He was right. The minutes dragged by like hours, and then became hours that seemed to last for days. His head nodded. He snapped it upright. His eyelids drooped. He pried them open. The moon rose high, lopsided and waxing toward full. Big and yellow. Lonely. Cold. It got damned cold out here at night. Cacti dotted the splitting desert ground, standing like bandits caught by the law. Hands up. No colors out here at night. Shades of gray. No black and white. Was there a message hidden in there somewhere for him?
Soft footsteps made him swing his head around. Kirsten stood behind him, her blanket wrapped around her shoulders. A tin cup in her hand. She handed it to him. He just looked at it.
"Coffee," she said. "It's still slightly warm. I thought you could use a cup."
"Thanks." He took a drink, grimaced at the taste, but drank some more.
"So, are you going to sit up here all night?"
"Thought I might."
She went silent, turned and leaned her back against the rock. He sat atop the same hunk of stone, so she was close to his legs. Not close enough.
Should he apologize again? Try to explain how the image of a woman who should have been his wife in the bed of another man could make a man crazy? Cause him to say mean, hurtful things? He only knew Joe Cowan was one lucky son of a gun to be dead right now. 'Cause if he were alive, Adam would be out for blood. And it would be slow. The bastard had forced Kirsten … he'd forced her. God, Adam wanted to make that reality go away.
He looked at her. Moonlight gleamed in her round wounded eyes. No makeup now. She wore the jeans and T-shirt she'd found in the saddlebag, and her hair hung down long and loose. She looked like the girl he'd fallen in love with. And the years almost seemed to fall away.
"Kirsty, I, uh…"
"You ought to go meet with your brother," she said, interrupting him.
"What?" His brothers were the last thing on Adam's mind right now.
"Elliot. He said in his note to meet him at Thompson Gorge at midnight. I think you should go."
"Why?"
She tipped her head back to look up at him. "Because he might have some kind of information for us. Maybe he's learned something—"
"He doesn't know anything," Adam assured her.
She tilted her head. "You won't know that unless you meet him." Adam pursed his lips. "I know you don't want to drag him into my mess, Adam," Kirsten rushed on. "But he's already involved. He knows we're out here, he gave us supplies, and maybe he's even been digging around on his own."
"Damn fool kid's liable to get himself killed. At least get brought up on charges."
Her brows creased. "You underestimate him, you know. He's not a kid anymore." Crossing her arms over her chest, she added, "And I don't want him getting into trouble because of me any more than you do. So don't you think we ought to see what he's been up to? Find out just what he's doing and tell him to stay out of it?"
With a sigh, he nodded. "I suppose you're right."
"Then let's go. It's eleven-thirty now." She straightened away from the boulder.
Adam slid to the ground, caught her shoulders in his hands and turned her around.
"What?"
"Two things." He pulled his lips tight. "Maybe three."
"Well?"
"One … I shouldn't have said the crap I did before. I didn't mean it. It was foolish male pride and jealousy, and I know damn good and well you've never been any man's whore. I'm sorry. I mean it."
Licking her lips, she lowered her head.
"Two … I want you to stay behind while I go to see Elliot."
"No way in—"
"Suppose he was followed?"
"He's smarter than that," she argued.
"Maybe, and maybe not. The point is, why risk it? If someone's watching him and they see you, all three of us are going to wind up in one of Garrett's cells. So I want you to stay here."
She made a face, lifted her head, but didn't argue. "And three?" she prodded.
"Three?" Adam looked down at her. The round dark wells of her eyes. Hair loose now, and tumbling. The spray had worn off hours ago, so her artificial curls had given way to the natural waves. His voice went coarse and gravelly. "Oh, yeah. Three." He bent down and touched her lips with his, kissed her gently, slowly, as tenderly as he could manage. Tasting her upper lip, her lower one, softly tracing their shape with his tongue. He felt her tremble, heard her catch her breath. Then he lifted his head away. "Three is just this. I still love you. And I want you back."
Every part of her went hard. Stiff. Her eyes seemed rounder and wider than he'd ever seen them.
"When I make love to you again, Kirsty, I'll make you forget Cowan ever touched you. I'll burn that memory away. I'll make it better, I swear it."
Shaking her head hard from side to side, she backed away. "No. You don't know what you're saying."
"Yeah," he said. "I do. And I'm not gonna give up. I'm here for you, Kirsty, and no matter what you do, I'm not gonna give up on you this time. I'm not gonna go running off to lick my wounded pride. If I hadn't done that before, you wouldn't be in this mess now. I might be stubborn, but I'm not stupid. I learn from my mistakes."
For a long moment she was quiet. Adam decided he'd rendered her speechless. He was pretty surprised by his declarations himself. Enough said. He grabbed his hat off the boulder behind him and dropped it on his head. "Guess I'll go meet Elliot now."
"Adam, wait."
He paused, turned around.
"I want there to be no mistake about this," she said slowly. "The trouble I'm in is no one's fault but my own. Do you understand? No one's. I brought this on myself, and I probably deserve every bit of it. Whatever the outcome. Remember that."
"No, you don't—"
"Yes, I do. You don't know all the things I've done, Adam."
"But I will. Just as soon as you tell me." He cupped her cheek. "When I get back, okay? We'll talk when I get back."
She lowered her head, nodded once. Later, Adam thought he should have seen the warning in her eyes, just before she looked away from his. He should have seen it.
But he didn't.
He just let go of her and headed back to where he'd picketed the horses. Saddled Layla and rode away, off to Thompson Gorge, where it was said the ground was soaked with century-old blood and the spirits of the dead still lingered on nights like tonight.
The way he shivered as the Appaloosa's hooves plodded slowly into the box canyon, Adam could believe it was true.
He looked ahead, left and then right. Saw nothing but the tall, jagged stone walls. The barren ground, dry and splitting. The ghostlike movement of a tumbleweed rolling in slow motion across the unforgiving earth. The occasional dust devil swirling like a living thing in the moonlight.
And then other hoofbeats sounded. Soft. Slow. Coming closer. A rider emerged from the darkness, a gun held in his hand.
Kirsten was already dressed for the journey. Not in the clothes of Mrs. Joseph Cowan, but in a pair of borrowed jeans and a T-shirt, with a denim shirt from the saddlebags for added warmth. Her uniform was gone. Her pretend face. Her make-believe self. Gone, leaving her stripped bare, at the mercy of the elements. There would be no more hiding. No more rich-man's-wife routine, no more attitude. She was just Kirsten Armstrong. She was just a liar and a murderer on the run from the law. No makeup kit or closet full of clothing was going to change that. Not even the love of a man like Adam Brand could change that.
It was no good. No good staying here with Adam and watching him fall for her all over again. No good feeling those old feelings for him trying to pry their way out of the prison where she'd kept them locked away all this time. None of that was any good at all.
She crammed some of the supplies into one set of saddlebags; then she saddled the remaining horse and mounted up. This was her fight. Not Adam's. She'd dragged herself into this mess alone, and she would damned well get out of it alone. She'd ruined enough lives.
She turned Mystic around and started for the border. She
would have plenty of time. She figured the canyon where Adam had gone to meet his brother was a half hour's ride from here. By the time Adam got there and back, she would have a solid head start. And if he was smart, he wouldn't bother following her, anyway.
She dug in her heels, leaned low over the sleek, muscled neck and held on. The mare sailed through the night like a cloud across the face of the moon. Gloriously chilled air rushed over Kirsten's face, lifted her long hair. Animal heat warmed her where her legs held tight to the horse's sides, and she felt those powerful muscles bunching and lengthening beneath her.
It had been a long time since she'd done anything like this … given anything in her life this kind of rein. Run headlong through the night and let the thrill of it invigorate her to the marrow. The stars glittered down, and the moon lit her way. A silver strand glistened ahead, a stream, and she leaned, squeezed, spoke softly. The mare jumped it easily, landing again and never breaking stride. This was good. And freedom lay just ahead.
Freedom…
She'd thought freedom had come when she'd found her husband lying dead on that cold marble floor. But it hadn't. Joseph still imprisoned her, even from death.
Now she thought she would find this elusive thing—this freedom she craved—on the far side of the Mexican border. But would she?
She eased her seat, let up on the mare. Their pace slowed, and Kirsten asked herself just what it was she wanted freedom from. Prison? A murder charge? Yes, certainly those things. But what about Texas? Her home, her town? What about her father? How would she ever fulfill her promise to get him out of the nursing home, to bring him to live with her, if she were a fugitive for the rest of her life? Did she really think she would ever be able to send for him? Take him down there to live with her? How would she explain the false names she would have to use? How would she get him the heart transplant he so desperately needed?
And what about Adam?
"And now we get to the truth, don't we?" she whispered.
She slowed the horse to a walk, lowered her head. He was what she was really running from. Adam Brand, the man she'd always loved, and the truth she'd kept hidden from him. The horrible secret it was going to kill her to tell. That was why she'd run from him in the first place.
Why she'd kept on running ever since. Why she was still running.
Because the fact was, running away from the truth had been easier than facing Adam with what she'd done. Watching the love in his eyes turn to hatred. Seeing the pain, the hurt. And it was still easier.
She swallowed against the dryness in her throat and looked ahead. Lights here and there, where the border patrol lay in wait. More officers than usual out here tonight. Probably because they had a fugitive to hunt down. Kirsten licked her lips, moved more slowly, strained her eyes to see where the men were, and hunted for a spot between them, where she could slip past unnoticed.
Then one of the lights flashed from someplace far too close, shining right into her eyes. She lifted one hand instinctively to block the glare, and a man's voice yelled, "Hold it right there!"
Jerking the reins hard, Kirsten ducked low, whirled the horse around and kicked her sides. The mare leapt into motion, then picked up speed even more when a gunshot—a frighteningly close gunshot—split the night's silence. And then dozens of others rang out in answer—coming from farther away, but aimed at her, every one of them.
"Adam?" Elliot lowered the gun when he got close enough to confirm it was his brother he'd been pointing it at.
"Put that damn thing away," Adam snapped. "You trying to get yourself killed?"
"Trying to help you out of a mess of trouble, big brother. Not that you seem to be any too grateful."
"I'm not. I don't want you involved in this."
"Too late," Elliot said. He holstered his gun, got off his horse. Adam noticed the lean grace with which he moved, the power he seemed to hold in check. Hell,
Kirsten was right. His kid brother wasn't a kid anymore.
Adam dismounted as well, swallowed the scolding tone that kept trying to creep into his words, and instead clasped Elliot's hand. When had it become so big, so callused? "Thanks for the supplies."
"No problem. Where are you staying?"
"Made camp not far from here. For now. We're gonna have to move around a lot."
Elliot nodded. "Garrett didn't sound the alarm. I wanted to make sure you knew that. He tried to stall, never said a word about whatever the hell happened at the estate this morning. The rangers never knew you and Kirsten were missing until they showed up to place her under arrest." Elliot paused, eyeing his brother. When Adam didn't speak, he said, "I saw the bruise on Garrett's jaw, Adam. The rest I've been piecing together on my own."
Adam lowered his head, guilt rising like bile in his throat. "He didn't give me any choice."
"The hell he didn't. He's our brother, Adam. He wouldn't have—"
"He was going to let them arrest her."
"Well what the hell did you expect him to do? He's the sheriff, and she's wanted for murder."
Adam shrugged, shook his head. "Is Garrett okay?"
Elliot just stared at him. Then his smile finally came back. Slowly, but surely. "What? You afraid you hurt him?" Elliot's grin grew wider. "You are, aren't you? You sure do have an active fantasy life, pardner. Garrett's got fifty pounds on you. You might be better asking yourself why big brother Garrett went down so easy, instead of wondering how bad you might have hurt him. If he had hit you back, you'd be in a coma right now."
Licking his lips, biting back an angry retort based solely on his own ego, Adam paused, thought back and finally sighed. "You're right. He did go down awfully easy."
"'Course I'm right." Elliot shrugged. "I mean, not to belittle that bruise on his jaw or anything—you always did have a solid right hook—but this is Garrett we're talking about here."
Adam's guilt grew even bigger. "He let us go," he said slowly.
"Damn straight he did. Then, when the rangers came out later in the day and found you two gone, they accused Garrett of aiding and abetting. Threatened to bring him up on charges, but I think he managed to convince them he was completely unaware you'd left. And now they've got a full-fledged manhunt going on."
"I figured as much." Adam lowered his head, sighed. "Listen, all I want to do is buy some time. Find out who killed that bastard, pin a medal on him, and then see to it Kirsten doesn't end up doing his time for him."
Elliot sighed, too, hunkered down. "I kinda figured that was the plan. But how are you gonna do any digging when you can't get back into town?"
"I'll think of something."
"I could—"
"No."
"But if I—"
"Absolutely not."
"Adam, for crying out—"
"No, Elliot."
Elliot's jaw went tight. He held his brother's gaze, his own every bit as stubborn. And then he pulled a hand out of a pocket. It had a brown plastic prescription bottle in it. He held it out. Adam took it.
"What is this?" Joseph Cowan's name was on the bottle. And the name of the drug it contained was one that was familiar. "Percodan?" Adam glanced at Elliot for an explanation.
"I found it in the medicine cabinet in Cowan's master bathroom when I … er … broke into the house today."
"You broke into the—"
"I thought you ought to know about it."
Adam sighed, turned in a circle and pushed his hat off his head. When he faced Elliot again, he shook his head. "The rangers left this?"
Elliot shrugged. "Probably didn't see anything too strange about a pill bottle in a medicine cabinet. Maybe they didn't recognize it for what it was. I wouldn't have myself, except for Doc prescribing it for me when I was seventeen and got thrown by the bull—"
"Thrown and then stomped by the prize bull you'd decided you could ride," Adam said. "I remember. You were broken in so many places, the whole family ached."
"But, Adam, why the hell would Cowan have been taking a painkiller
this powerful? This stuff is a narcotic, for crying out loud."
Adam blew a sigh. "You got me. It's a damned good question. But, Elliot, I don't see what this could have to do with the murder. He didn't die from any drug overdose. It was a bullet in the middle of his forehead that put the bastard in hell where he belongs."
"I don't know. I don't know. Maybe nothing. But it's all I could come up with."
Adam stared at the label, willing the bottle to talk to him.
"You've still got it bad for Kirsten, don't you, Adam?"
Looking up sharply, Adam saw the knowledge in his brother's eyes … the brother who was no kid anymore. Finally he just lowered his head again.
"Hell, we all saw it from the minute you came back here. You were the only one who didn't."
"Yeah, well, she's keeping a whole pile of secrets, Elliot. And I don't know if she's gonna be ready to trust any man again any time soon."
"Shoot, you're not any man. You're my brother."
He felt his lips pull into a half smile. "Thanks, Elliot. That means a lot."
Elliot smiled back, slapped Adam's shoulder and turned toward his horse. And that was when the echo of distant gunfire came floating on the breeze, ringing and bouncing off the canyon walls, making it impossible to judge direction or how many shots or anything else.
But Adam's heart froze over, and that was all he needed to know. "Kirsty…" He leapt into the saddle and spurred the horse toward camp, where he'd left her. But he had a sick feeling he wouldn't find her there.
He was halfway there before he realized his kid brother was riding right alongside.
They passed the camp, and he knew without much more than a glance that Kirsten wasn't there. No horse, no sign of life. She'd bugged out on him. Headed for the border. Hell, she was running from him all over again.
They rode hell-bent for leather, and the shooting became louder. The horse blew hard, digging her hooves into the dirt, throwing clumps behind them and thundering over the barren ground. And finally Adam saw her. Kirsten was heading right for them, her horse running like the wind, her body bent over, almost horizontal to the animal's. Beyond her, lights and motion. ATVs and spotlights, bounding over the rugged terrain.
THE BADDEST BRIDE IN TEXAS Page 10
