by Nika Rhone
After lingering at the car for a few seconds, the man seemed to understand the game being played. Resettling the jacket of his dark gray suit, he closed the distance between them with long, easy strides that warned Daryl this man wasn’t all he appeared. The expensive suit and neatly clipped brown hair couldn’t hide the predator lurking just under the sheep’s clothing.
Stopping in front of the bottom step, the man said, “I’m looking for Daryl Raintree.”
Not what he’d been expecting. Expression bland, Daryl slid his phone into his shirt pocket. “And you are?”
The man studied him for a second as though debating whether he needed to answer. Daryl knew exactly what he looked like. He’d been out working with the horses when Manuelo came to get him. He was dusty and sweaty and dressed like any of the other hands in worn jeans and boots and a threadbare shirt that was one washing away from the rag bin.
“My name is Vaughn. I work for Senator Davenport.”
“What do you want, Vaughn?”
“To talk to Miss Westlake.”
“Not going to happen.”
Cocking his head, Vaughn seemed to reevaluate him. “You’re Raintree.”
Neither confirming nor denying, Daryl said, “Amelia has already said everything she wants to say to the Davenports. You’re wasting your time and mine. There’s no way I’m letting you anywhere near her.”
Vaughn nodded, although Daryl doubted it was an agreement.
“I was informed of what happened the other day on the road. I apologize. My men were a little too enthusiastic trying to carry out their assignment, and they might have gotten a bit out of line.”
“Might have?”
“They’ve been reprimanded for their ill-advised actions.”
“Well, that makes me feel so much better,” Daryl drawled.
“I can assure you, harming Miss Westlake was never the intent.”
“Yeah, kind of hard for anyone to marry a corpse.”
Vaughn’s professional smile flickered for a split-second. “As I said, my men have been reprimanded.”
Like that was supposed to make it all better.
“You know, the last time I checked, Don Rogers was the head of Senator Davenport’s security,” Daryl said, trying to get a bead on just who Vaughn was within the Davenport power structure. He didn’t act like hired muscle, but he screamed dangerous all the same.
“He still is,” Vaughn replied.
“Then who the hell are you?”
“I handle…a different set of problems for the senator, whenever the need arises.”
Daryl stiffened. He’d been right. This man was much more dangerous than he appeared. He tapped his right thigh. The prearranged signal brought his father out onto the porch, rifle cradled comfortably in his arms in a way that showed he knew how to use it. Surprisingly, Vaughn grinned in reaction.
“I should probably feel flattered that you find me so intimidating you needed reinforcements, Raintree, since you already have two guns pointed my way, but I can assure you, I’m simply here to facilitate a conversation, nothing more.”
“And I already told you, Amy isn’t interested in talking to you,” Daryl replied, then cursed his slip of the tongue.
Vaughn’s smile became more of a smirk. “Amy, is it? In any case, I wasn’t talking about me. Someone else wants to speak with her and get this mess straightened out once and for all.”
“She’s not going anywhere with you.” That was for damn sure. If the bastard made one wrong move toward the house, he was going to find out just how many guns he actually had trained on him at that moment, and it was a hell of a lot more than two.
“She doesn’t have to.”
For the first time since it pulled up, Daryl took another look at the sedan. The sun was creating a glare on the windows, but despite the heavy tint he could just make out the shape of a person in the backseat. So, Amelia’s idiot fiancé had finally decided to come after his runaway bride in person. The thought made Daryl’s gut tighten. Anger on her behalf, he assured himself. Not worry. The man was a raging jackass. There was no way in hell Amy would give him another chance.
Would she?
Not that it should matter to him if she did. She was a grown woman. She needed to make her own choices. Her own mistakes.
Hell, who was he kidding? If she tried to get in the car and leave with the bastard, Daryl would probably lock her in his bedroom until she came to her senses and his father disposed of the would-be groom’s body.
“He just wants to talk to her. Right here, in the open. No tricks.” Vaughn spread his hands wide, like a magician working his audience. Nothing up my sleeve, I swear.
Daryl’s knee-jerk reaction was a great big “hell no!” but the truth was, it was a reasonable request given the circumstances. Daryl didn’t feel reasonable. In fact, he was feeling downright surly, which only got worse when he glanced at his father and the man gave an almost imperceptible nod, indicating he thought they should agree to the meeting.
Well, fuck.
“Right here, out in the open,” Daryl repeated, laying the ground rules.
“Absolutely.”
He really didn’t want to do this. “All right. If she wants to talk to him.” Because if she didn’t, no one was forcing her.
Daryl tipped his head toward his father, who slipped back into the house. A few seconds later, Hank led Amelia outside, her face a little pale but her expression resolute. Daryl felt a surge of pride at her courage. A week ago, she’d run from this man. Now, she chose to face him down. He might have once thought she had no backbone, but this week had proven him wrong.
As Amelia came to stand beside Daryl, Vaughn studied her, a small line of puzzlement creasing his forehead as though he wasn’t certain she was the right person. Not surprising, since she was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and not a designer gown. “Miss Westlake,” he said finally.
“Mr. Vaughn.”
Ah, snooty princess was firmly in place. Daryl bit back a grin. Charles didn’t stand a chance.
With an arm gesture, Vaughn invited Amelia to accompany him toward the car, but she stopped at Daryl’s touch. Daryl held out a hand to Vaughn. “Keys.” He caught them as they were tossed, tucking them in his pocket for safekeeping. “Now the gun.”
“Do you really think I’d try anything with all the firepower aimed at me?”
“Do you really think I’ll let her anywhere near you while you’re armed?”
The fact he didn’t continue to argue the point showed Vaughn hadn’t expected any less. But rather than turn over his weapon, he walked back to the car. Using exaggerated movements, he withdrew the gun from the holster that was all but invisible under his jacket and put it inside on the driver’s seat before closing the door. He held up his hands in a “happy now?” gesture.
“What do you think?” Daryl asked his father quietly.
“I’ll keep an eye on him. You keep your attention on Amy.”
Daryl nodded. He didn’t trust Vaughn an inch, and clearly his father felt the same way. He looked at Amelia. She was staring at the car like it was a snake poised to strike. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
She looked up at him, and he realized it was anger, not fear, shining from her eyes. Squaring her shoulders, she lifted her chin in pure regal fashion. “Absolutely.”
They walked down the steps, three abreast, Amelia between the two men determined to protect her, no matter the cost. Vaughn went to the rear passenger side door and pulled it open before stepping back to the front of the car, followed by Hank. Daryl ignored them both. He stopped Amelia while they were still several yards from the car, waiting for Charles to get out.
Only it wasn’t Charles who emerged.
It was Charles’s father, the senator himself, who stepped out onto the dirt driveway and gave the place a disdainful once over before locking his gaze on Amelia. Who, judging by her sudden start, was just as surprised to see him as Daryl. Clearly they should have clarified exac
tly who the “he” was that Vaughn was referring to.
Too late now. In any case, the sooner they got this over with, the better.
Evidently, Amelia felt the same because she sent out the opening salvo. “Senator, this is a surprise.”
“I don’t know why it should be, considering the situation you’ve put us all in disappearing the way you did. Do you know how much trouble I had to go to in order to track you down?”
“I made my position quite clear to Charles before I left Connecticut,” Amelia replied, her voice even and threaded with confidence. “I told him I was calling off the wedding and why. I gave him back his ring. I didn’t think I needed to be any clearer than that.”
“Yes, yes, I know all about your reasons.” He said it like it was a ridiculous word.
“Then, I don’t understand your confusion.”
“Charles fully expected you to take a few hours to get over your little fit, not hop on a plane and take off into the middle of nowhere to sulk.”
“My little fit?” Amelia gave a half laugh. A dangerous sound, even if the senator didn’t realize it yet. “Is that really how you think of me? What am I saying? Of course, it is. Well, let me tell you, Senator, that my little fit is a permanent state, and I have no intention of changing my mind.”
“And I have no intention of standing here baking in the sun arguing with you about this.”
“Well, we can agree on one thing, at least.”
“Good. Then get in the car. My plane is on standby at the airport. We might just make it back to Connecticut in time for the rehearsal dinner if we’re lucky.” His tone was brusque and businesslike, like he was clipping out orders to one of his minions, and he was already moving to get back into the car.
Amelia flinched, just a little, but otherwise she didn’t move an inch. “I meant I didn’t plan on arguing. I have no intention of going with you. Weren’t you listening? The wedding is off.”
“The wedding is most certainly not off,” the senator snapped, turning back toward her.
Daryl bristled at the other man’s aggressive posture, but he held himself back, letting Amelia handle the man who clearly wasn’t reading the danger signals she gave off. Senator Blowhard was expecting quiet, compliant Amelia. What he was about to get was a big fat helping of confident, pissed-off Amy.
“Do you have any idea the effort that has gone into making this the event of the season?” Davenport asked. “The expense?”
“And every bit of both has been solely focused on making sure Charles got as many interviews and as much column space as possible,” Amelia replied. “You were engineering a publicity campaign, not a wedding. The entire thing was about his career, not our lives together.”
“A fact you knew perfectly well from the start.”
Amelia paused before slowly nodding. “You’re right. I did go into the engagement knowing that a lot of the focus would be on Charles. That doesn’t mean I expected the wedding to be nothing more than an elaborate publicity stunt, or the marriage nothing more than a pretty façade to present to the public. It might have taken me a lot longer than it should have to figure that out, and shame on me for being blind to the truth. But that doesn’t mean I intend to compound my mistake by going through with this sham of a marriage and consigning myself to being miserable for the rest of my life just so Charles doesn’t lose traction in his campaign.”
“Calling off the wedding at this juncture would mean more than losing traction. It would destroy any chance he has of winning the primary this year.”
“Oh, please. I’m sick and tired of everyone harping on how this wedding and this marriage are the cornerstone of Charles’s career. Get over it! Plenty of politicians aren’t married, and plenty of them are divorced. If Charles can’t win the candidacy without being married to me, then maybe he should consider another career choice.”
“Do you seriously think that you are in any way a factor in all of this?” Davenport scoffed. “Charles could have married any debutante and gotten the same amount of publicity. What he needs from you is—”
“My father,” Amelia finished for him. “Or, rather, his connections and influence.”
“With William’s backing added to mine, Charles will become a rising star in the party. He could be sitting in the Oval Office before he’s forty. Do you understand what that would mean?”
“Well, I wish you all the best with that, but I’m sorry, I’m not sacrificing myself at the altar of political ambition. Not Charles’s, not my father’s, and certainly not yours. I don’t plan on repeating myself again, so please listen carefully. There isn’t going to be any wedding, now or ever. It’s over. Now please, just go home and leave me alone.”
The senator’s face flushed red, leaving streaks of white along his cheekbones as he clenched his jaw. “This is far from over, missy. Do you really think you can just make a decision of this magnitude and not suffer the consequences?”
“Oh, I fully expect to be vilified by you and your PR team in the press.” She sounded tired but resolved. “Do your worst. Nothing you say matters. You can’t hurt me.”
The senator got an ugly look in his eye, his lips twisting into a mockery of a smile. “Maybe not. But I can certainly hurt your friends.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
The senator’s words sent a shaft of panic through Amelia’s carefully constructed shell of calm. Facing down Charles’s father was one of the hardest things she’d ever done. Harder even than giving Charles back his ring. But she’d been doing a fairly good job, despite her quaking insides. Or so she’d thought.
Until now.
Now, the very open threat against the people she loved most was enough to shake her confidence to the core.
“What are you talking about? My friends have nothing to do with any of this.”
“Oh, I think they had everything to do with it.” He shot a glare to where Daryl stood just off to her side. “Especially since it was one of the Fordham’s security people who spirited you out of Connecticut, and then again out of Boulder before hiding you away up here in the ass-crack of nowhere so no one could get in contact with you.”
“I was leaving Connecticut on my own anyway. Daryl coming along had nothing to do with my decision to leave. My decision,” she repeated, trying desperately to head off where she could see this going. Dammit all. This was exactly why she’d refused to stay with her friends or their families. She hadn’t wanted her decisions to cause them trouble. Coming here was supposed to have kept them safe.
Clearly, she’d miscalculated.
But maybe she could still fix things without having to go to her backup plan. She’d known from the start it might come down to doing the one thing she absolutely didn’t want to do, what it sickened her to even consider doing, but she knew if she had to, if she couldn’t convince the senator to leave her friends out of this, then she’d have no choice. They would not suffer for her bad decisions.
“In case you’ve forgotten, my friends’ families aren’t exactly defenseless. Frank Fordham and Rupert Beaumont didn’t have their millions handed to them.” Unlike the Davenports and Westlakes, who had been living off “family money” for generations. “They both worked hard to achieve their success, and they’re very well respected by their peers. You can’t do anything to them they couldn’t brush off and ignore.” Maybe. She really had no idea what kind of trouble the senator had in mind, but it wouldn’t hurt to remind him that the people he was threatening were pretty darn powerful in their own right. If he struck out, they had the wherewithal to strike back.
The senator’s expression said he didn’t like that little reminder, but before Amelia could feel a moment’s relief, he said, “Not all of your friends.” He glanced around with feigned interest. “This looks like a nice ranch. Horses, I believe? Small places like this always run on such a tight margin. Be a shame if anything were to happen to make people shy away from doing business here. They might never recover.”
Amelia stared a
t him in shock as the threat registered. “You would honestly destroy good, decent people just to get what you want?”
“In a heartbeat.”
There was no shame in his tone. It sickened her to think this was the kind of man running their government. Worse, he was raising his son to be just like him. Now she knew exactly where Charles had gotten his lack of morals.
“You’re a monster.”
“No, I’m a pragmatist. I’m willing to do whatever I must to achieve my goal. The question is, what are you willing to do to save your friends?”
Anything. Everything. Even the one thing she didn’t want to do.
“Okay.” She swallowed hard against the fist-sized lump that was choking her. “You win. I’ll go back with you.”
“No.”
She jumped as Daryl practically shouted the word and then again when he clamped a hand onto her shoulder.
“Amy, no, you can’t—”
“It’s okay.” She patted his hand, refusing to break eye contact with the senator. “I’ll go back with you,” she repeated, her voice strengthening, “and my first stop will be to pay a visit to the man whose wife your son is sleeping with.” If she’d had any doubts about whether or not he was aware of Charles’s extracurricular activities, the lack of reaction on the senator’s face put them to rest.
“Threatening me with spreading lies isn’t going to—”
“Truths, Senator. Although I can understand where you’d have trouble telling the two apart, seeing as how your own moral code is a bit…ambiguous.”
“If you’re foolish enough to believe everything you hear…” His tone dripped condescension.
“I didn’t hear it. I saw it, with my own eyes. Unfortunately,” she added with a grimace. The memory of Charles’s pale buttocks as he pumped into the moaning woman bent over his desk was forever burned into her brain. “Your son should learn to lock his door when he decides to slip out of a party for a liaison. Especially if it’s a party in honor of his own wedding and that liaison is not with his fiancée.”
The senator’s eyes narrowed. “So that’s what this is about. You caught Charles with another woman, and now you’re being spiteful.”