by Joanna Wayne
“No one else needs to die, Louise. You’ve taken enough revenge. Think about what you’re doing. Stop the killing.”
“I will, after you’re dead. You’re the last one. I’ve run out of money. That’s why I have to kill you myself. Strange how much I’m looking forward to it. Once you’re dead, maybe I can sleep at night.”
Louise was mad, far past reasoning. Brit had to find a way to stop her. “You won’t get away with this, Louise.”
“Oh, but I will. Thanks to you, Melanie is already in jail for hiring Clive Austin to kill you. When they find you dead, they’ll be convinced she hired someone else to kill you. Case solved.”
“Cannon knows you were here when he left, Louise. If you pull that trigger, he’ll know it was you who killed me.”
“Cannon saw me in tears, weeping over an argument with my husband. An argument I staged and pushed until Aidan walked out on me. He’s done it before. He always comes back. He’s a good man, not a cheat like your father.”
“Hand me the gun, Louise. We were so close once. You don’t want to kill me.”
“I have to kill you. You must see that. But you’re lucky, Brit. It will all be over for you in a matter of seconds. You can’t imagine how many nights I’ve cried myself to sleep, praying that I would never wake up.”
No. She couldn’t die. Not like this. She had to be there for Kimmie. She had to tell Cannon how much she loved him.
Brit scanned the room, looking for a distraction, a weapon, for anything to give her a fighting chance.
She lurched for the heavy glass lamp and hurled it at Louise just as she pulled the trigger. The bullet hit the lamp. Sharp shards of glass rained down on them. Louise howled and grabbed her right eye. Still, she kept coming at Brit, one eye bloody, the other open, the pistol poised to shoot.
I love you, Cannon and sweet Kimmie, I love you so much. I don’t want to lose you. This is not the way this was supposed to end.
Chapter Nineteen
Cannon stopped for gas one block from the entrance to I-45 North. He still couldn’t shake the unwanted anxiety or get the case against Melanie Crouch out of his mind. He agreed she was a suspect and should be in jail, but there were far too many assumptions for him to fully buy her guilt.
And too many unanswered questions. Why bury your wedding album for symbolic closure if you were still holding a murderous grudge against the cop who arrested you for killing him? Why waste your money on hiring a killer instead of using it to support you in paradise for the rest of your life?
And then there was the comment tying the attempted murder to Brit’s father. From what he’d heard, there were no apparent ties between Clive Austin or Melanie Crouch and Chief of Police Marcus Garner. No reason to suspect Melanie knew Sylvie was Brit’s sister.
They should be looking for someone like Louise McIntosh, who hated Brit’s father and knew the truth about Sylvie and Brit’s relationship.
Someone like Louise.
Truth hit with the force of a hatchet, the blade landing right in the center of Cannon’s heart. He jerked the gas hose from his tank, jumped in his truck and took off. Someone yelled at him from the service station. They could damn well stick the hose back in the pump themselves. If his fears were right, every second counted.
He turned the corner on squealing wheels as adrenaline rushed through his veins. Louise’s car was still parked in the driveway.
For once he prayed his instincts were all wrong, that Brit and Louise were having tea and talking about the rotten way Aidan had treated his wife. The praying didn’t stop the grinding fear in the pit of his stomach.
His tires screeched as he swerved into the driveway and stamped on his brakes. He grabbed his pistol, bounded from the truck and raced to the door, prepared to shoot off the lock if it came to that.
His hand was on the doorknob when he heard the booming crack of gunshot followed by a piercing scream. Choking panic balled like acid in his throat.
He turned the doorknob and pushed through the front door, his weapon poised to shoot. A chair came flying at him; he ducked just as he saw Brit pounce on Louise and knock her to the floor.
Brit shoved a glass paperweight into Louise’s face. But Louise kicked and managed to get away just long enough to reach for a gun she must have lost in the scuffle. Before Cannon could stop her, Louise’s finger closed around the trigger.
He jumped over an overturned table and wrestled the pistol from her hand a heartbeat after she fired. Blood shot into the air like an eruption.
Louise fell back to the floor, a pool of crimson blood already pooling on her shirt.
Cannon stepped over her and dropped to the floor next to Brit. “Are you all right?”
“All but my pride, but poor Louise. She’s bleeding badly, Cannon. You have to help her.”
Before he could, four armed cops crashed into the room, weapons pulled. One looked at Brit and then aimed his gun at Cannon’s head.
“Police Officer. Guns down,” Brit ordered. “Suspect down and injured. Cannon and I are unhurt.”
A police officer she recognized stared at her. “Detective Garner?”
“Right,” she said. “I was attacked, but not shot. I think the suspect was hit by her own ricocheting bullet.”
One cop called for an ambulance. Another checked Louise’s pulse and tried to stop her bleeding.
The officer she knew crossed the room to stand over Brit. “You sure you’re all right, Detective Garner?”
“I am, Officer Cormier, thanks to my friend Cannon. If he hadn’t arrived when he did, I’d be dead.”
“How did you guys get here so fast?” Cannon questioned. “I didn’t even get a chance to call you.”
“The detective’s got good neighbors. They called when they said a suspicious car was parked in her driveway. We heard a shot as soon as we drove up.”
“Good work.”
Cannon gave Brit a hand, tugged her to her feet and pulled her into his arms. “Am I going to have to spend the rest of my life rescuing you?”
“Do you have something better to do, cowboy?”
“Yeah, I do. I’ll tell you about it as soon as we’re alone. But don’t worry, I’ll always have your back.”
She stretched to her tiptoes and put her lips to his ear. “Why stop with my back? You can have all of me.”
That was a promise he planned to hold her to for the rest of their lives.
Epilogue
New Year’s Day at the Dry Gulch Ranch
R.J. sat on the front porch swing, watching the action as the Dalton women scurried in and out of the house like ants.
“Are we expecting the Texas Army National Guard at this picnic?” he asked as Hadley passed with a four-layer chocolate cake.
“No, just half the neighbors in Oak Grove. It’s a triple celebration. Don’t want to leave anyone out.”
“Triple. What more is there than New Year’s?”
“You’ll see.”
Leif and Cannon pulled up in Cannon’s pickup truck and started unloading yet another picnic table from the bed of the truck.
“Did you guys buy out the local hardware shop?”
“Nope, all borrowed,” Leif called.
And they’d all be needed. When folks around Oak Grove came to a picnic, none came empty-handed. They’d end up with enough food to stock the biggest restaurant chain in Texas.
Once the table was unloaded, Cannon climbed the steps to the porch and poured himself a glass of cold lemonade that Joni had brought out from the kitchen not five minutes ago.
“Real nice to have you and Kimmie here for the day,” R.J. said.
“Glad to be here,” Cannon said.
“How’s it going trying to take care of her and keep up with the circuit?”
“It has its challenges, but I’m making it—for now.”
“Good to hear. What’s the latest on Louise McIntosh?”
“She’s still in the hospital being treated for complications with her chest in
jury. Her physical situation is improving but her mental condition is deteriorating.”
“I hear hate and resentment can do that to you if you hold on to it long enough. Seems there are lots of ways to ruin your life. I’m just lucky I got a second chance at happiness, however long that chance turns out to be.”
“On that topic, I’ve got something I’d like to talk to you about.”
“I’m nothing but ears.”
R.J. listened to Cannon’s plans, his heart warming at every word out of Cannon’s mouth. If he kept it up, the light jacket Faith had insisted he wear on this incredibly sunny day would start suffocating him.
“I don’t see how that would be a problem,” R.J. said. “This spread’s big enough you can easily carve out a section to breed and raise rodeo stock. Build a place of your own like the others have or move into the big house with me. Lord knows there’s room, and I’d appreciate the company.”
“I’m just in the thinking stages.”
“I understand that, too. Is Brit included in this thinking?”
“She’s a major part of it.”
“How does she feel about that?”
“I haven’t asked her. I’m almost scared to. Her life’s in Houston. She seems to like it that way.”
“Likes and dislikes change like the seasons. Even Kimmie opened her mouth for pureed bananas this morning.”
“You got a point. Now I better get back to work before the guys come looking for me.”
R.J. leaned back in the swing and smiled. It would be plum dandy to have Cannon and Kimmie move onto the ranch. But a man needed a woman.
He closed his eyes and pictured a young lady with hair the color of fresh-mowed hay and a smile that had made him melt just to look at.
His first love. Still alive, or so he’d heard a month or two ago. He wondered what she was doing today and if she still liked double-dip ice-cream cones.
A few minutes later he was snoring away and Gwen was dancing barefoot through his dream.
* * *
BY SUNSET THE last of the guests had packed up their picnic baskets and headed back to their own farms and ranches.
Cannon’s plans were all in place.
Kimmie was spending the night with Hadley and Adam, much to the delight of her four-year-old cousins, Lacy and Lila. The champagne was iced and waiting. Adam had just hitched the ranch’s two most dependable geldings to the carriage. The quilts were folded and waiting.
And Cannon was so nervous it took three times to zip his jacket.
He went looking for Brit and found her standing on the porch looking up at the heaven full of stars.
“It was a perfect day,” she said. “I loved it when Joni and Leif stood up and announced together that there would be a new Dalton arriving in six months. That bought a few whoops and hollers from the crowd.”
“The Dalton clan is definitely growing,” Cannon agreed.
“My very favorite moments were when you and the rest of your half brothers all stood and gave your special toasts to R.J.”
“I don’t think any of us expected he’d break down and cry,” Cannon said.
“There were a lot of tears in that crowd. I was one of the ones who wept to see him so touched and to see you be a part of it. You’ve come a long way in a short time, Cannon. I’m so proud of you.”
“I still have a ways to go. How about taking a moonlit ride with me?”
“In your truck?”
“In the carriage?”
“Just the two of us?”
“Did you want someone else?”
“No. Just you.”
A few minutes later they arrived at Cannon’s favorite place on the whole spread. A hilltop that looked down on a curve in the creek and acres of rolling pastureland.
He slowed the horses to a stop, reached in his pocket and wrapped his fingers around the tiny ring box. He’d mentally prepared himself all day to hear the word no from her lips, but now that he was about to pop the question, he couldn’t deny how desperately he wanted Brit to say yes.
Holding the reins in one hand, he put his other arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. “I love you, Brit Garner. I love you so much I can’t even think straight anymore.”
“I love you, too, Cannon Dalton, so much that I am finally thinking straight. For the first time in my life, I know who I am and what I want.”
“What do you want?”
“I want stars over my head and to be surrounded by laughter and love the way we were today. I want to be part of a family like the Daltons who laugh and cry together, who have their own interests and passions but are always there for one another, too. I want to spend lots and lots of time with Kimmie.”
“Is that it?”
“No, I want love in my heart, passion in my soul and joy in the morning. I want you, Cannon Dalton. I love you so very, very much.”
“Then I guess it’s time for this.”
He got down on one knee in the carriage and pulled the ring from his pocket. “Will you marry me, Brit Garner? I promise not to wear my boots to bed or make you go to rodeos, and not to come home with a hair on my shoulder that doesn’t match my horse’s mane. I promise to always give you the best eight seconds of my day.”
“You’ve got yourself a deal, cowboy.”
“What about the HPD?”
“They’ll just have to learn to get along without me. I gave them my all while I was with them. Now I plan to be far too busy loving you and taking care of Kimmie, at least for now. That’s not to say I might not talk Sheriff Garcia into hiring me one day in the future.”
“I can live with that.”
Cannon pulled her into his arms and when he touched his lips to hers, she knew she was home to stay.
Their pasts had shaped them and the good and the bad would always be part of them. But their love would guide their future. It would be one ecstatically glorious ride.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from MOUNTAIN RETREAT by Cassie Miles.
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Chapter One
Working as a barmaid at the Silver Star Saloon in Austin put Sidney Parker’s eidetic memory to good use. She could easily remember the drink orders for this table of twelve. With thumbs hooked in the belt loops of her thigh-high jean skirt, she faced the group of well-dressed young people who were still wearing their security badges from the state capitol.
“What’ll it be?” she asked.
They could have answered in one voice: beer. But the Silver Star was a designer brewery with products ranging from Amber Angel to Zoo Brew. Sidney mentally recorded the order and gave a nod.
“Wait a minute,” said a woman with platinum blond curls. “Change mine from Chantilly Lace to Raspberry Rocket.”
“Got it.”
“Are you sure? You didn’t write anything down.”
Sidney inhaled a breath and repeated their order. “We’re starting over here with two Pale Tigers, then a Blue Moon, a Lucky Ducky, Thor’s Hammer Lite...” She continued around the table and ended with the redhead. “And you’ll be having the Raspberry Rocket.”
The gang applauded, and she swept a bow before heading to the huge central bar to fill her tray.
Keeping her brain occupied wasn’t the greatest benefit of Sidney’s part-time night job. The country-and-western sound track, the conversation and general cla
mor at the Silver Star provided her with a much-needed distraction during those lonely hours before dawn when tears swamped her pillow.
Behind the bar, Celia Marshall ducked down so the customers couldn’t see her adjust the red gingham uniform shirt to better contain her cleavage. “I swear, I’m about to have a wardrobe malfunction.”
“That’s a problem I don’t have.” Sidney never needed to worry about her cup running over; her breasts were small and well behaved.
“I’d trade my chest in a minute for your mile-long legs.”
“No deal.” Sidney liked being tall. In her cowgirl boots, she was almost six feet. She gave her friend a closer look and noticed the puffiness around her eyes. “Something wrong?”
“Ray and I are fussing at each other again.” Celia shook her head and frowned. “I always feel like a class-A whiner talking to you about man problems. Nobody has worse luck than you.”
“It’s not a contest.” Sidney tucked a strand of her long, straight blond hair behind her ear. “And there’s nothing I can do about my situation. You have options.”
“Any word on Nick?”
“Not yet.” She couldn’t bear to think of Nick Corelli, her fiancé. The mere mention of his name conjured up a mental image of a tall, handsome marine with thick black hair and deep-set eyes the color of fine cognac. Her perfect memory filled in all the blanks as she recalled his wide grin, high cheekbones and strong jawline.
If she allowed herself to think about him, she’d be sobbing in a minute. So she pushed his image aside and asked, “What’s up with you and Ray?”
“It’s all about his stupid hunting plans.”
Sidney listened while she loaded her tray. It was going to take a couple of trips to serve her big table, and the domestic drama of Celia and Ray gave her something else to think about. They were both good people, understandable people with normal relationship issues. Not like her and Nick.
As she stood behind the bar, she spotted two men with impeccable posture and serious expressions enter the saloon. They weren’t in uniform, but they might as well have been marching shoulder to shoulder, wearing their marine dress blues.