Son of a Gun

by Joanna Wayne

  It was unlikely that it would. The CIA agent in charge had ordered them to stay out of the way, but he had promised to alert them the second Caudillo was spotted at the ranch. If he was spotted.

  “Thanks for hanging around,” Damien said. “I’m glad for the company.”

  “One for all, and all for one. That’s the Lambert code.”

  And there it was again. It was all about being a Lambert. Damien stared at the pastures that stretched out in front of him. Not just a ranch, but a legacy that should never have fallen to him. He could keep his silence about the issue no longer.

  “I’m not actually a Lambert.”

  “I know what you mean,” Durk said. “I’m ready to deny kin sometimes myself, and I’m only here weekends. Who’s getting to you? Mother? Sybil? Grandmother?”

  “I’m serious, Durk. I’m adopted.”

  “Right. And I’m running for president.”

  “I’m not joking.”

  Durk stared at him as if he’d grown horns and a tail.

  Damien explained the situation, starting with finding the birth certificate on Friday evening. When he finished, they both set in silence for a good five minutes as the horses meandered along the banks of the creek.

  “I had no idea,” Durk admitted, the shock pulling troubled lines into his face. “But it doesn’t really change anything.”

  “It does for me.”

  “It won’t for any of the rest of us. You’re my brother, just like Tague is. Nothing can change that.”

  “You have to admit it explains a few things, like why nothing I did was ever good enough for Dad. I wasn’t his son.”

  “I think you’re reading way too much into this, Damien.”

  “I don’t.”

  “If Dad didn’t think of you as his firstborn son, then how come as the firstborn, you get the house and the furnishings? Which means you’re the one who passes on the traditions of Christmas in the big house and the family rodeos in the fall and hosting the annual football-kickoff weekend shindig. He’d never have left you that if he didn’t consider you family.”

  “I’m sure Mother insisted.”

  “Even Mother didn’t have that kind of influence over Dad.”

  “So let’s just drop it,” Damien said. “I have more important things on my mind now.”

  “Good idea,” Durk agreed. “Let’s go back to the house.”

  The house that shouldn’t be Damien’s, to wait for a dangerous madman who might never show. But even if he didn’t, Damien wouldn’t give up on finding him. He couldn’t change his relationship with his father, but he would save Emma from Caudillo if it was the last thing he did.

  * * *

  CAUDILLO FLICKED OFF THE news and swerved to the far right lane before slowing and pulling onto the shoulder. Imminent arrest of an ATF agent—hours after he’d made the call to Bent Pine Ranch?

  If they believed he was fool enough to walk into their ill-conceived trap, they were truly imbeciles. But their little ploy would scare that weasel-faced Arnold Sawyer. He was probably messing up a pair of perfectly good trousers at this very minute.

  Caudillo took the untraceable phone from his pocket and made a necessary call.

  In minutes he’d given the orders for an execution. It was a shame he wouldn’t get to perform the duties himself, but he had even more important arrangements to make.

  If it weren’t so easy, outwitting his opponents would be quite fun.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Did you hear the news?”

  Arnold Sawyer looked up from the report he’d been reading, removed his glasses and flashed his secretary a smile. “What news?”

  “That someone in our office is going to be arrested for unethical behavior.”

  “Who’s sleeping with whom now?”

  “That would only be news around here, like getting that call from Emma Muran yesterday.”

  Arnold swallowed hard, almost choking on his own saliva. “You talked to Emma Muran?”

  “No, but the receptionist did. It sounds as if the honeymoon is over for Emma and the billionaire playboy. But this is much bigger. Looks as if someone’s been leaking information to the wrong person and he’s about to get nailed.”

  Emma had escaped. Someone was about to be accused of leaking information. His hands grew clammy. His stomach began to roll. He was in deep trouble.

  He forced himself to maintain a semblance of composure until his secretary closed the door. He had to get out of here fast. There wasn’t even time to make sure he wasn’t leaving behind any incriminating evidence.

  Not that it mattered. He wouldn’t be coming back here again.

  He started for the door and then went back for his laptop. It had information he’d need.

  His door opened again and before he could turn around it closed and he heard the lock click into place.

  “Going somewhere, Sawyer?”

  “Who are you?”

  “A friend of a friend.”

  “How did you get in here?”

  “It wasn’t easy. You’ve caused quite a commotion around here today, but no one wanted to keep the soft-drink delivery man away.”

  “I didn’t tell anyone anything. I swear I didn’t. I did everything Caudillo ever asked me to do. Everything. I repaid him a thousand times over for paying for my daughter’s operation.”

  “Okay. Calm down and go back to your desk. We’ll talk. Perhaps we can work something out.”

  Arnold turned around. Two steps later he felt the knife plunge through his flesh and slit through the veins in his neck. Blood gushed from everywhere. Images of his wife and daughter flashed though his mind and then dissolved into total blackness.

  * * *

  IT WAS TEN PAST THREE IN THE afternoon when Damien and Durk recieved word that Arnold Sawyer, a senior agent with twenty-plus years of service and a spotless record, had been murdered in his office. He had been one of the key players in the failed operations and searches of Enmascardo Island. Caudillo knew how to pick his sources.

  “So that’s it,” Durk said. “A dead agent can’t talk.”

  “So much for my plan,” Damien said.

  “It wasn’t your fault it failed or that Agent Sawyer is dead.”

  “Somehow that doesn’t make me feel any better.” He walked over to the counter and poured himself another cup of strong black coffee. He carried it back to the kitchen table. The waiting for Caudillo to appear at the ranch was starting to grate big-time on his nerves.

  “It’s so quiet around here that it’s almost eerie,” Damien said.

  “I was just thinking the same thing. If Caudillo is coming, I hope he makes it soon.”

  But he didn’t make it soon. Afternoon turned to the hazy shadows of twilight and then the full blackness of a cloudy, starless night shrouded the ranch.

  Finally, Durk sacked out on the couch while Damien added another log to the fireplace.

  “If I fall asleep, wake me at the first hint of trouble,” Durk said.

  “I will.” The first streaks of sun were coming up over the horizon and filtering through the windows when Damien finally closed his eyes. When he did, it was as if a curtain opened and Emma appeared on the stage. Only she wasn’t alone.

  A hideous monster was there with her, pulling her into his lap, running his fingers through her silky hair. Brushing her flesh with hands that looked like claws.

  “You can’t save her,” the monster cried. “You’re not a Lambert.”

  The voice belonged to his father.

  Damien jerked awake. His heart was pounding. Bright sunshine flooded the room. His phone was jangling loudly. He jumped from the chair where he’d fallen asleep and took the call, praying that Caudillo had arrived at Bent Pine Ranch and was already in the clutches of the CIA. “Damien here,” he answered.

  “This is Jerry Delaney. I have news.”

  “Good, I hope.”

  “The best. You can stop worrying about Caudillo or Anton Klein as we know
him.”

  “Does that mean you have him in custody?”

  “No. It means he’s dead. It seems he wasn’t in the United States when he called the ranch.”

  As much as he’d like to, Damien couldn’t quite accept that it was over. “How do you know this?”

  “There was an explosion on his yacht this afternoon at about the same time someone was slitting Sawyer’s throat. Five crewmen are missing, supposedly thrown into the water by the force of the blast. But not Caudillo’s. His body was found on board and identified by the captain.”

  “So all you have is the captain’s word?”

  “No. The boat is in port and the the local authorities did a fingerprint check. There’s an exact match. And now I have someone here who’d like to say hello.”

  “It’s over, Damien. It’s really over. The monster is dead.”

  Emma’s voice sang with excitement. “I’m on my way back to the ranch and I can’t wait to see you.”

  “I’ll be here.” He wanted to say so much more. Like the fact that he loved her. That he never wanted her out of his life. But words could wait. Emma was safe and she was coming back to him.

  * * *

  EMMA COULDN’T STOP SMILING. It was as if her heart were so full of happiness that it might burst from her chest.

  She knew she’d still have nightmares about her time with Caudillo. There would still be days when she’d wake up and for a horrifying second think she was still locked away in his island fortress. But those times would grow fewer and further apart. She’d never forget the horrors, but she wouldn’t let them rob her of her happiness, either.

  Damien was waiting outside when the car she was in pulled up in front of the rambling ranch house. She jumped from the car and into his arms. He swung her around as if she were a kid, making her dizzy with excitement and desire. And then he pulled her to him and held her so close she could barely breathe.

  When his lips met hers, she melted into his kiss. She could have stayed in his arms forever had not the rest of the family rushed out to welcome her home.

  Minutes later, they’d all gathered on the glassed-in porch and the celebration shifted into high gear. Tague popped the cork on the champagne. Emma settled into the rocker, cradling the precious Belle in her arms while life, laughter and intoxicating relief rocked the room.

  Carolina pulled a chair up next to Emma. “I have a confession to make.”

  “Confess anything today and I’d forgive you.”

  “I was a nervous wreck last night, and I just kept thinking I had to do something positive. I hope you don’t consider this meddling in your affairs, but I called around and found out that the daughter of a friend of mine is one of the supervisors in charge of finding foster parents in our area. So I called her and explained the situation with Belle.”

  Emma held her breath, not sure she wanted to hear the rest of this confession. “What did you find out?”

  “That there’s a real shortage of foster homes for infants in this area. She sees no reason why they can’t place Belle in your care until the father is located if you’ll take the fostering-parent classes and if you’re approved as a foster parent. I’m sure you will be.”

  “Me? Keep Belle?”

  “Only if you want to. And if you agree to stay in the county. But it will still only be until they find the real father.”

  Emma’s eyes filled with tears. “I don’t know what to say. I so want to take care of Belle as long as she needs me. And when I have to give her up, I’ll just have to handle it. Thanks. Thank you for everything.”

  “It’s partly selfish, you know. I’m not ready to lose either of you.”

  And if Damien loved her as much as she did him, Carolina would get her wish. But as yet, Damien had not mentioned love. Maybe it was only the fact that she needed protection that had turned him on.

  No, she didn’t believe that. He might not have said the words yet, but she’d seen love in his eyes and felt it in his touch.

  Yet when she looked for him she realized that he’d slipped away from the celebration and was nowhere in sight.

  * * *

  CAROLINA SLIPPED OUT THE back door and followed Damien as he took the well-worn path to the horse barn. The letter she’d cherished for years was clutched in her right hand. Running, she caught up with Damien and slipped her left arm though his. “It’s not like you to leave a family celebration.”

  “That was when I thought I knew where I fit in the family.”

  “I was afraid that might be behind your swift mood change.”

  “You should have told me sooner that I was adopted.”

  “I know that now, but you were too young at first. By the time you were old enough, it didn’t seem worth the argument it would have caused with Hugh. Besides, you were always our son in our hearts. To tell you the truth, I don’t see how you can’t know that.”

  “Did you insist Dad leave the house to me?”

  “The subject never came up, Damien. You were the firstborn. The house was rightfully yours. Look, I know you had issues with Hugh at times. He was hard on you, but he loved you. I know telling you that isn’t getting through to you, but perhaps this will.” She handed him the letter and then turned and walked back to the house, leaving him to read it in privacy.

  * * *

  DAMIEN LEANED ON THE DOOR to the tack room as he read the letter.

  Happy First Anniversary to my beautiful and dearly beloved wife.

  Damien felt like an intruder as he read the proclamations of love written to his mother. It wasn’t until the last paragraphs that he realized why she’d given him the letter to read.

  I’m still awed by the miracle of our son, Damien. You brought me love and a zest for life. Damien has brought me a reason to be an example of all that a man should be. I expected to love him. I never expected him to become the center of our life and for me to enjoy just watching and playing with him so much.

  I just pray that we have a houseful of more sons and that we’ll love them just as much—if that’s even possible.

  Damien reread the letter, more slowly this time, letting the words sink in. The fierce sense of betrayal faded a bit. Maybe he had overreacted and judged his father falsely. It would take time to work that out in his mind. But even he couldn’t deny that being a part of the Lambert family was embedded in his very soul.

  He pushed the thoughts aside to deal with on another day. Right now, he had to make a few urgent decisions on how to ask Emma to be his wife, and he always thought better on horseback. He didn’t want to rush her. He’d give her all the time she needed.

  God help him if it took too long. How many cold showers could he survive?

  * * *

  AN HOUR LATER, DAMIEN STILL hadn’t returned to the house. When Belle began to fret, Emma pulled a light blanket around her and walked into the backyard to soak up some sunshine. The cold spell had passed and the January temperature was flirting with the seventy-degree mark.

  She walked to the swing and sat down, moving her feet just enough to create the gentle swaying movement that soothed Belle when nothing else could.

  “You’re my miracle, Belle. If not for you, I would have never stayed on this ranch long enough to fall in love with Damien.”

  She heard frootsteps behind her and spun around.

  “So you love him? Isn’t that nice?”

  Caudillo. Only this time the voice was more than a nightmare in her head.

  She opened her mouth to scream, but Caudillo’s left hand closed over her lips. His right one pushed the tip of a knife between her shoulder blades and plunged it into her flesh. Hot, sticky blood ran down her back.

  “Scream and I’ll kill the baby. You know I will, so don’t tempt me.” This time he let the knife cut along her arm, and the blood dripped onto her shoe and into the dirt.

  “Now get up and start walking away from the house toward that cluster of trees. Your rope is waiting, my dear.”

  Paralyzing fear ran ice-col
d through her veins. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

  “And you’re supposed to be on Enmascarado Island.”

  The terrifying truth infiltrated her horror. “You weren’t on that yacht when it blew up.”

  “Now, how did you guess?”

  “But you planned that explosion. You killed your own crew.”

  “Everyone has to die sometime.”

  “How did you fake the fingerprints?”

  “Silly girl. Silly, silly girl. Money buys anything a man wants. I’m sure your new boyfriend knows that. Damien Lambert is one of the richest men in Texas. But you like money and yachts. That’s what attracted you to me.”

  “Damien is nothing like you, Caudillo. Nothing.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure of that, but it doesn’t really matter. You won’t live to find out. Now start walking.” The point of the knife plunged into the flesh between her shoulder blades and she felt a hot, sticky trickle of blood slide down her back. She walked as if in a torturous trance.

  “It didn’t have to be this way, Emma. Of all the girls I chose, you are the one I might have cherished. And yet you were repulsed at my touch.” He shoved her again and she stumbled forward and into the cluster of trees.

  “Now lay the baby on the grass and take off those horrid clothes that a real woman would never be caught dead in.” He chuckled at his own sick joke.

  He was going to kill her. But not quickly. That wasn’t his style. She remembered the story of the woman he’d tortured, cutting off her breasts and then—

  No. She would not let him paralyze her with fear when she had to save herself. She was not ready to die.

  “If you want my clothes off, you’ll have to take them off yourself.”

  He pushed her to the ground and put the knife to Belle’s chest. “Is this what you want?”

  Her heart plunged to the depths of her soul. “No, don’t hurt Belle. Please, Caudillo. I’ll do anything you say, just don’t hurt Belle.”