastered across the cover.
Beyond the Grave
“Oops, forgot that one was in there,” Collette said. “Ignore it. It’s all hype and hyperbole anyway. And not good bedtime reading for you right now.”
But Eve couldn’t bring herself to return Beyond the Grave to the stack. She thumbed through it until she found the cover page story.
The opening lines made the hairs on the back of Eve’s neck stand on end.
“Does the ghost of the wife of Troy Ledger still inhabit the house where she was brutally murdered? Does she still walk halls at night, looking for her sons so that she can tuck them into their beds? Or is she there waiting on her killer to return?”
“Who wrote this?” Eve said. “And why?”
“It’s nothing,” Collette said. “Really. Pay the article no mind. The editors of the publication are friends of mine. Sounds weird, I know, but they’re great gals who just happen to believe in the paranormal and in making a living from it.”
“Did you take the pictures?”
