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

by Jean Brashear

  It would be naïve to think Gascoigne could ever be made to pay for all that had happened, Case knew. He’d never been visibly involved, probably orchestrating all of this from a safe distance. People like Gascoigne operated with impunity, their tentacles extending even into the law enforcement establishment.

  But Sammie surprised him with a challenge to Gascoigne. “I believe Uncle Roland’s claim that he had files hidden, to be released if anything happens to me.”

  Gascoigne sighed, acknowledging her point with a nod. “And, my dear, even if I am taken out of the picture, my friends can keep an eye on your family. We have long memories. Will you dare risk them by talking to the authorities?”

  Sammie studied him in silence.

  Finally she shook her head no.

  But Case bet she wouldn’t give up searching for an answer. Nor would he.

  “Then, as I told your valiant young man here, it appears that we are at an impasse. If you do not interfere with our Mr. Whitehead, we will not bother your family. You may continue your life as it was. A fair bargain, I think—live and let live. All we ever wanted was to be left alone to conduct our business in peace.”

  It was the best offer they could hope for, however much it stuck in his craw.

  Apparently Sammie recognized that, too. “With one condition first. You will have Whitehead erase Case’s debt to the bank.”

  Gascoigne waved a negligent hand. “Small change. Then, do we have an agreement?”

  Her jaw hardened. “All right, M’sieur Gascoigne. Live and let live.”

  At least for now, Case thought.

  Then Ray moaned and struggled to sit up as he returned to consciousness. Sparky kept his pistol trained between Ray and Gascoigne, waiting for a signal from Case.

  Case looked over at him. “Sparky, please escort Gascoigne and this scumbag out to their car and let them know where to find their sentry.” He jerked Ray to his feet. Ray groaned.

  He grabbed Ray by the shirtfront, yanking him up close, growling his demand. “Gascoigne, I don’t ever want this scum or any like him anywhere near Sammie—are we clear on that? Your bargain is with Sammie, not with me. I don’t give a damn about my note or what happens to her family, only that she is safe.” His words were directed at Gascoigne, but his menacing glare was aimed straight at Ray.

  “You are very arrogant, M’sieur Marshall. However, I have many other things to occupy my attention and that of my men. We will hear quickly enough if she has broken our agreement. Unless that happens, my men will remain otherwise occupied.”

  It would have to be enough, for the moment. As insurance, Case probed Ray’s gaze to make sure the man understood his intentions, waiting for an acknowledgment.

  Ray nodded, then jerked away, following Gascoigne out the door.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Case looked across Roland’s gravesite to discover Armand St. Claire studying him. He gazed back steadily, knowing his measure was being taken. He’d met Sammie’s father a few days before when he’d taken her home to her family, but the circumstances had hardly been ideal, given what they’d been asking her father to do.

  Case suspected the man didn’t like the stalemate with Gascoigne any better than he did, but St. Claire’s desire to avoid publicity worked in their favor. He’d agreed to go along with the story Case and Sammie had devised, that her uncle had been killed by Sammie’s kidnapper, who escaped without capture.

  The search for that kidnapper would be fruitless, Case was certain. Sammie had insisted to the police that she’d been blindfolded the whole time and could provide no helpful clues. Apparently Gascoigne had cleaned up the scene so thoroughly that they would have no evidence to go on.

  Case also suspected that Gascoigne had used his illegal ties to law enforcement to apply pressure from his end. When combined with Armand St. Claire’s political pull, the case wasn’t likely to receive serious follow-through. It suited everyone’s purposes to have Roland regarded as a hero, taking some of the tarnish off the reputation of a man who’d been a thorn in St. Claire’s side for years.

  All of which was fine with Case—until a wall had been thrown up between him and Sammie.

  He hadn’t seen her since that night he’d restored her to her family, however he’d tried. He wasn’t sure why he was even still in New Orleans, but when he’d called to let Wiley and Linnie Mae know what had happened, Wiley had encouraged him to remain a while longer. “A few days won’t make a difference, one way or the other, Case. Sammie needs you more.”

  Case had his doubts. She stood across a crowd of mourners, closed-off and remote, a beautiful china doll who bore no resemblance to the woman in pink Keds. Something had broken inside her, but he couldn’t get close enough to her to find out if he could fix whatever it was.

  She’d been swallowed up into a world to which he had no entry.

  He’d tried to get through to her mother, but though Mrs. St. Claire had seemed sympathetic, she’d refused to call Sammie downstairs, insisting that her daughter was exhausted and needed to rest.

  Against every instinct he had, Case had backed off, but he couldn’t give up without one more try.

  Today was it. He’d confront her. Refuse to let her guard dogs intervene until he’d spoken directly to her.

  Maybe she’d had a reality check, seen him for who he was. Understood, as he did, that she was out of his league. That his future wasn’t bright enough for her.

  If so, he’d head on back to the ranch and accept that it was over between them.

  Back to the ranch and the lonely life stretching endlessly ahead.

  But not without one more try. As the service ended, he started through the crowd toward her.

  Someone stepped into his path.

  Armand St. Claire regarded him silently. Case stared right back. At last Sammie’s father spoke. “Mr. Marshall, I am not without resources to protect my family, even in these circumstances.”

  Case frowned, waiting for him to make his point.

  For the first time, the icy, superior St. Claire looked uneasy. Uncertain. “What I cannot do is repair my daughter’s broken heart. I have watched her closely over these last few days, and I have seen her grow steadily more and more listless.” His gaze intensified. “My daughter cares for you, Mr. Marshall. Whether or not that is wise is not my choice to make. If I could heal her myself, I would.”

  Case blinked. This was not at all what he’d expected.

  But he wouldn’t waste the opportunity to make his case. “I love her, Mr. St. Claire.”

  “Ah, but is your love strong enough to convince her that she does not have to give you up, in order to save you?”

  “What?” Case couldn’t believe his ears.

  “You have a difficult task ahead of you, Marshall. My daughter believes that her very presence imparts danger to those she loves. My question to you is, are you afraid of the curse she believes she carries?” He paused, then added, “If I am not sadly mistaken, she is planning to disappear from us all.”

  Case’s heart seized in his chest. “The hell she is.” Every protective instinct he had roared to life. “I would give my life to keep her safe. I’m not afraid of what’s hanging over her.” Then he shook his head. “But I can’t give Sammie the luxuries she has here. Not now, and maybe not ever.” His chin lifted in challenge.

  Armand St. Claire exhaled in a gust. “In the last few days, I’ve had to do some hard thinking. Samantha has talked for a long time of how meaningless my lifestyle is. I’m finally listening. Seeing my daughter’s bruised body, knowing her inner pain and the torment she’s suffered, I’ve had to come to terms with just how little my wealth and social position mean at the worst time of her life.” His gaze held apology. “My daughter, it seems, is wiser than her father. Money is not so important to her, and anyway, she has plenty of her own.”

  “I don’t want her money.”

  “That is for you and Samantha to work out. The point is that my daughter has apparently found what
she’s been missing on your ranch—with you.”

  Case blinked. Hope stirred.

  “It pains me to admit that you would once have been my last choice in a mate for my daughter, but there it is.” Armand St. Claire held out his hand. “I’ll never be able to properly express my deep gratitude to you for saving my daughter’s life. What I can do for you, and for her, is to give you my blessing and my support.” His eyes pleaded. “I beg you, Mr. Marshall—take her home with you and keep her safe. You have my promise that Gascoigne will pay somewhere down the road, if it takes until my dying breath. I, too, have friends who will watch and wait.”

  Case accepted the handshake as he tried to absorb how his earlier despair had just been turned on its head. “I will guard her with my life. I also promise you that I will do everything possible to make her life comfortable, but above all, she will never lack for love.”

  “Persuading her to go with you won’t be easy. She is convinced that her presence puts those she loves in danger. She has her own valor, and she will do what she thinks is right.”

  “I’ve had ample demonstration of her courage, but I don’t give up easily.” Especially not now, not when he had reason to fight.

  “I wish you well as you try to convince her not to sacrifice what she wants most to protect those she loves.” Her father’s eyes misted. “Samantha understood long before her father that love is all that’s truly important.”

  Then his gaze shifted to the side.

  Sammie drew near.

  Case drank in the sight of her as her father left them. His breath caught in his throat as the blue eyes he loved so much stared back into his.

  Time stood still as he hungrily scanned the face so dear to him. She looked worn out, her eyelids puffy and reddened from crying. Her face was hollow, purple smudges shadowing the delicate skin beneath her eyes, but to him, she’d never been more beautiful than she was at that moment. He ached to hold her and give her comfort.

  Desire still simmered under the surface—it always would. But he could wait for passion. He wanted to share so much more with this woman—laughter and sorrow, children and old age, good times and bad—the full range of human existence. Whatever the future held would be welcome with her at his side.

  He had come too close to losing her forever. However long it took, he would wait her out.

  “Sammie.” He moved to her.

  She took a step back, out of reach.

  Though she drew away from Case, Sammie’s heart ached with the force of her longing. His was the face she loved most of all. With every fiber of her being, she yearned to fall into his arms and escape from everything but the man before her.

  But she was tainted, potential poison to everyone around her. She and Gascoigne were at a stand-off, yes, and it might hold for years, but she’d never forget the seamy world she’d been forced to enter. She would never expose those she loved to that horror. She’d given it all a lot of thought since that terrible night in the warehouse, and she’d decided to go away to someplace where no one knew her and no one she loved could be hurt.

  It was the safest course for everyone. Maybe Gascoigne would forget her if she stayed away. Certainly she would draw the danger away from her family, and Case and the ranch would also be safe.

  The very thought of never again seeing all those she’d come to love back in Texas sent a bittersweet pang through her heart.

  But that was nothing to the dread that filled her at the thought of never seeing this man again.

  “Sammie,” repeated that voice that went straight to her heart. “How are you?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not fine. How could you be? I will never forgive myself that Frenchy ever put a hand on you—”

  She had to touch him then. “Case, no. None of this is on you. Without you…” She had to close her eyes as memory swamped her. She opened them again. “You saved me. I owe you everything.”

  His jaw flexed. “You owe me nothing. You forget that I threw you out, that I cast you into that nightmare without giving you a chance to explain—” He looked away, his features hard and angry in self-reproach.

  “I’m all right now. I’m unharmed, all because of you.”

  “Are you?” he challenged. His laugh was bitter. “How can you possibly be all right after what you went through?” He shook his head. “I’m insane to have even considered—” He broke off.

  “Considered what?”

  Those gorgeous green eyes rose to pin hers. “Asking you to come home with me. Make a life with me. Letting me love you to my last breath.”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “I wish I could,” she whispered.

  “Why can’t you?”

  “Because I’m…poison. I’ve already brought so much trouble your way. I can’t risk bringing more. I really—I have to go.” She started to turn away before she broke completely.

  “Sammie, look at me.” He grasped her shoulders and turned her toward him. “That’s not your decision to make.”

  “I know what’s right. Gascoigne could still—”

  “I know exactly what Gascoigne is capable of, and I’m not afraid. Do you think Wiley would be? Or Linnie Mae? You seriously think they wouldn’t fight the devil himself for you?”

  “But, Case—”

  “No ‘buts’ about it. You have leverage over Gascoigne. You’re at a stalemate, one that will probably last until he or Whitehead is dead. We’ll keep working at it—maybe there’s some way to bring him to justice. And look at it this way: if you’re out of New Orleans, he’ll have even less reason to think about you. Face it, sweetheart, how much further from New Orleans can you get than my sorry excuse for a ranch?”

  “Don’t you talk like that. I love your ranch. Love every one of those people.”

  “And me?” he asked, his heart in his eyes. “Never mind.” Then he looked away. “I’m not a good bargain, Sammie. I can’t promise I could ever offer you anything to resemble the luxury you’ve had all your life, not that I won’t try like hell, but ranching is always a crapshoot. It’s not an easy life, and you’d be crazy to want it. Hell, I don’t know why I want it.”

  “But you do,” she said. “And so do I.”

  His head whipped up. “Why?”

  “Because I love you?” She smiled at last. “Here’s my reality, Case. I’ve had those luxuries, and they don’t convey happiness. I’ve been a fish out of water for years and never understood why, but now I do. I’ve never felt so at home as I felt at the ranch. I miss everyone so—” She halted. “Are you really sure about this? I couldn’t bear it if anything—”

  “Nothing is certain in this life, but I don’t take chances lightly with those I love. I want you to come with me more than I’ve ever wanted anything. I will promise that I’ll give you everything I am and all that I can provide, to my last breath on earth.” He drew both her hands between his as though making a vow. “Please…say yes. Say you’ll come home with me. That you’ll let me do my best to love you as you deserve.”

  Sammie’s eyes swam and her throat filled, but she managed to speak. “I want that so much.”

  “Then take it. Take me.”

  She hesitated, but there was a world in those green eyes, a world she desperately wanted to inhabit. “You’re sure.”

  “I’m sure. Come home, Sammie. Say yes.”

  One unsteady breath, then a deeper one. “Yes. Oh, yes, Case. I love you so much. I’ll make you so happy, I promise.”

  She threw her arms around him, and he lifted her off her feet, twirling her in a joyous circle. “You already have, sweetheart.”

  Then they both realized that they were still in a cemetery in plain sight.

  She grinned at him. He grinned back.

  And carried her behind a huge old oak.

  He paused his gaze solemn. “You will never be alone again, I swear it. And you will have more love than you know what to do with.”

  Then he lowered his mouth to hers.

  An
d after a long, dark night, her world shone bright as the sun.

  Epilogue

  “That much male beauty in one spot should probably be illegal,” murmured Lorie Marshall.

  “No kidding,” said her sister-in-law Elena. “I’ll take the hot one on the right.”

  Sammie glanced up from caressing her one-week-old son’s head and sighed. “I get dibs on the middle one.” Case stood there, flanked by his two equally tall cousins, surveying the vista before them. Josh was a handsome and hot film star and Quinn one of the most compelling men she’d ever met, but Case was the one she’d choose even if the others were available and not crazy in love with their wives.

  Though he’d been in touch with his cousins ever since Quinn had given him advice about finding her when she’d been abducted, it had been a big step for Case to invite them here. He’d want to meet his cousins on equal footing, and securing the ranch had taken some time.

  They’d done it, however. Even though he still refused to use any of her money, between her knowledge of the financial world and Case’s innovations, the trucking company was up on its feet again. Just a month before, Case had made his last run, happy to turn the driving over to others who didn’t want to be home as much as he did, he told her.

  “I’ll settle for the dreamboat with the long hair,” Lorie said, then laughed, naughty and low. “There cannot be three luckier ladies on the planet, you think?”

  “And they make such beautiful babies,” Sammie said, drawn once more to the sleeping infant in her arms. Randall Armand Marshall bore Wiley’s middle name for his first, and one would think Wiley had given birth to the boy, he’d been so proud.

  “They sure do.” Lorie turned back to admire young Randy. “Enough to keep you from selling them to the circus when they turn into hellions like ours.” Her affectionate smile gave the lie to her words as she glanced toward the corral where her rambunctious five-year-old twins, Antonio and Emilio, competed with David for her thirteen-year-old son Grant’s attention as Grant talked horses with Wiley.

  “Sammie, Sammie!” Jennifer and her new best friend, Lorie and Quinn’s daughter Clarissa, raced over. “Randy needs to see the new kittens! Can the other babies come, too?”