Secrets and Lace (Lonely Lace #2)

by Bonnie R. Paulson

  “Amelia. Ronan. I checked on you with Doctor O’Donald last night. I’m glad you’re fine.” He paused like he expected her to thank him or comment or something.

  But he wasn’t exactly brother-of-the-year and she didn’t feel like stroking his ego at the moment. She’d almost died of hypothermia the day before and hell, it was seven in the morning for crying out loud. She outwaited him in silence.

  He continued after ten seconds of extremely uncomfortable quiet. “So, I need to get some information about the men who took you. It sounds like the Caracus gang, and I have a private investigator looking into things. However, I have some pictures I could really use your help identifying. Do you think you could come over before breakfast?”

  She paused. Why did he want her to come over? So soon? Things with Ronan usually had more of a double or triple-edge to them so that he could get the maximum cut from his efforts.

  He cleared his throat, the horrid coughing sound loud and abrasive. In her ear. At seven AM. Really? He continued. “We also have the situation with my nephew to discuss, don’t you think?”

  As usual, any mention of Mac sent her hackles up. Not that they needed a nudge at that point. She swung her legs to the edge of the bed and tapped the floor with her toes. “Why don’t you come over here, Ronan? I’m not sure I should go anywhere by myself. Slate still isn’t feeling up to it and I don’t think…” She couldn’t say anything about Robbie, he’d left yesterday early-evening and she hadn’t seen or heard from him since. Anxiety over leaving the ranch so soon mixed with nerves that she’d see Robbie again shortly. She had so much to say. She hadn’t slept much the night before with her mind conjuring up all kinds of possible scenarios in it where he said he loved her still and she did the same and they were happy forever. But each and every one had some part where he left at the end, and she remembered he’d disappeared again.

  Story of her life.

  Ronan broke through her reverie. “I’ll come pick you up. Things aren’t good with the MacAllisters and now that Robbie’s back in town… Let’s just say I might kill one as soon as see one of those bastards after the crap they pulled yesterday, you get what I’m saying?” He bit off the last of the words, showing rare emotion. Her brother, always the hardest man to read but once he loved you, it was always – even in a fight.

  She sighed, irritated but sympathetic. The MacAllisters were loyal to a fault as well. “Okay, yeah, that’s fine. If you’ll come get me, that’d be great. I’ll wait outside for you. Twenty minutes, Ronan.”

  “Yep.” And he hung up. Man of few words but so many more schemes.

  The bath the night before, brief as it’d been, had washed the dirt from her trip through freezing hell. She needed to wash her face and brush her teeth. The routine would help wake her up.

  She stretched as she climbed from bed, wiggling her toes and arching her back as she tested herself for any lingering effects of the hypothermia. Becky had said something about hitting a point where recovery took an extreme amount of time – but before a patient hit that point, even though they might be bad, they had the potential to recover very fast. Pleased to find that she might not have any residual symptoms of the cold, Amelia rushed into the bathroom. She’d be hanged before she’d make Ronan wait in the driveway.

  ~~~

  Using the chrome handle, Amelia opened the passenger side door to his truck. Looking up at her brother’s smiling face, Amelia couldn’t help wondering what the heck was so funny. “Hi, you’re late.”

  He shrugged. “You don’t need to bust my balls, Ames. I had to check on a few business things, okay? Come on.” He offered her a hand and helped her into the plush leather cab. With Ronan everything was better than the best.

  They filled the short ride to his home with stilted conversation about the weather, her health, how big Mac was since he’d started helping Becky in the kitchen with cutting olives and making sandwiches.

  “Do you really think that’s smart, Amelia? I mean, he’s only three. He could really hurt himself playing with knives.” Ronan parked the truck beside his barn, turning off the engine and facing her. “You need to be more careful with him. He’s the only James heir.” He leaned across the seat and pulled a large manila envelope from inside the dash compartment.

  Rolling her eyes, Amelia pushed on the door and pulled the handle at the same time. Over her shoulder, she said. “He’s my son and he’s almost four. He needs to practice more independence. I would think you would get that – being a James and all.” Take that, big brother. Jeesh. The last thing Amelia needed from Ronan was a dang lecture on how to be a mom. He wasn’t even a girl, let alone a parent. His arrogance irritated her, at the same time reminding her why she didn’t live with him. Domineering ass.

  She headed toward the house, tucking her dry hair behind her ear. In the early morning chill, she wished she’d made Ronan wait long enough she could take a shower, but she wouldn’t have had time to dry her hair. Even though she rarely dried it, the day after being soaked and in the cold air wasn’t the smartest time to return to the bad habit. It’d be nice, if she didn’t see Robbie before she had a chance to clean up and do something with her makeup and hair. All she’d thrown on was a light green three-quarter sleeved shirt and some worn jeans.

  “Hey, this way.” Ronan waited for her to turn around and then jerked his head toward the barn. He carried the package under his arm like a large football.

  She scrunched up her nose. “Why? Is Bethany still sleeping?” Her sister-in-law had never impressed Amelia but what did she do? Ronan married her. She was kind of stuck with the woman.

  “Yeah, but I’ve started keeping a lot of my business in here. There’s something special about my own space, you know?” He joined her at the barn door, opening it and waiting for her to pass.

  The smells of the James’s barn hadn’t changed. Her own father had kept a modest bar in the corner, but by the looks of things, Ronan had expanded that idea, allowing more whiskey and brandy to fill the air, mingling with hay and the pungent, earthy aroma of Alfalfa and sweet oats.

  Ronan guided her inside, closing the door behind them. She stepped forward and tripped. Reaching out, she grabbed her brother’s arm. “Oh my word, sorry. I —” Looking down, she stopped. A wadded up shirt had entangled her feet. “Why would you leave clothes here, Ronan? Turning into a slob?” Disbelief warred with confusion. Her brother had his own case of obsessive compulsive disorder, like a brand of cologne, and he’d never leave a mess.

  He shrugged. “I don’t. You know I’m fastidious.” And he was. He’d prided himself on military-perfection since he could stand – or so their mother had always said.

  Amelia bent and grabbed the shirt. Something was off. Extremely off. Half-way into the building against a wall, Ronan flipped on some lights to dissipate the early morning shadows. A pair of dark pants lay where they’d fallen beside the ornate bar on the other side of the stalls.

  One horse blew air past its lips from a stall by Ronan’s office. The rest of the stalls seemed uncommonly empty. “Where’s the stock at?” Amelia had always loved the James’s family brand of horses. They were uncommonly strong like quarter-horses but beautiful and wild – even after being broken.

  Ronan walked further into the barn, talking over his shoulder. “At the vet.”

  Amelia rolled her eyes. Ronan refused to pay Slate for veterinary services because they couldn’t stand each other. A woman between two men could ruin any possible friendship that might have been there. Poor Kelsey hadn’t seen either of them coming.

  “I have to tell you, this place isn’t as clean as I remember it.” Amelia followed Ronan, absently glancing around the interior. He’d never replaced the ugly green paint. Something he and their dad had put in together a month before their parents had died.

  Ahead of her, Ronan peeked into the middle stall on the left and stopped. He leaned his arm on the door post and inhaled long and slow.

  Instinct held Amelia back from joining him
there.

  He glanced at her, disgust marring his features. “Come on, Amelia, you might want to see this.”

  But something told her she didn’t.

  “Amelia?” Robbie’s voice bounced off the wood and cement, reaching her with a surreal boom at the end, like coming through a long tube.

  She stepped forward. What was Robbie doing there in Ronan’s barn? She had to be hallucinating. When she got home, she’d call up Becky and ask if that was a side-effect of some cases of hypothermia.

  A rushing in her ears almost drowned out Ronan’s wife’s reply. “My bitchy sister-in-law is here? Oh, hell. Good morning, Ronan.”

  “Hello, dear wife. Yes, it’s me. And I have a witness this time.” Ronan motioned to Amelia who stared at him with her mouth half-open.

  Against her will, her feet moved up and down, forward, ever forward. Dang it, she wanted them to turn and flee, take her far away. Where was her fight-or-flight instinct right then? When survival was more important than ever?

  Hurried rustling and some oomphs and grunts met her disbelieving ears as she approached the opening to the stall. Not Bethany… please, not Robbie and Bethany…

  She turned and looked, taking in the full scene as it paused like a horrible Jane Austen movie. Clothing in disarray, Robbie stood beside the romantic bed in the corner made with a pile of blankets and filled to the brim with the most seductively-dressed Bethany that Amelia had ever seen.

  Inhaling sharply, Amelia tightened her shoulders and stomach from releasing the tears and sobs that crashed around her. So much for Robbie and her. So much for… whatever she’d hoped for. Her ribs couldn’t contain the pain of her heart ripping in two. Being abandoned for so long, she should’ve known he didn’t care, should’ve been prepared to be hurt again, and should’ve done something to protect herself. But nope. She blamed her damn naïve self on trusting anyone, ever.

  Ronan looked at her, sympathy softening the harsh angles of his face. “Still want to stick to your story that you and Robbie are married? If I were you, I’d ditch his ass as fast as possible. Come home and let’s get Mac raised the right way and ready to take over Lacey Caverns… and soon Lonely Rivers, too.” He reached behind her, wrapping his arm around her back and pulling her into an awkward embrace. “I’m sorry you had to see this, Ames. I can have my lawyers draw up marriage dissolution paperwork along with my own divorce papers, if you’d like.”

  Robbie stepped forward, his eyes focused on her. But Amelia couldn’t look at him or his tousled hair or sheet-creased cheek peppered with stubble. She turned to the side, out of Ronan’s arms and further away from Robbie as well. Robbie moved to stand beside her but didn’t touch her. “Oh, man, Amelia. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you’d—”

  “Be here? Why does that matter? Would you have screwed my wife in a different place? This was classy by the way.” Ronan’s bitter laugh ricocheted back to mock them.

  Robbie spun toward him. “No, damn it.”

  “I think you’ve done enough, don’t you?” Ronan’s biting tone silenced everyone in the room.

  Amelia swallowed the hurt and hope Robbie had crushed. “I’ve seen...” She lifted her head and walked fast – when she wanted to run like hell – from the barn. Ronan always left his keys in the center console and Amelia had no qualms hopping into the driver’s seat and starting the engine. He’d have to pick his truck up later.

  She needed to get the hell out of there. What had she seen? Oh what did that mean for her son? For her?

  Run, Amelia! Run!

  Before the tears on her cheeks burned scars an astronaut could see from space.

  Chapter 16

  Doors slamming outside pulled Robbie from his sleep. He hadn’t gotten much the night before, as he’d worked out how he’d drop the money to Caracus. The man was an evil bastard and might still want to take Johnson’s death out of Robbie’s back.

  But Robbie and Ronan had agreed on the signal – doors slammed hard.

  Robbie moved from the futon in the office to the stall as fast as possible. Bethany stirred as he pushed the blankets around.

  Words muffled, Ronan’s voice carried from just outside the door. He hadn’t said anything about bringing anyone. Maybe he talked on the phone. Just in case, Robbie pulled his shirt back on and started working on the buttons. No wait, he had mentioned needing a witness. Hopefully it was just one of the hands. The last thing Robbie needed was someone from town to spread gossip around.

  A female’s voice joined Ronan’s as they stepped inside. He recognized the timbre of that particular woman’s words. He closed his eyes, nauseous from his chest to the bottoms of his feet. Oh, shit. Ronan had set him up and he had nowhere to go.

  Bethany stirred and suddenly there stood Ronan, blocking the only way in or out of the situation. His smile had an evil twist just at the edges. His eyes mocked Robbie.

  Before Robbie knew what had happened, Amelia had fled, slamming the door behind her.

  From between grinding teeth, Robbie muttered. “You bastard.” Something about dissolving Amelia’s marriage had slipped into his awareness, just before pure anger ripped through him like habanero heat.

  Ronan stepped forward, careful to eye his unfaithful wife and include her in his comments – biting as they were. “Have no doubt that I will get what I want now. I have my witness. And she has hers.”

  Robbie tucked his chin, focusing his gaze hard on Ronan’s face. “What the hell does she need a witness for? You’re the married one.”

  Tilting his head, Ronan murmured. “Interesting. Here I thought this whole time you really might be married to Amelia.” He looked at Bethany, or maybe glared was a better word. “Since I can’t have children, or legitimate ones at that, I’ve worked on obtaining MacAllister James’s guardianship to maintain ownership of Lacey Caverns. Looks like, I might actually get that as well as free myself from a cold wife.”

  He tossed a large cash-laden manila envelope in Robbie’s direction. Reflex and pride demanded he catch the package, even though it required both arms. Robbie bit down on the pain as more tissues tore in his shoulder.

  Ronan pointed at Bethany. “Yours you’ll get per our prenup agreement and not a day before the divorce. Consider your allowance and cards invalid.” He laughed and half-bowed out of the stall. “Pleasure doing business with ya’ll.” He whistled as he ambled out of the barn.

  Robbie breathed in deeply through his nose and out through his mouth. He’d lost Amelia her son. Their son. Ronan would go after Mac like a Rottweiler on steak. Anything to keep Lacey Caverns. He’d always been that way. Even when he’d been in love with Kelsey Redbird and his parents had forbidden the match because of her heritage.

  From the floor, Bethany shoved herself to a sitting position. “Wait a minute. Did he pay you to sleep with me?” She pushed herself up from the ground, standing, and holding onto the railing for stability. She turned unfocused eyes on him, trying to blink away the tranquilizer effects.

  Robbie nodded. “Yes, he did.”

  She stuck her tongue in her cheek and walked toward him, poking a finger in his chest. “Then that makes you more of a whore than me.” Stepping back, Bethany smirked, unconcerned with her smeared makeup and mussed hair or the draping clothes she barely wore. “I hope it’s worth it.” And she left.

  Somehow, Robbie had gone from being certain the plan he’d laid would be perfect for his future to being certain he didn’t have a future.

  Dropping the package like a rattlesnake, Robbie spun and leaned his hands on the wall, focusing on the ground. What did he need to do? There were a lot of things going on that Slate and Amelia had kept from him. He wasn’t quite sure what exactly it all was, but he needed to get to the bottom of the truth before he could do anything to fix what he’d apparently broken. Guilt curdled his insides.

  He stooped to pick up the large envelope. He didn’t need to count it. Ronan had an irritating habit of doing what he said he was going to do. That’s why the thought of him goi
ng after Mac filled Robbie with such fear. If Ronan wanted something, he usually got it – come Hell or high water, or both.

  First, Robbie needed to speak with Amelia.

  He whistled for Revenge. The horse poked his head from the opening above the stall door, snickering and shaking his head. Robbie hefted a sigh. “Yep, I’m a dumbass. Don’t rub it in too much. We need to get back to Lonely Rivers. Now.”

  Tucking the money into his saddlebag, Robbie then drew on his jacket and walked Revenge outside to the empty courtyard, because what else could a person call the vastness of Ronan’s front yard? He climbed onto the high saddle. Clicking his tongue, Robbie moved with Revenge, heading toward Lonely Rivers and the woman he’d never really escaped.

  ~~~

  Revenge’s horseshoes clip-clopped over the pavement of the drive, slowing as they got closer to the house. Robbie didn’t wait until he’d come to a complete stop. He swung his leg over the pommel and dropped to the ground, legs bent to absorb the shock. Standing with his duster stiff to his legs, Robbie looked around. Where would she go?

  Ronan’s fancy-ass truck stood belligerently in the center of the blacktop between the barn and the house, giving no indication where she would have gone.

  Robbie didn’t know Amelia anymore, at least not who she’d become. Where she would go when she was upset wasn’t something he’d be privy to after four years away. But she’d never been a barn girl. She loved horses, but she didn’t exactly run for the outdoors when she wanted to relax back in the day. No, she’d always run for home and tea.

  Since Lonely Rivers was home now, it only made sense that she’d have her tea in the house. Just to be sure, he checked inside the barn where Mac and Slate worked on a baby horse covered in bandages. He looked worse off than Slate did. Neither looked up when Robbie poked his head through the narrow opening. He closed the door before he interrupted them. What he needed to say to Amelia would be easier without an audience.