"I'm not."
"Liar." Casey had to swipe at her own eyes. As she did, she glimpsed her watch. Her hour was up and then some. "You okay?"
"Yeah, fine. You're the one I'm worried about."
"I have a Guardian watching over me," Casey said.
"Well, I have a houseful of overprotective cowboys, so I guess we're both safe."
"I'll see you soon, little sister. Real soon. Promise."
"You'd better," Laura said.
Casey whispered goodbye and hung up the phone. Was it enough? Could this be true? Could her little sister possibly be the same Sara that Marcus was still mourning?
She should tell him.
No. She should get proof first.
I kept his picture.
Casey looked toward the ceiling as the realization hit her. The locket. The one Laura had always worn, until the day Casey had asked to see the picture inside. It had vanished after that. But she'd bet money her sister hadn't thrown it away.
She'd just go home, check the locket…
She walked through the front door, turned on the light, saw him and went cold inside. He sat on the sofa, staring straight ahead, his face a granite mask.
Then her gaze moved lower to the file folder open on the coffee table in front of him, the printouts spread around. Copies of news stories—every one she could find mentioning the Guardian. And the others—the ones about the murder of his family, the ones that gave his real name.
"I know what you're thinking, Marcus."
"Do you?"
She nodded. "But you're wrong. I can explain all of this."
He met her eyes, and his gaze was hard as steel. "You're going to say you aren't doing a story on me."
"I'm not. Check my computer files. I'll take you the office myself. There's no story."
He nodded, but she didn't think he believed her. "There is, however, a thorough investigation here."
She moved slowly, her knees wobbling. "Yes. I started trying to find out about you the day I met you." She tossed her purse on a nearby stand, but kept coming forward.
"But not for a story."
"No. Not for a story."
"Then why?"
She shoved the coffee table aside, knelt in front of him and cupped his hands. "You intrigued me. At first, it was my natural curiosity—I've never been able to stand a mystery."
"And what about the cruelty, Casey?"
She blinked in shock as he pulled his hands from beneath hers.
"You knew my last name. Knew it was Brand, and yet you took me out to that damned ranch anyway, just to gauge my reaction. Didn't you?"
She lowered her head. "I thought it was just a coincidence at first. But … but it made me wonder. You told me you were missing a lot of your childhood memories. I thought if you saw the ranch, and if there was a connection, seeing the place might stimulate something."
"So it was for me. You subjected me to that for my sake."
She swallowed hard.
"And what about last night?"
She was confused. "We made love. And it was wonderful, Marcus, and—"
He turned his head sharply away from her. "Not that. Before, when you let me relive that—that nightmare. And all the time you already knew…"
"No. No, Marcus, I didn't know. I'd seen the newspaper account, yes, but I wasn't sure it was your family. And all of that is beside the point, anyway. Marcus, you needed to talk about it. You needed to…"
"No, I didn't." He still didn't look at her. Refused to face her.
Still kneeling, she cupped his face in her hands and turned him to her. "You're upset with me, aren't you?"
"You're damned right I am. And don't try to fix everything with those big innocent, eyes, Casey, because I see right through them."
"I'm glad. Because I see through yours, too. None of this would bother you so much if you didn't care about me just a little."
"Is this what happens when someone cares for you? You sneak around behind their back, pry into their private lives?"
"Search their houses while they go to the office?"
He snapped his eyes shut as if she'd struck him.
"I want to know everything there is to know about you, Marcus. I want to heal those wounds you keep working open. I want to give your past, your memories, back to you. I want to know you like no one else does." She threaded her fingers into his hair, stroking softly. "Can I help it if the only way I know how to deal with that sort of thing is by snooping? How can you hate me for it, Marcus, when you know it's because I've fallen in love with you?"
His eyes popped open, and he looked stricken.
"You do know that, don't you?"
Searching her face, he looked at her as if she were speaking a foreign language.
"If you'd just let yourself, I think you could love me, too."
"No. That's not going to happen. You can't just erase the past with a few words, Casey. That's not the way it works."
"Maybe not. But it doesn't change the way I feel. And don't be so sure I can't change the past. I'm pretty talented, you know."
He frowned, looking bewildered, under attack and shell-shocked. She leaned forward and brushed his lips with hers. "If you want to, you can burn this stuff," she said, waving a hand at the folder. "It was never meant for anyone's eyes but mine, and I've seen it already."
He stared at her as if dumbfounded.
"Meanwhile, let me just go upstairs for a minute. I might have a Christmas present for you."
He tilted his head. She kissed him again, then got to her feet and walked away.
She could have been angry at him, probably would have been if she hadn't known so well what he was doing. Putting up barriers, looking for reasons not to love her. He was sinking fast and grasping at straws. And so wounded, in so much pain and incredibly afraid of being hurt even more.
She was going to make him so happy. She could hardly wait to see his face when she told him.
She didn't go to her own room but to her sister's. The jewelry box sat on the dresser. The answer was inside, probably had been all along.
She reached for the lid, opened it and dug through the contents in search of the locket. Her hands were trembling as she pried the tiny heart open to reveal the photograph inside. She sat down on the edge of the bed and stared at the photo, eyes watering.
There was a little boy and a little girl. The girl was unmistakably Laura, the boy a little older. He had dark hair and solemn dark brown eyes. His arm was around the little girl, and he looked like a younger version of Marcus.
Or was that wishful thinking?
Only one way to find out. Take it downstairs and show him.
She got to her feet. The lights went out.
Damn her.
He couldn't even stay angry at her. Oh, sure, he could brood and bluster fine, right up until the second when she looked into his eyes or touched her lips to his. Explaining all his doubts away and making him want nothing more than to fall into her arms.
God, was she some kind of sorceress?
Or was she just so insightful that she saw things he didn't? She said he was wrong, that he could fall in love if he'd let himself. And damned if it didn't seem to Marcus as if that was exactly what was happening to him.
My God, could it be?
She loved him. He could hear her saying it again, so simply, so matter-of-factly, as if it were as natural as her smile or the sparkle in her eyes. Three simple words that had somehow plunged him into this ridiculous state of confusion and bewilderment.
Something had happened when she'd said those words to him. His heart had leaped in response. He was still afraid to love her. Still certain that self-preservation dictated he resist the temptation to love her. But he was beginning to wonder if that kind of thing was within his control. Maybe loving her wasn't a choice. Maybe he just … just did.
Imagine that.
The lights died, plunging him into familiar darkness. And he knew Mancini was near. His senses pricked to full
alert, and he jumped to his feet. "Casey!"
And then Casey screamed, and his heart replayed the final scream of his mother. For just an instant, he was shut in the darkness of that basement, feet frozen to the floor, listening to the scream of a woman he loved. A woman who was the center of his universe.
But only for an instant.
"No," he whispered. "Not this time." And the next thing he knew, he was racing up the stairs, kicking in the bedroom door and standing there, breathless. In the moonlight streaming through the open bedroom window, he saw a brute of a man holding Casey from behind, a gun pressed to her temple.
"Let her go, Mancini."
The man's head came up fast. "How the hell do you know my name?"
"I heard my mother scream it just before you shot her dead, you son of a—"
"Your mother?"
"You took away everything I loved." He locked gazes with Casey. "But you won't do it again. Let her go, Mancini. If you hurt her, I'll make you wish to God you'd never been born."
"Sorry. She's a witness. But don't worry, you'll be joining her soon enough." He thumbed back the hammer.
"You've got the wrong woman, mister," Casey said, her voice strained. "My sister is far away from here, safe. Killing me isn't going to do you one bit of good."
"Wha—" He jerked Casey around quickly, searching her face in the moonlight.
She didn't waste a second. She brought her knee up hard and fast, right into his groin, and the second his grip on her eased, she dived to the right. Marcus launched himself forward. Mancini's finger clenched the trigger just as Marcus kicked the gun out of his hand. The gun went off, and he felt the breeze of the bullet blazing by his head. "Thank you, Caine. You were right all along," Marcus muttered.
Mancini reached for him, only to receive several rapid-fire blows to the face. The man's head snapped back, and he staggered backward.
Marcus saw what was about to happen, and in spite of himself, he reached for Mancini, but it was too late.
The man's bulk pulled him backward, and flailing his arms, Mancini smashed through the window. His wail filled the night, but only briefly. When his body thudded to the ground below, he went silent. Marcus stared at the motionless figure, his heart beating hard. He told himself it was over now, that he could let go of the past once and for all—and then he wondered why it didn't feel over at all.
Marcus turned, gripped Casey, pulled her gently into his arms. "Did he hurt you?"
"I'm okay … I'm okay now, Marcus. Just hold me."
He did, closing his arms more tightly around her, wishing he could hold her this way forever. "I was wrong before," he whispered, pushing back her hair and bending to kiss her forehead. "So wrong. I said I couldn't love you, but I do, dammit. You didn't give me any choice. I … I just couldn't see it until he had that gun to your head. God, when I thought of losing you…"
"Marcus." She stepped back, searching his face. "Do you mean it?"
He nodded, close to tears. It was as if he were alive again. "More than I can even believe."
"Thank God you told me now. If you'd waited, I'd have always wondered if it was real or … or just gratitude. And Laura…"
"Laura?"
She nodded hard, looking around the room and finally spotting something on the floor. She bent to pick it up, took his hand in hers and gently lowered the thing into his palm. A necklace, with a long silvery chain.
"You'll understand, I think. Once you see this."
He stared down at it, confused. "We have to call the police—an ambulance—"
"I'll do that. You get the lights back on and then take a look at the locket. Okay?"
He closed his hand around it. "I don't want to leave you alone for a minute." He took her hand in his free one and drew her downstairs. Pausing at the phone, he dialed in utter darkness, gave the address, told the 911 operator he needed police and an ambulance, then put the phone down before she could ask him to stay on the line.
He took Casey with him to the fuse box in the basement, where he tripped the breaker, and the lights came back on.
"Ready?" she asked him, reaching up to snap on the basement light.
"Sure." He wasn't sure what was in the locket. He didn't even care. He loved her, and he felt as if he were finally glimpsing a light at the end of his long, dark tunnel.
He lifted the locket, pried open the heart and then frowned down at a photo of himself and his sister, arm in arm. The pain flared anew, and he closed his eyes. Tears dampened his lashes anyway. "God… Oh God, Sara…" His lips thinning in undisguised agony, he let the tears spill over and reached up to stroke Casey's hair. "I don't know where you ever got this, but—"
"It's Laura's."
He tore his gaze from his sister's likeness and stared, puzzled, at Casey.
"Laura witnessed a murder when she was little. The police never let on that she hadn't been killed with the rest of her family. Instead they put her in the witness protection program, and she became my little sister. But before that … before all that, Marcus … her name was Sara."
His brows arched upward. "Sara?" It came out a croak.
She nodded. "Sara Brand. Somehow related to the Texas Brands, I think. And I think maybe they knew, and were instrumental in getting her placed with their old friends, the Joneses, who were close enough by so they could keep tabs on her."
"My Sara?"
"She was wearing this when she arrived, Marcus. And I know that's her in the photo. I remember the way she looked—just like this, only sad, lost and so alone."
He stared down at the photo and saw for the first time the woman in that little girl's face. Laura. His Sara. Then he searched Casey's eyes again. "You don't have any idea what this means…"
"I figure after twenty-two years without a Christmas, you deserve a hell of a present this year. Besides, it's the least I can do for the man I love. Merry Christmas, Marcus."
He pulled her into his arms and kissed her long and deep. He loved her. He did. And nothing would ever change it. God, what she'd given him. He could hold her, kiss her like this forever.
But she pulled away. "Don't you think we'd better tell Laura—I mean, Sara—about this?"
He frowned. "She doesn't know?"
"Not yet." She lowered her gaze.
"Hey." Marcus lifted her chin. "You okay?"
"You love me. How can I not be okay?"
But he saw a slight shadow in her eyes beneath the joy and the love shining on him. And he thought maybe he knew what it was. He'd fix it, though. He'd fix everything for her from now on.
* * *
Epilogue
« ^
For the second time in a week, Marcus drove underneath the arches of the Texas Brand. Members of the family—his cousins—came streaming out onto the front porch. The place had Christmas lights glowing all over it, red and green, all of them turned on now that it was dark outside. A big old pine tree growing out front had been decked out and twinkled merrily. And for the first time in a long time, the Yuletide spirit touched him, tweaked his heart, made him smile.
He stopped the car and got out, Casey at his side, holding his hand, searching his face.
Laura ran forward into Casey's arms. "Thank God it's over," she whispered. "And you're okay."
"I wouldn't have been … if not for Marcus."
Laura smiled, turning toward Marcus, taking one of his hands. Hers felt warm. His mind flashed back … their hands, entwined. His skinny, hers still plump with baby fat.
"Thank you," she said.
"You'll have to tell us all about it … Marcus. Funny, you remind me a lot of a Marcus I used to know."
Marcus met Garrett Brand's eyes. "The one you taught to ride?"
Garrett's jaw dropped. He blinked. Casey took Garrett's arm and led him and the others aside, leaving Marcus alone, for the moment, with Laura. She was staring up at him, a puzzled frown across her brow.
He took the locket and placed it in her hands. "When your family was murdered, yo
u were playing hide-and-seek. Your mother was looking for you, but I guess she didn't find you. I've been thinking on this, and I'll bet you crawled into the cupboard underneath the kitchen sink. She never could find you when you hid there."
Her eyes got a little wider. "H-how…?"
"Your brother was in the basement, so they didn't get him, either. But all this time, he thought you were dead. And you must have thought the same about him."
"M-my brother?" She looked stunned. "Marcus…"
"That's right."
"Marcus?" She searched his face and suddenly burst into tears and flung herself into his arms. Marcus held her close, rocking her, kissing her hair, so dark, just like his.
"It's okay, Sara. We're together now, and we'll never be apart again, I swear it."
She just kept saying his name, over and over again. And he held her until her tears subsided. It took a long time. Her sobs left her weak, and red-eyed, but smiling all over.
"You okay?" he asked when she finally settled down a bit.
She stared at him. "For the first time in a long time, I think I am."
"I know the feeling." Then, his arm around her, he turned and led her back to where the others stood staring m wonder. He guessed Casey had explained it all to them.
Garrett slapped his hat against his thigh. "Hot damn, Marcus, welcome back. Welcome home, cousin!"
Wes was slapping his shoulder next, and then Ben and Adam and Elliot, and even Jessi, though she had to be too young to remember him much.
He felt as if he really had come home, even though the Texas Brand had only been a place to visit as a child. He supposed it had always felt more like home than his parents' house in Silver City.
He stepped away, leaving them to fuss over his sister while he turned toward Casey.
She stood a little to the side, slightly away from the rest. He went to her, clasped her shoulders, searched her face.
"What is it, angel?"
She lowered her eyes. "I … don't belong here. I should go. This is a … a family thing."
"You are family."
"No—"
"Yes. You're my family, Casey. You just inherited a pile of long-lost cousins, is all."
THAT MYSTERIOUS TEXAS BRAND MAN Page 17