Beyond Control

by Kat Martin

  The audience shifted and mumbled.

  “Late last night evidence surfaced linking Damon Bridger to the brutal kidnapping and murder of Patricia Daniels, as well as the kidnapping, assault, and attempted murder of Lisa Shane.”

  The courtroom erupted in complete pandemonium. The judge sharply rapped the gavel and eventually everyone quieted.

  Tory felt Josh’s hand tighten around hers. Her heart was squeezing. She had always believed Damon was guilty.

  “Under the circumstances and considering the testimony Ms. Bradford gave that she incited the horse to violence as a means of self-defense, the court has decided, with certain safety precautions which must be agreed on, the life of the stallion, Satan’s Star, shall be spared.”

  He rapped the gavel. “Case dismissed.”

  The courthouse went wild. Tory threw her arms around Josh’s neck and just hung on. She might not be there to see the great colts the stallion would produce, but the magnificent horse would live.

  She smiled through her tears. It was enough.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  It was evening, one of Josh’s favorite times of day. Supper was over. The ranch had settled into a quiet peace.

  Taking extra care, he showered and shaved, dressed in a white western shirt and a pair of dark blue jeans, pulled on his good boots, and headed over to the trailer. Ivy would be asleep by now. It was time to have that talk with Tory he had been putting off far too long.

  As he walked up on the porch, he took a deep breath. He wished he’d gone to town and bought some flowers, maybe a bottle of champagne.

  Tonight wasn’t going to be an official proposal—he wanted to do that right. But he needed to clear the air, get his feelings out in the open, let Tory know his intentions.

  Pray she felt the same way he did.

  Even if she did, ranch life wasn’t easy. Maybe she’d want to go back to the city, return to the more sophisticated life she’d led before. His stomach churned with nerves.

  He knocked, waited a moment, then turned the knob, and stepped into the living room. They’d done away with formality a long time ago. Tory was just coming out of her bedroom. She was wearing a short cotton nightgown with tiny sprigs of lilac scattered over the front, her legs and feet bare, her fiery hair a halo of curls around her shoulders.

  She always looked so damned pretty, always made him want her. Tonight he wanted more from her than just her sweet little body. Tonight he wanted her heart.

  Her eyes widened when she saw him. Something shifted in her features before it disappeared. “Are you . . . are you going out?”

  He frowned. “Hell, no. Why would I want to go out when the prettiest girl in Howler County is standing right here?”

  “You’re all dressed up. I just thought . . .”

  “Clean jeans and a white shirt isn’t exactly a tuxedo.”

  She smiled. “I guess not. So what’s the occasion?”

  “It’s a nice night. I thought we might sit outside for a while and talk.”

  Her smile faded and she glanced away. In the moonlight, her lips trembled, and the knot returned to his stomach.

  She sat down on the bench beside the door and Josh sat down beside her. He could hear crickets chirping in the grass, and the barn owl was hooting again.

  “I’ve been thinking,” he said, trying to figure where to start. “This trailer . . . eventually the ranch will need a couple more hands. The trailer might make a good bunkhouse.”

  He was shocked when her eyes welled with tears.

  “I know this must be hard for you,” she said. “You don’t have to worry, Josh. It’s okay. We can be honest with each other. I know it’s time for me to go. Now that Damon is no longer a threat, there’s no need for me to stay. I can finish out the week and—”

  “Wait a minute! I don’t want you to leave! I want you and Ivy to stay. I want you to move out of the trailer into my house. This whole thing . . . having two places. It doesn’t make any sense.”

  She just shook her head. “I can’t do it, Josh. I can’t handle it anymore. When I was in town yesterday, I looked at apartments. I found one I think will work. I’d like to stay in Iron Springs . . . if . . . if it isn’t a problem for you. It’s a great little town, a good place to raise Ivy, if—”

  He caught her shoulders to silence her words, feeling as if someone had stabbed a hot poker into the wound in his chest. He was making a mess of this. He had to fix it—before it was too late.

  “I’m getting this all wrong. I’m trying to tell you how I feel, but I’m not good at this kind of thing.”

  He glanced away, took a shaky breath, and turned back. “That day you and Ivy showed up in front of my barn, I didn’t know what to think. I saw you as a burden. You know—a woman with a kid? A woman on the run from trouble? You didn’t figure into my plans. I thought you were the kind of problem I didn’t need.”

  He caught her chin with the tip of his finger, forcing her to look at him. “But you were never a burden, Tory. You were a gift. I’m thankful every day to have you here.”

  The tears in her eyes spilled onto her cheeks. “I can’t just be your friend, Josh. Not anymore.”

  He cupped her face in his hands. “Don’t you understand, baby? You aren’t just my friend. You’re my heart, Tory.” He kissed her then, feeling desperate, trying to show her how he felt when his words didn’t seem to be enough.

  He kissed her and kissed her and didn’t stop until he felt her body soften, her arms slide up around his neck, and she kissed him back the way he was kissing her.

  Josh eased away. “I need to know, baby. Do you love me? That’s what it comes down to. Because I love the hell out of you.”

  Her lips trembled. Her hand came up to his cheek. “Josh . . .” Fresh tears welled. “I love you so much.”

  Relief made his muscles feel weak. “Enough to marry me?”

  The tears in her eyes rolled down her cheeks but she was smiling. “I love you. I love everything about you. I’ll marry you anytime you say.”

  Josh blew out a breath, his worry slipping away. “Okay, then. We’re getting married.”

  Tory threw her arms around his neck. Even the twinge of pain that shot down his side couldn’t wipe the smile off his face.

  Epilogue

  Four Months Later

  The late October day broke clear and bright. Yesterday’s storm had cooled the grasslands. Dressed in a dark blue pencil skirt, yellow print blouse, and a pair of navy sandals, Tory was returning home from church with Josh and Ivy.

  They’d taken Clara Thompson with them, then left Ivy with her for a few hours in the afternoon. Tory and Josh were going out riding, taking new photos of the ranch for the website, pictures of some of the new horses he had purchased, as well as more shots of the lush green landscape, ponds, and the river that ran along the northern border.

  Tory was really looking forward to the outing.

  She changed into a pair of jeans and a lightweight sweater, then went in and made a picnic lunch, adding a nice bottle of white wine.

  A lot had happened in the last four months. It turned out the ballistics from Damon’s .45 caliber pistol had matched the bullet taken from Lisa’s back, which had given the police all sorts of new information.

  Izzy Watkins had been arrested on charges of aiding and abetting. Izzy had admitted he had lied about Damon’s alibi, that he hadn’t been with Damon the night Lisa had been abducted.

  He’d also admitted to helping Damon acquire false identification, been complicit in hiring motorcycle vandals to destroy private property, and committed identity theft. Izzy’s lawyers had managed to cut a not-so-great deal that would put him in prison for at least the next few years.

  Though Lisa’s memory of the terrible days after her abduction had never returned, the cabin Damon had used to hold her prisoner had finally been found. The property was still in the name of Damon’s deceased mother’s father, who suffered from Alzheimer’s and lived in a retirement home,
the reason finding the property had been so difficult.

  All kinds of evidence had turned up in the basement. CSIs really knew their stuff.

  With Montgomery Bridger such an important man in Phoenix, a lot had been written and broadcast about his son. According to local area shrinks, Damon Bridger was a man on the edge who had been sliding further and further toward the dark world of a serial killer.

  There was nothing in his past to explain it. Apparently, sometimes it just happened. They didn’t know what had turned him into the sadistic killer he had become, but if he hadn’t been stopped, it would only have been a matter of time before he tortured and killed again.

  Tory shuddered to think that if it hadn’t been for Star, she would likely have been his next victim.

  Another interesting event had occurred. According to FBI agent Quinn Taggart, the billionaire terrorist from Houston, Jamal Nawabi, had been killed in prison. His Middle East connections had at last come to an end.

  A lot of people felt a whole lot safer.

  “You ready to go?” Josh led Thor and Rosebud up to the front porch. In his faded jeans, boots, a snug T-shirt stretching over his gorgeous muscles, and a battered straw cowboy hat, the man was total eye candy, a sight Tory never grew tired of.

  She handed him the lunch she’d prepared and Josh stuffed it into Thor’s saddlebag. “You bring a blanket?” The hot gleam in his eyes made her stomach float up.

  “I’ve got it ready to go. I just need to grab it.” No way would she have forgotten. She ran back in and got the rolled-up blanket, which Josh tied behind Rose’s saddle.

  “The crew will be starting again in the morning,” he said. He was remodeling the kitchen and bathrooms, determined to fix the house up the way he thought she would want it. He’d bought her a sweet compact SUV as a wedding gift and Ivy now had a little spotted puppy.

  Tory didn’t really need anything as long as she was with Josh.

  They had been married two months, the best two months of her life. As he grabbed her, hauled her close, and very thoroughly kissed her, she thought he felt the same.

  “Kitchen’s almost finished,” she said. “I can’t wait to see how it turns out.”

  He grinned. “No more burnt chicken.”

  “Absolutely not.” She swung up on Rosebud at the same time Josh swung up on Thor. He looked at her with those beautiful blue eyes and everything inside her settled.

  “You ready?” The buckskin danced beneath him.

  Tory grinned. “I’ll race you to the gate.” She laughed as Rosebud leaped forward, hooves thundering, leaving her cowboy husband behind.

  But not for long.

  Have you read all of Kat Martin’s Texas Trilogy?

  Read on for excerpts from Beyond Reason and Beyond Danger, available now!

  BEYOND REASON

  New York Times bestselling author Kat Martin raises chills as danger stalks a woman determined to make it in a man’s world . . .

  Five weeks ago Carly Drake stood at her grandfather’s grave. Now she’s burying Drake Trucking’s top driver, and the cops have no leads on the hijacking or murder. Faced with bankruptcy, phone threats, and the fear of failure, Carly has to team up with the last man she wants to owe—Lincoln Cain.

  Cain is magnetic, powerful, controlling—and hiding more than one secret. He promised Carly’s granddad he’d protect her. The old man took a chance on him when he was nothing but a kid with a record, and now he’s the multimillionaire owner of a rival firm.

  But Linc’s money can’t protect Carly from the men who’ll do anything to shut her down, or the secrets behind Drake Trucking. If she won’t sell out, the only way to keep her safe is to keep her close . . . and fight like hell.

  Iron Springs, Texas

  For the second time since her return to Iron Springs, Carly Drake stood in a graveyard. A harsh Texas wind whipped the blades of grass around her legs as she waited in front of the rose-draped casket.

  Between the rows of granite headstones, the Hernandez family huddled together, a wife weeping for her husband, children crying for their father.

  Carly stood with her head bowed, her heart aching for the loss of a man she had known only briefly. Still mourning her grandfather’s recent passing, she understood the pain Miguel’s family was feeling. Joe Drake, the man who had raised her, the only father Carly had ever known, had died just five weeks ago.

  But unlike her grandfather, whose heart had simply worn itself out, Joe Drake’s number one driver had been shot in the head, and the criminals who had committed the truck hijacking were still on the loose.

  In the weeks since her grandfather’s death, Carly had been doing her best to run Drake Trucking, to keep the company afloat and its employees’ checks paid. She was doing the best she knew how, but Miguel had been killed on her watch and Carly felt responsible.

  The wind kicked up. The end-of-September weather was fickle, hot and humid one day, rainy and overcast the next. The breeze plucked fine blond strands from the tight bun fashioned at the nape of her neck. As she smoothed the hair back into place, her gaze came to rest on a man on the far side of the mourners, a head taller than Miguel’s Hispanic family, taller than most of the other men in the crowd, big and broad-shouldered, with dark brown hair and a strikingly handsome face.

  Carly leaned over and spoke quietly to the woman beside her, Brittany Haworth, a willowy brunette who had been her best friend in high school, a friendship that had resumed the day Carly had returned to Iron Springs, as if they had been apart just days instead of years.

  “That man across from us,” Carly said. “The tall one? He was also at Joe’s funeral service. I remember him going through the line to pay his respects, but I was so upset I barely paid attention. Do you know who he is?”

  Brittany, a little shorter than Carly’s five foot seven inches, looked up at her. “You’re kidding, right? You don’t recognize him? Obviously, you don’t read the gossip rags. He’s in the newspapers all the time. That’s Lincoln Cain. You know, the multimillionaire?”

  Carly’s gaze went across the casket on the mound above the grave to the big man in the perfectly tailored black suit and crisp white shirt. “That’s Cain?”

  As if he could feel her watching him, his eyes swung to hers, remained steady on her face. Carly couldn’t seem to look away. There was power in that bold, dark gaze. She could actually feel her pulse accelerate. “So what’s Cain doing in Iron Springs?”

  “He owns a ranch here. He was born in Pleasant Hill, left to make his fortune, came back a few years ago mega-rich. It’s a fascinating story. You’ll have to Google him sometime.”

  “I still don’t understand why he was at Grandpa Joe’s funeral, or why he’s here today.”

  “For one thing, he was Joe’s competition. Texas American Transport is one of the biggest trucking companies in the world.”

  She nodded. “TexAm Transportation. I know that, but—”

  “Cain credits Joe Drake as one of the people who put him on the path to success. The Iron Springs Gazette published a couple of articles about him and Joe.”

  Guilt swept over her. She’d been away so much. Off to college at the U of Texas in Austin ten years ago, which her grandfather had paid for, then a job in Houston as a flight attendant.

  She had always wanted to see the world so instead of coming home to help Grandpa Joe, she’d gone to work for Delta. She’d been transferred here and there, worked out of New York for a while, came back to Iron Springs a couple of times a year, but her visits never lasted more than a few days; then she was gone again, flying somewhere else, off on another adventure.

  Five weeks ago, she’d quit her job, given up her apartment in Seattle, and come home to stay. Joe’s heart condition had worsened. She’d started worrying about him, decided to come back and help him run Drake Trucking, take over some of the responsibilities and lessen the stress he was under.

  She’d only been in Iron Springs a week when Joe had suffered a massive heart a
ttack. He’d died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. By the time she’d received the call, rushed out of the office, and driven like a maniac to Iron Springs Memorial, Joe was gone.

  She hadn’t been there for him when he needed her.

  Just as she had so many times before, Carly had failed him.

  “Carly . . .”

  She glanced up at the sound of Brittany’s voice. The service had ended, the mourners breaking up, people walking away.

  “He’s coming over,” Britt whispered. “Lincoln Cain.”

  Carly homed in on him, about six-five, a man impossible to miss. She straightened as Cain approached.

  “Ms. Drake? I’m Lincoln Cain.” He extended a big hand and she set hers in it, felt a warm, comforting spread of heat. Since being comforted only made her feel like crying, she eased her hand away.

  “We met briefly at your grandfather’s service,” Cain said, “but I doubt you recall.”

  His eyes weren’t brown, she realized, but a sort of dark gold. He had a slight cleft in his chin and a jaw that looked carved in stone. “Yes, I remember seeing you there. I don’t recall much else. It was a very bad day.”

  “Yes, it was.”

  She turned. “This is my friend Brittany Haworth.”

  He gave a faint nod of his head. “Ms. Haworth.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Britt said. She’d always been shy. The way she was looking at Cain, as if the sexiest man alive had just dropped by for a visit, Carly was surprised her friend was able to speak.

  Cain’s gaze returned to Carly. “I realize how difficult it must be, going through all of this again so soon. Once more you have my condolences.”

  “Thank you. It’s been difficult. But my grandfather lived a long, full life. I can only imagine how painful this has been for Miguel’s family.”