“Save the concern for someone who cares.” She turned toward the wall. “Please leave.”
“What did that bastard—”
“You’re the bastard, Trevor. Now, get out.”
He caught her by the shoulders. For an instant his hands felt reassuring, like he could cure all her ills.
“I’ve been following you around all day, Jace. What happened? What did you find out?”
“That you lied.” His hand tightened on her arms.
“About Hunter?” he demanded viciously.
“We’re in the process of getting him free. They agreed since Papa has lost his mind and you are dead.”
“I’m what?”
“When Tom came to the cabin this morning…” She paused thinking how many years ago that seemed. She wished it were another lifetime. “I told him you were dead.”
“From the way you’re acting, it must have been wishful thinking. I thought we parted on good terms.” He tried to turn her around, but she held fast. “Great terms,” he corrected.
“This isn’t a joking matter.” It hadn’t been then, either, but she wasn’t about to acknowledge the fact.
“Where you’re concerned, Jace, I stopped joking five years ago.”
She ignored the way his words, his voice, his very presence tugged at her, willing her to believe. She did. Didn’t she? “Tom was sending those cowhands after you. I told them a bounty hunter had come and tried to take you away. You resisted arrest, and the bounty hunter shot you.”
“Quick thinking, Jace. Thanks for saving my bacon.”
“I wish it were true.”
He jerked again, this time spinning her around. He was furious. “What the hell happened today?”
“I met Miss Abbie Brownley.”
“Great.”
“Funny you would think so. She told your life story and it wasn’t a pleasant tale. Nothing like the version you tried to feed me.”
“Why do I get the feeling this is going to be bad?”
“Because you know you lied.”
“Damnit, Jace. Come on. Out with it. What did I do?”
“You were…let’s see if I recall Abbie’s exact words…‘seeing Miss Ana Bowdrie regularly.’”
His hands fell limp. He didn’t shout or in any way show anger. He seemed too shocked. “She lied, Jace.” His voice was low with the tones of incredulity. Was she imagining it, hearing what she wanted to hear? Instead of the truth? Could she ever believe this man again?
“What reason could she have for lying now?” Jacy asked. “After all this time?”
“There’s always a reason to lie.”
“Spoken like one of the best, by one of the best.”
“Come on, Jace.” He pulled her toward the bed. “Sit.” Pushing her down, he squatted on his heels in front of her. When he tried to take her hands, she balled them into fists.
“What exactly did she say?” He began to pry her fingers up, one by one by one. “About me? About Hunter? About Tom? Out with it. All of it.”
“She saw you murder Ana.” Jacy drew a heavy breath. “Abbie Brownley saw the struggle, saw Ana fight for her life, saw her slash you with the brooch, saw the blood, the…” She couldn’t go on. Pain rolled down her face in the form of bitter, salty tears. “Get out,” she said. “I wish you were dead.”
He didn’t move a muscle. “No, you don’t.”
“You can’t possibly know how much.”
He squeezed her hands. “She lied, Jace. Ana Bowdrie did not cut me with that brooch. Someone else did. After Ana was dead. Ask Hunter, he’ll tell you. And I damned sure didn’t kill her. How many times do I have to say it?”
“Saying it will never be enough. If you don’t leave this minute, I’ll call for help.”
Then the irony struck her. She couldn’t send him away. What if he got caught? Trevor alive and well would ruin any chance of Hunter being released. That was a terrifying thought. What if she sent him into the streets and someone recognized him and Hunter wasn’t pardoned after all? That’s all it would take. Someone to recognize Trevor.
Clem Spence was out there. Tom might return to town with Mama Dee.
Freeing her hands, she struggled to her feet and almost toppled him in her effort to get to the other side of the room, which meant the other side of the bed. She didn’t dare look at the bed. “You’ll have to stay here until dark,” she said.
“Change of heart?”
“Not on your life. I just don’t want you to get caught until Hunter is free. If they find out you’re alive too soon, they won’t free him.”
“That’s puzzling.”
“Why? You’re guilty. He isn’t. With you dead and Papa without a mind, there’s no one left to…”
“To what, Jace?”
“I don’t know.” She hated to admit that it made no sense. Hated to, yet at the same time, that soft vulnerable spot deep inside her cried for there to be more to this story than met the eye, for Abbie to have been lying, for whatever purpose. The purpose didn’t matter. Not right now. Right now all that mattered was that Hunter be set free. And that her faith in Trevor be restored. For good. She couldn’t live vacillating between truth and lie, lie and truth.
“Why would Abbie Brownley lie?” she asked again. “Tom was there. He told her to tell the truth.”
“Help me, Jace. Together we’ll figure it out.”
“You figure. I have what I came for.”
“Do you?”
She forced herself to remain unresponsive, while inside she wept.
“You want to believe me. I know you do. I’ve never lied to you, Jace. I never will. Just hold off judgment until we see Hunter. Let him tell you.”
His soft words and short sentences peppered her like a gentle, healing rain. “Tell me what?”
“Why he was there that day. Why I was there. That neither of us killed her.”
“Then who did?” It was a wail that started deep in her heart and shattered her chest when it escaped. Trevor skirted the bed and took her in his arms. When he pulled her against his chest she was more glad than sorry.
“Don’t give up on me, Jace. Not yet. Not now.”
Not now? What did he mean? Was she so transparent? Was her love so obvious?
Her love. She heaved a heavy sigh. “Convince me, Trevor. Please convince me.”
“I don’t want to convince you, Jace. I want to prove it to you, for once and for all. But first let’s get Hunter safe and clear.”
Twelve
It was a fair enough trade. First get Hunter out of Yuma Prison, then clear Trevor of the murder charge—of both murder charges.
“I’ll have to do that,” she told him. “You’re supposed to be dead.”
He chuckled. “Dead, huh?” With a sweep of his hand down her back, he pressed her closer. In a wanton display of erotic passion, his palm lingered on her bottom, rubbing her against the rigid evidence that he was very much alive. “How dead do I feel, Jace?”
Pulling away never entered her mind. The only direction she moved was forward, into him, against him, while an intense yearning clamored inside her. Now that she knew how good it could be, wanting him was worse. Better. More wonderfully compelling than she had ever imagined. She, who had tempted and teased for this very thing, had only yesterday learned how glorious it could be.
Her arms went around his neck just as he lowered his face. Their lips met of mutual accord, delving, exploring, inciting until her head spun and kissing him became the most important thing in the world.
But soon reason returned. Reason—fear for Trevor. She had safe passage to Texas, but Trevor was on his own. Thought to be dead, one sight of him could change his journey into an all-out flight for his life. She drew back.
“Wes Hardin is sending people to look out for you.”
“Hardin?” His face hovered near. His presence surrounded her, making it impossible to think about anything except kissing him, loving him. But the reality of their situation was worse, so
she strove to clear her head.
“When I wired him to send proof of Papa’s failing mental health, I told him about you.” She felt him stiffen. His hands slipped from her back, to her shoulders.
“Damn, Jace. I was supposed to be dead.”
“Trevor,” she chided, “give me credit for having more sense than that. I didn’t call you by name.”
“Oh? What did you tell the venerable Wes Hardin? Maybe I should start watching my backside. If he got the wrong message, I’ll be a cooked goose.”
“He got the right message.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me. I sent the wire before I met Abbie Brownley.” Their eyes held in the dim interior of the small room.
“Damn,” he said finally. Drawing her close again, he nuzzled the top of her head with his chin. “Think the cards will always be stacked against us?”
“The truth would help.” She inhaled, then exhaled sharply. “Or hurt.” She didn’t see how it could hurt any worse, though. The pain she experienced at Abbie’s house was still with her, as physical a presence as Trevor himself.
It encompassed her, challenged her love for this man. How could you love someone you doubted? Would they ever straighten out this unholy mess? And if they did, where would that leave her and Trevor?
A knock on the door momentarily paralyzed them. Trevor’s grip tightened around her. The knock came again.
“Who’s there?” she called, scarcely able to move.
“Supper, ma’am.”
Jacy relaxed. “Tom ordered supper,” she explained.
Trevor faded into a corner away from the door.
“Just a minute.” She blew out the lamp. It left the room in virtual darkness. When she opened the door, it was only wide enough to take the tray from the curious boy.
“Need me to bring some lamp oil, ma’am?”
“No. I, uh, I haven’t lit it yet.”
“Here,” he started into the room. “I’ll light it for you.”
“No.” She barred the way. “I’ll be fine. I like it dark. I can light the lamp when I’m ready. Thank you.”
“If you’re sure?”
“I’m certain. Thank you.” Before she could close the door, he added, “If you need anything just call. I’ll be in the office till midnight.”
“Thanks,” she mumbled again, closing the door.
Trevor secured the latch, while Jacy held the tray in trembling arms and leaned back against the door. She felt him take the tray and heard him set it on the small table.
He struck a match and relit the lamp. The yellow circle of light cast gloomy shadows around the adobe walls. “Midnight,” he was saying, “that’s good to know. I’ll slip out after that.”
“And go where?” The thought of him alone on the streets panicked her.
He shrugged, lifting the towel that covered a plate of some kind of grilled meat, beans, and several thick tortillas. “Come eat.”
Wearily, she moved toward the table. “You need it more than I,” she said. “I’m sure Tom will have breakfast sent around. No telling where you’ll be by then.”
“We’ll share,” he insisted. “Sit here.”
She sat on the bed, while he slapped a couple of slices of meat onto a tortilla, rolled it and handed it to her. “Eat, Jace. Way things have been going, neither of us knows where we’ll be come breakfast time.”
“I have a plan,” she said. “It’s you I’m worried about.”
His eyes probed hers, saying things she absorbed like a dry sponge. “I have a plan, too. I’ll slip out after midnight and meet you in El Paso.”
“El Paso.” El Paso sounded suddenly romantic instead of dismal. Thoughts of meeting Trevor there made her heart beat faster. But again fear for him surfaced. “How will you get there?”
“Not as fast as by train, but I’ll make it. Don’t worry about me. Didn’t I get out of this territory once before without your help?”
The suggestion was designed to ease her mind. Instead, it caused her further concern. “Look for Hardin’s men, Trevor. I’m sure he wired someone in the area. Let them find you.”
“If they don’t, I’ll hook up with the Chinese underground.”
“That again.”
“It worked before.”
“In El Paso.”
“It got me out of Arizona last time, sweetheart.”
The word acted like balm to her wounded spirit. “Oh, Trevor. I don’t want things to be like this.”
He was beside her in a split second. Kneeling in front of her, he drew her off the bed and into his arms. “I’ll be fine, Jace. We all will be, now that Hunter’s going to be free.”
“He isn’t free yet.”
“I know. But all we can do is trust them to be telling the truth.”
Them. The dignitaries who let the Kimbles down last time. “Tom turned out to be a friend, after all.”
Trevor snorted. “What’d he do, offer to give back the Diamond K?”
“No. I wouldn’t take it if he did.”
He drew her back, stroked loose strands of hair from her face, studying her curiously. “What’s that?”
“It’s over. That part of my life is finished. I said good-bye. I told Tom that earlier today. He’ll bring Mama Dee to town tomorrow, and we will leave.”
“No regrets?”
“Millions,” she admitted. “But none that won’t be healed. I burned my last pair of fancy pants, Trevor. I’d outgrown them long before that. I’m ready to move on.”
“Ah, Jace.” Scooping her in his arms, he maneuvered them onto the bed. His lips covered hers, even before he had them fully stretched, length to length. “I’m ready to move on, too.”
She wanted to ask what he meant. Move on. It sounded ominous. On the other hand, perhaps he meant move on to better times, for both of them. She couldn’t fathom a future without Trevor.
With his lips on hers, his hands on her, she felt whole for the first time…not in five years, she realized, but ever.
Shifting them, he leaned above her on an elbow, studying the length of her, while his hand fondled her breast through the taut serge of her dress.
“Can’t say I remember ever seeing you in a dress before today.” He moved his hand down, fingers splaying across her waist.
“Did you like the fancy pants better?”
He winked, pretending to consider. “Depends on which one’s easier to get you out of.”
His sensual teasing, which was far from teasing for he had already scrunched up her skirts and found the opening in her pantaloons, took her breath away. And when she felt his fingers where only his had played, the fire inside her blazed.
She pulled his face to hers, kissed him open-mouthed and wet. With her hands to his cheeks, she lifted his face mere inches. “I want you, Trevor. As much as I did last night.”
He grinned, but it was stiff with reciprocal want. “Me, too, Jace. I thought one time would do me, but damned if I don’t want to make love to you worse than ever.” His lips found hers again, while his fingers continued their sensual dance below. “This has never happened to me before.”
Before? Suddenly it all came back. Instead of heat, she felt chilled. As cold as she had felt earlier in Abbie Brownley’s house, hearing the woman claim that Trevor had been a regular customer of Ana Bowdrie’s.
A regular customer. Even while he professed to want to make love to her so badly. Or was it because he couldn’t make love to Jacy that he had gone to Ana? Somehow she thought that should be heartening, but it wasn’t. She should blame Hunter, not Trevor. Aside from the possibility that Trevor murdered Ana, the thought of him with Ana, like this, hurt almost as much as anything had during the whole ordeal.
Pulling away, she turned her face aside.
“What’s the matter?” he mumbled into her hair.
“I can’t bear to think of you with…with Ana Bowdrie.”
His arms tightened around her, even as she jerked down her skirts. Dislodged, hi
s hand found her back, stroked her reassuringly. “I wasn’t with her, Jace. Not ever. Not even once.”
“Or with anyone.” She regretted the words the minute she spoke them, for she felt him tense. Expelling a heavy sigh, he drew her as close as was humanly possible. His arms were strong and tight and should have made her feel secure. But nothing could ever make her feel secure. Nothing except proof of Trevor’s innocence.
He tugged her chin, forcing her to look at him. His eyes were in shadow, but she sensed their intensity. She wished she knew what he was thinking. How he felt about her. Whether Mari was right or wrong. Could she teach Trevor to love her? Dare she try?
“So, how was Junior?” he asked, taking her completely by surprise. He had rolled to his back, stacked his hands under his head for additional support.
Her surprise was followed by a surge of undeniable pleasure. That Trevor would think of Tommy Guest at this time could only mean he cared.
“Tommy and Mary Jane moved to California.”
“Too bad. You mean he married someone else and moved off, nursing a broken heart.”
“He was nursing a broken heart, but not over me. Tom said Tommy never got over his mother’s death.”
That hit home—for both of them. When he winced, she moved to him, laying her head on his chest. He held it there by a palm. “Damn, Jace. Relationships bring nothing but pain. To anyone.”
She lay against him, feeling his heart throb against her face. She knew what he feared. He feared loving her. She feared loving him, too, but that didn’t mean she would stop. Could stop. She wasn’t going to give up on him, either. Regretting her earlier retreat, she shifted, raising her head and placing her elbows to either side of his face.
“Relationships haven’t been all bad for you,” she reminded him. “Look at yours and Hunter’s.”
“Look at it.” When she stroked his lips with her tongue, he took it in his mouth. The sensual sensation tired her yearning.
“Hunter and I haven’t seen each other in five years,” he said at length. “All because of somebody’s crazy scheme. Doesn’t that tell you how little control we have over anything?”
“I think we’ve controlled things pretty well. Hunter is fixing to be pardoned.”
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