“He isn’t going to share that with you, Becca.”
“Why not?” she demanded.
“Because it would undermine the D.A.’s legal efforts to prosecute your father.” He shifted in the leather seat, angling so he could look at her. “Fair warning. There isn’t going to be any plea bargaining this down. When we get all the evidence we need, the guilty party is going to jail. End of story.”
She understood on an intellectual level that Alex had good cause to feel that way. But this was her father, the man who’d loved and protected her, who’d comforted her when her mother had died. The man who’d raised her and taught her right from wrong. Tears pricked her eyes as she acknowledged his flaws, the incredible distance he’d stepped over the line between honesty and dishonesty, a line he’d once taught her was intransigent.
She refused to believe he’d fallen so far that he’d put the lives of men and livestock, who could have been injured by the blaze at El Diablo, in jeopardy. Parking the car beneath the shade of a wide-flung cottonwood tree she drew in a deep breath, fighting to find some sort of balance amidst the emotional seesaw she’d been on the past forty-eight hours. Was it only two days ago that she’d arrived here to have lunch with Kate? It seemed like an eternity.
“Are you ready?”
The sheer gentleness of the question nearly proved her undoing. Tears flooded her eyes, tears she suppressed with single-minded determination. She kept her gaze fixed straight ahead while she struggled for control. She needed to put her emotions aside and remain focused on her goals. Otherwise, she’d fall apart and there would be no one left willing to lift a finger to keep her father out of jail. She snatched another quick breath and that’s when she felt it.
It was the lightest of touches. Just a fleeting caress along the curve of her cheek. Memories swamped her at the familiar gesture. How many times in the past had Alex comforted her in just that way, lifted her during difficult times with a simple reassuring stroke of his hand? The fact that he’d offer it now, when they were so at odds, meant more than she could ever express.
Energy and sheer obstinacy flowed through her, lending her the strength she so desperately needed. Her chin firmed and she turned toward him, every scrap of grit and purpose concentrated on the goal at hand. “I’m ready,” she told him. “I want to know just what we’re up against.”
She could see his conflicted response to her comment. Part of him—no doubt a reluctant part—wanted to reassure her, while the other intended her to understand the futility of her hopes. He blew out his breath in a sigh. “I’m afraid you’re in for a world of disappointment.”
“Let’s find out.”
To her dismay, his words proved prophetic. Darius didn’t have any particular ax to grind. His approach was simple: What evidence had he uncovered, and what possible conclusions did that evidence allow him to draw? He took her through it with matter-of-fact precision, his attitude professional, logical, but with an edge of compassion that caused Rebecca to realize that Summer Martindale had chosen wisely when she’d eloped with Darius.
The proof he’d compiled against Cornelius Gentry was formidable. Even so, it wasn’t direct or even circumstantial proof against Sebastian Huntington, as she was quick to point out. Gentry could have been acting on his own.
“That’s possible,” Darius conceded. “Though considering the nature of the man, it’s unlikely. Until he’s found, we won’t know for certain.”
“He’s disappeared?” Rebecca asked in concern.
Alex didn’t bother to hide his cynicism. “Most likely, he was paid to disappear.”
She rounded on him. “And you believe my father paid him?”
“It would be in his best interest.”
“That doesn’t make sense.” She’d gotten their attention with that simple statement. A twinge of hope stirred, along with a hint of relief. The more she considered it, the more certain she grew. “I’m serious. Think about it. My father, in effect, gambled away TCC funds by investing them with Paulo Rodriquez, right?”
Both men nodded.
“If he’d had any spare money, he’d have repaid the club so he wouldn’t get caught and accused of embezzlement. So where did he find the money to make Gentry disappear? I know the man.” She couldn’t conceal her shiver of dislike. “He would require some serious money to go away.”
“What do you mean you know him?” Alex asked sharply.
She hesitated before admitting, “I’ve had a few run-ins with him.” Both men fixed her with identical looks, and she caved beneath the joint pressure. “He was too familiar. Cocky. Arrogant. And when I gave him a verbal slap, he laughed at me. He told me my father would never fire him.”
Darius groaned. “That doesn’t help build a case for your father’s innocence, Rebecca.”
“The reverse, in fact,” Alex added.
“What? Why?” she asked in alarm.
“Your father destroyed my family when I dared to touch you. I assume Gentry knew what your father had done to us?” Alex asked with surprising compassion.
She moistened her lips. “He knew. He said my father would never fire him the way he had Carmen.”
The touch of pity in Alex’s gaze totally unnerved her. “If Gentry was that certain of his position, he must have had something on your father. Something serious. If he set the blazes at your father’s instruction, he’d have reason for that sort of confidence.”
Four
It took Rebecca a moment to absorb Alex’s comment. The instant she did, her breath caught in a gasp.
“No.” She shook her head, adamant. “No, that can’t be it. Gentry must have known about the money. Thought he could use that as leverage.”
“How?” Alex persisted. “It’s not likely your father would have mentioned it to him.”
“Maybe he overheard a phone conversation between my father and Rhymes.” She could hear the desperation in her voice. “There could be any number of ways Gentry could have gotten hold of the information. Besides, what possible motivation could my father have for setting fire to Brody Oil and Gas, or your barn, Alex?”
“I explained this to you the other night,” he said, making his point with as much relentless logic as she’d used on them. “To keep all of us fighting among ourselves so we wouldn’t notice the missing money until he’d had time to replace it. The fires were simply a delaying tactic.”
“I’m telling you, he didn’t do it.” But their certainty roused another worry. “What happens if the police find Gentry and he points his finger at my father? It would be his word against Dad’s.”
He and Darius exchanged a brief, telling look before Alex responded. “The word of an embezzler against the word of his employee.” He put it in terms that had her wincing. “Assuming Gentry doesn’t have indisputable proof, it could go either way with a jury. But if I were Gentry’s lawyer, I’d pound home the fact that Huntington is a thief, and a desperate one, at that. That in his position as employer, he brought considerable pressure to bear on Gentry to set the fires and promised to protect him with the Huntington name and reputation. Since the fires only caused property damage without harm to life, I suspect Gentry could get a reduced sentence in exchange for his testimony against your father.”
Rebecca wondered if she looked as shell-shocked as she felt. On some level she’d thought she’d walk in here and discover it had all been a hideous mistake. That a simple conversation would clear the air. At the very least, she anticipated getting some idea of who might have done this. The fact that the evidence pointed straight at Gentry would have been cause for celebration, if they weren’t so determined to link her father to his foreman.
“How do I prove Dad didn’t do this?” she asked. Again, the two men exchanged glances and her anger sparked. “Look at it from my position. Assume he’s innocent. There must be a way of proving that.”
“We won’t know anything until Gentry is found,” Darius replied with stark simplicity.
She shook her head, her
desperation growing with each moment that passed. “It might be too late by then. He may have figured he could use Dad as his scapegoat if he ever got caught. We need to have our own defense lined up in advance.”
“In that case, I recommend you and your father hire the best lawyer you can afford.”
Afford. The word impacted like a slap. She could tell Darius had said all he intended. And though he radiated patience and empathy, there was nothing more he could do for her. In fact, he’d probably said more than he should have, considering he was one of those building a case against her father. She forced herself to concede the inevitable. There wasn’t any advantage to dragging this uncomfortable meeting out any further.
“Thank you, Darius,” she replied. “I appreciate your frankness.”
“No problem.”
She would have left then, but Alex stopped her with a touch of his hand and addressed Darius. “I’ve been meaning to get in touch with you and Summer,” he said. “I’d like to throw a small party for the two of you. I thought I’d invite the Brody brothers and their wives, Justin Dupree and my sister, and Kevin and Cara Novak. Since you eloped, none of us have had the chance to celebrate your marriage.”
Darius regarded Alex with surprise and a touch of puzzlement. “That’s very generous of you.”
“But unexpected?”
Darius shrugged. “A bit, given your guest list.”
Alex inclined his head in understanding. “I think we’ve all decided it’s time to put the past behind us and move forward. Celebrating your marriage to Summer provides the perfect opportunity.”
A huge grin spread across Darius’s attractive features. “Thanks, man. I know Summer would really enjoy it. Just tell us when and where, and we’ll be there.”
“It’ll be at El Diablo, and I’ll call you with the exact date. But I’m thinking a couple weeks before Christmas? That’ll make it more festive.”
They all shook hands and then she and Alex returned to the parking lot. Without a word, he took her key from her hand and diverted her path toward the passenger side of the car. She didn’t argue. All the fight had drained out of her. They didn’t speak for the entire time it took to return to his ranch. To her surprise, he didn’t turn down his drive, but continued on toward the back forty. He parked on a small hill that overlooked the bulk of his property, including the ranch house and newly constructed barn. Without a word, the two exited the vehicle and wandered toward the rigorously tended fence line edging the pasture.
“I don’t know how to fix this,” she confessed in a low voice.
“It’s not your problem to fix.”
“I can’t sit by and do nothing. He’s my father.”
“He’s a strong, ruthless man who got himself into this predicament. He can damn well get himself out again.”
She shot him a look. “Is that what you did when your mother was in trouble?” she asked drily. “When Alicia had problems?”
“There’s no comparison. My job was and is to protect my family.”
“Exactly. Just as it’s—”
He cut her off without compunction. “You have it backward, dulzura. It’s your father’s duty to protect you, not the other way around.”
“He has. He’s protected me my entire life. It’s my turn now.”
“You still don’t get it.” Anger underscored Alex’s voice. “He put himself in this mess. He caused it.”
“The embezzlement, yes,” she argued.
“And yet, even with that you’re trying to take the burden from him.”
She turned on him. “What else am I supposed to do?”
“Walk away. Do nothing.”
She dared to touch him. “Alex, please,” she whispered. “Help us. Help me.”
He stilled beneath her hand and she literally held her breath. Then he exploded into motion. Snatching her into his arms, he pulled her into an unbreakable embrace. “Just once I want you to touch me without an ulterior motive.” His voice escaped, low and harsh. “Just once I want you to come into my arms without your father standing between us.”
How could he even think such a thing? “My father isn’t here now.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. He’s with us every minute.” Alex’s mouth twisted. “But you never understood that, did you? So be it. See if you understand this instead.”
He bent his head and took her mouth, consuming her. Memories of the past collided with the actions of the present and merged into a confusing blend of what once had been and what now existed between them. There was sweetness from their long-ago affair. The bitterness of its ending. The lingering passion that ripped through them whenever they came together. And something else. Something more. Something new and tentative.
It was as though the fall wash of colors had grown more vibrant, filled with the promise and joy of the season. Sensation grew more acute. She became attuned to the quickened sounds of his breath and the sharp, crisp fragrance that clung to him, a combination of leather and sawdust and some incredible masculine scent she’d always associated with him. Her lips parted beneath his and she sank inward with the softest of sighs.
She’d exchanged kisses with other men. Passionate kisses. But no one had ever stirred her the way Alex did. Nor did any other man have the ability to arouse her to such heights with just a single brush of his mouth. And his hands… With typical assurance he unbuttoned her blouse. An errant breeze caught at the edges, flipping them backward and exposing the lacy bit of nothing covering her breasts.
He dragged his mouth from hers and his breath escaped in a gusty sigh. “Ivory.”
She stared at him in bewilderment. “Ivory?”
His fingers drifted across her silk-covered breasts. “The color. It’s been driving me crazy wondering.” Before she could respond, he lowered his head and feathered a string of kisses along the edge of her bra. Her head fell back and he groaned. “I’ve never seen skin like yours. Like velvet cream.”
His mouth drifted upward along the line of her neck until he once again delved between her parted lips. As his mouth took hers, his hands swept blouse and bra straps from her shoulders. Before the chilly air had time to bite, he cupped her breasts, the combination of cold and warmth causing them to peak against his palms. She moaned, the helpless sound a half plea. He responded by dragging his calloused fingers across the aching tips until all she wanted was to slip to the ground and complete what he’d started.
He must have felt the same because he surged against her, everything about him growing more demanding. His determined touch. The aching tenderness of his kiss. The growing need that communicated itself in every taut line of his body. No matter how much he tried to deny the fact, he wanted her. Just as she wanted him.
But almost as soon as the thought slipped into her head, he was adjusting her clothing. “There’s not enough privacy,” he said in response to her questioning look. “Some other time and place.”
She wanted to protest his assumption, but didn’t dare. If he’d taken their embrace one step further, she’d have followed. Willingly. Joyfully. Instead, she asked the first question to pop into her head, anything that would give her time to recover from what had just happened.
“What about my father?” she inquired. “Will you help me?”
It was the wrong question at the worst possible moment. All expression vanished from his face. “No.” The word escaped, blunt and uncompromising and unadulterated.
She could tell he wouldn’t be swayed. Couldn’t be. Still, she had to try. “Alex—”
He cut her off without remorse. “Enough, Rebecca. Let me make this clear. The money is due tomorrow. If your father can’t pay, he’s going to jail. And I will be all too happy to put him there.”
By going in person to Huntington Manor to attempt to collect the money due the TCC, he was rubbing salt in the wound, Alex decided—both his and Rebecca’s. Not that his tiny epiphany stopped him.
As he turned toward the manor, a sleek black McLaren shot around th
e corner toward him and disappeared almost as fast as it had appeared. But even those few seconds was more than enough time for him to identify the driver.
Paulo Rodriquez.
An ice-cold fear raced through him. Rebecca had warned that she’d find someone to help them out of their predicament. Had she settled on Rodriquez, despite Alex’s warning? And why wouldn’t she? Since he’d turned her down, she’d have moved on to other, more fertile possibilities. And the minute she asked those other possibilities for help and received the inevitable doors slammed in her face, she’d have realized her choices were limited. Rodriquez might have seemed like the perfect solution, despite his warning.
His knock on the door was once again answered by the housekeeper, Louise. This time he was shown directly to the library where he caught the fragments of a heated argument between Rebecca and her father.
Sebastian broke off the instant Louise knocked. “What is it?” he asked, ripe impatience implicit in the question.
The housekeeper opened the door a crack. “Mr. Montoya wishes to speak with you, sir.”
Sebastian swore. “Of course he does. Come on in, Montoya. Why shouldn’t you put the cap on the end of a perfect day.”
Alex gave Louise a sympathetic smile before entering the room. He waited for the door to close behind him before speaking. “That bad?” he asked his nemesis. He didn’t wait for a response. There wasn’t any point. “Allow me to put you out of your misery and make this short and not so sweet. Do you have the money to reimburse the Texas Cattleman’s Club or not?”
“That depends,” Rebecca responded before her father had the chance.
To Alex’s private amusement, both he and Sebastian swore in unison. “How many times do we need to have this discussion, dulzura?” he asked. “This conversation is between me and your father.”
It came as no surprise to either of them that she didn’t listen. Despite the fact that she looked unbearably exhausted and stressed, she regarded them both with a strength and determination that won his reluctant admiration. Now that he considered the matter, everything about her roused a grudging admiration.
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