A Hasty Wedding

by Cara Colter

  Or maybe she had the thought he had been nursing: What if the poisoned water was an act of revenge? One of Joe Colton's many admirers doing payback for Blake's father's attempt on Joe's life?

  None of his conjecture rang true.

  But if it was true, at the very least he could find out who had really done it. If he knew that, maybe he could help her put a stop to those nightmares that had such a hold on her she thought they were real.

  Even if it didn't bring her back to him. Maybe love didn't do that. Maybe love didn't ask for anything in return.

  Rafe knew.

  And if he had to, Blake was prepared to choke it out of him.

  His astonishment at seeing that Holly had beat him to Rafe's was nearly enough to make him turn around, go home and sulk some more.

  But then he recognized Rory's vehicle was there, too.

  It seemed so out of kilter that three of the people he cared about most in the world were sharing something without him, that not even his pride could make him turn around and mind his own business.

  What if she had brought her suspicions to them?

  If she had, it would be better to face it now, turn it around now, before it was too late, than to go home and stew about all the different possibilities that might be unfolding in that house.

  Hell, maybe she was even planning a surprise party for him.

  The momentary warmth and relief that thought brought to him disappeared as soon as he saw their faces. These were not three people planning a surprise party.

  "Do you mind telling me what's going on here?" he repeated, not missing the guilty looks that were passing between Rafe and Rory.

  Nobody said anything.

  "Do you think I did it?" he asked quietly. He was looking at all of them, or pretending to. Really, he was only looking at her.

  And her stunned look told him he was way off the mark.

  "Did what?" Rory asked him, genuinely incredulous.

  Rafe shook his head, looked from Blake to Holly, and got it. Of course. "Never mind," he told Rory, "the man's not thinking straight."

  "Well, maybe you could help me out then," Blake suggested, the silkiness of his tone not masking the threat in the least.

  Rafe sighed, sent Holly an apologetic look. "It's Todd Lamb."

  Holly lowered her head, looked at the hands folded in her lap. Her face was white with pain—and shame.

  "Todd Lamb what?" he asked. Dead? Maimed? Ill? And then, sickeningly, he knew. They didn't think Blake had poisoned the ranch's water. They thought it was Holly's father.

  Blake went to Holly, slid back the empty chair beside her. He sat down and pried one hand out of her lap and held it tight. He wanted to rake her over the coals for not telling him, for not trusting him, but he felt like a fool.

  Rafe had practically told him who it was. Had told him Holly was going to need him to get through it. Why hadn't he figured it out? Her father was behind the contaminated water.

  Rafe was right. Blake hadn't figured it out because he wasn't thinking straight. He hadn't been thinking straight for a long time. For as long as he had loved Holly. When had he started loving her? The first time he'd seen her on the sofa with a little kid on her lap instead of at her desk? Or when she'd started framing those pictures? Or the first time he'd heard her laugh? Or was it after that first real conversation they'd had, and it had gone deep and true?

  When had he first known it?

  That was easy. When Tomas had told him he'd held a knife to her throat, even though Blake had been able to go on denying it for a while longer.

  "So," he said, squeezing her hand, trying to tell her it was all right, "what's next?"

  The discomfort grew in the room.

  Rory spoke. "We're waiting for Kade to get here. Holly's going to wear a wire," he finally said. "She's going to tape a confession."

  Blake stared at his two oldest friends. Well, apparently they weren't thinking straight, either.

  "Not in my lifetime," he told them quietly.

  Rafe shot Holly a look. "Yeah, well, that's kind of what we said, too."

  "Good, we're all in agreement."

  Holly pulled her hand free from his with amazing strength, and looked at him, the shame gone from her eyes. They were snapping green fire.

  "We're all in agreement? I don't think so."

  "Huh?"

  "I'll tell you the same thing I told them. I'm going to tape a confession from him—with or without their help. Or yours."

  "Like hell you are."

  "I'm not asking your permission."

  Blake had the very naughty thought that he couldn't wait to see this side of her personality in bed. The tigress had surprised him. She had really been keeping it a secret that she was part hellcat.

  Then, he reminded himself grimly, his sharing a bed with her again was somewhat contingent on her not getting herself killed.

  "What are you thinking?" he asked her. "It sounds like a script from a bad movie."

  She glared at him and folded her arms over her chest in a way that did not bode well for his veto power.

  He tried a different tone of voice. Patient. Wise. "What you're proposing sounds foolishly dangerous."

  It didn't seem to convince her.

  "It's foolishly dangerous to leave my father running loose. That's what I'm thinking. What's to stop him from repeating his crime? Which of the kids are you willing to sacrifice so I'll be safe forever? One of them? All of them?"

  "Look, these two are both law enforcement professionals. I'm sure they have a plan to nab your father that doesn't put you in such grave personal danger. Don't you? Rory? Rafe?"

  His friends looked at him silently.

  Rafe finally spoke. "He hasn't left a trail, Blake. All we've got right now is a fistful of suspicions and a hunch. The truth is he'd probably have to act again before we got him."

  Act again. Blake felt sick.

  "You should probably know we suspect him in the death of Charles O'Connell, as well," Rory said bleakly.

  Blake let go of a trail of expletives, intended to convey his displeasure to Holly in no uncertain terms. After which she was supposed to back down.

  "I have to do it," she told him. "Do you understand?"

  He took a deep breath and looked into her eyes. He saw the strength there, the absolute courage to back up her convictions. Unfortunately he did understand. And unfortunately, he thought a lot of her having to do this was about her loving him.

  Having to prove herself to him, the same way Blake had felt driven to prove himself to Joe Colton after he'd been rescued from a life of crime, and then again after his own father had tried to kill Joe.

  He understood those demons. And he knew he could not make them go away for her.

  Even so, he said, "Don't do this for me, Holly. You don't have to prove anything to me."

  "I'm doing it for myself."

  He nodded, defeated, and then taking a deep breath, he committed to the path the other three of them were already on. If he couldn't stop her, he had to protect her.

  "I'm in," he said. "Tell me what you want me to do."

  And so they spent agonizing hours coming up with a plan, rehearsing Holly over and over again so that she wouldn't slip up.

  Kade Lummus arrived, a man who inspired confidence. He had several other members of the Prosperino Police Department with him.

  Two things became apparent to Blake. The first was that she probably could get her father to confess. She knew him. She knew the exact combination of ego-stroking and admiration to use. But the second thing was the frightening one: There were too many things that could go wrong, too many variables they could not even begin to speculate about sitting here in the safety of Rafe's kitchen, slugging back pot after pot of black coffee.

  Libby slipped in unobtrusively and kept refurbishing the coffee. Just as unobtrusively, she provided sandwiches and snacks.

  Despite his anxiety, Blake couldn't help but notice how well Libby and Rafe read each ot
her's signs. He thought it was one woman in a million who would prepare coffee and disappear like that, not allowing her curiosity about what was happening in that tension-rife kitchen to get the better of her.

  By the end of that long afternoon, pieces were falling into place. Bumper beepers had been delivered. One had been installed on Holly's car. The other would be attached to the bumper of Todd's car as soon as darkness fell. The tape recorder arrived. And then a surveillance van.

  Blake wouldn't let anybody else touch her. Kade told him what to do. He taped the small recorder to her tiny midriff, trying not to let the touch of her skin drive him wild with remembered passion that only fueled his fear for her.

  Libby, a few sizes larger than Holly, lent her an oversize sweater. The recorder had to be turned on only once, after that it was voice activated. Rafe had her practice over and over again, until she could clear her throat and touch the on button seamlessly, every single time.

  Darkness fell.

  Without a word, Rory took the bumper beeper and left.

  Blake prayed that Lamb's car would be gone, that he would have other business tonight, or that he parked his car where it would be too risky for Rory to crawl underneath it and attach the beeper to the bumper.

  But Rory was back within half an hour. Again, he didn't say a word. Only nodded.

  Taking a deep breath, Holly picked up the phone.

  Rafe grabbed it from her and pressed the code to block the number, just in case her father had caller ID. He handed it back to her, and she dialed her father's number, then put it on the speaker.

  Again, Blake found himself praying. Don't let him be home. If he's home, let him not answer.

  But on the third ring, Lamb picked up.

  "Hi, Dad, it's Holly."

  "I don't think I know anybody by that name."

  It was a joke, of sorts, but Blake saw Holly flinch from the casual cruelty of it.

  "Your daughter?" she said.

  A short laugh. "I know. It's just I haven't heard from you for so long, I didn't remember I had a daughter."

  Tell him the phone works two ways, Blake thought savagely, and then realized Holly was much better at this than he. Because she remembered the point wasn't to get Todd's back up.

  "The crisis at the ranch just kept me really busy for a while," Holly said. "But I'd love to make it up to you. Do you want to go for dinner tonight?"

  Hesitation. Just enough, Blake thought angrily, to make her know he had to debate between a night of watching baseball on television or spending time with her.

  "I guess we could do that," Todd said.

  There was a collective but silent sigh in the kitchen.

  "The Red Herring?" Holly said. "I've heard it's good."

  "By Prosperino's standards or the rest of the world's?"

  A man who found fault with everything.

  "I just heard it was good."

  "All right. You want me to pick you up?"

  Three men shook their heads violently. If they could keep Holly and her father out of vehicles and in public, that would be safer. The bumper beepers were a backup they were all praying they wouldn't have to use.

  Rory had already arranged for them to have a quiet corner in the restaurant, completely private, in case Todd accepted the invitation.

  Their waiter was going to be an FBI agent.

  "Oh, no," Holly said, "there's no sense coming all the way out here. I'll meet you." She glanced at the clock. "Say around six-thirty."

  "All right, doll. I just thought I'd save you some gas money. The way you get paid at that miserable job, I'm surprised you can afford to drive."

  "That's one of the things I want to talk to you about."

  "I hope this means you've come to your senses."

  "I'll see you at dinner, Daddy."

  "Right-o."

  She hung up the phone.

  Rory said it all. He shook his head. "Charming, isn't he? Sorry, Holly."

  Rafe looked at his watch. "Thirty minutes. Let's go over it one more time."

  And they settled in to work.

  "I need a few minutes alone with Holly before she goes," Blake said, as the minutes ticked down.

  Rafe and Rory left the room.

  "You still have time to back out," he told her quietly. He could see she was afraid and at war with herself. Well, he of all people in the world knew what it was to put away any final illusions you had about a parent.

  "I'm not backing out," she said stubbornly.

  "I wish you would have told me about the dream this morning."

  She looked at her hands. "Blake, please believe this. It wasn't because I didn't care for you. It was because—" Her voice faltered. "It was just because."

  He crossed the distance between them and swept her into his arms, covered her lips with his own. Not to convince her not to go, but so that she could carry it within her, like a shield to protect her.

  His love.

  Had he ever said the words before? Maybe many years ago, to his mother. Until he had admitted she was deaf to the words.

  He felt afraid of saying them now.

  And yet he knew he had to overcome that fear. That she needed to hear the words, and that he needed to say them.

  "Holly, I love you."

  Her eyes went very wide, and her mouth dropped open.

  "Are you just saying that?" she asked.

  He smiled. "Those aren't words a man just says."

  She smiled then, radiant, before a different look passed over her face, a look of intense doubt.

  He wanted to erase it by asking her to marry him now, but would that make her unable to focus on the job that needed to be done? Better to wait than to take that chance.

  There was a soft rap on the door, and Rory put his head in. "Show time."

  Blake felt her tremble against him, and then she took a deep breath and stepped back. He looked at her and added courage to the list of attributes he most loved about her.

  He didn't want to let her go. But he knew if he tried to hold her now it would change something between them that could never be repaired.

  Love could never be allowed to diminish what your beloved was. It had to be the force that made them more than they had been before. Greater. Fully themselves.

  Holly was a woman of integrity and honor and courage. If he loved her, he could not be the one to ask her not to be those things.

  So, though he wanted to hold her to him forever, instead he kissed her on the tip of her nose.

  "I'll be right outside in the surveillance van," he told her. "I'll be there for you."

  She smiled bravely. "Knowing that makes it so much easier."

  He wished she would say the words he most needed to hear. What if she never came back and she had not told him she loved him? He could not allow himself to think that.

  He let her go.

  She whirled from him, shoulders back and chin up, and walked out of the room. She accepted some last-minute instructions from Rory, and then went and got in her car.

  The three men got in the van that had been delivered. Blake was impressed with it. On the outside it was unobtrusive. An old gray panel van that said Walt's Plumbing on the side of it. It looked like it hadn't been through a car wash in a long time.

  All the men were silent and tense. Rafe took the driver's seat, Blake and Rory went into the back.

  It was incredibly high tech. Rory slipped on a pair of headphones and turned on a computer.

  "Her beeper working?" Blake asked.

  Rory gave him a look. "You think I'd wait until now to find out?"

  "Sorry," Blake muttered.

  Rory handed him a set of headphones. "Last-minute instructions. This is Rafe's and my gig. You are here for the ride. No heroics. This is not Hollywood."

  Blake scowled at him. "You don't need to tell me this isn't Hollywood. My gut told me a few hours ago. A bucket of popcorn never made it feel like this."

  "You love her?" Rory asked, not looking at him, but
fiddling with something on the computer monitor.

  "Yeah," Blake growled.

  "That just complicates everything. Because I know if it was Peggy going in there I'd be a wreck. And I'd make mistakes. So you leave the thinking to Rafe and me, you got it?"

  "Yeah," Blake muttered insincerely. As if, if he felt her life was in danger, he was just going to sit there and let them call the shots.

  Rory must have seen the look on his face, because he sighed and shook his head.

  "She's at the restaurant," he said, showing Blake the map that had come up on his computer screen.

  Rafe parked about half a block from the restaurant, away from the street lamps. "I'll do visual," he said quietly.

  Rory nodded.

  The time ticked by with excruciating slowness.

  "There's Todd," Rafe said.

  Blake felt his skin prickling. He had to fight down the urge to leap out of the van and go take care of this himself.

  Rory touched his sleeve and gave him a warning look.

  They waited for the tape to turn on. There were several tense minutes of disconnection, and then with a click a tape recorder in the van turned on, the reels began to slowly turn, and Blake heard her voice, strong and clear. He marveled at her light tone. One thing he wouldn't have thought she could do was act.

  She was so damned genuine.

  They chatted for a few minutes about her mother and another mutual friend, and then she brought the conversation around.

  "So, Daddy, how do you like being vice president of Springer?"

  "It's a start," he said.

  "A start?" she said with just the right touch of admiration.

  Todd was happy to fill her in on where he was going next. Right to the top. Had his eye on the president's chair.

  He was a man who loved talking about himself. He hadn't asked Holly one question about her life, had not shown the least bit of interest in her. He ordered for her, without consulting her.

  He had nearly put Blake to sleep, when Holly stepped up the heat.

  "So, Daddy, now that David Corbett has been cleared, have you any thoughts on how the water at the ranch got poisoned?"

  "I think it was just an accident," he said, and the men listening could hear the caution in his voice.

  "An accident?" she asked. "Really? How could a restricted chemical get in the water by accident?"