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

by Jean Brashear

  Chapter Thirteen

  Case hadn’t gone straight to the deer lease. He’d spent a long day just driving, trying to outrun his thoughts.

  Then he’d spent the night trying to drown them when driving hadn’t worked. He didn’t want to admit how much it hurt to discover that Sammie had felt nothing for him—had instead played him for a fool.

  The devil had gotten his due. The seducer had become the seduced.

  He’d thought he’d long outgrown his gonads overwhelming his brain, but he could have been eighteen again, for all the sense he’d shown.

  Long after the rage fled, a weary acceptance settled in his bones. He should have known she couldn’t have wanted a man whose life had been one failure after another.

  Bad enough that he’d never been able to earn his father’s acceptance. He’d also refused to come home until it was too late, too proud to try one more time.

  Then there was the ranch he was so close to losing, the trucking business that was all but gone because he hadn’t seen Roland’s treachery coming.

  Too many failures…and this one the most painful of all. How could he have let himself believe for one minute that someone from Sammie’s high-class life would find anything to want in his?

  At last he pulled into the deer lease, gearing himself up to call in for another run—

  Only his truck had been vandalized, the window smashed and the contents rifled. Who would—

  Now that his rage had died down some, he could picture those bastards grabbing Sammie, roughing her up…

  If Sammie had been part of Roland fleecing him…

  Suddenly he could see more clearly how she’d looked when he’d accused her of being involved with Roland. What had she said?

  It’s not like you think…

  Something was very wrong.

  And he didn’t have enough pieces of the puzzle to see the big picture.

  The memory of her terror rose again. Made him curse her for her silence.

  And curse himself for losing his temper and leaving without asking questions.

  If she was in trouble, why hadn’t she gone to the police? He opened the cab door and surveyed the damage. His gaze went to the compartment where he kept his registration papers.

  And his blood ran cold.

  If those bastards who tried to hurt Sammie were responsible for this, they knew who she’d been with and where to go next.

  No matter that she’d lied to him, he couldn’t let them get at her again.

  Had to protect all those he loved.

  He tried his cell and cursed the lack of coverage in this part of the state. Mostly he liked the remoteness—but not now, not when his gut was churning.

  He got back in his pickup and jammed the accelerator to the floor.

  Case came bursting in the back door of his house. He’d already called from the road and heard the bad news.

  Sammie was gone.

  And no one knew where she’d headed.

  He’d had miles and miles for his guts to twist, for his heart to ache.

  Even murderers got a day in court. Sammie had been the closest thing to happiness he’d ever known, and he hadn’t even given her the courtesy of a hearing. He’d ordered her out of his house. Out of his life.

  And into what?

  There was no mistaking her terror when he no longer had a red film of rage over his eyes. He remembered so many things: how frightened she’d seemed at the truck stop, how reluctantly she’d accepted first his presence and then his help. The way that creep had mauled her, had used his big meaty fists to grope her, to hurt her.

  He wanted to hit something, but what most needed hitting was himself.

  As he looked around the room, Linnie Mae’s eyes were red, the children were crying.

  “Where’s Ralph?” He felt like an idiot. Who cared where Ralph was? Where’s Sammie? was what he really wanted to know.

  Wiley glared. “Hell, Case, I don’t know.”

  Things were really bad if Wiley was swearing.

  Case sat down heavily. Might as well take his lumps. But not for long—he had to get out of here and find Sammie. “Get it over with, Wiley. I know I’ve been a total ass. Go ahead and lay it on me.”

  “I can’t do near the job you’re gonna do on yourself when you hear the whole story, Case. That girl is in danger, big danger, and you just drove her out on her own to face it. I hope you’re proud of yourself, you hot-headed son of a—” Case had never heard him angry like this. “What danger? She was lying about the boyfriend, wasn’t she?”

  “Boyfriend? What boyfriend?”

  “She told me those guys who tried to kidnap her were sent by a jealous boyfriend who wanted to keep her to himself.” The look that crossed Wiley’s face was all he needed. “Then what’s going on?”

  Wiley shook his head. “I guess that’s what she was talking about when she said she was sorry she’d had to lie to you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Linnie Mae spoke up. “Case, Sammie’s from New Orleans. She worked for a bank there—well, you know that, I guess, after what you said to her.”

  Case nodded, too weary to speak up.

  “She got a strange note from Roland, telling her to look into some loan files at the bank. Yours was one of them, but she never knew that. Your name wasn’t the one on it.”

  Case frowned.

  “She noticed irregularities in the files. All of the loans were made for more than the collateral the bank held.”

  Just like his, only he hadn’t known it until the bank came to take back the trucks once Roland split and Case realized that he hadn’t been making payments. By then, there’d been no way to catch up.

  Linnie Mae continued, “They were all made by the same loan officer at Restoration Bank. About that time, her attention was drawn to an account of Roland’s on which Sammie had signatory powers. It had been cleaned out. She discovered Roland had disappeared, leaving word with no one. She started checking around.”

  Case’s attention was riveted on Linnie Mae.

  “She came to the conclusion that Roland had been blackmailing the bank officer. She found deposits in his account to coincide with dates on which the loans had been funded. The bank vice-president would make the bogus loan, pocket the surplus, and hand some of it to Roland.”

  Case whistled. So they hadn’t been the only ones Roland had fleeced.

  “Sammie’s checking around drew some attention, and she started having things happen—tires slashed, mail opened, strange calls. The banker was in league with a mobster named Gascoigne. She got a warning threatening her family if she didn’t stop poking around.”

  Case tensed. “So what happened?”

  “What happened, you damn fool,” Wiley’s tone was thunderous, “was that Sammie was attacked in her own apartment.”

  A murderous rage grew in Case as Wiley related the details of the attack upon Sammie. Probably the same bastard who pawed her at the truck stop. Case wished he’d killed him, now more than ever. He thought of her nightmare in the truck—how terrified she’d been, how she hadn’t wanted to be touched. He recalled the nightmare that had brought him to her bed.

  He wanted to grind the bastard’s face into a pulp with his fists. Killing was too good for him; he wanted the creep to suffer for a long time.

  He welcomed the fury. If he let it take over, he wouldn’t have to feel the awful, twisting anguish of knowing that he’d condemned her to more terror by never even giving her a chance to explain.

  Bleakness invaded his heart. “That’s why she was running when I found her, wasn’t it?”

  Wiley nodded.

  “And it was just coincidence that we ever met.”

  “That’s about the size of it. She had gone to San Angelo looking for him because of a postmark. After that, she was heading for Dallas, thinking she could get lost there—but her car broke down.”

  “But why, Wiley?” Case barely whispered now. “Why wouldn’t she tell me? I asked, ove
r and over. I knew something was wrong. Instead, she lied to me. Why not let me help?”

  “They threatened the lives of her family if she told anyone at all. After what they’d done to her, what choice did she have but to believe them? She felt like she had no one to turn to.”

  “That’s why she was afraid of the police—not because she was in it with Roland, but because they’d threatened her family.”

  Linnie Mae spoke up. “That’s why she’s gone, too, Case. She’s afraid for us, after the fire.”

  Case’s head rose swiftly. “Fire? What fire?”

  “The shed behind the barn,” Wiley said. “You couldn’t smell the ashes when you drove up?”

  Case shook his head. “I only had Sammie on my mind. What happened?”

  Just then, Ralph walked in the back door. Everyone looked up.

  Wiley continued, “You should have seen her, Case. She rescued Comanche from the barn bareback, with only a rope, for God’s sake. She faced up to that mean sonofagun lashing out with his hooves. He was trying to kick out his stall door, and she barreled up on top of him and rode him out of the barn, while he tried to throw her all the way. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Wiley shook his head at the memory.

  Case couldn’t take it all in. “Comanche? She rode Comanche—bareback? With only a rope?”

  Everyone started talking at once, trying to tell the story. Finally, Case waved for silence, his hand raking through his hair.

  “She was scared half to death. She didn’t stop shaking for half an hour afterwards, but by golly, she brought that mean sumbitch out of there.” Wiley’s voice rang with pride.

  “After we put the fire out and everyone else went to bed was when she told Wiley what had happened,” Linnie Mae said. “She wanted you to know that she was innocent.” Her voice was tight with accusation.

  Damn. He couldn’t get past the image of Sammie perched on Comanche’s back. Wonder quickly melted away into shame as he remembered what he’d done. He sure didn’t deserve her now—

  But he was going after her, anyway.

  If only he could figure out where she was.

  He looked at Wiley. “So she left because she thought it was them?”

  Wiley nodded. “Ralph here found a can of kerosene that shouldn’t have been there, and she was here when he told me about it. I bet you money that’s when she decided to leave. We’d begged her to hang around, told her that you’d cool off and we’d all back her. She’d seemed inclined to do that—until she heard about the can. She didn’t say she was leaving, and I thought I’d put her at ease, but I guess I failed.”

  Case buried his head in his hands, slumped at the table. “If you’d seen those thugs, you’d know why she was afraid. She wouldn’t want to endanger any of us. They’re scum and vicious. They’d do anything.” He exhaled. “She’s probably right that they started the fire. I found my truck vandalized. I’m guessing they followed her from the registration information. She’s in danger, Wiley, big danger. I wish to God I knew where she was headed.”

  Despair blanketed the room.

  Then Ralph spoke up. “I do.”

  Everyone stared. He shifted nervously from one foot to the other. “She asked me not to tell, but she had to talk to someone ’cause she needed a ride to town. I don’t know why she picked me.”

  “She always had a soft spot for you, Ralph, when the others were razzing you,” Linnie Mae offered.

  “Maybe so.”

  “I don’t give a good goddamn why,” Case bellowed. He rose, towering over the younger man. “Where the hell is she?”

  “She made me promise not to tell, but she didn’t tell me about those men. She just said that you were really mad and she had to go. I said I wouldn’t tell because she deserves better from you, Case. I wanted to kick your ass myself. But if she’s in danger—”

  “Ralph, you’ve got about two seconds.”

  “I’m not doing this for you.” Ralph glared, then sighed. “She’s on a bus to New Orleans.”

  Case’s heart sank. She was going back into the belly of the beast.

  He shouldn’t be surprised. She was feisty, she had spunk—if she’d brave Comanche, she had more courage than most grown men. She’d held onto a dangerous secret, refused to buckle even when her jeopardy was extreme.

  He couldn’t let her face this alone.

  If he had to comb the planet, he’d find her and face it with her. Thank God he knew where she was headed—but New Orleans was a big place.

  “Linnie Mae, can you find out the bus schedule and the route for me? Ralph, follow me and tell me everything you can remember about what she intends to do.” He headed upstairs to throw some clothes together. No telling how long he might be gone.

  He wasn’t coming back without her.

  Ralph knew very little more, but thank God he’d forced Sammie to tell him where she was going. Case said a silent thanks that Ralph hadn’t just let her disappear. The kid had a place here as long as he wanted it.

  Case had lived in New Orleans once; he’d call Joe from the road and find out more about Sammie’s family. He doubted, from what he’d heard, that she’d go to them, but he had to start somewhere. He’d swallow his pride and call his cousin Quinn, who’d been a detective in Houston, and ask for advice.

  Or maybe not. Cops stuck together, and now that he knew she’d been warned not to contact the police…

  He’d save that and try it on his own first. He had a good source himself in New Orleans, his club owner friend, Bullhorn Robicheaux. Bullhorn skated just this side of the line and had ties on the other side.

  Sammie didn’t have anything but what was in her purse, since they’d had to abandon her car. Surely she wouldn’t risk letting the mob know she was back by trying to retrieve anything from her place. Maybe she was with a friend. Maybe her family could help him with that.

  He thundered down the stairs and headed for his pickup, pausing just long enough to accept the food and coffee Linnie Mae had packed for him and to get the bus information. He knelt before the kids and hugged each one, extracting solemn promises that they’d help out their grandmother, in exchange for his own promise that he’d make sure Sammie was safe. He hoped to God he wasn’t lying.

  He rose and shook hands with Ralph. “Thank you. You did the right thing, telling me.”

  Linnie Mae wrapped her arms around him, tears in her eyes. “You stay in touch, you hear? And you stay safe.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  Then it was time to face Wiley. The old man who’d been more a father than his own ever was shook his hand, then wrapped him in a hug. “Don’t beat yourself up too much over this, boy. I know you would have calmed down and listened to her if she’d been here when you got back. That hot head gets you into trouble, but you didn’t bring all this down on Sammie. She was grateful to you for all you’d done, and she was heartsick that someone in her family could have hurt you. She regretted more than anything that she’d made it worse by being too afraid to tell you the truth.”

  Case’s jaw clenched. “And my goddamn hot head sent her back into that hell. No way to duck that, Wiley. But I’m gonna find her—I swear to God I am.”

  Wiley’s eyes misted. He slapped Case on the shoulder. “That little gal is the best thing that ever happened to you, Case Marshall. You’ll take care of her, I know you will. Watch your back.”

  Case nodded, impatient to get on his way. When he backed out the pickup to turn it around, they were all standing on the back porch, waving and wishing him well.

  He whispered the first prayer he could remember saying in years.

  Please…let me find her.

  Let me keep her safe.

  And please…give me the chance to seek her forgiveness.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Clifford “Bullhorn” Brown had a body to match the voice from which his nickname was derived, standing a good six foot eight and almost as wide. Case didn’t often feel dwarfed, but he’d never mess with Bullhor
n. Even if the man didn’t move all that fast, his sheer bulk could still be deadly. Hell, just leaning on a man with that much weight would probably kill him.

  Bullhorn needed every bit of that size to compensate for the tender heart lodged inside. As the owner of one of the rowdiest clubs in New Orleans, he was often called upon to restore order. Usually too kind-hearted to act until the situation turned dire, the sheer intimidation of his colossal mahogany frame came in handy when patrons got too boisterous.

  His name was apt. No matter how loud the band, Bullhorn could be heard above it—okay, a little exaggeration but not that much. Case had been in the club more than once when everyone turned to hear what Bullhorn was yelling, even though the band was playing full blast.

  He was a good friend to have. Once Case got past the towering bulk to the equally large heart inside, he discovered that he could count on Bullhorn for many things: information, entertainment, a good game of chess…and silence.

  He needed two of those now.

  “Case, mon ami, viens ici!” People outside on the street turned to stare as the powerful voice rang out. Case stepped into the dark, dank club and smiled.

  “Quelle problème, boo? Some ‘tite ange send you home early last night? I didn’t think there was a woman alive who’d do dat, but you don’ look so good. Come on over here and let ol’ Bullhorn buy you a drink.”

  Another reminder that nothing had been the same since he’d met Sammie. He’d had the best poker face around before he’d met her.

  “No, thanks, Bullhorn. Now’s not the time for drinks.”

  “Hoo, boy! It must be serious—the Case Marshall I knew always had time for a drink.” Bullhorn smiled broadly.

  Case didn’t bother to argue. He had once lived hard and played hard, but Bullhorn knew better than anyone that Case never let his drinking get out of hand. Working as Bullhorn’s right hand man had meant always being alert and in control.

  He smiled wearily. He’d driven straight through, only stopping at bus stops along the way to ask questions and be sure Sammie had stayed on that route. Apparently she had; no one could remember seeing her get off once, except to change buses. They’d hardly noticed her at all, she’d been so quiet. But the driver on the last leg remembered seeing her staring out the window when they stopped. She’d been the last one to leave, and the driver said she’d seemed lost in thought. He remembered her because she’d looked so sad, so fragile. “She had those real good manners, you know? A real lady.”