by Laurie Paige
“No. There’s been no sign of further danger. Thanks for the information.” He picked up a sealed envelope and put it in his inside pocket.
“Any time. See you.”
Dev watched the other man leave. He and Sam had been in a couple of tight spots together. He trusted him as much as he allowed himself to trust any other person.
“Hello,” a female voice said, breaking into his reverie. Without turning, he knew she was pretty and sexy and well aware of both those facts. He faced the woman, knowing who she was by some instinct that came from his years of observing people.
She took his notice as an invitation to join him. “I’m Sophia Fortune. We haven’t met, but I know Sam. When I saw you together, I assumed you were the FBI agent on the case.”
Her Texas drawl was soft and disarming. There was a question in her last statement.
She was as he’d surmised—pretty, sexy and confident. The wicked stepmother—Vanessa’s view of the woman—was a well-built strawberry-blonde in a pink silk sheath. Big blue eyes. Pouty smile. Good legs. She looked like a woman who had a lot of things on her mind, most of them unspeakable in polite society.
Her age was hard to determine on looks alone. She took care of herself and knew how to enhance her best features. He knew her to be thirty-nine. He’d read the sheriff’s report on her and her airtight alibi during the kidnapping. He also knew Sam had a man watching her.
“Special Agent Devin Kincaid,” he told her.
“You’re working on the kidnapping?”
“That’s right.” He wondered how much she knew. He raised his eyebrows in question.
“I know this might sound strange, considering Ryan and I are in the middle of a divorce, but I’m worried about the baby. I guess women always have a soft spot when it comes to children.” Her expression of concern seemed genuine. She looked at him as if she were entitled to a full on-the-spot report.
“Yeah, Baby, uh…” He pretended to search for the name.
“The Fortune baby,” she prompted.
“Baby Bryan. Your grandchild,” he added softly. “Until the divorce.”
A pale flush enhanced the color on her cheeks. Anger, he wondered, or feelings for the child as she’d implied?
“I don’t know him,” she explained with a helpless shrug. “He was born after my husband and I broke up. But he’s so young, well, I was naturally concerned.”
“Of course. Unfortunately, there’s no news.”
“This must be tearing the family apart. Matthew and Claudia…well, it’s no secret they’re having problems. The Fortune family can be difficult for outsiders to deal with. They’re a law unto themselves.” Again the helpless shrug and a glance that included him with the group of outsiders.
“Does Sam still have detectives all over the place?” she asked with an edge of sardonic amusement.
“Not since I was brought in.”
She gave him a sweetly sympathetic smile. “Ryan is probably furious that you haven’t solved the case yet. He can be…impatient.”
This last was said in delicate tones, as if she hated to mention this one tiny but fatal flaw of the Fortune patriarch. Dev grinned. “That could safely be said of most of the family.”
Sophia smiled and touched his arm companionably, just the tips of fingers, then she withdrew. “I’m sure you’ve observed that often in the two weeks you’ve been there. They expect their wishes to be carried out at once.”
“Hmm,” he said.
She took that for agreement. “I tried hard enough to please the whole clan, but it was wasted effort. I never felt part of them. I suppose I wasn’t good enough. I was a nurse, you see, before my marriage. Some of us had to work for a living.”
In making a bid for pity, he had to admit she was good. Her sorrow looked convincing. Maybe it was. Maybe she regretted losing her hold on the goose that laid all those nice golden eggs for her—the town house in Austin where she entertained politicians and rock stars and the younger men she seemed to prefer as lovers, the jewels, the expensive cars and other perks that came with money.
Sophia Fortune had overplayed her hand with her much older husband. She’d lost. However, she wasn’t a woman to give in gracefully, according to Sam, Wyatt, and Vanessa, all of whom were old friends and insiders. He was as much an outsider as Sophia portrayed herself to be.
At the thought of Vanessa, his insides tightened painfully. Less than forty-eight hours away from the ranch and all he thought about was getting back. Not a good thing.
“I must run,” his guest told him, her eyes big with regret. “Please, call me if you hear anything. I really am concerned.” She handed him a card.
“I will,” he promised. He glanced at the card, which contained her address and phone number, and stored it in his inner pocket along with the information Sam had collected for him. He stood politely when she did.
Tears filled her eyes. “I’ve heard that few children are recovered alive after the first twenty-four hours. It’s so sad.”
He didn’t move when she stepped forward, then leaned against him as if overcome with grief. He handed her a napkin and moved to the side.
She recovered her poise. “I must go.”
He waited until she finished her farewells and left, then sat when she was out of sight and sipped the fresh coffee the waiter had brought while they had talked.
“Interesting,” he murmured after a long, thoughtful period of mulling over their conversation. The woman had wanted information. She’d used all her charm to that end.
When she’d pressed her card into his hand, there had been an invitation in her eyes. Her allure was all surface sparkle and flash, though.
A picture of Vanessa sprang to mind. Her freshness. Her lack of guile. Her surety that they were meant for each other. That would last about two months, he figured. Then she’d grow tired of the novelty and return to her rich friends. Where she belonged.
Seven
Vanessa hung up the phone and paced from window to window in her room. Sunday had come and gone. It was now late Monday afternoon and Dev still hadn’t returned.
Two friends had called to say they had seen him in San Antonio at one of the riverwalk cafés. With Sophia.
An unrealistic sense of betrayal beat through her blood. She had no right to feel that way. He’d never promised her anything.
She swallowed hard against the tears that clogged her throat. What was it within her that always expected things to turn out wonderful? It was time she learned differently.
Her grandfather, her mother, Uncle Cameron—life had changed with each death. Sophia had snagged her father and life had become more difficult with each passing year. Matthew had found his true love, only that wasn’t working, either. Her father’s divorce, the kidnapping, all contributed to a sense of foreboding about her family’s future. The ranch, always a safe haven, had been invaded.
And then there was Devin Kincaid, their shining knight with the tortured eyes, sent to find the baby and restore order in their disarrayed lives.
But he didn’t want to be involved in their messy problems. He wanted to do the job and leave. Who could blame him? She sometimes wanted to walk away, too.
But she couldn’t. This was her family, the only one she was likely to have. The tears pressed closer. She pushed them back. She would not cry. She wouldn’t.
A shadow moved across the window, startling her. The rapid tattoo of her heart told her who it was before she heard the door open and close in the next room.
She hesitated but a second, then went to the connecting door and knocked. She heard the pause in his footsteps before he came to the door and opened it.
“Have you learned anything new?” she demanded.
“No.”
“Perhaps I should call Wyatt and ask him.”
Dev shrugged.
“I won’t be left out. This is my family—”
“And you just have to be in the know, is that it?” he broke in, anger in his eyes. “
Here, this is some information Sam Waterman got for me. Maybe you’d better check it out and tell me what the clues are.”
Startled, she took the envelope and opened it. After looking it over, she frowned at him. “You had Sam investigate everyone here, the family, employees, everyone.”
“That’s right.”
“Why?”
“It should be obvious. To see who needs money.”
She sat and read through the list more slowly. The information was complete, right down to their individual bank accounts. She smiled faintly. “Uncle Clint has gambling debts. I didn’t know that, but it’s no surprise. He’s always been kind of wild. Sophia always needs money. Cruz, Rosita, and Ruben are doing well.” She handed the list back. “This is an invasion of privacy.”
Dev raised an eyebrow as if mocking her sudden reticence. She didn’t want to know the intimate details of other people’s lives, she realized, which was probably odd for someone studying to be a psychologist.
“Afraid of knowing the truth about your friends and family?” he asked, as if reading her mind.
“Yes.”
He seemed taken aback at her honesty. After placing the envelope on the writing desk in his room, he stripped out of his jacket and tie, then kicked off his shoes. Sitting in an easy chair, he studied her for a long while.
“You’re sad,” he finally said.
“It never goes away. Sometimes I think I’m becoming afraid of life.”
“Poor little rich girl. Your father’s money can’t always smooth the path, can it?”
“Don’t,” she whispered, her throat too tight to speak. “Maybe I deserve it, but don’t be sarcastic. Please.”
She pressed her forehead to the door and sought control. After a long moment she spoke. “A couple of friends called this afternoon. They had lunch in San Antonio yesterday. Sophia was there, too. With a man. The description sounded like you.”
“Are you asking if I was there with her?”
She hesitated, then nodded.
“I was.”
The admission speared through her like a burning brand. “You shouldn’t—” She stopped abruptly as she heard the accusing words fall from her lips.
His hand on her shoulder spun her around to face him. His gaze was furious, but his tone was mild. “Are you warning me to stay away from her?”
“I…” She wasn’t sure what she was trying to say. “She uses people. She’s dangerous and vindictive. She would use you to hurt us if she could.”
“Is this jealousy talking?” he demanded, his voice deceptively soft.
She searched in her heart and was troubled by what she found. “She came between my father and the rest of the family. She hated it when he brought us presents or paid attention to any of us kids.”
“I’m not your family,” he reminded her. “That one incident between us…it wasn’t a promise of anything more. There are no ties between us.”
She felt the sweetness of their time together shatter like a Christmas angel of spun glass. She lifted her chin as the tears burned and burned behind her eyes. “I know.”
Dev turned away, ashamed of his cruelty. Anger and need ate at him. He knew better than to expect anything from life, yet she made him want to grab whatever he could, to take the moments she offered and to hell with anything else. But life had a way of catching up with a person, and with it, the grief that came of believing in promises.
“Do you?” he challenged, not letting himself back down and take her into his arms to try to erase the unhappiness in her eyes. He hadn’t been able to do it for his mother or his partner’s wife.
“It was only an interlude.” He wondered who he was trying to convince, her…or his own heart.
“You’ve made that clear,” Vanessa said softly.
“But you don’t believe me.”
The silence palpitated between them as he waited for her answer. “No,” she finally admitted.
Need and desolation ate him. “This conversation is pointless.”
“It isn’t,” she quickly denied. “I just realized—you’re a coward, Special Agent Devin Kincaid. You’re afraid to share yourself with anyone. You’re afraid of the feelings between us. The question is—why?”
He told her the blunt truth. “Because it will get messy at the end, when one of us wants to be free and the other won’t let go. Because I’ve never seen a happy-ever-after in this life. Because there isn’t such a thing.”
“I see. I really do.”
He touched her temple with one finger. “You see through that rose-colored cloud the poets talk about. You’ve led a sheltered existence—”
“Does it always have to come back to my family’s money?” Vanessa demanded, impatient with his reasoning.
A ten-foot-high chain-link fence went up around him. He dropped his hand and the moment of tenderness disappeared.
“It isn’t the money. It’s your whole way of life. Your family is hardworking and decent, but you don’t really know the world. You’re young and pampered and…a delight… I’d like to take everything you think you want to give, but I’m trying to be decent about this, too.”
The moment stretched into an impasse. “That isn’t the problem.” With that, she turned and walked out, quietly closing the door behind her as she left her room.
She headed for the stables before she did something stupid. Such as cradle him in her arms and soothe the hurts that drove him inward, angry with himself that he had slipped and let need take over his heart for one wild moment. She leaned against the railing, hating that he had been hurt, hating the cool logic he used against them…
The black sniffed at her hair, then backed off and tossed his head.
“Okay,” she said, matching his restless mood.
She went to the tack room and brought out a saddle. The horse pranced sideways, then stilled as she talked softly. She tossed the blanket and saddle on, then cinched up quickly. In another second she was astride the stallion, and they were off into the gathering twilight, gaining speed until they flew with the wind, a tornado of need driving her on into the dark.
Dev paused near the fence. The figure leaning against the post wasn’t Vanessa.
“She’s gone for a ride.” Cruz spoke up, the night shadows carving harsh angles into his face, highlighting the curve of high cheekbone.
“On the gelding?”
“She took the black.”
“You let her out on a wild stallion at night?” The fury was controllable, but barely.
The white teeth flashed in the shadowed face. The tone, when he spoke, was sardonic. “You ever try to tell a Fortune not to do something?”
“You could have stopped her. She would have listened to you.” He said this as a hope, not a surety.
“Like she listened to you?” The horse trainer nodded toward the woods and the cave where the limestone bluff rose above the creek. “You know where she is. Should I saddle a mount for you?”
Dev wanted to wade into the handsome, mocking face of the ranch hand with both fists. He wanted to hit out at something, anything…
No. He wanted to hold a certain sweet vixen in his arms and gaze into eyes that promised bliss and forever and all the good things he’d missed. He hit the rail with the heel of his fist.
Walk away, his conscience warned.
Can’t, another part answered.
He gazed at the woods. They seemed as dark and lonely as he felt inside. But he knew where light existed, where warmth waited for him to stroll up and catch it in his arms.
Vanessa. The stubborn part of him supplied the name.
He walked into the stable and saddled up. Perez handed him a saddlebag when he came out. “She’ll need food,” the man said, his face disclosing nothing.
Dev nodded. The gelding was eager to be off, and headed for the woods without direction. Dev settled into the easy rhythm of the horse and let the roan follow the trail the stallion had taken.
At the clearing, the black shook his bridl
e and resumed cropping grass around a boulder. The gelding chose another spot and did the same when Dev dropped the reins to the ground as Vanessa had taught him to do.
He walked up the path along the ledge.
She sat at the edge, her feet dangling over the three-story drop of the ravine. He did the same.
“Your grieving place,” he said.
“Sometimes, yes.”
Her smile was quick, beautiful and sad. He found he couldn’t stand that. He clenched his hands on the sharp pointy jags of the ledge and held on.
“You shouldn’t have followed,” she told him.
“I know. I was worried about you.”
“Ever the gallant protector,” she said softly, wry laughter overlaying the despair.
He heard both. “I never meant it to come to this.”
“You never meant to hurt me. I know.”
Her words absolved him of guilt, but made him feel worse. “You don’t understand, Beauty.”
The word came out an endearment, recalling her reference to the Beast in the fairy tale. He hadn’t meant that, either. He heaved a sigh. This wasn’t going to be easy.
“Try me, FBI man.”
That almost brought a smile. She was so sure they could work things out, but she didn’t know and he couldn’t explain. He only knew it was impossible, had always been, would always be. From the moment they’d met, from that first meeting of the eyes and the lovely verdant promise in those magic depths, he’d known he was going to fall for her and that it would be a lifetime and it wouldn’t work.
But she didn’t know that.
That Fortune confidence, it was part of what he loved. What she loved, what she saw, wasn’t him, but a sweet and foolish notion born of romantic fantasy. If he was that fantasy for her, then he would have to live the part. For as long as it lasted.
“When you look at life too closely,” he wisely explained, “it pokes you in the eye with a sharp stick.”
“I know about disappointment. I understand how it feels to keep getting your expectations knocked down—”