Flayme snatched up a pair of scissors lying on the counter and eyed his crotch. Slowly, she lifted her gaze. She prayed her eyes looked as fierce as she felt. “The last man who made that offer, I lopped off his dick. It’s lying somewhere on the highway between here and D.C.”
The boy gulped. “The cowboy? You cut off his pride and joy? What kind of sick female are you? Is he still alive?” He crossed his hands over his crotch. “Get out! And don’t come back in here! Hell, I was just making conversation.”
“He isn’t dead…yet.”
“I don’t care! I said get out. Go! Crazy, East coast, scissor-happy-harpy—I was making small talk, no need for you to go all Sigourney Weaver on me and act like I’m some kind of alien.”
Flayme flattened her lips. Damn it! What was wrong that everything she planned the last few hours seemed to go instantly haywire? “I don’t need small talk. I need a phone!”
Her jaw ached, and she immediately relaxed. Flayme narrowed her eyes. Completely aware she must look merciless, she shrugged inwardly. Hell, she felt ruthless. It’d been a damn long night and the day promised to be no better. “Come on over to our room…if you feel lucky,” she drawled, and snapped the scissors a couple of times in warning before setting them back on the counter.
Concealing a grin at the look of horror that flitted across the young man’s face when she worked the scissors, she left, letting the door glide shut behind her. Priceless. That was one irritating and rude young man who lacked a sense of propriety. He’d deserved the bit of payback for his nasty remarks. Sigourney Weaver, indeed.
Seething, she marched across the parking lot. What was it? Did she suddenly have ‘Fuck me’ tattooed on her forehead? “Threesome? Hah!” Feeling heartless as the cold wind whistling up her pant legs, she used the key card and pushed open the motel door. A shadowy movement to her right startled her. “Ahhh!” she barked. Her heart pounded as firm fingers gripped her shoulders, dragged her inside and slammed the door behind her. Pain shot through her shoulders as her arms were wrenched behind her. “How did you get loose?” she demanded urgently. “I know I locked the cuffs.”
“I have my ways,” he said, his voice filled with ice. Duel pushed her onto the only chair in the room, slapped the handcuffs around her wrists, and snapped them around the back spindles. He stood over her, weaving like a tired cowboy after a hard day of roping and branding. “You do something that stupid again, and I swear I’ll give you to the assassin.”
His hair was soaked. His face flushed. He looked as wary as a trapped wolf. Blood trailed down the side of his face.
“God, you look awful,” she declared. “What…assassin?”
“Lady, you make one more attempt to escape, I’ll shoot you in the leg. See how damn well you look and feel.” Then he quietly passed out at her feet, dropping to the floor like a bag of cement.
“What assassin?” Flayme shouted. “And who’s been assassinated?”
But the cowboy was down and out. She had a sick feeling if he died she just might disappear forever, sentenced for life in a Siberian prison or somewhere worse.
Chapter Twenty
Life is a gift, and I try to respond with grace and courtesy.
~Maya Angelou
McLean, Virginia
February 17, Tuesday
Eight hours and thirty minutes after the assassination…
A bit wary of what Sam’s reaction might be as soon as she saw him, Travis plopped down on the edge of one of the high-backed chairs. He looked around, taking in the frilly, sunshine-yellow curtains snuggled between the bay window surrounding the breakfast nook and the round snow-white table.
Hell, he’d give his right nut to be cuddled with Sam upstairs, in what he figured was a sexy-as-hell femininely decorated bedroom. He sighed. No chance of it ever happening.
Instead, he’d remain here, staring at the depressing remnants of her family’s morning meal—dishes, coffee cups, and a cereal bowl with soggy pieces of orange, purple, and pink Lifesaver-shaped circles floating in a scant amount of strawberry-colored milk.
Clearly, this was where Sam shared the intimate joys of domestic bliss. He was the alien here, and if she had her way, he’d remain excluded from her personal life.
Travis eyed the breezy, high-ceiling kitchen. Except for the remainder of breakfast, the room was spotlessly clean. Shiny copper pots and skillets dangled from wrought-iron hooks on an overhead rack above the center island. An amazing amount of maple cabinets filled wall space to perfection. A snow-white refrigerator stood in a nook with a cabinet style icemaker beside it.
Across from the refrigerator, a matching freezer with a basket of artificial grapes on top waited alone like a solitary soldier on guard duty. Above the cabinets and filling every available space were bottles of wine. Different style knick-knacks of grape motifs filled other spaces.
Grapes were the theme, and instead of hanging a curtain on the window above the double sink, Sam had chosen to drape grape vines over a curtain rod. The result was startling, but Travis decided he liked it. It was charming, warm, and inviting. The high ceilings contributed to the impression of lots of open space.
Sam’s home, he thought, and tugged at his tie. Damn, if he couldn’t get used to this. Why the hell hadn’t he remained in the freakin’ car? He shouldn’t have entered her private space without her specific invitation. He’d crossed a line.
Her mother filled an earthen mug and set the steaming coffee in front of him. It was too late to get his ass out.
“Would you like some waffles?” The older woman smiled and patted his hand. “Relax, son, her bark is worse than her bite.”
Travis grinned. “Don’t know about that, Mrs. Brewster. I’ve been bitten a couple of times by her. It was downright painful.”
Sam’s mother looked startled, then she laughed. “Call me Madge. Mrs. Brewster makes me feel ancient. Want some advice? The key to winning Sam’s heart is to not let her make the decision to shrug you off. She’s scared, but she’s worth the chase. Have fun conquering her, but do it gently.”
Travis lifted a brow.
She patted his hand. “Sam will be down in a minute. How ‘bout those waffles?”
“What? Oh. No. Thank you.” Fiddling with a fork on a fiesta-orange colored placemat, Travis wondered what the hell he was thinking accepting Sam’s mother’s invitation to come in out of the cold and have breakfast.
Sam would kill him. Dead. Stabbed. Murdered. And not necessarily in that order. She’d hate him being in her home, invading her privacy. He hadn’t been thinking when Mrs. Brewster asked him in, but now that he did—Travis pushed the cup aside and stood away from the table. Too late!
As soon as he heard the little girl’s childish giggles, he flopped back onto the chair. He refused to miss this opportunity to see Hayley, to judge if she was his daughter. As soon as the child came in sight, his breath whooshed from his lungs. His heart skipped beats, leaving him lightheaded. Oh, dear God—he hadn’t a single doubt left in his mind—which he hadn’t had any to begin with, but this simply proved it.
The child belonged to him, same dark hair, and same deep blue eyes. His daughter. Lord, the little girl was the spitting image of his mother at that age. The lump that settled in his heart nearly took him to his knees. He lifted his head and met Sam’s startled gaze. All the color drained from her face and she slumped against the door facing behind her, as if her legs were too unsteady to hold her up any longer.
“What are you doing in here?” Her voice sounded strained. Her face looked pinched. Lips tight. Eyes narrowed. She rubbed her forehead as if maybe she had the makings of a headache. “You need to go,” she said faintly. “Now.”
“Why?” he whispered. “It’s too late, Sam. Why did you keep this from me? Why should I go?”
“Because I don’t want you here!” Her voice rose on a note of hysteria.
“That’s not what I was asking and you damn well know it. I want to know why you didn’t tell me.”
She glanced away, then back at him. “It’s none of your business.”
Rising to his feet, he bumped against the table, sloshing the coffee in his cup. “Don’t you dare say that to me! I had every right to know, have every right to be a part of her life.” His eyes stung and Travis thought he might embarrass himself in the worst way.
The lump in his chest felt like a block of ice, but God, his eyes burned with unshed tears. He felt utterly destroyed. A child. A daughter. And the one woman in this world he loved had betrayed him in a cruel, unforgivable way. The loss he felt, the ache, went so deep, he didn’t know if he’d ever recover.
“Get out.” Sam’s dark eyes glittered with rage.
Travis stiffened. “I don’t think so. Not ‘til I’m ready.” He clenched his fists at his sides to keep his hands from shaking. Travis shifted his gaze from Sam to the little girl staring at him wide-eyed.
“Hello, mister,” she said in a hesitant voice. “Please don’t be angry with my mommy. She’s a nice lady, except when she makes me go to time out.”
Travis couldn’t swallow past the lump in his throat. God, he was going to bawl like a baby. He knelt in front of her and brushed a sprig of dark hair behind her ear. “Do you have to go to time out very often?”
“No.” She shook her head. Her glossy pigtails swung like pendulums down her narrow back. “I try hard to obey Mommy’s rules, but sometimes I forget to pick up all my toys. I don’t cross the street without looking twice, though, and I don’t speak to strangers. Are you a stranger?”
“No, sweetheart, your mommy knows me…very well.”
“Do I know you? Mommy doesn’t allow men in our home.”
“No, but Grandma does,” Sam said quietly. She eyed her mother with tight disapproval.
Mrs. Brewster looked from her daughter to her granddaughter, then back to Travis. Her face lit up with understanding. “Dear Lord, Sam, I didn’t know.”
Sam nodded. “Neither did Travis…until now.”
Travis clenched his jaw and rose to his feet. “You couldn’t keep something like this a secret forever,” he snapped. “God. How could you do this to me?” He raked unsteady hands through his hair. “I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me.”
“I don’t like it when grownups fight,” Hayley said, her voice quivering.
Travis dropped to his knees in front of his daughter again and tugged her close. “We’re just having a grownup discussion, one that sounds very serious.” He swallowed hard. His gaze left his daughter’s and shot to Sam, but Hayley wasn’t in the mood to share.
“You’re tall,” she said, and took his hand. Frowning, she looked at her mother. “Do you like the tall man, Mommy? I do.”
Sam hesitated, then smiled. “Of course I like him. Mr. Bradley’s a good friend.”
“I wish Mr. Bradley was my daddy. I miss having a daddy. Will you be my daddy, Mr. Bradley?”
Travis died a thousand deaths at her words. His heart clenched and the tears that had threatened earlier welled into his eyes. He squeezed the child’s waist. “I’d be most honored to be your daddy, honey.”
“Okay. Maybe we can play games today. I have to stay home, because it’s a snow day.”
“We have to go. Now,” Sam said in a tight voice.
Travis hugged the child close to his chest, but cut his gaze up at Sam. “I want to see her again.”
“No.”
“Let me rephrase that. I’m going to see her again.”
“No. Let’s go.”
“Sam—”
“Now, Travis!”
* * * *
Castle Rock, Colorado
Eight hours and forty-five minutes after the assassination…
Rafe eyed Lacey’s smooth behind as she crossed the room headed to the shower. His heart exploded with all the love that tied him to this one woman. At this moment, life was perfect. Swear to God, he was never letting anything or anyone come between them.
Reaching for his cell, he pressed the on button and frowned. Five missed calls, all from Danger. Just as he started to hit the return call, the cell chimed its familiar tune of Celine Dion’s I Drove All Night, not a particularly masculine song, but one Lacey loved and had programmed into his cell.
Rafe glared at the phone. Damn, the man simply refused to give up. He hit the talk tab. “Yeah?” Irritation threaded his voice. He was fed up with Danger and the way the man continued to intrude in the life he was building with Lacey.
“What the hell have you been doing? Why didn’t you answer my calls?” Danger demanded.
“I’m a newly married man,” Rafe retorted. “What the fuck do you think I was doing?”
A long silence. “You enjoyed that. Didn’t you?”
“What? Informing you I just finished making love to my wife for the fourth time tonight or that yeah, it felt damn good and I enjoyed it immensely? And you can do me the courtesy of not ringing my phone before daybreak!”
Danger growled on the other end. “You bastard!”
Rafe raked fingers through his hair and released a long breath. “Look, no. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, any of it. What goes on between Lacey and me is our private business. But you caught me by surprise. I don’t have to answer when you call, and neither does she. Understand, Danger, Lacey’s my wife now. Leave us alone.”
“The way you left us alone?”
“I did leave you alone. You insisted I become a part of your life. You invited me into your home, repeatedly. You invited me into Lacey’s bed. Don’t bellyache now that your plans all worked better than you ever dreamed. So as I said, leave us alone.”
“I’d love to, but I need to speak to her. It’s urgent.”
“No.”
“Damn it, Rafe!”
“My God, haven’t you done enough to her? Caused her enough pain? No. I won’t let you come between us. You nearly destroyed her once. I won’t watch you do it again.”
“You came between her and me.”
“I would have walked away. I did walk away, several times. You put me in the middle, and it’s exactly where you wanted me. Jesus, Danger, you practically told me to fuck her. What the hell is your problem? What’s so damn urgent you think you have the right to call and harass us?”
“Let me talk to her.”
“She’s in the shower. If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll join my wife there and wash her back.”
Another long silence, followed by the sound of a rough swallow. “Rafe. Please. I wouldn’t call if it wasn’t important.”
“I think you would. I think you knew damn well what we were doing, and you couldn’t stand the thought that I was making love to Lacey. Get on with your life and leave us the hell alone!”
“It’s true. I can’t stand the thought of you touching her, but this has nothing to do with my feelings for Lacey. Smitt Davis is alive, and he’s here.”
Rafe tightened his hold on the cell and drew a shattered breath. “It sounds like you have a problem on your hands. What exactly do you expect me to do about it?”
“Bring Lacey back here.”
“Fuck, no! Are you insane? How could you even think I’d agree to that?”
“You have to,” Danger insisted.
“No, I don’t. Don’t call my number again!”
“Don’t hang up! For God’s sake, Rafe, you have to bring her back to Rimrock. He killed one of the paints. Smitt was in my barn, and he killed one of the mares. He left one of his bloody notes. He wants Lacey back here or he’ll track her down. He knows you’re headed to Texas with her.”
“How does he know that?”
“I don’t know, but he does. She’ll be safer here.”
“She won’t be safer there. Hell, he’s there, right under your nose and you can’t catch him. How could she be safer?”
“Because she’ll have you and me to protect her.”
Rafe snorted. “Yeah, that worked so well for her last time.”
“Plus, we’ll have the Remingto
ns.”
“Jace is out of commission. You know that.”
“Yes,” Danger agreed, “but I’ll contact Duel. He can bring in Wild.”
“Isn’t Wild still in Australia?”
“Shit. Yes. I forgot. But he’ll come home if I call him.”
“Right, because you and he are such good buddies. Wild isn’t going to stop searching for his sister to come home and protect Lacey.”
“I swear Lacey will be well guarded.”
“I said, no. I’m not setting my wife up as a target to trap Smitt Davis. Are you mad? She could get kil—”
“Yes. Take me back.”
Rafe jerked. He eyed his wife, frowning. She stood there, a towel around her absorbing the water dripping down her smooth shoulders. “Sweetheart, no.”
“It isn’t your decision. It’s mine.”
“Rafe—” Danger’s voice cut through the haze and the instant reaction of his body to Lacey’s near nudity. “You have to bring her back.”
Lacey dropped the towel and stepped into the white thong she’d laid out. Rafe coughed and punched the off button. Flinging back the covers, he sat up on the edge of the bed. “I don’t like this.”
She glanced over her shoulder, grinning. “Which part? The fact I wanna go back or that I’m dressing or—”
“Well hell, you know I’d keep you naked every minute of the day if I could. I don’t like taking you back to Rimrock,” he growled.
“Noted. And I’ll work on the staying naked part.”
“This is Danger’s way of getting you back in Rimrock.”
She clipped her bra in place and yanked on a pale blue sweater. “We aren’t returning to Rimrock for Danger’s sake, but because of what Smitt Davis did to my son, our baby, Anna, Jace, Kaycee, and God knows how many others. We have to stop him, Rafe. Don’t you see? He’ll never go away, not if we don’t take him down. I will not run away or live my life in constant fear, looking over my shoulder, always wondering if he’s two steps ahead or behind me.” She placed a protective hand across her belly. “If I’ve been lucky enough to conceive, I won’t let that monster take another child from me. Our child.” Tears sparkled in her eyes. “I can’t lose another baby, not because of him.”
Playing For Keeps (Montana Men) Page 25