“I’m good in a crisis,” she’d argued. “I can do this, Owe. Let me help.”
He was afraid for her. Afraid that Paul or the men with him would fire at the first sign of movement from Bay. He had to be fast. He had to fire first.
Owen hadn’t expected three men to be waiting for them. Was there a fourth man in back? There had to be. Maybe more than that. Damn.
The two thugs facing him held Uzis. Paul held no weapon at all … only what appeared to be a detonator. His other hand tightly gripped Lauren Creed’s arm.
“I’m sorry, Ren,” Blackjack said.
Owen watched her glance skip from Bay to Luke before she looked at Blackjack and said, “I love you, Jackson.”
“That’s enough of that,” Paul said.
“Are you going to shoot all of us?” Owen asked. “That’s going to leave quite a mess to explain, isn’t it?”
“All that rancor between Blackthornes and Creeds is going to come in handy,” Paul said with a smile. “It’ll be easy enough to make it look like you’ve shot each other. Especially with Mother Creed and Father Blackthorne having a clandestine meeting here to provide a motive for all that murderous anger erupting from the rest of you.”
Owen found himself exchanging glances with his father and brother, then with Luke, and finally with Bay. Paul’s plan would work, all right. The authorities would believe it. Over the years, there had been bad blood aplenty between Blackthornes and Creeds.
They had one chance to save themselves. To save all those whose hate had turned to love. To live happily ever after.
Owen dipped his chin as a signal to Bay. Now.
She moaned loudly as she fell, to draw attention more quickly. Everyone scattered to the four winds.
Owen fell forward, his gun in his hand before the first bullets struck the outside of the house. He put a bullet between the eyes of the man who was firing, not taking a chance that he might be wearing a protective vest. The second thug ran for cover.
As planned, Clay had headed back into the house to retrieve the shotgun they’d left by the door. He blasted the second man through the broken window before he could reach safety.
Owen heard shots from the back of the house and yelled, “Luke, keep a watch out for anyone coming from the backyard. There’s another agent back there!”
Blackjack had headed straight for Ren, catching a bullet in his arm before he managed to snatch her from Paul Ridgeway’s grasp and roll away with her into the bushes where they were hidden from view.
Owen slammed into Ridgeway, but Paul held on to the detonator as they fell to the ground. When they landed, Owen lost the SIG.
“It’s not a VX mine,” Paul gasped. “It’s a claymore. And your friend Dr. Creed is lying right on top of it.”
Owen didn’t know whether to believe him or not. “Bay, move away from there,” he shouted.
“She isn’t going anywhere,” Ridgeway said. “She’s been shot.”
“What?” Owen had his hands around Ridgeway’s throat but resisted the urge to squeeze the life out of him. “Bay,” he shouted again.
He got a response from Luke, who’d crawled over to his sister. “She’s been shot. She’s bleeding bad!”
“Get her out of there,” Owen yelled.
“Stay where you are, all of you,” Ridgeway ordered. “Or I’ll push this button, and you’ll all die.”
The claymore was an antipersonnel mine that sprayed tiny pellets that shredded flesh. There wouldn’t be enough left of anyone in its path to bury.
“Do what he says,” Owen shouted. “Don’t—”
Owen hit Paul’s wrist with a chopping motion that deadened the nerves and caused him to drop the detonator. He smashed his fist into Paul’s face, knocking him cold. He found his SIG and stood over Paul Ridgeway, the barrel aimed right between his eyes. “This is for Hank, you sonofabitch!”
“Owen,” Blackjack said as he rose from the bushes. “Don’t do it.”
Owen stared at the man who’d killed his best friend—and maybe the woman he loved.
“Don’t,” Blackjack repeated. “You’ve done your job.”
Owen put pressure on the trigger, but realized he couldn’t do it. He shoved the SIG into his father’s open hand, picked up the detonator very carefully, and called, “Luke, come here.”
Luke came running.
“Can you disarm this thing?”
“Yeah. Sure,” Luke said, taking it from him.
“I have to check for that other man out back,” he said. “See if Clay—”
Owen heard the whine of machinery, and Sam Creed’s wheelchair came rolling into view from around the side of the cabin. He had a rifle across his lap. “I took care of the one out back.”
“Holy shit!” Luke said. “Sam! What are you doing here?”
“I came to make sure Mom said good-bye to Blackjack,” he admitted with a wry grin. “And stayed for the show.”
Owen was already kneeling beside Bay, who was lying in a pool of blood. “Red, can you hear me?”
Blackjack approached him holding his wounded arm, Lauren Creed at his side. Clay came out of the house and joined them. Luke walked beside Sam until they reached the crowd at the porch.
“How bad is she hurt?” Sam asked.
Owen sat Bay upright and held her close to his chest. He could see the crease on her scalp where the bullet had plowed through flesh. “I don’t know,” he said in an anguished voice. “If she dies, you’re all to blame,” he said, turning accusing eyes on his family and hers. “This damned feud has to stop. Here. Now. For good.”
He turned his gaze to Sam and said, “I’m sorry for what happened to you. It was an accident, plain and simple. I love your sister and I am, by God, going to make her my wife.” He turned to the rest of them and said, “And we’re going to be showing up for holidays, and you’d better damned well make us welcome.”
Owen was crying, the tears streaming unashamedly down his face. “I love Bayleigh Creed. Do you hear me? I love her!”
“I think everyone can hear you just fine,” Bay murmured.
“Oh, God, Red,” he said, smiling down at her through the blur of tears. “I thought you were dying.”
She lifted a shaky hand to her head, but he caught it before she could touch the wound. “My head hurts like hell. But I enjoyed the speech, Owe.”
“I hope it worked,” he said, sending his gaze from one to another of the family gathered around him, daring them to deny him his chance at a life with the woman he loved.
“I’ve got no problem with you and Bay getting together,” Sam said at last. “I draw the line at my mother and your father having some sleazy affair.”
Owen saw Bay’s mother flinch and watched his father’s jaw tighten at Sam’s indictment.
“I told you I was coming here to say good-bye to Jackson,” Bay’s mother told her son. “And that’s what I meant. We won’t be the cause of anyone’s unhappiness.”
Except their own, Owen thought, as he looked from one miserable pair of eyes to the other.
“Can you drive us to the hospital?” Owen asked Sam.
He nodded. “I’ve got my van. There’s plenty of room for anybody who wants to come.”
“I’ll stay here with Paul,” Clay said. “Until the cavalry arrives to take charge of him.”
“I can drive Luke to the hospital with me,” Bay’s mother said. “We’ll meet you there.”
That left his father alone. “How about you, Dad?”
“I’ll drive myself to the hospital.” He put a hand on Owen’s shoulder and said, “You handled yourself well, son. I’m proud of you.”
Owen felt his throat swell with emotion. It was the first time his father had ever said those words. “Thank you, Dad. I hope you’re going to come to the wedding.”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” his father said. He turned and walked away, his broad shoulders squared, his head high.
Owen shook his head as he realized that despite everything tha
t had been said here today, the battle between the Blackthornes and the Creeds wasn’t over by a long shot. His father wasn’t going to give up that Creed woman any more than Owen was going to give up her daughter.
But maybe hostilities would cease for a while. Long enough for him to marry Bay. Long enough for them to start their life together.
He lifted Bay into his arms and headed for Sam’s van. “We have a chance now, Red,” he whispered.
Her eyes were closed, and he wasn’t sure she’d heard him until she murmured, “Pretty good job of peacemaking for a lawman, Owe.”
“Yeah,” he said. “It was.”
“I love you, Owe.”
“I know, Red. I love you, too.”
Epilogue
THE BRIDE WAS PREGNANT.
It wasn’t apparent, unless you looked at the glow of joy on her face. The weather was cool for September, and Bay wore a long white dress with fitted sleeves that buttoned all the way to her wrists.
“I can’t believe this is really happening,” Bay said as her mother rearranged her veil one last time.
“I’m so happy for you, darling,” her mother said.
Bay saw the sadness in her mother’s eyes that belied the smile on her face. She kissed her mother’s cheek and said, “Someday.”
Her mother laughed. “What does that mean?”
“You know what it means. I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you.”
The church was full of friends and neighbors, Blackthornes on one side of the aisle, Creeds on the other. Callie and Trace had come all the way from Australia with their three children and sat on the bride’s side, since there were so many fewer people there.
As the eldest Creed male, Sam was leading Bay down the aisle. He showed up in the vestibule and said, “Are you ready?”
Bay smiled once more at her mother. “Ready.”
“Luke’s waiting for you,” Sam said to their mother. “He’ll walk you to your seat.”
“Be happy,” her mother said as she squeezed her hands.
“I will,” Bay promised.
Bay leaned down and kissed Sam on the cheek. “Thank you, Sam.”
“Just be happy,” he said gruffly.
“I will,” she promised for the second time.
Bay put her hand on her brother’s shoulder as he turned his wheelchair and headed for the aisle of the church. The wedding march began, and the guests stood and turned expectantly to watch.
Bay couldn’t take her eyes off Owen, who stood in a morning coat at the altar of the First Baptist Church waiting for her to join him. He looked so tall and strong and handsome. And in love. Oh, he looked at her with such love.
When she reached the front of the church, Bay noticed her mother appeared pale. She realized why when she saw that Eve Blackthorne was sitting beside her husband. Next to them sat Summer Blackthorne, with her arm looped through the arm of a handsome young man Owen had told her was visiting the family from Houston.
“Who gives this woman…” the preacher intoned.
Sam looked somber as he handed her over to Owen’s care and then turned and wheeled himself to the first pew alongside the rest of her family.
Bay laid her hand trustingly in Owen’s and met his gaze as he began to recite the vows that would join them forever. Bay’s throat had swollen closed, so her voice was whispery soft as she said, “I, Bayleigh, take you, Owen, to be my lawfully wedded husband.”
To love and to cherish, in sickness and health. Until death do us part.
They were powerful words, made more potent by Bay’s knowledge that it wasn’t going to be just the two of them, that they would be sharing their joy with a child. Bay hadn’t told Owen yet. She’d been holding this special gift close to her heart, waiting for just the right moment to tell him.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the preacher said with a beaming smile. “You may kiss the bride.”
“And the mother of your child,” Bay murmured as their lips met.
Owen jerked upright. “What did you say?”
Bay grinned. “I’m pregnant!”
There was both laughter and applause from the guests.
“I’d say this is a timely ceremony,” the preacher said. “God bless you and your blessed event.”
Owen was clasping her hands and staring at her. “Are you sure? When did this happen?”
Bay laughed at the look of astonishment in his eyes. “Twelve weeks ago. And we’re going to have—”
He put his fingertips across her lips and grinned broadly. “I don’t want to know if it’s a boy or a girl. Not until he—or she—arrives.”
Bay grinned back. “All right, Owe. Whatever you say. If you don’t want to know now, I can keep a secret.”
She was sure that whenever the twins arrived, he would be delightfully, deliriously happy to welcome his new family.
Author’s Note
Everything I know about VX nerve agent, I found on the Internet—including the formula for how to make it. Seven cities in the United States have storage and disposal facilities for the vast stockpiles of chemical warfare agents—including mustard gas left from WWI, and Sarin, Tabun and VX nerve agents—contained in bombs, mines, mortar rounds, rockets, spray tanks, and artillery projectiles. These weapons are stored in earth-covered igloos, with and without their explosive components. All chemical weapons in the United States are scheduled to be destroyed by 2007.
Letter to Readers
Dear Readers,
I hope you enjoyed The Texan! Summer Blackthorne and Bad Billy Coburn will be back soon—and the feud between the Blackthornes and the Creeds will be resumed—in The Loner, the next book in the Bitter Creek series.
If you missed Trace and Callie’s story, The Cowboy, you should be able to order it on the Internet or find it in your local bookstore.
If you’d like to read more about the Blackthorne family, look for my Captive Hearts series set in Regency England, including Captive, After the Kiss, The Bodyguard, and The Bridegroom. For those of you intrigued by the Creeds and the Coburns, check out the Sisters of the Lone Star trilogy, Frontier Woman, Comanche Woman, and Texas Woman.
I love hearing your comments and suggestions. You can e-mail me through my Web site at www.joanjohnston.com. I answer e-mail as soon as I receive it.
Happy trails,
Joan Johnston
Published by
Bantam Dell Publishing Group
a division of
Random House, Inc.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2001 by Joan Mertens Johnston, Inc.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publishers, except where permitted by law. For information address: Bantam Dell Publishing Group, New York, N.Y.
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