by Linda Style
The sheriff brushed a hand across his smooth chin, his gaze assessing both of them. “With bad results, I see.”
“I was protecting myself,” Julianna countered. “Well, I thought I was anyway.”
“What the hell is going on here?” Abe’s gravelly voice resounded.
Julianna turned. “Abe, what are you doing up?”
Luke gave her a pointed stare, a slow smile tipping his mouth at the corners. “Question with a question,” he said under his breath.
She stifled a laugh. He knew exactly how to get to her. Make her laugh and she’d forget everything. But not anymore.
Ignoring his tease, she glanced at Abe. Though Luke loved his father, there’d always been tension between them and, in five years of marriage to Luke, she’d never figured out why. Luke had always passed it off as his father being too hard on him when he was a kid, making him feel he couldn’t do anything right. She’d always believed there was more to it.
When Abe saw Luke, he looked surprised, but within seconds, his mouth turned down, his expression dour. He acknowledged the sheriff and then turned back to Julianna. “I’m up because someone’s making so damned much racket it’s impossible to sleep. And that’s saying a lot since I can’t hear worth spit.”
Julianna crossed to Abe and placed a hand on his arm. “There’s nothing to worry about. I thought there was a burglar and called the sheriff. But it was only Luke, so everything’s okay and you can go back to bed. We’ll talk in the morning.”
“We will not.” Abe made his way to the couch and eased onto the sagging cushion. “Sheriff, you want to arrest someone?”
“Someone?” The sheriff glanced at the only other people in the room. Luke and Julianna.
“I invited one person to stay here. The other is a stranger to me. And apparently he broke into my house.”
~~~
LUKE’S NERVES BUNCHED. Okay, that was his dad’s way of getting back at him for staying away so long. He had to admit it had been awhile, so he probably deserved whatever lambasting he got. Still…his dad could’ve waited until they were alone to eviscerate him. He gritted his teeth. “Fine. I’ll leave right now.”
For a fraction of a second, Luke thought his father’s expression cooled and he seemed maybe even a little crestfallen. But the reaction, whatever it was, quickly passed.
If that’s what you want, then go,” Abe growled.
What Luke wanted was a soft bed. After driving six hours from L.A. to Phoenix and another six to Santa Fe, he was dog-tired. But his old man wouldn’t be satisfied until he had what he wanted. Abe wanted Luke to grovel and apologize for being a bad son and for whatever other grievances he believed Luke responsible for.
“I came to see you, why would I want to go? Why don’t we let the sheriff get on with his business and we can talk about everything in the morning.”
The sheriff shifted his feet, crossed his arms and eyed Luke’s old man. “You got a problem with that, Abe?”
“I got a big problem standing right in front of me.”
The sheriff frowned. “So do you want me to arrest him?”
Luke groaned. Another nutcase. “For what reason?” he asked, looking from one to the other and back again. Unfrickingbelievable.
“Whatever reason I want.” The sheriff shrugged and smiled, his teeth bright white against bronzed skin. “We do things differently out here than you do in your big city.”
Great, just what he needed. His father’s wrath and a rogue sheriff who didn’t give a rat’s ass about procedure. And then there was Julianna. Dear Jules. He cleared his throat. “Fine. Arrest me if you want. Otherwise, I’m outta here.” He took a step to leave.
“Suit yourself,” Abe spat out. “Never could stick anything out.”
Luke glared at his old man, primed for a comeback, but then, for the first time since his father entered the room, Luke noticed how frail he seemed. He’d lost weight, and his face looked gray and haggard, the lines deeper, more like canyons instead of crevices. “Okay then,” Luke said, “if it’s up to me, I need a good night’s sleep. I’ll leave in the morning.”
Abe scoffed and grabbed the armrest on the couch and pulled himself to stand, but he lost his grip, wobbled and fell backward. Luke started to reach out to help at the same time Julianna hurried over. Abe waved them off, then took hold of the armrest again and laboriously lifted himself to his feet. “Do what you want. I’m going to bed.”
The sheriff tipped his hat. “Seems everything’s okay here, so I’ll be on my way, too.”
Leaving Luke alone with Julianna. The woman he’d once thought was the center of his universe. The woman whose very presence pounded in another sharp reminder that he’d lost everything that had made life worth living. A reminder that he’d failed in their marriage.
Failed her. And their son.
“I’m turning in, too,” Julianna said, her voice oddly quiet. “I’m in the back bedroom, so you’ll have to take the smaller one.”
“Fine with me.” Except there wasn’t a chance in hell he’d get any sleep with Jules in the next room.
CHAPTER TWO
THOUGHTS OF JULIANNA had kept him awake for a while, but it was the nightmares about the kidnapping that woke him a mere three hours after he’d gone to bed.
He rolled onto his back, his skin slick with sweat, sheets drenched.
Julianna’s face loomed large in his mind. Muscles cramped in his chest. Tears formed in his eyes. The death of their son had created a chasm between them. Destroyed their marriage.
He scrubbed his hands over his face. He’d thought he’d made progress, but seeing Julianna…
Dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit. He curled his hands into fists, the urge to punch something overwhelming.
Instead he raised an arm to his forehead and let out a long breath. He had to leave. No matter how much he wanted to mend the rift with his father, staying in the same house with Julianna could spell disaster. It had taken him too damned long to get back on track. He couldn’t jeopardize everything he’d accomplished.
For nearly four years, he’d gone through the motions of living. He went to his job, he went home and went to sleep, but not before consuming copious amounts of alcohol to speed up the sleep process. He’d alienated his father, put his friends at a distance and had been within a hair’s breadth of losing his job.
Life might not be everything he wanted, but at least he was among the living. His job and his friends were all he had. If he screwed up again, it was all over.
The sharp ring of his cell phone made him jump. He was used to calls at any hour when he was in L.A., but he hadn’t expected to get them here. “Coltrane.”
“I need some information,” Captain Jeff Carlyle’s sandblasted voice blared. The captain had seen him through some tough times. Luke owed him.
“Sure. What’s up?” Luke had been working on two high-profile cases before he left L.A. The missing congressional aide, Michelle Renfield, who they suspected was dead, and the latest Studio Killer case, a serial murderer who specialized in killing porno flick stars near the location where their latest movie had been shot.
“It’s Thorpe.”
“Figures.” Congressman Thorpe was the prime suspect in his aide’s disappearance three years ago. Thorpe was suspected of having an affair with her and though they’d found no conclusive evidence of his involvement in her disappearance, Luke was sure enough about what they did have, he couldn’t let up on his investigation. But Thorpe didn’t like anyone messing with his life and he’d let Luke know it. “What’s his problem now?”
“His attorney’s threatening a lawsuit. Says you have a vendetta, that you’ve prejudiced the public with your investigation and that it’s detrimental to his upcoming election.”
“I thought my taking a vacation was supposed to help, get me out of sight for a while. Besides, Thorpe should’ve thought about that when he forgot he had a wife and seduced a seventeen-year-old.”
“She was twenty.”
“She wasn’t when he met her. He’s a predator.” Luke’s grip on the phone tightened.
“Okay, I know how you feel about it. But the reason I called is to make sure there’s no question on procedure if Thorpe’s attorney goes ahead with the suit.”
“None whatsoever.” He might be aggressive in his investigations and quick to jump on things, but he was damned thorough.
“I also wanted to tell you I’m putting St. James and Santini on the case.”
Luke shifted, biting back words he knew he’d regret. He’d worked his guts out on this case and now because some politician threatened to sue, he had to give it up?
“It’s not permanent,” Carlyle said. “And they’ve both got full loads right now.”
That meant the assignment was only for looks. No one was really going to work on it. “I’m on it again when I get back, right?”
After a long pause the captain said, “Sure.” Then he asked, “How’s your father?”
“He looks terrible.”
“Well, you’ve got two weeks, or longer if you need it. I just wanted you to know.” Carlyle clicked off.
Yeah. He just wanted him to know. What the captain knew was that Luke would be pissed if he came back and found the Renfield case had been pulled out from under him. It didn’t matter if Jordan and Rico actually worked the case or not.
That Thorpe’s attorney had the fucking balls to file a lawsuit burned Luke’s ass. Thorpe had the kind of connections that might help him if he was ever arrested and brought to trial—only the congressman wasn’t about to let it go that far. He wanted to be vindicated now and a lawsuit would probably guarantee it if no other evidence turned up. People would view him as the victim and be more willing to vote for him.
Yeah, well, he didn’t give a damn about anyone’s connections. With every fiber of his being he believed Thorpe was responsible for the disappearance of the young aide. If the evidence showed he was right, the congressman, whether he was reelected or not, was going to jail for a very long time.
As for Luke having a vendetta—if seeking justice for murder victims was a vendetta, then yeah, he did have one. And the sooner he got back to L.A., the better.
Only in this case, justice would have to wait. He had to first assess his father’s health and see what he could do to help him while he was here. Maybe find him a hired hand—someone who could stay at the ranch. And when his father discovered that plan, all hell would break loose.
~~~
“GOOD MORNING,” Julianna said as Luke came in from outside. “Out doing chores?” She took the coffee pot to the sink and filled it, focused on the project at hand. Not on him.
“Funny,” he said, and let the kitchen door slap shut with a bang.
“Well, you know there’s plenty of work to do around here. Too much for your father.” She scooped some coffee into the basket.
“I noticed. Everything seems to have fallen apart since I was here last.”
“He could use some help.”
“He could easily afford to hire someone.”
“You mean if he wasn’t so stubborn and didn’t think he could do everything himself.”
He paused for a moment, as if considering what she’d said. “Yeah. While I’m here, I’m going to see what we can do about getting him some help.”
“Good idea.” But not if he intended to stick around for a while to do it. She pushed the button on the pot and turned, her backside against the edge of the butcher-block counter.
Luke sat at the weathered oak table, wearing only a white T-shirt and faded jeans, his sandy sun-bleached hair still wet from the shower. He smelled of fresh soap and shampoo, and just looking at him made her breath hitch. Still. After all these years.
“Weren’t you cold out there without a jacket?”
“I’m tough.” He smiled, raised a brow. “You know that.”
Her breath caught as she turned and retrieved a pan from the maple cabinet next to the stove that had one harvest-gold door half hanging from its hinges. Even with her back to Luke, she felt the heat of his gaze.
“You never did answer me last night,” he said. “What brings you here?”
Crossing her arms, she leaned against the counter, again. “I answered you. I said I was invited and I came.”
Even though she knew he knew there was another reason, his smug know-it-all attitude made her want to smack him. “I don’t need a reason to visit someone I care about.”
Luke had been gone so much of the time they were married, she doubted he had any idea she’d developed such a close relationship with his father … or that they’d become even closer after the divorce. Abe had been there for her when no one else had. When Luke hadn’t been.
“I could ask you the same thing. What’s the real reason you’re here?”
He shrugged. “I don’t need a reason to see my father.”
“And when did that become important?” The second the words left her mouth Julianna wanted to pull them back. Abe didn’t get along well with people in general. He didn’t even get along with his son, and the distance in their relationship had hurt Luke a lot—but just like his father, Luke had been too stubborn to admit it.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” She turned away. “But…can you at least tell me how long you’re staying?”
He shrugged. “It depends.”
God, he was so hard to talk to sometimes. She heaved a sigh. Just being in the same room with Luke made her heart ache. Made her remember…too much. Her only defense seemed to be anger. Not something to be proud of, but there it was. And if he wasn’t going to leave, then she would have to. “Well, don’t let my presence be a factor in your decision. I’ll be leaving soon.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” Abe’s gravelly voice boomed as he came in and joined them in the kitchen. “What kind of nonsense is that?” He sniffed the air.
The scent of hazelnut coffee wafted through the room and she noticed the pot had stopped burbling. She reached for the mismatched and chipped mugs, brought three of them to the table and poured them each a cup. “I’ve been thinking it might be…easier if I go. Besides, I have more investigative work to do on the next series and—”
“Well, you just stop that kind of thinking, young lady.”
Julianna had to smile. She didn’t want to hurt Abe’s feelings, but if Luke stayed, she had no choice.
Luke leaned back in his chair, raised his arms and clasped his fingers behind his head. “You can both stop worrying. I’ve got to get back to L.A. Something has come up.”
She raised her chin. Of course. The job. The job that was more important than just about anything. But she’d swallow her tongue before she’d say it. If it meant he’d leave, she was grateful.
Abe coughed. “I’m going to work on the fence out on the line.”
“What’s wrong with the fence?” Luke asked.
Julianna glanced at Abe.
“Someone keeps tearing it down.”
“Really. Why would anyone do that?”
“Duke Hancock wanted that piece of land for years, but I told him I wasn’t going to sell. Now they want it again.”
“Duke died twenty years ago, Dad. And who are they?”
Ignoring Luke’s question, Abe went on. “The fence is destroyed. The cattle can run right through.”
“You haven’t had more than a few head of cattle for years, and that’s not even where they pasture.” Luke shook his head, his exasperated expression saying there was enough work to be done without creating more.
Abe scoffed. “It needs to be fixed.”
“Okay. I’ll go out with you to help on the fence,” Luke said, then caught Julianna’s gaze.
For a moment, she couldn’t look away. His eyes were still bluer than Chris Pine’s. Intense. Sexy.
“Okay with you, Jules?” He smiled.
A wide white smile. Her heart stalled…in the same way it had when she’d first met him at that environmental rally
where they’d been on opposite sides.
And apparently her recent lack of male companionship was making her hormones shift into overdrive. “I’m scrambling eggs. Anyone else want some?”
Luke’s eyes widened. “You learned how to cook?”
“Funny.” She didn’t even try to keep the sarcasm from her voice. His joking, teasing, was just one more way he got to her. He knew it and she knew it.
“No one needs to wait on me,” Abe sputtered. “I can make my own breakfast. Been doin’ it for years.”
“I know you can, Abe. But since I’m making eggs for myself, it’s no big deal to toss in a couple extra. I’d appreciate it though if I could have the kitchen to myself for about fifteen minutes.”
Both men rose. Abe went down the hall toward the bathroom and Luke headed for the living room.
As she watched Luke walk away, an unexpected sadness washed over her. She swallowed back a sudden lump in her throat. After getting the eggs from the fridge, she slumped against the door, head back. Dammit. What was the matter with her?
Was it being together again with Luke and Abe, like the old days? Was it remembering the love she and Luke once shared? The love. The heartache. The loss. She closed her eyes.
After three years of grief therapy and finally learning to live in the present, she’d thought she could handle just about anything. But now it was as if she’d tumbled backward in time. All the memories, all the emotions she’d tried so hard to forget, roared to life once again. God. She’d resolved all that, hadn’t she? Or had she only been fooling herself?
Maybe. She drew a deep breath. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that there’s no way she was going to slide back into the abyss that had been her life. She’d worked too hard to make herself into a whole person again—even though a piece of her would never mend.
She straightened, pushed off the door and went to the stove.
Seeing Luke again had thrown her off balance. That’s all. She’d get over it. She’d carved out a comfortable niche for herself at the magazine. She had a great loft condo in the heart of San Francisco. Her life was good. She grabbed and egg and cracked it into the bowl so hard it splattered yolky goop all over the counter. Her life was good, dammit.