She nodded. Intellectually, she understood. But emotionally…it simply didn’t seem possible.
“The truth is, after so many failures, I’d sort of begun to believe I’d imagined him.”
He smiled. He still held on to her hands. “I know. I sometimes wished you had, too. But unfortunately, the facts were always there, proving he was real-life flesh and blood.”
“Yes.” She thought of the tiny life, floating inside her, perhaps sensing Josie’s heartbeat like the strange pulsing of a distant moon. And she couldn’t be sorry. Whatever else this man did to her, he had left her with this gift, this miracle that was better than either of them could ever be.
Chase tightened his grip on her hands. “Tell me what you want to do.”
That, of course, was the ultimate question.
What did she want to do? Everything felt different now. When she’d first discovered she was pregnant, she’d been angry and sick. And afraid. So afraid.
She’d had only one thought. To find him, and make him own up to his sins. And pay for them, too. In cold hard cash, if possible.
She had wanted to force him to save her. One way or another.
But then she’d met the real Chase, and somehow he had taught her how to save herself. He’d taught her what real strength looked like. And real love, too. He’d taught her what it felt like to really love a man.
And what it felt like to love herself.
Today, the idea of hunting this man down like a dog, of bringing him to his knees…none of those things felt quite the same.
“What did you say his name was?”
“Anthony Maguire.”
She said the name over in her mind, trying it on. It was hard to make the switch. “Why didn’t you recognize him from the sketch the artist made? It wasn’t perfect, but it was close.”
“Maguire didn’t look like this when he worked for me. For one thing, he’s lost about forty or fifty pounds, I’d say. He was never a very tall guy, but he was a good bit overweight. And he’s changed his hair—dyed it, definitely. He used to be brunette. And he used to have a beard.”
She frowned. “But that’s—so much change…that almost has to be deliberate.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I think so, too. But it doesn’t have to be criminal. Maybe he just wanted to reinvent himself. He wasn’t very well liked when he was here. He was always putting on airs, they say, always acting as if he was better than the other hands.”
“Do you remember him well?”
“Not really. Trent had to remind me about that part. All I remember is finding him and a couple of other guys one day, racing three of my best horses out in the south pastures. They hadn’t asked permission, they just decided it would be fun. This guy was on Alcatraz, and using his whip like a madman. Hand up above his shoulder, stabbing down, hitting over and over, till he drew blood.”
“Oh, my God.”
“Yeah. I fired all three of them, but Maguire got the worst of it. I didn’t hold back, not even a little.” He shook his head. “I’m not surprised the guy hates me. And frankly, the feeling is mutual.”
He drummed his fingers on the tabletop, and stared out through the bay window, as if remembering all the drama of that day. Josie tried to picture the man she’d known as Chase. She tried to imagine his hands holding the riding crop and beating the horse with it.
The same hands that had touched her.
She felt her stomach tighten, and a rush of morning sickness, the first in days, moved through her.
“I need to know what you want to do, Josie. Obviously he has to be stopped. And if he has any assets, he should be forced to help out with the baby. But do you want to get involved in that personally? I can always sic Stilling on him. Establishing paternity shouldn’t be difficult. There are legal avenues that wouldn’t require you to lay eyes on him, if you didn’t want to.”
She hesitated. What was the wise choice? What, in the end, would be best for her child? Was money that important? Would even a million dollars be worth it, if it meant bringing a lying, violent bastard into their lives?
“I want to see him,” she said. “I want to look into his eyes one more time, now that I know…the truth. And then I’ll decide what to do.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
IT WAS, CHASE THOUGHT, like finding the right combination to a safe. Once they had a name, the steel door swung open, and the rest of the information cascaded into their hands.
Four hours later, the bastard was theirs.
Ironically, he lived in San Antonio. They had probably been within five miles of him the day they came to check out Alexander.
His house looked much like the others on his street. Small, ordinary, well kept. A few azaleas, looking their best right about now, and a satellite dish on the roof.
You sure couldn’t tell from the exterior that a scumbag lived inside.
As they reached the front stoop, they heard the television droning through the half-open window. A little Honda, not too old—not even as old as Josie’s car had been, sat in the carport, so they were pretty sure the bastard was home.
Chase glanced at Josie. She appeared surprisingly calm. Maybe she was numb. She’d been very quiet on the drive over.
“You ready?” He gave her a smile.
“Ready enough,” she said. And then, taking one deep breath, she lifted her hand and knocked on the door.
First the television grew quiet, and then the thin door opened. A pretty young blonde with shoulder-length hair and a lot of freckles stood there, one hand on the doorknob and the other on her stomach.
Her very pregnant stomach.
Chase felt Josie go utterly still.
“Hi,” the woman said. She scanned them quickly, as if trying to decide whether they might be selling something. “Can I help you?”
Josie’s face seemed frozen. She was smiling, but it was like an image caught on a computer monitor that had already lost its power. It wasn’t happening in real time.
“We’re looking for Anthony Maguire,” Chase said, quickly covering the pause. “Is this his house?”
“Yes.” The woman’s light, curving brows knitted. “I’m Tony’s wife. Bonnie. Can I help you?”
The woman clearly wasn’t the defiant type, but she wasn’t an idiot, either. She had no intention of telling them anything else until she had some idea what was going on. Chase thought it was quite possible she’d opened the door to strangers with bad news before.
Bill collectors, maybe?
Other girlfriends?
Actually, she looked like a nice woman, with round, girlish features and an innocent expression in her brown eyes. Too bad she’d picked such a louse to marry.
And have kids with.
Josie finally spoke up. “Is Anthony at home?”
The other woman cocked her head. “I’m sorry—I don’t think I caught your name.”
“I’m Chase Clayton.” He smiled. “Tony used to work for me.”
Josie made a jerky movement, but before she could protest he reached in his pocket and pulled out one of his cards. He held it out to the woman in the doorway.
“It was three years ago. I don’t think you guys were married then.”
She studied the card, turning it over as if she wanted to be hard-nosed and skeptical, but obviously impressed by the embossed Double C brand.
“No,” she said. She seemed to relax now that she knew he wasn’t a lawyer or a bill collector. “We’ve only been married two years. But if you’ll come in, Mr. Clayton, I’m sure Tony will—”
Her soft Texas drawl was interrupted by a gruff male voice.
“I’ll handle this, Bonnie,” the man said.
Bonnie glanced over her shoulder. “Are you sure, honey? If you need to rest, I can bring them into the living room and—”
“I’ll take care of it.”
With a worried, slightly embarrassed smile, the woman bowed out, making room for the man to take her place.
As soon as he came into
sight, Josie’s paralyzed silence ended. She made a small, disbelieving sound.
Chase came close to doing the same thing. The man who stood before them had the blond hair and the blue eyes Josie had described. But the rest of his face…
The rest was hardly human.
“LOOK, I’M NOT defending myself,” Anthony Maguire said dully. “I told you I don’t blame you for being angry.”
Josie watched him shift his weight on his crutches, trying to get comfortable. It was difficult to see him struggle so hard without wanting to look away.
With one of his legs in a cast up to the thigh, it had taken forever for them to walk down to Chase’s truck. But Anthony had insisted on doing so. Obviously he hadn’t wanted his wife to hear the conversation he knew was coming.
Josie had walked just in front of him, so that she didn’t have to look at him, or risk touching him. From the left profile, he appeared almost the same. But from the right side, where the bronc had trampled him, the entire shape of his cheek and jaw was wrong.
Hideous.
But also pitiful.
They’d been down here for almost ten minutes now, listening in shocked silence while Anthony described the rodeo accident that had left him so broken and disfigured.
It had happened just a few days after he left Josie. Finally she learned why he’d bolted from Riverfork, ditching Josie without even a goodbye call.
After several months of being estranged, his wife had called him. Bonnie wanted to try again.
This time they could make it work, she’d said. This time they had a good enough incentive. She was going to have a baby.
When she heard that, Josie glanced at Chase. She couldn’t read his expression. Like her, he seemed reluctant to speak. Neither of them wanted to break the flow of the other man’s story.
Apparently the rodeo had been Anthony’s income, ever since he was fired from the Double C. He did all right, he said. Not great, but enough to buy this little house.
He’d always been fairly conservative, balancing his physical safety with his need to earn a living. But when he and Bonnie had separated, he’d decided to go for broke. And he’d won big. Right around Christmas, he was golden, winning everything he entered.
That was the money he’d used to impress Josie. He’d blown it all in one month. He shrugged. It wasn’t cheap to pull off an impersonation of a millionaire.
“I guess that’s why most people don’t even try,” Chase said drily.
There was a pause, in which Josie could see Anthony’s hands flexing and unflexing on the handle of the crutch.
“Most people haven’t had to spend a year kissing the ground at the great Chase Clayton’s feet.” For the first time, Anthony sounded belligerent. “The way I saw it, you owed me.”
“I owe you, all right,” Chase said. “I owe you a little vacation in the county jail.”
“Don’t take that superior tone with me, Clayton. I’m not a fool. Nothing I did was illegal. I didn’t steal anything from you. I didn’t use your precious credit cards or your bank accounts. I just borrowed a little of the glow that comes with being a Clayton.”
“Interesting distinction. What do you say we take it to a judge or two, and see what they think?”
“And the judges would just happen to be your drinking buddies, right?” Anthony laughed harshly. “You people are so goddamn corrupt.”
Josie saw a pulse jump in Chase’s jaw. She touched his elbow, which was as hard as a rock. She squeezed it softly, just to remind him that she was here.
The connection helped her to focus, too. She forced herself to look at Anthony, hoping her horror didn’t show too clearly on her face.
“So how did you get hurt? I mean, if the rodeos were going so well…”
Anthony looked back at her. He smiled, horribly, through the unnatural jaw, connected with metal plates. His nose had been broken, and his cheekbone sagged under his right eye. The imprint of a horseshoe branded his right cheek, and everywhere searing scars crisscrossed the once-smooth skin.
Somewhere in all that, she could almost glimpse the handsome man who had so suavely romanced her. But it was like finding the singed corner of a letter buried in the ashes of a fire. It only accented the loss.
“The luck always changes, Josie. Always. You know that. I’d taken a month off, the month I spent with you. I wasn’t in the greatest shape. But with a baby on the way, Bonnie and I needed the money. So I gambled, hoping for the big purse.”
He shrugged. “And I lost. Big-time. The bronc went nuts, I hit the ground, and I’ve been drinking soup and milk through a straw ever since. And, of course, the morphine. Thank God for the morphine.”
She opened her mouth—but his story had snatched the words right out of her throat. Even though the entire trip to San Antonio had been spent practicing how she would show him her contempt, suddenly she couldn’t utter a single syllable.
He had done terrible things, both to her and to Chase. But was there any point in trying to punish him anymore?
Fate had tracked him down far faster than she could.
And Fate had laid him low.
“So let me guess.” Chase didn’t appear to be similarly moved. “Now I guess you expect us to say, hey, no problem, it’s all good—just because you went and got yourself trampled?”
Anthony laughed, low and tight. “No way, boss man. Not you. Remember, I’ve seen your particular brand of justice, and it lacks a certain, shall we say…mercy?”
“Sure. Let’s say that. I show no mercy to lying, vicious sons of bitches. That’s something I can live with. You show no mercy to innocent young women, one of whom is unfortunate enough to actually be married to you. And even, God help her, carrying your—”
Josie demurred softly. Hearing it, Chase stopped himself short. He turned to her. “Okay. Once again, Josie, it’s up to you. What do you want to do with this pathetic weasel?”
Anthony moved forward, hopping on his one good foot.
“Listen,” he said roughly. “I don’t care what you do. All I ask is that, if we’re going to have to tell Bonnie, let me be the one to do it.”
Chase ignored him. “Josie? What’s it going to be? Just say the word, and we can squash this bastard like a bug.”
She pretended to think a little, though in reality her mind was already made up. Bonnie loved him. Bonnie probably was the only thing in the world that stood between Anthony Maguire and true despair.
And there was Bonnie’s baby…
And he wasn’t going to be masquerading as Chase again any time soon. The next young woman he approached was far more likely to scream than swoon.
“Look at him,” she said. “I’d say he’s already been effectively neutralized, wouldn’t you? Anything we did now would be overkill.”
“Damn it, Josie.” Chase narrowed his eyes. “Are you sure? No matter what he says, the law is on your side, in every way. There’s nothing you’d like to tell him?”
She shook her head firmly, hoping Chase would get the message. “Nothing.”
“And nothing you want from him? Not a dime? Not even a little revenge?”
“Not one single thing,” she said. She held out her hand. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
ON THE DRIVE HOME, they didn’t even try to maintain a sensible distance. He pulled her up against him, wrapped his arm around her slender, shaking shoulders, and let her weep into his shirt.
It was good for her, he knew. She’d misted up a few times, but through this whole ordeal he’d never seen her really break down. She was overdue for a good cry.
And besides, this morning had been hell. Even Chase had been moved by the sight of that poor bastard, with his face all stomped to hell. He could only imagine how it had affected Josie. After all, just a few months ago she had found Maguire charming enough to…
But Chase didn’t really like to think about that. Even while he was feeling sorry for Anthony Maguire, he had been fighting the primitive male urge to beat the guy
to raw meat, just because he’d had the nerve to put his dirty hands on Josie.
How caveman was that? Apparently civilization was a pretty thin veneer covering over some fairly primitive emotions.
But he hadn’t done it. That was something, right? He hadn’t done it because Maguire was already such a mess—and because Josie hadn’t wanted him to.
She had such a forgiving nature. He knew that she was crying now not so much for herself and her lost dream, but for Maguire’s pain. And maybe for that poor little rag doll wife of his.
Chase stroked the side of Josie’s head, running his fingers along the silk of her hair. Now and then he’d smooth the tears away from her cheek. He murmured soft noises that didn’t really mean anything—except that he understood.
But though they were intense, the tears didn’t last long. He had just barely pulled his car onto Interstate 35 heading north when she lifted her head.
“I’m sorry,” she said, pulling a tissue out to wipe her eyes. “I think it’s—”
“I know,” he said. “You don’t have to explain. You’ve kept a lot of stuff bottled up inside. It’s good to let it out.”
She nodded. “I guess so.”
He pulled her back down to his shoulder. She resisted for a second, and then she let herself relax against him. They drove that way for a long time, in silence, while the motels, and gas stations and all the unlovely hodgepodge of a city’s outskirts rolled by on either side.
He knew she might be hungry, and he thought about stopping. But a low-level anxiety kept drumming through his veins. Sooner or later, she was going to start talking again about going home.
He wanted to prevent that. If he could just get her back to the Double C, where he knew she had begun to feel at home, he’d feel safer. Imogene would feed her, and pet her and generally baby her until she felt better.
Maybe she could take a nap. And then, when this morning’s trauma had faded to a more manageable distance, they could sit on the porch and talk about what she should do now.
They were about twenty minutes outside Austin when his luck ran out.
“Chase,” she said, lifting her head. “I want to go home.”
Texas Baby Page 17