Ryan drove up to her front door before pulling to a stop. Turning toward her, one wrist resting on the top of the steering wheel, he reached out and gently cupped her chin. “You’ve been wonderful. Three hours in an E.R. and having the privilege of listening to my ungrateful brother is more than anyone could ask.”
“But—”
“I’ll check on him every hour. He seems to be doing just fine, but if anything comes up I promise I’ll call. Fair enough?”
He was so close, in the intimate confines of the cab, his light blue eyes shadowed by the thick crescents of his eyelashes, the lean angles of his face mysterious and compelling in the darkness. She imagined the feel of his kiss….
“Hey, man,” Garrett mumbled drunkenly from the backseat. “I…I’m about…to barf. Get me…out…”
Ryan jerked back and flung open his door. In a heartbeat he had his arm around Garrett’s shoulders. “C’mon, buddy. I’ve got you. Just nice, slow breaths, now…” Garret winced and cried out as Ryan eased him to his feet. “Any better?”
“Maybe the fresh air will help.” Kristin moved to Garrett’s other side. “This could be due to his mild concussion or the pain meds. Has he ever had any problem with codeine?”
Ryan looked blankly at her, but Garrett mumbled something that sounded like “yes.”
“Apparently he has.” Ryan took a half step back. “You could have said something when that nurse was taking your health history.”
“What…nurse?” Garrett raised his head briefly and gave him a loopy grin. “Pretty?”
Ryan snorted in disgust. “Let’s just get you home and into your own bed. The sooner the better.”
But while Garrett had come out of the truck without much trouble, he now seemed to have pretty strong ideas about getting back in. Bracing an arm against the door frame, he dug in his heels. “Gonna be sick. Can’t.”
“Just fifteen, twenty minutes till we’re home,” Ryan said soothingly. “You made it this far, and this poor woman has had more than enough of both of us, I’m sure. Just get in. Please.”
Garrett gave Kristin a woozy, pleading smile. “I’d rather…walk.”
“Look, it’s no problem,” Kristin said briskly. “You can leave him here on my couch—he won’t have anything more than a few porch steps to navigate, and he’ll be close to the bathroom. It could take a few more hours for the codeine to wear off, and that will be morning anyway.”
Garrett pulled away from Ryan’s grasp, braced his arms gingerly over his damaged ribs and turned awkwardly away to vomit in the bushes next to the truck.
“Definitely, leave him here,” she added.
“Then I guess you’ll have us both, because I can hardly leave you to deal with him alone.” With a resigned sigh, Ryan reached into the truck for the ignition keys. “And if he starts feeling better, I can just haul him home. I’m sorry about all of this, Kristin.”
Over the past few weeks, Kristin’s thoughts had often wandered to the past.
She’d imagined Ryan’s kiss, his touch…what it might be like to wrap her arms around him again. But never once had she dreamed that he might end up on her doorstep with his obstinate brother…and not want to be there at all.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
GARRETT STARTED SNORING within minutes of hitting the couch in Kristin’s living room.
After starting a fire in the fireplace, Ryan dusted off his hands and went over to check on him. “If he didn’t weigh so much, I’d haul him out to the truck and take him home,” he muttered. “He looks like he’s well enough to travel.”
“Maybe, but he sure wasn’t faking how he felt an hour ago. That pain med is powerful stuff, so I’m sure he feels groggy. And every breath has to hurt, with those cracked ribs.” She winced. “Just think how much it hurt when he lost his cookies outside.”
“Maybe this will be a good lesson. Did you hear the nurse talking to him about his sprained wrist?” Ryan shook his head as he paced the darkened room. “He’s had it since the last rodeo. Never had it looked at, didn’t wrap it well, so all along he’s been making it worse saddling and riding colts at the ranch. And that’s his rope hand when he rides bulls, yet he still went out there and rode. Just imagine the force and the torque on those weakened tendons. What was he thinking?”
“About all the fame and glory, I suppose. Maybe about proving himself to people he admires very much.”
Ryan braced a hand on the mantel and stared into the flickering flames. “With his attitude, I can’t imagine who that would be.”
“You, your father. Trevor.” Kristin perched on the arm of one of the upholstered chairs flanking the fireplace. “Just think about it. Your father is a powerful man—not just around here, but statewide. How can Garrett compete with that? Trevor is like Clint’s right hand, and has a beautiful family. And you?” She smiled. “That’s like trying to best a superman and James Bond.”
The flames cast deep shadows on Ryan’s face, emphasizing the lines of exhaustion bracketing his mouth. “Then Garrett is a lot more foolish than I thought.”
“What, because he admires a brother who travels the world and has made a career of danger? I’ll bet Garrett has envied you all these years, imagining excitement and death-defying missions. What younger brother wouldn’t?”
“I’ve never told him about what I do.” Ryan bowed his head, his eyes closed. “He wouldn’t be so proud.”
“Then maybe,” she said gently, “it’s time to talk to him. I’ve heard about you around town, you know. You may not keep in touch with these people, but they all view you as a great hero.”
“Well, I’m not,” he said harshly. “I follow orders. I protect my men and I get the job done. But going through hell and back doesn’t make me a hero. Not when—”
He broke off suddenly and paced the floor, his eyes bleak.
“You’ve been through a lot. The scars, what happened to your shoulder and knee—I can’t even imagine the pain.”
“It’s no more than I…” His voice trailed off as he pulled to a stop in front of the windows and stared out into the night.
“Than what? Than you deserve?”
She watched him for a moment, then rose and wrapped her arms around his waist. She rested her cheek against his back. “I know what kind of man you are, Ryan. I remember who you were in college, and that hasn’t changed in all these years. Whatever happened, I know it wasn’t your fault…and that you couldn’t have done more.” She took a deep breath. “I also know that it helps to talk.”
“Does it? Or does it just make everything more real? You have no idea. No idea at all.” He stepped out of her embrace and moved into one of the chairs by the fireplace. Propping an elbow on the arm, he rested his head against his palm, staring into the flames.
Well, that hadn’t gone as she’d hoped.
“Would you like some coffee? I have decaf. Or…” Kristin felt suddenly awkward and unsure. “If you want to catch a couple hours of sleep, you’re welcome to Cody’s room upstairs. I’m a little too wired right now to sleep anyway, so I can stay down here with Garrett.”
“No. He’s my responsibility.”
“Maybe so, but sometimes responsibility can be shared, Ryan—like now.” Kristin settled into the chair opposite his. “I get the feeling that you consider yourself responsible for way too much. Maybe you need to forget some of the things you just can’t change.”
“Nice try, Cantrell, but you tell me.” He met her gaze with a weary one of his own. “If your actions meant a dozen children were badly injured or died—just how easy would it be to let that go?”
HE WAS THERE AGAIN.
Mortar fire shook the earth, raining pulverized concrete into the narrow street. Heavy clouds of pale gray dust obliterated everything but the rubble a few feet ahead of him and the faces of the locals running past him in fear of their lives.
Mothers held their small children, clutched tightly in their arms. Old men hobbled awkwardly, a thousand years of turmoil etched on t
heir deeply lined faces.
Corporal Dietrich yelled something from a point just a few yards ahead, his voice lost in the constant staccato of automatic rifle fire.
A frightened young woman came running at him with terrified children at her heels—one with a bandaged head, some with crutches. Ryan stepped aside to let them pass, hoping against hope that they would all get out.
He ran for the building ahead, shouting for Dietrich and the others to follow him inside—his lungs burning, his mouth filled with the choking dust. The others hung back but he kept running. There’s still time…still time…
Only later, days later, was he conscious enough to hear that he’d been too late.
The insurgents had made no empty threats before, and they’d not made one then, in their demand for the release of two of their leaders.
Four well-placed IEDs had detonated at the corners of the children’s hospital. A suicide bomber hit the front doors a split second later…and no one even knew how many of the children died.
A section of wall had fallen on Ryan as he ran inside, crushing his knee and shoulder and knocking him unconscious, but it had also protected him from the explosive force of the jagged glass and metal fragments that landed a hundred yards away.
Maybe he’d been lucky to survive, but he hadn’t deserved it.
“Ryan. Ryan…wake up. It’s okay, it’s okay.”
He struggled to climb from the depths of the nightmare, even as warm, soft hands cradled his face. Soothing. Loving.
He opened his eyes and found Kristin kneeling in front of him, her eyes filled with tears.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “So very, very sorry. You were dreaming, I think. I heard you cry out for someone.”
“It’s nothing.” He needed distance and would’ve stood and moved away, but the touch of her hands held him more securely than any shackles could have.
She rocked back on her heels and took his hands in hers. “That isn’t true, Ryan. I understand that you don’t want to talk about it—maybe you can’t. But if there’s anything I can do…”
He looked into her eyes and found such complete acceptance, such understanding, that something inside him cracked just a little…the wall of sorrow and guilt that he’d built so long ago. The anger at himself for failing.
Her hands still on his, he reached up to frame her lovely face and leaned closer to rest his forehead against hers.
There were no words.
There was no way to tell her…or to explain that he’d welcomed his multiple surgeries and long rehabilitation. The pain had felt like penance for the death of those nameless, faceless children. Because he’d been too late.
Kristin’s hands trembled. “Let me…please…”
Then she leaned into him and kissed him.
There were a hundred reasons why this was wrong. A hundred reasons why both of them would regret this later.
Yet he kissed her back…and with that simple touch of his lips against hers, he felt as if he’d stepped into the past.
“ADELFA TELLS ME you and Garrett were off at some rodeo last night,” Leland said. He raised an eyebrow. “You look beat, and I haven’t even seen your brother around yet this morning. How’d it go?”
The Four Aces lawyer had arrived just as Ryan walked into the office at ten o’clock. He’d made small talk for the past half hour, keeping Ryan from tackling the hunting lease advertisements that needed to be emailed to the Dallas and Austin newspapers by noon, but the genial old guy was hard to ignore.
Perhaps for the best, because since Ryan had brought Garrett home, the only thing on his mind had been Kristin. Kissing her last night had been a mistake.
He’d spent too many years angry after they broke up and, even after the hurt had faded, he’d thought about her so often. At the oddest moments, he’d see her smile, hear her laughter. Remember all that had been between them.
He didn’t want to hurt her. Didn’t want to lead her on…and he also didn’t want to face the coming years with her memory fresh in his mind.
Leland chuckled. “You look like you’re a thousand miles away. How’s your brother?”
“He took a fall in the chute with the bull on top of him.”
“Is he hurt?”
“No casts, no stitches, but he’s going to be feeling that fall for a long time. Hold on just a minute.” Ryan proofread a hard copy of the ad, turned to the computer to make some minor changes and printed off a final copy. He emailed it off before turning back to Leland. “Dad isn’t here, if you were looking for him. He’s in Austin.”
Leland shrugged. “Guess I should’ve called, but this is my day to be in the Homestead office, and Clint is usually around. How are things going?”
“It’s all just as complex as you’d said it would be. I’m making some headway, though. The computer I ordered arrived last week, along with updated business software, so bringing this place into the twenty-first century and keeping up with the bills takes most of my time.”
“And the older books? Seen any sign of that missing money?”
“There hasn’t been much time, yet. This place is like the Aegean stable of mythology. As fast as I work, there’s more coming in.”
Leland nodded in sympathy. “We did make it through taxes the past couple years, and the ranch hasn’t been audited so far. Maybe you’re better off moving ahead, for now.”
“That’s your legal opinion?” Ryan frowned. “Given the fines and interest that could accrue?”
“It’s not ideal, but just getting this business organized and back on its feet will be an accomplishment. An awful lot was left undone over the past few years.”
Ryan studied him. “You’re probably right.”
“Have you found anything suspicious—any evidence Nate left behind?” Lines creased Leland’s brow. “I expected a cowboy like him would leave a paper trail a mile wide, but he was one crafty dude.”
“Must’ve been,” Ryan said mildly.
Leland lingered for a while, discussing investments and accounts, then clapped Ryan affectionately on the back. “I’d better get to town. Tell your dad I stopped by.”
Ryan watched him drive away before turning to the computer. But until he finally closed down the current month’s file in the accounting program, he couldn’t shake one thought.
Were there secrets somewhere in all of those old invoices? Could there be a clear trail leading to the true culprit?
Everyone was convinced Nate had embezzled all the money, but the errors hadn’t started with him.
Ryan had gone through some of the oldest files, and had come up with one error after another. Carefully altered records. Invoices that didn’t match the cancelled checks.
And all of them were dated before Nate was hired.
AFTER RYAN AND GARRETT left at dawn, Kristin spent the rest of the morning trying to avoid dwelling on the night before. You’re pathetic, she muttered to herself as she scrubbed the kitchen floor by hand, then flew into a frenzy dusting every nook and cranny. Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic.
She could only imagine what Ryan thought of her now, after she’d practically kissed him the moment he walked in her door. She’d wanted to give him comfort, healing. She’d wanted to…
With a snort, she headed for the upstairs bedrooms. She hadn’t just wanted to give him emotional support. She’d wanted to kiss him. But she’d felt herself almost in tears—it was all such a vivid reminder of everything she’d lost when they’d broken up.
Her life had gone on, and so had his. But if she could do one thing over, she’d go back and fight harder to keep him. Clint had been a terrifying, powerful figure to her as a shy young college girl. His threats had rung true. But with her adult perspective, she realized that she and Ryan could have stood up to him, found a way to be together.
But second chances didn’t come along often, and she already knew that this chance intersection of her life with Ryan was a very temporary thing.
In Cody’s room she duste
d and picked up, then sank onto his bed and stared at the collection of books and toys and sports equipment jammed onto the built-in shelves. Loneliness snuck up on her as she absorbed the silence of the old house.
It wouldn’t be long until Cody reached middle school, then high school and, after that, the years without him at home seemed to stretch on forever. What would it be like, being totally alone? Nothing she looked forward to, unlike some of her friends back in Dallas.
With a sigh, she picked up her dust cloth and started for the door, passing the small framed photo of her father on Cody’s desk.
Her frustration welled again at the dead end she’d reached with Buddy’s Auto Shop. She’d been so sure she’d find the old truck. Right. Sitting there, waiting for her after nearly two years. What had she been thinking?
Any evidence would be long gone.
Ryan wouldn’t be in town long enough to prove anything even if he did want to. Besides, after last night, he’d probably be putting as much distance as possible between himself and the Cantrells.
So this whole town would go on, convinced Nate had been a lowlife, an embezzler who’d stolen from his boss.
Yet all she’d needed was to find some sort of proof. A scrape, maybe, and some paint residue on Dad’s truck. Surely there’d have been something if another person had driven him off the road. Just last month, someone had opened a door against the side of her truck in a parking lot, and even that light touch had left a long green mark from the other car’s paint.
She brushed a fingertip against her father’s photograph. “I’m sorry, Dad…I guess we’ll never know.”
Her gaze dropped to the collection of Hot Wheels cars arranged on the desk. Cody played with them for hours upon hours, staging races and crashes, sometimes sending them catapulting down the stairs. Idly, she rested a finger on one and scooted it back and forth, then bumped it against the side of another car.
She stared at them for a moment, then did it again.
The sheriff’s photos had included a shot of the truck’s course down the hill. It had gone down nose first, then apparently ricocheted off a large boulder and begun a sideways, bouncing rollover to the bottom of the ravine.
A Home in Hill Country (Harlequin Heartwarming) Page 14
