by Karen Rose
He grimaced, not sure how he was going to manage doing the chores with a massive hard-on, but he’d figure it out. Wasn’t like he hadn’t done it before. But it had definitely been a while. Kimberly had seen to that. She’d knocked him down and left him numb. Inside and out. Yesterday had been the first time he’d felt truly alive in too long.
Enjoy it while it lasts. His step faltered and he stumbled as he approached the barn. It was going to hurt like hell when Taylor left. Because she would, eventually. She’d go back to the father who’d raised her, to the sisters who still needed her. She was too loyal not to.
Ford could almost hear her logic in his mind and knew which choice she’d make. Frederick Dawson’s wife was dead. His oldest daughter was dead. His middle daughter was a recovering alcoholic and his youngest had special needs and would depend on him every day for the rest of her life. Dawson had given up his career and his friends, moving to the middle of nowhere to keep Taylor safe.
What would the man do if she chose to stay in Baltimore?
Clay, on the other hand, would survive. He’d visit his daughter on birthdays and major holidays. For the rest of the year, he had Stevie and Cordelia. He had his security business and he had a ton of friends.
Ford knew in his roiling gut what her decision would be. He also knew that he was getting far too emotional about a girl he’d just met. They’d have some fun. Maybe a lot of fun.
And then she’ll leave. And I’ll be alone again.
But that’s a month from now. He’d follow his own advice and cross that bridge when he got there. At least he didn’t have to worry about mucking out stalls with an erection anymore, he thought grimly. Just thinking about going back to the numb loneliness of the past year and a half had taken the starch right out of his sails, so to speak.
But, he repeated to himself, that’s a month from now. Pasting a smile on his face, he steeled his spine and opened the barn door. And stopped short when he heard an angry female voice that did not belong to Taylor.
Hurrying inside, Ford blinked at the sight of Dillon and his fiancée, Holly, standing in the aisle between the rows of stalls, blocking Taylor’s path. Holly was doing the talking, arms crossed tightly over her chest, a mutinous expression on her normally smiling face. Dillon stood behind her, looking generally miserable.
And exhausted, Ford noted as he drew closer. Neither Holly nor Dillon looked like they’d slept. Join the club.
‘You used him!’ Holly was saying angrily. Shaking her forefinger, she got up in Taylor’s face, no small feat considering Taylor was nearly six feet tall with her boots on. Holly was only four foot ten, but she made up for it with a powerful personality.
Taylor took a step back, her hands out in a gesture of surrender. ‘I didn’t. I swear it.’
Holly advanced another step, poking that finger of hers into Taylor’s shoulder. ‘Your swears don’t mean anything. You just pretended to like him so that you could get information about Clay.’
Ah. This was about the conversation on which Ford had shamelessly eavesdropped the day before. He approached carefully, having been on the receiving end of Holly’s wrath before. Normally easy-going, she was also fiercely loyal, and nobody messed with the people she loved.
‘What’s going on here, Holls?’ he asked, even though he already knew.
Holly glared at him. ‘None of your business, Ford. Go away.’
‘C’mon, Holly,’ Ford cajoled, but Holly was having none of it.
‘I mean it, Ford,’ she snarled. ‘We don’t need you here. Go the hell away!’
Taylor gave Ford a helpless look before turning her focus to Dillon. ‘I didn’t use you, Dillon. And I didn’t pretend to like you. I do like you,’ she said earnestly. ‘That’s why I trusted you to tell me the truth.’
Dillon shook his head, hurt in his eyes. ‘You came here on a lie. You lied about your name, you lied about who you were. Everything you said was a lie.’
Taylor sighed wearily. ‘No. I didn’t lie. My name really is Taylor Dawson. I really did come from California. I never wanted to hurt you, Dillon, and I’m sorry that I did.’
Dillon’s chin lifted. He had his pride, Ford knew. Dillon had steadfastly refused financial help from Holly’s wealthy family because he wanted to provide for her himself. He’d worked hard, here in the barn and bagging groceries at the local market, saving every penny until he and Holly had a nest egg big enough to get an apartment and a car of their own.
With single-minded determination, Dillon and Holly rejected the notion that having Down syndrome meant that they had to be dependent on their families for the rest of their lives. Ford was damn proud of them. But at this particular moment, Holly’s single-minded determination was leading her down the wrong path.
Holly stepped in front of Dillon, forcing Taylor to look at her. ‘You think that because he has Down syndrome he can’t lie,’ Holly said bitterly. ‘You think he’s a big dumb kid you can trick into telling you everything you want to know.’
Taylor shook her head, panic in the movement. ‘I never thought any of that. Not even once. Dillon, please, hear me out. Please.’ She waited until Dillon moved so that he stood at Holly’s side rather than behind her.
His expression was stony. ‘I can lie. I’m not a little kid. I’m not . . . simple.’
Taylor flinched as if she’d been slapped. ‘I know you’re not! I know you can lie. Everybody can lie, but I didn’t think you had any reason to.’ She dropped her gaze, her shoulders sagging. ‘I’m not the best judge of character, though. My own mother lied to me for my whole life and I never suspected a thing. She told me terrible things about Clay. I believed her because she was my mom and I was a little kid. But I’m not a little kid anymore, either, and I’m really tired of being lied to. I figured if you didn’t know who I was, you’d have no reason to lie.’ She squared her shoulders and met Dillon’s gaze, which had softened considerably. ‘I’m sorry I deceived you. I didn’t mean to hurt you or anyone else. I’m just trying to find my way to the truth.’
Dillon held her eyes for several heartbeats, then gave her a nod and a small smile. ‘Okay.’
Relieved, Taylor’s knees wobbled. Ford put his arm around her waist to help her stay upright, his heart giving a little kick when she leaned into him.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered to him, then cleared her throat. ‘What are you two doing here so early?’
‘Same as you,’ Dillon said with a sideways grin. ‘Shoveling shit. Holly came to keep me company.’ He lifted his brows. ‘And to yell at you.’
Taylor warily met Holly’s eyes. ‘Are we good, Holly?’
Holly’s glare had melted away, leaving her normal smile in its place. ‘Yes.’
Taylor smiled back. ‘Is my invitation to the wedding still good?’
Holly nodded. ‘Of course. Unless you hurt his feelings again, and then I will kick your ass.’
‘And she can kick ass pretty well, actually,’ Dillon added proudly. ‘She takes karate.’
‘From Paige,’ Taylor said.
‘Clay’s other business partner,’ Ford supplied.
Taylor’s smile was rueful. ‘I know. I read about her, too. She’s also married to your mother’s boss, Grayson Smith. I had to make a spreadsheet to keep all Clay’s interconnected friends and their husbands and kids straight in my mind.’ She turned back to Holly and Dillon. ‘I’ll be sure to behave myself in the future. Thank you, Dillon, for telling me about my father. I tried to learn about him before I came, but there wasn’t much online.’
Ford wondered if she’d called Clay her father to keep from angering Holly and Dillon further, or if she’d even realized she’d done so.
Dillon had become serious. ‘I’m glad I could tell you good things. They’re all true.’
‘I know. I could have asked a lot of people about Cla
y when I first got here, but I didn’t know who to trust. I don’t trust many people, but I trusted you. I hope we can still be friends.’
‘Yes,’ he said simply. ‘I’ll take you home now, Holls, then I’ll come back to work.’
Holly grabbed Dillon’s hand and faced Taylor straight on. ‘I don’t understand why your name isn’t Sienna, but I guess I do understand why you lied. You were scared. But please don’t lie anymore. Dillon is a sensitive guy. You really hurt his feelings.’
Dillon rolled his eyes. ‘Holly, be nice. Please.’
‘I won’t kick her ass,’ Holly said. ‘That’s all I’ll promise for now.’ She pointed her finger back at Taylor, her eyes suddenly sober. ‘Don’t hurt Clay’s feelings either. Or . . . you know.’
‘Ass-kicking will happen,’ Taylor said dryly. ‘Got it. Although I suspect you’ll have to get in line behind Stevie and a bunch of other people.’ She sighed. ‘I will do my very best not to hurt him.’
Holly’s chin jutted out stubbornly. ‘That’s not good enough.’
Dillon tugged on his fiancée’s hand. ‘Holly,’ he said quietly. ‘She said she’d do her best. That’s all she can promise. That’s all you can ask.’
Holly looked up at her man, her expression settling to one of love, contentment and a pride so fierce it made Ford’s heart hurt. That’s what I want. Someone to look at me just like that. Like I’m everything they need.
‘You’re right,’ Holly murmured and patted Dillon’s cheek. ‘Take me home now.’
The couple left, hand-in-hand, and the barn was suddenly too quiet, the only sounds those of horses shuffling in their stalls.
‘He’s right, you know,’ Ford said into the quiet. ‘Dillon, I mean. All any one of us can ask is that you do your best. Whatever happens.’
‘I know,’ Taylor whispered. ‘In my head I know. It’s my heart that’s being difficult.’
He lightened his tone. ‘Then let’s get your ass in a saddle so that your head can whip your heart into line.’ He swatted said ass and she blinked up at him, clearly caught off guard.
Then she laughed, making him feel invincible. ‘Okay. Let’s get my ass in a saddle.’
Hunt Valley, Maryland,
Sunday 23 August, 6.35 A.M.
Gage waited for Taylor Dawson to leave the barn, ducking once again when the car with the couple with Down syndrome exited the property. Then he positioned his rifle so that he had the barn door in his sights, aiming for where the black-ponytailed young woman’s chest would be. Once she appeared through the door, he’d have only a few seconds to make the shot before she walked out of his field of vision.
She was still in there, along with the young man who’d entered the barn a few minutes after she had. Gage was pretty sure the man was Ford Elkhart. He’d briefly seen his face as he followed the same path the ponytailed girl had. His research on the therapy program and Daphne Montgomery had yielded lots of photos of her son, who’d been on the receiving end of extensive media coverage after he was kidnapped. It made sense that he would work the farm. Again, Gage had no beef with Ford Elkhart. He just wanted the girl.
But what if the girl wasn’t Taylor Dawson? Yes, she was about the right age, but what if she wasn’t the right girl? Then he’d have to find another way to get to her.
And if Denny and Ma were both wrong and Jazzie didn’t see anything? Even if this young woman is Taylor Dawson, it doesn’t mean she knows anything. Mentally he shoved the doubts away. Taylor Dawson was a potential loose end. Yes, it would be a shame for her to die if she didn’t know anything, but it would be a bigger shame if she did know something and told the cops. And if Jazzie hadn’t said a word yet, she never would if her therapist was dead. Either way, the benefits far outweighed the risks.
And he’d already killed three other people who hadn’t been involved at all. What was one more? Especially one who presented an even greater risk.
I’m going to work for Tavilla. I’d better get used to killing for the sake of expediency.
His arm muscles began to cramp as the minutes ticked by, but he gritted his teeth and maintained his position, resolving to do more upper-body strength training in the future. After about ten minutes, Ford and the ponytailed woman left the barn – but on horseback. Dammit. Her chest was no longer in his sight. It had moved several feet higher.
His arm, stiffened from the cramped muscles, jerked upward to adjust his aim, but by then, the girl and the horse were no longer visible. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Time to pack it in. The sun was fully up now and he was a sitting duck, dressed head-to-toe in black the way he was.
At least he knew that Taylor Dawson had long black hair – if that young woman had been her. Chances were better than decent that she had been, so the trip out here hadn’t been a total waste of time. He jogged back to his car, stowed his rifle and had just pulled away from the shoulder when he saw a truck approaching. He tugged the brim of his cap down, his jaw clenching when he realized that the driver was none other than security man Clay Maynard. Shit. Had he been seen? Damn, damn, damn.
Coming out here was a stupid thing to do. Stupid. Don’t flinch. Don’t cringe. Don’t even notice the other car. Just keep your eyes straight ahead and drive.
Their vehicles passed each other and Gage glanced in his rear-view, relieved when Maynard just kept driving the other way. God. That was close.
Hands shaking, he tightened his grip on the steering wheel and headed back toward his rented room. On the way, he turned onto a side road, pulled a small bag from under the seat, and prepared a nice long line on the piece of mirror he’d carried around for years. And inhaled.
There, he thought with a sigh of relief. Better now. He could think again. And he needed to think. Needed to plan. Needed a way to clean up the mess the kid had made, if she had somehow seen him. Only one solution would truly take care of the problem.
Three can keep a secret if two of them are dead.
The old Ben Franklin quote popped into his mind and he wanted to scream. It hadn’t been three people at first, only two. Just Denny and me. But if Jazzie had seen . . . and if she’d told the therapist . . . he could be up to four. Four people who knew his secret.
You’re talking about killing Jazzie. You know that, right? You’re talking about killing an eleven-year-old girl who used to call you Daddy. Can you actually do that? Can you kill a child?
Could he? He’d never thought he could kill at all. Then he had. But he’d never thought he could kill a child. Never even considered the question.
Maybe he was getting all upset over nothing. Maybe Jazzie hadn’t seen a thing.
But . . . hell. He closed his eyes on a sigh. The not-knowing was making him crazy. In the end, he’d do what he had to do. No more, no less. And he’d know what that was soon enough.
Hunt Valley, Maryland,
Sunday 23 August, 7.45 A.M.
Ford had been right, Taylor thought as they brushed the horses down after their early-morning ride. She’d needed the quiet so that her head could clear. Unfortunately, her head still hadn’t had that talk with her heart, and she lingered longer than she needed to, giving the horse one last stroke down its neck and one last flake of hay.
‘You’re stalling, Taylor,’ Ford said softly, putting his hands on her shoulders and turning her gently towards the open barn door. ‘Clay, Stevie and Cordelia will be arriving any minute and I promised I’d make them breakfast.’
Taylor looked over her shoulder with a wince. ‘Stevie’s coming?’
He nodded. ‘Maggie texted me when we were out riding to give me the heads-up. Stevie and Cordelia will eat breakfast with us, then they’ll go for a ride.’
‘Clay and Stevie made up, then?’
‘It appears so. Why are you stalling, Taylor?’
She closed her eyes and let herself lean ba
ck against him. ‘Because I’m scared.’
He wrapped his arms around her middle and kissed her temple. ‘Of hurting Clay?’
She gave a nervous laugh. ‘Well, Holly did threaten me with an ass-kicking.’
He began swaying side to side, rocking her. ‘What else are you afraid of?’
‘I don’t know,’ she whispered. ‘I had this tidy little life in the middle of nowhere, Ford. My biggest exposure to people was when I finally got to go to college. It was a small school and I lived at home. I didn’t socialize. I didn’t even drive myself back and forth every day.’
‘And you had a bodyguard, you said. One of your father’s ranch hands.’
She huffed an empty chuckle. ‘The son of Dad’s foreman, actually. At least Jacob got a psych degree out of it, since he took the same classes I did. But even with him next to me, I was . . . afraid. I didn’t make eye contact with anyone. The people sitting all around me could just as well have been mannequins.’
‘It was impersonal. No need to form connections. You just existed among them without being part of them.’
‘Exactly,’ she said, relieved that he understood. ‘But now . . .’
‘Now you’ve met your bio-dad and he’s got this huge circle of friends. And they’re going to put you under a microscope.’
‘Like a bug,’ she said glumly. ‘I hope I don’t get squashed like one.’
He chuckled. ‘It won’t be that bad. Holly and Dillon have probably already vouched for you to Joseph’s family. It won’t be long before the grapevine heats up.’ He kissed the side of her neck, sending a shiver down her back. ‘It’s just breakfast. Waffles and bacon.’ He released his hold, then took her hand. ‘Come on. You have a few minutes to wash up before they get here.’
She put one foot in front of the other and focused on his hand holding hers and not the people who’d be waiting for her. ‘Thank you for the ride. I did need it.’