“Yes,” Dawn said softly, “yes, he is.”
Tommy threw himself into her arms when he saw her. She drew him outside, to where she’d left her car, and told him they were going to have a very special evening, just the two of them.
His face fell. “But we’re havin’ a cookout. An’ cake and ice cream,” he said. “Didn’t Mrs. Wilton tell you? It’s Barry’s birthday. He’s gonna be eight.”
Dawn squatted down and brushed her son’s soft golden curls from his forehead. “I know, baby. But think of the fun we’ll have. We can have hot dogs, same as you’d have if you were staying here.”
“I won’t get to grill mine on a stick.”
“No. You won’t. Tell you what. You pick what you want for supper. McDonald’s? Burger King? I know. We’ll go to that place where they serve those delicious waffles. You can have one with strawberries and whipped cream and—”
“You can stay here and go to the party with me.”
Dawn cupped her son’s face in her hands. “Listen to me, Tommy. We’re going to play a very special game tonight. Remember that movie about the puppies that ran away and had to hide from a bad person?”
Tommy’s eyes widened. “Are we getting a puppy?”
“Sweetheart, pay attention, okay? We’re going to pretend we’re like those puppies. We’re going to get into Mommy’s car and drive away from here as quickly as we can.”
Tommy pushed out his bottom lip. “I don’t think I’m gonna like this game, Mom.”
Mom. Her little boy had called her Mom again. He was definitely growing up and now he was going to have to grow up even faster.
“Thomas.”
“You never call me that unless you’re mad at me.”
“I’m not mad at you, baby.” Dawn pulled him into her arms and gave him a quick, hard hug. “I just need you to be as big a boy as you can, okay?” She sat back on her heels, smiled and adjusted his collar. “Now I want you to get into the car and put on your seat belt.”
Tommy sighed. “Okay, Mama. Lemme just go get my jacket—”
“No!” She spoke sharply. Her son looked at her in surprise and she stood up, reminded herself that she didn’t want to scare him, and held out her hand. “You won’t need it. There’s always that big old blanket I keep in the trunk that we use when we picnic. If you get cold, I’ll wrap you in that. We can’t waste time going back to your room. Remember, we’re like those puppies from that movie, on the run and moving fast.” Tommy looked doubtful and she flashed another smile and tapped him lightly on the bottom. “Okay, baby. You go scoot right on into—”
“Hello, Dawn.”
She knew the voice instantly. The coldness of it, the menace inherent in the flat intonation, were as familiar as if four days had gone by, not four years.
Dawn straightened up and turned to face the man who haunted her dreams.
He hadn’t changed at all. The empty eyes. The thin smile. The hands, flexing and unflexing at his sides in promise of what was to come. He was all that was evil, and he had come for her just as she had always known he would.
“You were real easy to follow,” he said softly, “all the way from that fancy hotel to here.”
“Mama?”
Tommy’s voice was a soft question. Dawn realized she was clasping his shoulder, digging her fingers into his tender flesh.
“Go in the house, baby,” she said softly.
“Mama, what’s the matter?”
“Nothing. Go on, Tommy. Do as I said. Find Mrs. Wilton and tell her—”
“Hello, Thomas.”
“Hello,” her son said, with all the innocence of his seven years. “Are you a friend of my mama’s?”
Harman squatted down. His teeth flashed in a smile that made Dawn’s belly knot. “You could say that, boy. Why don’t you come shake hands?”
“Tommy.” Dawn pushed her son toward the door without taking her eyes from her husband. “Get into the house. Now.”
“But, Mama…”
“Do what I tell you, Tommy. Go inside. Tell Mrs. Wilton to call the police.”
“It’s going to be hard to do that,” Harman said lazily, rising to his full height, “considerin’ that the phones ain’t working.” He reached for his belt and withdrew a hunting knife that reflected the sharp glare of the late-afternoon sun. “Funny, how a modern thing like a phone line just can’t stand up to a little wear and tear.”
“Harman.” Dawn’s teeth chattered. She had to tear her eyes from the blade. She knew how sharp it was; she’d spent endless evenings, watching her husband hone the steel to a fine, deadly edge. “Harman? I’ll do whatever you want.”
“Damn right you will.”
“Just—just let Tommy go.”
“My truck’s right back there.” Harman jerked his head toward one of the outbuildings. “You and the boy get movin’.”
“I’ll go. Not Tommy. There’s no need for you to take him.”
“No need?” Harman’s face darkened. “What does a whore know of a man’s needs, save for the only one she’s fit to service?” He took a step forward. “Move!”
“Mama…” Tommy buried his face against Dawn and began to cry. “I don’t like this man.”
“`Mama,’“ Harman mimicked, “`I don’t like this man.’ Damn you,” he roared, “you see what you’ve done here? You took a man-child and turned him into a sissy. Stop that bawlin’, boy.” Tommy’s sobs only grew louder. “Goddamn you, stop that snivelin’ or I’ll start the lessons you need to learn afore we get—”
Tires squealed. Dust flew. Harman whirled around as a pair of SUVs roared across the hard-packed dirt and stopped. Dan Coyle and two of his men jumped out of one; Keir and Gray jumped from the other.
“Well, well, ain’t this nice?” Harman said softly. “We got ourselves all kinds of company.” He smiled, locked his eyes on Keir and Gray and tossed his knife from hand to hand. “Welcome, gentlemen. I should have expected the both of you’d turn up, considerin’ how cozy I’m sure you’ve been with my wife.”
Gray looked at Harman. Their eyes met, and he realized that he’d never understood the full meaning of hatred until now.
“Kitteridge,” he said softly.
Dawn gave a choked sob. Gray risked a quick look at her. I love you, he thought fiercely, as if she could see into his head, his heart, his very soul. He felt the power of that hope sweep through him as he turned his gaze on Harman.
“Let them go, Kitteridge,” he said.
“You’re some piece of work, Baron, you know that?” Harman spat a glob of saliva at the ground. “All that crap about wantin’ to give the harlot a music box and here you ended up givin’ her what’s hangin’ between your legs.”
Gray’s eyes were flat. Harman laughed, reached out to Dawn and wrapped a hand around her arm.
“It wasn’t no music box brought you to my mountain. Did you think I’d really believe that? She come into money. I want to know how much.”
“A lot.” Gray flashed a quick look at Dawn. Harman’s fingers had to be hurting her but she was staring at Gray, eyes wide, as the fabric of deceit he’d woven began to unravel. I love you, he thought again. “A lot,” he repeated, steadying his gaze on Harman. “And it can be yours, if you play your cards right.”
“Damn right. She’s my wife.”
“Yeah, but you don’t know where the money is or how to get it. I do.”
“Meaning?”
“Let my friend here take the boy and I’ll tell you. It’s impossible to talk with the kid making all that noise.”
Harman’s eyes narrowed. Then he jerked his head at Keir. “Get the brat out of here.”
“Keir,” Gray said softly, without looking at him, and Keir nodded, scooped the sobbing child into his arms and started toward the house. “No,” Gray said sharply. “Take the truck. Get him out of here.” Seconds later, the SUV roared away. One down, Gray thought, and one to go.
“Now,” Harman said, “you tell me about the money.”
>
“It’s in a safe-deposit box.”
A shifty smile curled across Harman’s mouth. “An’ you got the key, I bet.”
“Yes.” The lies came easily, just as long as he didn’t look too hard at Dawn, didn’t let himself see the expression he knew would be on her face. “I do.”
“But you’d give it to me.”
“Yes.”
“Why would you do that? The way I figure it, you been screwin’ my wife so’s you could get some of that money for yourself.”
“You’re a smart man, Kitteridge. You figured it out before anybody else. But the thing is, you do something to her and there’s no way anybody can touch the money. She needs to put her signature on a piece of paper.”
“An’ you were gonna be the man who’d share that happy moment with her.” Harman grinned, tightened his grasp on Dawn and yanked her closer. “Ain’t that the way you planned it, city man?”
“Like I said, you’re smart.”
Gray could see Harman processing what he’d told him. Greed was a powerful motivator. In his line of work, he’d seen it make men who thought they were smart overlook the most damning details. He could only hope Harman would make that same mistake.
“Why should I believe you?”
“Because you don’t have much choice.”
Seconds dragged by. Finally Harman nodded. “First, you call off the cops.”
“Coyle?” Gray spoke to Dan but kept his eyes on Harman. “Get your men out of here.”
“I don’t take orders from you, Baron.”
“He’s raised the stakes too high, Coyle. Don’t be a fool. Do as I tell you.”
More time slipped by. Then Dan motioned his men into the SUV. They drove away and silence descended on the desert, broken only by the distant cry of a hawk. A sudden gust of wind blew its heated breath across the sand; it lifted a tendril of Dawn’s hair from her temple.
Time seemed to stop. Then Harman slid his arm across Dawn’s chest and yanked her back against him.
“Now you give me the key to that safe-deposit box.”
“Sure,” Gray said, with an easy smile. “But you have to give me something first. Put away that knife and let her go.”
“You got balls, Baron, I’ll give you that.”
“Do it, or the deal’s off.”
“You just finished tellin’ me I need her to sign some papers. Now you want me to let her go. I ain’t the dumb country boy you seem to think. How’s she gonna sign papers if I let her go?”
Gray took a slow step forward. “Stop and think, Kitteridge. Take a look at the lady. She’s terrified. How are we going to travel to Austin with a woman who looks like she’s scared to death of us?”
Harman frowned. “Austin, Texas?”
“That’s what I said, yeah. Come on. Get rid of the knife and let go of her. She knows we can stop her anytime we want, don’t you, sweetheart?”
Dawn flashed him a look that almost killed him but it didn’t matter. Saving her was all that counted. Harman’s mouth tightened but he sheathed his knife and thrust Dawn aside. She stumbled against Gray, who caught her wrist. She lifted her eyes to his and he thought his heart would break. She was pale, except for two bright spots of color on her cheeks. Tears clung to her lashes.
“You son of a bitch,” she said, and spat into his face.
“Remember what I told you once?” he said softly. “This scene belongs to us. We get to write it any way we want.”
“What scene?” Harman demanded. “What’re you talking about?”
“I’m just reminding the lady of what I expect. The last thing a man wants to deal with is Wonder Woman.”
“Wonder What?”
“Wonder Woman,” Gray said softly.
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Harman said sharply.
Gray waited, hardly breathing, his fingers hard on Dawn’s wrist. Slowly he saw something changing in the blue depths of her eyes.
“Gray?” she whispered, and he smiled, just for her.
“Yes, baby,” he said softly, and he pushed her aside and launched himself at her husband.
Harman stumbled back. The men fell to the ground, rolling over and over, grunting as they exchanged blows. Harman was bigger and heavier but Gray had the advantage of surprise and a hot, deadly rage. He pounded his fists into the other man’s gut, into his face. Still, gradually, Harman’s size began to tell. He shoved Gray down on his back, knelt astride him and pulled out his knife. Dawn screamed and flew toward the men. She beat her fists on her husband’s shoulders but he brushed her away as if she were a fly.
“I’ll deal with you next,” he panted, “after I finish off this son of a—” A horn blared. Harman jerked around. An SUV was racing toward them, clouds of dust billowing out behind it. He looked back at Gray. “Plenty of time to do what I’ve dreamed of doin’,” he said, his lips peeled back in a thin smile as he lifted the knife, but now the scream of police sirens rose above the sound of the horn.
Harman looked over his shoulder again. Cars were speeding toward them, fanned out across the desert sand. “Son of a bitch,” he yelled. He turned back to Gray and brought the knife down, but Gray had taken advantage of the moment and as Harman struck, as Dawn’s shrill cry rose into the air, he rolled to his side.
The blade bit into the sand. Harman cursed, jumped up, ran to his truck and took off with the vehicles in hot pursuit.
“Gray,” Dawn sobbed. “Oh, Gray—”
Gray scrambled to his feet and opened his arms to the woman he loved. She flew into them, as she had the first night they’d made love.
“Did he hurt you? Are you—”
Gray hugged her to his heart. “I’m fine.”
“Oh God, I thought he was going to kill you!”
“Sweetheart. You have to know I didn’t mean what I said to Harman. I’ll explain every—” She kissed him, and he could taste her tears and maybe even his own. “I love you,” he said, clasping her face in his hands. “Dawn? Do you hear me? I love you. I’ll always—”
A booming crash shook the earth. Dawn and Gray swung around. In the distance, they could see Dan Coyle’s men and the police piling out of their cars. They’d stopped at the rim of the mesa that ran behind Rocking Horse Ranch. Another sound rocked the ground beneath their feet. Flames shot up from the canyon.
“Gray?” Dawn said. She looked from the mesa to him, and he knew the instant she realized what had happened. “Oh God! Harman drove over the edge…”
Gray cupped her head and brought it to his shoulder. She wept as he held her. Gradually her sobs died away and he drew back, just enough so he could tilt her face to his.
“It’s over,” he said softly.
She nodded, though tears still glittered in her eyes. “I’m not crying for him. Is that wrong? I just can’t. I know I should but—”
“The hell you should,” Gray said fiercely. “He doesn’t deserve anybody’s tears, sweetheart, certainly not yours.”
“I’m crying for—I guess for the years lost. For the terrible waste.”
Gray took out his handkerchief, gently wiped Dawn’s eyes. “Don’t think about that. Think about what’s ahead. You. Me.” He smiled. “And a kid named Tommy. I think it’s time I met him.”
Dawn made a sound that was half laugh, half sob. “He’s a nice little boy. I think you’ll like him.”
“He’s yours, baby. How could I not like him?” He smiled. “I just hope he likes me. I figure it would help if a kid liked the guy who intends to marry his mom.”
“I love you,” she said. “I love you…”
Dawn grabbed Gray’s face, pulled it down to hers and kissed him. Then, arms around each other, they walked away from the past and toward the future.
EPILOGUE
JONAS BARON looked past his wife’s shoulder, at the mirrored wall in their dressing room, and made a grumpy face.
“I don’t see why a man’s got to dress up like a penguin to attend a wedding.”<
br />
“Hold still, Jonas, or this bow tie’s going to… There.” Marta beamed, took a step back and regarded her husband with admiration. “The tie’s perfect, and so are you. You’re still the handsomest man ever!”
“Methuselah in a cummerbund,” he snorted, but a smile tugged at his mouth. “You look pretty good yourself. What do you call that color? I know it can’t be somethin’ as simple as red.”
“It’s called poppy.” Marta laughed as she twirled before him, then smoothed down the skirt of her silk and chiffon dress. “And you’re right. If they called it `red,’ nobody would buy it.” Her smile tilted as she looked up at her husband. “You did remember to take your medicine, didn’t you?”
“Yes ma’am, I did.”
“Because you know what your doctors said, darling. That wonderful new transplant treatment cured your leukemia but you need to take those pills every—”
“Marta,” Jonas said, in a voice so gentle none of his sons would have recognized it, “I’m old and sometimes I’m foolish, but the one thing I ain’t is in any particular rush to meet my maker.” He gave her a tender kiss. “Now, come on, gorgeous. Let’s go show the younger generation a thing or two. What’s the sense in havin’ Gray’s wedding at Espada if we don’t get out and enjoy it?”
Marta smiled. “Sounds like a good idea.” She took her husband’s arm, then held back. “Jonas? I’m glad you told me why you sent Graham to find Dawn.”
“Yeah, so’m I. I s’pose I should have said somethin’ right away but I wanted to be sure first. You understand, don’t you?”
“Of course.” Marta brushed a bit of lint from his tuxedo jacket. “Are you very disappointed?” she said softly.
“That Dawn isn’t my granddaughter?” Jonas smiled. “No. Tell you the truth, I’m kind of relieved. When it turned out that Orianna—Dawn’s mama—was born in August ‘52—”
“Meaning that Nora Lincoln was almost two months pregnant when you and she became lovers.”
“Yeah.” Jonas sighed. “When Dawn told me her mama’s birthday, it was like somebody took a big rock off my chest. I felt guilty as sin, thinkin’ I’d abandoned a woman carryin’ my child.”
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