THE HOMECOMING

by Maggie Shayne

  She danced closer to him, and closer still. He reached out, caught the edge of the shirt in one hand. She smiled at him, and he yanked it away. And then he looked his fill as she danced still more. He got to his feet, reached out and caught her waist in his hands. And then he pulled her tight to him, and he kissed her long and deeply. His hands could touch every part of her now, and they did. Her back, her buttocks, her thighs. He rubbed and caressed her as he probed her mouth with his tongue. Her hands tugged on his shorts until they dropped to the ground and he stepped out of them, kicked them aside.

  Luke scooped Jasmine up off her feet and carried her to a spot beneath the wide branches of an oak tree, and then he laid her down and kissed her from her head to her toes and back again. He nursed at her breasts until she pulled his hair, and then he lingered there longer. She arched against his hand when he slid it toward her center, and so he touched her there, and then more deeply. The way she moved in his arms, beneath his touch, it seemed to Luke as if she were dancing still. And finally he lowered his body over hers and slid himself inside her.

  She closed her eyes, and she whispered his name. She was incredible. The scent of her hair, of her body—he was completely surrounded in her, drowning in her, and relishing every bit of it.

  Luke took his time. He made love to Jasmine more tenderly and more thoroughly than he'd ever made love before. He made her tremble all over, made her cry his name out loud, made her contort her beautiful face in anguished ecstasy. And then he held her tenderly, and he kissed her face.

  And she said, "Thank you, Luke."

  He lifted his brows, holding her closer, wishing for a blanket as the heat of passion slowly cooled and he felt the chill of night's kiss raising goose bumps on his skin. "The pleasure was all mine, lady."

  "Not for that," she said with a little laugh. "For all you've done for Bax and me. And for the promise you made." She rolled toward him and gently brushed a hand through his hair. "I hope you realize now how much it's all meant to me. I don't do this sort of thing very often."

  Luke lay very still, staring hard at her. "What?"

  She smiled softly, rolled onto her back and sat up, rubbing her arms. "It's getting cold. Let's go inside." Looking around, she spotted her white shirt and bounced easily to her feet to pick it up, pull it on.

  "In a minute," he said. "First … tell me what you meant by that."

  "By what?" She was fastening buttons now. One, then the next.

  "By what you just said. That you were grateful to me—Jasmine, is that what this was all about? You showing gratitude? You thanking me for something?"

  "Only partly." She blinked and stared at him. "I wouldn't have made love to you just out of gratitude," she told him, coming closer. "I wanted you. You wanted me. I like you. You like me. And I owed you … something special. Something as special as what you've done for me and Bax." She shrugged. "It just … felt like the right thing to do."

  Luke lowered his head. He drew a breath, but for some reason his chest hurt. His throat was tight. He'd thought … he'd thought … hell, he didn't even want to think about what he'd thought. He was an idiot.

  "Luke?" She was right in front of him, now, wearing that shirt and nothing else, one hand on his cheek. "Are you mad at me?"

  "Of course I'm not mad at you."

  "Then what's wrong?"

  He lifted his head and looked into her deep, wary eyes. She was like a wild thing. So untrusting, so afraid. Sex didn't mean love, because sex was a commodity and love was a weakness. She'd repaid him with sex. But she wasn't going to risk her heart on anything more.

  And how could he blame her when, up until five minutes ago, he'd been more or less oblivious to his own feelings?

  My God, he loved her. But if he said so, she would run like a doe from the archer. He licked his lips. "Nothing's wrong, Jasmine. Just … next time you think you owe me something, tell me first, okay?"

  "You telling me you didn't like my method of payback?" She slid her hands up his chest and pressed a kiss to his mouth.

  "Oh, I liked it fine," he whispered. Then he caught hold of himself, cleared his throat. "But I'd have liked it better if it had been for other reasons."

  She frowned and stepped away from him. "I never knew a man to give a damn about the motivations behind a woman offering him sex before, just so long as he got it."

  "Yeah, well, you've been hanging around with the wrong kind of men, then."

  She tilted her head to one side as if trying to puzzle him out. He shook his head, afraid he would say too much if he kept this conversation going. Instead, he slipped an arm around her shoulders and headed her toward the house, bending to scoop up discarded clothes along the way. "Don't ever feel you have to repay me in any way for anything I do, okay, Jasmine?" he asked softly. "If I do something, it's because I want to do it. You don't owe me anything."

  She leaned her head on his shoulder. "I don't understand you."

  "No," he said. "I don't suppose you do."

  They went inside, where she kissed him goodnight and headed up to her bedroom. Luke went to the sofa and pulled his covers over him. And though he was bothered by her motivations, he didn't dwell on it long. His body was satisfied, and his soul drained. He was asleep moments after his head hit the pillow.

  When Luke woke, the sun was streaming in through the eastern windows, the fire was long dead, and he was no closer to knowing all the answers. He only knew that he had somehow managed to fall in love with a woman who didn't seem to believe love existed. But he knew it did. Now, for the first time he could recall, he really knew it did.

  Maybe he should tell her. No, no, maybe he should see to first things first here and stop thinking like a teenager with his first crush. Maybe he should take care of business—namely, eliminating the threat to Jasmine and her son. That had to come before anything else. How could he expect Jasmine to think about tender emotions and lifetime commitments when she had this threat hanging over her head?

  That was it. That was exactly it. He had to go to Chicago. Simple. He didn't know why the hell he hadn't thought of it sooner. He was the man here. He was a Brand, for heaven's sake. He didn't need to wait for Jasmine's permission to get involved.

  He needed to take this bull by the horns and twist until he broke its damned neck. Period.

  He got up and ran upstairs, animated now that he had chosen a course of action, eager to get on with it. He tapped only once before opening the door to the bedroom he'd fixed up for Jasmine, with loads of help from his cousins-in-law. But she wasn't there, and the pretty comforter was undisturbed. The bed hadn't been slept in. Maybe she'd decided to sleep with her son. God, he hoped Bax hadn't had another bad dream. Luke had slept like a log last night—he could have slept right through it. He stepped into the hallway and turned to Baxter's room. But when he opened that door, he didn't like what he saw there at all. Bax, huddled on the bed with his knees drawn up to his chest, crying as if his little heart were broken in two. His glasses lay on the bed beside him, as if he'd had them on, but taken them off again.

  Luke's own heart split open at the sight of the tears on the boy's face, and he quickly went to Bax, wrapped him in his arms and held him close. "Hey, now, come on. What's all this?" Bax hugged him back but didn't speak. If anything, his sobs got louder. "Baxter, come on, pal, tell me what's wrong. Did you have another nightmare? Hmm? Is that it?" The small head shook side to side very slightly, all without moving from Luke's shoulder. "No? Well, what then? Hmm? Come, on, Bax, you know whatever it is, I can make it better. You know that, right?"

  Silence. The crying stopped, though a few spasmodic sobs kept on coming, like aftershocks, quaking Baxter's small body. He lifted his head, and he looked Luke right in the eyes, even though his were slightly unfocused without his glasses. "You can? You really, really can make it better, Luke? You're not just saying that?"

  "I'm not just saying that. Whatever is wrong right now, I promise you, I will fix it. I'll find a way. But I can't until you t
ell me what it is." He wanted to ask where Jasmine was. In the bathroom, maybe. He didn't hear the shower running, but that didn't mean much. But he would get to that later. First things first here.

  Swiping his wet cheeks with the sleeves of his pajamas, Baxter lifted a hand and opened it to reveal a crumpled sheet of paper. Frowning, Luke took it and slowly smoothed it open. And then he read the lines with a sinking heart.

  My sweet little boy, Mommy has to go away for just a little while. But I know you will be safe and sound here with Luke and the Brands. They'll take very good care of you until I get back, and I promise that won't be very long. You are the most precious thing in all the world to me, and I could never stay away from you for very long.

  You know that. Please don't be worried. Mommy's gonna make everything all right again. You be a good boy. I'll be with you again soon. Love, Mommy

  * * *

  Chapter 11

  « ^ »

  Luke closed his eyes slowly, trying to digest what he was reading. But they popped open again when Baxter said, "She's gone back to Chicago. I know she has. She's going to try to get those men so they can't get me. Luke, they'll hurt her. I know they will! You have to do something."

  Luke cupped the boy's face and said, "You bet I'll do something. Come on now, son. You need to get up and dressed. And you need to tell me everything that happened before you and your mom left Chicago, so that I can go fetch her back here safe and sound, all right?"

  Baxter nodded.

  "I won't let anything happen to her, Bax. I promise."

  Baxter looked up into Luke's eyes, searching them, looking for something. Then, finally, he nodded. "Okay," he said. "I believe you."

  Twenty minutes later, Baxter and Luke stood on the porch of the ranch house at the Texas Brand, and Luke thumped on the door twice. It was Bubba who pulled the door open, and he grinned ear to ear when he saw Baxter standing there. "Hey! I was gonna call you anyway this morning!" Bubba said.

  "Why's that?" Baxter asked.

  "'Cause I'm gonna go fishing in the water hole, and I was gonna ask you to come along. You want to?"

  Baxter turned to look up at Luke, big eyes questioning. Luke hunkered down, clasped the boy's shoulders. "I gave you my word, Bax. I don't ever go back on my word. I'll bring her home safe. You don't need to worry. You just have fun with Bubba and try not to think about anything other than the fact that your mom will be with you very, very soon. And all this trouble will be history. Okay?"

  Bax nodded his head.

  "You want to go fishing with Bubba?"

  Again he nodded.

  "Then you go ahead. Next time you see me, I'll have your mom with me. Okay?"

  "Okay." Bax leaned in and hugged Luke's neck. "Don't take too long, Luke."

  "I'll be as fast as I can, son."

  When Bax let go, Bubba grabbed his hand. "Come on, I'll show you my new fishin' pole. I've got three now. Tell you what, you can use whichever one you want." He was still chattering as he led Bax outside and toward the shed beside the stable.

  Luke watched the boys go, turning only when Garrett spoke. "So what happened?"

  Luke faced him, saw Chelsea at his side, worry in her eyes. "She's gone. She left a note for Bax saying she was gonna make things right for him, and she'd be back soon."

  Chelsea closed her eyes slowly. "She went after whoever's been dogging her."

  "What the hell is it with you women, anyway?" Garrett muttered.

  "She's protecting her son, Garrett. A mother would face down armies to protect her child," Chelsea said.

  Luke sighed. "Look, if you'll just keep Baxter for me, I'll head up there and take care of this. But I have to hurry. I don't know how much of a start she has and—"

  "Hold on, hold on," Garrett said, holding up both hands. "Luke, I know you're new to the clan here, but that's just not the way we do things."

  Luke tensed. He lifted his chin. "I'm going after her, Garrett. There's nothing you can do to stop me, or to talk me out of it, and I don't have time to stand here while you try. She's in trouble, and I'm going after her."

  Garrett nodded impatiently. "Yeah, yeah, of course you're going after her. You just aren't going after her alone." He turned to Chelsea.

  She said, "I'll throw a few things in a bag for you. You'd better call the boys. Luke, don't worry, we'll have you guys on the road in twenty minutes—fifteen maybe." Then she hurried up the stairs, while Garrett went to the phone.

  Within ten minutes, the driveway was lined with pickups and SUVs, and Brands were everywhere. It was the damnedest thing Luke had ever seen. Garrett had said nothing on the phone other than "Jasmine's in trouble. We're going to Chicago. Pronto." And from what Luke could see, no one asked what, why, when or where. They just hung up and headed over here. They made minutemen look slow.

  Lash and Adam were elected to stay home and keep tabs on the family and the Quinn Sheriff's Department—Lash being the only deputy. Ben, Garrett, Wes and Elliot all began stowing their gear in Ben's big SUV. It had the most room, so it was, by default, the vehicle they would take. There was no discussion on this, it just seemed they all knew it. And the stuff they tossed into the back made Luke wonder if they were used to preparing for all out war. There were shotguns, boxes of ammo, a rope, even a bullwhip, along with a small overnight backpack for each of them. It made Luke's duffel bag with a change of clothes and a toothbrush crammed inside look damned insignificant.

  "They aren't going to let you bring those weapons into the city," Luke said, nodding at the guns.

  "That's okay, cuz. We weren't planning to ask," Wes said, slamming Luke on the shoulder. "Did someone call Marcus?"

  "He'll be here in an hour to help keep an eye on things here," Garrett said. "Bax will be well protected while we're gone." Then Garrett turned to Chelsea, and kissed her long and hard. "Don't worry, hon. I'll be back soon."

  "I'll be waiting."

  Bubba ran up and leaped into Garrett's arms, hugging his neck. "Be careful, Dad."

  "Always. You take good care of Baxter, okay? I'm trusting you to see to it he doesn't have any skinned-up knees or broken bones when his mom gets back here."

  Bubba grinned. "We'll take it easy. Promise."

  "Good." Garrett put the boy down.

  Luke saw Baxter standing beside him. He'd watched the entire exchange between father and son like a hungry pup eyeing a T-bone. Luke hunkered down and held out his arms. Baxter's face lit up, and he ran into them, hugging Luke's neck, and Luke's throat closed up almost too much to let his words through. How had the little guy wrapped himself up so tight in Luke's heart so fast? "Now, if you're gonna stay here, you'll have to help Bubba with his chores—you know, he has that pony to take care of. You're gonna have to help with that."

  "Sure will, Luke." As Luke expected, Bax's eyes lit up at the prospect. Good. Poor fellow needed something on his mind besides his mother and the trouble she was heading into.

  "And try not to worry. Everything's gonna be fine. I always keep my promises."

  Nodding, Baxter released his neck. But then, impulsively, he grabbed on again and leaned in close, and whispered, "I wish you were my dad." He hugged hard then let Luke go, and, turning, ran back to the house with Bubba at his side. They stopped at the porch to pick up the fishing poles they'd left leaning there. Luke glanced toward Chelsea, but not right at her. He didn't think he'd ever been so close to shedding tears in his life—definitely not since he'd been Baxter's age himself. "You'll keep an eye on them around the water, won't you? I mean, I don't know if Bax can swim, and…"

  Chelsea smiled wide. "Gee, you're starting to sound like Jasmine. Don't you worry, Luke. They aren't getting out of my sight."

  He nodded, and finally turned and got into the SUV. He had to, because his eyes were burning more every time anyone opened their mouth. And what Baxter had whispered so desperately into his ear just now had hit him like a freight train. Because the response that had leaped to his lips was, "Me too." And he realized that
he meant it.

  Ben drove, since it was his vehicle, and Luke sat beside him in the front. In the middle set of seats with Wes, Garrett manned a cell phone, using his authority as sheriff to check with the airlines to be sure Jasmine hadn't booked a flight to Chicago. If she had, they would have to follow suit to catch up to her. When he finished speaking, he said, "No tickets bought to anywhere in Jasmine's name or Jenny Lee's. She has to be driving."

  "That's good news," Elliot said. He was in the third row of seats, the one farthest back, his arms braced on the back of the seat in front of him, and his head leaning forward, between Garrett and Wes. "We might be able to catch her."

  "She couldn't have left much before dawn," Luke told them. "I was … um … awake till then. And she had to walk past me to get out of the house."

  "Why don't you fill us in on what you know, Luke?" Garrett asked. "I assume you at least have an idea of where to look once we hit Chicago."

  Luke nodded. "Jasmine worked at a club called The Catwalk," he said. "Bax says they stopped on the way to take him to his last day of school so she could pick up her paycheck. She told him to stay in the car, but he got out, climbed up on some trash cans and looked in through a window. He says he saw three men in a room. One of them pulled out a gun and shot another one in the head."

  Wes whistled long and low.

  "Oh, it gets worse. Bax was so scared he fell, knocking the trash cans down. It made a hell of a racket, and he ran for all he was worth back to the car. The two guys came out the back door of the building, and Bax says one of them shot at him."

  "Heartless bastard," Elliot muttered.

  "You can say that again. Anyway, Jasmine came running, threw a brick at the shooter, and only managed to piss him off more. He turned the gun on her then, which I imagine, knowing Jasmine, was her intention all along."