Only Mattie had vehemently, passionately spoken up in his defense. She was a fighter, loyal as they came, and she didn’t care whom she confronted when it came to him and his stained reputation.
How he loved her.
Rubbing his chest, he felt a pain of loss that was so deep, he couldn’t even begin to give it words. His innocence had been lost after his years growing up with Mattie. She’d nourished his soul with her smile, her laughter, the mischievous glint in her eyes, and her devotion. The two innocents had dreamed together when in high school about their futures. Mark was unsure of his, but Mattie wasn’t. She had a very active imagination, sharing with him what she wanted out of life: a home, a husband, and lots of children.
But none of those felt possible to Mark. After living with Jeb, such dreams felt unreal, impossible even to imagine. Mark couldn’t dream the same dreams that Mattie had. After all, she had parents who loved her and the rest of her siblings. That was why he and Sage had been pulled, like magnets, to the Lockwood ranch next door and had spent so much time with the four of them, loving every minute.
Mark hated going home at night to his drunken father passed out on the couch. His whole world revolved around protecting Sage. She was so beautiful and innocent. Mark remembered that, even at age ten, he’d thought Sage was perfect.
When his father began looking at her intently, and not at all like a father should, Sage had felt it, and so had he. His life during those first eighteen years had been a hot mess.
Now, gazing at his surroundings in the quiet warehouse, hearing the wind lift some of the aluminum siding around it, the creaks, the metal sounds, he felt as if he had been totally catapulted to another planet. The only thing that made sense in his crazy life was Mattie Lockwood. He’d kissed her when they were juniors in high school. He wanted to protect her, and himself, even though he felt unworthy of someone like her. How could he dream of having her when he was such a messed-up loser?
Tipping his head back against the wall, Mark let himself return to his happy times with Mattie. This was a special moment, since he rarely had time to do so while undercover. He had to be vigilant to prevent the Cardona gang from finding out he was an enemy in their midst. Now, he had the gift of time.
Mattie was less than a mile away from where he’d taken refuge. What would she think if he walked back into her life at some point after he came back to Van Horn after leaving the DEA? She’d always welcomed him, always treated him like a good friend, whether he felt he deserved it or not.
His mind spun with options, choices, and confusion over what to do next. He knew that first, he had to get to the DEA headquarters in El Paso. It was there he’d adopted his fake name, a beard, and gone underground. Now, for some reason, he felt freer than he had in a long time because he’d told Hilbert he was quitting.
Where should he go? Mark knew one thing for sure—he wasn’t going back to his family ranch. There were several other ranches in the area, and maybe he could apply for a job as a wrangler with one of them.
Sure, fat chance! Everyone knew he was a troublemaker. Wearily rubbing his face, he knew he was at a crossroads in his life. But which way should he go? What to do? If Mattie were here, he could talk to her about it. She always had sensible ideas and a practical approach to life. God, he wished he could see her right now!
CHAPTER 3
January 24
Mattie regretted that she’d rejected her family’s invitation to join them for dinner, but she knew she would have been poor company. When she had black moments like these, they would drown her in a sea of sadness she couldn’t rise above. Usually, she’d have an episode after Mark had unexpectedly appeared—not that she blamed him for her depressions.
Mark had always brought out her deepest emotions. During their most recent encounter a month ago, she had dressed his broken arm and then, right on script, she’d watched him disappear again. After that, there had been no contact. And once again, his secrecy was getting her down.
Five months earlier, he’d suddenly quit his wrangling job at the Cavanaugh Ranch just outside Van Horn, and told everyone he was leaving for El Paso. Apparently, he had found a new job as a truck driver, and he’d warned everyone not to expect to hear from him. He’d been as good as his word, which Mattie hadn’t liked one bit!
Outside it was cold, a mixture of rain and ice pellets hitting her windows. Kindergarten would probably be cancelled tomorrow due to the icy, dangerous weather sweeping across western Texas. She sat down in her home office to create next week’s lesson plans and fun projects for her classes.
Mattie tried not to think about what Wyatt had told her last week when she’d called him at his office, pleading with him to tell her if Mark was all right.
His theory that Mark might be involved in the drug trade had alarmed her, but Wyatt had pointed out this was pure conjecture. He didn’t know anything for sure—just that Mark Reuss had been off the grid since he’d gone off to El Paso.
Mattie shivered as she heard the wind buffeting her house, reminding her that a cold front was coming through tonight and tomorrow morning. The desert landscape here in Texas badly needed rain. She sighed and pulled out her lesson plans from the spreadsheet on her Mac desktop computer.
At least preparing for her classes was doing something positive, and she knew her kids would love all the hands-on activities she had gleefully planned for them. That was an upper and lifted her spirits a bit.
The sound of the doorbell shook her out of her reverie. Frowning, she looked up toward the hall. Who could that be? She knew her family was going to begin their dinner over at the Rocking L Ranch about now. Looking at her watch, she saw that it was eight p.m.
Pushing her office chair back, she smoothed down her jeans and quickly walked out into the hall.
Curious, she looked through the peephole. It was Mark! He was standing on her steps, uneasily shifting back and forth and getting rained on. His black Stetson and a heavy sheepskin coat were soaked, his face wet from having been pelted with rain.
Instantly, her heart began to pound. Gripping the knob, she opened the door.
“Mark!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing here?” She was shocked to see that he was now clean-shaven.
“I know it’s late, Mattie, but I need to see you.” His voice was low and gruff.
“Of course, come in,” she said, stepping aside. Her gaze went from his glistening face to the dark splotches along the shoulders of his sheepskin coat. Then, looking beyond him, she saw he had a silver Ford pickup parked outside her white picket fence. At least this time he had wheels.
“Thanks,” he said, stepping on her large, bristly floor mat just inside the house. He carefully wiped his boots off.
Mattie locked the door and slowly turned toward Mark. The exhaustion she saw on his face, however, was both a bad sign and a good one. She hated that he was pushing himself too hard, which made her worry. But she was grateful that he was willing to share his true state of mind, which he normally hid from her and everyone else. She knew he trusted her, and that he’d turn up when he needed her to bail him out for some reason or another, like tending to his wounded arm. And she was always willing to be there for him. It was the hasty departures afterward that made her sad, and the game face he’d put on that created a barrier between them.
“How’s your arm doing?” she asked, gesturing toward it. She saw him pull his hands out of his pockets.
“It’s pretty good. You were right, Mattie. It was a green break closed fracture.” Looking around, he asked, “Am I coming at a bad time?”
“No, I’m here alone. The weather is so awful, everyone’s staying in. I’m sure they’ll cancel school tomorrow morning.”
He nodded, his eyes showing concern. “Yeah, this weather is a bitch. No one in their right mind should be out in this stuff tonight.”
Mattie hated that he never called ahead, always assuming she’d be around for him. Would he once again come and go in a few minutes like his usual routine
? “What brings you here, Mark? I never see you unless you want something from me. You dropped out of sight after your broken arm, and no one’s heard from you since.”
He winced at her sharp tone and avoided her eyes for a moment, his jaw working. “I guess I had that coming. I’m here because I quit the trucking job I had in El Paso and I’m coming home to Van Horn.” His voice grew thick with emotion. “And first, I wanted to see you, Mattie. To come by and thank you for all you did for me the last time we saw each other.” He took off his Stetson, running his long, calloused fingers through his short, black hair.
Surprised, Mattie said, “Oh. I-I didn’t know you’d quit that job … whatever it was …”
The corners of his mouth stretched a little as he held her gaze. “You’re the first person to know I’m back here for good. And I’m not here because I need something from you this time, Mattie. You’ve always been a loyal friend, despite me being who I am. I just wanted to drop by and say ‘thanks’.”
“You’re home? For good?”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
Swallowing hard, Mattie could barely resist throwing her arms around Mark. He’d been a shadow in her life since he’d left the military nearly a year ago. Wanting to believe his words, she asked, “What does ‘pretty much’ mean, Mark?”
“Well, first I need to find a job. I also need to find a place to live and all that.”
“You could go home to your ranch and live with Sage,” she suggested. Oops! That was a mistake!. She saw his mouth harden and knew he was processing unhappy memories. How she wished she could take back her words!
“You know I can’t do that, Mattie. When I left for the Corps at eighteen, I promised myself I’d never step foot back on that ranch until Jeb had died. And the bastard is still alive.”
“Yes, it’s true,” Mattie agreed. “He is alive, and he’s still making everyone miserable on the ranch. But through it all, Sage has brought the place back to life. It’s financially solvent now.”
He settled the hat back on his head, stuffing his hands back into the coat once more.
Changing the subject, he ventured, “I was wondering if you’ve heard of any ranches around Van Horn that might be looking to hire another wrangler?”
Mattie suddenly brightened. “Well, as a matter of fact, my dad told me the other day that he needed one.”
Mark’s eyes lit up. “Really?”
“Yes. Hank lost one of his best and oldest vaqueros, Pepe, who had to move back to Mexico because his parents weren’t well.”
“Hey, I remember Pepe growing up. He’s a good man and a helluva wrangler.”
Mattie drew in a breath, let it out, and said, “Let’s talk it over at dinner. Have you eaten, Mark?”
“No, not since this morning. I’ve been traveling all day through this damned cold front.” He frowned, gesturing toward the door. “Black ice is everywhere on the roads between El Paso and here. It was really slow going and I saw a lot of accidents along the route.”
“That’s why I’m not leaving the house to do anything until the storm passes tomorrow around noon,” agreed Mattie. “But we can still have a good dinner. I have some leftover pot roast, potatoes, carrots, celery, and a good gravy. Interested?”
He hesitated, looking deep into her eyes. “Do you really want me here, Mattie?”
Mattie shot him a disbelieving look. How could he ask that of her? He immediately felt like a jerk and looked away, riding his own downward trajectory. He knew that Mattie cared for him as a friend, but she looked downright insulted. Heck, he’d feel that way too if she had said that to him!
“Of course I do,” she sputtered, indignant that he’d even suggested such a thing. “We’ve been friends forever, Mark Reuss! You know that!” She saw relief come to his eyes and he grimaced, giving her an apologetic look.
“I feel like I’ve always been a bad penny, showing up at odd times in your life, Mattie. I’ve caused you nothing but frustration whenever I’m around you. I never want to do that to you. You deserve a lot better than me walking in and out of your life again.”
“How about if you let me decide that?” she shot back. “Quit making assumptions and let me put some meat on your bones. Follow me.”
*
Mark was so relieved he couldn’t speak as he silently followed her into the kitchen. He’d hung up his coat and hat on a wooden peg near the front door. The family area was open concept, well-lit, and very homey. Mark felt that it reflected Mattie’s warm, bustling energy, and he loved being here.
Mattie was the most appealing woman he’d ever met. She was just perfect as far as he was concerned, all five feet, seven inches tall, and curvy in all the right places. Tonight she wore a pair of jeans, a purple, long-sleeved sweater, and sneakers. The sway of her hips tempted his body to come back to life, and he tried to keep his physical response under control.
Mattie was a rancher’s daughter, an outdoors woman and very capable in every way. He loved her—and always had. That had been the one constant in his life, the only good one. She represented hope to Mark, something he had rarely experienced in his life. Mattie inspired him, but he was afraid to grasp it after having had “you’re a curse to everyone who knows you” drilled into him by his father. That, among other reasons, was why he’d chosen black ops as a profession—to fade away into the background, to live in the shadows, to hide his shameful past.
One of his most precious memories was the day he’d met Mattie in the first grade. Mattie had bounced into Miss Harper’s first-grade class at the Van Horn Elementary School. She wore a pair of denim overalls, and a bright-pink tee that complemented her coverlet of freckles.
Her red hair, even then, had a mind of its own. The strands were trapped in a set of girlish pigtails and the ends were tied with pink, satin ribbons. Later, he would see her unhappily try to tame that wild hair of hers, but it was curly hair, so it did what it wanted.
Mark had sat in the back of the room, choosing a desk hidden in a shadow, trying to ignore the throbbing pain along his rear where his father had struck him with a belt earlier that morning.
Magically, just seeing Mattie skip into the small classroom, he forgot his misery and pain. She was like a blinding, beautiful beam of sunlight, transporting him to a different reality. Her smile, so friendly and genuine, made him feel good inside. His attention was always on her throughout their first-grade year, but Mark was too shy to say ‘hello’ or introduce himself. After all, he was only a shadow, not a whole person.
At quiet moments, which weren’t often, he would resurrect his tender image of Mattie as a child. Then, he would visualize her today and his heart would stir, wanting her, wanting to be close to her, wanting so many things that had never been initiated. But he told himself that they were just dreams—broken dreams turned to dust.
The memories poured through Mark now as he sat down at Mattie’s rectangular maple table. It had been in her family since the 1850s, when they first came West and began homesteading this area. Everything in her home was from the past, and that alone made him feel good.
“Can I help you at all?” he offered.
“Just sit there and relax,” she suggested, opening up the fridge. She turned around to meet his eyes. “How hungry are you?”
He almost said, I’m starving for you, Mattie. I’d love to put my arms around you and haul you into my bed and never let you go. But he didn’t. Clearing his throat, he said, “Pretty darn hungry, actually.”
Her lips lifted a little. “Like a wrangler hungry after busting his hump for eight hours riding and repairing fence line?”
His mouth curved. “Yeah, that kind of hungry.”
Nodding, she got busy pulling out different plastic containers and placing them on the granite counter nearby. “Looks like you’ve dropped a few pounds, Mark. Let’s start with dinner to put some back on, okay?”
Mark nodded, folding his hands on the table, pleased that Mattie cared about his well-being. “That job was pretty
stressful, and kept me on the move all the time.”
Of course he couldn’t tell Mattie that he’d been an undercover drug agent for the DEA. But he didn’t want to lie to her, either. He hated doing that because most of his adult life, he’d been living in secrecy. First, he’d done top-secret work in the Marine Corps, and then, in the last five months, with the DEA.
As she pulled down her favorite floral dinner plates, she surprised him by saying “You know, I still remember back in school the time Jeb had beaten you with his belt just before you got on the bus.” Cutting some thick slices of beef and transferring it to the plate, she went on, “I couldn’t figure out why you couldn’t eat your lunch on days like that. Then, when you told me, I understood. You were too upset emotionally to feel hungry.” She frowned, hands hovering over the roast beef. “Were you in some kind of trouble over the last five months, Mark? Is that why you stopped eating again and lost so much weight?”
Uneasy, he lowered his lashes and looked down at his tightly clasped hands for a moment. “You been talking to Wyatt?”
She laughed lightly and moved to the container with the veggies in it. “Yes. Does it show?”
“Sort of,” he muttered, scowling.
“I told Wyatt that you came here with a broken arm the night afterward. He and Tal had come over for dinner and I told them what happened.” She twisted her head around, meeting his narrowed gaze. “I had to ask him what the heck was going on with you.”
“And Wyatt’s in the black-ops business with Artemis Security,” Mark finished.
She poured the gravy over the beef and potatoes, then popped the plate into the microwave. “I had to ask someone, Mark, since you never tell me anything.”
His conscience twinging, he nodded, debating what he’d tell her. Mattie was the kind of woman he could confide in, and God knew, he wanted to do exactly that. But he feared that someday it might make her a target, and he wasn’t about to ever do that.
Secret Page 4
