Wed to the Witness

by Karen Hughes

  Just as quickly, she pushed Graham’s sinfully handsome looks out of her thoughts. She hadn’t come to this secluded apron of beach for seduction. She was there for money. Her whole future, and that of Joe, Jr. and Teddy, might depend on the next few minutes.

  The instant Graham’s feet hit the sand, she stepped into view.

  “Jesus, Meredith, you scared me!”

  “You’re a smart man, Graham.” She leaned forward fractionally to make her point. “You’d better be afraid of me.”

  Wariness slid into his eyes. “What the hell do you want?”

  “You’re a guest in my home, darling. I’m just trying to make sure your stay is comfortable.”

  “The next time I feel comfortable around you, I’ll be laid out on a slab. Just tell me what the hell you want.”

  “Money. You promised to pay me to keep quiet about our little liaison. I have. Joe doesn’t know you’re Teddy’s father, which means you’re still named in Joe’s will. I expect you to keep your end of the bargain.”

  He lifted a hand to his neck for a quick, impatient rub. “You know as well as I do that Jackson found out about the payments I made to you. He wasn’t bluffing when he told you if you keep leaning on me for more money that he’ll go to the police. In case it hasn’t occurred to you, what you’re doing is called blackmail. It happens to be illegal. You could get arrested.”

  “Yes, well, Jackson knows all about getting arrested, doesn’t he? And because he has his hands full taking care of his own problems he’s too busy now to pay attention to yours. It’s time to stop trying to hide behind your son, Graham.” She gave him a sugary smile. “There’s one way, and only one, that will get you off the hook. You pay me one million dollars. In cash. If it makes you feel better, we’ll call it a loan—which I’ll never pay back, of course. That’s the only way you’ll be free of me.”

  He stared at her for a long moment. “I can’t get my hands on a million dollars in cash.”

  “You’ve got stocks, bonds, other investments.” Patsy lifted a shoulder. “Sell them.”

  “I can’t just sell them,” he said with more than a touch of annoyance in his voice. “They’re in Cynthia’s name, too.”

  “I’m sure you’ll figure out some way to get around the ice-bitch you’re married to.” Patsy narrowed her eyes. “I expect you to be smart this time. If you tell Jackson about this conversation, I promise you, you’ll be sorry. More than sorry.”

  “Save the threats, Meredith. Jackson’s gone.”

  “What do you mean, he’s gone? He’s out on bond for two attempted murders, his half-breed girlfriend is set to testify against him and the police have a gun with his prints all over it.”

  “He and Cheyenne left the house this morning the same time I did. They’re going off somewhere to get married.”

  Patsy blinked. “Don’t you think this is a strange time for that?”

  “Not when you know the reason. Once they’re married, Cheyenne can claim spousal privilege. That means she can decline to testify against Jackson, which helps his case. Immensely.”

  “That doesn’t change the fact that the police have the gun with his prints on it.” Patsy gave silent thanks that she’d been forward thinking enough to set that up. “Your eldest son is going to prison, Graham. Maybe for the rest of his life. He won’t be around to protect you and threaten me. All I want is a measly one million dollars. I need it to take care of your other son. If you don’t pay, I’ll go to Joe and tell him you’re Teddy’s father. You’ll lose millions, millions, when he writes you out of his will.”

  “You act like this is all my doing, but we both know you came on to me, hotter than a cheap pistol.” Hands clenched against his thighs, Graham turned his head and stared out at the ocean. “You’re a conniving bitch, Meredith. I wish to hell I’d never laid my hands on you.”

  Abruptly furious, she grabbed his jaw, making sure to dig in her nails when she jerked his head around and locked her gaze with his. “Don’t you dare stand there acting like you’re so much better than me. I was more than good enough for you the night you cornered me in that rest room and had me.” She felt herself vibrating with the anger he’d sparked in her. “Actions have consequences, you bastard. Your having to buy my silence is one of them. Pay up or your brother will be the next Colton you’ll have to deal with. Compared to Joe, I’m a walk in the park. And you know it.”

  “Yeah.” He shoved her hand away, rubbed his jaw where her nails had left half-moon imprints. “All right, you’ll get your money. In cash. I just need time to get it together. Cynthia can’t find out.”

  Patsy smiled and felt the tension in her stomach unknot. “Good boy,” she crooned. “Just don’t take too long. And be sure you keep Jackson out of this.”

  “That’s not a problem,” Graham said. “I’m not exactly his favorite person these days.”

  “I’m sorry, Cheyenne. As weddings go, ours wasn’t much of one.”

  “It was fine.” Gliding her hands up Jackson’s bare chest, she stood on tiptoe, making no effort to avoid the stream of warm water that beat down from the shower’s spray. “The honeymoon is shaping up to be much better.”

  He lowered his head to rub his wet lips over hers. “There is that.”

  While steam rose around them, he pulled her against him, one hand resting on the curve of her waist, the other pushing through her thick, wet hair to the back of her head. He kissed her deeply, thoroughly; she tasted the warm water that had beaded on his lips, felt it on his fingertips as his hand curved low over her.

  It was surreal to think that this man whose touch made her tremble was her husband. Surreal, maybe, but true.

  She and Jackson had risen early that morning and driven south along the rocky, rugged coast to Mendocino. They stopped at the courthouse and obtained a marriage license. One hour later, they had stood beneath sparkling sunlight on an ocean cliff with a justice of the peace and his smiling wife. There, they exchanged vows while gulls swooped and whales played in the distant surf.

  Mr. and Mrs. Jackson Colton had then checked into an inn known for its isolation and beauty. Once in their cozy, paneled room, they’d barely stripped off each other’s clothes before tumbling into bed. Hours later, Jackson had carried her into the shower. Now, with her entire body trembling from his touch, Cheyenne was certain he would have to carry her out, too.

  “Cheyenne.” He murmured her name over the hiss of water and curling clouds of steam. His hands glided gently over the curves and sleek planes of her body, as if he were discovering her all over again. She wrapped her arms around his neck as she lost herself to sensations—the wet heat of his body sliding against hers, the dark hair plastered across his chest, the taste of him in her mouth.

  “I need you,” he whispered hoarsely against her lips. “Just you.”

  “And I need you.”

  One of his hands moved down her belly, his long fingers cupped her, circling and kneading her sensitized skin until her legs threatened to give out. Just when she was sure she could no longer stand, he lifted her, guiding her legs around his waist as he pushed inside her.

  The pure physical sensation of the act made her feel as if she had ceased to exist alone, and now existed as a part of him. For her, it was a joining that went beyond the physical to the spiritual, until body and soul became one. She loved him, yet she held that knowledge close to her heart. She knew Jackson cared about her, yet she was well aware the events of the previous day were the reason he was now her husband. Those events had not changed the man he was. That man had never before chosen to let a woman into his life. He hadn’t had much of a choice when he’d let her in.

  Cheyenne pushed away the thought. She loved him. He needed her. With so many shadows hanging over their future, thinking about what might happen was useless. She and Jackson were together. That was enough for now.

  Slowly, he lowered her to her feet, nuzzled her throat. “I think if we don’t get out of this shower now, we’ll both drown.”r />
  “Save yourself,” she said as she slumped against the wet tiles. “I can’t move. I’ll never move again.”

  “No way I’m leaving you,” he said, then pulled her from beneath the warm spray.

  Fifteen minutes later, Cheyenne walked out of the bathroom, wearing one of the inn’s heavy velour robes. She had towel-dried her long hair and gathered it over one shoulder. She smiled when she saw that Jackson had already lit the logs in the fireplace built into one of the paneled walls. She glanced out the window that led to their private balcony. An early evening fog had rolled in, obscuring the inn’s grounds and the ocean beyond. The whole world seemed to have turned a cottony gray cloud.

  “After you dry your hair, we should think about getting something to eat,” Jackson said as he stood before a small antique bookcase and uncorked the bottle of local wine he’d bought at a nearby store. He had pulled on casual slacks and a light sweater that was a shade darker gray than his eyes. His black hair was still damp, slicked straight back from his tanned face.

  She slid him a look as she knelt in front of the fireplace and started finger-combing the tangles from her waist-length hair. “Food sounds good. I was beginning to think you didn’t plan to do anything on this trip, except ravish me.”

  His mouth curved. “Certain appetites take precedence over others. It’s the law.” He moved across the room, crouched beside her and handed her a glass of red wine. “You thinking of suing me?”

  “Could be. I have a really good attorney, you know.” The words weren’t totally out when she realized what she’d said. “Jackson, I’m sorry.”

  “You were just kidding.”

  “Yes, but considering the reason I have that lawyer…” She dropped her gaze to her lap where she’d clenched her hands. It was a jolt to see the plain gold band that circled her left ring finger. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes. As though they had agreed silently not to, neither she nor Jackson had spoken today about his arrest, or the real reason she now wore the gold band.

  Last night, when they’d conferred one last time with Rand, he had suggested they get married as soon as possible, then take the next twenty-four hours to just be together. In the meantime, he would deal with the necessary paperwork. That paperwork included advising Detective Law and the District Attorney that Cheyenne James was now Mrs. Jackson Colton. Further, she was claiming spousal privilege and, therefore, could not be compelled to make a statement or testify against her husband.

  “Cheyenne.” Using a finger, Jackson nudged her chin up while he settled beside her in front of the fire. “I’ve got pretty thick skin. After all that’s happened between us, I have to figure you’re on my side.”

  “Yes.” She raised the glass of wine, took a sip and felt her flesh warm. “I just wasn’t thinking. And I didn’t intend to remind you of everything.”

  “I haven’t exactly forgotten.” He glanced at his watch. “I’m planning on checking in with Rand before we leave to eat. By now he will have informed Law and the D.A. that they can’t force you to give them a formal statement. I want to make sure no glitches have surfaced.” He reached for her left hand, entwined his fingers between hers. “You’re my number-one supporter. I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you.”

  She took another sip of wine, her brow furrowing as she set the glass aside. “Speaking of supporters, I’d like to ask you a question.”

  “So, ask.”

  “I’ve been wondering about your parents.”

  His eyes narrowed. “What about them?”

  “Why didn’t they join us last night to talk strategy?”

  “I didn’t ask them to join us.”

  “They’re both attorneys. Maybe one of them might have thought of something the rest of us didn’t.”

  “Don’t count on it. Neither of my parents has ever given my sister or me much thought. I don’t expect that to change just because I’m facing prison.” He paused. “At the police station, my father asked me if I tried to kill Uncle Joe.”

  “Oh, Jackson—”

  “My sister, Liza, and I grew up in a house where manners took precedence over love. In fact, there wasn’t any love, not where our parents were concerned. They never gave much of a damn about us. They left our upbringing in the hands of nannies and housekeepers. Uncle Joe and Aunt Meredith were the ones who cared. Meredith intervened, told my parents that Liza and I would be spending most of our time at the ranch with them. We basically grew up at Hacienda de Alegria.”

  Cheyenne’s heart went out to the man who as a child must have thirsted for his parents’ love. “On the weekends I spent there visiting River, your uncle always let me sit in his study and look through the photo albums. He always took time to tell me a joke and tweak my nose. Your aunt let me help her cut flowers from her gardens and showed me how to arrange them in crystal vases.”

  “I doubt Meredith has even looked at a flower bed in the past ten years. She sure hasn’t spent the time promoting family unity.” Jackson angled his head. “I’ll stop before I’m tempted to tell you all of the sordid Colton secrets. I don’t want to make you sorry that you married into the family.”

  “I won’t ever be sorry.”

  “I hope not.” Jackson shifted, rested his back against the love seat upholstered in a soft raspberry-colored fabric. “Speaking of family, do you want to call River and Rafe and let them know they have a brother-in-law?”

  Cheyenne shook her head. “I asked Rand to talk to both of them and to tell them I’ll explain things when we get back.”

  “I plan on talking to them, too. Considering the situation, I doubt either of them will be delighted.”

  “My gift passed to me from our mother, from the blood to the blood. She taught my brothers to understand the power of her visions. They understand mine. River and Rafe will accept what we have done.”

  “Accepting doesn’t mean they have to like it.” Jackson rubbed his jaw. “Both might feel like going a few rounds with me, just for the principle of things.”

  She arched a brow. “Think they’ll drag you behind the barn and gang up on you?”

  “It’s possible. I keep thinking about your ancestors, how a river ran red with their blood before they surrendered to the white man. Your brothers have that same blood running through their veins.” Jackson flashed her a grin. “And I thought my family was scary.”

  Laughing softly, Cheyenne resumed finger-combing her damp hair and shifted her gaze to the fireplace. Flames danced. A spark popped. Thin curls of smoke rose toward the chimney.

  In the next instant, she no longer heard the greedy lapping of the flames against wood, no longer smelled the heady scent of wood-smoke. All had been replaced in her mind’s eye by a nearly blinding slash of light. Illuminated in the glare was a man’s hand, clenched into a tight fist. Beneath the skin, the knuckles showed white. In her hazy, half-dreamed dream, Cheyenne could see—feel—the searing anger that had caused that hand to clench. Fear tripped in her heart, beat wings in her stomach.

  “Cheyenne, what is it?”

  “He’s…” The air turned stale and hot, making it difficult for her to breathe. Her heart faltered; the fear she had felt transformed in an instant to cold, hard rage. “He wants…to kill him.”

  “Steady.”

  She knew the voice she heard was Jackson’s, yet it seemed to come from far away. Everything around her was fuzzy and disjointed, except the man’s fist, lit in that painfully bright slash of light. Something dark lay beyond the light, a form whose edges seemed to waver. She reached out her hand, desperate to touch. The form shifted, retreated. Straining, she leaned forward. If she could only touch. She needed to touch—

  “Cheyenne!” Jackson’s hand locked around her wrist, jerked it back. “You want to set yourself on fire?”

  The images slid into one, fractured again before her eyes, then were gone.

  “Cheyenne.”

  Shuddering, sweating, she struggled up from the depths of the vision, following the
sound of Jackson’s concerned voice. “Jackson…”

  “I’m here.” She hadn’t known he’d put his arms around her, hadn’t realized he’d pulled her onto his lap. All she knew was he was there, holding, comforting.

  “Oh, God.” She blinked, trying to clear the blur.

  “It’s okay, I’ve got you.” His voice was soft, with a hint of steel beneath. “You had a vision, I take it.”

  His eyes came into focus, gray and waiting. “Yes.”

  He watched her, his face somber as he smoothed his palm down her damp hair. “That didn’t quite have the same effect as the vision you had before Johnny got hurt.”

  “No.” She forced a swallow past the dry knot in her throat, then looked for her wine. “I spilled it,” she said quietly when she saw the glass lying on its side beside the crimson liquid that had pooled on the wood floor in front of the fireplace.

  “I knocked the glass over when I grabbed your wrist. You kept leaning closer to the fire, reaching.” He shook his head. “I was afraid you might stick your hand into the flames.”

  She took a breath that wasn’t quite steady. “I’m not sure what I was doing.”

  “I’ll clean that up and pour you more wine.”

  “No.” Being held in his arms felt like she’d landed in a safety net. “Later. Just hold me.”

  “All right.” He placed a soft kiss against her temple. “You want to tell me about what you saw?”

  “It was more than just what I saw.” She frowned. “I’ve never had a vision like that. Never felt one like that.”

  “How did it feel?”

  “Horrible. There’s a burning hatred. A fury.” Her voice hitched. “He wants to kill your uncle. He hates him and he wants to kill him.”

  She felt Jackson’s body stiffen beneath her. “You saw who tried to kill Uncle Joe?”

  “No. I’m sorry.” She could almost feel the hope slide through Jackson’s fingers like cold, dry sand. “I saw his hand…and a slash of bright light. Something else was there, just beyond the light, something dark. Black, maybe. It was too bright and I couldn’t see. That’s what I reached for. I thought if I could just touch it…”