The Enemy's Daughter

by Linda Turner

  His arms around Lise’s waist, Russell bent low over Thunder’s neck and urged the horse faster. The sun had finally slipped over the horizon, and darkness was quickly falling, but not fast enough for Russell. They’d outwitted Simon for now, but Russell didn’t fool himself into thinking the bastard wouldn’t come after them. He could practically feel Simon breathing down his neck.

  Glancing at the sky, he prayed. Come on darkness. Don’t fail me now. All he needed was time. Time to evade Simon while SPEAR closed in. And darkness would make that a hell of a lot easier.

  Listening for the sound of pursuit—and the arrival of his backup—Russell breathed into Lise’s ear. “How long can he keep up this pace?”

  “He’s carrying a double load,” she replied huskily. “Maybe another mile or two.”

  Russell swore under his breath. That wouldn’t give them nearly enough time, but it would have to do. All his attention focused on Thunder’s pace and breathing, they rode on.

  Later, he couldn’t have said when the light began to fail. One minute, he could clearly see where they were going, and the next, he couldn’t. “All right! It’s about damn time.”

  “They’ll never find us now,” Lise said excitedly, easing back on Thunder’s reins until she slowed him to a walk. “We did it! Oh, Russell!”

  He hadn’t realized how long he’d been waiting for her to call him by his real name until then. Something went through him, rippling right through his heart, and when she turned in the saddle and threw her arms around him, he could have held her like that for hours.

  Simon, however, had different ideas. Just as Russell leaned forward to kiss her, she stiffened, her gaze moving past him to the dark horizon behind them. “Oh, God!”

  At her horrified whisper, he jerked around to see what had caught her attention—and swore like a sailor. He’d underestimated Simon. Russell had stupidly thought Simon would have to let them go once darkness fell and it became impossible for his men to follow their trail. He should have known the bastard was too ruthless to let a little thing like darkness stop him. Instead, he’d set the bush on fire.

  “Son of a bitch!” he muttered. “We’ve got to get out of here! That thing’s going to spread like wildfire in this wind.”

  Even as he spoke, the wind caught the flames that danced on the horizon, and between one heartbeat and another, the fire had taken on a life of its own. The dry plant life of the bush fed the flames like alcohol. Flaring into a raging inferno, the fire raced through the night toward them.

  Her heart pounding crazily, Lise told herself it couldn’t possibly reach them. But even as they watched, the wind shifted slightly. Suddenly, Lise could have sworn she smelled the smoke from where they stood. Thunder agreed. Shifting under them, he whinnied nervously.

  There was no time to soothe him, no time to do anything but run for their lives. Turning, she urged the horse forward, and he leaped to do their bidding in spite of the fact that he was nearly spent. His long, powerful legs stretching out, he carried the two of them deeper and deeper into the bush.

  The three of them were, however, running a race they couldn’t win. Mother Nature didn’t play fair, and suddenly, the wind that had been blowing steadily from the southeast was swirling all around them. Caught by the capricious breeze, flames skipped ahead of the main fire like pebbles across a lake, lighting little hot spots along the way. With a roar, new fires were all around them. Within minutes, they were outflanked, and the flames were in danger of flaring out of control.

  They were trapped.

  “Son of a bitch!” Russell muttered as Lise pulled back on Thunder’s reins and turned him in a circle, searching for a way out. There was none. “The bastard has us surrounded.”

  Her heart in her throat, Lise had never been more frightened in her life. “No! This has to be a mistake. My father knows I’m with you. He wouldn’t deliberately put me in danger. It’s the wind. It fanned the fire out of control.”

  “Your father set the fire,” he snapped. “In this wind, he had to know we couldn’t outrun it.”

  “It was just so he could see us,” she said desperately. “He didn’t know this was going to happen.”

  Russell heard the pain in her voice, the hurt, and wished he could make this easier for her, but he couldn’t. She had to know who and what her father was. “I know you don’t want to hear this,” he said roughly, “but don’t kid yourself into thinking your father will back off because you might get caught in the cross fire. He doesn’t care! He’ll sacrifice anyone—even his own daughter—to destroy SPEAR.”

  “No!”

  “Yes, sweetheart. I told you—he’s an evil man. I can’t tell you how many people have died because of him. He’s ruthless. Once, when we almost captured him in Brussels, he threw a man in front of a train to get away. Then there was the letter bomb that blew up in a D.C. post office. Ten people died that day—and they all had families. Do you think that bothered him? The very next day, he sent another bomb, this time to a U.S. senator. If the authorities hadn’t been on alert because of the previous one, even more people would have been killed.”

  Cringing, Lise paled. She knew Russell wasn’t lying to her, but she didn’t want to believe her father was so bad. The man he described was a devil. “You can’t know for sure that my father was responsible for that,” she said desperately. “Anyone could have sent that.”

  “Simon made sure everyone knew he was involved. He taunted SPEAR with information that no one but the maker of the bomb could know. He wanted people to know that he did this. He has no conscience, Lise. You have to believe me. He has connections with terrorists all over the world.”

  He told her things that appalled her, plots and schemes and brutal, fiendish ploys that had wreaked havoc all over the world. And her father had been behind every one of them. He gave her dates and times, not to mention a list of the lives and businesses that Simon had destroyed without remorse.

  Chilled to the bone in spite of the warmth of the night and the blasting heat of the approaching fire, Lise shivered, sickened. She didn’t know this man he called Simon. She only knew Art Meldrum, and while he had always kept her at a distance and treated her with little more than indifference, she’d never thought he was capable of the kind of atrocities Russell described.

  There was, however, no chance that this was all some kind of awful mistake. Russell was too passionate, too outraged. He’d come halfway around the world to capture the man he called Simon, and he wouldn’t have done that unless he was sure he had the right person. And then there was the fire. That spoke for itself.

  No, her father and Simon were one and the same.

  That should have devastated her. But as she listened to the crimes Simon had committed all over the world, she realized that deep down inside, she’d always known her father was capable of just about anything. The coldness he’d always shown her wasn’t due to grief over her mother’s death—that was who he was. Cold, unfeeling, without compassion. If he’d never shown her any emotion, it was because he’d never cared about her.

  And that was all right, she realized. All this time, she’d thought she loved him, but it was difficult to love someone who gave you no emotion in return. What she’d loved was the idea of having a father who was crazy about her. She’d longed for that for years and foolishly thought that one day it was going to magically happen. It hadn’t, and it never would.

  Relieved that he had never loved her and never tried to make her love him, she said huskily, “I believe you. I guess I should thank him for never showing me much attention.”

  “He did you a favor,” Russell replied. “He could have turned you into the same kind of monster he is.”

  Instead, he was going to kill her. So much for small favors.

  “Don’t give up,” he said, reading her mind. “We’re going to make it through this.”

  Lise desperately wanted to believe him, but they were quickly running out of options. “I thought Belinda was going to send some
one to help you. Where are they?”

  “I wish to hell I knew,” he said grimly. “It’s got to be the fire. They can’t find us in all this smoke.”

  So they were on their own, at least for now, and the fire was closing in on them fast. They were almost completely surrounded. Only one spot remained open—a small break in the flames that led back to their pursuers.

  Thunder danced nervously as the hot, billowing smoke reached them, stinging their eyes and lungs. Coughing, nearly blinded by the smoke, she choked. “Now what?”

  In a matter of minutes, the fire would cut off their last exit. If they didn’t take it and face Simon and his posse, they would die.

  Left with no choice, Russell growled, “Let’s go face the music.”

  Chapter 12

  Even if her father didn’t love her, Lise tried to convince herself he wouldn’t blatantly hurt her or Russell in front of a dozen or more men. He might be madder than hell at her for siding with a man he considered an enemy, but he wasn’t stupid. He’d deal with them in a civilized manner.

  Still, tension knotted in her stomach at the very idea of facing him now that she knew who he really was. He was a terrorist, for heaven’s sake! All these years, while she’d been at home, running the station and waiting for him to come back so they could finally establish a father-daughter relationship, he’d been travelling around the world blowing up buildings and killing people. And she’d never known.

  There was, however, no time to dwell on that now. Urging Thunder into a gallop, they headed straight for the last small break in the wall of fire that surrounded them. Smoke and heat slapped them right in the face. Her eyes streaming with tears, Lise didn’t realize until they were racing for the gap that it had already closed up.

  “Oh, God! Oh, God!” she muttered. They needed to stop, but they were going too fast. Horrified, her heart in her throat, she opened her mouth to scream, but it was too late. Behind her, Russell stiffened as Thunder prepared to jump. Before she could do anything but gasp, they were soaring.

  Flames licked at them, hotter than the fires of hell, singeing skin and hair and clothes. Her lungs burning, Lise slammed her eyes shut, sure she was going to die. But then they passed through the smoke, and fresh wind hit them in the face. With a jolt, Thunder landed on the other side of the fire.

  They were safe! It all happened so fast, Lise didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or cry. Tears blinding her, she pulled back on Thunder’s reins and had hardly brought him to a stop when she whirled in the saddle and threw herself into Russell’s arms. “We did it! My God, we did it!”

  “Lise—”

  Laughing, she kissed him fiercely, only to pull back with a grin and exclaim, “I thought we were goners there for a second. Did you feel the heat? It was incredible!”

  “Lise, honey, we’re not out of the woods yet.”

  “What are you talking about? Of course we are! The fire’s behind us—”

  Something in his stiff manner hit her then, and in the glow of the fire, she finally saw the warning in his eyes. Suddenly more afraid than she’d ever been in her life, she glanced around…and froze. Her father’s mounted mercenaries—and her own cowboys—had them surrounded. Nearly a dozen guns were pointed right at the two of them.

  “Put your hands over your head,” her father said coldly, nudging his horse forward. “Now.”

  When he pointed his rifle right at Russell’s head, Lise felt her heart stop dead in her breast. She’d thought she’d grown used to her father’s scars long ago—she’d never known him any other way—but in the glow of the fire, his disfigured face seemed to throb with fury. He looked like a monster, capable of anything. “Dad—”

  “Stay out of this, Lise,” he growled. “This doesn’t concern you. Don’t make me say it again, Trace.”

  Russell wasn’t a fool—he knew better than to argue with a madman with a gun. Without a word, he raised his hands above his head.

  “Smart man.” Simon sneered in approval. “Too bad you weren’t smart enough to mind your own business. Dismount. Slowly!” he snapped when Russell started to slide over Thunder’s hindquarters. “Don’t make any sudden moves. I wouldn’t want to shoot you.”

  That was exactly what he wanted to do, and everyone there knew it. Russell, however, didn’t plan to make it easy for him. If Simon was going to kill him, it would be without provocation. So he did as he was told and carefully dismounted. Raising his hands above his head again as soon as he was on the ground, he turned to face his captor with a mocking grin that was guaranteed to irritate the hell out of him. “That makes two of us, Art. I don’t want you to shoot me, either. So what can I do to change your mind?”

  “Nothing,” he growled. “No one betrays me and lives to tell about it. If I were you, I’d make peace with my maker.” And with no more warning than that, he raised his rifle and took aim.

  “No!”

  Later, Lise never remembered moving, but she jumped from Thunder’s back and stood directly in front of Russell, daring her father to pull the trigger. “You’re not going to do this,” she said furiously, her blue eyes glinting with outrage. “I won’t let you.”

  The rifle pointed steadily at her, Simon didn’t so much as blink in surprise. “Step out of the way, Lise.”

  “No.”

  “He’s not the man you think he is.”

  If she hadn’t been so furious, she would have laughed at that. “And you are? Yeah, right! Tell me another one.”

  For a moment, she thought she saw something flicker in his one good eye, something that might have been regret, but then she realized that was just wishful thanking on her part. His expression never changed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said flatly.

  Hurt, she couldn’t believe his arrogance. He actually thought she was going to meekly accept that? She didn’t think so! “Then maybe I should explain. Does the name Simon mean anything to you?”

  “No. Should it?”

  Staring at him, wondering how she’d ever thought she knew him, let alone loved him, Lise had to admit that he was good. He didn’t flicker so much as an eyelash when she mentioned the name he was known by all over the world. Undaunted, she said, “Then let me tell you a little something about him. He’s a terrorist. According to what I’ve heard, he’s killed and maimed and destroyed the lives of just about everyone he’s touched, and he couldn’t care less. His objective seems to be to bring down a secret organization that combats evil in the world, and he doesn’t care who he has to hurt to accomplish that.”

  Aware that the ranch hands were listening to her every word with avid interest, Simon swore silently and quickly tried to regain the upper hand by playing the aggressor. “So? What does any of this have to do with me?”

  “You’re Simon.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” he retorted icily. “Everyone here knows who I am.”

  “No, they don’t. They only know who you pretend to be when you’re home. And how often is that, Dad? Once a month? Maybe less? I know—you have business that keeps you away. A lot of men have to travel for their work, but they still manage to come home occasionally. You don’t. Why? What are you hiding?”

  “Nothing! Your mother—”

  “Is dead,” she cut in coldly, uncaring if that infuriated him. “Don’t you dare claim that you can’t stand coming here because of your grief. You don’t come home because you’re too busy playing the devil around the world.”

  “This is all nothing but a pack of lies!”

  “No, you’re the lie,” she said. “Everything about you is a lie. You don’t care about the station. And you certainly don’t care about me. You never have. And everybody knows it. Ask them,” she taunted, nodding toward her cowboys. “They’ve got eyes. They all know you’re cold and unfeeling. But then again, I guess you have to be. Anyone that’s soft enough to care about human life wouldn’t be able to throw someone in front of a moving train, would they?”

  Raging on the inside, Simon
told himself he didn’t have to worry. Lise could rant and rave all she wanted to, but she was wasting her breath. He had a respectable name in the outback—he’d gone to considerable expense and effort to make sure of that—and no one was going to believe such wild tales about him. Especially when there was no proof to substantiate them.

  But even as he tried to take comfort from that, he glanced around at the ranch hands, some of whom had been working there since Lise was a baby, and couldn’t miss the sudden suspicion in their eyes. Too late, he realized their allegiance was to Lise. Instead of looking at Trace as if he’d just crawled out from under a rock, he was the one they were glaring at with hostility.

  Suddenly, the numbers had changed, and he didn’t like them. He still had Cookie and the men he’d brought with him in his corner, but that was it. The ranch hands would protect Lise, and Trace, too, for that matter. And that infuriated him. They all worked for him, dammit! He was the one they owed their loyalty to, not Lise and a back-stabbing loser like Steve Trace!

  He was enraged at the idea of being cornered and outnumbered, and he wasn’t a man who put his trust in others when he was in a bind. Taking matters into his own hands, he brought his rifle up with lightning speed and fired—right at Lise.

  It all happened so fast, Lise didn’t even realize he was aiming at her until she felt the bullet slam into her right shoulder like a fireball from hell. Knocked off her feet, she screamed and fell backward, grabbing at her shoulder with fingers that trembled.

  “My God, he shot her. He shot his own daughter!”

  Taking advantage of the surprise he’d created, Simon dug his heels into his mount and sent him racing wildly for the fiery bush. Before anyone could move, he’d disappeared into a huge, billowing cloud of black smoke.

  Outraged, the men of Pear Tree Station snapped up their guns and aimed them at the hired thugs who were about to take off after Simon. “Hold it right there, sleaze-balls,” Tuck growled. “You’re not going anywhere. Nate, take Barney and Frankie with you and see if you can run the bastard down. The rest of us will take care of these dirtbags.”