by Lisa Jackson
Ray’s lips flattened at the insult. “Has he contacted you since you got the last letter?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I thought he would, but I haven’t heard a word. No letters or phone calls…well, except for some hang-ups.”
“That was me.”
“You?” She was sweating now, adrenaline rushing through her system.
“But they started coming before the letter was published…” Her voice faded away, and she wondered how long this man had been watching her, following her. Her skin crawled at the thought of what he might have seen. “You…were watching me?” She thought she might be sick.
“I had to know what was going on.”
So Luke had been right. She’d dismissed his concerns as some kind of overprotective paranoia, but his sense of dread had been justified. “Look, if you want me to help you…” She let her voice drop off. “Is that it? You want me to do something?”
“I want you to level with me. I think you know where Isaac Wells is.”
“I don’t.” She shook her head. “I swear. The only contact I’ve had with him is the one letter.”
“My source said he was returning to town. Was gonna turn himself in, but first he would contact you.”
“Why?”
“Good question. I thought it was so that he could give you some more B.S. and lies that you’d publish in the paper.”
“No,” Katie insisted and heard the familiar sound of a pickup turning in at the drive.
Ray’s nostrils flared, as if he’d encountered a bad smell. “Who’s here?” he demanded.
“I don’t know.”
“Liar.”
“Really. No one knows I’m here.”
Ray’s face clouded. He reached into his pocket, and Katie couldn’t help but back up a step. There was a horrid click, the sound of metal snapping. A switchblade flashed. “Oh, God,” she whispered.
At that moment, the sound of Luke’s boots hit the back porch. She looked through the window and shook her head as she spied his rugged face, twisted with concern. “Katie?” He knocked loudly as Ray stepped away from the door. “You in there?”
“Go away!” she yelled.
“Shh.” Ray reached forward, grabbing her arm, but she resisted, pulling away, kicking at him with her feet, hearing the sound of Luke swearing and banging on the door.
“Let go of me!” She yanked away, but he grabbed her again, forcing her close, the smell of grease from his uniform filling her nostrils. Hard muscles restrained her, and the knife was ever-present in his left hand.
“Katie!” Luke’s voice thundered through the house.
“Who’s that?” Ray snarled.
“A friend.”
“Tell him to get the hell out.”
“Luke, go away!” she cried, as worried for him as she was for herself.
There was a split second of silence.
Crash! Glass splintered and sprayed. A body, huddled against the impact, burst into the room and rolled over the broken glass.
“Damn.” Ray twirled, lifting Katie off her feet as Luke, recovering, found his footing and, all muscles flexed, eyes glimmering with fire, advanced.
“Stop!” Ray commanded.
“Let her go,” Luke ordered through lips that barely moved.
Ray’s grip tightened. Katie could scarcely breathe. “Get out!” he shouted at Luke.
“Are you okay?” Luke’s gaze touched Katie’s for an instant.
“Get out or I’ll cut her,” Ray threatened. The knife was poised high, glinting in the fading sunlight. “I swear it, man.”
“Leave her be.” Luke didn’t move, just crouched, his gaze trained on the knife.
Fear congealed in Katie’s blood. “Let me go,” she demanded. “There’s no reason for this.”
Tense, appearing as if he’d lunge at any second, Luke took a step toward Ray. “Who are you?”
“Stop right there.”
The arm around Katie’s waist jerked hard, and she gasped. Luke froze. Ray pulled her backward, toward the living room, his boots crunching on the bits of glass scattered on the old linoleum.
Katie’s heart thudded wildly. There was nothing she could do. “You—you haven’t been in this kind of trouble before, Ray,” she said.
“Ray?” Luke repeated, his expression wary. “Ray Dean?”
Sweat streamed from Ray’s face.
“Just let her go and we’ll talk this out,” Luke insisted.
“Nothin’ to talk about.”
“Sure, there is. You told me about Isaac Wells,” Katie said. “That you think he’s going to frame you or something. Why don’t you let me write your side of the story?”
She felt him hesitate.
“If you do anything now you’d be thrown back in prison for a long, long time. And Isaac would get away scot-free. Think about your kids,” she said, sensing him listening, hearing his breathing slow a bit. “Laddy and Miles need a dad who isn’t in prison.”
“They’re used to it.” He glanced at Katie. Luke sprang forward. Startled, Ray stumbled a bit. His hold on Katie loosened a little. She threw herself away from him. “Don’t move!” Ray’s knife arced downward. Katie screamed and looked for something—anything—to use as a weapon. Luke caught Ray’s wrist, and the knife trembled as the men struggled.
Grunting, swearing, muscles straining, they wrestled each other to the floor. Glass crunched. Katie ran for the door, her feet slipping on the shards. She threw the bolt, shouldered open the door and, screaming for help, grabbed the only thing she could find—Josh’s old baseball bat that had been left in the corner.
Sirens wailed in the distance, and a truck roared to a stop behind Ray’s van. From the corner of her eye, Katie spied Jarrod bolting out of his pickup. “Get away!” he yelled, running up the steps, two at a time.
But it was already over. Luke, straddling Ray’s chest, had him pinned to the floor.
“Hell, Katie, what were you thinking?” Jarrod demanded as she followed him into the house. Outside, a police cruiser slammed to a stop.
“I thought I was renting my house.”
“What happened here?” a female cop demanded. She and her partner, weapons drawn, ran through the back door. She stopped when she recognized the man sprawled on the floor, pinned by a strong-willed cowboy. “Well, well, well. Ray Dean. Why aren’t I surprised that you’d be in the middle of this?”
“Butt out.”
“Don’t think so.” She motioned for Luke to get up. “We’ll take over from here, but all of you—” her gaze swept the group and brooked no arguments “—will have to come down to the station to give your statements.”
Luke didn’t look at the cops but walked straight to Katie and folded her tightly into his arms. “Thank God you’re okay,” he said, his breath hot as it ruffled her hair. She felt him tremble, heard his heart pounding and wanted to cling to him forever. Tears blocked her throat, and her eyes burned. “I was so worried.” He kissed her crown, and something inside her broke. She let the tears rain from her eyes and drooped against him, all of the fight and fire of her spirit finally collapsing. “Shh. You’re okay. I’m here.” She felt like a fool, an idiot of a woman, but was grateful that he was here, holding her, coming to her damned rescue.
“It’s all a mix-up,” Ray insisted as he climbed to his feet, and the second cop, Officer Barnes, a thin man of thirty or so with an expression of someone who had already seen far too much, yanked Ray’s arms behind his back and snapped handcuffs on his wrists.
“Take it easy! I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Right,” the policewoman mocked. “Not a damned thing.”
“Ray Dean, you have the right to remain silent—” Barnes began reading Ray his rights, but the prisoner would have none of it. He looked at Katie and, beneath the anger in his eyes, was a silent plea. “Look, I messed up.”
“Big-time,” Katie said as Luke’s arms tightened around her.
“Shut up. You have the righ
t to remain silent…” the officer began again.
Ray ignored him. “I want you to write my story. In your paper.”
She hesitated.
“Forget it, Dean,” Jarrod said. “Just get him out of here,” he ordered.
Luke wouldn’t let Katie go.
“You said you’d write it!” Ray argued.
“For God’s sake, man, you had a knife to her throat!” Luke’s face was red, his eyes narrowed in fury.
“I’ll think about it,” Katie said.
Luke tensed.
“Are you nuts?” Jarrod was in her face now, his finger jabbing at her nose. “Do you know what he almost did to you? Katie, use your damned head!”
“This is my life, Jarrod,” she replied.
“And you nearly lost it! Get a clue, would you?”
With a prod from Officer Barnes, Ray was led away, and slowly Luke released Katie. Jarrod, still fuming, kicked at the broken glass and muttered under his breath about women who didn’t have the common sense of fleas.
With Ray in the backseat, the police cruiser pulled away and a few neighbors who had gathered in the yard peeked inside. One, Leona Cartwright, an elderly woman with keen eyes and a hearing aid that helped her miss nothing that was going on in the neighborhood, admitted calling the police when she heard the commotion. “I just thank the Lord that you weren’t hurt,” she said, basking in the bit of glory that came with being the person to inform the authorities. “I just knew something wasn’t right.”
“Thanks.”
“You’ll write about this in the paper, no doubt.”
“No doubt,” Katie confirmed, and Leona, like a preening peacock, beamed, looking from one of her neighbors to the next.
Luke didn’t leave Katie’s side, and by the time the mess was cleaned up, they’d given statements at the police station and had returned home, it was nearly ten o’clock.
Katie, exhausted, was greeted by her entire family. Her father and mother, half brothers and half sisters were all milling and pacing around her kitchen, their faces drawn, lines of worry etching their features. At the sight of her sliding out of the Jeep, the family poured on to the back porch.
“Katie, oh, thank God!” Brynnie, smelling of cigarette smoke and perfume, dashed through the door and down the porch steps to fold her only daughter into her arms. “I was so worried.”
“We all were,” John said as Luke, who had parked behind the Jeep Katie had been driving, walked slowly across the lawn. He hung back, letting the family surround her while Jarrod’s truck screeched to a stop. Rushing over to join the rest of the family, he was still wearing the role of protective older brother.
“I’m okay, Mom,” Katie assured Brynnie.
“Thank God.” Again, Brynnie’s arms tightened around her, then she let them drop. “You’re still my baby, you know.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Lord, what I wouldn’t do for a cigarette.”
“Mom!” The screen door opened and banged shut. Josh flew down the steps to hurtle himself into Katie’s arms.
Her throat was suddenly swollen, at the gesture of her son. She blinked hard and silently thanked God for her boy. “Hi, bud.”
“Are you okay?”
“Fine, fine.” She kissed Josh’s crown, and for once he didn’t seem embarrassed that his mother was displaying her heartfelt affection for him.
“What happened? I thought you were just going to try and rent the house.” His eyes were wide, and now that the worry of her safety was over, he was keyed in on the fact that his mother was some kind of heroine.
“I did. I guess I was duped,” she admitted, ruffling his hair. So much for heroics.
“So the guy was a phony.”
“Big-time.”
John Cawthorne stepped forward. “You’d better come into the house and slow down a mite. You look all done in.”
“I’m fine,” Katie lied.
“Dad’s right.” Bliss, ever the worrier, held the door open. “Maybe you should rest.”
“That’s a good idea.” Jarrod glared at his half sister. “And give up the ridiculous notion that you’re going to interview Ray Dean for your story.”
“Ray Dean? Laddy’s dad? He was the guy?” Josh asked, his eyes round as saucers as his estimation of his mother and her bravery soared into the stratosphere.
“Stay away from the likes of him,” John growled.
Tiffany squeezed her hand. “Oh, Katie. Jarrod and…and John are right. Ray Dean’s a criminal and you’re a mother. You can’t be taking any chances.” For once, Tiffany sided with her estranged father, and Katie saw that this family—ragtag and filled with more than its share of bitter memories, distrust and skeletons tucked away in every available closet—had come together during this crisis. Unintentionally, she’d drawn them to one another.
“Maybe everyone should hear what Katie has to say.” Luke, the outsider, finally put in his two cents’ worth. He was standing beneath a madrona tree, one shoulder propped against the trunk, his hands shoved into the back pockets of his jeans. “Seems to me that it’s her life.”
Jarrod was about to argue. He opened his mouth, snapped it shut and then lifted a hand as if in surrender. “He’s right.”
“Tell us what happened,” Bliss insisted.
“Everything,” Tiffany added. “Come on, I think we can all fit into the parlor.” She held the door open, and John urged everyone inside. There wasn’t enough of Katie’s odds and ends of eclectic furniture to hold everyone, but Stephen and Josh sat on the hearth, Christina was huddled in her mother’s arms, while Bliss and Mason stood at the windows, Brynnie sagged on to the couch, and the rest were scattered throughout the room, either seated in kitchen chairs they’d dragged into the parlor or on the floor.
At John’s insistence Katie took her place in an overstuffed wing chair, and Blue, toenails clicking, entered the room to curl into a ball at her feet. His ears twitched, and his eyes moved from one member of the family to the next while Katie launched into her story. Everyone, even her ever-restless twin brothers, listened raptly. Few questions were asked, and when she described Luke’s dramatic rescue, all eyes turned his way. He stood in the archway between parlor and foyer, his face without much expression. Aloof. And still as sexy as any man she’d ever seen. Her throat caught for a minute as his eyes held hers. In that heartbeat she forgot that he’d betrayed her; remembered only that he’d put his life on the line for her. Before anyone had noticed, she looked away.
“I guess we owe you a debt of gratitude,” John commented, eyeing Luke and sizing him up.
“No trouble.”
“Nonetheless, you should be rewarded—”
“I don’t think so.” Luke’s back stiffened in stubborn pride, and then Katie remembered that he’d probably already been paid for locating Ralph Sorenson’s grandson. Her teeth clamped together; now wasn’t the time to bring that up.
“You saved Katie’s life,” John said adamantly.
“She was doin’ okay before I got there.”
“Like hell she was,” Jarrod retorted, his lips compressed over his teeth, his eyes flashing with frustration at his half sister’s bullheaded streak. “I don’t call it ‘okay’ when you’re locked away with a known criminal who has a weapon at your throat!”
“It wasn’t like that,” Katie protested.
“Damned close.”
There was no arguing with him. She glared at Jarrod for a second, then smiled. After all, he was only angry because he cared. “So what happened on this end?” Katie asked, hoping to defuse some of the tension that lingered in the air.
“After Luke left, Tiffany called me. Explained what was goin’ on,” John clarified.
Tiffany, smoothing Christina’s curls, nodded. “I was worried. Luke had already left, and I just had this feeling that there might be trouble, so I decided your folks should know what was going on.” Her eyes met Katie’s, and a moment of understanding passed between them, a connection only t
rue sisters shared. “So, I phoned the ranch and talked to John.”
Katie couldn’t believe her ears. For Tiffany to have reached out to her estranged father was a major step. Major. Maybe there was hope for this ragtag family yet.
“Since I was there when John got the call,” Jarrod added, “I decided to find out what was going on for myself. Bliss and Mason gathered everyone together here.”
“I talked to the police,” John said. He stood behind the couch where his wife was ensconced and patted her shoulder. Brynnie reached up and grabbed his fingers in hers. “But they’d already been tipped off. Some neighbor, I think.”
“Leona.”
“Helluva way to get us all together,” Nathan joked.
Katie managed a laugh. “I promise I won’t do it again.”
“Good.” Brynnie pushed herself upright. “I don’t think I could live through it again.”
“The next time you meet someone interested in looking at that place, give me a call,” Jarrod said.
“I don’t need—” Katie stopped short. How could she complain about his overbearing, big-brother tactics when he’d risked his life for hers? “Okay, I’ll be more careful and take someone with me.”
“I’m gonna hold you to it,” Jarrod warned, leveling a finger in her direction. But he couldn’t hang on to his glower, and the smile that twitched at the corners of his mouth let her know that all was forgiven.
The conversation grew lighter, and the kids strayed upstairs. Luke, seeing that all was well, tried to leave, but Jarrod stopped him in the foyer near the staircase. “Seems to me you might just be the reason my sister’s alive.”
Luke’s gaze touched Katie, still seated in the chair near the fire. She felt her heartbeat elevate from just that one glance. What was it about him that made her so crazy? It seemed that she was either ready to murder him because he was so bullheaded, or she was melting at his touch, dreaming of making love to him forever. The man was just plain confusing. There were no two ways about it. She climbed out of her chair and went swiftly to the entry hall. A slow smile stretched across Luke’s mouth. “My guess is that your sister here would have done just fine on her own,” he said to Jarrod. Again Luke’s blue eyes found hers. “I just didn’t want to take any chances.”