Brazen

by Patricia Rosemoor

  A groan led her closer to the flames dancing along one of the pews. She could see something on the floor moving—Clay trying to raise himself. If he didn’t move fast, he’d be burned! Covering her mouth with her arm so she wouldn’t choke on the smoke, she ran to him, hooked her hands around his upper arm and pulled. More groaning was followed by Clay heaving himself up to his knees with her help. Coughing as he caught onto a pew back directly behind the fire, he struggled to his feet.

  “Let’s get you out of here before the flames spread!” Siobhan choked out.

  The fire was gaining a life of its own, picking up bulk and speed, spreading along the pew and forward toward the altar. The church’s interior began to glow red.

  Siobhan tugged Clay away from the danger. He stumbled after her as several people burst into the church. A few were carrying buckets of water. Siobhan doubted they could put out the fire before the truck and volunteer firemen arrived.

  She pulled Clay outside into the night, where he made rough gasping sounds that scared her. “Are you okay? Sit!” she ordered, indicating a bench on the church grounds.

  He raised his hand and refused to move as he sucked in air. “Okay. I’m okay. Just need to breathe!”

  “What happened?” she asked, trying to see his face by way of light from a streetlamp.

  “Someone hit me.” He put a hand to his head and winced.

  “You could have a concussion!”

  Siobhan grabbed Clay’s face and stared into his eyes, dark pools glittering back at her. For a moment, time—and her pulse—seemed to stop. There were only the two of them as there had been so many times in the past. Clay was alive and she was grateful and without thinking she pressed her lips to his. Only when he responded, only when he pulled her hard against him and deepened the kiss so that her chest tightened and her stomach knotted with need, did she realize her mistake.

  They weren’t alone. And they didn’t belong to each other anymore.

  Gasping, she pushed him away. Embarrassment flooded her.

  A growing crowd of people gathering outside the church had been witness to the kiss. A few people snickered. Feeling her face flood with color, Siobhan checked them over, searching faces for guilt.

  Buck Hale stood at the forefront of the crowd, his expression dark. The other men had gone inside to put out the fire, but not Buck.

  Because he was responsible?

  “Will I live?” Clay suddenly asked.

  “W-what?” Siobhan snapped her attention back to him.

  “You were trying to resuscitate me, right?”

  Siobhan clenched her jaw. “If you’re lucky.” Then she relented. “You need to be checked out by a professional, Clay.”

  “Hey, no damage done. Well, maybe a headache.”

  Digging around in her pocket, she pulled out house keys. Attached to the ring was a small flashlight. Power occasionally went out on the ranch at the wrong time, so she’d learned to be prepared. Too bad she hadn’t had her keys on her the day she’d gotten locked in the tack room.

  “Sit!” she ordered, pushing him down on the bench and then flicking the beam in his face. “Both eyes are evenly dilated, but you’re going to have a spectacular bruise by morning.” A dark flush was already spreading across his left temple. Glancing back at the crowd—at Buck Hale, who still stood there, unmoved—she asked Clay, “Did you see who did this to you?”

  Clay didn’t answer immediately. He glanced over her shoulder, and she knew he was staring at Buck.

  And then he said, “Sheriff Tannen is on the case.”

  Sure enough, Tannen pushed through the crowd and stopped before Clay.

  “What in tarnation happened here? Why would someone want to burn down the church?”

  “You’d have to ask the person who knocked me out,” Clay said, his words half drowned by the wail of the fire truck barreling down the street. “I went inside to have a little time alone to think. Only I wasn’t alone.”

  Though Siobhan knew Clay was lying about the time-to-think part, she didn’t contradict him.

  “You didn’t see anyone?” Tannen asked.

  “Afraid not.”

  “Now why would someone want to knock you out cold?”

  “You’re asking the wrong man, Sheriff.”

  The fire truck pulled up outside the church and the crowd broke up, some people heading home, others simply moving out of the way. It didn’t take long for the volunteers to get inside the church to extinguish what was left of the fire.

  When they were finished, a man trained as a paramedic checked Clay out. “You seem to be okay.”

  “I have a hard head.” To Siobhan, Clay said, “I told you I was all right.”

  “We don’t know that just yet,” the paramedic said. “Symptoms don’t always show up right away.” He turned to Siobhan. “You’ll have to watch him for a concussion tonight. If he has a prolonged headache, dizziness, impaired balance or memory loss, get him to a doctor.”

  Siobhan nodded. “Okay, thanks.”

  Sheriff Tannen was busy talking to the volunteers, undoubtedly trying to figure out what happened. He’d donned latex gloves and was holding a big brass candlestick. Siobhan suspected the attacker had used it on Clay’s head. Wincing in sympathy, she glanced Clay’s way and realized he was looking a little shaky. She figured if Tannen wanted to talk to Clay again, he could ride out to the ranch or call for them to come in.

  Siobhan faced Clay. “Give me your keys and I’ll go get your truck.”

  “We’ll go together,” he countered. “Let’s get out of here now.”

  Clay led the way down the street, away from the people still lingering around the church. When they got to his truck’s tailgate, he removed the keys from his pocket and offered them to her without a fuss. Siobhan gave him a good look—to her relief, he seemed a bit stronger—and then climbed behind the wheel.

  They were on the road before Clay said, “So, you’re going to watch me tonight? Personally?”

  Her stomach squirreled and she quickly said, “I’ll ask Esai to do it.”

  “I’d rather have you…”

  His suggestive tone made her pulse thrum and her lips vibrate. They were alone now, could be alone all night…and that kiss had stirred up old feelings. But this was no time to let down her guard.

  Forcing her mind back to the situation, she asked, “What happened, Clay? What didn’t you tell Sheriff Tannen?”

  “What makes you think I know anything more?”

  “Because I know you. Now spill.”

  For a moment, she didn’t think he would. She glanced at him, caught a glimpse of his angry expression.

  “I was following Galvan and Vargas,” he finally admitted.

  “They make an odd duo.”

  “Exactly what I thought. I arrived just as Galvan came out of the community center with Jacy. Vargas was outside and the next thing I knew the men were arguing about something. They went off down the street together without her. It was obvious Galvan said something to make her leave them.”

  Not very thoughtful of Galvan, Siobhan thought. Did Galvan really care for Jacy or was he just using her?

  “So they went to the church?” she asked.

  “I assumed so. I looked away for a moment and they were gone, so I went inside.”

  “Then one of them knocked you out? Vargas?”

  “Sounds reasonable.”

  Siobhan’s chest tightened. “Does he have reason enough to want to kill you?”

  “I know he doesn’t like me and I suspect there’s not much he wouldn’t do for money, but I’m not sure that’s it.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “What if it’s as simple as one of them spotted me and didn’t want to be seen together? A state senator and an ex-con…”

  “You’re thinking it could have been Galvan? Vargas would have no reason to cover, but a politician being seen with an ex-con might.”

  “No rush to judgment here because I didn’t see whoeve
r it was who knocked me out. But maybe.”

  They both sank into silence. Siobhan couldn’t stop her mind from wandering, worrying, couldn’t stop herself from speculating. Back for two days—forty-eight hours working for her—and already Clay was in danger.

  A chill seeped through her to her very bones.

  When she drove onto ranch property, Clay said, “You’re not really going to pull Esai from whatever he’s doing to babysit me, are you?”

  “He wouldn’t mind.”

  “You’re afraid to be alone with me.”

  Maybe she was, but that wasn’t uppermost on her mind. “I’m just thinking this is all wrong, Clay. I’m the reason you got hurt tonight.”

  The McKenna Legacy at work?

  That couldn’t be, though. The connection was gone, she reminded herself.

  “You weren’t even there,” Clay said. “Look, this probably has nothing to do with you at all. Undoubtedly it was Paco Vargas. He couldn’t get around me when he did his time. A man like Vargas wants to be in charge, which meant we had a couple of altercations at the correctional center. He’s probably been waiting for an opportunity to get even.”

  “To kill you?”

  “If he had wanted me dead I would be dead,” Clay said flatly. “I think he threw over the votive stand to buy time to get out of there.”

  “But you could have burned to death,” she argued, suddenly remembering Buck Hale had been there for the show.

  “But I didn’t.”

  What if it hadn’t been Vargas at all? After what had happened between them, Buck might want to see Clay dead.

  “Thankfully, I got there in time,” she muttered.

  “My heroine.”

  Clay was being dismissive of the danger again.

  Siobhan wanted to argue, to convince him to take the possibility seriously. Considering he thought Jeff had been murdered, she couldn’t believe he was being so cavalier with his own life.

  Having arrived at the split in the road, she had to decide whether or not she was going to take Clay over to the bunkhouse and ask Esai to keep watch over him tonight. Getting too close to Clay was unwise—she couldn’t forget how easily she’d slipped and kissed him out of relief that he was all right—and yet she wasn’t done with him just yet.

  Truthfully, she feared to let him out of her sight, so she headed for the house.

  Parking near the door, Siobhan waited until they were inside before asking, “So why didn’t you tell Sheriff Tannen what you just told me?”

  “Because I don’t have proof, Siobhan. It would go nowhere. And in the meantime, I don’t need Vargas warned that I’m onto him. Or Galvan.”

  “Or Buck Hale. He was one of the first to get to the church after I sounded the alert.”

  “So he didn’t do anything to help, not even to put out the fire. Well, if you can’t depend on anything else about Buck, he always stays true to his nature.”

  Now that the crisis had passed, Siobhan felt let down. And more than a little apprehensive. Clay seemed himself…and that was the problem.

  SIOBHAN WAS A BUNDLE OF nerves. Clay didn’t have to rely on any psychic connection to be aware of that. He only wondered which bothered her more—the dangerous situation at the church or the one right here in her home.

  He couldn’t help himself. “So where do I sleep tonight? The couch? Or…?”

  “Or?”

  “I thought you might have something else in mind.”

  “I—I don’t have an extra bedroom. It was made into an office.”

  He didn’t say anything, simply kept staring at her. Her fair skin flushed and he felt his belly heat in response.

  “The couch,” she said. “I’ll get blankets and pillows. Anything else you want? Chili? Tea?”

  “You.”

  Siobhan blinked and licked her lips, and Clay appreciated how apprehensive he made her. Not that he thought anything was going to happen between them. Or that anything should. He just couldn’t help himself.

  He couldn’t help remembering another time of crisis…

  “SORRY, KID.” Sheriff Tannen pulled down the sheet so Clay could identify the body.

  Clay’s eyes filled but he didn’t let the tears go. With her graying hair loose around her narrow face, Mama looked so small and helpless on that slab. She looked as if she was sleeping, as though she might wake up any minute…

  Only he knew she would never wake up again.

  “What happened?” he choked out.

  “She drowned in the creek,” the sheriff told him. “The one right outside of town.”

  “How?”

  “An accident. It was an accident, son. She’d been drinking, said she was going to walk home. It was raining, slippery. She must have lost her footing. It was an accident, Clay…a terrible accident…”

  Clay nodded as if he understood when his center was molten, threatening to erupt. The pressure had been building since he’d gotten up that morning and realized Mama had never come home. How was he supposed to understand losing the only family he had? How was he supposed to get along now with Siobhan away at school and Mama gone?

  “Is there somebody I can call for you?” Tannen asked.

  “No one,” Clay returned.

  He’d never met any of Mama’s family. He’d never been west of Albuquerque. He’d never been anywhere. He was an adult now. Twenty-one. A man with a job and a heap of responsibility. So why did he suddenly feel like a lost kid?

  “What about Siobhan?” Tannen asked, his voice kind. “I know she’s your girl. You want me to call her for you?”

  Clay shook his head and backed off. “You won’t get her…she’s not here…she’s five hundred miles from here in Fort Collins…”

  And despite her promises, she hadn’t been home once during the year. He hadn’t seen her since last summer.

  He flew out of the clinic and threw himself on his motorcycle and beat the hell out of town. He rode fast and hard and recklessly…the way he’d learned to live since Siobhan had left. And when he burned all his gas, he abandoned the cycle at the side of the road and ran on foot. He didn’t know for how long—hours—until it grew dark. Eventually, he found himself at the shelter. At his and Siobhan’s place.

  He dropped to his knees on the ground.

  He had nothing left. No breath. No stamina. No hope.

  He was done. Spent.

  Alone.

  He must have slept. He didn’t know how long. Dawn was breaking when a noise pulled him up out of a deep, cottony world. He stirred. Sat. Started when he realized that a vehicle was pulling up. Started but didn’t move.

  A car door slammed and then he heard her voice.

  “Clay, Sheriff Tannen called me to tell me about your mother! I came as fast as I could!”

  Siobhan flew at him and he caught her and held her tight. She’d come back for him! She’d come to share in his grief. She did love him, after all.

  At last the tears fell.

  Siobhan was all he had left in the world that mattered now and he would never let her go…

  CLAY BLINKED AND HE WAS back in the room with her. A room that suddenly felt too close.

  He hadn’t let her go. She’d shoved him away. He had to remember that. Had to remember that he couldn’t trust her, not when it came to them.

  “I should go over to the bunkhouse. You need a good night’s sleep.”

  “No, it’s not a problem. You can have my bed. I’ll sleep on the couch,” she offered.

  “It’s not the bed, Siobhan.”

  Heading for the door, he didn’t finish his thought: It’s you.

  Chapter Nine

  “Ready to head out?” Siobhan asked, voice tight, as she stacked the dishwasher the next morning.

  Clay figured she was uncomfortable with him because of the kiss she now undoubtedly regretted. They were alone in the house. Esai and Ben were already on the job. Clay was certain the tension between him and Siobhan had inspired the men to inhale their breakfasts an
d run. Undoubtedly, they already had the horses saddled and waiting for them.

  “I just need to make a couple of calls about Galvan while I can get a signal.”

  Pulling out his cell phone, Clay clicked on the number for the trainer office at the correctional center.

  What if they did find something that proved Siobhan’s late husband had been murdered?

  No doubt that would send her in a tailspin. Not wanting to think about that part—about her emotional commitment to another man—Clay concentrated on the fact that he was doing this to protect Siobhan. As long as the murderer roamed free, she never would be safe.

  “Trainer’s office,” came a familiar voice at the other end of the phone.

  “Aaron, it’s Clay. Is Manny around? I need to talk to him for just a minute.”

  “I just saw him. Hang on.”

  As he waited, Clay watched Siobhan straighten the kitchen. She was self-conscious this morning, darting her gaze away from him whenever she realized he was looking at her. Still thinking about what might have happened if he’d bunked in the house as she’d wanted? The thought had buzzed around in his head all night, both when he’d been awake and asleep. He couldn’t get it out of his head now, even though he knew it was a bad idea.

  “Hey, Clay?” Manny said, lowering his voice to a near whisper. “Sorry, but I don’t got nothin’ for you yet.”

  “That’s okay. I have something else in mind. I’m trying to get some information on Raul Galvan.”

  “The politician?”

  “Then you know who he is.”

  “Everyone knows.” Manny kept his voice low. It sounded muffled, as if he was covering his mouth with his free hand. “He’s the one who’s big on bringing uranium mining to this part of the state.”

  “Keep listening, and if you get the opportunity, maybe you can find a way to bring up Galvan’s name. There’s an article about his spearheading the push to mine uranium in today’s Albuquerque Journal.”

  Clay had skimmed the article over breakfast. Unfortunately, it hadn’t given him anything new.

  “I’ll get hold of one in the mess hall. I can say something about it, see what happens.”

  “That’s the idea. If something is up between Galvan and Vargas, chances are Frank Dudley knows about it. Just be careful it doesn’t look like you’re too interested.”