by Pamela Toth
Brandon sat in a corner of the living room and scrolled through his e-mail on his laptop computer. Several messages needed replies, but he ignored them. It wasn’t the movie playing on the big screen TV that kept him from concentrating, though; it was knowing that Emma was nearby.
Sweet, sometimes shy Emma, with eyes that changed from calm gray to mysterious green and made him wonder what she was thinking. Emma, with a smile that warmed him and a laugh that invited him to share the joke. Emma he hated leaving, and that scared him, because she still didn’t trust him not to hurt her and he didn’t trust himself not to fall for her.
And that was the scariest part of all. Despite what he’d told her, there was no way he intended for either of them to sleep alone while she stayed at the ranch.
His bedroom was in the opposite wing from either his grandfather’s or Collin’s. The room next to Brandon’s was used by another one of his bastard half-brothers when he was in residence, but just happened to be empty this week. Leanne and Cade were still visiting Daisy and Ryder in Texas.
What was it about Emma that enabled her to sneak through Brandon’s defenses as no other woman had? Was it the innocent yet honest passion he was able to ignite in her, or the admiration he could see in her eyes whenever he came to her defense? He wasn’t used to being anyone’s hero.
Hell, he’d worked hard for everything he had and, until recently, it had been enough. He had a family now, a connection he was just beginning to appreciate. Sure, once in a while, in the darkest hours of the night, he’d felt a need for something more, something meaningful.
Perhaps it was Emma’s refusal to knuckle under to the cloud of suspicion hanging over her that made her special. All he knew was that when he was with her, the world and its pressures seemed to recede for a while. Just thinking about laying her down on the big bed in his room tonight had him squirming with discomfort.
The other two men were nursing bottles of beer while they watched the movie, which seemed to be nothing more than a string of explosions interspersed with brief exchanges of shouted dialogue. Brandon would much rather think about Emma, even if doing so made the fit of his jeans damned uncomfortable.
He was just about to get up and seek her out when she appeared in the doorway. Her hair had worked loose of its pins and was curling softly around her neck, and her eyes were smudged with fatigue. One look at her and Brandon felt guilty for leaving her in the kitchen alone.
“Hey, Emma,” Collin said, hitting the pause button on the remote control, “grab a beer and join us. This movie’s nearly over, but the finale should be great. I think they’re going to blow up the world as we know it.”
“Thanks, but it’s been a long day,” she replied, her gaze seeking Brandon out as her soft voice stroked his jangling nerves. Even if all they did tonight was fall asleep in each other’s arms, it would be enough.
Well, not enough, but he’d survive.
“I think I’ll turn in,” she said to Brandon. “Um, where have you put my bag?”
“I’ll show you.” His voice sounded strained to his ears. If the others got wind of his sudden attack of nerves, they’d tease him no end when Emma wasn’t around.
Garrett must have seen her fatigue. “Don’t worry about messing with breakfast in the morning,” he told her. “We’ll eat at the bunkhouse so you can sleep in.”
“Good idea,” Brandon replied as he turned off the computer and got to his feet. “We’ll see you two at lunch.”
Emma’s cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink as he crossed the room to where she was standing and hooked his arm around her. Maybe he didn’t have to stake his claim in front of his grandfather and Collin, but he found that he liked the idea. When it came to Emma, he was getting way too possessive. It was something he’d have to think about when he had more time—but not tonight.
“We’ll be turning in, too, as soon as this movie’s done,” Garrett said. “I’m riding out with Rand tomorrow to check out the calves in the northwest section, so it might be a long day.” He stroked his chin. “I doubt we’ll see you at noon.”
“I’m going into town in the morning,” Collin said. “The replacement motor for that water pump finally came in.”
With a last impatient nod, Brandon hustled Emma down the hall. When they got to his door, he struggled briefly with his rising desire and then he kissed her cheek.
“The room next to mine is empty, if you want it,” he offered.
Emma blinked and looked away. “That’s fine.”
From the wistful thread in her voice, he realized she’d taken his offer all wrong. Tucking a finger under her chin, he tipped up her head and looked into her eyes. “I’m trying to be a gentleman here,” he said dryly. “But it’s not what I want.”
Some of the pertness returned to her voice. “And what is it that you want?”
Brandon let his actions speak for him. Later, when Emma was sound asleep with her head pillowed on his shoulder and her hair tickling his chin, Brandon still didn’t have an answer for that last question she’d fired at him.
When it came to Emma, just what was it he wanted?
Even though Brandon intended to let her sleep in the next morning, it was still early when she appeared in the kitchen wearing jeans and a long-sleeved shirt.
“Good morning,” she said softly as if she was reluctant to disturb him.
He’d been seated at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and the newspaper. The other men had left a couple of hours ago and he’d already made several business calls.
As he returned her greeting, he got to his feet and pulled her into his arms. “How did you sleep?” he asked. Several times in the night the urgent hunger for her that he couldn’t assuage had brought him awake, but he’d been reluctant to disturb her. He’d never thought he’d be taking a cold shower with a woman in his bed, but that was exactly what he’d done this morning.
“I slept well,” she replied. “How about you?”
The lie danced on his tongue, but refused to be spoken out loud. “I don’t need a lot of sleep.”
She linked her arms around his neck, her eyes twinkling playfully. “Does that mean a nap later is out of the question?”
His body’s instantaneous response to her teasing suggestion left him light-headed. “Why wait?” he demanded, calling her bluff.
“I thought I was getting a riding lesson this morning.”
He leaned closer, her scent flooding his brain. “That can be arranged,” he whispered directly into her ear. Before she could say anything else, he captured her mouth with his. When he finally released her, the only thought in his head was getting her back to his bedroom. He was about to scoop her into his arms when he heard a car door slam outside.
Who’d be coming by at this hour of the morning and expect to find anyone at the house? Releasing Emma, Brandon crossed to the front window and flipped back the corner of the curtain.
“Is someone here?” she asked.
Brandon’s stomach did a slow roll. He didn’t like what he was seeing, not one bit. He hadn’t realized she was looking over his shoulder until she spoke.
“It’s the sheriff,” she exclaimed with a sudden lilt to her voice. “Maybe he’s gotten the results of the blood test.”
Before Brandon could say anything, she’d opened the door and rushed outside. He was following so close that he nearly ran her over when she slammed on the brakes, and he knew she saw what he’d noticed through the window.
The sheriff hadn’t come alone, and his expression was much too grim for him to be bringing good news. When his gaze met Emma’s, Brandon could have sworn he saw a flash of pain cross the other man’s face beneath the brim of his Stetson before he turned expressionless.
The deputy, the same one who’d come to the café, fell in behind his boss as they both approached the house.
“Good morning, Emma, Brandon,” the sheriff said in a flat voice. “May we come in?”
Emma had backed up until she was leaning agains
t Brandon, and he could feel the tremors of alarm shivering through her. Since there was no way any test could match Emma’s blood to the crime scene, he couldn’t figure out why the sheriff looked so serious, unless he was trying to scare her into admitting something.
The idea made Brandon angry. He tucked her behind him and folded his arms, spotting Collin’s pickup coming up the long driveway with a dust plume behind it.
“What is it you want?” Brandon demanded of the sheriff. He felt Emma’s light touch on his forearm, but he maintained his defiant stance. If the sheriff was here to harass her in any way, he’d have to go through Brandon first.
“Don’t make this any harder than it already is,” Sheriff Rawlings said as the deputy shifted to stand at his side.
It must have been clear to the sheriff that they weren’t going to be invited inside. He squared his shoulders, his expression grim.
“Emma, we got the results back an hour ago. I’m sorry, but the DNA test we took from you was a match to the blood and tissue samples found at the scene.”
Shock slammed into Brandon. From behind him Emma moaned softly.
Had he been wrong about her? After he left her apartment that night, had she gone to the woods and somehow been involved in that poor woman’s murder? As soon as the thought formed in his head, he dismissed it as ridiculous. There had to be some other explanation.
“No!” she exclaimed. “That’s not possible! I wasn’t there.” She grabbed Brandon’s shirt. “You believe me, don’t you? The people at the lab are human. Someone made a mistake.”
“They must have mixed up the samples.” Brandon’s mind raced ahead to what must be done next.
“They’re very careful. They ran the test twice.” The sheriff put his foot on the bottom step and stared hard at Emma. A muscle jumped in his jaw. “Emma Stover, based on the results of the DNA test and the testimony of an eyewitness, I’m here to arrest you for the murder of Christina Montgomery. You’ll have to come with us.”
Nine
Emma’s worst nightmare had begun.
The familiar list of warnings Rafe recited as he read Emma her Miranda rights barely registered; neither did the snap of the handcuffs on her wrists.
“It’s procedure,” he said gruffly.
She was dimly aware of Brandon watching her, his face flushed with impotent rage and his hands knotted into fists at his sides as Collin held on to his arm.
When Rafe stood back, Brandon put his arms around her and buried his face in her hair. After he let her go, she saw his lips move, but whatever he said was blocked out by the white noise roaring in her head. Someone put a jacket around her shoulders, but it didn’t stop her shivering.
Instead of taking her in his Cherokee as she’d hoped, Rafe helped the deputy put Emma in the back of the other patrol car. As they headed down the driveway, she twisted around to look through the rear window at Brandon. He grew smaller and smaller as he stood watching her departure. She wanted to wave, but the cuffs made that impossible.
A tear rolled down her cheek as she turned back around.
“What’s going to happen to me now?” she asked the deputy.
“You’ll be booked and arraigned,” he replied, glancing in the rearview mirror. “If the judge sets bail and you can pay it, you could be out again by this afternoon.”
“What do you mean ‘if’?” Emma asked. “Are you saying he might not?”
He shrugged as he slowed and turned onto the main road. “It’s a capital crime,” was all he said.
Nausea threatened when Emma realized it didn’t matter whether or not the judge set bail for her. She didn’t have the money to pay it, nor could she afford an attorney. How much would an overworked attorney assigned by the court care that she was innocent?
“I need to talk to someone from the public defender’s office right away,” she said anxiously. “Can you call them on your radio so they can meet us when we get there?”
“Nope.”
“Why not?” Hysteria edged Emma’s voice. With the confinement of the handcuffs and the grillwork in front of her, she felt as though she were already in jail.
This time the deputy didn’t bother to look in the mirror. “No more questions,” he said instead as he accelerated. “Just be quiet until we get to town.”
Well, who could blame him, Emma thought cynically. From the deputy’s point of view, he had a dangerous criminal in his back seat. This was Whitehorn, Montana. Regardless of his training, transporting a murderer had to make him just a little nervous.
Emma wished she could remember what Brandon had told her, but she hadn’t been able to hear past the buzzing in her ears. Even though he’d hugged her so hard that Collin had to peel him away, she wasn’t even sure he still believed in her innocence—not when there was such irrefutable proof she was guilty.
Sick at heart and scared to death, Emma hung her head and closed her eyes in a futile attempt to staunch the flow of tears.
As soon as the squad car transporting Emma had disappeared down the road with the sheriff’s Jeep in close pursuit, Brandon turned helplessly to Collin. The indecision gripping Brandon was so unusual that he barely knew how to combat it. He was used to action, to taking charge, but now he wasn’t sure what to do first.
“Damn it, I don’t even know any attorneys in this state,” he growled with frustration. Even though Emma hadn’t wanted a lawyer earlier, he should have lined one up, anyway. How could he have allowed himself to be caught so unprepared? He’d just been so sure the DNA test would clear her. None of this made any sense.
“I’ll take the Jeep out and get Garrett,” Collin offered. “I’ve got a pretty good idea where they are, and he’ll know what to do about finding the best criminal attorney around. Let me take your cell phone so he can make some calls while I drive him back in.”
Brandon gave Collin a grateful look and handed him the phone. “I’ll use the one in the house to line up the money for bail,” he said, thinking ahead. “I’ve got to change clothes and then I’m going to town to be there for Emma.” He ran a hand through his hair, his mind spinning. This was all so unreal. A few minutes ago they’d been looking forward to spending the day together and now she was on her way to jail.
“How will you keep me posted if I don’t have my phone?”
“We’ll meet you in Whitehorn as soon as we can get there,” Collin reassured him. “I’ll keep the phone on so you can call us.”
“I don’t know how this happened,” Brandon mumbled half to himself.
“Have you considered that she might be lying?” Collin asked bluntly.
“No, I haven’t.” He felt guilty as hell for that one second he’d allowed a doubt to creep into his head before he’d banished it, but he wasn’t about to admit that to Collin or anyone else. “I know Emma. She’s telling the truth.”
“Okay, then,” Collin said with a nod. He slapped a hand on Brandon’s shoulder. “I’d better get moving.”
“Thanks,” Brandon said absently and then he hurried into the house.
Later in the day, as the time of Emma’s arraignment crept closer, Brandon wore a restless path in front of the courthouse while he waited for his grandfather. At least the reporters hanging around the front steps weren’t same ones who had been at Emma’s apartment. None of them paid the slightest attention to Brandon.
Finally he spotted Collin, Garrett, and an older woman walking from the parking lot. Both men had changed to clean dark jeans and shirts topped by Western-cut jackets. Brandon himself was wearing a suit and tie he’d left at the house on another occasion and had been damned glad to find in his closet.
At the sight of his relatives, the ball of fire burning a hole in his gut abated just a little. When they’d spoken on the phone, Garrett had assured him that one of the best criminal guns in the state kept an office right in Whitehorn. Then he offered to throw his hat in with Brandon’s at the arraignment. The Kincaid name was well known in these parts and Brandon prayed it might influence
the judge into granting bail.
Brandon was still amazed at how quickly the Kincaid men had sprung to his support, dropping everything else to help him. He’d heard about family loyalty, but he’d never experienced it firsthand. As he watched them hurrying toward him, their images blurred and he had to blink a couple of times to clear his vision.
Now Garrett approached with his arms outstretched. He enfolded Brandon in a brief, hard hug before letting him go again. “How you holding up?” he asked. “How’s Emma?”
“I’m fine.” Brandon shrugged his shoulders in a vain attempt to loosen the knots of tension digging into him. “Emma’s okay, I think. They only let me see her for a couple of minutes.” He’d wanted so badly to break her out of there that he’d been trembling with the effort it took to not act on an impulse he knew would only make the situation worse. He was a man accustomed to working within the system, but this time his usual iron control was dangerously near the breaking point.
“She keeps insisting she’s innocent, but of course no one in there believes her,” he said bitterly. “In their eyes, she’s already been tried and convicted.”
“The DNA test is pretty damning,” said the woman with Garrett. Small and trim, her short gray hair streaked with blond, she looked vaguely familiar. Her face had been lined by time, but her voice was vibrant. Her blue suit matched her eyes and the tasteful pearls at her neck appeared to be genuine.
“This is my grandson, Brandon Harper,” Garrett said. “Elizabeth Gardener.”
Brandon recognized the name. Not only was she well-known, but unlike some successful criminal attorneys she had a reputation for absolute integrity.
“Call me Elizabeth.” She shifted her briefcase and extended her hand. Garrett had told Brandon on the phone that she was his first choice, and he’d warned that she’d be expensive.
“Hang the cost,” Brandon had replied at the time. Where he was concerned, there was no price tag on Emma’s freedom.
“Murder isn’t always black and white,” Elizabeth said now. “A client doesn’t necessarily have to be innocent for me to give her the best defense I can, but I have to believe I can help her.”