“Yeah, I know.” Mac would never take a suggestion Violet made at face value. He’d only hear her asking for the frivolous things she asked for as a kid—a new pony, new boots, more toys. He never believed that she could have an idea that had merit.
But she’d wanted the Wild Aces so much that, instead of waiting around for Andrea to massage the message, Violet had barged right into all the reasons the Double M should acquire the Wild Aces over dinner. What a mistake that had been.
And now that mistake was going to cost her almost twice the price Lulu would have sold her the Aces for a year ago.
Well, this wasn’t all her fault. If Mac wasn’t so damned convinced she was nothing but a foolish girl, he’d have seen the logic behind her request and bought the Wild Aces in the first place.
Of course, this was an emergency. There was no time to let Andrea work her magic. She had less than a day to convince Mac that the Aces wasn’t just another frivolous thing she wanted—it was part and parcel of the Double M’s survival. “Is he in?”
“Yes, let me check.” Andrea knocked on Mac’s door and stuck her head in. “Your sister is here.”
“Come on in,” Mac said in the background.
“Good luck,” Andrea whispered as Violet edged into the room.
“What’s up, sis?” Mac asked without looking up from his computer.
Was there a good way to start this conversation? No, there wasn’t. The best she could do at this point was keep quiet about her pregnancy for as long as she could. If Mac found out now—in the middle of this whole thing with Samson Oil—well, the situation would get muddled up beyond all hope. At the very least, she wanted her doctor’s appointment to happen before she told Mac.
“We need to buy the Wild Aces,” she said without preamble.
Mac sighed heavily, as if she were twelve all over again, an irritating little sister he could barely be bothered to humor. “Again with the Wild Aces, Violet? We don’t need to waste money on land we don’t need.”
“But we need the water, Mac. This isn’t about what I want. This is about the Double M. Lulu called—some outfit named Samson Oil offered her two million for the Aces. She’ll give me twenty-four hours to come up with at least one-point-five but otherwise, we’re out. And if we’re out, we’ll be out the water.”
“Wait—did you say Samson Oil?”
“Yeah, I did. And Dale said they’ve bought up the Taggerts’ land and all the other ranches around ours. If we don’t meet Lulu’s offer, we’re going to be locked out, Mac. We need the water or we’ll lose the Double M.” She was proud of the way she kept her anger out of it.
Because if he’d just listened to her the first time—or all the other times after that—they wouldn’t be in this position.
The blood drained out of Mac’s face and he sat back, his full attention on her.
“What?” she demanded. Because he looked a lot more upset right now than he had when a tornado had damaged their wells.
“Samson Oil is—well, it’s Rafe. I just found out at the Cattleman’s Club meeting. The other night.” He looked flabbergasted. “Kyle Wade told us all.”
“Wait—what?” For maybe only the second time in her life, Violet felt faint. The first had been when her parents hadn’t come home, but Sheriff Nathan Battle had shown up with some woman Violet had never seen before to tell her that she was now an orphan. It had been perfectly understandable then that Violet had fainted.
But this? Rafe was Samson Oil?
Yeah, this was as good a time as any to feel light-headed.
“Hey—hey!” Mac jumped up and hurried toward her. “Geez, Violet—what the heck? Sit down,” he said, his voice thick as he caught her under the arms and guided her to the chair in front of his desk. “Andrea, get some water!” he shouted.
“I’m fine,” Violet lied, because she wasn’t sure of anything anymore, except that she wasn’t fine at all. She had just plumb run out of coping, thank you very much. No coping left at all. She couldn’t handle one more shock to the system.
Mac grabbed a manila folder off his desk and began fanning her. Andrea rushed in with a glass of water and the two of them hovered over her like protective mother hens. “Should we call an ambulance?”
“For the love of Pete, I’m fine,” Violet said, more forcefully this time. She was the boss. Not her emotions and not her hormones. “It’s just...he didn’t mention Samson Oil when we had dinner.”
And that seemed like a rather important fact. When he said he’d look into the Wild Aces for her, for example—that would have been a great time to mention that he was behind the corporation buying up all the land surrounding the Double M at insane prices.
Wait—maybe she was looking at this wrong? What if Rafe had done exactly what he’d said he was going to do?
Hope flared through the mess that was her head. Maybe he was buying the Aces for her, just as he’d said?
“Well, he is Samson Oil,” Mac went on. “He didn’t deny it at the meeting or anything. Instead, he just said that he was exploring mineral rights.” Mac stood back up, frowning. “I don’t know, Violet. I mean, it’s Rafe—but there’s something about this that’s not right.”
“Dale said we’d be cut off from the water.” Just as soon as the hopeful thoughts that Rafe had really bought the Wild Aces for her had emerged, they were sunk under a crushing wave of worry. “Mac,” she started, a sense of horror dawning in her mind, “what if he’s not here because he’s checking in with his old friend?”
Just saying those words out loud made her feel ill all over again.
“I don’t know if I can believe that either,” Mac said, starting to pace. “I mean, he’s only been in Texas for, what? A few weeks, tops?”
Violet opened her mouth to correct him because she knew—intimately—that Rafe had been in the area much earlier than that. Four months ago, in fact.
But that’s not what she said, at least not directly. “If he’s Samson Oil, and Samson has been buying up property all around Royal since last fall, why didn’t he come over months ago?”
And that was the $10,000 question, wasn’t it? Why had Rafe been in Holloway four months ago? Where had he been since then? And why was he buying up what basically amounted to half the town of Royal, Texas?
“I don’t like this,” Andrea said quietly. But she wasn’t looking at Mac when she said it. Instead, she was staring at Violet.
Oh, no. Andrea wasn’t exactly a mother figure, but she was the closest thing Violet had to a big sister. And if anyone could look at Violet and see the little changes that had been happening to her—and put all those little changes together to figure out the one big change—it’d be Andrea. The woman’s attention to detail was almost inhuman.
Violet knew her eyes were wide and yeah, she was pretty sure she looked guilty because Andrea’s eyes got wide right back. Too late, Violet realized she had covered her stomach with her hands and not in the going-to-be-sick way but the cradling-my-pregnant-belly way. Mac had missed the gesture entirely. But Andrea hadn’t.
Oh, no. Andrea’s mouth opened to say something but Violet cut her off with a shake of her head. They could not have this conversation right now, in Mac’s office of all places. Not happening.
Andrea gave her what could only be described as a stern look before quickly nodding her head in agreement. “We’ll talk later?” she said quietly.
“Okay,” Violet said because really? She wanted to tell someone and of all the people in the world, Andrea was not only the safest option but the one who could most help Violet share her “impending blessing,” as Rafe had called it, with Mac with minimal collateral damage. If her mom were here, Violet would have already cried it out on her shoulder. Andrea was the next best thing.
Just not here. Not now.
Her phone buzzed. Numbly, she dug it
out of her pocket and saw it was a text from Rafe. When can I see you again?
She stared at the phone. Well, this was awkward. But then, her whole life had become one continuous string of awkward moments. She better get used to it. Where are you?
In Holloway at the inn. Thinking of you.
If she hadn’t just been questioning Rafe’s every motivation for being in the greater Texas area, she might have been touched by that sentiment. We need to talk.
The problem was how to talk without Mac finding out. It’d been wonderfully convenient that he’d been away on a business trip a few days ago but now? What excuse could she use to get Rafe alone?
Violet looked up at Andrea. “I need Mac to be busy tonight,” she said in an urgent whisper.
“Why?”
Violet bit her lip. “I’ll explain later.”
Andrea gave her that stern look again. “Later, we’re going to talk.”
“I know. But tonight?”
Andrea sighed heavily, then stood and turned her attention back to Mac. “We need to talk with the other landowners who’ve already sold to Samson and get an idea of what the terms of the sales were and see if they were all told the same thing or if there are inconsistencies. Once we have a little more information, then we can consider approaching Rafe.”
God bless that woman, Violet thought.
Her phone buzzed again. Are you still there?
“Yeah, okay,” Mac said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Something doesn’t add up, I tell you.” He turned his attention back to Violet. She barely managed to get her phone flipped over so her screen was pressing against her thigh before Mac saw. “You going to be okay?”
“I’m fine, really,” she said again.
“I want you to go home and take it easy for the rest of the day. Maybe Andrea can come by and fix you some chicken-noodle soup?”
Violet gave Andrea a look, one that Violet hoped said, Keep him busy.
“I think I need to come with you,” Andrea said carefully. “Violet says she’s fine and besides, two heads are better than one. I’ll take notes while you talk to people.”
“Okay, yeah, that sounds good.” When Andrea relaxed into a smile, Violet thought she saw something unfamiliar flicker across Mac’s face. “We’ll get some dinner and make an evening of it. If,” he added, glancing at Violet, “you’re sure you’re going to be okay?”
Violet stood, casually tucking her phone back into her pocket. “Mac,” she said carefully, “I’m not a little girl anymore. If I say I’ll be fine, I’ll be fine.”
For a second, she thought Mac was going to argue with her. But Andrea stepped forward and said, “She’ll be fine, Mac.”
Mac turned his attention back to Andrea. That look came over his face again and he said, “All right,” as if he were physically incapable of taking Violet’s word at face value.
God, she loved her brother, but sometimes she just wanted to strangle him.
Violet knew she shouldn’t press her luck. She should quit while she was—okay, maybe not ahead, but at least not falling further behind. But they still hadn’t resolved the whole reason she’d come here today. “What about the Wild Aces?”
Andrea shot her a warning look. Right. Violet needed to let this drop and she needed to let Andrea work her magic when she and Mac were making an evening of it, so to speak.
“Let me talk to a few people,” Mac said, grabbing his hat and firmly cramming it on his head. “But Violet—I won’t let it go without a fight. Not if Rafe’s got some ulterior motive.”
Andrea nodded, and although Violet desperately wanted to remind Mac of how very much they needed the Wild Aces, she let the matter drop.
As soon as Mac and Andrea were safely in his truck, with Andrea already on the phone making calls to everyone who had sold to Samson Oil, Violet texted Rafe back. I’m here. When’s good for you?
Now, was the immediate response. Shall I come to you? Or you to me?
She had promised Mac she would go home. And as long as she and Rafe stayed downstairs—with their clothes on—if Mac came home, she could just say, well, Rafe dropped in to chat about all this Samson Oil business.
Can you come to the house? she texted back.
I am on my way.
See you soon.
Soon she would know what he was up to and what part she played and whether or not she was going to get the Wild Aces.
God, she hoped this worked out.
Nine
Rafe paused only long enough to procure another rose for Violet, and even with that small detour, he made it to the Double M in record time.
He did not see Mac’s vehicle, which was good. In the two days since he’d left Violet’s bed, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her.
It was discomforting to realize that he missed her. Worse, though, was the fact that he was having conflicting thoughts about the property she wanted, the Wild Aces. The purchase was going according to plan. Despite the issues that kept cropping up, victory was still within his grasp. Once he had the Wild Aces, he could choke Mac McCallum off his property. Revenge served very cold indeed.
Except that he kept thinking back to the grand old home on the Wild Aces, and how Violet wanted to make it over and raise his child there. And how Rafe wanted very much to give her just that—to give her whatever she wanted.
That insidious voice in the back of his head that sounded like his father’s angry shouting berated him for even considering letting the Wild Aces—and his entire scheme—fall apart for the sake of one woman.
The family honor. The family name. No one uses a bin Saleed like that and gets away with it.
That was what his father had shouted after he had come to collect Nasira and found her in Mac’s bed. Those were the very words he had used to shame Rafe for allowing some common American to take advantage of a bin Saleed.
That was why Rafe was here. That was why he now owned half of this county. He had to avenge the family honor.
In all respects, Rafe had been surprised that his father had not taken even more drastic measures against Mac and his family. But to do so would have continued to draw attention to how Rafe and Nasira had so badly betrayed the family honor. Better to keep the whole incident quiet. At least, that was what Fareed had managed to convince the old man.
Rafe had to do something. The years between when his father had walked in on Mac and Nasira, and the old man’s death had nearly killed Rafe in a very real way. All because Mac did not respect Rafe or Nasira enough to keep his lust in check.
Rafe was a bin Saleed.
Honor. Revenge.
Violet...
The diamond-and-ruby bracelet felt heavy in his pocket. It was all part of his new-and-much-improved plan. Wooing Violet away from Mac would complete his revenge in ways he had not even originally considered. He was not letting his scheme fall apart. He was expanding upon it.
As he mounted the steps onto the wide porch, Violet opened the door and he knew immediately that something was not right. “Are you well?” he asked, hurrying to take her in his arms.
“Rafe,” she said, not exactly melting into his embrace. Instead, she stayed stiff and he heard the tension in her voice.
And her text came back to him: We need to talk.
He leaned back and looked down at her. And he knew, somehow, that she’d discovered his scheme.
Was it weakness that he wanted to delay that confrontation, even for a moment longer? Was it weakness that had him pressing his lips against hers for one more kiss, because after this kiss, he did not know if he would have another chance to hold her in his arms?
Or was it just the fact that he had failed and he sought the comfort only Violet could provide?
She did not kiss him back. Not as she had kissed him the last ti
me he had seen her.
Suddenly, Rafe was nearly overcome with the urge to fall to his knees and beg her forgiveness. Once, Violet McCallum had been an abstract concept, an afterthought to his scheme. But now? Now she was a living, breathing woman who had shared herself with him, body and soul, and he had been careless with that. With her.
“Who are you?” she said, her voice soft. But that softness did nothing to disguise the anger that she was barely keeping in check. “Who are you, really?”
“Rafiq bin Saleed,” he told her truthfully. “I sometimes use Ben. It was...simpler.”
“Simpler?” she scoffed, turning away from him.
“Easier to pronounce,” he offered, trailing after her as she stalked into her home.
“Or just easier to hide who you really were?”
“That, too.”
She spun, her eyes blazing. “Tell me how you’re involved with Samson Oil. Tell me why you were here four months ago. Tell me why you suddenly seem to own every single piece of land surrounding the Double M.” She began to advance on him and, thankfully, years of conditioned response from being berated by his father had Rafe standing his ground. Cowering was bad enough but to cower before a woman?
“And tell me, Rafe,” she went on, her voice getting louder with each word, “tell me it doesn’t have a damn thing to do with whatever happened between you and Mac back in college. That ‘it does not signify.’”
By this point, she was standing directly in front of him and poking him in the chest with one of her fingers.
Tell me you have not failed me. The words were not Violet’s but his father’s. It had been a trap, because of course Rafe had failed him and Nasira. Rafe had failed the country of Al Qunfudhah by foolishly trusting a duplicitous American.
Some part of him knew that he had failed Violet, that she had had nothing to do with what happened between Mac and Nasira, that she had nothing to do with the hell on earth that had come afterward.
But that part was buried deep beneath Rafe’s survival mechanisms. And Violet, while formidable, was not Hassad bin Saleed.
A Surprise for the Sheikh Page 11