The odds were off the charts, in fact.
“Damn it, Colonel.” He glared at Salvatore. “Did you set this up? You want me to crawl back to her? She made it clear she doesn’t want me. She doesn’t trust me. That’s all there is to it.”
“Bull.”
His head snapped back. “What did you just say?”
“You heard me. You’re a smart man. A genius, actually, part of why I work with you. But you’re also manipulative. You use that brain to trick people into doing what you want, while making them think it was their idea. Another reason you’re a great asset to my team. But that kind of game playing does not go over well in relationships.”
“I have friends.”
“Who play by your same convoluted—sometimes sketchy—rules.” Salvatore gripped him on the shoulder in a move that was almost…fatherly? “Here with Hillary, you had a chance at a normal, healthy relationship, and you blew it. Any clue why?”
“You seem to have all the answers today. You tell me.” And God, he actually meant it. He wanted help, to find a way to get her back because the past days without her had been pure hell.
“I can’t give you all the answers. If you want her bad enough, you’ll figure this one out on your own. Which you can do if you use that genius brain of yours and think.” He tapped Troy’s temple. “Why are you here when she’s here?”
“Because you set us up.”
Salvatore shook his head. “Think again.”
With a final pat on Troy’s shoulder, the colonel faded into the crowd.
Could Hillary have actually called the colonel and asked for his help? Why would she have reached out to Salvatore rather than him?
That answer was easy enough. He’d made himself inaccessible to everyone except Salvatore. He’d hidden away in his cave and used all his techie toys to make himself unreachable.
Hillary had told him from the start she had trust issues and he’d pushed that one inexcusable button. It was almost like his subconscious had self-destructed the relationship. For a man of reason, that was tough to swallow.
But love wasn’t about logic. Hell, his feelings for Hillary were definitely not anything rational. He just loved her, and he wanted her. And he intended to do everything in his power to win her back.
Click.
The cool metal wrapped around his wrist. He barely had time to register the sensation before he looked up and found Hillary standing beside him.
Click.
She locked the other handcuff around her wrist.
* * *
Hillary hoped the smile on Troy’s face was for real and not an act for the crowd. A spotlight focused on them as she led him across the ballroom floor. The partiers applauded while the senator took the mic from the lead singer in the band to thank Troy Donavan for his very generous donation.
That part had been Salvatore’s idea—when she’d contacted him begging for help in finding Troy. She’d been surprised to learn from Salvatore that he and Troy actually worked together on a more regular basis—but it made sense. She’d already realized there was more to the man she loved than the superficial. And even as a teen, he hadn’t cared what the world thought of him. He’d been out there crusading in his own way. She was glad now that she hadn’t known before about his work with Interpol. That would have made it too easy to trust him. She wouldn’t have had to search her heart and open her eyes.
Salvatore had even made her a job offer she found more than a little tempting…leave her D.C. position and sign on to freelance with Interpol. She and Troy had a lot to talk about. Thank goodness Salvatore had worked out a plan for her to speak to him. Granted, something a little less high profile would have been easier on her nerves. But Salvatore had insisted this would work best.
Hillary searched for a private corner, but there were people everywhere. Finally, she tugged him down the corridor and into a powder room—and, as she’d hoped, the presence of a man chased both of the occupants out. She passed the bathroom attendant folded cash and said, “Could you give us ten minutes alone, please?”
Laughing under her breath, the attendant ducked out into the hall. Hillary locked the door after them and turned back to Troy only to find herself at a loss.
She’d been so focused on getting him alone and making her gesture meaningful. She’d even planned at least three speeches…all of which flew out of her head now that she was face-to-face with him. So she gave herself a moment to just soak in the beloved sight of him, here, with her again.
God, he knew how to wear a tuxedo, with the white silk scarf and fedora. He stole her breath as well as her thoughts.
Troy held up their wrists. “You sure do know how to make an impression.”
“I wanted to make sure neither of us could run away this time.”
“Good move.” He stroked the inside of her wrist with his thumb. “How is your mother?”
The past couple of days had been hectic, getting her mom settled in with hospice home care, talking during her lucid moments. “She and I have done a lot of speaking again. We’re finding a way to make peace.” As much as was possible, but they were trying. “But that’s not why I’m here tonight. Troy, I want to tell you—”
He pressed a finger to her lips.
“You know what? Hold that thought.” He cupped her waist and lifted her onto the bathroom counter next to a basket of rolled-up hand towels. “I need to say some things to you first. Any objections?”
Smiling hopefully, she held up their cuffed wrists and jingled the cuffs. “You have my undivided attention.”
“For starters, you left this.” He pulled his free hand from his pocket. Her diamond cow necklace dangled from his fingertips. “It belongs to you.”
A smile played with her lips and her heart. “I’m guessing there aren’t a lot of women on the lookout for one of those.”
“It’s a one-of-a-kind, made for a one-of-a-kind woman.” He reached behind her neck, taking her cuffed hand along as he latched her necklace in place again.
The charm still carried his heat as it rested against her chest.
He clasped their hands between them. “You’ve taught me a lot, Hillary Wright.”
“What would that be?”
“I’ve prided myself on being fearless in business, fearless in standing up for a cause, even if it lands me in hot water.” He linked hands with her. “But I botched things when it really counted. When it comes to relationships—when it came to the way I handled things with you—I haven’t grown much beyond the kid who hid in his computer room rather than risk having people let him down. I betrayed your trust, and I’m so very sorry for that.”
There hadn’t been many people in his life teaching him how to trust when he was growing up. “The fact that I’m here should tell you something. I forgive you for not telling me right away, and I hope you’ll forgive me for running rather than talking through things.”
“Thank God.” His throat moved in a long slow swallow.
His eyes slid closed, and she realized how, in spite of his grins and jokes, he really was sweating this every bit as much as she was. She mattered to him.
She rested her forehead against his.
Troy threaded his fingers through her hair. “You’re a hundred percent right to demand I pony up my one hundred percent where you’re concerned. You deserve it all, everything, and I want to be the man who makes that happen for you. I need to tell you something else, about Colonel Salvatore and—”
“Your freelance work with Interpol?”
“How did you…? He told you, didn’t he?”
“Yes, he did, when I asked him to help me find you.”
Troy eyed her warily. “And you’re not upset with me for not explaining it myself? I know how important trust is to you.”
“I’m assuming that kind of work isn’t something you just go around sharing with people right away, but you’ll have to clue me in on the nuances since it looks like I’ll be signing on with the colonel, as well. He says his
recruit list needs some estrogen.”
For once, she’d stunned Troy into complete silence. His jaw went slack, and he started to talk at least twice, only to stop and shove his hand through his long hair. Finally, he just smiled and laughed. He wrapped his unshackled arm around her and spun her once before setting her on her feet again.
“God, I love you, Hillary. No questions or doubts in my mind, I am so in love with you.” He kissed her once, twice then held on the third time until her knees went weak. “You know I’m going to want to be with you on any assignment so I don’t go crazy worrying. Maybe I should be more laid-back, but when it comes to you—”
“You already are everything I could want, and of course we’ll be together, always, so I can watch your back,” she said against his mouth, her heart so full she could barely breathe. “I love you, too, Troy, my totally original man. Mine.”
“Yes, ma’am, I am.” He kissed her, firmly, intensely, holding for at least seven heartbeats. “I intend to work on being the best man possible for you each and every day.” He sketched kisses over her forehead, along her eyes, finishing on the tip of her nose. “I’m a smart man, you know. I’ll figure this one out if you’ll give me the time.”
“How much time were you thinking about?”
“A lifetime.”
She took his hat and dropped it on her head. “It just so happens, that totally works for me.”
* * * * *
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One
Standing in the hospital waiting room, Bria wrapped her arms around herself as she tried to chase away the chills. It did no good. In spite of the fact that it was early June in Texas and already extremely warm, she couldn’t seem to stop shivering.
Terror like nothing she had ever known had clawed at her insides as she’d helplessly watched the angry bull slam Sam into the fence, then pummel his limp body repeatedly with its large head. Thankfully, the bull didn’t have horns and therefore Sam hadn’t sustained any puncture wounds, nor had he been stepped on by the massive animal. Nate and Sam’s foster brothers had immediately jumped into action and diverted the bull’s attention as quickly as they could. But it seemed as if they’d all moved in slow motion and took forever to get the beast away from him so the emergency medical crew could move in and take over.
She drew in a shuddering breath. There was no getting around it, she was responsible for Sam’s accident. If she had only waited for another day, another time to bring the divorce papers for him to sign or if he hadn’t seen her and been distracted, she wouldn’t be standing in the waiting room while he underwent tests to see just how badly he was injured.
But the rodeo was only a two-hour drive from her new home in Dallas and she had wanted to get the papers signed and everything finalized before she started her new job as a marketing consultant for one of the major department stores. If she hadn’t run into a traffic jam on the interstate, she would have arrived with plenty of time to get things taken care of and left before the dangerous bull-riding event even started.
Her breath caught on a sob. It didn’t matter why she had been running late or that she had wanted to get on with her life. Sam was the one having to pay the price for her impatience.
“Have you heard anything, Bria?” Nate called from somewhere behind her.
Turning around, she watched Nate and his brothers hurrying down the hall toward the waiting-room entrance. Tall and ruggedly handsome, all five men were cowboys from the top of their wide-brimmed Resistol hats to their scuffed Justin boots. All six of the boys Hank Calvert had fostered had grown up to be extremely wealthy men, but to the outward eye, they were down to earth, hardworking cowboys who passed up designer clothing in favor of chambray shirts and jeans. Nate was Sam’s only biological sibling, but the other four men they called brothers couldn’t have meant more to them if they’d had the same blood flowing through their veins.
“Th-They just took him…to the imaging department…for X-rays and a scan of his head,” she said, unable to keep her voice from cracking.
Nate stepped forward and, putting his arms around her, pulled her to his broad chest. “He’s going to be all right, Bria.”
“Sam’s as tough as nails,” Lane Donaldson added. The same age as Sam, Lane had a master’s degree in psychology that he used quite successfully as a professional poker player. Bria didn’t think she had ever seen the man look less confident.
Ryder McClain, the most easygoing of the group, nodded. “Sam’s probably already being a pain in the butt about getting out of here.”
“I hope all of you are right,” she said, feeling helpless.
“Can I get you something, Bria? A cup of coffee or some water?” T. J. Malloy asked solicitously. He was the most thoughtful of the brothers, so she wasn’t the least bit surprised that T.J.’s concern extended to her.
“Get some coffee for all of us, T.J.,” Nate commanded, without waiting for her to respond.
“I’ll go with you to help carry everything,” Jaron Lambert offered, turning to follow T.J. Stopping, he turned back to ask, “Do you want anything else, Bria. Maybe something to eat?”
“Thanks, Jaron, but I’m not hungry. I doubt that I could eat anything even if I was,” she said, thankful to have Sam’s brothers with her. They treated her like a sister and she was going to miss them terribly once the divorce was final and she was no longer part of their family.
“Come on and sit down,” Nate said, guiding her over to a bank of chairs along the far wall. When she sat, he asked, “Did Sam regain consciousness in the ambulance on the way over here?”
She shook her head. “I think he was starting to come around when they took him back to the examination room, but they told me I couldn’t stay with him and that the doctor would come out and talk to me when he knew something.”
Unable to leave the rodeo they had coordinated to honor their late foster father, the men had sent her to the hospital with Sam, while they attended to dispatching the livestock Sam’s company had provided for the various events to the next rodeo on the schedule. She knew it had to be extremely hard for them not to have dropped everything to go with their brother to the hospital, but they had done their duty and seen to Sam’s interests when he couldn’t.
“Is everything over with for this year’s memorial rodeo?” she asked, knowing the bull riding was usually the last scheduled event.
“Yup, we got everything taken care of,” Lane said, lowering his lanky frame into one of the chairs. “There’s nothing for you to worry about right now, except being here for Sam.”
“I wish they would come out and tell us something,” Bria said, unable to sit still any longer. She walked over to look down the hall toward the room where they had taken Sam.
What could be taking so long? she wondered as she spotted T.J. and Jaron returning with several cups of coffee. The longer it took to hear so
mething, the more worried she became.
“Still no word?” T.J. asked as he stopped to hand her a cup. He had no sooner gotten the words out, when a man in blue scrubs and a white lab coat entered the waiting area.
“Mrs. Rafferty?” he asked, walking over to her.
As she braced herself for whatever news he came to deliver, Sam’s brothers rose to stand with her. “I’m Brianna Rafferty,” she said, surprised that her voice sounded strong when her nerves were anything but steady. “Is my hus…is Sam going to be all right?”
“I’m Dr. Bailey, the neurologist on call this evening.” His expression gave no indication of what kind of news he had to tell them. “Let’s sit down and I’ll explain what’s going on with your husband.” Once they were all seated, he pulled up a chair to sit across from them. “Sam regained consciousness just before we took him to Imaging for the CT scan and X-rays, which is a good sign. And there was no evidence of broken bones.”
Apparently sensing she needed support, Nate took her hand in his and asked the question that she couldn’t. “Why do I hear a ‘but’ in your voice, Doc?”
“The scan showed that Sam suffered a severe concussion, but there were no signs of bleeding in his brain, which is good,” Dr. Bailey explained. “There is, however, some swelling.”
“What does that mean?” Jaron demanded. With his raven hair and dark demeanor, Jaron was the type of man other men rarely had the nerve to cross.
“There may or may not be complications.” Dr. Bailey met their worried gazes as he continued, “The next twenty-four hours should tell us if the cerebral edema will get worse. If that happens, we may have to take him into surgery to remove a section of his scull to relieve the pressure.”
Bria covered her horrified gasp with her hand.
“I really don’t think that’s something we’ll have to do, Mrs. Rafferty,” Dr. Bailey hastily added. “I’ve been monitoring his condition since he was brought into the E.R. and the swelling doesn’t show signs of worsening. But even if that isn’t an issue, we’ll have to watch for other neurological problems that wouldn’t show up on a scan.”
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