by B. J Daniels
As she did, Cassidy realized she’d never felt as safe as she did in Jack’s arms.
* * *
RUSSELL LISTENED TO the sheriff leave and then the breeze in the trees outside his window. The moon had come up and now cast the night in gold. What a waste of a beautiful summer night, he thought as he listened to Buck cuss first the sheriff and then the crazy doctor. He’d picked up his drink and drained it and was now pouring himself another.
“You might not want to—” But Buck downed it before he could tell him that getting picked up driving half-drunk would only make matters worse.
“You stay away from Sarah,” Buck said, slamming down his glass and pointing a warning finger in Russell’s direction.
He had to laugh as he got up from his chair. “Seriously? After you came out here asking for my help?” He and Buck weren’t that different in size and stature. As angry as he was, Russell knew he could take the senator in a fair fight. But right now he didn’t want to fight fair.
Sarah was in trouble, just as he’d known she was the moment he laid eyes on her. Unfortunately, she was still in love with this fool. Worse, she’d let Dr. Venable back into her life. What was she thinking?
“You’re not good for her,” Buck was saying. “You confuse her.”
“Or maybe she knows that marrying you again is a mistake.”
Buck glared at him and took a threatening step toward him.
Bring it on, Russell thought. He’d never been a brawler even in his youth. He knew how foolhardy it would be to take it up at his age, but he clenched his fists anyway and took a step toward the man. He’d been wanting to hit Buck for a long time.
At the sound of a car engine, they both froze and then exchanged a glance.
“You don’t think...” Buck said and turned toward the door at the sound of someone roaring up, car door slamming and then the stomp of footfalls on the porch.
Russell flinched at the loud banging on the door. Buck was closer to it. “You might want to open it. Or not.”
The senator stepped over and swung the door open. “Sarah? What are you doing here?”
“I got Russell’s text.” She looked mad enough to chew nails.
“You texted her?” Buck demanded.
Russell shrugged. “I thought she might want to know why her ears were burning.”
“What’s this about?” she demanded. “He said the two of you were having a...meeting about me?”
“You and Dr. Ralph Venable,” Russell said.
Her gaze shot to him and her mad seemed to drain out of her. She looked down at the floor for a moment. Looking up finally, she said, “Neither of you could possibly understand what I’ve been going through. Dr. Venable is giving me back my memory.” Her gaze shifted from Russell to Buck and back again. “You both have to trust me.”
“Sarah—”
“She’s right,” Russell said, interrupting Buck. “If you love her, you have no other choice.”
Sarah gave him a grateful look, then turned to Buck. “I know what I’m doing.”
The senator shook his head and looked around for his Stetson. His movements were those of a man who’d had too much to drink.
Russell hadn’t moved. As Sarah’s shoulders slumped and tears bloomed in her blue eyes, he started to step to her.
But she held up her hand to stop him. “Please don’t.” Her gaze met his. “I can’t explain, but I don’t have a choice.”
He nodded. “I’m here if you need me.”
Her tears spilled over her cheeks. Her smile broke his heart. “I’m counting on that.”
Buck found his hat and slapped it down on his head angrily. “Great. Well, let me know where I fit into all this. If I even do.” He headed for the door.
“You aren’t driving,” she said after Buck. “We’ll pick up his rig in the morning,” she added over her shoulder as she followed Buck out, leaving Russell alone with his unbearable pain.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
SHERIFF FRANK CURRY had made the trip up to the state mental hospital so many times he swore he could do it blindfolded. He thought of all the other times he’d driven up here, hoping and praying that Tiffany would be better.
He’d believed back then that she was his flesh and blood. Had he really thought that whatever she had inherited from him could combat the evil genes her mother had given her?
For years he’d followed the debates on nature versus nurture. In his ex-wife Pam’s case, Tiffany had gotten not only her mother’s “crazy” genes, but also she’d been brainwashed in hatred. He still had dreams of locking his big hands around Pam’s throat and crushing the life out of her.
Unfortunately, someone else had gotten to her before he had. It had saved him a prison sentence, but left him feeling...helpless. He hadn’t been able to stop Pam. Nor had he been able to help Tiffany.
It had been strange the day he realized Tiffany wasn’t even his. There’d been that pure, hot rush of fury against her and her mother, quickly followed by a drowning sense of relief. Tiffany wasn’t his problem anymore.
But he’d only been kidding himself. The young girl had been programmed to hate him, hell, to kill him. How could he simply wash his hands of her and walk away knowing that if she ever got out, she’d come after him and Lynette?
Tiffany blamed him for hurting her mother. It wasn’t anything he’d done intentionally. When Frank had married her, he hadn’t realized that Pam had been an empty well of need, which he’d done his best to fill with love. But it had never been enough. She’d grown to hate him, blaming his love for Lynette as the reason for their failed marriage.
It was true. A part of him had still been in love with Lynette. But Lynette had married Bob Benton. He had married Pam. He had wanted children, but Pam kept putting him off. At some point, he knew it was never going to work for either of them. They’d divorced.
He’d had no idea that she was pregnant at the time—just not with his baby. Of course, he hadn’t found that out until recently. He hadn’t known Tiffany existed before she’d turned up at his ranch one day. He’d been overjoyed to hear that he had a daughter—even a teenaged one. He had been shocked that Pam had kept something like this from him, though. He had wanted to wring Pam’s neck for keeping the girl from him.
Then Tiffany had tried to kill him and many months later he’d found out that she wasn’t even his blood and genes. The day he’d found out, he’d seen Tiffany with her real father at the mental hospital—and she’d seen him. She’d given him that pleased, hateful smile of hers. He hadn’t even needed to check the DNA test that he’d refused to open before that. But he had opened it, confirming what he then knew was true. Tiffany and her mother had both lied to him.
He’d thought he would never return to the hospital. He’d told himself he was through with her forever. That the hell she and her mother had put him through was over.
Now as he parked in the lot outside the mental hospital, he knew he’d only been deluding himself. Even though she wasn’t his daughter, Tiffany still had a hold over him. Her hatred was like a noose around his neck. She wanted him dead. He could probably live with that, but she also wanted Lynette dead. For that reason alone, he had to make sure this crazed young woman never saw the light of day beyond these walls.
* * *
CASSIDY FOUND JACK standing out on the porch looking off into the distance. At the sound of her joining him, he turned to smile.
“How are you this morning?” he asked.
“Better than I was last night. I’m sorry—”
“No apologies. We’ve all had nightmares.” He looked as if he were living one right now.
“Were you thinking about your father?”
He turned back to the view. “It’s hard not to.” Glancing over at her as she joined him at the rail, he
said, “What about you?”
“Am I still determined to see my mother?” She nodded. “If she’s behind my abduction, then I guess I’ll know quickly enough. I was thinking it might be safer if I went alone.”
He shook his head. “Not safer for you. Sorry, but there isn’t a chance that I’m letting you face her alone,” Jack said and touched the pistol tucked into the waistband of his jeans. “Remember? We’re in this together.” She started to open her mouth to protest, but he stopped her. “I’m not letting you out of my sight until this is over.”
“This might not be over until my father is elected president.”
“I guess you’d better get used to having me around, then.” He turned back to the house. “I made coffee. Want some? Also, I make the best French toast you’ve ever tasted.”
She smiled and followed him back into the house. A gun-toting, rugged maverick who also cooked. “How did I get so lucky?” she joked as she poured them each a cup of coffee and watched as he went to work on the French toast.
Taking a chair at the table, she marveled at how normal this all felt. She’d never played house with any man, but as the old ranch house was quickly suffused with the wonderful scents of frying bacon and sizzling French toast, she thought she could. With the right man.
Jack was singing a country song along with the music on the radio and doing a little Texas two-step as he cooked. She knew the song and began to sing along. His face lit up and he turned, pancake flipper in hand, to grab her hand and pull her into his arms. As they danced a few steps, she fought the irresistible desire to run her fingers through his hair and to pull him down into a kiss. To forget breakfast, forget the reason they were here, to forget everything and go back to bed.
He looked down into her face. She saw desire spark in his blue eyes. A tremor moved through her. His gaze moved from her eyes to her lips. She felt them part as if preparing for his kiss. Her eyes started to close as she relished the memory of his last kiss.
“Got to save your bacon,” he said as he let go of her.
The kitchen instantly felt colder.
“Want to set the table?” he asked, his back to her.
She didn’t want him saving her bacon, so to speak. She wanted to lie in his arms again. She wanted him to make love to her.
But he’d turned her down last night. He’d said the timing was all wrong. Cassidy knew he was right. But under the circumstances, she doubted the timing would ever be right.
Her body ached, her eyes burning with unshed tears. She yearned to complete this connection she felt between them. It would be so easy to lose herself in his big, strong, solid body. But was that what he was afraid of? That she was only trying to do anything but think about what was happening to them? Was that why he hadn’t made love to her last night? Why he was now busying himself with breakfast instead of taking her upstairs?
“Jack—”
“I’ve been thinking,” he said as he pulled down a plate, slid two strips of bacon and three thick slices of French toast onto it. He turned to hand it to her. Their eyes met. He slowly shook his head as if fighting his own need to lose himself in her.
She saw the determination in all that blue. She took the plate and watched him fill another one before he joined her at the table.
“We need to go see your mother,” he said. “But first we need to know everything we can about The Prophecy. We need to be as prepared as possible so we know what we’re walking into.”
* * *
“WHAT’S GOING ON?” Kate French asked as she slid into the booth across from Lynette “Nettie” Curry early the next morning. The Branding Iron Cafe was fairly quiet this weekday morning since it was still early. Several couples were sitting in front of the window. Nettie didn’t recognize them and wondered if they’d spent the night at the hotel next door.
The Beartooth Hotel had finally opened after months of construction to restore it. Nettie had been watching the progress, anxious for the big open house that was planned. It would be the biggest event that the small old mining town had seen in a hundred years, she thought.
“Nettie?”
She focused on the pregnant owner of the cafe. Kate had given birth to a baby girl and was now pregnant with twin boys. She glowed with happiness except when one of them would give her a swift kick.
“I asked you what was going on,” Kate repeated. “I’ve never seen you this distracted.” She was eyeing her quizzically. “It isn’t like you not to share whatever it is. Unless... Is it Frank?”
Nettie shook her head, only a little amused that she was still thought of as the worst gossip in the county. Mabel Murphy had taken over that title and then some.
“I’ve just had a lot on my mind, that’s all,” she said and saw at once that Kate wasn’t going to let her off that easily. “I suppose you heard about the ring Buck got Sarah?” Kate nodded. “There is talk of a quickie wedding.”
“What’s the hurry?”
“Apparently, Buck wants to be married right away so she can join him on the campaign trail.”
Kate raised a brow. “Do you think voters will like that? How long has if been since his wife was killed?”
“Almost a year.” For a moment, Nettie watched her friend gently caress her protruding stomach. Nettie had never gotten to feel what it was like to have a baby, let alone two, growing inside her. So many times she wished that she had married Frank back when they were young. They would have had children, probably a half dozen, then Frank wouldn’t spend so much time with his birds and she would... Nettie felt tears burn her eyes.
Kate looked up as if sensing her distress and reached across the table to take her hand. Theirs was an odd friendship because of their age difference and also because when Kate had first come to town, Nettie had been convinced the woman had a secret. Of course, she hadn’t sat still until she’d learned what it was.
“Talk to me,” Kate said quietly.
Nettie cleared her throat. “The mental hospital called to say that Tiffany needed to speak with Frank. I didn’t want him to go. I just have this...bad feeling.” She looked up into Kate’s sympathetic gaze. “He said he was done with Tiffany when he found out that she’d been in on the scam to make him believe she was his daughter.”
“He still feels guilty because of his evil ex-wife, Pam,” Kate said with a shake of her head as she let go of Nettie’s hand to cut herself a piece of the homemade cinnamon roll they’d been sharing.
“Pam poisoned Tiffany against him to get revenge so he feels responsible for what the young woman has become.”
“Revenge is one thing. Pam programmed Tiffany to kill Frank. That’s a whole different level of retribution.”
“Tiffany is as crazy as her mother and that’s what scares me,” Nettie said, shaking her head when Kate offered her a buttered bite of roll. “She’s so manipulative, just like Pam was.”
“You don’t know what she wants?”
Nettie shook her head. “She wouldn’t tell Frank. I suspect it has something to do with her getting out of the mental hospital.”
“That can’t happen, can it?” Kate asked in horror.
“If a doctor says she’s competent to stand trial, they might let her out until her trial date.”
Kate shook her head, eyes wide with fear. “But if she gets out...”
“She would come after Frank and me. Tiffany has already said she would kill us both. Pam blamed all her misery on me and Frank, and now her daughter does, too.”
Kate shuddered and took a sip of her coffee before she spoke. “Did you ask...?” She indicated Nettie’s purse.
Nettie shuddered as she thought of the pendulum. She wished she’d never bought the darned thing. It had been on impulse after she’d learned that Sarah Johnson Hamilton had a pendulum tattooed on her butt.
Curious, she’d
ordered one and, after reading the directions, had begun to ask it questions. The astonishing thing was that it was always right.
She lowered her voice as she leaned toward her friend. “It said Frank’s in danger. I couldn’t bring myself to ask if he... I have to believe that he’ll be all right. He came home last night and announced he was going to drive up to the mental hospital today. He says he knows what Tiffany’s capable of, but I’m afraid he’ll underestimate her and...” She caught her breath. “If she got the chance, she would kill him right there in the hospital and we all remember that she managed to get hold of those scissors that time and cut most of her hair off—”
“Frank will be fine,” Kate said, putting a hand on her arm. “He knows to be careful. You can’t let yourself worry. Frank is trained for this.”
Nettie took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Tears stung her eyes. “That’s just it, I’m terrified of what Frank might do. He told me last night that he would never let Tiffany hurt me, no matter what he had to do.”
* * *
TO THE SHERIFF’S SURPRISE, Tiffany was waiting for him in the visiting room. All the other times Frank had driven up to see her, she’d made him wait. It was another way of controlling him.
Her blond hair was even longer than it had been before that incident when she hacked it all off with a pair of scissors she’d gotten her hands on.
“How did she get scissors?” he’d demanded of the doctor overseeing her care. But he’d known. Tiffany was resourceful. Resourceful with no compassion for other people. That’s why she’d broken out of the place once—injuring two staff in her attempt—before she was caught.
She rose, meeting his gaze with a blue-eyed one he’d once thought was so like his own. One of the reasons she was able to fool people was her innocent face. She was slight in build, her blond hair so light it fell in wisps around her heart-shaped face.
“I’m surprised you came,” she said and gave him a tentative smile.
“No, you’re not.” He noticed that there was an orderly standing near a door on the other side of the room. At least they were smart enough to know that Tiffany shouldn’t be left alone in a room with him.