“You turned out as beautiful as I knew you would.”
Startled not only by the compliment, but by the warm vibrancy of Cash’s voice, Reine set down her glass and tried to keep her tone light. “Flatterer. But it’s not like we haven’t seen each other over the years.”
“From afar,” he agreed.
“That was your choice.”
“What if I choose to close the distance between us?”
He was gazing at her so intently that her heart skipped a beat and she covered by picking up her drink and fortifying herself with another long swallow. What if he was serious? If he pursued her, could she resist?
“Why would you want to?” she then asked.
“Because you’re one of a kind.”
“Like that fireplace you bought?”
“Because I need someone like you in my life.”
“‘Someone’ is pretty generic.”
“Because I didn’t even know how much I missed being with you, sharing something—”
“Awful?” she finished for him.
“—that makes me feel...different than I do normally, I guess.”
It was amazing what a little tequila did to a man’s tongue. Could be there was a beating heart in that broad chest, after all, Reine thought.
For a moment, Cash’s expression was open—unguarded—and Reine felt as if she could see straight through to his soul. She sensed that, while he had everything tangible a man could desire, he was empty inside of the things that counted.
The good things.
The things she had recognized in him even at age ten, when she’d first been brought to the ranch by Aunt Marlene. That thirteen-year-old boy had been filled with joy and passion and loyalty. Now, all she sensed inside him was an open wound of a soul filled with bitterness and loneliness that he kept trying to patch with material goods.
It made her want to weep.
“So, what do you think, Reine?” he asked when she’d been quiet for too long. “About you and me.”
“I think you can’t depend on another person for your own happiness.”
“I can try.”
“Happiness comes from within, Cash. It comes from knowing you’re the best you can be. Inside, where it counts. It means living for the now.”
“I do that.”
“And for the future.”
“I’m building my future every day.”
“Most of all, it means letting go of the past.”
He was silent for a moment before quietly asking, “You’re saying I should let go of you?”
Reine shook her head. “You don’t have me to let go of in the first place, Cash. You made certain of that, years ago. Your money may be able to buy you a lot of things, but I don’t happen to be one of them.”
“You’re that rich?”
Coming from someone else, the question might have shocked her. But she was getting used to the way Cash thought strictly in terms of dollars.
“In the things that count, yes, I am rich. As for money—that doesn’t really matter.”
“You can say that because you’ve always had it.”
Now she was shocked. “What in the world gave you that idea?”
“You used to brag about the trust fund that you inherited from your mother.”
Reine might have laughed if the truth weren’t so sad. “Right. The trust fund.” The one her father had drained until her mother had refused to let him touch another penny, after which he’d done his own disappearing act.
She’d inherited what had been left, all right—enough to see her through college, provide a down payment on a modest house and endow Populace with seed money. The limited principal had run out years ago, but Cash didn’t need to know that.
“My trust fund did give me a decent start in life,” she said. “For which I am very grateful.”
The food came then, and Reine dug in, her appetite fueled by the drink. She devoured a pork tamale and half a chicken enchilada before realizing Cash was merely picking at his carne asada. He seemed to be concentrating on his margarita instead of his steak. And on his thoughts.
Reine left him to them, figuring he needed a little space to consider what had been, in the end, a rejection. For, unless he was willing to change, she wasn’t ready to let him into her life, no matter how strong the attraction between them. She guessed he needed a few minutes to comprehend that.
And so she wasn’t ready for him saying, “So tell me what you know about the problems at Matlock Construction,” making her feel as if she’d just been thrown a curveball.
Here she was, starting to relax—starting to feel mentally in tune with him—and Cash had to go and ruin it by pumping her for information about her uncle’s business. Her appetite suddenly gone, she sat back in her chair and stared.
How could he be so callous?
“Do you really think I would betray the confidence of the people I love for a drink, a dinner and a proposition of sorts?” she asked.
“‘Betray’? I thought you wanted to figure out what happened to Gray.”
“What does the construction company have to do with the kidnapping?”
“Maybe nothing. I’m just playing the angles.”
“Isn’t that what you’ve been doing all along?” she demanded. “Uncle Jasper claims you’ve single-handedly tried to ruin his business.”
“Not single-handedly. There are other aggressive competitors in our field. Wayne Albright, Evan Bixler and John Lonato, to name a few. I wonder if any of these men has reason to go after Matlock on a personal level.”
Bixler—why was that name so familiar? Reine wondered.
Cash was saying, “Try to remember anything Matlock might have said about them,” when a dark-haired woman approached their table.
“I was told you wanted to see me. Dolores Zaldava,” the woman introduced herself. “No complaints about the food or service, I hope.”
“None at all,” Cash said, immediately standing. He pulled out a vacant chair. “Would you join us for a moment?”
“Certainly.” She took the offered seat. “So, what can I do for you?”
“We’re looking for Selena Cullen,” Reine said. “We stopped by Enchanted. Dominick told us we might be able to find Selena here.”
“Oh. I’m not expecting her tonight. Actually, I haven’t heard from her in days.”
And Reine could tell that disturbed the manager. Odd. Neither her employee nor her good friend seemed to know what Selena Cullen was up to.
“Could Selena be out of town?” Cash asked.
“No. I mean...I don’t think so. She didn’t say, exactly.” Dolores looked from one to the other. “Your seeing her—it’s important?”
“Very,” Reine assured the manager. “I hope nothing is wrong.”
“Oh, dear, surely not. She’s had enough grief lately with Jimmy’s death, and all. I can’t imagine what it would be like to lose one of my kids.”
“Her son died?” Cash interjected. “How recently?”
Dolores sat back and stared at him. “There I go, talking out of school, again. I assumed you were Selena’s friends. How did you say you know her?”
“We didn’t,” Reine admitted. “It’s a friend-of-a-friend kind of thing.”
“And just which friend might that be? Who are you?”
Watching carefully for her reaction, Reine said, “My name is Reine Kendrick. Jasper Matlock is my uncle.”
The manager’s expression immediately closed. “You’ll forgive me, but I must take care of a few things.” She pushed herself away from the table and rose. “If I hear from Selena, I’ll tell her you’re looking for her.”
On that note, she spun on her heel and walked straight out of the room.
“Odd reaction, don’t you think?” Cash commented.
“She doesn’t like Uncle Jasper, that’s for certain.”
“Too bad we didn’t get a few more minutes with her. She obviously has some clue as to what was going on between him an
d Selena Cullen.”
“Poor woman,” Reine murmured, thinking about her loss. She could imagine how hard Aunt Marlene would take it if she were to lose Gray. “Maybe it’s just as well we didn’t find her.”
“At least not until we learn exactly how her son died.”
CASH CALLED UP THE obituary from the Santa Fe Sun via the Internet. Wanting to satisfy his curiosity about Jimmy Cullen’s death, he’d brought Reine to the Cash Development offices to let his state-of-the-art equipment get the information for them. He sat behind his desk while she set herself as far from the computer—and him—as possible.
“I found it,” he told her.
“What does it say?” She roused herself from the leather chair in the seating area and drew closer.
Cash quickly scanned the short paragraph. “Noting significant but the date of death and that he made his home in Espanola. Let’s see what else I can find.”
He set up a new search and was quickly rewarded with links to several articles about Cullen’s death. He called up the one with the latest information.
“Here we go.” He skimmed and related the story in shorthand fashion. “James Cullen found dead in his apartment by the cleaning woman.... Christ... only twenty-eight years old and he committed suicide!”
Why? He’d have had his whole life ahead of him.
“Did he leave a note?” Reine asked, now standing directly behind him.
As she looked over his shoulder, her hip pressed against his back. The room suddenly shrank. Cash had to force himself to concentrate.
“No note. But suicide was the medical examiner’s finding. And the authorities suggested that Cullen had gone into a severe depression due to a failed business.”
Her voice was a little shaky when Reine asked, “What kind of business?”
“A fledgling heating and air-conditioning outfit.” He continued to scan the article and knew she wasn’t going to like the rest. “Seems Matlock Construction bought him out for peanuts.”
Reine caught her breath. “Uncle Jasper was involved?”
“Don’t sound so horrified Like I told you before, it’s just business.” Cash couldn’t believe he was actually defending the very man he’d been in the process of ruining. “Bigger companies eat up little ones or run them into the ground every day. It’s not like he killed Jimmy Cullen. Or that he had any clue the guy would go off his rocker over a failed business.”
“But Selena Cullen must blame Uncle Jasper for his death, right? Undoubtedly that’s why they had that confrontation in public.”
“Could be,” he said.
“This sounds awful, I know...but in a way, I’m relieved. Not about anyone dying, of course. I mean, I thought Uncle Jasper and Selena were having an...”
When she couldn’t seem to finish, Cash said, “So did I.” He couldn’t miss the tears filling her eyes.
“It’s just that I’m relieved for Aunt Marlene is all.”
Cash nodded. Of course he understood.
Gathering more details from the article, he was bothered by the particular June date of this company takeover. It came on the heels of Cash Development’s taking over a small subsidiary of Matlock Construction a few weeks before—another heating and air-conditioning company—part of Cash’s plan to cripple Matlock financially.
Cash sat back and thought about it.
He’d finagled a company out of Matlock, so the old man had turned around and done the same to someone weaker. And then the young man had turned around and eaten a gun.
The degree of separation between him and the late Jimmy Cullen was too close for Cash’s comfort—not that he was responsible for the death, either, he told himself.
But where did culpability begin and where did it end? he wondered.
He also wondered what kind of a woman this Selena Cullen might be. Could she be tough enough to exact revenge? A son for a son?
A cold sweat enveloped him as he viewed the remaining articles without really digesting any new information.
Suddenly remembering Reine, he saw that she’d gone back to her chair. She seemed withdrawn. Depressed. Drowning in her own thoughts.
The same ones he kept having about Gray?
Closing down his computer, he said, “Hey, I think I’m ready for another margarita. A serious one, this time.”
Reine started as if she had forgotten him, as well. Coming out of her trance, she rose and, brow furrowed, concentrated on straightening some invisible wrinkle or other in her skirt.
“A drink sounds tempting,” she admitted, keeping her gaze directed everywhere but at him. “But if we’re serious about finding Gray, we probably should call it a night.”
She was probably right.
Not that he was counting on getting any sleep.
The degree-of-separation theory that gave Selena Cullen power over Gray because of something he’d started was tearing Cash up inside.
What if Matlock had been right and he was the one to blame for Gray’s plight?
ALL FOR ONE AND ONE for all...
They were crawling through the dark, dank tunnel, one after the other--Cash taking the lead as always, Gray bringing up the rear behind Reine—all determined to find the opening on the other side.
There had always been stories about the cave mouth cut into a slope and cleverly concealed by a large rock outcropping in the hills near the chile mill; about the subterranean passages that went all the way to Black Mesa, ten miles distant, with other openings along the way. But no one had ever discovered the cave that they knew of.
Not until now.
Cash had been the one to find the opening, to convince them to explore inside. to choose which twists and turns to take. He never faltered Never doubted himself. Never doubted them.
“I don’t think this is such fun, ” Reine said as the tunnel began narrowing around them. “It’s kinda spooky.”
Not that she stopped or asked them to quit.
“There’s nothing to be scared about!” Cash insisted, though he paused and turned as best he could, aiming their only flashlight back at them.
Gray was practically blinded by the light and had to squint to see anything of the two ahead of him.
Eleven-year-old Reine was never afraid of anything—or at least, nothing she would admit to. So if she said it, she was past scared, as the glimpse of her face convinced him.
“I don’t like this place, either,” Gray immediately piped up. “Let’s go back.”
“You got to be kidding!” Cash groused.
“Uh-uh. I just didn’t want to say anything first,” Gray lied for Reine’s sake.
If Cash guessed otherwise, he didn’t say. He didn’t argue about it, either.
“All right. But I don’t see any place up ahead where we can turn around. You’ll have to back out. ”
“Okay by me.”
“Me, too,” Reine said, relief in her voice.
Gray started to crawl backward, and could hear more than see the others follow.
Cash was always fair. Always took others’ needs into consideration. Always put him and Reine first.
He didn’t admire anyone more.
He only wished they could be brothers instead of secret friends.
GRAY WOKE IN A SWEAT. In the dark. Feeling as if the walls of the abandoned gristmill were closing in on him the way that tunnel had done to Reine.
He’d never gone back there. Not alone. And not because he’d been afraid to, but because of the pact.
He wasn’t a kid anymore. He now knew that he and Cash were brothers. Cash knew it, too; but once armed with the knowledge, he’d run from the fact.
All for one and one for all.
Gray was the one in trouble this time. Only this time he’d have to figure his own way out.
Though Cash and Reine had been here earlier, the old magic between the three of them was apparently gone, or they would have sensed how close he was and found him.
Besides, he couldn’t count on Cash anymore.
He struggled onto an elbow and scooted his body around until he could feel the lump beneath the edge of the bedroll. When his kidnappers had returned earlier, they’d let him relieve himself outside. He’d managed to pick up a nice sharp stone.
But then they’d sedated him again. He’d been asleep for some while now. He didn’t know how long.
He positioned the stone so he could saw the ropes against it when he heard the hoofbeats.
Damn!
Frustration welled in him as he hid the stone under the bedroll again and scooted back around into a supine position.
One of them was back and his escape plan would have to be put on hold for a while longer.
CASH INSISTED ON SEEING her inside and Reine didn’t argue. She was spooked by the knowledge of Jimmy Cullen’s suicide and didn’t really want to be alone.
“If you still want that drink...”
“If I didn’t have to drive...”
Was Cash looking for a polite way to get away? Or was he looking for something else altogether?
Testing, Reine suggested, “How about a cup of tea for the road?”
“Sounds good.”
He probably hated tea, she thought, leading the way into the kitchen. Maybe he just didn’t want to be alone any more than she did.
“Great room,” he said.
His appreciative tone made her smile.
“I had it renovated when I bought the place. I’ve always thought of the kitchen as being the heart of a home. A person should want to spend time in it.”
“Then it’s a success.”
As Reine filled the kettle with water, she noticed him inspecting one of the freestanding cabinets designed so it could be moved around according to her whim. Mostly of stained wood, it was accented with painted insets and a whimsical “snake” handle. Other Southwestern animals had been added to each of the cabinets.
“I had them custom-made,” she said.
“So I see.” He hunkered down to take a closer look. “By the same craftsman who built your desk?”
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