Men Made in America Mega-Bundle

by Gayle Wilson, Marie Ferrarella, Jennifer Greene, Annette Broadrick, Judith Arnold, Rita Herron, Anne Stuart, Diana Palmer, Elizabeth Bevarly, Patricia Rosemoor, Emilie Richards

  Nearly choking on the air—thankfully, no smoke or fumes were created in the flue-curing process—she started an inspection that was cursory and quick until a spot of bright red flashed at her from between the dull yellow rows of tobacco.

  Her sister had worn a red blouse that morning, Jane remembered.

  “Susan?”

  Leaning more heavily on her cane, she forced herself forward and was rewarded with a human sound. A moan? And then she spotted her.

  “Susan!” she gasped.

  Her sister lay on the floor, hands behind her back, duct tape sealing shut her mouth. Her face was nearly as red as her shirt and her skin looked basted. Her open eyes were filled with panic.

  Heart pounding, Jane rushed forward. “Susan! Oh, Lord, did Tim do this to you?”

  She dropped the cane and fell to her knees unthinking, then, stunned, froze in agony. Her sister’s whimpers made her block out her own pain. When she took a steadying breath, immediately her mouth went dry.

  Clamping her jaw shut tight against the dry heat, she set the flashlight down on the ground and gently began working the duct tape free so that the teenager could at least breathe better.

  “Jane!” Susan gasped. “Get—”

  “Don’t try to talk!” Jane reached behind her sister to get at the bonds securing her wrists. “I’ll have you out of here in a minute.”

  “No, get out!”

  Susan’s words were immediately followed by the sound of the barn door closing. Jane’s pulse threaded unevenly. She pushed to her feet and moved as fast as she could, but what sounded like the door being jammed scraped up her spine.

  In denial, she tried ripping at the handle, but the door wouldn’t give. They were locked in, and the building was airtight.

  What now? she wondered in shock.

  The heat was already becoming intolerable. The whole flue-curing process could be accomplished in less than a week rather than the month it would take if the tobacco were air-dried. And the process was coming to a head.

  The barn was going to get increasingly hotter.

  Unless she could figure a way out, Jane realized, she and Susan would dehydrate just like the racks of yellowing tobacco leaves around them.

  BACKING AWAY from the barn, he shuddered at his own handiwork. The sisters would both be found dead in the morning when the barns were opened and the tobacco inspected.

  Dehydrated to death—a horrible way to go, but what wouldn’t be?

  He’d had to do it, he told himself. He’d had no choice. Too bad he’d had to involve the girl.

  Now he had to remove any trace of their being here so that the night security guard wouldn’t see anything amiss and feel the need to check inside.

  He’d gone too far to let things go awry once again.

  He shone his flashlight in Jane’s vehicle. To his relief, she hadn’t removed the keys. And he’d already gotten the other set off the sister.

  He climbed inside and drove a short way farther down the road, away from the tobacco fields and toward the abandoned house. From what he could tell, no one came this way, at least not often. He left the car in a pocket of brush and jogged back to do the same with the girl’s.

  The really awful part was finished.

  And he had no doubt that, when the bodies were found, no one would be thinking about the horse.

  Chapter Twelve

  Curran’s nerves were fairly buzzing by the time he got himself to the main house. Fear slid along his spine as he banged on the door.

  A moment later, Belle whipped it open. Her nervous glance shot over his shoulder, as if she was looking for someone else before settling back on him.

  “Curran.”

  Her tension was palpable.

  “Jane,” he said, trying not to sound too distraught. He didn’t want to panic her grandmother. “Where is she?”

  Belle wrung her hands. “She went after her sister. Here.” She pulled a note from her pocket and handed it to him. “It seems as if Susan went to meet Timothy Brady. We don’t know for certain what his intentions are, but Jane followed to stop Susan.”

  Timothy Brady.

  Curran’s gut clenched. They never had caught up with the assistant trainer at Churchill Downs. What if he was dangerous, despite Jane’s insistence that the man had done nothing but help her in Hudson Valley. She might confront him with a disastrous result.

  Perhaps she already had—the source of his irrational imaginings.

  Why would Jane be so careless as to be forcing a face-to-face with the very man who could be after her? Curran wondered. Undoubtedly, because she didn’t believe he was guilty of anything but having information about Shaw’s troubles.

  “The Potters’ old place,” he said. “Where exactly might that be?”

  “Straight north of here. It’s a tobacco farm.”

  “Maybe we should call the house and ask Mr. Potter to check on them.”

  “That’s not possible,” Belle told him. “No one lives there now. The Potters built a fancy place in Lexington last year. And their farm manager has his own home. So no one is actually on the property full-time.”

  “Then I shall go after them myself.” Acting calmer than he was feeling, Curran took Belle’s hand and squeezed reassuringly. “Try not to be worrying yourself sick, now.”

  “Thank you, Curran. You’re so kind to us. I don’t know what we would do without you.”

  “The feeling is mutual.” Letting go of her hand, he asked, “How will I know the property?”

  “After you pass the third crossroad, slow down and watch on your left for a dirt road that cuts through the tobacco field. That’s it. Just head straight in.”

  “Can you think of any particular place where Timothy and Susan could meet?”

  “I haven’t been on the property for years. I remember a couple of curing barns. You have to pass them to get to the house.”

  “I’ll find your granddaughters, Belle, and I shall be bringing them home to you,” he assured her.

  “Godspeed.”

  Jogging to his car, Curran only prayed that he was telling the truth, that his internal radar would bring him to the woman he loved before another tragedy struck.

  STILL LEANING against the locked door, Jane tried to ignore the heat as she squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated.

  Entering the barn…the too-dry heat…yellowing tobacco…Susan, eyes wide and panicky…

  See this Curran, she thought. Feel this. Now, when it really counts!

  “Jane? Are you okay?” Susan asked, sounding weird, as if her throat weren’t working properly.

  As it probably wasn’t due to the dry, hot air, Jane thought, trying to use as little energy as possible as she hobbled back to her sister. This time when she let herself sink down to the ground, she did so carefully.

  “I’m all right and so are you,” she said as much to convince herself as Susan. “And we’re going to stay that way. Here, let me untie you.”

  “I tried to warn you!”

  “I know you did, sweetheart.”

  Once she freed her sister, Jane gathered the teenager in her arms and hugged her tight. Susan was shaking uncontrollably.

  “I’m sorry,” she said with a sob. “I’m sorry, sorry, sorry!”

  “Timothy Brady will be even sorrier when I get my hands on him,” Jane vowed.

  “No, not Tim. He wasn’t the one,” Susan gasped out, pushing at her with very little power.

  Jane realized that her sister was already in a weakened state. Flushed, she appeared ready to faint. Jane wasn’t feeling great herself, but she knew it might be important to get as much information as possible while they both still could talk.

  “Do you know who did this to you? What did he look like?”

  “I—I don’t know.” With a shaky hand, Susan swiped at her forehead as if something were crawling on it. “Sorry. Headache. I couldn’t tell. It was already getting dark and he wore a billed cap pulled down low. I—I only saw him for a few se
conds before he threw me to the ground.”

  Jane’s chest tightened. “He hurt you?” She had to force out the words.

  “Only a little while he tied me up. And then when he dragged me into the barn and threw me back here.” Susan licked her parched lips. “Why did this happen to us, Jane? What’s going on?”

  The time for honesty was now.

  Jane gave her sister the short version, and though she told the truth, including the fact that not only had Gavin tried to kill her, but someone closer to home, as well, she softened the grisly particulars as much as possible.

  And she left out the personal details about Gavin.

  Susan took it all in, then asked, “Does Nani know?”

  “I told her this morning. That’s what I was discussing with Curran when you overheard me talking about sending you off to Mother. I wasn’t trying to punish you, Susan. I was trying to protect you.”

  The teenager’s face crumpled. “And I just made everything worse.”

  “It’s my fault, not yours. You didn’t know what was going on.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me, Jane? I’m your sister. I had a right. I love you. I don’t want to lose you.”

  “And I love you. I just haven’t been thinking straight lately.”

  Jane hugged Susan again, wondering if her sister was so enamored of Tim Brady that she was lying for him. Or perhaps it was just that she couldn’t face the truth. And would rather believe it had been someone else. It was too hot to hang on to Susan for long. Jane was going to have to get her sister out of here before it was too late. She felt as if they were in an oven.

  Indeed, the curing barn was an oven of sorts, and it was definitely on Bake.

  THE IMAGE CAME to him just before he passed the second major intersection.

  A pipe slashing downward…no, a cane…it battered at a wooden wall…sprayed a few chips but did minimal damage…then pain shot through his hand and heat seared him from the inside out…

  Headlights flicking at him from the crossroad jerked Curran back to the drive.

  “What the hell was that?”

  His pulse picked up and his mouth went dry and he swore he could feel Jane, as if…as if she were inside him…as if she was trying to reach him.

  Nothing like this had ever happened before. Then, Jane—his Sheena—had never happened to him before.

  He sped through the night, somehow knowing that Jane’s very life was in his hands.

  The heat was getting to him. Had he switched it on rather than the air-conditioning? He stuck his hand in front of a vent. Cold air. Puzzled, he withdrew his hand.

  What in the hell was going on?

  He rolled down the window for fresh air, but no matter. He couldn’t seem to cool down. Weird—he was blazing hot but not sweating.

  He sped through the third intersection, then slowed and soon found the dirt road. Cutting between the tobacco fields, safe from other vehicles, he concentrated on Jane.

  Fear…anger…frustration…headache.

  Curran…Curran…Curran…

  She summoned him, but from where? And why was her presence getting weaker, as if she couldn’t keep focused?

  He concentrated on finding her in his mind.

  He entered the void, met only dark, then pulled himself back out.

  Jane must be in the abandoned house somewhere, he decided. And Susan, he could only hope that she was all right.

  Glancing at the approaching twin structures—barns—Curran dismissed them and stared ahead, trying to find the house by moonlight.

  Sheena, where are you? I’m coming. Help me find you!

  Dry heat seared him with shocking intensity as he rolled past the twin barns, still focused on finding the old house. Increasing heat rolled down the back of his neck and along his spine. Suddenly he gasped and put on the brakes, then glanced back over his shoulder.

  Pipes from what looked like a furnace snaked to the barns, no doubt supplying them with enough heat to dry the tobacco!

  Sheena?

  Heat sizzled his nerves.

  Curran, help!

  Jerking his focus onto the car, he put it in reverse and stepped on the accelerator. Practically flying backward, he waited until he was between the two barns to jam on the brakes.

  Curran threw open the car door, yelling, “I’m coming, Jane, hang on!”

  But which barn?

  He started with the right. The door opened easily.

  “Jane, are you in here?”

  Listening intently, he heard not the slightest sound. Felt not the slightest connection. And the fact that the air was warm but not hot drove him to check the other building.

  When he saw that the door had been jammed shut, he was certain this was it. Pulse surging, he made quick work of the simple but effective barricade.

  “Jane, are you all right?” he called out.

  And as the door slid open, heat blasted him so that he took a step back before entering.

  “Curran, here.”

  He entered the maze of drying tobacco, following the direction of her voice and the flash of light coming from the back of the barn.

  When he got close enough to see her, Jane was helping her sister to her feet. Susan didn’t seem to have the strength to stay there. He swept the teenager up into his arms, where she hung limply.

  “What about you?” he asked Jane. “Will you be all right for a moment?”

  “Go. I’m fine.”

  “I’ll get her into the car and be back for you.”

  Rushing Susan into the far cooler summer night, Curran felt for her pulse. It was fast. And her skin was not only hot to the touch, but it had lost its elasticity. He wondered how long she’d been captive. How hot had been hot? Enough to seriously dehydrate her, he suspected.

  Carefully, he set her in the front seat and hit the door lock, just in case whoever had done this was still around.

  “I have to leave you for a minute now.”

  Susan nodded. “Get Jane.”

  By the time Curran turned around, Jane was already in the doorway. She moved slowly and leaned heavily on her cane, but she appeared to be in better shape than her sister.

  Overcome with relief, he wrapped his arms around her and, when Jane clung to him fiercely, felt something within him opening wide. His heart?

  “Ah, Sheena, thank God you’re safe,” Curran murmured, his lips brushing her golden brown hair.

  Holding her tight, he didn’t ever want to let her go.

  “I’LL STAY with Susan,” Jane said.

  Though she had a bit of a headache, she was feeling better after drinking small amounts of water all the way to the hospital, where the water had been replaced by a sports drink with potassium.

  Susan had thrown up her water. The doctor had assured her that her sister would be fine, but at the moment, she was running a fever and her heart rate was in overdrive. The doctor had confined Susan to a hospital bed. She was hooked up to an IV—a saline drip—and would remain in the hospital until she stabilized.

  “No, you won’t stay, Jane Grantham!” her grandmother said. “The doctor told you to go home and get some rest, so go you will. You’ve had enough for today. I’ll stay.”

  “Nani—”

  “Don’t use that tone with me. I’ve made up my mind.” She looked to Curran, who stood quietly to the rear of the room. “You’ll see that my granddaughter is all right?”

  “You can count on me.”

  He might be speaking to her grandmother about her alone, but Jane knew they all three were included in that statement. They could all count on Curran McKenna.

  She forced down the sudden lump in her throat. Finally, a man she could trust.

  Thinking that both Susan and Nani would be safer here at the hospital than at home, Jane gave way. She kissed her sleeping sister’s forehead, then hugged her grandmother hard.

  “You stay put until you hear from Biggs,” Nani said, patting her on the back. “He’ll have his men combing that farm for
clues at first light.”

  Jane nodded. Not that she was convinced the sheriff’s men would find anything other than her and Susan’s cars.

  In addition to checking out the Potter farm for clues, Sheriff Biggs Mason meant to contact the Hudson Valley authorities about Gavin Shaw and to pick up Timothy Brady, even though Susan had maintained the assistant trainer’s innocence in this matter. Biggs now knew the whole story. Rather, as much as she’d told Curran and her family. Except for her mother, that was.

  Having called Mother in North Carolina but forced to leave a message on an answering machine, Jane wondered if she had gone out of town on a business trip with her new husband. If so, Jane was going to have to figure out what to do with Susan to keep her safe when the hospital released her.

  Curran drove, and exhaustion claimed Jane. One minute they were leaving the hospital parking lot, the next they’d arrived at Grantham Acres. But instead of stopping at her door, he drove straight to the guest house.

  “I’m not leaving you alone in that house tonight.” He cut the ignition. “You’ll be safer here.”

  Too tired to protest, still spooked from the night’s misadventure, Jane didn’t argue. She allowed him to take her arm and walk her inside.

  In the living room, Curran sat her in an armchair and filled a glass with the sports drink. She sipped slowly but couldn’t get enough of the liquid. How long would this parched feeling stay with her? she wondered. At least the headache was gone. Thank God Curran had arrived when he had or she might be in a hospital bed, too.

  Which brought her to something else about which she’d been wondering.

  “Curran, how did you really find Susan and me so quickly?”

  This was the first chance she’d had to ask. They hadn’t been alone since he’d found her. Nani had simply told her that Curran had come to the house looking for her and had seen Susan’s note, but beyond that, she had no idea.

  “The heat,” he said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I knew you were in trouble—I felt it,” he explained, sounding a little surprised himself. “And then on the way to the farm, I felt the heat, too. It was as if you were directly inside me and I was experiencing what you were.”