Renegade Moon (CupidKey)

by Rigley, Karen E.

  “No such luck,” Eric said. “You’ll have to wait awhile longer to get the Bar-M.”

  “I don’t want the blasted Bar-M. It’s nothing but rocks and scrub and cactus.” Once more Martin patted Eric’s shoulder. “Not good for anybody but an old Indian.”

  “You betchum,” Eric agreed.

  Martin turned to Destiny. “What a woman.” He kissed her cheek.

  “Not good for anybody but an old Indian,” she blurted, and blushed bright red while everybody laughed.

  Eric grabbed her in a hug. “Just this old Indian.”

  In the truck for the return trip, Destiny and Eric pounced upon an offered jug of water and Thermos of orange juice while listening to the tale of their rescue. Lee Duncan had been unable to stand by and allow Eric and Destiny to die. He’d gone to find Martin and had discovered Glen King also there, hunting for Eric. The three of them notified Joe Baker. By that time, the storm wailed in full fury and the creek already thundered through the Canyon of the Marriage Stones. There was no way to search for the missing couple.

  However, they’d not stood idle. Jard and Stoker were taken into custody, as was Lee, but Lee had already offered to turn state’s evidence and request clemency. Since he’d acted to save Eric and Destiny and would offer testimony, his chances looked good.

  “My car is at the top of this bluff,” Destiny said, pointing.

  “Wrong, sugar,” Martin countered. “It’s at the ranch. Domingo came with us this morning and drove it home.”

  “Oh. Then stop somewhere so I can phone my editor. My cell phone’s in my car.”

  “I’d like my associates to interview you first,” Glen King said.

  “The photos I took of the smugglers loading and unloading that day are in the hands of my editor, right this minute.”

  Glen glanced at Eric. “Then you didn’t delete them.”

  “I thought I did. She downloaded and copied them before I knew it.”

  “Right.” His voice revealed a mix of exasperation and admiration. “And how often do you do this type of thing? Can I offer you a position?”

  “Shut up, Glen. Don’t give her ideas,” Eric warned.

  Destiny laughed. “I’d rather consider this an interesting learning experience and not repeat it for a while.”

  As soon as it picked up adequate signal, Joe Baker allowed her a quick call on his cell to assure her editor that she’d lived through the ordeal and had the story. Ed had the photos downloaded and processed and complimented her on the picture quality. She told him the law wanted copies and he assured her he’d cooperate.

  They drove by the motel to pick up Destiny’s things and proceeded to the ranch. Iris stood waiting on the porch. Estrella rushed out, tears streaming, to smother them with hugs, and Domingo dabbed at his eyes at the sight of them alive. As Eric stepped up onto the porch, Iris smiled at him, but her gaze locked briefly with Martin’s.

  Ignoring Iris, Destiny headed for a hot bath, and to make a reassuring call to her parents. She didn’t want them hearing about her little adventure on the news before knowing she was safe.

  Eric lay claim to the other bathroom, and soon emerged still combing his damp hair. Martin, Glen, and Joe Baker were sitting in the living room. Eric headed over to join them when Iris caught his arm.

  “Can we talk?” she asked quietly.

  He certainly didn’t want to, but felt he must. They went outside and walked down the porch to stand at the far end.

  “Martin told me that Destiny saved your life last night.”

  “Yeah. She came after me. They drugged me. I would’ve drowned when the creek rose if she hadn’t.” He felt distinctly uncomfortable, never being good at handling emotional confrontations. If he couldn’t avoid one, he usually got angry.

  “Eric.” Iris rested a hand on his arm.

  He had to force himself not to shrink away from her, stoically staring straight ahead, not focusing on her in front of him. He felt ashamed, knowing he’d used her during the covert investigation by not discouraging her.

  Her hand dropped away. “You’ve been a busy boy with all the smuggling and spying. Lee Duncan, of all people. He was in over his head, of course. He’s really not the criminal type.” She gazed up at Eric. “Is there anything at all left between us?”

  Not meeting her eyes, he shook his head.

  “I’m sorry . . . that I hurt you all those years ago. I was such a foolish child.” She moved just into his side vision. “I’d hoped that . . . maybe we . . . could . . . that I could make it up to you. That’s why I came here to Las Nubes. I wanted us to start fresh.”

  “Iris, it was a long time ago. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

  Her violet eyes glistened with unshed tears as she stared into his face. “Not at all? You don’t feel even a little something for me? We meant so much to each other, Eric.”

  “Did we?”

  “I thought so. I can’t believe now it’s gone forever.”

  “It’s been gone a long time, Iris.”

  She tipped her head to conceal escaping tears that traced their way down her smooth face.

  Eric mentally squirmed. He truly felt no lingering love for this woman. At one time his feelings had flamed high for her, and her acquiescence to her family’s rejection of him had hurt and humiliated him. But that evaporated long ago. Now, he mentally cringed with a strong discomfort that he must deal with this scene.

  “Iris, don’t,” he said, swamped with embarrassed pity for her.

  Sighing, she turned away from him and blotted at her tears with her fingertips. After a moment she walked down the porch, descended the steps, and drove away. When the violet Corvette disappeared over the rise, Eric went inside without looking back.

  Two of Glen’s associates arrived to take Destiny and Eric’s statements not long after they’d finished eating. Destiny told them everything, including the overheard and recorded conversations, handing over what evidence she could supply. She admitted the reason she’d waited before notifying the authorities was her concern about Eric, plus not knowing whom to trust.

  After the others left, Eric, Destiny, and Martin went out onto the porch. Eric sat on the top step, leaned against an arch, and pulled Destiny down beside him. He draped an arm around her and nuzzled her clean-scented hair.

  “She thought I was a smuggler,” he said to his brother. “She said she suspected me because I act like a horse’s ass.”

  Martin laughed. “You do. Trust me.”

  “Eric, what happened to make Jard and Stoker decide to kill you?” Destiny asked.

  He shifted slightly, still keeping her close. “After we had that fight and you moved out, I didn’t want any more of it.” He scowled. “It had cost me my girl. I wanted to chuck it. I tried to find Glen and when I couldn’t, I settled for Jard. He and Stoker were at the dance. I told them I didn’t want them operating on the Bar-M anymore. I didn’t give away the investigation. I just told them to find another place to play their games. They didn’t want to change. Guess I got a little forceful with my arguments. Next thing I knew Jard hit me with a hypo and they shoved me into their car.”

  “How deeply is the Rampton Foundation involved?” Destiny asked.

  “Only Lee Duncan. He did a bit of embezzling to pay for expensive tastes. To cover up and pay back his ‘borrowing’ for an upcoming audit, he needed money. When Jard offered him a deal, he jumped on it. Guess he thought it simple enough. All he had to do was provide them with Rampton Foundation cover. Firearms went out, and gold, jewelry, and stolen artwork came in. The Rampton Corporation logo lends lots of credibility, easy for them to ship stuff under that umbrella, and operate off the radar, which is Jard’s preferred MO.”

  “So Iris wasn’t involved at all,” Martin murmured.

  “Nope, bu
t her arrival was galling, too. She showed up and threw everybody off. Even though she claimed it was to see me, we had to make sure. That’s why I, well, why I had to play along. I hated it. I don’t love her anymore and haven’t for a long time. But I had to wait to tell her it ended between us ten years ago, and that she was wasting her time. And I didn’t like the feeling that I was somehow misleading her. The whole thing stank. Period.”

  His voice sounded so thoroughly uncomfortable that Destiny twisted around to see his face. He wrinkled his nose as if a rotten odor fouled the air. “Iris talked to me that day we rode to the Indian caves,” she told him. “She said if I didn’t leave you alone, she’d make my life miserable. She said you still loved her, but that she’d hurt you and you were just punishing her for it. When you felt she’d paid the price, you’d want her back.”

  About halfway through, Eric started shaking his head. “Not true. Not at all.”

  “She claimed she’d given you up for quote, ‘other people’s stupid reasons,’ and she wasn’t going to give you up again. Eric, what are those reasons?”

  He sighed and patted Muddog, who had come seeking attention. “Iris’s family found out I wasn’t a blood Montoya, that I was adopted, and an Apache Indian to boot. So they packed her off to Europe to let the contamination wear off.”

  “Little brother,” Martin said quietly. “I told them. I told old man Rampton.”

  “Yeah, I know that.”

  Destiny saw that surprise could effectively wipe that aloofness off Martin’s face, as well as a smile.

  “You knew? How did you find out?”

  Chapter 14

  Eric gave one of his artful shrugs. “Jefferson Rampton came to me and said, ‘What’s this Martin says about you not being a blood Montoya, boy?’ and I said, ‘That’s right.’ And that was that.” Eric cocked his head at Martin. “Hey, hermano. It was never a secret. I can’t believe they didn’t know by just looking at me.”

  “Why did you tell Mr. Rampton that, Martin?” Destiny asked.

  “Because, sugar, my little brother came home from the army and took my girl right out from under my nose, that’s why. I was dating Iris. We were getting pretty thick, too. She’d visited the Double Bar-M, and things were cozy. Then along came Soldier-boy and that did it.”

  “Aw, Martin, it was the novelty she liked. I’ve always believed we’d have broken up if the relationship had run its course. And I know she really doesn’t want me back. She just wants to return to that time. When Iris first arrived, she talked to me some, and said she felt like her life has been boring and pointless these past ten years. She wanted to recapture the past, not me.”

  “You could be right, I guess. Anyway, sorry I told Rampton. At the time I just wanted to hit back.” He grinned at Eric. “Maybe you should thank me. You might be married to her if I hadn’t done it.”

  “Well, you ought to thank me, too. Maybe I saved you from marrying her.”

  Martin studied his hands. “That might not be so bad. Iris and I are more alike. We enjoy creature comforts like electricity, cell phones, the Internet, and cable TV. We like to dress up and go into the big city, eat fancy food, and attend the theater. And it seems we share a connection that still exists. Maybe it’s prickly, but it’s there.”

  “Have you told her that?” Destiny asked, assuming a matchmaker role.

  “Sugar, the last thing I told her of any significance was ‘good-bye’ ten years ago when she burned me.”

  “Yet after all this time, you claim a connection. So tell her.”

  Martin shook his head. “She doesn’t want to hear.”

  “Try,” Destiny pressed. “Or are you afraid she’ll burn you again?”

  “I’m older. Tougher. Burns heal.” Expression thoughtful, he stood. “I admit it felt . . . crazy seeing her again. Maybe I’ve learned to play with matches with a bit more care now. Who knows, eh?” With a little salute, he walked off around the house toward the vehicles.

  “Eric,” Destiny said, quickly unpinning Cupid where she’d fastened it to her clean T-shirt after her bath. She held out the brooch.

  Taking it, Eric grinned. “Good thinking, babe.”

  Rising, he overtook Martin at the corner of the house.

  “Hold up, hermano.” Catching Martin’s hand, he pressed Cupid into his brother’s palm. “This might help.”

  Martin arched a brow at the golden charm, and closed his fist over it. “Thanks, little brother. I’ll probably need all the help I can get.”

  Eric rejoined Destiny, dropping a kiss on her forehead. “Glad you thought of Cupid. Though he’ll likely need more than that to handle Iris.”

  “Don’t underestimate Cupid. He wove magic for us,” Destiny murmured, snuggling against Eric as they watched the Suburban drive past and zoom over the rise.

  Martin sat a full five minutes staring at the condo’s lighted window before getting out of the Suburban and knocking on the door. It opened. Iris stood before him, dressed in a lavender silk robe, holding a glass of champagne. His heart didn’t know whether to pound out of his chest or stop completely.

  “Well, think of the devil.” She stepped aside and motioned him in. “Have a seat.” She sat on the sofa, tucking up one leg, and patted a spot beside her.

  “Implying I’m the devil, eh? I guess that’s not all bad. At least you were thinking of me.” Martin sat down and stared at her glass. “What are you doing?”

  “Drinking champagne. Care to join me?”

  “Why champagne?”

  “I like champagne. If I’m going to get drunk, it might as well be on something I like.”

  “So that’s what you’re doing, getting drunk?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m doing and don’t try to stop me.” She drained her glass and poured more. “Join me? Getting drunk with a companion is lots more fun than getting drunk alone. Your goody-goody brother certainly never would drink with me.”

  “Iris, you know why Eric doesn’t drink.”

  “So his old man was a drunk. Big deal. Besides, Mr. Eric George Teetotaler certainly managed to toss one down at the birthday party. He did everything but drink it out of her slipper.”

  Martin chuckled at the memory. “That wasn’t champagne, my dear.”

  “What? But I saw him swill Destiny’s champagne when he asked her to dance.”

  “You saw him swill her ginger ale. Destiny doesn’t like alcohol.”

  She blinked at the news. “Did Eric know it wasn’t champagne?”

  “Yep, since he poured it for her.” Another chuckle escaped.

  “Oh, laugh, blast you.” Iris hit him half-heartedly with a small pillow. She extended her glass. “More.”

  Instead, Martin took the glass from her. “You don’t need this.”

  “Don’t tell me what I need,” she snapped, but didn’t fight him. She leaned back and swung her legs up onto the coffee table. Her long slender feet were bare, her toenails painted iridescent pearl. “People can be so stupid, though.”

  Martin stared at her. What a long-stemmed beauty. If possible, she’d grown even more beautiful with the passing years. “In what way?” he prompted, caught up in a strong curiosity to see just what she’d say.

  “In all ways.” One hand waved in the air. She eyed her glass but didn’t reach for it. “Here I am thirty-three years old. What do I have to show for it? Just a long string of mistakes.” Tears spilled, and she pressed her face against the pillow she’d hit him with.

  “Correct them.”

  “Ha! Eric told in no uncertain terms that it was too late. Not that he needed to tell me. I knew I was wasting my time when Destiny came on the scene. The way he looked at her . . . believe me, Martin. He never looked at me that way, not even way-back-when. But I couldn’t give up. What would I do if I gave up? W
hat’s next?” She peered into Martin’s face. “You have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.”

  The total change of subject threw him. “Me?”

  “Yes, you. Extraordinary. They look like topazes with that color of shirt you’re wearing.”

  He covered her hand with his own, toying with her slender fingers as his heartbeat jumped into overdrive. “Really,” he murmured.

  “I’ve always thought you were more handsome than Eric.”

  Martin searched her face. “You sure didn’t act like it.” Did he see sincerity? Even candor? Or did he only imagine what he wanted to see?

  “Looks had nothing to do with that madness.”

  “Madness,” he echoed with a short laugh. “That’s what you call it?” He turned slightly and propped his elbow on back of the couch. “If I’m so handsome, why did you throw me over for Eric?”

  Her fingertips went to her forehead and she closed her eyes, shaking her head. “He just overwhelmed me. He was so . . . alive. And he was so . . . needy.”

  “Needy?”

  “He needed . . . something.” Her hands tried to encompass it. “He’d been off in the army, burnt-out . . . and he fascinated me. I convinced myself it was love.”

  “Fine. Then why did you throw him over?” He felt tightness gather behind his eyes and his throat ached. This probing reopened the pain, but he couldn’t seem to stop.

  “Probably sensed we didn’t fit.” She shrugged, then tensed as if admitting a wicked confession. “No, that’s a lie. My parents, they were livid when they discovered Eric was neither a blood Montoya or Carrington. I knew, but they didn’t, and I didn’t tell them. For good reason as it turned out. The Blakes and Ramptons both can trace their bloodlines back to Adam and Eve. An Apache Indian didn’t fit into the family tree. And they assumed he wouldn’t inherit. They pressured me. My father threatened to disown me.”