by Debra Webb
And before they answered to their maker for their sins, each one would realize that it had never been what if wicked old Clare won one of her many appeals. It had always been simply a matter of time.
There was no escaping destiny.
Clare bowed her head and began to pray. She prayed for strength, for courage to stay her course. Once it was done, she cared little what happened to her.
She lifted her gaze to the photos worn by time and the caress of her fingers. Mommy was here now. The waiting and wondering would soon be over.
Chapter Five
Second Chance Ranch, 6:00 p.m.
Sadie washed up and tossed the hand towel aside. What was she doing? Her reflection didn’t give her the answer she wanted to see. All she saw in the mirror was a woman who still wanted the only man she’d ever loved. The man who’d left her with painful words that rang in her ears to this day.
I can’t do this, Sadie. You’re just a kid. I don’t have time for games.
Anger and hurt—yes, hurt—twisted her heart. He’d left and she’d cried herself to sleep every night for months. What the hell was she doing allowing him to worm his way back into her life for any reason? The answer resonated in her brain as clearly as the last words he’d uttered to her all those years ago. Despite their miserable history, a tiny piece of her wanted to believe that it could be different now. Yeah, he was still six years older than her, but she was twenty-two—soon to be twenty-three—a lifetime away from fifteen.
Did that really change anything? Of course not. Just because he was here to do a job didn’t mean he felt any different today than he had seven years ago. Did she? She’d thought she was way over Lyle McCaleb ages ago, but apparently she’d been lying to herself.
As angry and disgusted as she was with her own stupidity and his audacity, she might as well get this over with. Her excuses for hanging out in the bathroom had run out. Time to face the reality of this bizarre turn of events and get some answers from the man.
Taking a big breath, she opened the door and stalled. What was that smell? Fried potatoes? She sniffed the air like a beagle on the scent of a rabbit. Corn bread? Her mouth watered as much at the memory of her grandmother’s cooking the scents evoked as at the delicious smells themselves wafting from her kitchen right now.
Lyle cooking? No way. Had Walley, the last employee to leave her high and dry and the only one who could cook, come crawling back? Not likely. He was far too afraid of Gus. She wandered to the kitchen, pausing in the doorway to get the lay of the land. No Walley in sight. Hat hanging on a kitchen chair, a red-and-white striped dish towel slung over one broad shoulder, Lyle McCaleb stirred what she presumed to be the potatoes revving her appetite. Sadie leaned against the door frame, too shocked to speak or maybe too curious to risk interrupting. This was a side of Lyle she had never seen. Then again, the fact that their every encounter before had been on the sly might have something to do with that.
He checked the oven, allowing more of that heavenly aroma of fresh-baked corn bread to sift through the air. Still apparently oblivious to her presence, he rummaged through the slim pickings of her supplies, opening one cupboard after the other, and came up with a can she recognized as beans she’d forgotten was there. Probably some of her grandmother’s leftover supplies. While the electric can opener whined with the effort of releasing the contents of the can, her attention somehow got trapped on Lyle’s backside, specifically the fit of his jeans. He’d been handsome and nicely built before, but now he was…she licked her lips…just plain hot. As if her traitorous body needed to prove the theory, heat simmered through her limbs, settling in that place she had ignored for way too long.
Stop, Sadie. Lyle was here. Out of the blue. She’d tried to reason out his explanation for showing up, but it didn’t add up. As far as she knew, Gus wasn’t doing anything differently than he’d done for years. Why would the authorities be interested in him now? Just because he was a greedy, ruthless SOB didn’t make him a criminal. Just a heartless bastard who happened to be her father, unfortunately. Lyle had suggested her name had been mentioned in whatever trouble was brewing. That was nothing new. She spent most of her time on somebody’s horse manure list and ignoring the sheriff’s stern warnings.
No. She straightened and steeled herself for a fight. This excuse of his for requesting her cooperation didn’t hold water. She wouldn’t accuse him of lying, but he was most definitely hedging the truth. As curious as she was about him and what he’d been up to the past seven years, everyone knew that curiosity killed the cat.
“Looks like you’ve picked up a few new skills while you’ve been away.” She crossed her arms over her chest and strolled over to the stove. Yep, fried potatoes. Browned to a nice crisp. Her stomach rumbled. She hadn’t eaten anything that fit into the home-cooked category in ages. Eggs didn’t count unless they were a part of a casserole or other dish. Walley had been the one to dare to stock fresh vegetables. After he’d gone, they’d all ended up horse treats before going bad. Except for the potatoes. She’d been known to pop one in the microwave and wait for the explosion indicating it was done.
“When you live alone—” Lyle wiped his hands on the towel then deposited it on the counter “—you learn to fend for yourself.”
Well, well. It appeared things hadn’t worked out with the other woman. She had noted there was no ring on the appropriate finger. No rings at all, as a matter of fact. Was that glee flittering around in her tummy or just more hunger pangs? Get to the point, girl. If she was nice she would start by telling him how much she appreciated the work he’d accomplished on the barn roof, but she wasn’t feeling too nice right now. “We have to talk.”
He bent down and pulled the bread from the oven. Her knees practically went weak with desire—only this time it was about the way that fresh, hot corn bread smelled. She was starving! He flipped the iron skillet and a perfect, round cake of bread settled on the plate. Hers never came out looking like that. She generally had to scrape it out of the skillet in a crumbled mess.
“How about we eat first?” He emptied the beans into a pan. “Five minutes and I’ll be good to go here.” He flaunted one of those sexy smiles that came naturally to him. “Milk sounds good. You could pour us a tall glass and set the table.”
Milk? What was she, fifteen again? She squared her shoulders. “I have beer.” She hoped she had beer. And he could set the table himself.
He gave the beans a stir. “None for me. I’ll stick with the milk.”
For some reason his declining ticked her off. “That’s right, you’re working.”
He gave her another of those cute-as-hell smiles. “What kind of bodyguard would I be if I allowed my senses to be dulled on the job?”
Bodyguard? She started to challenge the idea, but the thought drifted away as she got lost visually measuring those broad shoulders. She really needed to get out more. It took some effort and a mental knock upside the head to redirect her attention to ferreting out the beer she hoped she had. Sadie opened the door of the fridge her grandmother had bought several decades before she was born and studied the meager contents. Milk, eggs, half a stick of butter. One beer lying on its side way in the back. Thank goodness. She wasn’t really a beer drinker, but if she’d ever needed one it was now. Three or four might have better served the purpose of escape from this weird situation.
She popped the top while Lyle served up the goods he’d prepared. Her stomach demanded that she follow his suggestion and eat first. Fine. She dragged out a chair and dropped into it. They would talk after dinner. Lyle placed a plate laden with potatoes, beans and corn bread in front of her, along with a fork and a napkin. A cloth napkin. Sadie frowned. “Where—?”
“In the middle drawer of the buffet in the dining room.” He placed the same on his side of the table. “You’ve got napkins and tablecloths in several patterns and colors.”
She’d lived in this house going on two years and didn’t have a clue where those napkins were stored. She f
ingered the yellow one he’d chosen. Sniffed it, the aroma of cedar-lined drawers taking her back. Her grandmother had saved her best cloth napkins for special occasions, but the solid-colored ones like this had been on the table every day. How had she forgotten that? Sadie shook off the memories and placed the napkin in her lap.
Lyle poured himself a glass of milk and downed half of it before he reached the table. Sadie looked away. The way his throat moved as he drank or the way he licked his lips afterward shouldn’t bother her. He was the enemy. Funny, it seemed all the men in her life were enemies of one sort or the other. Didn’t say much for her relationship skills. Or her choices in associates.
A long swallow of beer didn’t make her feel any less flustered. Maybe another would do the trick. By the time she settled the can on the table it was more than half-empty. Reluctantly, she picked up her fork. She was starving but she detested the idea of him seeing he’d done good. And man, had he done good. The potatoes were crispy on the outside and soft on the inside. And the bread was moist with a firm, rich crust. How the heck did he know how to do this?
Sadie blocked out all else and devoured the meal. She swallowed the last bite of bread and barely stifled a satisfied moan. Using the cloth napkin she was glad he’d found, she dabbed her lips, all the while considering seconds. That feeling of being watched scrambled across her skin. She looked up to find him staring at her. She blinked. Her fingers found and curled around the half empty can of beer. She finished it off to prevent having to speak or maintain eye contact. Maybe she hadn’t kept all those appreciative moans to herself.
Lyle ate more slowly than she and he was nowhere near finished. Sadie worked hard at waiting him out but she couldn’t do it. Watching his lips wrap around the fork was too much. She pushed back her chair and stood. “I’ll clean up.” He started to argue but she waved him off and moved on. As badly as she wanted to know the details of his unexpected appearance, she couldn’t talk right now.
She’d fed the dogs, stored the leftovers, washed the cookware and her plate and utensils by the time he arrived at her side, his plate and fork in hand. Before he could strike up a conversation—the one she’d come in here to have and then chickened out—she thrust the hand towel at him. “Wipe down the table.”
Rushing to finish first, she washed the last plate, rinsed her hands, dried them on her jeans and got out of there. Out of the house—the house that was suddenly filled with him and his hot body and wondrous new talents. Pretending seven years ago hadn’t happened was mentally beyond her at the moment, yet somehow her body hadn’t gotten the message. Sadie collapsed in the old wicker rocker that badly needed a fresh coat of white paint and pulled her knees up to her chest. Her dogs stretched out around her, full and happy.
For the first time in her life she felt good about herself and what she was accomplishing. Why did he have to show up now and stir around all those old feelings of inadequacy? She’d finally moved on with her life. What did fate have against her? Was it too much to ask for a small reprieve between dramatic episodes?
The screen door grumbled as he pushed it open and joined her on the porch. He walked over to the chair right next to her and lowered his tall frame there. As much as she recognized that there were many things that needed to be said, she didn’t want to talk. Definitely didn’t want to hear his voice or smell that earthy male scent of his. His presence was driving her nuts. The longer he was here, the more jittery she got. Why couldn’t she shut out all that stimuli and pretend it didn’t matter?
Because she was weak when it came to him, and she hated weakness.
“I was wrong not to call.”
He didn’t look at her as he said the words. Not that she looked at him either, except a sneak peek from the corner of her eyes, but she wasn’t the one seemingly trying to make the past right. “You said that already.” Twice.
“When it became clear that this case involved you,” he went on, still staring off across the land that had been in the Gilmore family for six generations, “I asked myself if coming here was the right thing to do or if it would be best to let another, more objective investigator take over.”
The idea shouldn’t have unsettled her. But like everything else about him, it did. “Why didn’t you?” She resisted looking at him, but failed. His profile was exactly as she remembered. A little more chiseled and defined. The one night they had spent together in each other’s arms, she’d lain awake and watched him breathe. He’d refused to make love to her, kept telling her it would be wrong. She was too young. The memory hurt her chest. The next day she had pleaded with him to stay. He’d left anyway, breaking her heart into a thousand pieces.
He’d better have a damned good reason for barging back into her life now. Whatever the reason, she wanted the whole truth. She willed him to meet her gaze so she could confirm the words he intended to say. As difficult as being this close was, she wasn’t letting him take the easy way out. Sadie Gilmore used her brain for guidance more often than her heart these days.
Finally, he surrendered his full attention to her. “I couldn’t risk that someone else might fail to protect you the way I would.”
There it was—that shiver his voice had always set off deep inside her when they were this close. “I can protect myself,” she argued for all the good it would do. He was as stubborn as she was. “I’ve been doing it for quite some time now. Maybe you hadn’t noticed.” Sadie held up her hands stop-sign fashion. “Wait, that’s right. You weren’t here.” Good grief, could she wave her woman-scorned flag any more vigorously? She should be handling this better. No, she shouldn’t be talking to him at all. He was the one with the explaining to do. Stay calm. Keep your mouth shut.
He exhaled a frustrated breath. “I don’t doubt your ability to take care of yourself, Sadie. Not for a minute.” He twisted in the chair, putting himself face-to-face with her. “You’ve done a damned good job. I admire what you’ve accomplished. But you have to trust me when I say you can’t do this alone. This is different from any of the troubles you’ve faced head-on in the past. You need my help.”
She searched his eyes, fear trickling into her chest. The reality of the situation abruptly sank past the bitterness and resentment she’d used as a defense against him and his memory all this time. Whatever he hadn’t told her, she suddenly knew without doubt it was bad. Really bad. His eyes told the story his words hadn’t quite given her yet. That was why he was here. He hadn’t finally returned to make amends. Gus was in big trouble. Her, too, apparently.
“That’s ridiculous. What could possibly be so terrible?” Her voice trembled with that blasted fear she couldn’t dismiss and a tad of silly disappointment. She loathed showing him that infernal weakness. She hated even more that she so desperately wanted to lean on him. Sadie Gilmore, the girl who thought she could take on the world. How could he still possess the power to make her feel needy when there wasn’t a man in this county who could even come close?
* * *
LYLE HESITATED. He had to choose his words and his actions carefully. The photo album was in the truck. He could show it to her. Get it all out in the open and shatter her world in one fell swoop. But that would be taking a major risk. The shock would make her irrational, and cooperation would go out the window. He needed her complete cooperation in order to protect her from this threat. There were steps that needed to be taken. Confirmation that Sadie really was Sarah, the same for the other women pointed to as allegedly being the Barkers’ missing, presumed-dead children. Two of the Colby Agency’s best were already in place with the middle and older daughters.
“More than twenty years ago,” he began the cover story he’d decided upon, “a couple in Granger were arrested for a series of murders. The Barkers, Raymond and Clare.” He watched for any recognition in her eyes before continuing. If she remembered the murders he saw no indication in her expression. She’d been just a toddler at the time. “Two days ago Clare Barker was released after winning an appeal that reversed her conviction
. There are those who believe she should not have been released and that she poses a threat to anyone she may have had association with before her arrest.”
“What does that have to do with me or Gus?”
Now for the sticky part. “That’s where things get a little murky. We don’t have a definitive link between your father and Clare Barker, but there is some indication that he may be on her list of former associates and, as I said, that makes him and his family a target. Particularly his family. Generally, in these cases, the family is used to ensure the desired outcome.”
The beginnings of true fear clouded her face. “If it’s Gus’s name on her list, then it’s my father who needs protection. The idea that she might come after me is just speculation.”
“Considering the personal security he surrounds himself with, we felt you were the most accessible target. If Gus has something or knows something that Barker wants, you would be the fastest way to pressure him for cooperation.”
“Like he cares what happens to me.” Sadie made a sound of disbelief, even though his theory made an undeniable sense that showed in her eyes. “He’d like nothing more than to get me out of the way.”
“I think you know that isn’t true. The two of you have your differences, but you’re still his only child.” At least legally. Damn, this wasn’t going to be easy.
“So this threat is real.” She hesitated. “The real reason you came back.”
The disappointment in her voice, in her eyes was impossible to miss. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her again, and apparently he’d already done that. “The threat is real. I am here to protect you, that’s true. But I should have come back a long time ago. It shouldn’t have taken something like this.” He had to look away. “The way I left things was wrong and there’s no excuse for that.”
“Well.” She dropped her feet to the floor and stood, avoiding eye contact. “I have chores.”
