Brazen

by Patricia Rosemoor

  Already mourning him as the sun crept up over the horizon, desperate to be proved wrong, she shook him awake.

  Groaning, Clay blinked open his eyes. When they found her, they lit with a smile that twisted the knife inside her.

  “Time to get going,” she said, pulling free of him and standing. She already felt his loss.

  “What’s the hurry?” His smile was inviting. Seductive. “We could start the day out right…”

  “Or we could try to get out of here before Buck or whoever it was comes back to finish us off!” she snapped.

  His expression puzzled, Clay stared at her for a moment. Then he sat up, made sure the fire was out and got to his feet.

  When they started walking, keeping along the creek again, Siobhan kept some distance between them.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked.

  Tense, worried that he wouldn’t even make it back to the house alive, she said, “Last night was wrong.”

  “You didn’t think so, then. As I remember, you seemed to be enjoying yourself.”

  More than he realized, Siobhan thought, speeding up. As a married woman, she’d never quite reached the same kind of ecstasy with her husband as she had with Clay. Being with the man she loved had been an unforgettable experience. But knowing what she did now, she couldn’t ever repeat it—and if such things were possible, she would take it back to save Clay.

  “I did enjoy the experience until I realized you’ve been lying to me all along.” She couldn’t help being angry with him. Even if he didn’t believe in the prophecy, he knew she did.

  “That’s not true.” He grabbed her arm, stopped and whipped her around to face him. “I’ve never lied to you, Siobhan McKenna.”

  “Keeping something from me is the same thing.”

  No quick response. She glared at Clay and saw from his expression that he knew that she knew.

  “You forgot yourself,” she said. “You didn’t speak the words aloud, but I heard you just the same. The connection that puts you in danger is still there. If I had known, I never would have—”

  “Are you sure about that?” he interrupted. “It seems to me you wanted what I gave you enough that you didn’t worry about the niceties.”

  Heat seared her face and she ripped her arm from his grasp. “My mistake.” She started walking again. Faster. They were almost to the sharp curve of the creek where they would leave it and cross through tougher territory. “It was the adrenaline rush after almost being killed.”

  Clay easily caught up to her. Wanting in the worst way to run from him, she knew that would only exhaust her.

  “You’re really going to use that as an excuse?” Clay asked. “You’re not going to admit you wanted me, that you’ve always wanted me and that it was a mistake to kick me out of your life and then marry someone else?”

  “None of that was a mistake. Your coming back to Soledad was the mistake. And my hiring you. I should have sent you on your way like I did four years ago!” Maybe if she did now…maybe she could still save him. “But it’s never too late, Clay. When we get back, I want you to pack your things and leave! Go back to your own life and leave mine alone.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me!” Now Siobhan was walking so fast, she was practically jogging. Nearly breathless. Wanting in the worst way to break down and cry. She couldn’t do that, couldn’t show any weakness in front of Clay or he would never let her be. “Pack your things and I’ll write you a check for what I owe you. And then leave for good. I don’t ever want to see you again.”

  It was the only possible way to get him away from the danger…by getting him away from her. Even so, she died a little more inside.

  Clay laughed. “You really think you can get rid of me that easily, Siobhan? You can’t chase me away again. This time, I’ll leave when I’m ready. Someone tried to kill me yesterday, so now it’s personal. But don’t worry, once all this is settled, when the villain responsible for everything that’s been happening around here is stopped for good, then I’ll gladly ride away and never look back!”

  Siobhan stopped and gaped at him. Desperation gripped her. If he stayed, he would die—she knew it!—and she would be responsible. Before she could think of a way to convince him to go, a noise in the distance caught her attention—an SUV coming their way down the ragged curved dirt road a little too fast. A different vehicle, but that didn’t mean anything.

  Had their attacker returned to finish them off?

  “What are we going to do?” Siobhan looked around wildly, but they were in the open. This time, there was no place to hide.

  “Don’t panic yet…” Clay’s gaze was focused on the vehicle. “It’s Jacy come to find us.”

  Siobhan tried to pull herself together, to look natural before her sister-in-law got the SUV to the bottom of the pasture. But the moment Jacy pulled up, Siobhan realized that wasn’t really possible, not when she felt so sick inside.

  Jacy jumped down from the driver’s seat. “What the heck happened to the two of you?” Her expression was somewhere between worried and ticked. “The horses came back alone after dark, so there was no looking for you then. I’ve been worrying all night.”

  “You have reason to worry,” Clay said. “Someone tried to kill us.”

  Eyes wide, Jacy looked from him to Siobhan.

  “Whoever tried to kill us let the horses go.”

  “I guess we’d better get back, then,” Jacy said, looking around as if she feared the villain was still out there.

  “Right.”

  As she rushed for the passenger side, Siobhan made sure she avoided getting too close to Clay, but she could sense his seething anger. Whatever he’d been doing before to keep her out mentally apparently was no longer working. When he came up behind her, she gave him a swift warning look. He carefully avoided touching her.

  She climbed into the SUV and found her sister-in-law already in the driver’s seat. It was clear that Jacy hadn’t missed a thing between them, and her expression went dark. Holding herself tight, she swiftly looked away from Siobhan as she moved the SUV off and circled toward home.

  Siobhan guessed Jacy figured she’d slept with Clay. She didn’t look forward to what was sure to be a confrontation with her sister-in-law the moment they were alone. Actually, it was unlike Jacy to hold in anything. Siobhan didn’t know why Jacy wasn’t accusing her of being untrue to Jeff’s memory right now.

  But when they got back to the ranch, Jacy tersely said, “I’m meeting Raul in town for brunch. Assuming he hasn’t gone off without me while I’ve been rescuing you. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

  She let Clay off near the cabin at his request then deposited Siobhan at the house. Her anger was palpable, but for once Jacy kept what she was really thinking bottled up inside. Siobhan was simply thankful that she didn’t have to deal with an emotional outburst that would most certainly drive her to tears.

  CLAY COULDN’T SHOWER AWAY the bad feeling enveloping him. He’d known better than to trust Siobhan. He’d been right not to trust her all along. She was pushing him out of her life again. Only now he didn’t push so easily as he had the last time. During their argument and the silent drive back, he’d felt everything she’d felt, but he’d gotten no satisfaction from her frustration or her despair.

  Dressed in a clean black T-shirt and jeans, he took the rifle, which he’d reloaded, and hopped into the truck intent on tracking down a too-familiar varmint.

  He and Buck Hale had been enemies forever. He didn’t know if Buck had killed Siobhan’s husband or if he’d been trying to make the Double JA go bankrupt, but he was certain that had been Buck’s old truck he’d seen the day before. He was also pretty certain Buck wouldn’t mind seeing him dead.

  Clay had gotten the upper hand on the bastard before leaving town to find his mother’s people, something Buck would never forgive…

  “DO YOU TAKE THIS MAN to be your lawfully wedded husband…?”

  Sick inside, hardly able to br
eathe, Clay stood in the shadows at the back of the church and finally faced the truth: the woman he loved was lost to him forever.

  “I do,” Siobhan said, her expression peaceful.

  “You may kiss the bride.”

  Gut churning, he couldn’t look away as Jeff Atkinson swept his new bride into his arms and kissed her as though he never would stop.

  A spattering of applause broke out, and Clay simply couldn’t take any more. He headed out of the church and straight across the street to the Gecko Saloon.

  “Tequila, straight up.” When Tom set the drink in front of him, Clay threw the liquor to the back of his throat and smacked the shot glass back down on the counter. “Again.”

  “What’s eating you?” Tom asked, pouring an other.

  “I’m here to drink, not to talk.” Again he gulped the tequila. It was already burning all the way down his throat to his gut, but at least he knew he was still alive. “Just keep them coming.”

  “I’ll leave the bottle here and let you help yourself,” Tom said. “I hope you have someone who can drive you home.” He held out his hand. “Your keys.”

  Clay slapped them on the counter and poured himself another shot. It didn’t take long before he’d had enough to dull the pain, to nurse his broken heart, at least temporarily.

  It was finished, then. He’d spent the past two years trying to win back Siobhan. He hadn’t even stopped when she’d started seeing Atkinson. He hadn’t stopped no matter how many times she’d told him they were through. He’d known she loved him. But apparently, he’d been wrong.

  “Well, if it ain’t the loser mestizo.”

  The hair on the back of Clay’s neck stood straight when he recognized the voice of the man taunting him. He stiffened and closed his eyes and told himself to ignore Buck Hale, who stepped up to the bar next to him and took in the half-empty tequila bottle.

  “Trying to drink away your sorrows?”

  Clay ground his jaw closed and refused to let the man bait him.

  “Siobhan made for a hot bride, didn’t she?”

  “Hey, Buck,” Tom said, “take it easy over there.”

  “I’ll have what he’s having,” Buck said.

  Through his tequila-driven haze, Clay thought how Buck never actually used his name. If he called him anything, it was mestizo. It had been that way since high school. How did a kid learn to hate so completely and without reason?

  Buck took the shot glass Tom handed him and filled it from Clay’s bottle. He held the drink up to Clay like a toast, asking, “So what’re you gonna do tonight, mestizo? You know, when Atkinson’s poking Siobhan beneath the sheets?”

  Without even thinking, Clay slapped the drink away with one hand and threw the first punch with the other. Buck tore into him, then, like a madman. But no matter how many times he hit Clay, that didn’t erase the picture Buck had drawn of Siobhan with another man.

  All Clay’s resentment…all his rage…all his heartbreak…kicked him in the gut along with Buck’s fist.

  A red haze enveloped Clay’s mind, pure fury pushing him over the edge. He slammed a shoulder into Buck’s chest and they both went flying, only Buck hit the bar with the back of his head and went slack. Clay landed on top of the man and slugged him over and over.

  “You’re killing him! He’s already unconscious,” Tom said, but Clay didn’t stop until strong hands grabbed him and pulled him off.

  Tom quickly knelt at Buck’s side and felt for a pulse.

  The bastard groaned and rolled his head and tried to open his eyes…he was still alive.

  Hands continued to hold Clay captive, but he wasn’t trying to move anymore. He was trying to mentally cut through the haze to process what his unleashed temper had almost caused.

  He’d almost killed Buck…and there was a part of him that didn’t care…

  CLAY REMEMBERED HOW he’d felt when he’d sobered up. He’d been horrified. As if he’d been cut off at the knees, both by Siobhan’s actions and then, worse, by his own.

  What if he’d actually taken a human life?

  That day had been the lowest point in his life. Unable to live with himself—fearing being set off again if he saw Siobhan with her new husband—he’d left Soledad, had run to Navajo land to hide in shame.

  At least that had been his plan.

  The family members he’d never met had changed all that. Grandfather especially had taught him many things in addition to communicating with nature, including how to hang on to his temper. And how to respect himself.

  But that didn’t mean Clay would let Buck get away with trying to kill him. He would use what Grandfather had taught him about the power of the mind to get the truth from the man. If Buck was guilty of any of it, Clay would drag him to Sheriff Tannen and let the law take care of him.

  Stopping halfway down the drive of Hale Ranch, Clay composed himself, let his mind relax and find its way to a higher plane. He wasn’t about to let anything Buck said rile him. He wouldn’t lose his temper again.

  Taking a big breath, he continued on. Buck’s truck was sitting outside of the sprawling ’50s-style ranch house. Not the old truck that Clay had seen the attacker use. Though there were several vehicles parked across from the house, the old truck wasn’t among them. Clay felt a tickle of disappointment. And then dread.

  What if Buck was out somewhere in the truck, causing more trouble for Siobhan?

  Only one way to find out.

  Taking the rifle with him—just in case, not that he meant to shoot anyone—Clay approached the house. The front door stood open, so Buck must be inside.

  He rang the bell, but no one answered.

  He rang again, and then called, “Hey, Buck, you in there?”

  Still no answer.

  But the skin on the back of his neck crawled. He pushed the door all the way open and looked inside. Nothing seemed amiss.

  “Buck! Where the hell are you?”

  Something was wrong.

  He took a step inside and looked around at the worn furniture as old as the house itself. The walls were darkened with smoke from the stone fireplace—they looked as if they hadn’t been painted in decades. Clay made his way to the hall and then to the kitchen with its boomerang-design countertops and chrome-legged oval table and chairs. The sun poured through the windows. Clay blinked. The floor on the other side of the counters next to the sink looked like red glass. Another couple of steps and he saw why.

  Buck lay on his back, eyes wide-open and staring at the ceiling, a kitchen knife protruding from his chest.

  He’d been dead awhile and he’d bled out on the linoleum floor.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Siobhan couldn’t stand just sitting around alone, waiting for something to happen, waiting for the call that would inform her that Clay was dead or dying. Fetching a big bag of carrots from the refrigerator, she decided to go visit the horses, see how Garnet and Chief were doing after finding their way home in the dark.

  And Warrior—she couldn’t forget how close to death her poor boy had come.

  When the phone rang before she got out the door, she didn’t want to pick it up. She had to, though. She had to know.

  The caller ID let her take a full breath: it was her mother.

  “Hey, Mom, I’m really busy,” she said right away, not wanting to get into an argument over Clay with her mother. “Can I call you in a couple of days?”

  “Siobhan Rachel McKenna, don’t you be putting me off. I expected you to call yesterday to explain yourself, and when you didn’t, I called you last night. I’ll have you know I left three messages.”

  “I didn’t get them, Mom. Honest.” Siobhan sighed. “I just got home so I haven’t checked.”

  “You were with him, then.”

  Understanding her mother meant Clay, not wanting Mom to know the exact—and very dangerous—circumstances, Siobhan merely said, “Yes.”

  Her mother actually sobbed, making Siobhan wince. What was she supposed to say now?


  “The poor boyo,” her mother mourned. “There’ll be no saving him now. I always liked him, the way he was so devoted to you and all,” she said as though Clay were already dead. “I know you couldn’t help yourself, darlin’. I understand how that kind of love twists you around, makes you do things you know you shouldn’t.”

  “Maybe Clay will be the exception to the prophecy, Mom.” Not that she really believed that, but still, she wanted to have hope. “You know my cousins Tiernan and Declan both beat the odds. Both are happily married.”

  Aislinn had told her all about her brother Declan’s harrowing escape from death in New Orleans while saving the woman he loved. Aislinn hadn’t had the details on the cousin she’d met only once in South Dakota, but he and his wife had survived terrible circumstances, as well. They were now honeymooning in Ireland.

  “It’s not that I don’t want to believe there’s a way out of the prophecy,” her mother said. “But too many terrible things have happened to too many McKennas, your own father included.”

  “There’s no helping it now, is there?” Siobhan said, forcing herself to keep an even tone when she wanted to break down and cry. “What’s done is done. I can’t take it back.”

  “No, I guess not. I’m so sorry, darlin’, that I am.”

  Thankfully, her mother let her off the hook about Clay and Siobhan turned the conversation to her brother.

  “Mom, have you heard from Daire lately?”

  “No, and when I tried to call his cell phone, it was disconnected.”

  Her twin brother was leading the life of a gypsy, taking odd jobs and then moving on from place to place. He was finding himself, he’d told her. No details other than that. She knew he’d made it to the East Coast, but that had been a couple of months ago.

  “Well, I’m sure he’s all right,” Siobhan said, trying to put a cheerful note in her tone for Mom’s sake. “He’ll call soon.”

  “And I’ll get more gray hairs waiting,” her mother said with a big sigh.

  “Mom, I have to go. I really was on my way out to the barn to check on Garnet.”

  “I thought you said she’s better.”

  “She is!” Of course her mother knew nothing of what was going on here at the Double JA. “But you know me. A worrier. Just like someone else I know.”