A Rancher's Dangerous Affair

by Jennifer Morey

  Chapter 17

  After Brandon had seen the news, he’d raced into town. Eliza wasn’t at her brother’s house, so he called Zimmerman, who confirmed she’d been there, and proceeded to reveal what he’d learned from Gabe Dawson.

  Brandon should never have let Eliza go. He’d told himself that she’d be safe with Ryker, but all the while another kind of terrible feeling denied that as the whole truth. If Eliza wasn’t the woman for him, what woman would be? He could tell himself he needed a meek and mild woman, but none of them had ever worked for him. Was that his phobia of ending up like his father at work?

  His phone rang.

  “Where are you?”

  It was Zimmerman again.

  “At Ryker’s house. Eliza isn’t here.”

  “She’s near there. We just got a 911 call.”

  Apprehension geared up his pulse. No. Eliza. Something had happened to her. His father had gotten to her.

  “Where?”

  “Must be right up the road. Help should be arriving any second.”

  He shaded his eyes. There was nothing on the two-lane county road that bobbed up and down over the hilly landscape, wide-open spaces and no houses.

  Hearing sirens, he ended the call and ran to his truck. A police car passed, then another. Brandon followed. Over the first hill, Ryker’s Charger was parked, and Ryker lay outside the open driver’s door.

  A policeman exited his cruiser, armed. He aimed into the cab and then knelt by Ryker.

  Brandon reached them.

  “Stay back,” the second officer said.

  “I know him. It’s Ryker Harvey.” Brandon went to Ryker, who struggled to breathe and pressed his hand to a bullet wound on the right side of his chest.

  “Brandon,” he managed to say. “Eliza...” He coughed.

  Fear as he’d never experienced before cauterized him and made it difficult to remain calm. “Where is she?”

  “Jillian...and J-Jack...”

  “Jack Reed?” the officer kneeling beside him queried.

  “Jack and Jillian are together?” Brandon asked, his mind reeling. He tried to ignore the comedy of their names.

  He should have guessed something wasn’t right when Jillian drove the tan car to the empty car sales building.

  “Yurt...” Ryker barely got out.

  Yurt. His yurt? His dad would try to take Eliza there. To kill her. He’d kill her right under everyone’s noses.

  Cursing, Brandon looked down at the officer. “How did you know to come here?”

  “Got a call. Eliza called for help just before she lost her phone.”

  “Phone’s here.” The second officer approached, holding a cell phone.

  Brandon snatched it from him and ran to his truck, calling over his shoulder, “Get him to a hospital. Now!” As if they didn’t already know what to do. Urgency ruled him.

  He drove onto the field along the road. He knew this land better than anyone. He’d get to that yurt. Maybe before his dad did.

  And Jillian...

  How was it possible that the two knew each other?

  Eliza.

  The thought of her at his father’s mercy crippled him. What would he do if anything happened to her? If she were killed...

  That would be his ruin.

  In that instant, he understood what had made Eliza run. Her mother had felt the kind of love he felt for Eliza. She’d shied away from it, and Brandon had been her first lesson.

  He couldn’t keep running. He ran for different reasons than Eliza. He ran from his heritage, from what ran through his veins. Ever since he was old enough to think about it, he couldn’t come to terms with how he could be his father’s son and not be like him.

  His father was a horrible man. His father had an uncontrollable temper. His father had loved deeply, as deeply as Eliza’s mother had. And his father had lost that love. As a child, Brandon had thought losing love was what had driven his father mad. But the abuse had begun before that. Not as severe, but there. Brewing. Waiting to erupt. His mother’s death had been the catalyst.

  All the women Brandon had pushed away had been the result of seeing his father go mad from loving and losing. Just like Eliza.

  Brandon wasn’t a violent man. He had a temper, oh, yes, when provoked for good reasons. He had a temper. But he was not the violent man waiting to erupt like his father. Eliza had been right about most of that. She’d missed the most important one, though, the one that had them both avoiding love because of what they’d seen as kids.

  He was Brandon Reed, his own man. One who answered to no one, followed no one and feared no one. He was a man who made his own way in life, because he hadn’t had the fortune of having parents to guide him.

  Least of all his father.

  He stepped on the gas, sailing over a hill, taking a little air as he rushed to save the woman he loved. He had to tell her. He had to get there in time.

  That’s when a memory dawned on him.

  * * *

  Eliza kicked the trunk over and over. Jillian had helped Jack tie her and put her here. The way they’d talked to each other was chilling.

  I knew she’d follow me if she saw this car.

  You should go now. The police will be looking for you.

  What about you?

  I’ve got it from here.

  Tied and lying in the trunk, Eliza had watched them hug like father and daughter. Jillian had tears forming in her eyes.

  I’ll be in touch, Jack had said. Like always.

  Like always...

  The car stopped, and Eliza’s pulse resumed a sickly beat of fear and helplessness. She tried desperately to think of a strategy. Jack intended to kill her. What was she going to do?

  The trunk opened. Eliza struggled in her restraints, tied tight and firm. She’d tried to wrestle her way out of them all the way here. Her hands and feet were numb.

  Jack easily hauled her out of the trunk. She hated how she had to lean on him to stand.

  “What are you going to do?” Besides kill her.

  “I’m going to wait for him to find you here.”

  He didn’t expect to get away.

  “Brandon is going to kill you.”

  Jack laughed. “He doesn’t have it in him. He’s a boy in a man’s body, an insolent little boy who never learned to be a man.”

  “What does that make you?”

  “The boy’s father.” Before she could retort, he lifted her and slung her over his shoulder.

  He strode toward the yurt as though nothing in the world would stop him. Dread sickened her more and more the closer she came to her place of death. Knowledge of death was bad enough, knowledge of when and where was infinitely worse.

  How would he do it? Would he strangle her like David and the others?

  He kicked open the door and stopped.

  He didn’t move.

  Eliza tried to look around but in her upside down position, she couldn’t see much. She did see a pair of boots, though.

  Brandon’s boots.

  “Brandon?”

  “Put her down,” he said, cool and calm, the sound of his voice almost foreign. He could be starring in a modern-day Clint Eastwood movie. And his dad was about to make his day.

  She twisted and lifted her body with her abdominal muscles just enough to see him. Leaning against the far wall, he propped a big, long-barreled pistol on his forearm.

  Jack slid her off his shoulder. Her feet landed on the floor and she stumbled, unable to feel her feet. She fell and rolled to her rear, scooting to the wall next to the door.

  “I remember when you used to go to that old corner bar every night,” Brandon said.

  “Yeah? So?” Jack shifted his weight, looking bored.

  “I saw you there once. With Harlan Marks. I didn’t place him as Jillian’s father until I remembered that. It was so long ago that I almost forgot.”

  This time Jack didn’t have a remark.

  “Did you help Jillian kill him?”

&
nbsp; “Since when did you get so interested in who I spent time with at a bar?”

  “Why did you do it?”

  Why had Jack helped Jillian kill Harlan?

  Eliza waited with Brandon. Jack didn’t have anything to lose. He’d resigned himself to going back to prison. He’d only escaped to punish Brandon once and for all.

  “He had an affair with my wife.”

  “Did she kill herself when you found out?”

  Jack stormed toward Brandon. “What do you know about anything? You—”

  Brandon pushed off the wall and punched Jack once, square between the eyes. Jack stumbled and regained his balance, but not before Brandon stretched his pistol out, inches from his left eyeball.

  “I saw you in the bar with him after that!” he roared.

  “Jillian came to me,” Jack relented. “When she was eighteen. She had a plan, and I liked it.”

  To kill Harlan.

  “You’ve been in contact all this time?” Eliza asked, incredulous. The two must have fed off each other’s anger and insanity.

  “I was the father Jillian never had.” He kept his gaze on Brandon. “And she was the daughter I never had. She was the child I never had. She honors me. Loves me. Respects me.”

  “It was hard to respect you when the only thing I ever saw was your fists and bloodshot eyes.”

  “Insolent! You see? You never listened to me. You drove your mother to her grave.”

  “You drove her there. You and Harlan both.”

  The sound of sirens broke the tension, creating a new breed of it.

  Two abusive men had driven Brandon’s mother to her grave. Had she thought Harlan was better? A safe haven? Until she’d discovered he molested his daughter. He hadn’t laid a hand on her, but he had his own daughter.

  Eliza grew infinitely sad. That poor woman. She’d seen what abuse had done to her sons. Imagine how she felt when she learned the next man she loved had violated his daughter.

  Jack charged Brandon, who merely pulled the trigger on his pistol. Without so much as moving, he stopped his father with a bullet.

  Jack landed on his knees, staring in shock at his son before falling facedown on the yurt floor. Full of purpose, Brandon stepped over him and came to Eliza.

  He untied her knots, focused and wordless.

  She worked her numb hands as he untied her feet. “How did you know to come here?” And why had he come after her?

  “Ryker told me.”

  Oh, Ryker! Was he all right?

  Brandon saw her face. “He was okay when I left him with the paramedics.”

  He helped her to her feet, which were prickling from lack of blood flow. When she took a step, she swayed against Brandon.

  Outside, the sound of vehicles approaching alerted her to the arrival of police.

  Brandon lifted her, cradling her in his arms.

  “You don’t have to carry me.” Why had he come for her?

  “Be quiet, Eliza. After we deal with the police and make sure your brother is okay, you and I have a lot to talk about.”

  Chapter 18

  When they reached the hospital, Aegina and the children were already there. She paced in front of her boys, the youngest curled up on a chair sleeping, Evan staring at his mother. Aegina saw her, and Eliza hugged her.

  “He’s in surgery.” Aegina covered her mouth, fighting frightened tears and glancing at her kids. She was trying to be strong for them.

  Eliza refrained from asking if he’d be all right. It was clear Aegina didn’t know. Brandon’s hand on her back provided a modicum of comfort. Whatever he wanted to talk about would have to wait. She didn’t have it in her anymore to hope he’d come to his senses. And she was too worried about Ryker to pay much attention.

  A doctor approached. Nothing in his expression revealed the outcome of the surgery.

  “Mrs. Harvey?”

  “Yes,” Aegina replied shakily.

  “Your husband’s going to be fine. The bullet grazed his lung and passed through. We’ve removed bone fragments from his ribs and he’s lost a lot of blood, but he’ll recover fully.”

  “Oh, thank God!” Aegina exclaimed.

  Eliza nearly collapsed with relief herself. And then Aegina began crying. Brandon put his arm around her and held her close to his side.

  “Mommy, where’s Daddy?” Evan asked, tugging at her shorts.

  Eliza knelt to his level. “They’re going to take him to a room where we’ll be able to go see him, okay?”

  The boy nodded, worry he didn’t quite comprehend aging him beyond his seven years.

  The doctor left them and Aegina turned. “He said Ryker will be asleep for a while.”

  “Do you need anything?” Brandon asked Aegina. “Something to eat or drink?”

  “I’ve got water. The boys and I will go up to Ryker’s room and wait for him to wake up.”

  “Okay. Eliza and I will be back in a little while.”

  Eliza shot him a look. None of the withdrawal she’d picked up on this morning came from him now.

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  He wasn’t going to accept no from her. Aegina smiled. “Go on. I’ll call you when he wakes up.”

  Eliza went with Brandon outside, only to be greeted by a throng of reporters. Questions were firing at them.

  “Did Jillian Marks kill your husband?”

  “Is it true you shot your own father? How do you feel about that?”

  “Is your brother going to be okay, Mrs. Reed?”

  “Yes,” Eliza answered that question with a smile.

  “Did Jack Reed or Jillian shoot him?”

  “Were they working together?”

  “How did you know he’d take Eliza to your property?”

  Brandon ushered Eliza to the truck without comment. She wasn’t in the mood for this, either.

  “Did your father work with Jillian in the triple homicide?”

  Brandon shut the passenger door and went around to open his, reporters clustering around him.

  “Take me to Ryker’s so I can get cleaned up.” Then she’d go back to the hospital. She wasn’t all that dirty, but a shower would feel good after all she’d been through today.

  “You might as well bring all your things with you when you’re finished,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re going to live with me now.”

  “I am, huh?” He was sure acting different.

  “I pictured this differently. No reporters. You and me somewhere a little more romantic.”

  “You? Romantic?” She had a feeling she was about to get her wish.

  “I can be romantic.”

  A hardened, loner rancher who everyone in Vengeance loved. “Prove it.”

  Chuckling, he drove another way that took them into town. In front of an old, historic church with sandstone exterior and a steeple, he parked.

  “Come on.”

  “What are you doing?” Too curious, she got out.

  He took her hand and led her past the church. There was a park next to it, the same park where she’d stripped to her underwear and her teacher had seen her dancing for him. She held on to the stop sign pole and circled around it, sending him a sultry look.

  He stood there grinning at her.

  “This isn’t romantic.”

  “Not yet, no.”

  She took another turn around the pole, seeing people walking up and down the street and gathered in the park, picnicking, or in the playground. They didn’t have the cover of night or the late hour to offer at least some privacy.

  She stopped circling the pole and just looked at him.

  “I’m sorry about this morning,” he said.

  “What changed your mind?”

  “The thought of losing you.” He was no longer grinning. “I watched my dad lose touch with reality after my mother died. Loving her made him go crazy.”

  Kind of like her with her parents. Without realizing it until now, they’d both shared t
he fear of loving someone so much that losing them destroyed them. But not loving destroyed, too.

  “I always thought that about my mother. Except now I see she’s fine. She misses my dad, and will always love him, but she isn’t broken. Not the way I always imagined.”

  “I’m glad you see that now.”

  “I’m glad, you do, too. About your dad. You’re nothing like him, Brandon.”

  “I never would have if it hadn’t been for you.”

  They stood there staring at each other, Brandon with satisfied affection and she teetering on the brink of utter delight. He’d come to his senses. Brandon loved her.

  Then his expression sobered. “Promise me we’ll never forget David.”

  That would be easy. “I promise.” David was a good man. She’d remember him from their youth, before he got embroiled in all his trouble. She’d help Brandon do the same. Remember the good, not the bad. Together they’d celebrate his life that way.

  She moved so that her back was against the stop sign pole.

  He moved forward, leaning one hand on the pole above her head.

  “Let’s get married.”

  “Okay.”

  He grinned again. “That was a lot easier than I expected.”

  “It must be your lucky day.”

  “Lucky. Yeah, I’m lucky all right.” He bent and kissed her, still with his hand on the pole.

  “Is this romantic enough for you?”

  “It’s getting there.”

  “I’ll have flowers delivered later.”

  “That’s better.”

  “To the ranch. Where I want you to be every day.”

  “Yes.” She ran her hands up his chest and kissed him, savoring every liberating, delicious moment of it. She’d be free to kiss him anytime, anywhere, without fear of losing him until death took either one of them from each other. He was hers. Finally.

  “Eliza Harvey, is that you?”

  Brandon pulled back, lowering his hand and turning with Eliza to see a woman approach. At first she didn’t recognize her.

  “Mrs. Thompson?”

  “Are you all right? You’re the talk of the town right now.” She looked from her to Brandon and then up at the stop sign. “But I didn’t hear anything about this.”

  Brandon looked from Eliza to the woman, and then dawning made him grin. “The pole dance.”