Secrets In The Shadows

by Sheridon Smythe

  Shaking her head in confusion, Lacy said, “Don't worry about me, Sheriff Logan. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” She stepped away from the door, intending to open it and escape his disturbing presence while she possessed the fortitude to do so. She hesitated, her eyes straying to the bed. What would it be like to share a bed with Adam? So far, his every touch, his every action, met with her body's approval. And her mind—her mind didn't skitter away from him, either.

  Adam turned from the window just in time to catch the flash of yearning in her eyes. She was staring at the bed, her expression so still she looked like a statue. A warm, desirable statue. He commanded his feet to be still, to stay away from temptation, yet they moved in her direction regardless. “Lacy,” he murmured as he reached her. “Lacy, there's something I have to tell you."

  Lacy jerked her head around, her eyes glazed from her wanton thoughts. “What? Oh, I didn't hear you.” She hadn't known he'd approached her. She'd been too busy thinking of them together, on that bed.

  Her face got hot. They both stood, not touching, both struggling against the powerful, almost overwhelming attraction between them. It was like standing near a keg of dynamite. The slightest move might set it off.

  Lacy hardly dared to breathe. Something was on the verge of happening, and she was both excited and frightened by the possibility.

  Adam put his hands behind his back and linked them together. It was the only way he could stop himself from grabbing her and kissing those trembling, sweet lips.

  His movement pulled the material of his shirt apart, exposing a large expanse of his upper chest. Helplessly, Lacy stared at the dark whorls of hair, the deep tan of his skin. She imagined him standing in the sun, his bare chest glistening with sweat, his muscles rippling, hard. She thought of slicking her hands over his back, sliding them around his waist, pressing her lips to the salty taste of his skin.

  "Lacy?” Adam's gruff, commanding voice shattered her fantasy. He growled low in his throat and clenched his jaw. Damn, she'd better stop looking at him like that or he wouldn't be responsible for his actions!

  Lacy blinked. Her chest felt tight, as if she needed a breath of fresh air and there wasn't any to be had in the room. “I—I'm sorry, Adam,” she whispered, feeling strange and light-headed. “I don't know what's wrong with me."

  Her honest confession was like feeding the fire. Adam swallowed and forced himself to step back. “I know what you mean. Believe me, I know. Just don't move, and stop looking at me as if—” He broke off with a nasty oath, one that made her eyes go wide. And Adam knew what he had to do. Lacy Ross wasn't the kind of woman to be trifled with, then tossed aside. He'd never be able to live with that on his conscience.

  Neither would she be easy to forget.

  "Lacy, I won't be staying in Shadow City permanently."

  It took a moment for his words to penetrate the fog in her mind, and when they finally did, Lacy thought she hadn't heard him right. Her shaky laugh bubbled out, followed by a rush of breathless words. “I thought you said you wouldn't be staying, which is ridiculous because why would you take the job as sheriff if you weren't planning on staying?” She searched his tense features, and when they didn't change, a flash of pain hit the region of her chest.

  "I'm here to find out what happened to Sheriff Murddock,” Adam announced gently. He let it soak in for a few seconds, then mentally braced himself. “He was my grandfather."

  Lacy was slow in reacting. Disbelief, followed by bewilderment, chased across her features. “You—You're Sheriff Murddock's grandson?” she repeated faintly.

  Adam nodded.

  "But why didn't you tell me? Does—does my grandpa know?"

  Again, Adam nodded.

  Lacy took a deep breath, suddenly finding it easier to breathe because the sexual tension was slowly being replaced by stupefied anger.

  "I don't want everyone to know yet,” Adam explained, watching her carefully. He knew how unpredictable she could be around him. “I want their honest opinion of what they believe happened that day.” He waited, tensing for her response. What did Lacy think? Did she believe Colt had killed himself? Adam hadn't asked Rusty, because he wanted to see her face when she told him. It was important, although he knew it shouldn't be.

  Her eyes took on a telltale glitter as the full impact of his words sank in. “You've been duping the townsfolk, asking them questions about Sheriff Murddock?"

  Adam frowned at the razor sharpness of her tone. “Don't worry, it hasn't done a damn bit of good so far,” he said dryly. “Every time I ask a question, they change the subject."

  "They believe you're an honest man, Sheriff Logan. All this time they've been singing your praises and you've been sneaking around—"

  Adam cut into her angry spat of words. “I don't see what harm—"

  Lacy didn't let him finish, because she wasn't finished. “You don't see what harm it's done?” She looked incredulous. “When they find out who you really are, don't you think they'll feel foolish? People don't like to be made into fools, Adam.” Her voice dropped an octave, thickened with contempt. “And I'm one of those people.” Tears of anger and hurt burned her eyes, but she determinedly held them back. Adam wasn't staying, had never intended to stay in Shadow City. He was here with one purpose in mind, oblivious to the feelings of those he encountered.

  And what about Ben? Ben worshipped Adam, and when he just up and left, Ben would be devastated. Adam apparently didn't care about Ben or anyone else in this town.

  "A wolf in sheep's clothing,” Lacy hissed. She jerked the door open, knowing she had to get away from him before he saw how much it hurt. She didn't want him to have that knowledge to gloat over. “I said that you were a wolf in sheep's clothing, Adam. It seems I was right."

  She didn't bother shutting the door. She marched straight through the office and out the front door without so much as a hello or goodbye to the wide-eyed cowboys in the jail cell.

  Adam cursed long and loud before stomping into the office. He glared at Brian and Ed, who froze in the act of eating. “You're both barred from this town for a month. If I see you or hear you before then, I'll make you regret you were ever born. Is that understood?"

  They frowned, but nodded, neither brave enough to argue with this big, furious sheriff. “Good,” Adam growled. “Now finish eating and get out!"

  With that said, Adam marched around to his desk and yanked out his chair. The sight of food no longer tempted him, especially since he knew Lacy had prepared it for someone else. It was time to put distractions aside and get down to the business of what had happened to his grandfather, knowing he'd be lucky if the news wasn't all over town by morning. She had been mighty angry with him.

  "Dammit!” he grated out, ignoring the watching men. He'd warned himself time and time again that Lacy Ross was trouble. There should be a lesson to be learned from what had just occurred. Women—one in particular—would only distract him.

  Now it was time to get to work.

  He needed to make a list of people he had met so far, people who might be able to provide a few answers to his questions. With Rusty along, maybe they would loosen up, trust him.

  He wouldn't think about how hurt Lacy had looked. He couldn't let that get in the way of keeping his promise to his mother. There wasn't any reason, as far as he was concerned, for her to be so cotton pickin’ mad. He was just asking a few simple questions about a man who had died a long time ago. A man, he grumbled to himself, who had been his grandfather. She should understand.

  Adam reached for the side drawer of his desk to retrieve a pencil and paper, sitting down in the chair as he did so.

  He froze with his hand on the handle of the drawer as something squished beneath him.

  Something soft and warm. And wet. Slowly, he stood up and frowned at the seat of his chair.

  The remains of a blackberry pie oozed a messy glob onto the worn leather, dripped lazily from the sides and plopped to the hard, planked floor. A blackber
ry pie. Squashed. Ruined.

  Adam knew where the rest of the pie was. He could feel its warm wetness seeping through the seat of his pants.

  Chapter Ten

  "How do you like our little town, Sheriff Logan?” Mary Ann's voice was soft and fluttery. She held her little finger pointed outward when she lifted her glass of wine to take a sip, licking her lower lip as she set the glass down on the table.

  Adam remained unmoved by the pretty picture she made seated opposite him at the dinner table. Mary Ann Silverstone was a charming dinner companion, but he had not accepted the invitation with courting in mind.

  With a sincere, but distant smile, he replied, “The town is like yourself, Miss Silverstone. Charming.” To his relief, Mary Ann accepted his compliment and began eating again, giving him a brief respite from her endless questions. He smothered an impatient sigh and shot a quick, assessing glance at Graham Silverstone, who sat at the head of the table. At the moment, the distinguished elderly man was occupied with slicing the meat from the superbly cooked stuffed pheasant on his plate.

  The meal was delicious, but for once Adam had no interest in food. He couldn't wait to get down to the business of questioning Graham about his grandfather, but the damned meal seemed as endless as Mary Ann's questions.

  To occupy his thoughts, Adam recalled his first formal introduction to Graham Silverstone. Several days ago, during a leisurely round about town, Rusty introduced him to the aging attorney outside the man's office. Adam recognized Graham Silverstone from the restaurant the day he met the mayor for lunch. Graham was dining with Dr. Martin at the time and Adam had wondered about the elderly gentleman then.

  By the time he and Adam had finished their friendly conversation in the middle of the busy boardwalk, Graham Silverstone had issued Adam an invitation to dinner on Wednesday. Adam accepted, hiding his triumph beneath a gracious smile.

  It wasn't until later that Rusty casually mentioned that Graham Silverstone was Mary Ann's granddad, and the young woman lived with him.

  Adam knew then that the situation would have to be handled in a delicate manner or he'd find himself linked hand in hand with Mary Ann. While she was both pretty and gracious, it was the last thing he needed.

  He solved the problem by pretending to be surprised to discover the two were related, therefore dispatching the notion from Mary Ann's head that he might have anticipated seeing her.

  The disappointment in her eyes confirmed Adam's suspicions. Thank goodness for his foresight.

  Dessert arrived, strawberries smothered in sweet cream and spiced with warm rum. After another twenty minutes of pointless conversation, Graham finally pushed back his chair and smiled at his granddaughter. “Excuse us, Mary Ann. We'll take brandy in my study. Adam?"

  Adam tried not to appear too eager, at the risk of rubbing salt in the wound. Feeling generous now, he flashed a brilliant smile at Mary Ann. “Miss Silverstone, both the meal and the company were outstanding."

  Mary Ann blushed. “Thank you, Sheriff Logan.” She hesitated, patting her mouth with a napkin and delicately clearing her throat. “Will—will you join us again sometime?"

  Adam lifted a brow at her bold question, understanding what she was asking. “I can't say, Miss Silverstone, but seein’ you has been a pleasure.” Keep it light and promise nothing, Adam thought ruefully, following Graham down a short hall and into a room that smelled of tobacco and leather.

  Worn, leather-bound volumes lined a book shelf from ceiling to floor. A large mahogany desk took up a goodly portion of the room on the left and a long set of bay windows led out to a small garden. Adam saw fireflies blinking in and out as they lazed through the shadowy shapes of flowers and bushes.

  Graham's wealth was subtle, unlike the mayor's blatant flaunting, and Adam found himself admiring the man's style.

  He turned his attention back to the man standing at a monstrous sideboard, watching as he poured brandy into two glasses. The man was as thin as a stick, tall, with a slim face and a long nose. He had the look of a wealthy blueblood, and Adam wondered why the affluent man had decided to settle in Shadow City.

  "So, Adam Logan. What brings you to our quaint little town?"

  Adam started as Graham echoed his own thoughts. “A job,” he said with a casual shrug. He took the brandy from his host and settled into a comfortable leather chair near the open window, trying to decide how much he should tell the attorney.

  Graham sat across from him in an identical chair and crossed his long legs, his expression one of polite interest.

  Lacy had accused him of being sneaky, Adam recalled. Was this the only gripe she had? Or did she dislike him because of who he was? If that was the case, what if he told Graham Silverstone about his relationship to Colt Murddock, and Graham reacted the same way? Sins of the father, or in this case, sins of the grandfather.

  The possibility made Adam mad. He was not ashamed of who he was, and to hell with the people who believed his grandfather was a coward. With a challenging tilt to his eyes, he balanced the glass on his knee and asked bluntly, “How well did you know Colt Murddock?"

  Graham looked surprised, as if this was the last thing he had expected Adam to say. He uncrossed his legs and sat forward, a frown adding to the wrinkles in his wide forehead. “Why would you ask about a man who's been dead for fifteen years?"

  Adam's fingers tightened around his glass. Hell. “Why does everyone avoid my simple question?"

  "Because—well, because it's not something most people care to remember."

  Adam took the arrow without flinching. He had wanted to hear the truth, and he was hearing it. And he didn't like it, but Rusty had warned him. “People don't want to remember Colt Murddock? Or people don't want to remember what happened the day he died..."

  "He committed suicide, Sheriff Logan,” Graham stated quietly, lifting his shoulders. “Everyone knows that. And no, nobody likes to remember that their hero took the coward's way out. He was a giant among men, someone I was proud to say I knew—"

  "Before he died,” Adam cut in. “Now everyone's ashamed to even speak his name.” He paused, before adding softly, “Including yourself."

  Graham cleared his throat, staring at Adam suspiciously. “Just exactly what is your interest in Colt Murddock, anyway?” He took a hefty drink of his brandy, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation.

  Adam left his drink untouched. He stated baldly, “I'm his grandson."

  Graham choked on the brandy. He wheezed and coughed for several minutes, until Adam began to think he would have to pound the man on the back.

  "Damn!” he rasped, his fine, aristocratic nose quivering as he looked Adam over through watery eyes. “I don't know why I didn't notice the resemblance before now. You really are Colt's grandson."

  Adam smiled without a trace of warmth. “Yes, I am."

  "Well I'll be damned. I'll be damned!” Graham recovered from the shock slowly, his eyes remaining round. “I remember Colt talking about you and your ma. How is your ma?"

  "She died over a month ago."

  "I'm sorry to hear that, son.” He shook his head in disbelief and marveled again, “Colt's grandson. He sure set a lot of store by you."

  "Did he?” Adam relaxed a little and took a drink of his brandy. Although Graham appeared to have changed his tune in a hurry, maybe he would get somewhere now. He had been mistaken in assuming people would be more inclined to discuss his grandfather if they didn't know who he was. It seemed to be the opposite.

  Graham shot him a quizzical look. “Yes, he did. Left you that ranch in Wyoming, didn't he?"

  Adam froze in the chair, shuttering his eyelids to hide his expression. “As a matter of fact, he didn't. There was no will, so it went to my mother. Now it belongs to her husband."

  If Graham had looked shocked before, he was doubly shocked now. “There was a will! I don't know what it said exactly, but Colt talked about it often enough. I know for a fact he wouldn't have left that land for his son-in-law to get his hands
on. He hated that man."

  There was a will. The words buzzed inside his head until he felt as if a bee had made a home there. Surely Graham was mistaken. “What do you mean there was a will and you didn't know what was in it?” It made no sense, if Graham had acted as Colt's attorney, for him to sound so vague about a legal matter.

  Graham went to pour himself another brandy, so deep in concentration he forgot to ask Adam if he wanted more. “Colt didn't like to take on airs, didn't want people to know how much of this town he owned—which was a lot of it, at first.

  "Eventually, people paid their loans and owned their own businesses, but there were a few things Colt kept a hand in.” He leveled a serious gaze on Adam. “Colt was a smart man, and he knew what he needed to keep control of, for the good of this town.” As if he realized he had gotten off the subject, he said, “Anyway, Colt came to me about a week before he died and gave me an envelope—sealed—and said he wanted the contents sent to his ranch in care of his daughter—if anything ever happened to him."

  "A week before his death,” Adam murmured. “Almost as if he knew..."

  Graham nodded. “Yes. Almost as if he was thinking about ... dying."

  Adam stiffened, realizing they were traveling in completely opposite directions. He bit his tongue and remained silent as Graham went on.

  "I told him he should keep a copy somewhere safe, and he assured me he had already taken care of it."

  Every muscle in Adam's body felt ready to burst from the strain of holding himself still. “After he died, you sent this envelope to my mother?"

  "No. You see, we had a fire that day, too.” There was profound regret in his eyes. “I'm sorry, Adam. I lost everything, including a lot of important deeds."

  The fire Rusty had told him about, Adam thought. A timely fire that both distracted and destroyed. And for it to happen right after the death of Colt Murddock, well, that was too coincidental for Adam. “And you say you never knew what was in that envelope Colt gave you?"