“Hmm…” He glanced over at the darkening horizon. “Looks like—”
“Don’t start prattling on about the weather. Of course it looks like thunderstorms—it’s August. We have one every day nearly, even if they don’t produce squat when it comes to rain.” Jack collapsed onto the lime-green metal glider that Mee-Maw had used for as long as Ryan could remember, stretching out his leg and its cast on the seat. “If you want to talk, talk about this sudden change of heart you’ve had.”
Ryan didn’t even attempt to deny that his heart had changed. “Maybe we’ve jumped to conclusions.” He dropped into the glider’s matching chair.
“I don’t get it. I thought you and I were on the same page. But now you’re cozying up to this investigator? Inviting her to my daughter’s birthday party?”
“Like I said, maybe we jumped to conclusions. She’s honestly trying to figure out what’s going on—”
“That’s the point. Do we really want her to know what’s going on? Huh?”
Ryan considered the ramifications of just that happening. He tried one more time to plead his case with Jack.
“It’s not as if I actually planted the stupid stuff—”
“No, you didn’t. And you didn’t bring it in or hire someone to bring it in. But do we want her to know who did? And more importantly, who might have told that person to disappear?”
After Jack’s pointed statement, the two men lapsed into a thoughtful silence.
“She’s on our side, Jack. I don’t know why…and I sure don’t know how to convince you of that, but I feel it. Who’s to say she won’t dig up some dirt on Murphy and make the whole problem go away? Who’s to say Ag-Sure’s not just gunning for Murphy in the first place?”
“Right, and real life always has happily-ever-afters. We don’t know…” Jack looked pained. “Look, as bad as I’d hate for you to take the fall for something you didn’t do, I’d hate worse for Mee-Maw’s farm to go down the drain as collateral damage.”
Ryan’s temper bubbled hot. “As if I wouldn’t hate seeing Mee-Maw lose this place? Look, cuz, I didn’t work hard out here, pulling fourteen-hour days in all kinds of hellish weather, just to see the farm go. I’m not letting it happen—no matter what I have to do.”
Jack held up his hand. “Whoa. I’m not minimizing what you’ve done. I appreciate the sacrifices you’ve made—no way I could farm this place on my own and run the insurance agency—and no way could I provide for a family with what I’d make. You’ve done good. I’m just saying, open your eyes. Maybe this woman is baiting you. Sure, you haven’t done anything wrong—”
“No, just colluded with a bunch of greedy jerks wanting to scheme a few million out of a federally backed insurance program. No crime there, huh?”
“As I was saying, you haven’t done anything wrong, just, um, turned a blind eye. But we don’t know what her investigation will turn up about Gramps…and J.T. More importantly—”
“I know. Mee-Maw.”
“If Mee-Maw helped J.T., the fines alone would ruin her. It’d kill her to lose this place, Ryan.”
“But I’ve asked Mee-Maw until I’m blue in the face and she won’t tell me squat. I’m tired of skulking around like some guilty piece of—”
“Look at it this way—sure, this Becca could be on your side. Sure, she could be just gunning for Murphy. But does she really, truly have to know all the details about how the vine got here to nail Murphy? Huh? Wouldn’t it be better to go on like we decided, least said, easiest mended?”
“I swear, I don’t know. If I just knew for sure what happened that day—”
Ryan broke off as he heard a noise through the screen door. He looked up to see Becca’s form disappearing back into the house.
“No! That was Becca. Who knows what she’ll make of this conversation.”
“See? She’s skulking around, spying through keyholes, trying to catch you off guard.”
“No. No. She is not like that.”
“And you know this how?” Jack’s sarcasm was heavy. “Just because she bats those pretty, long eyelashes at you?”
“All right, so she’s pretty. She’s beautiful. But inside…she’s like us, Jack. She’s like us.”
“She’s from the city. How can she be like us?”
* * *
BECCA HADN’T MEANT to eavesdrop, and she hadn’t heard much, just the tail end of an extremely suspicious conversation. But the old saying about eavesdroppers hearing highly instructive things was true. Her appetite—and the pleasure in the evening—had vanished when she’d heard Jack say enough to convince her that the two men knew or suspected how the vine had made the trip from Texas.
The only consolation she’d taken from the snippet she’d heard was Ryan’s obvious reluctance. Whatever this deal was, whatever Jack was involved in, Ryan didn’t want to be a part of it.
And what was Ryan wondering about “that day” and what had happened? What day?
The time to ask Ryan about it was sooner rather than later—and the first chance she got, she’d definitely demand some answers.
Becca suddenly felt fatigue bone-deep within her, suddenly was aware of how she probably looked. She’d been hiking through cotton fields in the heat of the summer. Her hair was a mess, her little bit of makeup was gone and she felt gritty and exhausted.
And more than a little in the way. Jack’s studied indifference to her, as well as the overly polite manners of the rest of the family had a way of eating into the warm acceptance she still felt from Mee-Maw and Ryan.
Becca craved a hot shower and cool, clean sheets. But now that she’d invited herself to this shindig, she was here for the duration until the cake was sliced, served and eaten.
When the German chocolate cake finally was reduced to crumbs, Becca pushed back her chair, paper plate in hand. “Mee-Maw, that’s about the best food I’ve eaten yet. You sure know how to cook. Emily, I’m so glad I could be here to celebrate your birthday with you. But if you guys will excuse me, I’m going to head back into town. I’m more than a little beat.”
Ryan rose to his feet. “I’ll follow you in.”
“No, that’s—” An image of that hangman’s noose sprang to her mind, as did her earlier determination to ask Ryan about Jack. “Well, I hate to trouble you, but I would appreciate it.”
She couldn’t miss Jack’s eye roll—or Marla’s well-placed elbow in his ribs. But Ryan had elected to ignore it. “No problem. It’d make me feel better, what with what happened last night.”
Jack frowned. “What happened last night?”
“Someone left her a hangman’s noose made out of dodder vine on her door handle.”
Jack’s face blanched. “That’s cold, man. Yeah. You, uh, follow her in. I’ll supervise the cleanup.”
“Da-ad!” Emily protested. “It’s my birthday!”
“What? You think just ’cause it’s your birthday you get a free ride?” Jack reached over and tugged on Emily’s ponytail. “Aw, okay. No dish duty for you.”
It occurred to Becca as she watched the banter between Jack and his daughter that the man was someone she would have liked, wanted to still, except for what she’d overheard earlier.
Man. What am I thinking? This whole family had pulled her in a knot. Dad wouldn’t have lost his objectivity. He would have marched out here and demanded to know the truth. No, probably he would have had this figured out already.
She worried over how to frame the questions she wanted to ask Ryan as she drove back into town. The flicker of headlights in her rearview mirror served as a constant reminder that he was behind her. It at once comforted her and made her apprehensive about the coming conversation.
The Mini bounced over a pothole or two in the paved parking lot of the motel. The place was dark,
blinds drawn. She could see the desk clerk through the wide plate-glass window. He had his feet propped up, and he looked as if he was dozing.
Ryan joined Becca on the breezeway. “Okay then, just a check in your room.” He reached for the doorknob as she unlocked it, their fingers brushing. Becca’s heart pounded with the same intensity it would have had they been intending some other, more amorous activity.
Ryan jerked his hand back, his face coloring. “I meant, just to be sure everything’s okay. I’ll be on my way after that.”
“Are you angling to see my etchings?” she teased, trying to break the tension.
He laughed. “Some other time I’d be all over them. But I really need to get back and help Jack.”
“Yeah.” The mention of Jack’s name reminded Becca why she was here. She turned the knob and let Ryan inside.
He looked around, opened the bathroom door, peeked behind the shower curtain, checked the closets and under both beds. That last activity showed her just how well he filled out his Levi’s.
As if you needed a second look.
Becca struggled for something to say that would not reveal how attracted she was to him. “Take this bodyguard business seriously, huh?”
“I don’t want anything to happen to you, Becca.”
Her mouth went dry at the seriousness of his tone. Did he know something she didn’t? She squared her shoulders and dived in. “Look, I know you have to get back, okay? But I…I wanted to ask you about Jack. Is he involved in this? Is that who you’re protecting?”
“Who says I’m protecting anybody?” The way he folded his arms across his chest and the sudden stillness in his face screamed that he’d shut down.
She crossed the room, touched him on his forearm. “I couldn’t help but overhearing you and Jack on the porch. I didn’t hear much, but it sounded like Jack…wasn’t too thrilled with me digging into this.”
“Jack’s like me. He doesn’t want to see Mee-Maw lose the farm, what with the time it’s taking to get the claim settled. Nothing more than that.” When Becca didn’t reply, his voice softened. “I swear, Becca. He’s not involved. I’m not involved.”
There was something in his voice, though, that told her he knew more than he was telling.
“But somebody you care about is involved. Somehow…somehow you think Mee-Maw could lose her farm.” She pondered the questions, the ifs and hows, running through her head.
“Of course we’re worried about the farm. Who knows what Ag-Sure’s got up their sleeves, huh? They drag this out, farms like Mee-Maw’s will wind up being foreclosed. We just don’t have the cushion, the padding. That’s why we carry crop insurance, to hedge our bets. If they decide it’s fraud, maybe nobody gets paid, even if I didn’t plant the vine.”
“And you didn’t? Tell me. Look me in the eye, Ryan. Tell me, swear to me, that you had nothing to do with that dodder vine getting in that field—in anybody’s field.” She knew she was close to begging, but she’d be willing to believe anything he said.
He stared down at her, slipped his hands on her shoulders, then down along her back to finally settle on her waist. “I swear. I swear on Gramps’s grave I didn’t plant it. I didn’t bring it in. I wouldn’t. It’s playing with fire messing with that stuff. Whoever did has no respect for farming, doesn’t really, truly understand how to care for land. I swear. I had nothing to do with it. And neither did Jack.”
Relief flooded through her. This was what she’d been waiting for, hoping for—his concession that this whole thing wasn’t legit, and his solemn assurance that he was clean in all of this.
But that relief was pushed away by something else—the feel of his palms through her shirt. Ryan’s face was so earnest, as earnest as a man proposing, she wanted to reach up and kiss the seriousness away from his mouth. She wanted to make him laugh, see his dimples jump.
Instead, Becca remained professional. She settled instead for a smile. “Thank—”
She didn’t get it all out. His mouth descended on hers, warm and searching. After a split second’s surprise, her body took over, pushing away any common sense she might have brought to bear.
It was Ryan who stepped back first. Becca was a little embarrassed about that. She bit her lip, the lip he’d just thoroughly kissed.
“If I don’t get out of here…” he rasped. “What is it about you? Why do I want to just let go, lose it with you?”
Becca didn’t have to think up an answer. He pressed another quick kiss to her mouth and bolted for the door, leaving her bereft and confused and wondering what made him jerk away.
He stopped at the door, turned and gave her a look that made her knees go to jelly. In a hoarse voice, he said, “Call me if you need anything. We need to talk…when I can think again.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
KISSES LIKE Ryan’s had a way of creating a monster case of insomnia.
Becca’s body practically hummed with energy, even after she’d showered off the day’s grit and grime. Though she was tired, her brain, filled as it was with all she’d learned that day, wouldn’t cooperate.
Mainly, though, one jubilant thought pulsed through her: He kissed me! He really, really kissed me!
Another thought like an accompaniment chord twanged in the background: He’s not involved in this scam with the vine!
Becca had no doubt that when they did talk again, she’d get the full story. She could write her summary report for Ag-Sure, a report that would absolve Ryan of all guilt or suspicion, and she could confess to him about being Sunny.
It wasn’t such a horrible secret, was it? No way he could get mad about that, right?
Right?
* * *
MEE-MAW WAS HAULING OUT dodder vines, clipping them into short sections, saying, “Now, see, we can batter-fry them up like okra and they’ll sell like hotcakes. Aren’t you glad I planted them, Becca?”
Suddenly Becca felt a vine wrap around her throat, constricting her breathing. It came alive, turned into a boa constrictor, hissing in her ear.
“Wake up!”
Becca struggled to leave the dream behind, but woke to find that something really was wrapped around her throat, her mouth. She stared up, terrified, feeling a heavy knee in her chest.
“Shh. Shh. Easy. You be quiet, listen, and I’ll be on my way.”
Hard eyes glittered out from the holes of a ski mask. There was no mouth, and somehow that terrified Becca even more.
In response to her gurgle, the hands tightened more.
Quickly, she managed to nod, to mouth okay. She needed him to let his guard down if she was ever going to have a chance against his solid weight.
The rough southern voice hissed in her ear again. “Smart girl. Now, you be even smarter and get out. Just pack your bags and forget you was even here. What’s that money to a rich insurance company? Nothin’.”
Was it Murphy? Too thin to be Murphy, and besides, Murphy wasn’t the type to break in to a motel room.
“Just go on back to Daddy, or else you’ll be sorry.” The voice singsonged like some sort of twisted grade-school chant. He pulled her into a half-sitting position. His thumb, in rough work gloves, slid along her jaw. “A shame I got orders not to leave any marks.”
She held still, squeezed her eyes shut.
He moved away from her. “Half of me’s hopin’ you will stick around. ’Cause they won’t care what I do to you if they tell me to finish you off. But for now…I got orders. So later, babe.”
In a flash, he dropped her. For a dizzying moment she was falling backward. Her head hit the cheap motel headboard with a sick clunk.
She forced herself to open her eyes. One moment he stood at the door, silhouetted in the light from outside. The next, he was gone, and the door slammed shut.
Becca stumbled out of bed for the window, making it just as a beat-up pickup truck with the tailgate down burned rubber out of the parking lot. She tried to register the make and model of the vehicle he was driving in the brief glimpse she’d had, but all she could see was a dark blur and a streak of taillights.
Her convulsive trembling hadn’t stopped. She leaned, gasping, against the cool plate-glass window, then backtracked for the phone.
When the 9-1-1 operator asked her what her emergency was, Becca burst into tears.
* * *
SHE SAT IN THE BACK of an ambulance, a rough blanket thrown around her shoulders, impatient with the E.M.T.
“Let’s just go on to the hospital, get you checked out…” the female E.M.T wheedled once more.
Through gritted teeth, Becca rasped, “No. I’m fine.”
The woman touched Becca’s neck. “Well, he sure left you with some bruises.”
Just then, Becca heard raised voices.
“Where is she? I want to know, is she okay? Where is she?”
Ryan. Her heart flooded with joy and relief. A separate, almost detached part of Becca’s brain wondered at how he could make her feel safe by his very presence.
“Easy, easy…they’re checking her out. She’s okay…” Brandon Wilkes trailed off awkwardly. “Before you start your inquisition, she didn’t get a good description. She didn’t get the make and model of the truck. She got squat. But she’s alive and she’s pretty much in one piece, so I think that makes her a winner, okay? It just leaves us little to work on.”
“Ryan!” Becca’s voice came out ragged and croaky, thanks to her assailant’s handiwork.
“You want him in here?” Without waiting for an answer, the E.M.T. stuck her head out of the doors. “We’re done here. She says she doesn’t want to go to the hospital, and there’s not a whole bunch we can do for her throat. She wants Ryan whoever-it-is.”
Ryan pushed into the back of the ambulance. His arms went round Becca. To her shame, she nearly cried again, trembling much as she had right after the attack.
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