Til Death Do Us Part

by Beverly Barton

  J.T. didn’t know if he could hold on much longer; the tight clutching of her body brought him to the very edge. The moment he felt her shatter into paroxysms of release, he hammered into her repeatedly, his own release coming hard and fast. He cried out, the sound one of a triumphant male animal. Pure masculine completion controlled his body.

  His jackhammer thrusts created anew the climactic spasms within her. Her moans of pleasure grew louder and louder. In the final moments, he uttered Navajo words to her, words neither of them understood. “Ayóí óosh’ni.” But in her secret heart of hearts, Joanna believed she knew what J.T. had said to her, even if he did not. His words were Benjamin Greymountain’s words—his proclamation of love to Annabelle.

  J.T. wrapped his arms around Joanna, their bodies resting spoon-fashion. He lay there, holding her, listening to the soft, sweet sound of her breathing as she slept peacefully, sated and safe. Somehow he’d allowed this beautiful, loving woman to get under his skin, to get past the protective armor he’d kept securely around his emotions. He was a fool for getting personally involved with her, but heaven help him, he had never wanted or needed a woman so much.

  He had promised her that he’d never hurt her, but he had lied. He had lied as much to himself as he had to her. Oh, he’d never hurt her physically, but he knew that sooner or later he’d break her heart. And for a woman like Joanna, his precious romantic Joanna, breaking her heart would be far more devastating.

  She believed in things he didn’t, and wanted more from him than he had to give. He almost wished he could be the man she wanted. But he couldn’t. She wanted him to be the reincarnation of Benjamin Greymountain; to come to her with a Navajo soul, to love her with a mindless passion. Joanna wanted the two of them to capture the spirit of their ancestors and bring to life the love Annabelle and Benjamin had taken to their graves.

  When Joanna awoke, they made love again. Sweet, slow love, each learning the other’s body by touch and taste and sight. The burning sun melted into the late-afternoon sky, splaying the earth with golden light. They dressed unhurriedly, taking time to savor their last moments alone in this special place. Joanna clasped Annabelle’s book of poetry to her breast. A shadowy sense of sadness settled on her heart. Would this be the only day she and J.T. would make love here? Was there no future for them?

  J.T. helped her mount Playtime, then took the book from her and put it in her saddlebag. “Time to go back to the ranch. Elena and Alex should be home by now, even if Elena did a lot of shopping while they were in Santa Fe.”

  Joanna nodded. Yes, it was time to go back to the ranch, back to reality, back to the threat on her life.

  JOANNA AND J.T. returned Washington and Playtime to the stables, taking time to give their horses a rubdown themselves, instead of handing them over to a stable hand.

  “After we shower, how about my grilling steaks tonight?” J.T. said. “We can call Alex and Elena and see if they want to join us.”

  “Sounds like a great idea.” She tiptoed her fingers up J.T.’s arm. “Especially the part about taking a shower.”

  “Are you suggesting we shower together?” He slipped his arm around her waist and drew her to his side.

  “I’ve never taken a shower with anybody. It would be another new experience for me.”

  J.T. eased his hand down, spreading it out over her behind. “I’m glad I’m the one who’s getting to share all these new experiences with you.”

  Joanna unlocked the front door and walked into her house, with J.T. following her, his hand still on her rear end. She gasped when she saw the state of her living room. She rushed inside, then stopped dead still. J.T. cursed.

  “The place is a total wreck,” she said. “What could have— Oh, my God, no!”

  J.T. came up behind her, draped his arm around her middle and rested his chin against her temple. “Take it easy, honey.”

  “The room’s been ransacked,” she said.

  Sofa and chair cushions lay haphazardly about the floor. Lamps had been shattered and pictures ripped from the walls. Someone had done a thorough job of plundering, turning neatness and order into total disarray. Pulling away from J.T., Joanna crossed the room to the easel that held Elena’s portrait.

  “Dammit!” she cried when she saw the defaced painting. “He destroyed Elena’s picture.”

  J.T. read the message that had been written in red paint across the surface of his sister’s portrait. “I’ll be back.” He gripped Joanna by the shoulders, then closed his eyes for a moment, a burning black rage searing him.

  “He’s been here.” Joanna trembled in J.T.’s arms. “He’s been inside my home. How did this happen? Why didn’t someone see him and stop him?”

  “I don’t know.” J.T. tightened his hold on her, silently cursing Lenny Plott, damning his soul to everlasting hell. The man was a slippery, slimy, conniving polecat. Somehow he had slid past Dane Carmichael and Hal Landers when he’d come through Trinidad. But what if he hadn’t come through Trinidad? It was possible that he’d gone southwest, then north and had doubled back in the opposite direction.

  J.T. knew from having read reports on him that Leonard Plott III was a sick, evil man, but he was nobody’s fool. In his own way, the man was a genius, having raped dozens of women and eluded the police in Virginia for several years. If his last rape victim’s boyfriend hadn’t returned home unexpectedly, Plott might never have been caught.

  Not only was Plott smart, he was rich. And with his kind of money, he could buy just about anything he needed—even certain people’s help and other people’s silence.

  Leonard Plott was a dangerous animal. Sooner or later, someone was going to have to bring him down. J.T. wanted to be the one to do it.

  “It’s not safe here, is it?” Joanna turned in J.T.’s arms. He hugged her fiercely. “I’m not safe anywhere from that monster.”

  “You’re safe with me,” J.T. told her. “Right this minute, you’re safe. Here. In my arms. And I’m going to keep you safe.”

  “What are we going to do? He’ll be back. He won’t stop until he’s—”

  “Don’t say it, honey. Don’t even think it. If you don’t feel safe here on the ranch, we’ll find another place.”

  “Someplace where he can’t find me?” Joanna asked. “Dear God, J.T., I don’t think such a place exists.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “WE’RE GOING TO catch this guy,” Dane Carmichael said. “It’s only a matter of time.”

  “Time isn’t on our side.” J.T. glanced across the room at his old FBI friend and Special Agent Landers, the two men seated side by side on the leather sofa in J.T.’s study. “Plott has already kidnapped and killed one woman, and possibly a second. And today, he came onto my ranch, right under our noses, and ransacked Joanna’s home. No one saw him. Not one person on this ranch had any idea an intruder was anywhere around. That should tell us all something about Plott, shouldn’t it?”

  “It tells me what I’ve known all along. That we’re dealing with a highly intelligent and very dangerous criminal.” Uncrossing his legs, Dane eased to the edge of the sofa. “His access to an unlimited amount of money makes our job more difficult and his revenge scheme easier for him to achieve.”

  J.T. cut his gaze toward Joanna, who sat in the swivel chair behind his desk. He had asked her to let him speak privately with Carmichael and Landers, but she’d insisted on being present. He understood her need to be involved with the investigation; after all, it was her life on the line. She was one of Plott’s prey, possibly his next intended victim. She looked up at J.T. and nodded, silently telling him that she was all right.

  “It doesn’t help that Plott has somehow changed his appearance,” Agent Landers said. “He didn’t have time to get any kind of plastic surgery done, so whatever changes he’s made have to be superficial. Dyed his hair, maybe. Possibly got contacts. There’s no way to know.”

  “We’ve been running checks in Richmond, passing out Plott’s photograph to see if anyon
e anywhere recognizes him. We’re desperate for a lead of some sort.” Dane stretched his long lean frame up and off the sofa. “But a man with Plott’s money can pay people off, get whatever help he needs and make sure nobody talks.”

  “His mother insists she hasn’t seen him or talked to him,” Landers said. “But Lieutenant George has told us that the old woman would do anything to protect her son.”

  “Has the FBI sent more agents to Texas to protect Libby?” Joanna asked. “I know that she can’t afford private security any more than Claire could have.”

  “We’re taking every precaution where Ms. Felton is concerned,” Dane assured Joanna. “In Shelby, where Ms. Felton lives, we’ve brought the local authorities in on the case, just as we’re doing here in Trinidad.”

  “You understand that resources and manpower are limited, Ms. Beaumont,” Landers said. “We’re doing all that we can. And I can assure you that we’re going to get Lenny Plott.”

  “Before or after he kills all four of the women who testified against him?” Although she quivered inside, Joanna’s voice was strong and steady.

  J.T. noticed that her tight little fists rested in her lap. Lifting himself up from where he’d had his hip propped against the edge of the desk, J.T. walked around behind the desk and gripped the back of the swivel chair.

  “I’m taking Joanna away,” J.T. said. “First thing in the morning, we’re leaving the ranch.”

  “There’s no need to do that, Mr. Blackwood.” Agent Landers jumped up off the sofa. “Dane’s bringing in more agents, and we’ve got the local police department and county sheriff’s office to back us up.”

  “Where do you think you can take her where she’ll be safer than she is here?” Dane asked.

  J.T. glanced at Dane, then over at Landers. “To the Navajo reservation. My sister is making arrangements with members of our mother’s family. Elena and Alex will know how to reach us.”

  “See here, Blackwood, are you saying you plan to take Ms. Beaumont to some sort of hideaway on the Indian reservation?” Landers asked. “I don’t recommend this move, and if you insist on—”

  “I insist.” J.T. glared at Landers.

  Landers’s face reddened. He cleared his throat. “In that case, I’ll have to insist on our knowing your exact whereabouts. Perhaps you can have your sister draw a map and give us telephone numbers where we can locate you.”

  “Dane has my cellular phone number,” J.T. said. “And the tribal police will know our whereabouts.”

  “I don’t understand your reasoning.” Landers marched across the room, stopping in front of the huge oak desk. “You’ve got the FBI here, as well as local authorities as a backup, and you’re taking Ms. Beaumont out in the middle of nowhere and expect the tribal police to protect her.”

  “You’ve said too much,” Dane told his subordinate.

  Snapping his head around, Landers glowered at Dane, who was watching J.T. Landers looked at J.T., then swallowed hard. “I didn’t mean—”

  “I’ll protect Ms. Beaumont,” J.T. said. “I expect the FBI to do their job and find Lenny Plott.”

  Landers wisely kept his mouth shut when Dane Carmichael asked J.T. to walk them outside. Dane said goodbye to Joanna, then motioned for Landers to follow him into the hallway.

  J.T. slipped his hands down the back of the chair, grasped Joanna’s shoulders and squeezed. “I’ll be back in a few minutes and we’ll talk to Elena and Alex.”

  She laid both of her hands atop his, patting him reassuringly. “Try not to kill Agent Landers before he leaves the ranch.”

  J.T. chuckled. “It’ll be an effort to keep from strangling him, but I’ll do my best.”

  Joanna watched J.T. follow the FBI agents. Leaning over, she rested her elbows on the desk, then lowered her chin, cupping it in her hands.

  In such a short period of time, her whole life had changed. She had found peace and contentment in Trinidad, and her career as an artist had excelled beyond her wildest dreams. And after waiting for so many years to find a special man to love, J. T. Blackwood had ridden his Appaloosa stallion into her life.

  But as he had done once before, Lenny Plott threatened to destroy her happiness.

  “Are you all right?” Elena’s question interrupted Joanna’s thoughts.

  Joanna gasped, then looked up to see Elena standing in the doorway. “I’m fine. Come on in. J.T. will be right back. He’s seeing the FBI agents to their car.”

  Elena nodded, then walked across the room and lifted herself up on the desk. Dangling her legs off the side, she faced Joanna. “I just got off the phone with my cousin Kate and she’s going to go out tonight and tidy up Mama’s house. No one has lived there since she died, but Kate and Ed keep an eye on the place and Kate airs it out and cleans it a couple of times a year.”

  “I remember you telling me about your home on the reservation,” Joanna said. “I had planned to have Kate take me out there to see it the next time I visited her.”

  “Now, you’ll be living there with J.T.” Elena bent over, leaning closer to Joanna. “He’s been back to the reservation only three times since he was a child. Once when Mama was dying, and again a few days later for her funeral. Then the last time, to get me and bring me back to the ranch.”

  “Maybe our stay in your mother’s home will help J.T. as much as taking refuge there might keep me safe from Lenny Plott.” Joanna clasped Elena’s hands. “I’m in love with your brother, you know. I didn’t mean for it to happen, but it did. He hasn’t made me any promises—other than to guard and protect me.”

  “J.T.’s afraid to love anyone,” Elena said. “I know he cares about me, but…well, I think maybe Mama was the only person he ever loved. You know, when he was a little boy. After he was taken from the reservation, he was told Mama had given him away because she didn’t want him anymore. That cruel grandfather of his taught him to hate Mama and everything Navajo. Old John Thomas Blackwood saw to it that J.T. grew up hard and cold and cynical, just like him.”

  “I think J.T. needs to come to terms with his mixed heritage.” Releasing Elena’s hands, Joanna rose from the chair and walked over to the window, looking out at her converted bunkhouse. “If only he would allow himself to be the man he is. Half white. Half Navajo.”

  “He told me once that the reason he didn’t stay in New Mexico is because out here he isn’t either. Not white and not Native American. He doesn’t feel accepted by either people, doesn’t feel a part of either world. But in the marines and then in the Secret Service, he was just J. T. Blackwood. A soldier. An agent. His past didn’t matter. He had a job to do and he did it.”

  “But he has no personal life. No real home, despite having inherited this ranch from his grandfather,” Joanna said. “And although, as you say, he cares about you, he won’t let himself be part of a family.”

  “You’ve gotten to know J.T. very well in a short period of time, haven’t you?” Elena smiled. “I knew you and J.T. would be good for each other, if I ever got you together.”

  “I don’t know about that. Sometimes I think maybe J.T. and I are very bad for each other. I’ve fallen in love with him and I trust him with my life, but… Well, there’s still a part of me that doesn’t completely trust anyone. I love J.T., but I don’t trust him with that love. He can’t make a commitment to me, can’t promise me a future. And I don’t trust what there is between us enough to believe we have a chance together.”

  “Be patient with him. Try to have faith in his ability to change.” Elena walked over and placed her hand on Joanna’s shoulder. “If you can learn to trust him and trust what you feel for him completely, then maybe he can learn how to love you.”

  “Maybe I’m the wrong woman for him.” Joanna stepped away from Elena. Stretching her shoulders, she clasped the back of her neck with both hands and tilted her head. She took a deep breath, relaxed and dropped her arms to her sides. “After what happened to me…the rape…maybe I’ll never be enough woman for a man like J.T. He’s
so…so…”

  “All man,” Elena said. “Yeah, my big brother is primitive macho masculinity personified, isn’t he? But I’ll tell you what I think. I think that if J.T. can’t love you, he can’t love anybody.”

  “Where’s J.T.?” Alex walked into the study.

  “Seeing the FBI men off,” Elena told him. “Did you tell Benito that J.T. wants to take Washington and Playtime with him when he leaves in the morning?”

  “Yes, I told Benito. He’ll have them in a trailer and have it hitched to J.T.’s Jeep by eight in the morning,” Alex said. “J.T.’s already told me that he wants to get an early start.”

  “I’ll have to go back over to my house to pack.” Joanna dreaded walking into her living room again, although she knew J.T. had asked Benito’s wife, Rita, who worked as a part-time maid for Elena, to clean and straighten the mess Lenny Plott had created. “I want to take some supplies and try to do some work while I’m gone. We have no idea how long we’ll be away. It could be days or even weeks.”

  “There’s an old hogan close to Mama’s house,” Elena said. “My great-grandparents lived there. You might want to do some sketches.”

  “Are you saying this hogan belonged to Benjamin Greymountain?” Joanna asked.

  Elena nodded. “While you have J.T. on the reservation, see if you can get him to open himself up to our heritage and become acquainted with our relatives. You know our mother’s family far better than J.T. does.”

  “I’ll try,” Joanna said.

  Returning to his study, J.T. found Alex and Elena with Joanna. Taking Joanna to the reservation had been Elena’s idea, but after giving it some thought, J.T. had agreed with her. There was no way to predict what Lenny Plott’s next move would be or when he would act. One thing for sure, he knew exactly where Joanna lived and how to get to her. Taking her away was the wisest move. Of course, even on the reservation, hidden away from the world, there was no guarantee that Plott wouldn’t figure out a way to find her.