Suspicions (The Battling McGuire Boys Book 3)

by Cynthia Eden

  “You...need me.” And Ty kept laughing.

  Davis advanced from the darkness. His steps were slow, cautious. Davis wasn’t the cautious type. She reached out to him.

  “Ava...” He pulled her away from Mark and into his arms. He whispered a confession in her ear. “You scared me.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. She could hear Brodie talking to someone—he was barking orders and demanding the cops rush over, so she figured he had to be on his phone. Mark was close, right at her back. And Davis was holding her so tightly that she could barely pull in a breath.

  Davis and Mark had been afraid they’d lose her. She’d been afraid they’d be hurt. But they’d all made it out of that mess alive.

  Mark loves me. He’d said she mattered more than anything to him. There was too much fear still swirling in her heart for his words to sink in, but they would—she knew they would. Then she’d be happy. This nightmare would finally be over.

  “Sully?” She had to force out his name. For some reason, it was getting harder to talk.

  “On the way to the hospital,” Davis quickly told her. “He’s alive, Ava. And he’s a fighter. All the McGuires are. You know that.”

  Yes, they were fighters.

  Davis let her go, and Ava started to fall. She just didn’t have the strength to stand any longer. She expected to hit the ground and she couldn’t even brace for the impact, but Mark caught her. His arms wrapped around her as he cradled her so carefully. As if she were precious to him.

  I love him. Probably more than he’d ever realize. Enough to trade her life for his without any hesitation.

  “Baby?” His hold tightened on her. “Ava? Ava, what’s wrong?”

  She heard Ty’s laughter again. Wild. Cruel.

  “You won’t have...her!” Ty promised. “She’s gone...you lost her...you lost!”

  Mark’s hand pressed over her wound. Ava’s breath hissed out, and he looked down at her side.

  “No,” he said, voice gone hoarse with horror. “Ava, no!”

  She licked her lips. They were so dry. And the pain had come back.

  Mark was on his feet and running with her cradled in his arms. “I’ll get the EMTs! You’ll be fine, you’ll be—”

  “I love you,” she told him, needing to say those words once again. Her eyelids were sagging closed. “And...don’t worry...”

  “Ava!”

  “You heard...Davis... McGuires are...fighters...” She would fight for him—for their chance at a life together—with every bit of strength she had.

  He loved her. She loved him. And Ty didn’t get to win.

  * * *

  AVA DIDN’T OPEN her eyes. Not yet. She knew she was in a hospital. She remembered the frantic ambulance ride there. The way Mark had clung so tightly to her hand. The way he’d said—

  I love you.

  Over and over again.

  The bullet had been taken out. She’d been stitched up. Things were really foggy after that point.

  She expected pain. But...there wasn’t any. Just a heavy lethargy that seemed to weigh down her body.

  “Mark.” She whispered his name because he was the first person she thought about. The one she needed most.

  Warm fingers curled around her hand. “I’m right here.”

  She opened her eyes. He was beside her. Stubble lined his jaw, and dark shadows swept under his eyes.

  “Right here,” he said, “with you. The one place I always want to be.”

  Happiness spread within her. They’d made it. They’d— “Sully?”

  “Right here, sis,” said a low voice. She turned her head to the left. There was another bed in that hospital room. Sully was there, looking tired but still managing to smile. “You know I’m hard to kill.”

  Her breath heaved out in a sound that was a cross between a sob and a laugh. Yes, he was hard to kill. He was a fighter.

  A McGuire.

  And they’d won.

  Mark’s fingers swept back her hair. His touch seemed to sink right through her. “I want to date you, Ava.”

  His words—after everything that had occurred—had her shaking her head. “What?”

  “I want to date you, properly. The flowers and the dinners and anything and everything you want.” He swallowed, cleared his throat. “And when you’re ready, I want to marry you. If you’ll have me.”

  If?

  “Because I do love you, and I’d like to spend the rest of my life making you happy.”

  Her lips parted.

  “Aw, man, Ava, I should’ve gotten my own room!” Sully groaned.

  She ignored him and focused on Mark. “You don’t need to date me.”

  Worry flashed in his eyes.

  “But you do need to marry me.” They’d been through hell together, and they’d come out stronger for it. “Because I don’t want to spend any more days or nights without you.”

  A wide smile spread across his face.

  “Definitely my own room,” Sully muttered.

  Mark leaned forward. “I love you.”

  And Ava knew that the nightmare was over. Finally, everything was going to be all right.

  Epilogue

  Mark walked into the small interrogation room at the Austin Police Department. Davis was right at his heels. He didn’t know what kind of strings Davis had pulled in order to get this little one-on-one chat, but Mark figured he’d owe his brother-in-law-to-be for this one.

  Ty glared at him. His ex-foreman and friend was handcuffed to the little table. He wore a garish orange prison uniform, and hate burned in his eyes.

  Mark stared at him a moment as the past swam in front of him. Those brown eyes...filled with burning hate...he’d seen them before.

  Eyes in another man’s face. The same hate reflected in a gaze just as dark.

  “You’re his son,” Mark said. Because he’d put all the puzzle pieces together after he talked with Ava and Davis. “Gregory Montgomery’s son.”

  “His real son!” Ty shouted. He tried to surge forward, but the handcuffs yanked him right back down. “You were nothing to the old man, but he still left you everything! He gave you everything!”

  And he had. Gregory Montgomery’s will had stipulated that all of his holdings were to pass directly to Mark. There’d even been some legal mumbo jumbo about no additional heirs—even biological offspring— ever being able to claim his assets. At the time, Mark hadn’t paid any attention to that clause, but now...it makes sense. “He knew about you.”

  “He never thought I was good enough!” That hate just burned hotter in his stare. “Never thought my mom was good enough. But I showed him!”

  Davis propped his shoulders against the wall on the right. “Just so you know,” Davis murmured, “you’re being watched and recorded.”

  Ty’s gaze slanted toward the one-way mirror. “You think I care?”

  He should. He was about to talk away any chance he had at ever seeing the outside of a prison.

  “I’ve been robbed my whole life, and I’m glad to tell the world now.” His chin jutted up. “That old bastard? The one you let punch you around? I’m the one who was strong enough to stand up to him. I killed him.”

  Mark had already suspected as much.

  “Then I found out about that bull he’d put in his will. He’d told me—weeks before!—that I was gonna get what I had coming to me. He lied!”

  “No.” Mark shook his head. “He gave you exactly what he wanted you to have.”

  Nothing.

  Gregory had always been a twisted bastard.

  Davis pushed away from the wall and headed toward the table.

  “I was gonna show him,” Ty said, his words coming out so fast and hard. “I was gonna take Ava...he co
uldn’t get her mother, but I would get her. Ava was even prettier. She was perfect. She was—”

  Davis slammed his hands down on the table in front of Ty. Ty flinched.

  “If you say that my sister was going to be yours,” Davis told him, “then I will slam my fist into your face and break your nose again.”

  Because Ava had broken his nose the night of the fire, and Mark’s bullets had kept the man in the hospital for over a week.

  “Do you think I had it easy?” Mark asked him, curious now. “You know what he did to me.”

  Ty’s lips twisted. “I guess you’ve never seen my back. He did the same thing to me.

  “You won’t let me go to prison.” Ty leaned forward. He seemed cocky now. So confident. “You’ll make a deal for me.” He inclined his head toward Davis. “Because if you do, then I’ll tell you what I saw that night. I’ll tell you who killed your parents.”

  Silence.

  Then...

  “You attacked my sister,” Davis said. His voice was low and cutting. “I don’t care what you know. You’re going to rot in jail.” He looked back at Mark. “I think we’ve got everything we need. The cops heard him confess to killing Gregory. They already had him dead to rights on the other attacks. He’s done.”

  Then he turned his back and walked away.

  “No,” Ty whispered. “No!” He tried to shoot to his feet, but once more, the handcuffs just pulled him back.

  Mark stared at him. He wanted to hurt the man. To destroy him the same way Ty had tried to destroy everything Mark held dear, but...

  Ava was waiting for him. Life was waiting.

  “Goodbye, Ty.” They’d gotten the confession that the cops needed.

  Ty was screaming when they left him.

  * * *

  THE RANCH HOUSE had been saved. Mark figured that was pretty much a miracle. His men and the firefighters had been able to contain the blaze. The den, Davis’s bedroom and the hallway were charred, but the structure of the place was fairly intact. The home could be repaired. Rebuilt.

  “How much pain,” Davis asked quietly as he gazed at the house, “do you think one place can stand? How much...before you just have to walk away?”

  Mark put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Ava is here.”

  Davis’s head whipped toward him.

  “She’s on the bluff.”

  Davis shook his head. “Ava...doesn’t like this place.”

  Mark just stood quietly with his friend.

  A few moments later, Ava joined them. Davis stared at her as if she were a ghost.

  “I have some ideas,” Ava said as she cocked her head and studied the house. “About how we can repair this place.”

  “You...you want to rebuild?” Davis’s voice was strangled.

  Ava nodded. Her left hand reached for Mark’s. Their fingers threaded together. “Yes. After all...it’s home.”

  Davis was still as stone.

  Ava’s right hand reached out to him. Her fingers threaded with his, too. “Home is important,” she told Davis. “So is family.”

  “Nothing’s more important than family,” Davis agreed, his words a rough rasp.

  Ava smiled at him, she winked at Mark and then she looked at the house once more. “I have some ideas...” she said again.

  A few minutes later, Ava climbed into the car. They were about to head back to Mark’s ranch, and he couldn’t wait to get her back there and into his bed. But first...

  Mark looked over at Davis. “You know you aren’t going to let things end this way.”

  Davis was staring at the house. “Ava wants to rebuild.” He sounded dazed.

  Mark shook his head. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

  Davis turned to face him.

  “If Ty knows who killed your parents, we have to make him talk.”

  Davis smiled then, and the sight was chilling. “Oh, don’t worry, he’ll talk.” His eyes glinted. “I’ve already put plans in motion.”

  A cold chill slid up Mark’s spine.

  “I will find out who killed my parents. Before I’m done, Ty Watts will be begging to tell me everything he knows.”

  Staring into Davis’s cold gaze, Mark believed him. But then, he knew just how deadly Davis McGuire truly was. “If you need me,” Mark told him, “you know where I’ll be.”

  Davis nodded. “With my sister...protecting her with your life.”

  “Always,” Mark promised him. Then he turned and headed toward the car—and Ava.

  * * *

  DAVIS WATCHED AVA and Mark pull away. Mark loved Ava. Of that, Davis had no doubt. Ava was happy, safe.

  And now—now he could focus on the past once again. Every day he felt as if he learned a new piece of the puzzle that was his parents’ murder. Every day he got closer to the truth.

  Yes, Ty would talk...sooner or later.

  The guilty would be found. Davis wasn’t going to rest until he gave his parents the justice they deserved.

  McGuires were fighters, and he still had plenty of fight left within him.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from McCULLEN’S SECRET SON by Rita Herron.

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  McCullen’s Secret Son

  by Rita Herron

  Chapter One

  The last place Brett McCullen wanted to be was back in Pistol Whip, especially on the McCullen ranch.

  He pulled down the long drive to his family’s ranch, Horseshoe Creek, his leg throbbing from his most recent fall. Damn, he loved rodeo and riding.

  But maybe at thirty, he was getting too old to bust his butt on the circuit. And last week when he’d woken up in bed with one of the groupies, some hot, busty blonde named Brandy or Fifi—hell, after a while, they all sounded and looked the same—he’d realized that not a soul in the damn world really cared about him.

  Or knew the Brett underneath.

  Maybe because he was good at the show. Play the part of the bad boy. The fearless rider. The charmer who smiled at the camera and got laid every night.

  Easier than getting real and chancing getting hurt.

  He cut the lights and stared at the farmhouse for a minute, memories suffusing him. He could see him and his brothers, playing horseshoes, practicing roping on the fence posts, riding horses in the pasture, tagging along with their daddy on a cattle drive.

  His oldest brother, Maddox, was always the responsible one—and his father’s favorite. Ray, two years younger than Brett, was the hellion, the one who landed in trouble, the one who butted heads with their father.

  Brett could never live up to his old man’s expectations, so he figured why try? Life should be fun. Women, horseback riding, rodeos—it was the stuff dreams were made of.

  So he’d left home ten years ago to pursue those dreams and hadn’t questioned his decision since.

  But Maddox’s phone call had thrown him for a loop. How could he deny his father’s last request?

  Hell, it wasn’t like he hadn’t loved his old man. He was probably more like him
than Maddox or Ray. He’d always thought his father had a wild streak in him, that maybe he’d regretted settling down.

  Brett hadn’t wanted to make the same mistake.

  He walked up the porch steps and reached for the doorknob, then stepped inside, back into a well of family memories that reminded him of all the holidays he’d missed.

  Last year, he’d seen daddies shopping with their kids for Christmas trees, and mothers and kids at the park, and couples strolling in the moonlight, and he’d felt alone.

  Mama Mary, his dad’s housekeeper and cook and the woman who’d taken care of him and his brothers after their mother passed, waddled in and wrapped him into a hug.

  “You’re a sight for sore eyes,” Mama Mary said with a hearty laugh.

  Brett buried his head in her big arms, emotions churning through him. He’d forgotten how much he loved Mama Mary, how she could make anything feel all right with a hug and her homemade cooking.

  She leaned back to examine him, and patted his flat belly.

  “Boy, you’ve gotten skinny. My biscuits and gravy will fix that.”

  He laughed. Mama Mary thought she could fix any problem with a big meal. “I’ve missed you,” he said, his voice gruff.

  She blinked away tears and ushered him into the kitchen. The room hadn’t changed at all—still the checkered curtains and pine table, the plate of sausage and bacon left from breakfast. And as far back as he could remember, she’d always had a cake or pie waiting.

  “Sit down now and eat. Then you can see your daddy.” She waved him to a chair, and he sank into it. Dread over the upcoming reunion with his father tightened his stomach. Grateful to have a few minutes before he had to confront him, he accepted the peach cobbler and coffee with a smile.

  Without warning, the back door opened and his little brother, Ray, stood in the threshold of the door. Ray, with that sullen scowl and cutting eyes. Ray, who always seemed to be mad about something.