The Marshalls Boxed Set (Texas Heroes: The Marshalls Books 1-3)

by Jean Brashear

  No restless wandering, no pondering what was over the next hill. Life here was too rich, too full, to care what lay over the horizon.

  There was meaning to this life unlike anything she’d ever experienced. She understood now why Quinn had not been tempted by the city. He’d been happy to leave Houston, and impatient to leave New York. She couldn’t blame him.

  She’d seen it in Grant, too. In his short years, he’d never been far from a game console or a TV. Yet here, he appeared to have forgotten they existed, happy as a lark to tread the acres, tagging along by Quinn’s side.

  He’d learned to fish and ride horses, to dig in the dirt. He’d learned responsibility, too. Quinn hadn’t coddled him; he’d given him chores, wisely understanding the pride it built. Grant was more relaxed now. His eyes sparkled. He woke each new day, eager to see what was in store.

  And he loved Quinn, utterly and absolutely. Quinn gave him something Lorie had never been able to provide.

  He was teaching Grant how to grow up to be a man. Not a macho, strutting creature, but a good man. A Quinn Marshall kind of man—strong, solid, intelligent…a man you could count on.

  Her arms tightened again as she reveled in the feel of him. When she’d first laid eyes on him, she’d compared him to a panther. Even knowing him better, the comparison was apt. Strong, sleek, charismatic…a dark, muscled surface with coiled intensity beneath. Deep wells of unknown currents…fire always banked and ready to flare.

  She shivered at how much he could make her want him.

  Grant sobbed from upstairs. Quinn stirred and raised his head. “Stay…” he murmured. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to go to him.” The vulnerability in his eyes made her nod her head.

  He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be back,” he said, with that slow, sexy smile. “Keep my place warm.”

  She smiled back, her heart breaking. Topaz eyes searched her face. He parted his lips to speak, then turned away and pulled on his jeans.

  She heard him go up the stairs and curled on her side, hugging his pillow and breathing in his scent. She heard their voices above, and suddenly she didn’t want to be alone this last night.

  She pulled on a robe and climbed the stairs, hearing Grant crying and Quinn’s deep reassurance. As she neared the door, Grant’s words reached her, and she halted, an ache burgeoning in her heart.

  “But why do we have to go, Quinn? I don’t want to leave you.” Grant sniffled and burrowed closer into Quinn’s arms.

  Through the partially-opened door, she could see Quinn’s expression as he cradled Grant and rocked him slowly. She remembered the feeling of safety in those arms at a time when she’d been desperately in need. She felt safe there, still.

  Quinn’s voice was hoarse as he answered. “Grant, I wish you didn’t have to go, either, but your mom has worked hard to succeed in her career. I don’t expect you to understand this, but take my word for it. It wouldn’t be fair to ask her to give it up. She’s very special, and she deserves the best.”

  “But you are the best, Quinn! This place is the best!”

  Pain shadowed Quinn’s face as he replied. “It’s just a simple place, Grant. I can’t give your mom all the things she deserves. I can’t give you a big apartment in the city, or museums, or Central Park. All I can give your mom is a cabin and some ranchland, and she deserves better than that.”

  A long silence ensued. Grant’s sobs nearly broke her heart.

  “Will you come visit me, Quinn?” Defeat weighted his voice.

  She leaned heavily against the doorway. Had it come down to this, only visits? The whole of her barren life stretched before her. She had Grant now, but she wouldn’t always. And how would Grant survive Quinn’s coming and the pain of his leaving each time?

  She waited, like Grant, for his answer.

  She saw the agony in Quinn’s eyes. Grant threw his arms around Quinn’s neck and squeezed. “Please, Quinn, please tell her you want her to stay. She’d do it, I know she would.” He wiped at his tears, and Quinn reached in his pocket for a handkerchief, tenderly wiping his nose. Grant hiccupped a sob and tried once more. “Don’t you want us, Quinn?”

  Lorie watched Quinn’s face closely for his response. Sorrow blanketed his features, and the light dimmed in those beautiful eyes.

  He dropped his head, and that’s when she saw the tear fall.

  “I want you too much,” he whispered. “But I’m not what you need.”

  Her heart fluttering, terrified and elated at the same time, Lorie pushed the door open. They both turned to look. She crossed the room, her gaze never leaving Quinn’s. Reaching out slowly to catch that one precious tear with her fingertip, she raised it to her lips. She carried a kiss back to him and pressed it against his mouth. He gazed at her solemnly, his heart in those topaz eyes.

  “I’m with you, Grant,” she said softly, still looking at Quinn. “If he wants us, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than here with Quinn.”

  “Lorie—” his deep voice protested. “You’re a star. You’d have to give up too much.”

  “There has to be some compromise.”

  “I can’t see one. I could live in the city, be cop again, but…”

  She’d seen the toll on him. Understood how he belonged to this land. “I’ve been thinking a lot about my life, the cost of it. What happened with Marsden…that’s all on me. My vanity, my ambition…this isn’t who I ever thought I’d be, but it took a madman to make me see it.”

  “It’s not all on you. He’s insane. He made choices. You are a superb actress.”

  “Maybe. Mostly I’m a professional pretty girl. It’s what I knew, growing up.” She sat down beside him. “Please don’t laugh, but delivering that baby…I’ve never felt anything so amazing.” She chuckled. “Even though I was scared stiff.”

  “They’re both doing fine. You should be proud.”

  She looked at him. Stroked Grant’s hair. “That’s just it, you see. I am proud. What I do most days…it doesn’t mean anything. Nobody’s life depends on it, no precious child is brought into this world. At best, I provide some escape, a distraction from real life.”

  She turned to face him, clasped his hand. “Being with you here, seeing how Grant has blossomed…getting to see Consuela in action, the difference she makes, with no thought to acclaim or riches…how can strutting around in makeup and fancy clothes playing pretend possibly measure up?”

  She saw hope spark in his eyes. “But—”

  “But nothing. You’re my sun and my stars, Quinn Marshall. I’d be giving up nothing. I’ve never been so happy as I’ve been here with you. The life I’ve led has had glamour, but it’s missing all the richness that I’ve found here.”

  She leaned into him, longing to be part of their magic circle. She rested her head on his shoulder and stroked Grant’s dear face.

  “I want to do something important with my life. I want to be more than pretty. I can do that here with you.” She pressed a kiss over his heart, then sat up. Faced him, hiding nothing.

  “Please, Quinn, ask us to stay.”

  His longing blazed from his eyes, but he didn’t speak.

  Grant bounced to his knees on the bed. “You want us to stay, right, Quinn? You said you want us, didn’t you?”

  Quinn bundled him close. Closed his big hand over hers. “I’ve never wanted anything more.” He kissed her fingers. “Please…stay. For the rest of your life.”

  Epilogue

  Six months later

  Lorie sat on the steps of the porch, hugging her secret to her, stifling the urge to laugh in delight. She saw Grant and Consuela walking down the road toward her. Grant zigzagged a path around Consuela, his usual boundless curiosity at work. Perhaps Consuela would have a few minutes to consult with her on the progress of her own herb garden.

  Happiness bubbled up inside as she contemplated the joy of telling Quinn her news. Too bad she wouldn’t be able to put her midwife training to work on herself. She hoped Consu
ela would do the honors.

  “Penny for your thoughts, beautiful.”

  She jolted at Quinn’s voice. The smile in her heart matched the one on his face as he tipped his Stetson back and unbuttoned his jacket.

  “I thought you wouldn’t be back from hunting until dark.”

  He grinned and shrugged. “Tenderfoot city boys—what can I say?” He looked at her steadily. “Besides, I had a feeling that you needed me.”

  She flew off the steps and into his arms. “I always need you.” He whirled her around and she laughed aloud.

  “So what’s got those pretty blue eyes all lit up, Mrs. Marshall?”

  “A secret.”

  His eyebrows rose. “A secret, eh? Hmm…it’s not my birthday, and Christmas is still a ways off, so…what is it?”

  “Well, you’re the psychic. You tell me.”

  He didn’t frown as he once would have, more at peace these days with an ability he no longer rejected. For a moment he stood very still, then a grin spread broadly across that handsome face.

  “I think it’s gonna be a girl, and I hope she looks just like you.”

  “You said you couldn’t read my mind!”

  He took her in his arms and rocked her slowly.

  “I can’t, sweet love…but thanks to you, I can dream.”

  ~THE END~

  Texas Star

  Texas Heroes: The Marshalls

  Book Two

  Jean Brashear

  Sexiest Man Alive Josh Marshall is on his way home to Texas when he rescues a woman on the run. In contrast to the many women crushing on him all over the world, this woman does not trust him and wants nothing to do with him, seeking to escape every time his back is turned.

  Elena Navarro is running from an abusive husband with criminal ties. Terrified to trust anyone, she finds Josh’s tender care a miracle, but his fame could be a death sentence for them both. When echoes of a shared past life threaten, Josh questions his sanity, but he’s a white knight to the core and cannot stop trying to help her, even at the risk of his life.

  Prologue

  “You sacrificed your life for love in ancient days,” the old woman intoned. “Your soulmate is alive in this time and needs you once more.” Her dark eyes burned into him. “She is in grave danger.”

  Film star Josh Marshall blinked. Choked down a laugh. Great party idea, Babette, he silently saluted his hostess. Scanning the celebrity-studded room for the curvaceous redheaded starlet, he paused. “Um…thanks. Now if you’ll excuse me…?”

  The old woman didn’t release his hand until he met her gaze again. “You do not believe,” she said. “But you will.”

  He didn’t want to be rude, but he’d had enough. Sure, his family tree was rife with those who walked in realms most people didn’t believe existed—his own brother Quinn had formidable psychic powers which had saved more than one life—but he wasn’t among them. He was a realist, grounded firmly in the here and now. Almost nothing in Hollywood was real, so it was up to him to keep his feet firmly planted.

  “I have to leave now. Do you…?” He reached into his pocket for his money clip.

  Dark eyes flashed displeasure. “Gadjo,” she all but spat. “Run from your fate, young one, but do not run away when your lady needs you.”

  Reclaiming his hand, he tugged at his cuffs under the black tux. He hadn’t been rude to her, despite the outrageous pronouncement, so why should he feel the need to apologize? Still he tried, for the sake of Tía Consuela, if no one else. “Look, it’s not that I—”

  But the old woman had already turned away.

  Tía Consuela would be shaking her head at him. Joshua Antonio Marshall, there will come a day when denial will no longer suffice.

  But this isn’t that day, he silently argued with the great-aunt who was his only living family besides his brother, the woman to whom he and Quinn owed so much.

  “Josh!” The aroma of Joy cast a cloud over the immediate area, the perfume slathered over the curves of the blonde now rubbing her generous cleavage against his arm. Josh sighed softly, wishing his most recent co-star, Maureen Adams, would attach herself to someone else.

  Except that the distraction was timely. “Hi, Mo.”

  Maureen pouted her collagen-enhanced lips prettily. “Josh, darling, you know I prefer to be called Monique.” She leaned into him so closely that he struggled to breathe, her breasts spilling alarmingly from their red spandex prison. What he couldn’t see of her nipples over the top, he could easily spot pointing through the fabric.

  He understood the pressures to be physically perfect, but sometimes he wondered if there were any women left in Hollywood who weren’t tucked and Botoxed and enhanced.

  My kingdom for a real woman, he thought. His brother had gotten the only one he’d ever met in his years in show business.

  “Had your palm read yet?”

  “A palm reader?” she squealed. “Where?”

  He pointed across the room, where Babette had set up a silken tent for the old woman. A crowd gathered nearby.

  “Ooh, Josh,” she breathed, shifting the enhanced mounds dangerously close to total exposure, “Let’s go see what she says.”

  “No, thanks.” He still felt the piercing black eyes boring into him. The old woman was surely a party trick, but she’d sought him out, not the reverse.

  He’d give her wide berth.

  “Well, if you’re sure…” Mo cooed, batting her eyelashes. She stood on tiptoe and whispered, “Josh, you still have my number, don’t you?” Not waiting for his answer, she swirled her soft pink tongue over his ear.

  He jerked back, glaring.

  “You know we were good together,” she pouted.

  True, to an extent. He did his damnedest to see that no woman ever left his bed in any state but totally satisfied, and Mo made it easy. Her voracious sexual appetite had been a lot of fun.

  But it wasn’t enough.

  He bent to kiss her on the cheek even as he gently peeled her body off his. “Yeah, we had some good times, baby.”

  “Being named Sexiest Man Alive going to your head, Josh?”

  He squirmed. The title was a mixed blessing—great promo, but… “It’s a lot to live up to.”

  She gazed at him from under her forest of lashes. “Not for you, handsome. I can testify to that,” she purred.

  After ten years as an actor, surviving everything including nude love scenes, Josh would have thought he’d have lost the ability to blush by now.

  Apparently not.

  He ducked his head. “Go away, Mo.”

  She brushed across his chest as she slithered away, sending him a tiny wave and licking her scarlet lips.

  Josh sighed. He looked around the glittering room, wondering how soon he could leave without making a problem for himself with Babette. You lived for this whole scene once, buddy—what’s the problem?

  Hell if he knew. Probably only fatigue. He’d just finished one round of promotional duties and was about to start a new picture. The Sexiest Man Alive thing had doubled the demand for his appearances. It was all he could do not to run screaming into the nearest cave.

  A shortage of caves in L.A., though.

  Maybe he’d go visit his brother and family before he had to start shooting. His agent said the producer was still working out last-minute financing details. He might have as much as a month before time to show up on the set. At twenty million a picture plus points, God knows he could afford to go anywhere, but somehow Quinn’s ranch perched on the rim of the Texas Caprock sounded just right.

  Not a soul for miles, clean air, quiet. Yeah, sounded good.

  Josh felt a prickle on the back of his neck as he headed across the crowded room toward the door, suddenly eager to call his brother. He turned to see what it was.

  The old woman’s dark eyes scorched him. He could read her lips across the room without hearing the words.

  She needs you. Plain as day.

  Josh shook his head, even as the deepest
part of his soul shivered.

  You have the wrong brother. This is me, Josh. The one who’s normal.

  Chapter One

  Elena Navarro Kruger shivered under the bridge on eastbound Interstate 10, just across the New Mexico border from Arizona. The sudden thunderstorm had caught her out in the open. She’d never hitchhiked anywhere before, but she’d never been a fugitive before, either.

  For the last seven years, she’d had her own driver, but that life was done.

  She felt so exposed out here on the highway, huddled against the concrete embankment, soaked through to the skin. The clothes she’d been wearing when she fled on this hasty, unplanned flight were all she had to her name.

  The spark of courage that had sent her running was fading, and she had no one to turn to. Her only friend was out of town, and she wouldn’t involve Carmen, regardless. Darkness pressed in, and terror rose. She could be picked up by anyone—someone cruel, someone twisted.

  But she’d already lived with that for seven years.

  And frankly, she’d rather die at the hands of a stranger than spend one more hour with Richard.

  Oh, how she wanted to live, though. For the first time since she was eighteen, she had a chance, if only she could find someone to believe her.

  Headlights neared, slowing. She glanced around frantically for better shelter, but there was none. She edged around the curve of concrete and went completely still, every muscle tensed for flight.

  “Hey, chica, want a ride?” An unmistakable leer tinged the man’s voice.

  A second voice piped up, “Yeah, baby, come on. We got plenty of room in here for you.”

  Her blood chilled. She scanned the road for help even as she replied in her most polite, frosty voice. “Thank you, but I’m waiting for my boyfriend. He’ll be here any second.”

  The driver’s door opened. A beefy silhouette emerged. “You can just wait with us inside. Stay dry.” But he stumbled on his way over, his words slurring. “It’s wet out here. Don’t make me chase you down.”

  The passenger door opened next, and her heart went into overdrive. She fumbled for the opening of her purse. Inside was a small kitchen knife she was woefully unprepared to use, but she hadn’t escaped Richard only to fall into the hands of someone else who might be even worse.