Groom 0f Fortune (Fortune's Children: The Grooms Book 5)

by Peggy Moreland

  He turned his head to look at her over his shoulder. “He made the call. Link was the anonymous caller. The one who informed the police of your whereabouts.”

  Link had been responsible for her rescue.

  Isabelle played that realization over and over in her mind as Link slowly but methodically moved her through the crowd gathered for the dedication. She wanted to confront him with her discovery. Demand that he explain why he’d avoided telling her that part of his involvement in her kidnapping, when he’d seemed so anxious, so determined for her to hear the rest.

  But now wasn’t the time, she told herself. She needed to focus on her purpose here: to identify the men who could name Brad’s culpability in Mike Dodd’s death. Later, she promised herself. Later she would demand an explanation from Link. Later she would prove to him that he meant more to her than any material wealth. More than anything or anyone ever had in her life.

  But for now, she would focus on the people around her, their voices, just as he seemed focused on his promise to protect her.

  She felt as if her face would shatter from the stiffness of the smile she kept frozen in place. Thankfully, no one had mentioned her disappearance, or questioned her about breaking her engagement with Brad. Breeding, she thought with a silent prayer of gratitude for the manners it demanded. Everyone present was too well-bred to broach the subject in her presence.

  But she was certain that didn’t keep them from whispering about it—and her—behind her back.

  She could feel the weight of their gazes as they speculated about the man at her side. The man whose hand had not once left her elbow since he’d collected her earlier from the hospital administrator’s office and her father’s care.

  She thought she caught a few envious glances from women in the room as they silently appraised her escort. If her mind were not so fixed on listening to the voices that swirled around her, if her nerves weren’t so frayed, she might have preened a bit at their envious looks. Without question, she was with the most handsome man in the room. A fact that wasn’t lost on her. Beneath a black silk blazer, Link wore a white collarless shirt. Though the jacket was loose-fitting, it didn’t hide the width of his shoulders, the breadth of his chest, the muscles that played beneath the jacket with each move he made. Nor did it hide the slight bulge of the gun tucked into the shoulder holster he wore beneath it.

  “Templeton.”

  She shifted her gaze to see Hank bearing down on them. Though resentful of his part in removing her from the cabin the previous day, she forced her smile to remain in place and extended her hand in greeting. “Hello, Hank. How are you?”

  He took her hand, squeezed it between his own, his eyes searching hers as he peered at her intently. “Fine. And you?”

  He was worried about her, she thought in surprise. She could see it in his eyes, feel it in the firm grip he held on her hand. That he would be concerned for her touched her heart. She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’m fine.”

  She felt Link’s frown but refused to look at him. Couldn’t. Not and resist throwing herself into his arms and begging him to give their relationship a chance.

  Link stepped closer, his body forming a triangle of sorts with theirs.

  “Problem?” he asked Hank in a low voice.

  Hank glanced over at him, then returned his gaze to Isabelle’s. “He’s here,” he said for their ears only. “Rowan. He just arrived.”

  The blood drained from Isabelle’s face, leaving her feeling weak-kneed, helpless, exposed. She slicked her lips. “Where?” she whispered, and glanced covertly around.

  Link tightened his grip on her elbow, his fingers digging deep. “Don’t look,” he ordered in a clipped voice. “Avoid making eye contact, if at all possible.”

  She dropped her gaze to the hand still grasped tightly within Hank’s and slowly redrew it. “It’ll be impossible to avoid him if he approaches me. What will I say to him if he does?”

  “He won’t dare come near you,” Link muttered fiercely. “Not as long as I’m with you.”

  Isabelle looked at him then. Saw the cold fury in his eyes, the determined set of his jaw. And her love for him grew, as did her concern. “I don’t want you hurt,” she said, her voice trembling at the thought. “Not because of me.”

  His eyes held hers, burned into her soul, before he tore his gaze away. “Risk is part of my job.”

  His job? Was that all he considered her? A responsibility? A part of his job? She drew in a breath, fighting back the disappointment, and glanced over her shoulder…and nearly wept when she saw Riley headed her way. Not having seen him since her foiled wedding day, she turned to him, held out her arms. With a bearlike growl, he scooped her up in a big hug and swung her around. “Isabelle, I swear you’ve put on a good ten pounds,” he teased.

  She fisted her hands against his shoulders. “I have not!” she cried in mortification.

  He lifted a shoulder as he set her back on her feet. “Could’ve fooled me.” He pressed a hand low on his back and winced painfully. “In fact, I think I strained something when I picked you up.”

  She socked a fist against his chest. “You big fake.”

  He grinned and caught her hand. “Come with me. There are some people who are anxious to see you.”

  Isabelle glanced questioningly over at Link, who stood with his arms folded across his chest, watching them. He shifted his gaze from hers to Riley, his eyes narrowing.

  Riley returned the assessing gaze with one of his own. “She’s my sister,” he muttered resentfully. “I know how to take care of her.”

  Link held Riley’s gaze a moment longer, the air between the two men all but sizzling, then took a step back. “See that you do.”

  Releasing a pent-up breath, Isabelle turned and looped her arm through her brother’s. “And I have not gained weight,” she informed him primly, tugging him away from Link before one of the men threw a punch.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” Isabelle said, “I need to powder my nose.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Riley’s new wife, Angelica, offered.

  “Make it quick, okay?” Riley warned uneasily. “I’ll wait right here.”

  Isabelle shot him a wicked smile, hoping to assuage his concern for her safety. “Afraid I might share some of your deep, dark secrets with Angelica?”

  “He has secrets?” Angelica asked, arching a questioning brow at Riley, then tucked her arm through Isabelle’s. “Do tell,” she said, and led Isabelle away.

  “He’s wonderful,” Isabelle said, laughing as she glanced back and saw the worried look on her brother’s face. “But don’t tell him I said so,” she said confidentially. “He’s hard enough to live with as it is.”

  “Riley?” Angelica said in surprise.

  Isabelle reared back to look at her. “Don’t tell me that he has you fooled?”

  Angelica laughed. “No. I’m aware of his faults. And I love him, anyway.”

  Isabelle’s heart softened at the devotion she heard in Angelica’s voice.

  “Angelica!”

  Angelica stopped and turned, frowning. Then her face lit up. “MaryLynn!” She turned to Isabelle. “Wait right here,” she said, obviously anxious to visit with her friend. “I’ll just be a minute.”

  Isabelle shook her head, biting back a smile as she watched Angelica hurry away, then sighed, amazed at how well Angelica seemed to be holding up since her brother’s death.

  Sighing again, she folded her arms beneath her breasts and glanced around the room, rising to her toes as she searched for a glimpse of Link. When she didn’t spot him in the crowd, she dropped back flat on her feet, disappointed, then tensed as a man’s voice drifted to her. Ice spilled through her veins as the sound of it filled her mind, drawing an image of the last time she’d heard the voice. She turned slowly, searching for the source. Three men stood not thirty feet away, their heads tipped closely together, deep in conversation. She couldn’t see their faces, only the profile of one.

&n
bsp; She strained to listen as bits of the conversation floated to her.

  It’s him, she thought, her heart pounding against her ribs as the man’s voice drifted to her again. One of the men she’d heard at the church. She glanced wildly around, looking for Link, then back at the group of men, just as the one facing her lifted his head and met her gaze. Her heart shot to her throat as her eyes met Brad’s.

  Frozen, unable to move, she stared at him, knowing that the horror of seeing him must be reflected in her eyes, in her face.

  Murderer, was all she could think. Murderer!

  She saw his eyes narrow, his face harden…and knew that he realized that she was aware of his guilt. He’d kill her to keep her quiet. She could see it in his eyes. In the coldness there. Link had warned her that Brad would kill her, in order to keep her quiet.

  Link!

  She turned, searching for him again in the crushing crowd.

  When she didn’t see him, she glanced back at Brad. She took a step to her right, hoping to make her way around him. But he mimicked her steps, blocking her path. She took a step to the left, and he took a step to the left, blocking that avenue of escape, as well. Feeling the panic closing in around her, she turned and did what had always gotten her into trouble in the past.

  She ran away.

  Her breath burned in her lungs as she ran down the empty hallway. Footsteps pounded behind her, growing closer. Ahead of her was a doorway with an exit sign lit in red. If she could make it to the doorway and outside, she told herself, she was sure she would find there one of the men from the department Link had told her was on guard.

  She hit the door’s bar with both hands, shoved it open and stepped out into the blinding sunlight. She blinked rapidly, looking around…but saw no one.

  With her heart pounding, she spun to her left toward the front of the building…but was jerked back by an angry fist that knotted in her hair.

  She screamed, the sound ripped from her throat, as pain shot through her scalp. Something sharp, unbending, pressed low on her back.

  “Don’t make a sound,” Brad warned, his mouth close to her ear. “Just walk.”

  “No,” she sobbed, then stumbled forward with a cry when the sharp point pierced her dress and pricked at her back. She felt the warmth of her own blood dampen her skin.

  “Stupid bitch,” he muttered as he shoved her ahead of him toward the parking lot. “I could’ve had it all.”

  The confidence, the evilness in his voice filled her with rage. “You killed Mike,” she said angrily. “I know you did. You won’t get away with his murder.”

  He jerked open the door to his SUV and shoved her roughly inside, sending her sprawling across the passenger seat. “They can’t prove anything,” he said smugly, and waved the knife at her. “Get over. You’re driving.”

  Propped up on her elbows, Isabelle stared at the knife, frozen by fear. She had to stall, she told herself. Give Link time to discover she was missing. “Where are we going?”

  He leaned inside the truck and placed the knife between her breasts. “To visit my wedding gift to you,” he replied, his smile evil. “Lightfoot’s Plateau. Now, get behind the wheel,” he ordered, increasing the knife’s pressure against her skin.

  “She’s gone,” Angelica said, her eyes wide with fear.

  From the corner of his eye, Link saw two men heading for the front door. As they exited the building, the nervous dart of their gazes told Link that Isabelle had succeeded in identifying the voices.

  “Find Hank,” Link shouted over his shoulder to Angelica as he jogged away toward the hall where the rest rooms were located. “Tell him that Rowan’s got Isabelle.”

  He ran, rudely shouldering his way past guests huddled together, sipping champagne and leisurely talking, and raced through the hallway and toward the double doors. When he hit the outside, he stopped, breathing hard, a knot of fear twisting in his gut when he didn’t see a sign of Isabelle. Brad couldn’t get far, he told himself. Link had men stationed at all the entrances to the complex.

  He heard a squeal of tires, glanced toward the parking lot and saw Brad Rowan’s black Navigator headed for the rear of the lot and the security fence that lined it. He glanced beyond the fence toward the red-rock plateau in the distance. “The cave,” he moaned under his breath as the Navigator busted through the metal mesh and bounced over the rough terrain, dragging a panel of fencing behind it.

  Link took off at a run for his Blazer.

  Isabelle stumbled blindly through the dark cave, urged forward by the knife that Brad held pressed against her side. Fear held her in its grip, but she refused to give Brad the pleasure of revealing it to him.

  “You won’t get away with this,” she said, stalling for time.

  His laugh was high, bordering on demonic. “I’ve already gotten away with murder once. What makes you think I won’t get away with it again?”

  He jerked her to a stop and she spun to face him. They were in a small chamber now. Sunlight streamed through a tiny gap in the rocks above them that formed the chamber’s domed ceiling, revealing his face. “Because I know what you did,” she said, her voice beginning to tremble. “And so does Link.”

  “Templeton?” He took a threatening step toward her and placed the knife beneath her chin. “Is that where you’ve been?” He urged her chin up with the tip of the blade until her eyes met his. “Hiding out with Templeton?”

  She saw the wildness in his eyes, the madness, and didn’t doubt for a minute that he thought he could get away with murder a second time.

  “He’ll kill you,” she whispered. “Link will find you and he will kill you, if you harm me.”

  His eyes darkened, hardened, and the blade pricked at her skin, making her whimper. “You’re his lover, aren’t you?”

  When she refused to answer, he growled low in his throat. “You clung to your virginity as if it was some grand prize that I’d receive on our wedding night.” He shoved his face close to hers, the blade catching the feral gleam in his eyes. “But you didn’t make Templeton wait, did you? You gave yourself to him like the whore that you are.”

  She felt the sting of the razor-sharp tip as it broke her skin, the warmth of the blood it drew. The coppery scent filled her nose, shot fear through her veins. With her eyes riveted on Brad’s, she took a step back. Rocks crumbled beneath her feet and she bit back a scream, grabbing for him to keep from falling.

  “Careful,” he said, closing his fingers brutally around her arm. “You might fall and hurt yourself.” He leaned around her to peer at the dark pit behind her. He kicked a rock over the edge, listened until he heard it strike the rocks below, then laughed when the whir of hundreds of rattlers answered.

  Rattlesnakes! A shudder quaked through her and she squeezed her eyes shut, remembering the stories her brothers had told her about the rattlers that nested in the pit. She swallowed hard, pushing back the fear the memory drew, then opened her eyes again to meet Brad’s gaze. “Killing me will not save you,” she told him fiercely. “Link knows you murdered Mike. You may kill me, but you won’t save yourself in doing so.”

  “And who’ll believe him? Hmm?” he quizzed, stroking the point of the knife down the smooth column of her neck. “I saw the file your daddy’s been building on Templeton. The guilt of Templeton’s relatives will throw enough suspicion on whatever claims he makes about me to make people doubt his word. Besides,” he said, and stroked the point of the knife back up, forcing her chin higher. “Your death will be almost expected. Poor thing,” he murmured, puckering his lips sympathetically. “You’re already the talk of the town. Everyone knows you are emotionally unstable. You skipping out on our wedding only proved to them how unstable you really are. I’ll simply explain that, upon seeing me at the dedication, you realized what a mistake you’d made, lured me to this cave to beg my forgiveness and reestablish our relationship. When I refused to reconcile with you, you became hysterical and, though I tried desperately to stop you, you leaped to your death amo
ng the rattlesnakes.”

  “They’ll know I was murdered,” she said, her eyes wide and unblinking as they met the madness in his. “They’ll see the evidence, and it will point to you.”

  “What evidence?” he asked innocently. He turned the blade of the knife and grinned when she flinched at the pain. “I’m not going to lay a hand on you. You’re going to jump and those rattlers are going to do the job for me. Ever been snakebit, Isabelle?” he asked, then laughed when she whimpered pitifully, shrinking as far away from him as the knife would allow. “They’ll be all over you within seconds. You’ll die a slow, miserable death all alone.”

  “No, she won’t.”

  Brad whirled at the sound of Link’s voice but managed to keep the knife pressed against Isabelle’s throat. “Well, well, well,” he said, smiling as he eyed the barrel of the .38 Link had leveled on his chest. “If it isn’t Pueblo’s most dedicated public servant, Link Templeton.” He eased closer to Isabelle’s side and curved an arm around her waist, using her body as a shield. With the knife, he tipped her chin higher, while holding her against his side. “Why don’t you put down that gun, Templeton?” he suggested easily. “It makes me kind of nervous. My hands shake when I’m nervous,” he added, then smiled. “It’d be a shame if I accidentally sliced Isabelle’s throat.”

  “No, Link!” Isabelle cried. “Don’t listen to him. Shoot him! Please! Just shoot him!”

  Link tore his gaze from Brad’s to meet Isabelle’s. He saw the fear in the violet depths, the desperation. Another time, he might have weighed his chances, called Brad’s bluff. But not this time. Not when Isabelle’s life was at stake. Slowly he lowered the gun, then tossed it to the ground.

  “That’s better,” Brad said with a pleased smile.

  “For who?” Link growled. “Certainly not for you. I heard all you told Isabelle. Now you have two witnesses to kill. You’ll never get away with it, Rowan. You might have been able to escape the blame for one death, but never two.”