by Lynde Lakes
The Latino pilot’s eye twitched. “Your ranch, señor.”
Webb nodded in agreement and thrust a brawny hand at Matt. It was sweaty and too smooth. “Heard you were hiring,” he said in an affable tone. “Paulo flew me down to look over your spread.”
Webb didn’t look like any ranch hand Matt had ever met. “My men usually come in by horse or truck. Planes are a little rich for hired hands.”
“Ain’t got a truck or a horse,” Webb replied with a little laugh and a shake of his head. “Paulo here owed me a favor, and I needed to get out of Mexico fast.”
Matt met Webb’s evasive look straight on. “Problems with the law?”
“Girlfriend’s old man. A big-shot diplomat in Mexico who thinks a cowpoke ain’t good enough for his little princess.”
“You’re not from Mexico?” Nothing about this guy rang true.
“Nah. Texas.”
Matt frowned. All Texans claimed two hometowns—the one they live in and San Antonio, the home of the Alamo and the heart and soul of Texas. This guy wasn’t claiming any particular place, and it just didn’t wash. Rarely did Texans say merely, “I’m from Texas.” With their zealous regionalism, the simple statement didn’t say enough. “That’s a lot of territory,” Matt said. “Wanna pin it down?”
“I’m a wanderer,” he replied a little too smoothly. “But mostly South Texas.”
South Texas included San Antonio and embraced the border area, and this guy’s accent didn’t fit. “Sorry about your scrape with your girlfriend’s father, but we aren’t hiring right now.”
Parker shifted into a wide stance and folded his arms. “Sure we are. Shoot, I already hired Webb. He knows his cattle, and I could use the help. Luke’s not worth spit.”
Matt frowned. “Luke does fine when you guys stay sober.” Parker had no authority to hire anyone, and he knew it. But Matt decided against jumping him in front of strangers.
“Señor,” the pilot said, “even if you do not hire Webb, we cannot leave until the mechanic comes in the morning. May we impose on your Texas hospitality for the night?”
Matt’s stomach knotted. “Of course.” Like it or not, with the ranch located miles from anywhere, he couldn’t send them away without a meal and a night’s rest. He turned to his brother. “Get your drinking buddies some grub and settle them in the bunkhouse. Then come up to the house alone. And we’ll talk.”
No matter what Parker wanted, Matt wasn’t about to hire a stranger without checking him out. Not with Molly’s and Sara Jane’s lives on the line.
Chapter Five
Matt’s and Parker’s raised voices from downstairs could easily be heard upstairs. Molly slammed down her hairbrush. If this didn’t stop, they were going to wake Sara Jane with shouts that grew angrier and louder by the minute. Barefoot and dressed in a nightgown and cotton robe, Molly raced downstairs to calm the men before they came to blows. One of the double doors of the study stood open. Molly pressed herself against it.
From inside, Parker’s words cut the air like a razor. “You always gotta play big boss and throw your weight around.”
“This isn’t about ego,” Matt’s said.
“The hell it ain’t! Dang your hide, Matt. I hired Webb, and he stays hired.”
“No.” The indisputable finality in Matt’s single word echoed around the high ceiling of the entryway.
Molly shivered. Whatever made her think she could calm these two bullheaded men? She’d better stay out of it. But she couldn’t leave. This was her chance to learn more about the complex man she was married to.
“Webb knows cattle, and we need a new hand,” Parker shouted. “There’s no cussed reason not to hire him, ’cept your damned pumped-up ego.”
“Like it or not, I do the hiring.”
He was talking lower now, and Molly strained to catch his words.
“I can’t have strangers here.”
“Why the hell not? We’ve hired total strangers before. Turned out to be good workers, too. So why the sudden change?”
Matt remained silent.
“You’re my brother, Matt,” Parker said. “Damn it, remember when we used to tell each other anything? If you’d just trust me once in a while…”
Molly wanted to scream, Don’t trust him, Matt.
She heard the thud of boots pacing. “You’ll keep it to yourself?” Matt asked.
Molly’s heart ached for the hope she heard in that low rumble of shaky faith.
“Never been one to blab,” Parker drawled.
Matt let out a gush of air. “Okay. Some men are after Molly and her baby.”
Molly froze. Her knees went all liquidy. Her baby was in danger, and Matt hadn’t told her! Sheer will and the need to hear more kept her from racing inside and confronting him.
“Who’s this Molly, anyway?” Parker’s slurred words dripped with venom. “She sure as spit ain’t your wife.”
Seconds ticked by. Why didn’t Matt tell his brother he was wrong? Waiting for Matt to deny Parker’s words was like seeing lightning on the horizon and listening for the thunder to boom. A small piece of Molly’s heart crumbled when she realized his denial would never come.
“Why are you puttin’ her before your own brother?” Parker asked. “You forgettin’ that blood’s thicker than water, little brother?” He stressed the word little, charging it with some sort of wounded significance.
Too much was going on beneath the surface for Molly to keep up. It was clear the clash of wills between the men wasn’t just about hiring a man. This dispute went far deeper than that. But she had her own turmoil. If Matt wasn’t the baby’s father who was? Was she married, or an unwed mother?
“Molly and her baby are in danger. You’re not,” Matt growled. “And I won’t risk their lives just to give you a new drinking buddy.” He paused. “You’d better keep your word. And go along with this without a fuss.”
Parker snickered. “Why should I? You’ve got everything, and I’ve got spit.”
“Damn it! Think of the baby.”
Bile rose in Molly’s throat—her baby was in danger. Fear clutched at her soul, but she had to hear it all.
“Think of my kids,” Parker said, “and the wife I lost because you robbed me of my inheritance.”
“Bev didn’t leave over the ranch. She left because you haven’t drawn a sober breath in five years, and you fool around with every little chippy you meet.”
“That’s my business. No snot-nosed, wet-behind-the-ears brother is gonna tell me how to live my life. Webb stays hired. If that’s a problem for the woman, get rid of her!”
Parker pivoted and dashed past Molly as though she were invisible. His boots pounded the ceramic tile floors with unmistakable fury.
She waited until the front door slammed with finality to step into the room. “How could you not tell me my baby is in danger?” Her voice cracked with pent-up tension.
“Molly!” Matt’s black brows arched, and the angry red color in his face drained to a stunned white. She fought an urge to slap him. He gripped the edge of his desk. “Sara Jane’s not in danger. I’d never let anything happen to her. I love her like my own.”
“Like your own!” The sincerity she’d heard in his tone didn’t ease the pain. She glared at him, her defiant green eyes clashing with his alarmed brown ones. “But she’s not yours, is she? And I’m not your wife.” The intriguing cowboy she’d begun to know and care for had disappeared, and this liar before her was more of a stranger than ever.
“Damn it, Molly, don’t push this.” He crossed the room, looking masculine to the core, and drew her into his arms, trapping her in their strength, their heat. A thick lock of raven-black hair tumbled across his forehead.
She put her hands against his chest. “I am pushing it. All the way.” She poked his sternum, punctuating her words. “And I don’t want to hear any more mumbo-jumbo about doctor’s orders.” Her voice shook, but she didn’t care. “I want to know everything. Now!”
“Damn P
arker’s big mouth.”
Molly struggled against Matt’s hold of steel. “This isn’t your brother’s fault. He’s right. Your ego is as big as Texas. You want to control everything. Well, you’re not controlling me, Matt Ryan. And the fact that you tried to control me might be the very reason why those men are here.”
Matt’s jaw muscle twitched. His eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, Molly?”
“No. You first. Enough lies. Tell me what’s going on, and it better be the truth.”
A trace of indecision darkened Matt’s eyes. “We could both regret this.” His hard-edged tone warned her that they were nearing a dangerous impasse.
In spite of her dread, she lifted her chin and said, “I’ll chance it. I have to know, Matt..”
He shifted his weight on scuffed black sealskin boots. “If we have to get into this, let’s take it to the kitchen.”
“Fine.” She whirled and took off ahead of him. He overtook her and flipped on the light. She squinted at the brightness. Shiny copper pans dangled on hooks near the stove. The air smelled of basil and jalapeño peppers. She paced while Matt stuck two cups of instant coffee in the microwave.
“Sit down,” Matt ordered. “You make me nervous.”
She scowled at him and continued to pace.
Matt slid steaming cups of coffee onto the table and sat down behind one.
Molly stopped pacing and tapped her foot. “I’m waiting.”
Matt took a gulp of coffee as if to brace himself. “A Dallas crime boss is after you because you’re the witness who can lock him up. Forever.”
Her knees went weak. “Crime boss?” She plunked into a straight-backed chair behind her coffee. Oh no. Her stupid call to Dallas may have led him right to them. She darted a look toward the nursery.
As though Matt knew what she was thinking, he said, “I stationed an armed man outside Sara Jane’s window. One of the vaqueros. No one will get by him. Ramon has eyes like a fox and can shoot the fleas off a dog.”
“Flea powder is a better way to go,” she said, trying to play it tough and hide her fear.
“Glad to see you haven’t lost your sense of humor.”
But she had. Nothing was funny anymore. “Since you’re not my husband, who is?”
“You’re not married.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive. I checked all the places you used to live, and for good measure all the states and Mexico.”
“Then I’m—” She paused and moistened her dry throat. “An unwed mother?” It was getting worse every minute. How would she find mental peace with herself with that lurking in her past? Her teary eyes searched his face. “Who is Sara Jane’s father?”
“It’s not in the file. Headquarters suspected it was a detective you slipped off to see several times. The men guarding you knew his name, but it didn’t get into the system.”
God, she didn’t expect to be a blushing virgin, but slipping off to see some nameless man didn’t feel like something she would do under the circumstances. When Matt finished giving her more details—including her real identity—she asked, “Katrina Molette Radlavich. What kind of name is that?” She’d grown rather fond of hearing Matt call her Molly.
“Maybe Polish, maybe Russian. You went by Katrina, but I called you Kat. You went through several names in the federal witness security program. Margaret Jones, Sally Smith. I switched to calling you Molly after the amnesia.”
Aghast, she stared at him. “About this amnesia…it’s temporary, right?”
“That’s what the doctor says.”
“And when I start remembering things, I’m going to remember that I was in a Witness Protection Program because a dangerous man wants me dead before I can testify against him, right?”
“Yes. You were—are—a reporter. You just got too close, and became a threat.”
“So who the hell are you?”
He swallowed, and she saw his throat muscles ripple. “I’m a federal agent assigned to keep you safe.”
Molly gripped her coffee cup tighter with both hands. “So we’re not married. So everything you told me about the way we met was a lie—the sensational green dress and all that?”
“The dress part was true.” His voice deepened. “You looked great in it.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet.” She felt an urge to slap him. “What were we doing at the party? It wasn’t just social, was it?”
“We were both after the same lead. You to get your story for the Dallas Morning News, and me to put the crime boss behind bars.”
“And we failed?”
“We succeeded in getting the lead. But it didn’t go quite like we hoped.”
“You’re the king of understatement, aren’t you?”
He stared at her with masked eyes. “Del Fuego is a powerful man. He’s dangerous and will stop at nothing. He believes he can buy or terrorize his way out of anything. While you were in the Witness Protection Program, your guards were killed and Sara Jane was kidnapped. I guess he figured you’d think twice about testifying if your child’s life was on the line.”
Her heart hammered against her ribs. Her beautiful, innocent little Sara Jane was upstairs asleep in the crib. “Who rescued my baby?”
He looked down at his big, work-worn hands. “I did.”
Sincere gratitude rushed through Molly and eased her anger a fraction. “Thank you.” She had trouble getting the words past the lump in her throat; they were so inadequate for the danger he must have faced. “How?”
“The details are unimportant.” His tight words suggested that the opposite was true. Something about the rescue had cost him a great deal, and he didn’t want to talk about it. Wouldn’t talk about it.
“You said I was a reporter.”
He nodded. “The best. But too damned daring for your own good.”
She could believe she was a reporter. She liked writing things down, liked looking for answers. Traces of memories flitted across her mind, fragmented images…Oh God, she’d seen a man killed! How could she have forgotten that? She clenched her hands into fists.
Matt took her hand and uncoiled it. She hated that his comforting touch was exactly what she needed, yearned for.
“When all this comes rushing back, it could be tough.”
She knew what was at stake. “I…I can handle it.”
“To heal, you’ll have to deal with what happened. And I’m here to help.” He paused and examined her face. “I’ve told you everything. Now it’s your turn. What did you do?”
Matt hadn’t mentioned anything about the coins she’d found in the toe of her slipper. Maybe they had nothing to do with all this. Or maybe he was still withholding information from her. She wanted to trust him, but…
“I found a phone number in my suitcase and called it.”
“Damn it, Molly. I knew it! That’s what you were doing in the barn this morning.”
Her face heated. “I hoped the voice on the other end of the line would trigger my memory. Instead, I think maybe the guy recognized mine.”
Matt opened and closed his fists, obviously fighting to rein in his anger. “Why did you chance that? Ever hear of caller ID and tracing devices?”
“It’s your fault. You kept things from me. I couldn’t stand not knowing who I was or what was going on.”
“And now that you know?” Warning rode his words.
She ignored it. “Do I have family? Maybe I could stay with them.”
“You have a mom and a sister, but you’d put everyone in danger if you saw them.”
“What about my dad?”
“A journalist, like you.”
An image flashed in Molly’s mind—a little redheaded girl and a woman with frizzy flame-red hair. Was the woman her mother? They were in a room with a chalkboard and desks. “You’re going to be a writer, like your dad,” the woman had said, handing her a sheaf of papers. Then, it hit Molly. The woman was her third-grade teacher, Mrs. Knight. Molly tried to bring forward an image of her father�
�s face. Nothing. “I want to see my dad. He’ll help me.”
“I’m sorry, Molly. He died five years ago. Cancer.”
“No!” Shock rolled over her like a giant wave. Tears pushed at the back of her eyes. Her dad died of a horrible disease, and she didn’t even remember? She took a deep breath to calm herself. For Sara Jane’s sake, she couldn’t lose control.
“I’m sorry,” he said again. He was watching her. “You remembered something a moment ago, didn’t you?”
“Nothing that would help.”
“Let me be the judge of that.”
She curled her fingers and dug her nails into her palms. “I remembered a teacher’s name, that’s all.” She paused and looked straight at him. “So, what’s your verdict, Judge Ryan? Helpful? Yes? No?”
His jaw muscle twitched again. “It’s a beginning.”
“I want to leave, Matt, and take Sara Jane some place safe. You have to help me.”
“My job is to keep you both safe. And right now this is the safest place I can think of.”
“Safe? Or just convenient for you? You can run your blasted ranch with a witness protection gig on the side!” When he didn’t deny it, Molly figured she’d hit close to the truth. “What about those men that showed up in the plane?”
“Good as gone.”
“And the others who might follow? Those dead agents thought they could protect my baby, too. But they couldn’t even protect themselves.” She slicked her damp palms down the lap of her robe.
He watched her as though measuring her fear. “We’re isolated here. No one can come within miles of us without being seen. And I have guns and an army of men—”
“Your brother brought the Trojan Horse right into the camp.”
“That won’t happen again.” His words rumbled out in a soft drawl.
“Won’t it? You play your control game with everyone else, but I don’t think you have any control over your brothers. The sooner you admit it, the sooner they just might take responsibility for their own actions.”
Matt’s eyes darkened, but his voice remained low and composed, like the calm before a storm. “This isn’t about my brothers, Molly.”
