by Lynde Lakes
Molly gasped. He was doing the most exquisite things to her. Rivulets of desire became flash-flood torrents, growing in speed and intensity. She tried, despite her growing mindlessness, to give him pleasure in return.
“Not yet, little darlin’,” he murmured. “This is no eight second ride. We have all night.”
To prove his point, he took her right to the peak and let her shimmer on the glittering edge. She dug her nails into his shoulders. “I don’t think I can take much more without shattering.”
“Try,” he whispered and began to stroke her again, slow and easy at first, then faster. All thoughts blanked out, and she arched into his hand and clung to him, almost there. Almost—then he backed off, proving he was in control.
“Matt!” She wanted to shake him. “You’ll pay for this.”
He laughed and kissed her, his massaging excruciatingly unhurried. “I look forward to it,” he said. “I remember how you made me pay the last time we were together like this.” He froze. “Oh God, Molly, just thinking about how you—”
Abruptly he slipped inside her. She constricted around him, smiling to herself. The control had equalized. Hot, slippery, rapid friction made her mindless again, and she closed her eyes and rode the soaring wave of passion. Stars exploded across the backs of her eyelids. Matt clung to her and flew in the same arc, as if they were two fiery meteorites shooting through the heavens. “I love you.” He rained kisses over her face.
It was a few seconds before she could catch her breath enough to answer. Then, she murmured, “This is just how I remembered our lovemaking—only better.”
“The power of old memories can sure derail a man,” he said, shaking his head. “I intended to stretch the pleasure, linger on the rise a while longer.”
She smiled. “Like you said, we have all night. And guess what, cowboy—I’m in charge of the next event.”
He settled down comfortably beside her. “Sounds great…but let’s not rush it. I remember how much you used to like to cuddle, too.”
“Mm, I still do,” she replied, snuggling against him. She traced a long white scar in the middle of his chest. “Did you get this riding the rodeo circuit?”
He looked disappointed, so she figured it was a scar she should have remembered. “That and a dozen more,” he said. “On my legs, my back. Each one has a story, but you’ve heard them all before.”
“Then soon, I’ll remember them all. In the meantime, I plan to check out each and every one. Tonight.” She grinned. “And re-familiarize myself with the complete package known as Matt Ryan.”
He grinned and touched his penis. “I don’t think I ever told you about this scar.”
She laughed and swatted his chest. “I’ll definitely check that one out, too.”
Molly tucked her head into his shoulder and kissed his neck. She smiled. Memories were coming back faster, and their return made her feel more in control. It surprised her that she liked to be in control as much as Matt did, and in a little while, she would take the reins and give this cowboy a night to remember. She had to make the most of their time together because tomorrow he might leave her, and the love and passion they shared might never come again. And that was too heartbreaking to think about.
****
Matt awoke with Molly in his arms; her hair spilled out over his shoulder. He kissed her forehead. Last night she’d given him a wild tumble into bliss. She may have forgotten some things, but how to make love wasn’t one of them. He grinned down at her. She seemed to derive great satisfaction from calling the shots. Funny—with Molly, he didn’t mind sharing control.
He watched her for a while, then eased away, slipped on his robe, and headed for the bathroom. After he washed up, he opened the window and looked out. Suzy’s older brother, Davy, was heading toward the arena.
Matt’s gut tightened. He’d lost his big brother, and his life would never be the same again. Damn it, he felt like he’d charged out of the chute without hold-straps to cling to, and he was spinning, powerless. He rubbed his eyes. God, he was tired. First, Molly had gotten up with Sara Jane, and then he had taken a turn. But Sara Jane waking up several times during the night had not kept him from getting enough sleep. He had to make a decision about returning to the ranch. If he did return, he’d need to find a safe place to leave Molly and Sara Jane for the time being. Unfortunately, nowhere was completely safe. Not until Del Fuego was put away for good.
What was he going to do? He couldn’t ignore his responsibilities. Parker’s killer had to be found, and Luke needed protection and support. Then, there was Parker’s burial…and informing his parents of the death of their eldest son…
Matt returned to the bedroom and slipped back into bed. He drew Molly back into his arms, where she belonged. Where he belonged.
She stirred, and after a moment, her eyes blinked open. “Hi,” she said, looking like an angel. He kissed her eyelids, the tip of her nose, and then her lips. She and the baby had become his world, and everything else he held dear came in a sad second.
“Sleep well?”
Her eyes glittered. “Never better.” She smoothed the lines at the outside corners of his eyes. “But you look worried.”
“I have to tell you something,” he said and took a deep breath. “In addition to all the other illegal operations, I think Del Fuego is dealing in black-market babies.”
“Dear God!” Molly rolled away from Matt and grabbed her robe. “This isn’t just about me and my baby. It’s about a world of women and their babies.” She got up and began to pace, her eyes wild. “I knew Del Fuego was evil, but he’s…he’s the devil himself…the very worst of human nature.” She buried her face in her hands, her whole body trembling.
Matt sat up on the side of the bed and rubbed his throbbing head. He wished he could have kept this to himself, but she needed to know. “And you’re the woman who can get him off the streets. He has to be stopped, Molly.”
“I can face whatever danger there is for me, but I won’t gamble with Sara Jane’s life! I need someone reliable to guard us while you’re gone.”
“I keep thinking of those dead guards,” Matt said. “They were top men, yet Del Fuego took them down and kidnapped Sara Jane. If Del Fuego ever gets his hands on her again she might disappear for good.”
Molly closed her eyes. Matt shrugged into his robe and drew her into his arms. She was still trembling. He could smell a mingling of himself on her and her own natural musky scent. He reined in the urge to kiss her.
“We can’t let him get my baby!”
He heard the tremor in her words. “We won’t. I’ve decided not to go back to the ranch.”
“But Luke needs you. And there’s the funeral and you must go, Matt. You’ll regret it the rest of your life if you don’t. You’re that kind of man. I know.”
“I’ll live with it. Wherever Sara Jane is—wherever you are—is where I intend to be.”
“And have you resent me for the rest of our lives for making you choose between us and your family? No way.”
“That won’t happen.”
Molly twisted away from him and went to the window. He followed and wrapped his arms around her. They stood staring out. He doubted that she was taking in the beauty of the sun-kissed landscape any more than he was. The heat of her penetrated the terry cloth between them and stirred his desire again. “Come back to bed.” He’d made a decision, and he didn’t want to think any more about it.
Molly turned in his arms and faced him. “Wherever I am, that’s where you’ll be, right? Well, you’d better pack your bags, cowboy, because we’re going back to your ranch.”
“You’d go there, knowing the danger?”
She traced the V of his robe with graceful fingers. “You’ll work out the safety measures. You need to do this, and I love you too much to hold you back.”
“No wonder I love you. You’ve got guts.”
“Not guts…not with my baby. I trust you to take care of us.”
He’d never
loved her more. She would do this thing she feared to save him from a lifetime of remorse. It was a tremendous sacrifice. “I’ll see that you never regret this. I’ll start by beefing up security at the ranch.” It sounded too easy, and he hoped like hell that returning to the ranch wasn’t a deadly mistake.
****
Matt made a series of phone calls, setting his security plan into place, and by the time they landed at the ranch, armed vaqueros swarmed out like presidential secret service men to meet their plane.
“Who are these guys?” Molly hadn’t expected anything like this. “And where did they come from?”
“My ranch hands and some vaqueros from other ranches. Everyone wanted to help. Buck sent some trusted men, too.”
The security force had arrived in three air-conditioned semi-trucks and herded their little group, including Tita and Roberto into the center one.
Molly clung to Sara Jane, afraid the swarming men might frighten the baby. “Isn’t this overkill?” she whispered to Matt.
He kissed Sara Jane’s tiny fingers. “No such thing as too much protection for my little sunshine.”
His little sunshine. “I know. But I gotta tell you, all this fuss is terrifying.”
He gave her a squeeze. “Listen, you cared enough to come back here with me, and I don’t want you to ever regret it.”
She didn’t want that either, and for her baby, she’d go along with the safety restrictions. The guards insisted that they remain inside the van until it pulled inside the truck shed. Then, surrounded by a tight shield of vaqueros, they walked the short distance to the house. Armed men crouched on the roofs of the barn, the house.
“Are these guys going to keep us company like this every time we leave the house?”
“You and Sara Jane must stay inside under guard until I comb the ranch. After I’ve swept the entire acreage, you can have a little more freedom.”
Molly frowned. She’d expected guards, but not this. Matt had made her feel like a prisoner when she’d first arrived at the ranch, and now this…
The front door swung open and a tall, Florida-tanned, silver-haired couple in dressy western wear raced down the steps. The slender woman with an unlined face had thick hair done in a short chic style and sapphire eyes that seemed to miss nothing. The well-built man, who looked like a cross between Matt and Anthony Quinn, had dark circles under bloodshot eyes.
Molly had known Matt’s parents would be here for Parker’s funeral, but seeing them charging out of the house unnerved her. She exchanged glances with Tita. “Victoria and Gavin Ryan,” Tita whispered, reminding her of their names.
The Ryans fell into Matt’s arms. “Oh, Matt,” his mom cried. “We were afraid…Luke didn’t know when you were coming…if you were coming. Then you called, praise God.”
Matt held his parents for a long moment. “Mom, Dad, I’m so sorry. How are you holding up?”
Victoria clutched her handkerchief. “We’re all cried out and ready to face what has to be done.”
Gavin swallowed. “The man who did this must pay!”
Matt nodded. Silence hung in the air like an echo from a thunderclap. Matt shifted his weight, then drew Molly and Sara Jane forward. “This is Molly and—”
Victoria opened her arms and hugged Molly. “Luke told me. This is your wife and baby. Welcome to the family, dear. Matt’s explanation of why he kept this precious grandchild a secret from us had better be good.” She lifted the baby from Molly’s arms.
Heat crawled up Molly’s cheeks and she opened her mouth, but no words came out. The lie had mushroomed to hurt more people.
Gavin hugged Molly tight to his broad chest and held on fiercely. She felt his tense hold had little to do with her; he was still reeling from his loss, and his sorrow seeped into her pores like acid. “Luke didn’t exaggerate when he said you were beautiful. Welcome, Molly, welcome.”
“Let’s get inside.” Matt’s voice was gruff with emotion as he herded them toward the house.
With Tita on one side and Roberto on the other, Molly followed, looking at the ground and wishing it would swallow her.
Tita squeezed her arm. “Don’t feel guilty, señora,” she whispered. “It is not you who lied about being married.”
The guards stopped at the door and took up their posts. Inside the house, late afternoon sun poured through the arched windows and threw shadows on the wall, the dark images seeming to mock the lie. Matt had to clear this up right away, or she would.
“I hope you’re hungry.” Matt’s mom led them into the dining room. “I prepared enough for an army. Good thing I did, huh? At least it…it kept me busy…” Molly’s heart ached for the poor mother who had just lost her eldest son.
The table had been set for eight people with the baby’s high chair pulled up at a corner. Steam rose from large covered bowls. Aromas of peppers and cooked meat filled the air, along with something made of chocolate. Luke came out of the kitchen carrying a platter loaded with ribs. He almost dropped the platter onto the table, he was in such a rush to hug Matt. “Thank God you’re here. The attorney got me out on bail. But it’s not looking good.”
“Your brother will fix it, won’t you, Matt?” His father darted a sharp look at Matt. “You won’t fail us and let something happen to Luke, too. Will you, son?”
The accusation and warning in the elder man’s words were unmistakable—and so unfair. “Parker’s death wasn’t Matt’s fault,” Molly said. “It was—”
“Please,” Matt’s mother interrupted. “Can’t we talk about all of this after dinner?” Her face was rigid, and she fluttered her lashes.
“No, Mom,” Matt said. “We need to clear some things up right now.” He motioned for everyone to sit down, and took Sara Jane from his mother’s arms and put the baby into the high chair. “First, you all must take a vow of secrecy.”
They all knew that Matt was an FBI agent; they knew his request was not frivolous.
Murmurs of agreement hummed through the group, and they took seats around the big dining room table. Everyone stared at Matt and waited. Molly could barely breathe.
“Number one, Molly’s not my wife. At least not yet. And while I wish Sara Jane was my child, she’s not. But they’re both very dear to me.”
Matt’s words swirled in Molly’s head…not yet…not my child…both dear to me. It was an explanation, not a commitment. Regardless of the implied promise, he’d never actually promised her anything. Molly bit her lip and fidgeted with her hands in her lap. She could clear up the misconception about Matt’s blame in all this, if people would just let her talk.
Parker’s death was her fault. She’d led Webb and Paulo to the ranch with her phone call. She wouldn’t mention, of course, that if Matt had told her the truth from the beginning she wouldn’t have made the call. But better they hate her than feel Matt had failed them. He didn’t deserve their criticism. God, she’d never seen anyone try harder to take care of everyone.
Matt explained about the danger and the high security then said, “I’ve made it as safe here as humanly possible, but I need everyone’s cooperation to make the system work.” He faced his dad. “It breaks my heart that Parker was murdered, and I’ll do all I can to clear Luke and bring Parker’s killer to justice, but I’ll be damned if I’ll take the blame for his death.”
“I told Dad about Lone Star Retreat,” Luke said. “He knows Parker’s murder isn’t your fault.”
The old man pounded the table with the flat of his hand. “Since when do you speak for me, Luke?” He glared at him a moment, then turned his ire toward Matt. “You’re in charge. I expected—”
Matt’s mother covered her husband’s hand. “Don’t get excited, dear. You know what the doctor said.”
Matt closed his eyes for a moment, as though he’d just remembered his father’s heart trouble. “Mom’s right,” he said in a tight voice. “Let’s eat, then the two of us can talk in private.”
The old man gave a slight bow of his head. “I’m sor
ry, my dear, I forgot my manners.”
Molly forced a tight smile. “Matt’s been carrying a tremendous burden single-handedly for a long time, and doing his very best to take care of everyone at a great sacrifice to himself and his own dreams. I hope you all appreciate that.”
Faces around the table paled. No one dared breathe. The silence pounded against Molly’s eardrums. She didn’t care. The old codger needed to know what a fine son he had.
Matt’s father’s face flushed, and his gaze burned into hers. He reminded her of a bull, pawing the earth before the charge. Then he shook his head.
“You ought to marry this girl, Matt. She’s got fire. And guts.”
****
The cheerful morning brightness was a sharp contrast to the dark cloud of sorrow hanging over the Ryan ranch. Leading the procession, Matt inched his shiny red truck along at a snail’s pace through the compound. From buildings, windmills, and fences, guards watched. They removed their hats while the funeral procession passed. Behind Matt, his dad followed in a black Cadillac accompanied by Matt’s mom and Luke.
Matt glanced in the rearview mirror several times. Beside him, Molly turned and glanced through the rear window into the bed of their truck. The mahogany box, covered with dozens of white carnations, hadn’t budged. “Parker’s casket is fine,” she said past the lump in her throat.
“I know,” Matt said, his jaw tight. “I was trying to get a glimpse of Dad. He seemed a little flushed earlier.”
If the old man wasn’t always in such a stew, maybe his health would be better, and he could run the damned ranch himself, Molly thought. She reached past the baby strapped in her car seat between them and touched Matt’s arm. “Luke’s with your parents. He’ll watch out for your dad.”
“Yeah,” Matt said without conviction.
Molly rubbed her arms and looked out the window. When the dirt road curved, she could see the full extent of their long procession—a cavalcade fit for a king. Matt had performed a miracle by pulling things together so quickly, so expertly.
