by Lynde Lakes
She’d hit him where it hurt, and although an instant later she regretted it, she was too angry to admit it. “No, it’s about my baby and me. And I say we go.”
Matt leapt out of the chair and paced, moving with the predatory edginess of a coyote. “Running without a plan is like calling a number with no idea who you’re calling.”
Molly winced. She folded her arms, fighting tremors. “I’m not staying here like a sitting duck.”
“Give me until morning to handle things here.”
His tone was firm, but she sensed his resolve was weakening. “I want us to decide everything together from now on,” she said. “I won’t be some pawn that you and the FBI move around at will.”
Matt muttered something unintelligible. With his back to her, he braced himself on his muscular arms on the kitchen counter. He rolled his head around as if to loosen the tight tendons, flexed his wide shoulders, and leaned forward over the sink to stare out the window. What did he see out there in the darkness?
After an eternity of silence, he turned and said, “Here’s the deal. Tell me all your memories, and I’ll run things by you before I act on them.”
“Why are you so hung up on my memories? With the mess we’re in now, they’re not important.”
“Wrong. They’re important to a lot of people, Molly.” He held her gaze. “You’re the only one who can testify against a man who has destroyed many lives and who, if he goes free, will destroy even more.”
“That’s the FBI agent talking now. Did you make love to me just to get me to testify?”
Her stomach knotted at the thought. She felt this powerful attraction between them, and he’d said he loved her. But how could she trust anything he said now?
He flinched as if she’d slapped him. “How could you ask that?”
“Because, damn it, I don’t remember any of it.” Although her voice broke, she swallowed and kept going. “This is my past we’re talking about, my life, and from now on, I’m asking all the hard questions. And you’d better answer them.”
He stared at her for a moment, then folded his arms. “Ask away.”
She frowned at his closed posture but refused to let it stop her. “Do you and I…do we…I mean, have we ever…”
“Been in love?” he supplied with a calm that amazed her.
She swallowed past the lump in her throat and nodded.
“Yes,” he said, looking cornered.
“What happened?” Her question came out small and quiet, and she was almost afraid of the answer.
He shrugged. “We broke up.”
“Why?”
“I couldn’t go into the Witness Protection Program with you.”
“Why not?”
He shifted his weight. “Your safety, my job.”
Her heartbeat quickened. “Such control. You just walked away without a backward glance.”
He pushed away from the counter, kneeled in front of her, and tried to take her hands. She moved them out of his reach. “It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done,” he said. His husky rumble was full of regret.
She closed her eyes against a jagged stab of pain, and then looked at him head-on. “But you did it, damn it.” In spite of her anger and breaking heart, Molly kept her words soft. “Why this wife fantasy story?”
“To protect you and Sara Jane. An extra woman and baby on the ranch wouldn’t be noticed if they were my wife and child. And I needed you to buy it.”
“I see. You thought it would be easier to control a wife than a jilted ex-girlfriend.”
“Hey, I’m on your side.”
“You have a crummy way of showing it,” she snapped, fighting numbing hurt and resentment.
“Work with me, Molly. I’ve messed things up royally, but you haven’t exactly helped the situation.”
“What did you expect? I lost my memory, not my mind.”
“Having amnesia puts you at a dangerous disadvantage. You have to trust me. When Del Fuego is behind bars and this is all over, you can walk away. If that’s what you want.”
That was part of the problem. She didn’t want to walk away. For a little while by the creek when he’d kissed her, she’d begun to dream of a life together. But this man had lied to her. “I won’t stay here.”
He captured her hands in an inescapable grip. Tension sparked by her anger and his frustration charged between them, then ignited into something else, something indefinable, unnerving. She trembled at its power.
Matt cleared his throat. “You can’t go gallivanting all over the countryside with Sara Jane without knowing where you’re going.” He paused. “But I have an idea. We’ll pack up and leave at sunrise.”
“Our destination?”
“Buck George’s place. He’ll put us up. The Rancher’s Rodeo is held on his spread. Roberto’s competing in a few days, and I want to be there anyway to cheer him on.”
Without a better idea of her own, she had to be satisfied with his, but she wouldn’t feel safe until she was away from here—away from those two men—and away from her own traitorous emotions.
****
Matt called Tita and told her the new plans. She volunteered to come over and help Molly get a few things together. With preparations for the trip set in motion, Matt headed for the bunkhouse. He had more questions for the two uninvited guests. In the distant blackness, he heard a coyote’s lonely howl. Wind kicked up dust and earthy livestock smells. His ranch, surrounded by flat, brush country, stretched beneath an endless star-studded sky. John Steinbeck’s words about Texas played at the edges of Matt’s mind—something about Texas being more than a state of mind, and more like a mystique closely approximating a religion, or something like that. But it was how Matt felt about the state, and, thanks to Molly, he’d learned he felt the same way about his land. He’d like to mount Gold King and ride the range to clear his head and drink in the peace and nighttime quiet of his vast land, but with so much left to do to meet the early-morning takeoff, he needed to stick to business.
Matt kicked a stone out of his way. If he’d leveled with Molly, she would never have made that call. He hoped the doctor was wrong, and Molly wouldn’t have a setback from eavesdropping on him and his brother. Damn Parker. Parker had brought things to a head all right. And Molly had heard it all. She’d looked so beautiful in her nightgown and robe, her hair all tousled, and her green eyes full of fire and determination. He swore under his breath when his body hardened from pent-up desire, somehow made more potent by the hot night breeze and the wild strum of guitars coming from the bunkhouse.
Parker, holding a quart of beer, staggered out the bunkhouse door. “Well, I hope you’re happy. You made my friends feel so unwelcome they hightailed it outta here. Pronto.”
The cord in the back of Matt’s neck tightened. “What do you mean?”
“They’re gone.”
“What?”
“You deaf? Gone. Just gone.”
Matt checked the bunkhouse for himself. Webb and Paulo were gone, all right. Matt called Luke and learned that the men had returned to the plane and had taken off a little over an hour ago. He should’ve been glad they were out of his hair, but he found it oddly suspicious that a disabled plane was suddenly airworthy and that men who had insisted upon staying the night abruptly left without a word.
****
A nearby huizache branch scratched against the windowpane in the nursery. Molly jerked at the sound, eyes wide. She rubbed the goose bumps that prickled along her arms. Were those men here to harm her baby? With trembling hands, she stuffed diapers and baby clothes into a large bag. At another sound behind her, Molly jumped and whirled around.
“Buenas noches, señorita,” Tita said.
Molly winced—she’d obviously lost the señora status. “Good evening, Tita. I guess Matt told you I discovered we aren’t married.”
Tita nodded. “I told him he was playing with fire. But that Doctor De La Fuente alarmed him, told him your mind was fragile. Señor Matt’s heart is in
the right place, but he’s a mere man.” She laughed and shrugged. “And what do men know about the workings of a woman’s mind? Or her heart?”
Molly smiled in spite of herself. Tita had a way of cutting to the point.
Tita glanced down at Sara Jane who was cooing and kicking her feet as if in time to the music coming from the slow-whirling animal mobile. “I’m here to help,” Tita said, handing Molly a slip of paper. “I made a list.”
Molly glanced at it. “This’ll help a lot. Thanks. I couldn’t seem to get my brain in gear and was afraid I’d forget something important.”
“You wouldn’t. But two minds are better than one.”
Molly gave a shaky laugh. “Especially when one’s had an emotional blackout.”
Tita placed the car seat by the door and stacked it with extra diapers and blankets. “Señor Matt says you are starting to remember things. That is good, yes?”
Molly shoved some sterilized bottles into a padded tote and ignored the question, unable to think of anything but the danger lurking around her baby. “Matt said he rescued Sara Jane.” Thinking about her baby in the clutches of those monsters made her break out in a cold sweat.
“The rescue cost Señor Matt more than he will ever admit,” Tita said, opening a drawer. “To save Sara Jane, he had to kill the men guarding her. He’d never killed before, and the horror of it weighs heavily on his mind. But for the baby, he would do it again. He’d give his own life; he loves her so.”
Molly’s throat tightened. Matt may have gone about things all wrong, but he’d saved her baby—and from what she was told, at great danger and emotional cost to himself. For that, she’d be forever grateful.
When Molly and Tita had everything packed, Tita left and Molly fed Sara Jane before going to bed. Molly knew she needed to get some sleep if they were to get an early start in the morning. But sleep was elusive. Her mind began to churn and bits of memory zoomed around her like sky rockets at a Fourth of July celebration, soaring so fast she couldn’t latch on to any of them for long. She wasn’t sure if the images were in the proper sequence or even accurate, but at least she was beginning to remember! Her dad in a hospital bed, thin as a rail at one hundred ten pounds. His funeral on a bleak, rainy day—everyone wore black, and sorrow etched stony faces.
With pain shredding her heart, a new image flashed—she had gone to a party to get the goods on Fernando Antonio Maltese Del Fuego, the news story that had forced her into hiding. She remembered meeting Matt. He was so handsome, so mysterious. She had driven him to his hotel in her own car…
The memory began to fade. She clutched at it. No! Come back! In spite of her plea, the image switched. Her mother and sister were crying and begging her not to go into hiding. They’d lost Dad—and now her. If she didn’t go, they would lose her anyway. She’d be no help to anyone if she were dead.
The image changed again. She was in the laundry room meeting with a man. He was big, shadowy. She tried to focus. It was like looking at someone on undeveloped film. He handed her a tiny velvet pouch. Inside were three sterling silver coins.
“What are these?” she had asked.
“Microchips with the complete books on Del Fuego’s illegal operations.”
The memory hovered over her like a dark, ominous cloud, and she found it hard to breathe. That was where she’d gotten the coins! But who was the man? She would figure that out later. The microchips would back up her testimony and put that monster away for life. And give her the documentation for a great story. Should she tell Matt? First, she needed to know more about his part in her case and exactly what they’d meant to each other. Not enough, she supposed, or he couldn’t have left her like he did. What happened when she took him to the hotel that night? Was that when they became lovers? How did she feel when they broke up? No doubt the same way she would feel when this was over. She got up and took one of the sleeping pills the doctor had given to her. She climbed back into bed and thought of Matt’s stirring kisses earlier in the afternoon. He’d pulled back when things started to get heavy. But he’d said he loved her. Although he’d lied about so many things, for the moment, she needed to cling to the slight possibility that it was true. A warm glow wrapped around her, and she felt herself drifting into a pleasant hazy state—then a deep, dreamless sleep claimed her.
Sara Jane cried out, breaking the midnight silence of the house. Before Molly could yank herself out of a deep slumber, the crying stopped. The sudden stillness frightened her more than the cries. Oh, God. The strangers! She threw off the covers and rushed to the nursery.
She expected the room to be lit only by a nightlight. Instead, a soft glow came from a small table lamp, highlighting Matt’s big frame bent over the crib. He had started the mobile, and the rotation tossed playful reflections on the walls and ceiling to the tune of “It’s A Small World.”
Staying in the shadows, Molly watched this rough cowboy diaper the baby. Who was this man? Whoever he was, he was capable of incredible gentleness. When he finished the diapering, he lifted Sara Jane into his arms, cradling her. He grabbed a bottle from the warmer, then settled in the rocking chair. He hummed and rocked while he fed the baby.
The baby smiled, and formula ran down her cheeks. Matt wiped the milk away and kissed her. Sara Jane’s legs kicked in glee. Matt’s eyes took on the softest expression Molly had ever seen. He admired the baby’s tiny hand and traced her paper-thin fingernails with his own large index finger. The sight brought a lump to Molly’s throat. No matter what the situation was between them, he had come to love Sara Jane, and that was a big point in his favor.
****
Morning dawned with a blood-red sun and a dry wind stirring bluestem and buffalo grasses in the pastures. Matt, Roberto, and the baby’s special bodyguard, Ramon, loaded bags of baby things, Matt’s laptop computer and packed suitcases into the Cessna. Molly, Tita, and Sara Jane were already aboard.
The wind sent a tumbleweed across the runway, and Matt wondered if it was an omen, perhaps connected to the disappearance of the strangers. To assure Molly’s and Sara Jane’s safety, he hadn’t told anyone but Alfonso that he planned to fly his precious charges to Buck’s ranch.
Roberto talked almost nonstop about the rodeo and the events he’d entered. Matt remembered when he had ridden the circuit, when one town had blended into another while he racked up trophies and silver belt buckles—and injuries. His dad had wanted more for him and sent him away to college. He was supposed to come back with new ideas and help run the ranch. Instead, he and his best friend Scott had become agents for the FBI.
It had never been about money, but a need for the excitement that came from righting wrongs. He’d found his niche in a world that had nothing to do with ranching or his maverick brothers. After his dad’s heart attack, he’d been forced to put in for phase-out status, working only on a limited basis. Now this case took top priority, even before the ranch.
Matt sighed. Even with all the problems, the ranch had grown on him. He would be glad to leave the FBI service behind when this was all over. Would it ever be over? And would Molly have to stay in the Witness Protection Program after the trial? Could he walk away and let her disappear from his life again? With the responsibility of the ranch, he couldn’t run with her.
And he couldn’t let her go. He had to find a solution. But was there one?
Chapter Six
The nine-seater twin-engine Cessna cut through the sky smooth as silk. Molly had never ridden in a copilot’s seat before, and soaring through the blue sky and gold-tipped clouds gave her a euphoric feeling that anything and everything was possible—she’d get her total memory back and the crime boss would magically disappear.
On such short notice, would she and the other five passengers be welcome at Buck’s ranch? She turned, leaned out, and glanced back at the others. Roberto had earphones over his ears, and he bobbed his head in time with the music from the portable music player that only he could hear. Tita sported a sleep mask and rested against a pill
ow, no doubt trying to catch up on her lack of sleep the night before. Although Ramon had a straw hat pulled low over his face, Molly didn’t think he was sleeping. His body looked as tense as a junkyard dog. Perhaps he was afraid of flying, but he didn’t strike Molly as a fearful man.
Molly couldn’t see Sara Jane, but she knew her baby was asleep in the car seat, nice and safe, belted onto the back of the seat behind Matt.
Matt looked confident at the controls. And why not? Wasn’t controlling things part of his nature? What would happen if he ever gave up his control and just went with the flow? Now wasn’t the time to find out, she thought, not while up in the clouds, miles above ground.
Matt flipped some complicated-looking switches, his total concentration on the instruments and operating the aircraft. She noticed for the first time that his mouth was set in a thin line. Except for a few terse answers, he’d been quiet the whole trip. Her euphoria crashed. Over the roar of the engine, she shouted, “Is something wrong that I don’t know about?”
His jaw muscle twitched.
“Is it the strangers?” she asked. “You did get rid of them, didn’t you?”
“Not exactly,” he growled, looking grim. “But they’re gone.”
She wanted to ask more about it, but Sara Jane began to fuss. Molly unbuckled her seatbelt and went to her. The baby clawed at her ears, then began crying in earnest. Molly picked the baby up and hugged her close. “Mommy’s here. Don’t cry.” Sara Jane cried louder. Molly grabbed a bottle of water from the tote bag and brought the baby back to the copilot’s seat with her.
“She shouldn’t be up here.”
Ignoring him, Molly belted herself in, then pointed out the front window. “See the fluffy clouds, sweetie?” Sara Jane arched backward and kicked her tiny feet, her face as red as her corduroy coveralls. Molly used all her strength to maneuver the baby into a prone position. She tried to stick the nipple in the baby’s mouth, but Sara Jane turned her head from side to side. Molly paused as though she’d given up, and then slipped the nipple between the baby’s lips. “Come on. You have to swallow.” Sara Jane began to suck. “Keep swallowing the water, it’ll help.” Sara Jane sucked a little, then cried again, and with tears flooding her cheeks, her heart-rending sobs getting louder. “It won’t be much longer,” Matt said, shooting a sympathetic glance at the baby.
