Trumped Up Charges

by Joanna Wayne

  WHEN A MOTHER’S LOVE MEETS A FATHER’S INSTINCT…

  Ex-marine Adam Dalton once dreamed of a life with Hadley O’Sullivan, but war and a near-fatal injury cost him dearly. Now he returns to Dallas to discover the unthinkable—Hadley is the prime suspect in the disappearance of her twin baby girls…the daughters he never knew he had.

  Beyond Hadley’s terror of having her children kidnapped is the shock of seeing Adam. Yes, she had kept him from his daughters, but now, when he insists they work together as a united front, she knows she is still in love with him. Despite their past, finding their children is their only hope to finally becoming a family—if time doesn’t run out first.

  “Lila and Lacy are your daughters. I conceived before you shipped out.”

  Adam heard the words, but it took all his powers of concentration to make them sink in. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m positive. They couldn’t be anyone else’s. I hadn’t slept with anyone but you for over eighteen months before I conceived. I haven’t been with another man since you.”

  “But the marriage…?”

  “Was a sham.” She made a statement of his question. “It was never consummated.”

  All the months he’d lain in that hospital, agonizing over her making love to another man, all the long nights when he’d survived on bitterness that she could forget him so easily.

  Had she been clinging to the love they’d shared, resenting him, feeling betrayed as he had? But he could have never married someone else.

  “Why didn’t you tell me I was going to be a father? Why didn’t you give me a chance to do right by you?”

  JOANNA WAYNE

  TRUMPED UP

  CHARGES

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Joanna Wayne was born and raised in Shreveport, Louisiana, and received her undergraduate and graduate degrees from LSU Shreveport. She moved to New Orleans in 1984, and it was there that she attended her first writing class and joined her first professional writing organization. Her debut novel, Deep in the Bayou, was published in 1994.

  Now, dozens of published books later, Joanna has made a name for herself as being on the cutting edge of romantic suspense in both series and single-title novels. She has been on the Waldenbooks bestseller list for romance and has won many industry awards. She is also a popular speaker at writing organizations and local community functions and has taught creative writing at the University of New Orleans Metropolitan College.

  Joanna currently resides in a small community forty miles north of Houston, Texas, with her husband. Though she still has many family and emotional ties to Louisiana, she loves living in the Lone Star State. You may write Joanna at P.O. Box 852, Montgomery, Texas 77356.

  Books by Joanna Wayne

  HARLEQUIN INTRIGUE

  1001—24 KARAT AMMUNITION*

  1019—TEXAS GUN SMOKE*

  1041—POINT BLANK PROTECTOR*

  1065—LOADED*

  1096—MIRACLE AT COLTS RUN CROSS*

  1123—COWBOY COMMANDO#

  1152—COWBOY TO THE CORE#

  1167—BRAVO, TANGO, COWBOY#

  1195—COWBOY DELIRIUM

  1228—COWBOY SWAGGER^

  1249—GENUINE COWBOY^

  1264—AK-COWBOY^

  1289—COWBOY FEVER^

  1308—STRANGER, SEDUCER, PROTECTOR

  1325—COWBOY CONSPIRACY^

  1341—SON OF A GUN**

  1361—LIVE AMMO**

  1383—BIG SHOT**

  1426—TRUMPED UP CHARGES***

  *Four Brothers of Colts Run Cross

  #Special Ops Texas

  ^Sons of Troy Ledger

  **Big “D” Dads

  ***Big “D” Dads: The Daltons

  CAST OF CHARACTERS

  Hadley O’Sullivan—When her twin daughters go missing, her secrets might be her worst enemy.

  Adam Dalton—Hadley’s former fiancé, who shows up at her door when her girls go missing.

  Lacy and Lila O’Sullivan—Hadley’s precocious twins.

  RJ Dalton—Adam’s father and the owner of Dry Gulch Ranch.

  Matilda Bastion—Hadley’s mother’s longtime housekeeper.

  Quinton Larson—Matilda’s brother.

  Alana and Sam Bastion—Matilda’s sixteen-year-old daughter and eighteen-year-old son.

  Kala—An accomplice in the kidnapping.

  Janice O’Sullivan—Hadley’s mother.

  Detective Shelton Lane—The head detective on the kidnapping case.

  Fred Casey—Professional hostage negotiator.

  Durk and Meghan Lambert—RJ’s neighbors.

  To my good friends Jean and John, who shared a wonderful week at the beach with my patient husband and me and put up with my preoccupation with writing this book.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Epilogue

  Excerpt

  Prologue

  R. J. Dalton’s days were numbered.

  The prognosis pricked at him like a bull nettle. Nobody like a neurosurgeon to hand it to you straight. Not that he blamed the doc. Can’t make a silk purse of a sow’s belly.

  R.J. eased up on the accelerator of his new Dodge Ram pickup and made the turn onto the familiar back road that led to Dry Gulch Ranch.

  He didn’t have any real gripes. He’d had seventy-eight years on this earth. For the most part, he’d lived them on his terms. He’d never backed down from a fight or walked away from a good time.

  He wasn’t always proud of what he’d done, but he’d never killed a man or got a woman pregnant he hadn’t married—or at least offered to wed. The last wildcat he’d tangled with had told him what he could do with his proposal. Pretty as a new foal, but the woman had been all horns and rattles.

  Not that Kiki or any of his exes would be coming around to plant daises when he was belly-up under a plot of red Texas clay. Nobody even might show up for the funeral ’cept a few of his neighbors. Most of them would be there only to shoot the bull with the other pseudo mourners or to get the inside scoop on how to pick up the Dry Gulch for half its worth.

  A man should have his funeral while he was still alive. That way he’d find out who his friends were. He’d also find out if any of his kids deserved a claim to the ranch that had been in his family for two generations.

  “You should get your affairs in order as soon as possible.”

  That had been the doc’s only solid advice. R.J.’s affairs had never been in order. He had no idea where to start now. He’d already offered to sell his land to the one family he fully trusted not to turn it into yet another golf course community or some noisy, high-traffic amusement park.

  Hugh Lambert’s beautiful widow, Carolina, had refused the offer. Told him he should leave the ranch to his kids. Hell, he didn’t even know his kids and they’d given him no reason to believe they were interested in getting to know him. Probably more his fault than theirs, but it was what it was.

  R.J. nudged his summer Stetson back an inch or two and stared at the passing scenery. Miles of barbed wire. Clusters of pecan trees. Grazing cattle. A tractor in the field, kicking up dust. All of it as familiar as his own face in his shaving mirror, yet somehow it looked different today.

  The heat was the same, though. It ro
se in shimmering waves from the ribbon of asphalt that stretched in front of him. R.J. lowered the window and let his left elbow rest on the hot metal while the steamy Texas humidity slapped him in the face.

  His thoughts slid back to the good old days when he’d been young and full of piss and vinegar. Back when his most pressing worries had centered on coming up with the entry fee for the next rodeo or checking out a firm-breasted buckle bunny.

  If he’d thought about death at all then, he would have figured he’d get shot while slipping an ace from his sleeve or caught bonking another man’s wife.

  He’d never expected it to end with an inoperable tumor growing in his brain. Too bad he couldn’t just saddle his horse now and ride off into the sunset like Randolph Scott used to do in the closing scenes of his movies.

  Most folks around today didn’t even know who Randolph Scott was. Worse, his own flesh and blood didn’t even know who he was. Six kids. None of them would shed a tear when he died.

  Leaving them a ranch and a few million dollars wouldn’t change that—unless...

  An idea popped into his head. It was unconventional. A tad devious. Pulling it off would require a good deal of underhanded scheming.

  He liked it. He liked it a lot.

  Chapter One

  One month later

  Adam Dalton pulled up behind a line of cars, pickup trucks and the Harley that blocked the driveway in front of the rambling ranch house. Judging from the number of vehicles, he’d guess all four of his half brothers and one half sister had also shown up for the reading of the will.

  He’d never met any of his half siblings. The only reason he knew most of them existed was because their names and relationship were all listed in the letter he’d gotten inviting him to the ranch for this dubious occasion.

  The legacy of Reuben Jackson Dalton.

  R.J., the father he hadn’t seen in twenty-seven years. All he knew of his biological father had come from his mother, Jerri, wife number three. If she’d ever said anything good about R.J., Adam didn’t recall it.

  But she must have loved him once—before she’d put him completely out of her life. She’d even lied about his being alive for years—which was strange in its own right, since she was normally a stickler for the truth.

  She’d divorced R.J. when Adam was four years old. He didn’t remember a lot about that, but he did remember crying when they’d driven away from the ranch.

  His mother had married again when Adam was eleven and Doug Abbott had become Adam’s father in every way that mattered until he’d been killed in an early-morning pileup in a dense fog when Adam was eighteen. In his heart and mind, his father had died that day.

  Still, Adam had always wondered about R.J. But from the time he was old enough to remember asking about him, his mother had told him R.J. had died soon after their divorce. He could tell she didn’t like talking about him, so he’d eventually quit bringing up the subject.

  Adam was twenty-one and leaving for his first tour of duty as a U.S. Marine before she admitted that R.J. was alive. Even then it was clear she hoped Adam wouldn’t get in touch with him. She cautioned him that R. J. Dalton was nothing but trouble and had never cared anything about him or anyone else.

  Nonetheless, Adam had thought about visiting R.J. then. He’d even gone so far as to get into his truck and start toward the ranch. He’d changed his mind before he’d reached the turnoff at Oak Grove. If R.J. had wanted him in his life, he’d have come looking for him. Adam would have been easy to find.

  That’s why the letter requesting his presence for the reading of the will had come as such a shock. He hadn’t even heard that R.J. had died.

  Oddly, Adam felt a twinge of loss as he opened the door to his truck and planted his feet on the hard earth. He wasn’t sure if it was for R.J. or just for what might have been had R.J. ever been a real father to him.

  But being overlooked by R.J. was only a precursor to the rejection that had come later. Hadley O’Sullivan had seen to that.

  While he’d been fighting for his life from injuries sustained in an ambush on a craggy mountainside in Afghanistan, she’d found a replacement lover. She’d married him and given birth to twins before Adam was even out of rehab. Apparently Hadley, like R.J., figured Adam was easy to forget.

  All in the past, he reminded himself as he climbed the wide wooden steps to the house. The clamor of voices coming from behind the closed doors promised that this was not a friendly meeting. Dread punched him in the gut. He didn’t need this.

  His phone rang as he turned the doorknob. He checked the caller ID. It was his mother, no doubt wanting to know how the gathering of the clan was going. He ignored the call and turned his phone to vibrate.

  Right now he just wanted to get the will reading over and done with. He’d expected nothing from R.J. while the man was alive. He didn’t expect any more now, so how bad could the meeting be?

  As soon as he took a seat, Attorney Conroe Phipps called the meeting to order and had the siblings introduce themselves. And then the fun started.

  Phipps used his laser to point out each preposterous detail as he went over the requirements to receive a share of R.J.’s estate. The jolts came hard and fast, similar to an emotional earthquake with countless aftershocks.

  Adam scanned the room, briefly studying each of his half siblings. They were clearly as stunned as he was.

  Jade, the only female of the group, was kicking her crossed leg with a ferocity that made him think she was about to propel into orbit. Even Cannon, the rodeo cowboy of the group and the one person Adam thought might have been more receptive to the terms of the will, wore an expression that looked as if he’d been kicked by a bull.

  No one was smiling. Adam himself swallowed a few curses along the way. He figured there would be time to vent his protests and frustrations once the long-winded attorney finished his spiel.

  “To sum it up,” Phipps said as he put down his laser, “in order to collect your share of the estate, you have to not only live on the ranch but take an active role in its operations for one full year.”

  Questions and arguments started flying with everybody talking at once. Phipps’s only response to the chaos was a look of snide satisfaction, as if the uproar was exactly what he’d expected and possibly hoped for.

  “I have a successful career. Do you honestly expect me to give that up to play cowboy?”

  “How can we possibly all live here at once? It’s a big house, but not that big.”

  “How much money are we talking about? Is there any oil involved?”

  “If there’s nothing but the ranch, why can’t we just sell it and split the money? This much land so close to Dallas should be worth a small fortune.”

  “My mother was right. R. J. Dalton was nuts. I say we get our own attorney and prove he was mentally incompetent. There’s no way I’m living out here in the middle of nowhere.”

  That last complaint had come from Jade who had stopped kicking and was now standing with her hands firmly planted on her hips.

  Phipps clapped his hands loudly to get everyone’s attention. “I know you have lots of questions, so I’m going to turn this meeting over to the man whom the money currently belongs to and whose last will and testament seem to be causing you so much distress.”

  He grinned and nodded toward a door that was opening behind him. “Come in, R.J., and meet your loving and appreciative family.”

  Mouths flew open, including Adam’s, as an older, gray-haired man with ruddy, weathered skin and an eagle tattoo on his wrinkled right arm sauntered into the room.

  Apparently R. J. Dalton was still very much alive. If there was any grief in the room after this, Adam figured R.J. would be the one dishing it out.

  * * *

  R.J. TOOK HIS PLACE at the front of the room and eyeballed each of his offspring in turn. He recognized all of them from current pictures he’d had his neighbor and former private investigator Meghan Lambert locate for him.

  A few o
f his adult children showed a slight resemblance to him. Most didn’t. But the most surprising thing was that they’d all shown up today and none had bolted and run yet even though they had no idea how much he was really worth.

  “Guess you’re surprised to see me here,” he said, purposely exaggerating his Texas drawl. “Didn’t see why I should send a corpse in my place and miss all the fun. But don’t worry. According to my friendly neurosurgeon, I’ll be lucky if I see the new year ring in.”

  To his children’s credit, no one cheered at that pronouncement. But that could be because they were still in shock that he wasn’t already dead as they’d been led to believe.

  “I know it’s only eleven in the morning, but this is Texas. There’s beer, coffee and some of the best dad-gum barbecue this side of the Mississippi River in the kitchen.”

  “The kitchen we’re all supposed to share for a year,” someone grumbled.

  “There’s nothing in the will about sharing living quarters. There’s a bunkhouse, a horse barn and a drafty old foreman’s cabin on the property. I have to warn you, though, the cabin’s starting to lean and the bunkhouse needs a new roof.”

  “And I suppose the horse barn is full of dead horses?” Jade quipped.

  “Wrong. I got ten of the best damn thoroughbreds in the county and eight other good riding horses. I’m sure your mothers have told you that I’ve got a head as hard as a frozen wheel hub. That’s all true. However I’m open to questions or just to chat. But I can assure you that the rules aren’t going to change. So basically all you have to do is make up your mind. Do you want to be cut in or cut out?”

  “To start, I think you should at least give us a ballpark figure as to the stakes we’re talking about,” Adam said.

  “I reckon that’s fair. We’re talking about four hundred acres of prime ranchland that includes the house, outbuildings, about two hundred head of cattle and the horses I’ve already mentioned.”

  “What about cash and investments?” one of the guys asked.

  “I’m worth about eight million dollars—give or take a few thousand.”

 
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