by Geri Krotow
He hadn’t mentioned this new attempt at a buyout to her, after promising to keep her informed and appraised of the situation. They were supposed to be partners in all of this; he’d promised. A horrible twist in her gut that had nothing to do with morning sickness, pregnancy or nerves had her clutching the horn of her saddle as she struggled to stay calm and keep herself from getting the baby riled up.
Betrayal. It could be her hormones, she knew. Or was she finally listening to the small voice she should have stuck with from the start of their relationship?
How desperate had she been when she realized she was pregnant? She knew she shouldn’t trust a man who, despite billions of dollars, impregnated her the very first time they were together. A man who continued to seduce her right to the altar and since.
No more. Halle was a Ford, and Alastair was on her Texas turf. In her neck of the woods, men kept their word or were held accountable.
Time for a reckoning.
* * *
“You’re fired, Jameson. As is your entire staff. Clear out.” Alastair disconnected the video conference with Glasgow and immediately contacted his security divisions in London and Hong Kong to ensure the entire body of the investment department were removed from Clyde Whiskey. He’d locked their access to the company systems before he made the axe-landing call, following the same protocol he’d used since growing Clyde Whiskey to its current size.
A size that was cut by two-thirds, according to the stock markets. He answered a call from his lawyer, working out the details of gaining his stock back from the shell corporation.
His lead attorney had ugly news, but promised to keep fighting for the company. Of course he did; his entire life’s savings, and his family’s, depended upon it.
A loud slam followed by hurried footsteps had him standing and moving toward the office door. But not before Halle beat him to it, standing in the home office in front of him.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Wild hair, a breathless accusation.
“Tell you what?” Just in case she didn’t know yet, he’d have her sit down first.
“Just stop it with the gallant Scotsman BS! You lied about telling me of any further connection to a person tied to Livia Colton. The woman who murdered my father!” Her hands were on her hips, her cheeks had spots as big as cottage roses and her eyes were narrowed. On him.
“Do you tell me every detail of every trail tour you’ve planned? And the news just broke. I had to talk to my securities people. I fired the entire Glasgow staff just now.”
“You did?” She paused. “This is different than my trail tour business, Alastair. A lot.”
“I thought you were tending to the horses.”
“I was riding.”
“By yourself?”
“Don’t look so put out about it. I wasn’t alone—Will was with me. I know my business, which is riding horses. And I believed that you’re an expert at yours.”
“If you believe that, then you have to trust me that I know what I’m doing.” It grated that she wasn’t giving him the benefit of the doubt, after all they’d been through.
“How can I trust you, Alastair? How? You manipulated me into marrying you, promised to help me get Bluewood back on its feet. And I told you explicitly why I can’t have anything to do with anyone who was in cahoots with Livia Colton. She killed my father, Alastair. What part of that don’t you get?”
“Halle, I’m trying to catch this person at their own game.”
She yanked off her worn leather gloves and ran her fingers through her tousled hair. Her eyes sparked and he wished it were with desire. Because no matter how much hate she threw at him, he wanted her more than ever. “Alastair, there are many ways to capture a criminal. I don’t think this is the way you want to do this. I know it isn’t. I told you how evil and self-serving she was. Anyone who did business with her when she was alive would be just as bad. Worse. You know the Midas touch myth? Well, around Shadow Creek, it was the Livia Colton Touch, except hers turned everything to death. She was a living, breathing witch with poison in her blood.”
“You have to trust me, Halle. I have the best people on the planet working this. I’ve tightened the noose on this criminal.”
“Really, Alastair?” She let out a brief gasp of snide laughter. “How freaking stupid do you think I am? Do you think all I know about is how to dress a horse, run a trail tour, balance the books?” She took her phone out of her pocket and after a few taps started reading.
“From today’s Financial Times:
“Alastair Buchanan’s brilliance loses some of its luster as he executes the equivalent of Tchaikovsky’s swan dance with an anonymous buyer known only as SullaXS. The assumed corporation has links to a former troublemaker of Shadow Creek, Texas, an area outside of Austin, Texas. Livia Colton, presumed dead after driving drunk and causing an accident that left a local man dead, may have survived, judging by her anonymous representative’s actions. If she’s still alive, Livia Colton is benefitting from dipping into the Clyde Whiskey fortune, to the tune of two-thirds of the company’s holdings. It is pretty clear that while not public yet, the identity of the buyer will be confirmed when Alastair Buchanan signs a merger with SullaXS. Why else would such a brilliant captain of industry allow an unknown to gobble up 68 percent of his company’s shares? Until now the Buchanan family has held on to at least fifty percent of Clyde Whiskey shares, but faces an almost definite takeover.”
She turned the screen of the phone around so that he could see it. “Hard to deny it now, isn’t it?”
“Damn it, Halle, this is just some crackpot reporter thinking he’s got it all figured out. You’ll see, as soon as it works out, that SullaXS has nothing. I’ll get my holdings back, and they’ll be in jail.” He couldn’t tell her everything, not yet. Not until the bastards who’d helped sell stock to this loser were arrested.
“Oh, Alastair. You don’t get it.” Disappointment crept in on the edges of her furious expression. “Even if you’re telling the truth, which I have no way of knowing, you didn’t involve me in this decision. I don’t give an armadillo’s behind about your business, except when it came to this person who’s obviously become part of your company. How do I know if you’ve been honest about the security breaches? Were those manufactured events to get me back here? Did you think that if I was back at Bluewood I’d not have the time or inclination to pay attention to what you were doing, against my best wishes? We agreed to be partners, to raise our child together.” She bowed her head for a moment before raising it to look him square in the eye. “It’s over, Alastair. If we can’t even be partners in business, I don’t see how we’re going to raise a child together.”
She turned and he reached for her but she slipped away too quickly and was out the front door of the house as he closed the gap between them and stopped on the porch. Her leg swung up and over Elvis as she got on her gelding and turned back to him one last time.
“Where’s Will?” He heard the desperation in his voice.
“I sent him home. I’m not going anywhere. But you are.” She looked so regal astride Elvis, the soft rounding of her belly accentuating her femininity.
“Please, Halle. Let me help you stable Elvis. We can talk this out.”
“Get out. You have thirty minutes.” She turned Elvis toward the paddock and dug in her heels.
“Wait!” He ran toward her and as the dirt raised puffs from Elvis’s hooves he realized how futile chasing her was. A wave of relief washed over him when Halle guided Elvis into the paddock and began to circle him, keeping a slow and sedate pace. He knew her insides were fuming and she no doubt wanted to run Elvis long and hard, but Halle was a mother who’d protect her unborn child at any cost. At least she was safe in the fenced area. Hopefully she’d reconsider as she cooled Elvis. He’d never seen her so angry, though.
He needed to do something for
her that proved he wasn’t ever going to do anything to hurt her or their child. The problem was that he didn’t want to admit what he knew was the one thing that would make Halle see that he was not a man who’d ever harm her.
He’d only started to accept it himself. He was in love with Halle Ford.
* * *
How stupid could they be? As he watched the bitch circle the paddock with that pretty boy horse, he couldn’t believe that Buchanan would leave her alone and go back into the house. The security guards were posted at their usual places and sure, cameras were all over the property. But she’d waved off that sack of rocks bodyguard, and nothing was left to stop him from going in and taking her. The horse would be easy to take out, but he wouldn’t have the pleasure of seeing it die as he had the steer. That had been messy but real fun. It reminded him of when he was a boy and just learning how to kill animals in the most exciting ways. Long and slow was his preferred method, but the horse might have to be put down quick, so that he could nab the prize for his boss. Halle Ford’s land was his target, along with her husband’s company, but he had to be sure to keep her alive long enough to get what he wanted. And that baby she was carrying. Most of it was out in the press and on the internet but he’d caught all he’d needed by capturing her wireless signals and reading her emails. Listening to her phone calls was over, though, thanks to that bastard Buchanan. He’d shut down all open communication on Bluewood. Every phone call was encrypted, so he couldn’t even monitor her day-to-day business calls.
No matter. He’d get her, and when he and his employer were done they’d both be all the richer, living the good life on a beach far away. Halle Ford would be dead, and Buchanan would run back to Scotland with his tail between his pale-as-a-rattler’s-belly legs.
* * *
Halle wanted to shout, scream and sob her way to peace of mind. As Elvis cooled down she tried to allow his gait to soothe her, to take away the angst her row with Alastair stirred up.
Alastair. He was the mysterious stranger who’d appeared on her ranch less than five months ago, but now was the father of her child and her husband. Her husband.
She thought of her father’s recollections of her mother and their relationship. He’d said it had been so stormy at times, so crazy, but they’d always made up and made sure to go to bed each night at peace with one another.
Halle didn’t want peace. She wanted justice. Justice for Ernie’s terrible slaughter, most likely killed by the same man who’d stalked her to Scotland. Justice for the risk her unborn child had been exposed to. But most of all, justice for her father’s untimely, criminal death. As she’d learned almost a year ago there was no justice, no vengeance possible, when the father she’d loved and idolized so much had been killed by a woman who was now dead.
Was she?
The lingering doubts over Livia Colton being alive were making her crazy. If only her body had been found, this wouldn’t be an issue. Of course, the fact that she might be alive and causing Alastair all this trouble would still need to be dealt with.
Elvis let out a snort as his lungs sucked in oxygen for his tired muscles, and she joined him as she tried in vain to practice the slow and steady breathing she’d read about for childbirth. She and Alastair were due to start the classes next week. She’d forgone the opportunity for Lamaze when she’d read about the Bradley method, as she was more of an internal-thought-process gal. She couldn’t see herself screaming with each labor spasm, gasping for breath. But the idea of breathing like she’d done in her yoga practice when she’d lived in Austin had appealed to her. No matter how crazy her workload at the marketing agency had been, the long, sweaty sessions in the darkened, candlelit studio had eased her stress and given her hope.
She halted Elvis with a solid backward pull on the reins and dismounted. Softly leading him to the barn, she murmured to the intelligent animal, stroking his skin.
“You get it, don’t you, sweet boy?” His neck was so smooth and the muscles rippled under her hands as he strained to reach back to her with his muzzle.
“Here you go, sweetie.” She kissed him just above his nostrils and was rewarded with his hot, grass-sweet breath blowing against her chilled cheeks, warming her soul. Elvis knew her. And accepted her, unconditionally.
It was a gentle reminder of what she felt for Alastair. They shared a raw, primal bond and it wasn’t because of the baby. Or because of the incendiary sexual chemistry that she knew would have been explored for a long time to come if she hadn’t just blown everything with her dang temper. Hadn’t her father always cautioned that she’d one day pay for her tantrums, her quickness to harshly judge those she cared for?
After she’d walked him enough to finish his cooldown, Elvis whinnied and nudged her shoulder with his head. Not enough to knock her over but enough to get her attention.
“What, boy? Do you feel it, too? Yeah, I’m a big hot mess.” She wrapped her arms around the gelding’s neck, wishing she were five years old and it was Chancellor Ford she was hugging, that her father could tell her how to fix things with Alastair. That her problems were small enough to be consoled by a horse. “Let’s get you into your stable.” She might have to ask Charlie to finish with the brushing and feeding of Elvis as she had a strong desire to get back to the house and talk to Alastair. No matter how awful they’d both been to each other. If she took long enough to figure out why, she’d have to accept that she was in love with Alastair. Somehow during the past months he’d gone from being the Scottish billionaire who wanted a private tour of Bluewood Ranch to her baby’s father, to her husband, to the man she loved more than life itself.
The same amount of time it’d taken her to destroy their relationship. “Oh, Elvis, what am I going to do?” Apologizing might be a first step. As soon as she had Elvis settled for the night.
Lost in her self-created misery, she didn’t hear the footsteps until they were upon her. At Elvis’s insisting nudge she whirled around to face the interloper. Her heart prayed it was Alastair as her intuition and brain told her otherwise.
“Don’t move and you won’t get hurt.” The grizzled man in a too-new cowboy hat stood in front of her, half a foot shorter than her, but broad and muscular. Like a thug.
“Brannigan James? What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Ah, so you remember me. I didn’t think the princess would recall all the work I did around here. Work that’s gone to pot, I see. You’ll never be half the rancher your daddy was. But then again, he was stupid enough to get himself killed, now, wasn’t he?”
The spiritual equivalent of bile made her vision go hazy around the edges and she ignored the gun the bastard pointed at her. “I have to put my horse away. Then we’ll talk.”
“Make it fast or I’ll kill your horse. We don’t want your new husband coming out here, do we? I’d hate to hurt his pretty Scottish face.”
She put Elvis in his stall and started to brush him down. Her legs shook but her hands were steady, soothing the horse with practiced movements. Keep him talking.
“What do you think you’re going to get by pointing that gun at me? You realize there are security cameras and guards all over Bluewood. You’ve already tripped an alarm, I’m sure.”
“Shut the hell up. I take care of anyone and anything that gets in my way. If you want to live and keep your baby safe, you’ll put that horse up quick and come with me. I don’t want to hurt you but I will. It’s time the Fords paid for the slander they’ve caused the Coltons. Your hubby’s going to pay, too, for thinking he can come to Shadow Creek and take it over.”
As she listened to his rants and raves, she grabbed a small crowbar that hung on the wall and shoved it into her boot, masking her motion with brushing Elvis’s hindquarters, out of Brannigan’s direct line of sight. The slow-witted crook thought she was the idiot?
“The Coltons? They’re all my friends.” A
chill of frightening proportion raced up and down her spine as she faced the wall, away from the gun that could rip its lethal bullet through her with no warning. The only Colton who believed she or her father had harmed their name was dead. Washed away in a flash flood while her father’s bloodstains marred the Shadow Creek road.
Halle acknowledged the ugliest of possibilities. That it wasn’t her pregnancy hormones or her revenge fantasies.
Livia Colton might still be alive.
Chapter 20
Alastair forced himself to remain in the house at his laptop, fighting every instinct to go out to the barn and talk to Halle while she finished walking and stabled Elvis. He’d known her long enough to know when she needed space.
An unwelcome alarm sounded from his phone and over the house system he’d had installed as soon as they arrived back in Texas. The guard from the ranch entry point came up on the laptop.
“What’s happened?” He stood, taking the laptop with him to where his jacket hung.
“Boss, the security camera in sector three was disabled five minutes ago, and the camera in the stable has been either turned off or covered with something.”
“And you’re telling me this now? Where are the guards?” He shoved into his boots, grabbed his gloves from his jacket pocket.
“We didn’t confirm it until ten seconds ago. I’ve got five officers fanning out over the ranch from the paddock out to the trails, and two headed for the stable.”
Halle.
“I’m headed to the stable.”
“Sir, it’s not your job.”
“My wife is there!”
Alastair didn’t waste time explaining. He grabbed the rifle Halle had agreed he could keep by the front door. He slowly crept onto the porch, his focus on the stables.
Then he spotted the barn structure lit up inside like the Fourth of July, its bright overhead lights spilling their warmth into the late fall darkness. With no evidence of people moving about inside or out, his heart slammed into overdrive. He ran for the barn, instinct pushing him to get there, get to Halle.