Dropping the Hammer

by Joanna Wayne

  He picked her up and carried her to the bed, shoved the coverlet out of the way and laid her between the soft cotton sheets. Luke pulled off her black booties and then kicked out of his boots and socks.

  Standing next to the bed, he yanked his knit shirt over his head and dropped it onto a chair. His bronzed skin practically glowed in the dim light, the dark hairs on his chest all but hypnotizing as they narrowed into a V and disappeared into his jeans.

  Desire swelled inside her, heating her insides and dancing along her nerves as he unzipped his jeans. He wiggled out of them. They fell to the floor. He kicked them away, leaving his clothes scattered around the room.

  Even that was a turn-on.

  He crawled into bed and stretched out beside her. His fingers fumbled with the buttons on her blouse. Her impulse was to help him, to hasten the moment his hands found her bare breasts and pebbled nipples. But she didn’t want to miss one second of the foreplay for their first time together.

  When they were both finally naked, his exploring fingers and sweet kisses trailed over her body.

  She reached between them and took his erection in her hand.

  “Now,” she whispered. “I don’t think I can wait another second.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you, baby. You tell me if anything is too much and I’ll pull back, I promise. I’d die before I hurt you.”

  Tears filled her eyes. Her body trembled with love. “You could never hurt me, Luke.”

  And he didn’t. They came together in a rush of passion and pleasure that rocked her whole body.

  When they got around to room service, it was perfect, too. They fed each other loaded nachos and washed the hot, spicy peppers down with another margarita.

  “Perfection?” she asked when it was time to get dressed again.

  “I’m not sure. I’ll let you know after we try it a few thousand more times.”

  * * *

  GOING FROM MIDDAY in heaven to an afternoon with his dad was as anticlimactic as one could get. But they’d driven here to see Alfred and his doctor, so he might as well get to the second part of his agenda.

  It was four forty when Luke walked down the long hallway to Alfred’s room. Rachel had excused herself to go to the ladies’ room and to call Sydney. The sisters were close.

  Luke couldn’t see how anything good could come from Rachel’s seeing Roy Sales again. If Sydney agreed with him, maybe she could talk some sense into Rachel.

  Alfred’s door was open. Luke tapped and then walked in. Alfred was in his hospital bed, the head raised until he was practically in a sitting position. The TV was on, but the volume was turned too low to make out what was being said.

  Luke took off his slightly damp Stetson and tossed it onto an empty chair near the single narrow window.

  “You look comfortable,” he said. “How are you feeling?”

  Alfred looked at him and then went back to staring at a rerun of Home Improvement on the muted TV.

  Luke approached the foot of the bed. “Do you know who I am?”

  “Yep.”

  “That’s good. Did you have a good day?”

  “Nope.”

  “We got some rain,” Luke offered.

  “Who’s taking care—” Alfred hesitated, coughing before he finished the sentence “—care of the horses?”

  “Your horses are in good hands. Pierce Lawrence is seeing to that. He’s helping me find wranglers and cowpunchers.”

  “Pierce.”

  “Yes. He said to tell you all is well at Arrowhead Hills.”

  “Good man.”

  “He is that.”

  Another tap on the open door. Luke turned and motioned Rachel to join them.

  She smiled and walked over to stand next to Alfred. “Good afternoon, Mr. Dawkins.”

  A confused look settled on Alfred’s face. “I took my...pills already. You a new...nurse?”

  “I’m glad you took your meds. I’m not a nurse. I’m Rachel, a friend of Luke’s.”

  “Humph.”

  “Luke talks about you all the time,” she continued. “I’m so glad to finally meet you.”

  Alfred went back to staring at the TV.

  “Don’t let Luke sell my horses,” he muttered, the rhythm of his words uneven. Apparently he was talking to Rachel, though he didn’t look at her.

  “Luke would never do that,” Rachel answered. “He’s taking good care of them. I visited your ranch. It’s very nice.”

  “House is a mess.”

  “Not anymore,” Luke said. “Rachel gave it a good cleaning.”

  “Luke helped,” Rachel said.

  “You like horses?”

  “I do.”

  “Know how to ride?”

  “I don’t ride often, but I can stay in the saddle.”

  “I gotta go home. Horses need me.”

  “You have to get well first,” Luke reminded him.

  Alfred tried to push himself up on his elbows. His left elbow collapsed under him. Frustration deepened the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth.

  Luke got a sick feeling deep in his gut. Alfred wasn’t just ornery. He was also scared. Life as he knew it had been stolen by events he had no control over.

  They might not have much of a father/son relationship, but Luke couldn’t bear seeing him like this.

  “Gotta get home,” Alfred said again. “Horses need me.”

  “They do,” Luke agreed. And Alfred desperately needed them. The decision Luke had expected to wrestle with for days had just made itself.

  “I’m taking you home in a few days, Dad. I’ll get everything ready and then I’ll take you home. That’s a promise.”

  Alfred turned away, but not before Luke saw the tears in his eyes.

  “Your mama won’t be there,” Alfred said, his voice catching in a gruff sob.

  Luke had no idea where that had come from, but his eyes grew moist, as well. Life took some bizarre turns.

  Rachel walked over to Luke and squeezed his hand.

  “I didn’t know I had it in me,” Luke muttered.

  “I did.”

  The room grew silent until an aide entered with Alfred’s dinner. Luke and Rachel introduced themselves.

  “Does he always eat in his room?” Luke asked. “You must have a cafeteria of sorts.”

  “We have a great cafeteria. Alfred goes down for breakfast and lunch but insists he have dinner in his room. Don’t you, Alfred?”

  “Too much talking.”

  Luke wasn’t sure if that meant it was difficult for him to talk and it wasn’t worth the effort by the end of the day or that he’d had enough of people in general by then. Luke suspected it was a little of both.

  When the aide left, Rachel handed Alfred the wet cloth to wash his hands and then opened his carton of milk, stuck the straw into it and arranged his tray so that he could get to everything easily.

  Alfred smiled appreciatively. No doubt he liked Rachel. But then, who wouldn’t?

  “We should go and let you eat while it’s hot,” Luke said.

  “Not...” He hesitated. “Never hot,” Alfred complained as he shoved a spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth.

  A bit spilled from his mouth and landed on his shirt. He didn’t seem to notice.

  Rachel wiped the blob of food from his shirt with a napkin and spread his napkin under his chin to catch any additional mishaps.

  They were practically out the door when Alfred’s angry yell got their instant intention.

  “Murderer.”

  “What did you say?” Luke asked.

  “Murderer.” He pointed his spoon at the TV.

  Luke checked it out. The five o’clock news had come on and the Breaking News warning was splashed across the screen with the picture of Hayden Covey just below
it.

  Rachel grabbed the remote and turned up the volume.

  The judge had set Hayden Covey’s bail at one million dollars.

  Luke let out a low whistle. “That’s a lot of cash for a schoolboy.”

  “He’s twenty. That’s not a schoolboy in the legal system. A million dollars is not out of line for someone arrested for murder.”

  “Guess it doesn’t matter in his case,” Luke said. “His father will come up with it. How does that affect your resignation?”

  “If Eric has already replaced me with the attorney who arranged for bail, then I’m definitely in the market for a new job.”

  Which wouldn’t be bad in Luke’s mind, but he wasn’t counting that a done deal yet.

  * * *

  RACHEL’S MIND WAS whirling as Luke pulled in behind Sydney’s car. For four months, she’d felt trapped in a time warp, trying to block everything to do with Roy Sales from her mind, only to be faced with her fears at every turn.

  She’d passed some kind of milestone in a few days, pulled her abduction and captivity from the dark crevices of her mind and exposed them to the stark light of reality. Now she was about to face Roy Sales straight on. Weirdly, she felt more emboldened than afraid.

  Luke killed the engine and reached for her hand. “Are you sure I can’t persuade you to go home with me tonight?”

  “No, but you get points for making it hard to say good-night. Thanks for a memorable day.”

  “No reason we can’t top that off with an even more memorable night.”

  “That is the most tempting offer of my life, but seriously, I need to spend some time with Sydney. I’d like her input on meeting with Sales and Eric Fitch. And you have a ranch to run now that you’ve officially made the decision to stay at Arrowhead Hills. At least, I think that’s what you meant when you promised to take your dad home.”

  “I did, though it may turn out to be the biggest mistake of my life.”

  “It was the right thing to do.”

  “Keep telling me that when I start to rip my hair out and run around wildly in circles.”

  “I will. I’m sure Esther has some leftovers from dinner if you’re hungry.”

  “No. I’m good. Pierce said Esther had him deliver a food basket to the ranch today. He claims it’s enough food to last me till spring.”

  “When did you talk to Pierce?”

  “While you were drying your hair back at the hotel. I had high hopes then for not making it back to the ranch tonight. To be honest, I had hopes for not making it back for days.”

  “I don’t think a good cowboy would ever shirk his job to mess around,” she teased.

  “You’ve got a lot to learn about cowboys. Afternoon delight with a beautiful woman trumps wrangling every time.”

  He let go of her hand and opened the door.

  “You don’t have to walk me to the door,” she said.

  “I know, but I have to kiss you good-night properly, or better yet, improperly.”

  He rounded the truck quickly and opened her door.

  “Are you sure you want to drive me to Houston tomorrow? You really do have a lot of work to do. And they’re forecasting storms for tonight and early morning.”

  “The work will get done with or without me. Buck Stallings is going to give the new wranglers a trial run for the rest of the week. Dudley Miles says he can spare even more cowpunchers if I need them. Barring the unexpected, January is a relatively quiet time in the ranching business.”

  “It might be storming.”

  “Then we’ll leave a little later. Call me when you’re ready to leave. No way am I letting you face Roy Sales alone.”

  He pulled her into his arms. The kiss was improper enough that she was weak-kneed and dizzy with desire by the time she made it to the porch.

  Sydney met her at the door, a worried look on her face.

  “What’s wrong?” Rachel asked.

  “You have company.”

  “Who?”

  “Claire Covey. She’s bordering on hysterical and says it’s urgent that she talk to you.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Rachel stepped into the small office at the end of the hall that Esther used for clipping and organizing coupons and for keeping up with the church and community organizations she enjoyed so much. It consisted of a desk, an office chair, a bookcase and a comfortable accent chair near the one narrow window.

  Claire was waiting, standing near the desk. She wasn’t hysterical at the moment, but her eyes were red and swollen and a pile of tissues lying on the desk beside her were ripped to shreds.

  Except for the red and swollen eyes, Claire was an attractive woman, likely somewhere in her early forties. Her short blond hair was cut into a stylish pageboy.

  Her slacks and sweater were classic but had that designer edge to them that shouted money. The handbag on the floor beside her chair was Gucci.

  “I’m Rachel Maxwell. How can I help you?”

  “I know who you are. I know all about you and what you’ve been through. I don’t know how you endured it.”

  “It was difficult, but I’m sure that’s not what brought you here tonight.”

  “I need your help. The police are pinning a murder on my son. He’s innocent, but that doesn’t matter to them. They won’t listen to reason. All they want is to send him to prison.”

  Claire burst into tears and buried her face in her hands as sobs shook her body.

  Rachel gave her a minute to regain a semblance of composure. She could understand Claire’s fears. She was a mother who loved her son. “Do you believe Hayden is innocent?”

  “I know he’s innocent. He would never hurt anyone. Never. The girl was after him, calling him all hours of the night, and then he’d see her out with other guys.”

  Blaming the victim was a common counter, but it seldom led anywhere. “You should probably be discussing this with your attorney.”

  “That was supposed to be you,” Claire said. “Eric Fitch promised us it would be you. The jury will believe you if you tell them he’s innocent. You’d never defend a monster. Not after what you’ve been through.”

  “The jury would be right,” Rachel agreed. “I’d never defend an accused murderer unless I was convinced he was innocent. But defending a case involves a lot more than just connecting with the jury.”

  “Eric said you were an extremely talented defense attorney, the best chance of Hayden being acquitted.”

  “Eric may have exaggerated that a bit. Exactly when did Eric tell you that I wouldn’t be handling your case?”

  “This afternoon. He called about two and said you’d left the firm for personal reasons, but I’m begging you, please don’t turn your back on Hayden. Don’t let them ruin his life. Don’t let them take my son.”

  Her words cracked into sobs.

  Rachel wondered if Eric had changed his mind about wanting her back or if he was just covering the odds. Was he trying to make sure that he didn’t lose the Coveys as clients if Rachel didn’t come back?

  “Who arranged the bail?” Rachel asked.

  “Eric. He wants to be the lead attorney,” Claire explained.

  “Eric does have a lot of influence in this state. It’s doubtful anyone else could have done that so quickly if at all,” Rachel said, giving him his due.

  “I don’t care about his influence. I don’t care about my husband’s reputation. I don’t care about anything except my boy. I’ll get on my knees if it will help. I’ll pay you any amount of money you want. Just please save my boy.”

  Claire’s pain seemed to cut right into Rachel’s heart. Like all mothers, she was no doubt prejudiced, but that didn’t mean she was wrong. Rachel had judged Hayden on one look, but that might have been colored by her own fears.

  “Just talk to Hayden,” Claire begged.
“You’ll see he could never have killed anyone. You’ll see the goodness in him. I know you will.”

  It was hard to say no to that simple request.

  “I’ll meet with him. That’s all I can promise. Even if I decide to take Hayden’s case, I may not be doing it in conjunction with Eric’s firm.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “But there could be legal and ethical issues that apply to my taking a case from Fitch, Fitch and Bauman so soon after my resignation.”

  “It’s my son’s future that’s at stake,” Claire begged. “What could be unethical about that?”

  “Does your husband agree with you on moving the case from the law firm?”

  “He’ll do what I say.”

  If she took Hayden’s case, her plate wouldn’t just be piled high as Luke said. It would spill over and pool at her feet like acid rain. “When do you expect Hayden to be released on bail?”

  “Hopefully tomorrow, but Eric said it could take days.”

  “I’m driving to Houston in the morning and I’ll likely be there until Wednesday afternoon. If Hayden is released before that, give me a call and we can set up an appointment for me to meet with Hayden. The meeting will likely not be at Fitch’s law firm.”

  “I’ll bring him wherever you say—whenever you want.”

  “Good. We can decide that later.”

  Tears filled Claire’s eyes again. She sniffled and grabbed a new tissue. “You can’t imagine what this means to me.”

  Rachel could imagine, but she couldn’t let this decision be ruled by emotions. Murder was not a game of hearts. “I hope I can help, Claire. I sincerely hope I can deliver what you’re asking, but remember, all I’m agreeing to now is a meeting with Hayden. We’ll see where it goes from there.”

  When Claire stood to go, she trembled, and for a second Rachel thought she might pass out. Rachel extended an arm for support and Claire leaned against her, her head resting on Rachel’s shoulder.

  Rachel hoped beyond hope that Hayden was the young man his mother believed him to be. But deep down in Rachel’s soul, she had the grievous feeling that he wasn’t.

  * * *