Relentless (Fallon Sisters Trilogy: Book #1)

by P. J. O'Dwyer

  Rafe pulled her to him. "For a minute, I actually thought he might be alive."

  She yanked free and moved away, pacing the floor. "He's not." She stopped and glared at him. "Relieved?"

  Yep. But he wasn't fool enough to admit he was glad Tom Ryan was dead—and he wasn't, really.

  "No, confused. Why would Tom's name appear on your phone?" Then he realized something. "You kept it as a spare? The boys called you. Damn it. I'm a knothead."

  She shook her head. "Only Aiden has a phone—since before Tom was killed."

  "Then—"

  "We never found Tom's phone. But Tom's phone found me." She pointed to Rafe's hand. "He called tonight."

  "Who?"

  "Wes."

  Rafe stiffened. "He threaten you?"

  "No. He never says anything."

  Rafe came to his feet and tossed the phone like a venomous snake to the bed. "You certain it's Wes?" He moved closer.

  She gave him a tired look. "Of course it's Wes. He killed Tom. He took his phone."

  He took her arms at the elbows and steered her toward him. "You never canceled it."

  She lifted her chin, her eyes swimming with unshed tears. "It was my only link to Tom—his voice."

  "How long's this been going on?"

  "Only since December."

  "Bendix know?"

  "I told him." She shrugged and sidestepped him. "He's still checking into it."

  Rafe scrubbed his face. "So he let that bastard terrorize you?"

  The tears streamed down her face, and Rafe held her tight to him. "It's all right, Bren." He scooped her up and sat her on the edge of the bed. He knelt down in front of her and untied the shoelaces to her boots and slid them off her feet.

  Her small fingers sifted through his hair. He lifted his head. The look she gave him was utter surrender. He wanted her, but not like this. The circles under her eyes hinted that sleep had evaded her. Well he'd fix that and quick. He kissed her forehead and tried to stand.

  She held him in place, her fingers holding fast to his hair, her eyes searching. "Don't you want me?"

  Rafe groaned. "In the worst way, darlin'." He wiped the tears from under her eyes. "But you need a good night's sleep." He cradled her in his arms and laid her down, pulling up the covers. He kissed the delicate curves of her lips. "No one's going to hurt you. I'm not leaving." He caressed her cheek. Grabbing for the phone resting inside the fold of covers, he held it up. "Kevin needs to know what's going on."

  She nodded.

  He pressed back a shaft of her hair from her face. The moist crescents of her lashes fluttered shut. Her small hand clung to his, and his jaw clenched.

  Screw the circumstances that had brought him into her life. He was so far gone over her, he'd be damned if he was going to have a conscience for wanting Bren Ryan for himself.

  And as far as this battle she stubbornly refused to consider anyone's but hers, he was officially taking it over. She'd fight him on it. But he'd welcome her anger. In a woman with that kind of determination and grit he could forgive a little hardheadedness, especially if she'd earned his respect. And Bren Ryan had most assuredly earned his respect, not to mention, she'd stolen his heart.

  He only hoped she wouldn't stomp on it once she learned he had deceived her.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Rafe's pickup hit the dip hard on the drive leading to Paddy's house, and Bren gripped the handle of the passenger door. Aiden, Finn, and her father, oblivious to the restless solitude upfront and the stone-faced man in the driver's seat, chatted away in the back seat.

  For the fifteen minutes it took to reach her father-in-law's, Rafe's fingers continued to dig into the deep navy of his jeans, moving in a back-and-forth motion. For all of the tough-cowboy attitude, she could see straight through to his soul. He was nervous.

  That little nugget of truth she'd keep to herself. No sense rocking the John Wayne persona he had built up with her boys, not that her boys even knew who John Wayne was. But they knew Rafe, liked him, in fact. He was from Texas, a rough-and-tumble state, that had ranches instead of farms—cowboys instead of farmers.

  She'd allowed herself to lean on Rafe since he'd rescued her almost a week ago. Smart move. Turns out having a liaison in the form of a take-no-crap cowboy was the way to work her buddy Kevin. Without complaint he had opened up an investigation into the break-in. Of course Wes's alibi was solid. No surprise there.

  Over that time, Rafe had taught Aiden the finer points of cowboy life. He could rope a sawhorse while riding. Hoop and holler as good as any cowboy out west.

  Then there was the sad excuse of a dog Rafe had dropped off, his attempt at giving Aiden some responsibility. Of course the novelty had worn off, leaving Roscoe her new best friend and her all-around responsibility. But in all fairness to the breed, Roscoe in the last week had honed his tracking skills in a most convincing manner and had scouted out every stuffed animal and article of clothing Rafe and Aiden had put to the test, making him a regular celebrity in the house when it came to praise and treats.

  "Rafe?" Finn's hand squeezed his shoulder.

  "Yeah, partner?"

  They had become inseparable. Whatever Rafe was doing, Finn was not far behind. In fact, Finn's favorite place to be was on his back. The extra baggage never seemed to bother Rafe. Didn't matter what he was doing, he'd accommodate Finn's request to ride piggyback.

  "After dinner, I'm going to ask Paddy to show you my daddy's room."

  Bren caught the slight frown to Rafe's brow. "Looking forward to it," he called back over his shoulder.

  "His old room is like a freaking museum," Aiden added.

  Rafe's jaw clenched, and Bren's suspicions went on high alert. He was jealous of Tom. She smiled inwardly.

  Rafe pulled up to the two-story Cape Cod and parked. The boys scrambled from the back seat, and her father, spry for seventy-two, stepped off the running board with ease. The boys bounded for the front porch, and the door swung open before they could knock.

  "Right on time." Paddy stepped out dressed in brown corduroy pants and matching flannel shirt. He tweaked Finn's nose. "Want to dunk the fries?"

  "You waited for me?"

  "I sure did." Paddy stepped aside. "They're in the kitchen."

  Finn ran past, and Paddy called back laughing. "But wait for me." He patted Aiden's shoulder. "I got the latest Mario Brothers for the Wii."

  "Sweet." Aiden pushed past and headed for the family room.

  Paddy hugged Bren and shook her father's hand. "How you been, old friend?"

  "Just grand, Paddy, and yourself?"

  "Keeping busy."

  Bren's stomach knotted. There was one more introduction. Bren pushed Rafe in the back forward. "Paddy, you remember Rafe?"

  His eyes lit on Rafe. He had no choice but to crane his head upward. Something registered in those deep inset eyes of Patrick Ryan before fading away to nothingness—would Paddy see Rafe as an outsider trying to take his son's place?

  "I sure do. Good to see you, Rafe." Paddy stuck out his hand.

  Rafe gave one shake and released his hand abruptly. "You, too," he mumbled, and Bren jabbed him in the ribs.

  Paddy stood back, giving them entrance, and Finn hollered from the kitchen. Paddy waved them in. "Excuse me, the little french-fry chef is beckoning." He disappeared down the hall.

  Rafe made a move to enter, and Bren hauled him back. "Be nice," she said through gritted teeth so only he could hear. "You hurt that old man's feelings because you have some bug up your ass about God knows what, and I'm going to hurt you, Langston."

  He smiled at that. "Promise."

  She threw up her hands and motioned him through. "Just go."

  Paddy and Finn kept a vigilant eye on the fries sizzling in the fryer on top of the center island. Her father grabbed the newspaper and settled in the lounger in the corner of the family room, and Rafe sat on the floor next to Aiden. Like a big kid, knees drawn up and back resting against the couch, he was totally immersed
in trying to beat her sweet teen at a game Aiden had mastered years ago.

  At least Rafe was occupied, which left little room for bad behavior, unless she counted the occasional cursing when his car slid off the roadway of the game and he lost.

  After setting the table and getting the go-ahead from Paddy, Bren stepped into the family room. "Dinner's ready."

  Her father peered over his paper and smiled. "And it's a good thing, too." He stood and rubbed his belly. "My stomach has been none too quiet."

  Aiden jumped up and left Rafe on the floor and headed into the dining room.

  Bren placed her hands on her hips and contemplated the rough planes of Rafe's face, wondering what type of boy this cowboy had been while growing up. He obviously had a thing for winning. It was as if he had selective hearing, his gaze intent on the plasma-screen TV, his Mario character yipping with glee as it maneuvered successfully around a curve.

  "It's time to eat."

  He continued to toggle the remote, and Bren's patience thinned. She reached down and snagged the remote from his hands.

  He scowled at her. "Why'd you do that? I was winning."

  "Ever heard of winning the battle but losing the war?" She cocked her head to study him. "Bratty doesn't become you."

  "Nor bossy, you." He hoisted himself up, stopped, and picked up the brass frame off the end table. He studied the photo without a word, set it down, and gave her his back as he headed toward the dining room.

  Bren, left to stare at his back, clenched her fists. This Rafe she did not like—moody and ornery, all because he was uncomfortable around Tom's father.

  When Bren entered the dining room, Rafe, minding his manners, sat stoic in his chair. Finn chattered to Paddy without taking so much as a breath, her father and Aiden frowning, the two directing a covert gaze toward Rafe.

  Bren shrugged and took the seat next to Rafe.

  "Will you do us the honors of saying grace, Daniel?" Paddy asked.

  "I will at that."

  Her father recited the prayer she knew by heart, and everyone dug in. Rafe filled his plate and ate in silence while the rest of them entertained one another about the recent rumor mill around town, which centered mostly round Wes and the horses Grace had been entrusted to care for.

  "So, Rafe, Bren tells me you're from Texas," Paddy said.

  Rafe stopped eating. His back went rigid, and his fingers visibly tightened on his fork. He finished chewing and glanced at Bren, no doubt sensing she was watching his reaction. He swallowed and smiled at her and turned toward Paddy. "That's right. I've lived in Weatherford for thirty-five years."

  "Finn tells me you're the real thing. A real cowboy."

  "I didn't have much choice growing up on a ranch."

  She kicked his ankle.

  To his credit he didn't yelp in pain, but merely grunted quietly and shot her a gaze that could singe her fiery-red hair right off her aching head, thanks to Rafe's rude behavior.

  Paddy chose at that point to let the matter lie. And Aiden, more intuitive than she had believed possible, steered his grandfather toward a conversation of an ATV that Paddy was thinking of purchasing for the boys in the spring.

  When dinner was over and Paddy and her father offered to do the dishes, Bren shooed them into the family room with the boys and offered up Rafe to tidy the kitchen instead.

  Bren prepared the sink with warm water and soap, and Rafe brought her a stack of dishes. When he turned to gather more, she grabbed his arm. "You need to grow up."

  "Last time I checked I was."

  "You know what I'm talking about. I didn't need a boyfriend. This was your—" She peeked around the corner to be sure they were still alone. "You need to get comfortable with being around my family—my whole family—including Tom's father, no matter how weird that makes you feel."

  He glanced down at her hand, holding him in place. "I don't know what you're talking about." He pulled away and began putting the condiments back in the refrigerator.

  Bren scrubbed the dishes, jammed the plates into the dishwasher, and slammed the door.

  Rafe came up behind her. "You forgot this." He held the serving fork from the roast beef, and Bren was tempted to grab it and shove it up his ass.

  Instead, she gave him a tight smile, snatched it from him, and tossed it in the sink. "Outside." She motioned toward the back door. When he didn't move, she yelled, "Now."

  "Mom?" Finn peeked around the corner. "You guys all right?"

  "Just fine." She smiled sweetly for Finn.

  Finn gave a nervous glance toward Rafe. "Paddy's going to show us my daddy's room. You want to come?"

  He pasted a phony grin on his face and turned to answer Finn. "Sure, partner." He made a move to follow and stopped, giving Bren a derisive look. "We done here?"

  "Oh, we're done." She wiped her hands on the tea towel and tossed it in the sink.

  Bren went in and sat with her father while Aiden, Finn, Rafe, and Paddy visited what had become, in Aiden's words, Tom's museum. She didn't need to see his trophies from Little League, the basketball he'd used to throw the winning shot for the Clear Spring Panthers, their high school alma mater.

  She'd lived it.

  She didn't need a stroll down memory lane to tell her just how awesome Tom Ryan was as a friend, lover, and father.

  Bren leaned against her father's portly frame and wrapped her arm around his belly. "How you doing, Dad?"

  He hugged her tight. "I was just about to ask the same of you, sweetheart."

  She smiled up at him. "Sometimes I feel like that little girl growing up. I'm just trying to find my way."

  He squeezed her. "You will, Bren. You're life has been a true upheaval recently, to be sure."

  Try train wreck.

  She nodded against him. "It hasn't been easy for you, either. Losing the house."

  "It worked out. We got a dog out of the deal. And you and Rafe seem to be getting along." She didn't miss his double meaning, except today she wasn't feeling too friendly toward Rafe.

  The familiar click of Rafe's cowboy boots made Bren glance up. He stood in the doorway of the hall leading from Tom's old bedroom, his expression grim. "I can't stay for dessert."

  Bren stood and went to him. "You sick?"

  "No. I just need some space," he said under his breath.

  Bren waved him toward the door. "Take all the space you need, cowboy." The day he'd found her in the broom closet of her father's kitchen, he'd told her his intentions.

  Family's not something I'm looking for.

  She should have been thankful for his candor. Too bad she'd forgotten Rafe Langston's warning until now.

  He touched her arm. "That's not what I meant."

  Bren pulled away. "Go." She walked toward the door, her head held high, and opened it for him. "Paddy can take us home. Have a nice life, Mr. Langston."

  His expression hardened. "You do the same." He cleared the doorway, and Bren slammed the door. She turned and stopped midstep. Aiden and Finn stood in the hallway with Paddy frowning.

  "I take it he had other plans?" Paddy asked.

  Bren shrugged. "Who's ready for dessert?"

  Chapter Twenty

  Paddy turned the suburban around slowly, trying to avoid a cloud of dust, and stopped in front of Bren's house. The boys piled out, saying their good-byes over their shoulders.

  "Thanks, Paddy." From the back seat, her father rapped Paddy's arm with his hand. "Next time we do dinner here. And I'll not take no for an answer, do you hear?"

  Paddy smiled back. "Looking forward to it."

  Her father headed toward the house, the boys ahead, their coats unzipped, flapping in the wind as they climbed the front steps.

  Bren kissed her father-in-law on the cheek. "Thanks for dinner. It was delicious." She grimaced. "And the ride." She reached for the door handle when Paddy grabbed her arm.

  "What do you know about this Rafe Langston?" There was an edge to his voice, ill suited to the Patrick Ryan she knew and love
d.

  Bren let go of the handle, eyeing him suspiciously.

  He shrugged. "He doesn't like me much. Does he?"

  Bren's eyes widened. She'd been telling herself it had something to do with Rafe competing with Tom's ghost or realizing he was getting too close to something he had no intentions of ever having—a family. Or maybe what she experienced in the barn with him after the "cattle drive" was real. She threw her hands up. "Any ideas?"

  He shook his head. "None. I've never met him until the night you called and we rescued those horses."

  Bren pulled on her bottom lip. "That's what he said."

  Paddy's gaze hardened. "You sound like you don't believe him."

  Or you.

  But that was insane. How was it possible Rafe could know Patrick Ryan and he not know Rafe?

  Drawn in by Paddy's caring brown eyes, she had no reason to question his truthfulness. So that only left Rafe. "I want to. But he's not my favorite person right now, considering how he's behaving toward you."

  He patted her leg. "I'm a lot tougher than you think, missy."

  Yes. Patrick Ryan had suffered tragic loses in his life, and Bren would do what she could to spare him any more hurt. Meaning this thing between her and Rafe was at a dead stop until he 'fessed up as to his odd behavior. Bren patted his arm. "I'll get to the bottom of it."

  He smiled. "I have no doubt."

  Bren reached for the door again and stopped. "Paddy? When Rafe was in Tom's room, how did he act?"

  He shrugged. "What do you mean?"

  "What was he doing?"

  "The boys were showing him some photos—mostly when Tom was small. A few of you and Kate, Tom, and Kevin when you were teenagers. Why?"

  "Before dinner he picked up the photo of you and Pamela."

  "The wedding photo on the end table?"

  She nodded.

  "And?"

  "Nothing. He stared at it and put it back."

  "Huh. Not that it's odd."

  "No. I know." She'd done the same many times. Photos were like a looking glass into one's past. But what was Rafe looking for in Paddy and Pamela Ryan's past?

  Bren shook her head and laughed. "I think I'm letting my imagination have its way." Bren glanced at the clock. "I'm a chatterbox. It's almost nine. I should let you go." She hugged him. "Let's keep this between you and me. Not that there's really anything to tell. I just don't want the boys thinking I don't trust Rafe." She grimaced. "That sounded bad. You know what I mean."