He rose, took her hand, nodded deeply. "Ms. Jones."
"Call her Casey," Laura instructed. "Where is that waiter? I'm starving."
"You're always starving," Casey told her. She nodded at her sister's dripping hair. "What's this, a Christmas swim?"
"Bah!"
"Humbug," Marcus said at the same moment.
Casey's frown puzzled him. He thought the simultaneous grinching was rather funny himself. She looked … odd. Deep in thought. But in a second she gave her head a shake and snapped herself out of whatever had come over her.
Then the waiter finally arrived. Laura had preordered for everyone, protesting only mildly when Marcus told her to get whatever she wanted on him. He suspected she'd secretly relished the opportunity.
The choices told him he'd suspected right. Stuffed crab, glazed asparagus, Cornish game hens and assorted vegetables, accompanied by a bottle of imported wine and an entire cheesecake.
"My God, who ordered this mess? It's only lunch!" Casey said, wide-eyed.
Everyone looked at Laura. She only shrugged and dug in.
Casey shook her head. "It isn't fair. If I ate like that, I'd weigh a ton."
"Oh yeah, try to sound jealous, sis. When you're the one dating the super—" She stopped herself, bit her lip. "Supernice guy," she finished, but it was a lame attempt.
Marcus leaned back in the chair, having lost his appetite. "So you know."
Laura tried to look innocent with those huge black eyes, but it didn't fool him.
"Admit it, Laura. That's the second time you've referred to me as some kind of superhero, and while it's far from accurate, I can only imagine one way you might have got that idea into your head."
"The way you flipped that Neanderthal last night?" she asked, blinking like a doe in headlights.
He shook his head.
"I told her," Casey said.
"She did not! I guessed. She let something slip about you not liking the press, Marcus, and I just figured it out all by myself."
"Did you, now?"
Laura nodded. Casey looked as if she were losing her appetite.
"That the way it happened, Casey?"
"If I tell you it was, are you going to believe me?"
He narrowed his eyes on her. What kind of game was this?
"Never mind. I guess I have my answer." She swallowed hard and shoved her plate away.
"I don't have mine," he said.
"You do so, Marcus," Laura said, raising her voice now. "Hey, I'm talking to you!" She poked him in the shoulder, but he kept his eyes focused on Casey.
Casey stared right back. "I'm not going to do this. You either trust me, or you don't. And it's pretty obvious, Marcus, that you don't."
He said nothing.
"You're blowing it, Marc," Laura said.
"Big-time," Graham added.
But Marcus's focus was broken so suddenly he nearly felt it snap, and he turned to Laura. "What did you call me?"
She frowned, seeming to recall her words. Then she closed her eyes. "Sorry. It slipped out. It's a habit I have, shortening names. Drives some people nuts."
Graham cleared his throat. "Perhaps we ought to be working on a safe haven for the ladies. I've checked with the hotel, but they're completely booked."
"I don't want them in town, at any rate, Graham. It wouldn't take much work for this fellow to track them down, particularly if he's a professional—and I believe he is. Besides which, if this is going to work, I'll need to be out at the house, waiting for him to return. I can't be here watching the women."
"I think I have that particular problem solved," Casey said.
Everyone looked up expectantly, including Laura, who was still chewing.
"We have some old family friends in a nearby town. Very rural," Casey said. "Very safe."
"How can you be sure?" Marcus asked her.
"Still don't trust me, do you? Even on this? You think I'd stash my sister somewhere that wasn't safe?"
He sighed, lowered his head. "The head of the household is the town sheriff. That good enough for you?" Licking his lips, he faced her once more. Gazes clashed, jet and brown, across the table. "I never said I didn't trust you."
"You didn't have to." But her tone was softer, her eyes a bit less hostile. "But I … think I understand."
He didn't like that. Not a bit. "Don't try to analyze me, Casey."
"Scares you, does it?"
He heard Graham try to suppress a chuckle and fail. "Where is this place?" he asked.
"I'll give you directions on the way," she told him. "You ready?"
"I doubt it."
"So do I."
Her eyes hid a thousand secrets, and every sentence she uttered could have as many meanings. She was maddening. "Your things are upstairs," he said finally.
"Gee, talk about tension!" Laura's sarcasm was evident.
"One could scarcely cut it with a chain saw," Graham commented.
"Well, I'll get our stuff," Laura said. "I need to change anyway."
"Not alone, you won't." Casey got up, and together the women left.
"Neither of them should probably go about unaccompanied, Marcus," Graham said.
Marcus sighed. "I know. I'm right behind them, but I needed a minute. I want you to search their house while I'm gone."
Graham's scowl was clearly disapproving. "But … but why—whatever for?"
"Because I'm half-convinced Casey is gathering information on me for a story. She could destroy everything I've worked for—everything Caine worked for, and the Guardian before him."
"I seriously doubt—"
"I doubt it, too. Because I want to doubt it. But I can't take the risk, Graham. So search the place. Don't take anything. Just tell me what you find. Okay?"
Graham tapped his folded napkin against the table's edge. "I find it very distasteful, sir, but yes. I'll do as you ask."
"So it's 'sir' now?"
"Will there be anything else?"
Graham had turned to ice. Marcus could feel the chill from here. "No, Graham. Nothing else. I shouldn't be more than a few hours."
"Very well, sir," Graham said. "Have a pleasant trip." Marcus turned to leave, but before he'd gone ten steps, he could have sworn his old companion muttered something else. One more word. It sounded a lot like "fool."
Casey sat in the front seat, when she could just as easily have climbed into the back with her sister. She knew it was because she wanted to be close to him. It irritated her that he didn't trust her, but she told herself it would be tough for a man who'd seen the things he'd seen to trust anyone.
Although she sensed that wasn't the problem. He seemed to trust Graham. He could trust her, too, if he wanted to. No, the major wall standing between him and her was that he didn't want to. He didn't want to get close, didn't want to feel a thing for her, refused to let himself. Because he was scared. Scared half out of his mind, and he probably didn't even realize it.
She was curious about his connection—or lack thereof—to the Brands of Texas. It seemed like an odd coincidence that they shared a name, and that he'd mentioned visiting Texas in his childhood. But it might not be. It might be more than that. She supposed it was a pretty underhanded trick she was pulling here, bringing him to the Texas Brand to see his reaction to the place. But it truly was the only safe place she could think of to leave Laura.
Still, she could have warned him. She'd deliberately not mentioned the name. She wanted to see for herself how he responded to the place, the family. It would give her another clue about him, his past, his life, who he was inside.
And those were things she was longing to know for reasons she didn't even understand. Her curiosity—hell, she was used to that. But this was different. Not at all the same, not even originating from the same place in her body. The snoop in her came from some spot in her brain. But this—this came from somewhere deeper. Her gut. Her soul.
Her heart?
She swallowed hard and admitted to herself that it
was entirely possible.
"Anything wrong, Casey?"
With the two-hour drive barely half over, she'd been thinking too much. Silence filled the car like an electrical charge—one that might spark and set them all alight if anyone spoke. Her relief when Marcus finally broke it made her sigh out loud.
"I really didn't mean to tell Laura about you," she said, conceding that maybe he did need to hear it from her.
"I know that."
She swung her head around, facing him, feeling her heart give a little flutter at the way the sun streamed through the windshield and made his dark hair gleam. His eyes, hidden behind sunglasses, gave him a mysterious air. Another disguise. And maybe he felt freer when he was protected by one, be it his fedora and trench coat, his secret identity or his shades.
"I shouldn't have been so rough on you over it. Laura's … pretty perceptive."
"Why, thank you," came a voice from the back seat.
Casey shot her a look, and Laura pouted. "You want I should ride in the trunk so you two can be alone? Gosh, sis, the man is driving."
Casey lowered her head in exasperation while Marcus tried not to chuckle, failed and wound up laughing out loud.
"About time somebody around here lightened up," Laura muttered. "So, where are we going?"
Casey stiffened. "I, uh, want to surprise you."
Shrugging, Laura sharpened her gaze and stared out the window just as they passed a sign that said Quinn, forty miles. She settled back into her seat with a contented sigh. "Not much of a surprise, sis. We're going to the Brand ranch, aren't we?"
Marcus spun around so fast his arms moved with his head and the car careened into the other lane. "What did you say?"
"Marcus! The car!" Casey jerked the wheel toward her, and Marcus faced front, steered onto the shoulder and braked to a dusty stop.
"Sheesh," Laura said as she straightened in her seat. "What did I say?"
"Marcus, what just happened here?"
He closed his eyes, and his hands, where he gripped the wheel, were white.
Laura reached up from the back seat to clasp his shoulder. "It's no big deal, Marcus. We're going out to a ranch called the Texas Brand, out near Quinn. The Brands are … well, they're old friends."
"How old?" Marcus asked, still gripping the wheel. He opened his eyes but didn't look at either of them. His gaze was fixed on some invisible point straight ahead.
"My parents were friends of the Brands ever since I can remember, Marcus. I trust them. And I know Laura will be safe there." Casey spoke very slowly. She wondered if his reaction was due to the Brands having the same last name as him, or if it was something more. She touched his hand on the wheel, tight, hard, even cool. "Marcus, what's wrong?"
He searched her face then, reaching deep, and she knew he was trying to figure out whether she knew his name was Brand. Whether she'd set him up somehow or whether this truly was all just a coincidence. She could feel him searching her, and not finding any answers, and growing frustrated. And she felt as guilty as a thief for putting him through this.
But what if they were family? What if they really were? Everyone needed family. Especially at this time of the year.
He stared at her a long time and finally shook his head in defeat and turned away. Pulling the car back onto the road, he headed toward the Texas Brand.
It was coincidence, Marcus told himself. His memory, still so hazy, nonetheless tried to surface every once in a while. He'd prefer it didn't. His name, his true name, was Marcus Brand, not Marcus Caine. And he knew he'd come to a ranch in Texas, usually at Christmastime, to visit a large family. Vague impressions, out of order and unclear. Sometimes a face. Sometimes a voice. Horses. He remembered horses. And a porch swing Sara would never get out of.
But this couldn't be the same place, and these Brands who were old friends of the Joneses couldn't possibly be the same people. Because if they were, it couldn't be coincidence—and yet Casey had no way of knowing.
They rode in silence, Casey finally showing her frustration with every look, every sigh. She gave up and turned on the radio, tuning in to a rock station—not an easy find in rural West Texas. But she found one, blasting a popular song.
The frustration left her face. Marcus saw it, because he couldn't keep from looking at her every few seconds, no matter how strongly he suspected her of treachery. She was beautiful. Soft.
So he saw her brows go up. Saw her glance over the seat at her sister and wiggle them. Followed her gaze back there to see her sister wink and nod.
A second later, Casey and Laura were singing along to the radio. Full volume. Laughing out loud when they got the words wrong. Making up ludicrous lyrics to take the place of the real ones on occasion.
He couldn't think about Casey's hidden agenda or ulterior motives. Couldn't tune the girls out. Couldn't keep from looking at them, and his lips twitched and tugged into a reluctant grin. "You're both nuts."
He switched the radio off.
Casey and Laura kept singing anyway, finishing the song in spite of his wet-blanket routine.
They both seemed more relaxed when the final note, slightly off-key, died away and they leaned back against their seats, smiling. "You have to admit, it makes the ride go faster," Laura said.
"I think I could argue that point."
"Well, it's no fun if you don't sing along, silly. We do it all the time, don't we, Case?"
"All the time."
"Even with the windows down?" Marcus asked.
"Even at red lights with the windows down," Laura told him. "Remember, Casey, when the cop in the next lane started singing along?"
"I remember. I thought he was going to ticket us for noise pollution, and all of a sudden, he bursts into song. And he was bad."
"Worse than us," Laura said, nodding.
"He must have been pretty bad," Marcus said. Casey punched his shoulder lightly.
"Keep it up and we'll make you join the Jones family singers."
"We're almost there," Laura said, pointing. "Turn off here, Marcus. Gosh, I can't wait to see them. It's been so long." She leaned forward, her chin over the back of the seat between Marcus and Casey. "Do they know we're coming?"
"I spoke with Garrett this morning. He said the whole family would be there to greet us."
"He wasn't lying. Look!"
Marcus glanced in the direction Laura pointed. Beyond the towering wooden arch with Texas Brand carved into it, the driveway was filled with cars and pick-up trucks, the rolling green lawn crowded with people. And it was familiar. That arch. Then he looked further, toward the house, and his heart stopped beating for just a second.
He stopped the car. Laura sprang from the back seat and Casey from the front, but while Laura ran off into the welcoming arms of a dozen or more people, Casey didn't. She came around to his side of the car, opened the door and gently tugged him out. He didn't argue. He was still staring, standing now beside the car and staring.
That big front porch extended the width of the house, white, with broad steps. The whole thing was lined with silver and gold garland and strings of unlit lights. And there was a porch swing there. Old, but well kept. His throat went tight, and his eyes misted over. In the distorted view now, he could see little Sara, swinging endlessly on the porch swing.
The pain gripped him in iron fists, and he had to tip his head backward in order to breathe, his throat was so tight. He closed his eyes.
"I want to thank you, friend, for lookin' after the Jones girls."
Marcus brought his head down, looked at a man with a star pinned to his shirt. A man with familiar eyes.
"Garrett Brand," he said, thrusting out a hand.
"Good to meet you." Marcus shook but never gave his name. He saw the way Garrett's eyes narrowed on him, searching his face, almost as if he felt the sense of déjà vu, as well, and was trying to identify its cause.
"These little ladies are kinda special to us."
"To me, too," he blurted, then wondered why he'
d said it when he was trying so hard not to let them be. "Did Casey explain the situation?"
"Told me about half what I'd have liked her to, but all she could, she said. Stubborn one, that Casey Jones."
"Is she?" Marcus glanced past the big guy, didn't see Casey in the throng of people but noticed instead the horses grazing nearby. Ghosts from the past haunted him again, damn them. For an instant he saw Sara, dark curls bouncing wildly as she sat atop a gentle mare and one of their cousins led her around. He could even hear the faint echo of her sweet laughter. "God, she loved it here," he muttered.
"What's that?"
"Nothing," Marcus said. "I have to go."
He turned to get back into the car, but the memories were still coming. He remembered the oldest of his cousins tugging him away from where he was watching his little sister take her first horseback ride. Saying she'd be fine with the others, that the two of them should go practice bull roping while there was still time.
And that boy—he'd been really big for his age, but gentle. Kind. And his name … it was…
Marcus turned and looked back at Garrett, blinking in shock. My God, it was true.
"I get the oddest feeling we've met before," Garrett said, looking just as puzzled as Marcus knew he himself must.
"I'm not from around here," he said. Then he got into the car, closed the door, started the engine, tried not to hyperventilate.
He managed to keep the car on the road until he was out of sight of the ranch. Then he pulled over, squeezed his head between his hands and bent over the wheel. "How can it be? How the hell can it be?"
"How can what be?"
He went rigid. Sat up fast and straight and glanced up to the rearview mirror, only to meet a pair of sad brown eyes, glittering like jewels from behind damp lashes.
Then she moved, and her hands came to his shoulders, massaging with firm, delicious pressure. "Relax, Marcus. Let go of all this tension. Come on, lean back. That's better."
She forced a sigh from him, made him do as she said with her hypnotic voice and soothing touch.
"What are you doing here, Casey?" he asked her. "You were supposed to stay at the ranch."
"I never said I would, did I?"
No, he realized slowly. She hadn't.
THAT MYSTERIOUS TEXAS BRAND MAN Page 13