24 Karat Ammunition
24 Karat Ammunition
Joanna Wayne
No Collingsworth would ever turn his back on a woman in danger.Langston Collingsworth was a man to be reckoned with, powerful and president of the family oil business. So when the Collingsworth empire was threatened…it was personal.A young girl needed Langston’s help. But her mother was none other than Trish Cantrell – Langston’s school sweetheart. Trish and her daughter were trapped in a blackmail plot and had been on the run since the day Trish gave birth to a Collingsworth heir.Now it’s up to Langston to protect her child – his child – and face down the trouble headed their way.
A solid-gold Texas homecoming studded with trouble.
Langston stared into Trish’s eyes, aware of the feel of his body pressing into hers, aware of his hands still wrapped around her waist, his fingers splayed against the bare flesh of her stomach beneath the loose T-shirt. Aware of her hair, in complete disarray with pine straw jutting from the dark curls.
She stood and brushed herself off. “What are you doing here, Langston?”
“Nice to see you again, too, Trish.”
“I’m not sure it’s safe for you to be here with me.”
Not that he was going anywhere. There was no way he could walk away from her as long as she needed him. But there wasn’t a chance he’d let her sneak back into his heart.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Joanna was born and raised in Shreveport, Louisiana, and received her undergraduate and graduate degrees from LSU-Shreveport. She moved to New Orleans in 1984 and found the mix of cultures, music, history, food and sultry Southern classics, along with her love of reading, a natural impetus for beginning her writing career.
Now, dozens of published books later, Joanna has made a name for herself as being on the cutting edge of romantic suspense in both series and single-title novels. She has been on the bestsellers list for romance, and she’s won many industry awards. She is a popular speaker for various writing organisations and at local community functions and has taught creative writing at the University of New Orleans Metropolitan College.
She currently resides in a small community forty miles north of Houston, Texas, with her husband. Though she still has many family and emotional ties to Louisiana, she loves living in the Lone Star State. You may write to Joanna at PO Box 265, Montgomery, Texas 77356, USA.
Dear Reader,
Having moved to the small town of Montgomery, Texas, two years ago, I have fallen in love with Texas and the cowboy lifestyle. When I decided to write a series set in my new home state, I wanted to capture the spirit of the ranching families with their strong ties to the land. I envisioned the Collingsworths as a family bound by the old traditions, men whose word can always be counted on. But the Collingsworths are also on the cutting edge and have made their mark not only in ranching but also in the oil business. They are a family to be reckoned with and the mysteries facing the heroes and heroines are right out of today’s headlines.
Be sure to watch for future stories from the FOUR BROTHERS OF COLTS RUN CROSS mini-series. You’re always welcome at Jack’s Bluff Ranch, where sexy and brave cowboys are the order of the day and where true heroines will settle for nothing less than true love.
Joanna Wayne
24 Karat Ammunition
JOANNA WAYNE
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Prologue
Trish Cantrell rinsed her stemless wineglass and placed it on the top shelf of her dishwasher. She might as well call it a night. It was only ten, but she hadn’t slept well since she’d been abducted from a restaurant parking lot at gunpoint last week. Fortunately, her teenage daughter was away, volunteering in a summer camp program for disabled children.
The carjacking had left Trish so shaken she hadn’t been able to work for two days. The threatening phone call that followed demanding she return some mystery video had upset her just as much. But that had been a week ago and there had been no more contact. She had to move past this. Carjackings happened in the city. It was the new way of life in America.
She stretched and started back to the bedroom, then went back to double-check the deadbolt on the front door. She seldom went in or out that way, but checking locks had become a habit long before last week’s incident. She’d wait and set the alarm when she got back to the bedroom so that it would sound instantly if a window or door to the outside was opened or the motion detector was set off. Another habit that she’d had for years, though it was on her mind more now.
The floor creaked as she walked to her bedroom. She loved the house, which she’d bought almost on her first day in Dallas. It was almost seventy-five years old, but the previous owner had remodeled it without losing any of its original charm. The hardwood floors and the double fireplace that opened to the den and dining room were a couple of its most terrific features. And all of it cost less than the much smaller flat she and her daughter had in London.
Trish stopped to check the door that led from the laundry room to the garage. Locked, as always. She never forgot to stop and do that when she came in. In fact her briefcase, purse and keys were still sitting on top of the small household toolbox where she’d set them in order to turn the heavy double bolts.
A shuffling sound came from the hall, setting her hair on end. She shrugged. It was nothing but the old house settling. Despite the mental reassurance, a chill slithered along her nerve endings. She waited, and there it was again.
And then she saw him.
Adrenaline rushed her bloodstream as the man stepped closer.
“I told you to give up the video, but you just wouldn’t listen.”
Chapter One
Lenora Collingsworth smoothed her ash-blond locks and noticed the new smattering of gray. At fifty-six, a few gray hairs were to be expected, but that didn’t mean she had to like them. She liked the chaos that was contributing to their arrival even less.
She looked down and let her gaze linger on the picture of her late husband, marveling as always that she missed him after all these years. Things would be different if Randolph were still alive. He’d take the reins of control of his family company from his ailing father. The transition would be flawless and uncomplicated, with no one questioning his authority.
But Randolph wasn’t here, and Lenora was seriously concerned that all hell was about to break loose in the Collingsworth clan. Not that either of her daughters would want any part of running the empire. Her youngest daughter, Jaime, avoided responsibility at any cost, sure it would lead to her immediate demise as a free spirit. And her older daughter, Becky, was far too busy holding a grudge against her estranged husband and trying to raise her twin seven-year-old sons to concern herself with business affairs.
Lenora’s four sons were a different story. Langston, Matt, Bart and Zach each held their staunchly individual views of how Collingsworth Oil and the ranch itself should be run. Now, with their grandfather both mentally and physically incapacitated, she was afraid those differences would tear apart her close-knit family.
She turned at a rap on her bedroom door. “The old fart’s here,” Jaime announced, opening the door and stepping just near enough that Lenora could see that her skimpy blue shorts fit low on the hips, revealing lots of skin between them and the white blouse tied just below her breasts. “He said he’s ready to start the meeting when you are.”
“Thanks. Tell him I’ll be right down.” Nigel Slattery was not only the family attorney but an old and very dependable family friend.
“Don’t hurry. Becky went upstairs to change clothes and she’s not down yet.”
“Speaking of changing clothes, you could exchange those shorts for a skirt or a pair of jeans. This is a business meeting, Jaime.”
“It’s in our dining room. Besides, a bunch of us are going down to the lake when we finish up here. Don’t count on me for dinner. We’ll be back late.”
As usual. Late to bed and late to rise was Jaime’s preferred lifestyle. She had changed majors so often that it had taken her six years to get a four-year degree in sociology, and then she had spent a year traveling in Europe to find herself before she started on a career. She was twenty-five now and the only job she’d pursued with any enthusiasm or longevity was spending the remainder of the trust from her late great-grandfather that she’d received on her twenty-first birthday.
Lenora took a last sip from her glass of iced tea and straightened the front of her denim skirt and white blouse before walking into the hall. Loud voices and boisterous laughter rang in her ears as she descended the winding staircase to the first floor. Her four sons would already be sitting around the massive oak table that overlooked the giant oaks that Jeremiah had planted the year he’d built the house for his wife.
The table, like the house itself, had been built to withstand the hot south-Texas summers and the hurricanes that blew in from the Gulf of Mexico. But it was the winds of change that threatened now, and Lenora wasn’t sure even the Collingsworth blood that ran through all her children’s veins could withstand that.
Langston was the first to his feet when she stepped through the door, and she noted that her older son had already taken over his grandfather’s seat at the head of the table. She wondered what his brothers thought about that.
He kissed her on the cheek. “We thought for a minute you’d run out on the meeting.”
“Now why would I do that?”
Matt pulled out her usual chair at the other end of the table. “Maybe because you hate business discussions.”
“I like discussions. I don’t like arguments.”
“We never argue,” Bart teased. “We just have heated dialogue until these guys come around to seeing things my way.”
“Like that last brainstorm you had about inviting students from A&M out to run the spring roundup and branding,” Matt said.
“Was it my fault they sent us coeds who got sick every time the iron touched the thick hide of a cow?”
“Hey, don’t knock that experiment,” Zach said. “I managed a few dates with that hot blonde before she decided to transfer back to UCLA and become an actress instead of a large-animal vet.”
“Yep, little brother,” Langston said. “You scared off another one.”
Zach grinned. “Too much man for her.”
Nigel Slattery ignored the brotherly camaraderie, opened his briefcase and laid a sheaf of papers on the table in front of him. “What’s the latest word on Jeremiah?”
“The doctors claim he’s progressing physically,” Lenora said, “but he still just lies there staring into space. He shows no signs of recognizing any of us.”
“Then he’s obviously in no condition to continue as CEO of Collingsworth Enterprises, so I guess we should get started.”
“Right,” Jaime said. “Let’s see what kind of little surprise Gramps has planned for us this time. He’s probably decided we should go out and make our own fortune and given us thirty days to vacate the ranch.”
“Not funny,” Matt said. “In fact, I don’t see why we have to bother with this at all. Langston and I are the oldest. By rights he should head the oil company as he’s doing now and I should manage the ranch. We don’t need a CEO over us.”
“Whoa!” Bart said. “I don’t know what age has to do with anything, and last time I checked we were comanaging the ranch.”
“Sure. I wasn’t trying to exclude you,” Matt said. “Couldn’t do it without you.”
“Nice that you know that.”
“Aren’t you guys forgetting there’s a fourth brother?” Zach said. “You know, the good-looking one.”
Langston picked up a pen and scribbled on a notepad as if he were making notes. “I’ve got you covered, little brother. How’s president of chasing women?”
“Works for me as long as it pays well. But if Mom is going to insist I drive to Houston and spend my days cooped up in an office, I expect to be more than a flunky.”
Lenora studied her children as Nigel shuffled papers. Her sons had all inherited their father’s good looks, all with his dark hair and eyes, classic nose and strong jaw line. Langston was a tough businessman, used to playing hardball with the movers and shakers in the oil business. He was far more sophisticated than the rest of her sons, and when he was dressed in one of his expensive suits as he was tonight, she found it hard to believe his roots were here on the ranch. That worried her. As did his recent engagement, which had seemed to come from out of the blue.
Her girls looked far more like her side of the family. Becky’s hair was blond, streaked by hours spent in the sun with her boys. Jaime was a strawberry-blonde. Both were petite with fair skin and sky-blue eyes. The similarities ended there. If she hadn’t given birth to both of them in this very house, she’d have sworn there had been a mixup at the hospital. Becky was athletic and a perfectionist, as unforgiving of shortcomings in others as she was in herself. Jaime was—Jaime.
Nigel cleared his throat. “I’ve made copies for all of you, but I thought I’d read it to you first.”
“We can all read,” Langston said.
“I know that. I just want to get it all said and done before you start complaining.”
“I told you,” Jaime said. “We’ll be homeless by morning. Guess we’ll have to move in that fancy penthouse with you, Langston.”
“Celeste would love that,” Zach said.
“How about we leave Celeste out of this?”
Lenora would love to second that, but she counted it good fortune enough that Langston’s fiancée hadn’t pushed her way into the night’s meeting.
“I’ll just skip to the meat of the matter,” Nigel said. He waited until the room was dead-quiet before he started to read the chosen parts of what appeared to be a multi-paged document.
“My six grandchildren will one day inherit the Collingsworth fortune. I hope at that time they will be ready to assume full responsibility for running Jack’s Bluff Ranch and Collingsworth Oil Company in a manner that would honor the land and the Collingsworth name.”
Jaime’s cell phone rang. She tugged it from the pocket of her shorts and was about to answer when Bart reached over and quietly slipped it from her fingers. She made a face at him but didn’t protest further when he turned it off and handed it back to her.
Nigel looked to Lenora and something in the look multiplied tenfold the fear she’d been harboring. He took a drink from the glass of water at his elbow and adjusted his glasses.
“My grandchildren are clearly not ready to assume full responsibility yet.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Matt said, glancing around the room for backup. “If he’s thinking of bringing in some stranger to take over Jack’s Bluff, it’s not going to fly.”
“Let him finish,” Langston said, but his tone had taken on a wary edge.
“For that reason,” Nigel said, pausing to look each of the Collingsworth siblings in the eye. “I feel it prudent to appoint my daughter-in-law, Lenora Collingsworth as acting CEO of Collingsworth Enterprises and assign her the final say in all major decisions affecting Collingsworth Oil and Jack’s Bluff Ranch.”
Langston pushed back from the table. “If this is some kind of joke, it isn’t funny.”
“Right,” Bart said. “Gramps surely doesn’t expect me to consult with Mom about improving beef production.”
“Mom has no experience in the business realm,” Matt said. “Running an oil company or a ranch is a far cry from chairing a committee for the symphony or raising funds for the homeless.”
Becky threw up her hands. “It’s ridiculous. What will people say if Mom goes back to work at her age? The boys need her here. We all need her here.”
Jaime was laughing too hard to say anything.
Lenora fumed. She didn’t want the added responsibility any more than they wanted her to have it, but it wasn’t as if she was as old or as incapable as they made her out to be. They’d been born choking on a Collingsworth silver spoon. She hadn’t. She’d gotten her first job at sixteen, though she had to admit working at a fast-food restaurant in Galveston hadn’t prepared her for a CEO position.
“This is ludicrous,” Langston said. “Gramps was clearly out of his head when he had that drawn up. I’ll make the decisions at Collingsworth Oil.”
“And I’ll continue to run the ranch as I see fit,” Matt said.
Bart pushed his chair back from the table and stood. “Don’t you mean as we see fit?”
Langston pushed up the sleeve of his pale gray dress shirt and looked at his watch. “I have to get back to Houston for a dinner engagement at eight, but I’ll check my calendar tomorrow and call a meeting of the four of us to decide how to set up the new scheme of operations.”
“The four of us?” Becky questioned. “There are six grandchildren.”
“Why call a meeting?” Matt asked. “We’re all here right now. I’m sure that Celeste can eat dinner on her own one night.”
Acid pooled in Lenora’s stomach, and she felt the old familiar ache that twenty-one years of loneliness hadn’t erased. She needed Randolph here beside her. But he wasn’t here, and she wouldn’t see her family destroyed.
She stood and waited until she had everyone’s attention. “I appreciate your concerns, but as of tonight, and until Jeremiah is well enough to take over again, I am the acting CEO of Collingsworth Enterprises. And I do not intend to hold the position in name only.”
The shock of all six of her children was palpable. Nigel smiled. And Lenora feared she’d just made the biggest mistake of her life.
LANGSTON SWALLOWED A CURSE. This was all his fault. He was the eldest. He should have seen this coming and taken care of the issue before it reached the family table, or at least have handled things smarter tonight. He should have protected his mother instead of letting her be forced into a position she couldn’t possibly handle.
He stared down the massive oak table at her as if seeing her for the first time. He didn’t know when her hair had started graying or when the wrinkles around her eyes had grown deeper. In his mind she was still the mother who’d sat with him in the hospital after his first fall from a horse. The mother who’d driven him twenty miles to Little League practices and cheered him through every game.
She was Mom. Not a CEO.
“There are some legal issues we need to deal with,” Nigel said. “And some paperwork to be signed before all this becomes official.”
“We’re not signing anything tonight,” Langston said.
“Your signature isn’t needed,” Nigel said as he started to pass out copies of the document from which he’d been reading. “Only Lenora’s signature is required.”
The front doorbell rang. Jaime jumped up to run for the door. “I’ll get it,” Langston said, needing an escape. A double shot of scotch wouldn’t hurt, either.
He opened the door and felt a blast of hot air and a rush of memories that almost knocked him off his feet. The teenage girl staring up at him had dark, curly hair and sweeping thick eyelashes over soft doelike eyes. The same hair. The same eyes as…
He loosed his necktie in a futile attempt to make breathing easier.
The girl shoved her hands into the front pockets of her denim cutoffs. “I’m looking for Langston Collingsworth.”
“I’m Langston. Who are you?”
“My name’s Gina Cantrell.”
“Do I know you?”
“I think you know my mom. Trish Cantrell.”
Trish’s daughter. No wonder she looked so much like her, though the last name was different. But then it would be if she’d married and had a daughter.
“Do you know my mom or not?”
“Yeah, I know her.” He looked around for an unfamiliar car. There was none, and he doubted she was old enough to have a license. “How did you get here?”
“On a Greyhound bus. The driver let me off at your gate.”
Which was a good half mile from the house, and the temperature and humidity were both in the nineties. “Come in and cool off,” he said. “I’ll get you a cold soft drink and you can tell me what you’re doing here.”
She stepped past him. “I need your help.”
“If you’re running away from home, I can tell you right now that you’ve come to the wrong man.”
“I’m not running away. It’s my mother. She’s…” Gina shuddered.
“What about your mother?”
“She’s been abducted.”
Trish. Abducted. His mind closed down for an agonizing second then darted recklessly to a thousand places he’d forbidden it to revisit.
“At least, she may have been kidnapped.” Gina pulled away. She’d quit shaking, but she was staring at him, her eyes riveting and pleading. “I have to find her. Will you help me?”
The question bucked around inside him though the answer was a given. He could never turn his back on a woman in danger.
Chapter Two
Unwilling to involve the whole family in this until he had a better idea what he was dealing with, Langston had taken Gina to the screened back porch that served as the most popular gathering spot of the big house. Gina was perched in a wooden rocker, sipping from the tall glass of lemonade Lenora had pushed into her hand the second she saw how hot and sweaty the girl was. Langston took a seat opposite her on the wicker sofa, moving a few of the pillows so he could lean back.
Gina stared at him, and he sensed that it was not only fear but suspicion that shadowed her dark eyes. “How do you and my mother know each other?”
“We both worked for the same company when we were in college.”
Her eyes narrowed. “And you haven’t seen her since then?”
“That’s right.”
“I don’t get it,” Gina said. “If you haven’t seen my mother in years, why would she tell me to come to you now?”
“I don’t know, but if you tell me everything, maybe we can figure this out together. Start at the beginning, and don’t leave anything out.”
“I don’t know much. That’s the problem—or at least one of the problems.”
“What makes you think she’s been abducted?”
Gina’s hands shook, tinkling the ice in her glass. “Mom called me this morning.”
“What time was that?”
“Eight minutes after ten, according to the record on my cell phone.
“Did it record the number she called from?”
“It was her cell phone, but when I tried to call her back, there was no answer.”
Langston leaned in closer. “What did Trish say when she called?”
Gina shook her head. “I don’t remember exactly, but she said I should not try to get in touch with her—or to call the police. She said that she’d call me again as soon as she could, but she didn’t know when that would be.”
Langston noticed the teenager’s eyes were red-rimmed.
“Are you sure she said not to call the police?”
“I’m sure. I wanted to call 9-1-1, but then I was afraid to. I didn’t know what to do except come here.”
“Did Trish mention anyone’s name?”
Gina shook her head again. “But she also talked to the camp supervisor and told her there was a family emergency, and that she needed someone to drive me to the nearest bus station so that I could go to a relative’s home. When I got back on the phone, she told me to buy a ticket to Colts Run Cross and tell the driver to let me out at Jack’s Bluff Ranch. She said he’d pass right by here on his route and that once I got here, I should stay until she could get in touch with me.”
“But she didn’t say she was in danger or that she’d been abducted?”
“No, but she hasn’t called back. She knows I’m upset…but I can’t reach her. That’s not something my mom would do.”
“Who’s this camp supervisor you mentioned?”
“Ms. Bulligia. I’m working as a junior counselor in a summer camp south of Dallas. That’s where we live—Dallas.”
So Trish had moved back to Texas. He wondered when that had happened, not that it mattered. Their lives had gone different ways long ago—which made this all the more bizarre. “Is there a husband, other siblings?”
“No. My father’s dead. There’s just Mom and me. She owns a boutique, not far from our house.”
“What about a boyfriend?”
“Me? Or Mom?”
“Your mom. Is there someone she might have had a fight with?”
“There’s no boyfriend, at least not lately. She’s off guys,’ cause they’re jerks. This one guy used to come into the boutique to buy gifts for his wife, but he started hitting on Mom and then showing up everywhere she went.”
“What happened with him?”
“She called the cops, and they scared him off.”
So she did normally go to the cops, instead of telling her daughter not to call them. “When was that?”
“A year ago.”
“And she hasn’t been bothered by him since?”
“I don’t think so.”
Which didn’t necessarily mean the man had lost his fascination for Trish. She was not an easy person to forget. Langston could definitely vouch for that. They sat without talking, with only the whir of the ceiling fan and the occasional whinny of a horse in a nearby pasture to break the silence.
“Think carefully, Gina. Did your mother say anything else when she called?”
“Only that…” Gina’s voice broke completely and she hugged her arms around her chest. “She said that she loved me. That’s the last thing she said before she hung up.”
“Who did you tell that you were coming here?”
“No one.”
“Not even a girlfriend?”
“No. I was afraid they’d call the police and make this worse for my mom.” Gina shuddered. “I have to find her, but I don’t know where to look. I don’t know how to start.” A tear spilled from her right eye and started to roll down her cheek. She brushed it away with the back of her hand.
Something tightened around Langston’s chest like a lasso. He walked over and put a hand on Gina’s shoulder. He was awkward at dealing with emotional females, always had been. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but I’ll find your mother, Gina. Count on it.”
Gina jumped up from the rocker. “I’ll go with you to look for her.”
“No, you stay here at the ranch. You’ll be safe and you’ll be available if Trish tries to contact you again. But you can help.”
“How?”
“Write down anything I should know. Home and boutique addresses. Names of employees at the boutique. Names and phone numbers of your mother’s friends—male and female. The name of the stalker from last year. Where she goes when she wants some quiet time away from home. Anyplace you think she might go to hide.”
He pulled a pen and small black notebook from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and handed them to her. “And I need a current picture of your mother if you have one. If not, write me out a good description.”
“I have a picture of the two of us and Selena that we took before I left for camp.”
“Who’s Selena?”
“She works at the boutique, but she’s also Mom’s best friend.”
“Be sure I have her name, address and phone number as well.”
“When will you leave?”
“As soon as I can change into a pair of jeans and throw a few things together.”
“I’ll have the information ready.” She looked up at him, eyes moist. “You must have been a very good friend for her to have sent me to you after all this time.”
“Yeah, good friends.” And that was all Gina needed to know.
He’d spent years trying not to think of Trish at all. He’d never fully succeeded. She’d always been there, skirting the back of his mind like a song that stayed in his head long after the music had stopped. Now the music was hitting crescendo again.
But this was only about finding Trish and making sure she was safe. Old songs—like old feelings—couldn’t be trusted.
THE PLANNED FAMILY MEETING had dissolved, but a new one waited for Langston when he reached the kitchen, this one between him and his three brothers, who were all having beers and killing time until they could start interrogating him.
“What gives?” Matt asked.
“Do you remember Trish Edwards?”
“Yeah, I remember her.”
“Gina is Trish’s daughter, though the name’s not Edwards now. It’s Cantrell.”
“What’s her daughter doing here?”
“She thinks her mother’s in some kind of trouble, that she may have been abducted.” Langston filled his brothers in on the little he knew.
Zach straddled a straight-back chair. “So who is this mysterious Trish?”
Matt planted a hand on Zach’s shoulder. “A woman who dumped your brother years ago.”
“You’ve been dumped?” Zach asked. “Why have I missed out on this?”
“I was still in college,” Langston said. “You were a mere snotty-nosed kid at the time.”
“Exactly,” Matt said, his tone edgy. “Trish was a long time ago. You don’t owe her anything, and even if you did, this is police business. If there’s been an abduction, they’ll be able to handle it better than you.”
“Like I said, Trish doesn’t want police involvement, but I’ll call them if it seems warranted.”
“If you don’t want go to the police,” Bart said, “I know a great private detective in Houston. He does the legwork for Phil Caruthers and some of the other leading criminal defense lawyers in the city. There’s no one he can’t find.”
“Write down his name and phone number for me,” Langston said. “I may need him before this is over.”
“So what are you going to do?” Zach asked.
“Drive to Dallas and see if I can figure out what’s going on.”
“Why not fly up in the company Cessna?” Zach asked. “It would be a lot quicker.”
“I’ll need the car when I get there, and there won’t be that much traffic this time of the night. I can make the drive in under four hours.”
“I still say call the cops,” Matt said. “You don’t even know the woman anymore. She could be involved with drugs or wanted for something and on the run.”
“She owns a boutique. That’s not your typical criminal profile.”
“If I can’t talk sense into you, I’ll go with you,” Matt said. “Bart can handle the ranch a few days without me.”
“And if I can’t, I have CEO Mother to tell me what to do.”
Matt groaned. “That is not a joking matter.”
“I’d rather go this alone at first,” Langston said. “I can keep a lower profile that way, but I’ll call if it looks like I need assistance.”
Bart nodded. “What about Gina?”
“I’d appreciate it if you’d take responsibility for her. I don’t want her to leave the ranch unless you’re with her. And all of you will need to be on guard that no one comes looking for her and causes any trouble at the ranch.”
“That’s a given,” Matt said.
“Are you going to explain all of that to Mom?” Bart asked.
“That’s my next order of business. Then I’ll pack a few things and hit the road.”
“If you don’t have what you need, help yourself to my closet,” Bart said. “The jeans and shirts should fit. I don’t know about the shoes. I’ve got man feet, you know.”
“If the man’s a giant,” Zach mocked.
“I keep some old jeans and boots and such at the big house so that I don’t have to pack a duffel every time I drive out,” Langston said. “They’ll do.”
“Anything I can do to help, just say the word,” Zach said. “I’m your man.”
“How would you like to escort Celeste to a dinner party at Mayor Griffin’s tonight?”
Zach groaned. “Let me rephrase that offer. Anything I can do for you short of riding a maniacal bull or spending an evening with your charming fiancée, just let me know.”
“And she speaks so highly of you.”
“Yeah, right.”
None of his brothers were particularly fond of Celeste, but that would change when they got to know her better. He was sure of it. Langston headed off to find his mother and was already at the top of the stairs when Matt caught up with him.
“You’ll need a handgun,” Matt said. “You can take my Glock.”
“Thanks.”
Matt put a hand on Langston’s arm. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”
“Sure I do. When has a Collingsworth ever turned their back on a woman in distress?”
“Never, but I’m not sure that’s what this is about. If it’s about some kind of bond you think you have with Trish, just remember that the two of you were a hell of a long time ago. You’ve changed a lot in those years. She will have to. You can’t just go back and pick up where you left off, not even if…”
“I have no plans to pick up anything. I’m engaged. I just need to check this out. That’s all.”
“Sure.” Matt delivered a brotherly punch to the arm. “Just be careful, bro.”
“I always am.”
LENORA WAS IN SEMI-SHOCK by the developments of the meeting with Nigel and then with the idea of Langston rushing off to north Texas to rescue an old girlfriend. But she could see how Gina’s story would have gotten to him. The girl was scared to death.
“This will be your room,” Lenora said, leading Gina into the guest room on the far eastern end of the upstairs hall.
Gina looked around for a few seconds before dropping her one piece of luggage to the bed. “Did you know my mom well?”
“Not well, but I’ve met her. She wasn’t a lot older than you at the time.”
“Did she come here to Jack’s Bluff Ranch?”
“Several times. She loved the horses, could never wait to go riding.”
“She still likes to ride, but she doesn’t get to do it much. We live in the city.”
Gina walked to the window and stared out. The view looked directly over the garden that they’d built around the rosebush Randolph had given Lenora for their first anniversary. Beyond that was a stretch of pines that gave away quickly to open pasture.
It was almost six, but the sun was still high enough in the sky for the roses to show off their beautiful collage of colors. Dark came late in July.
“Mom never mentioned any of you,” Gina said. “I don’t know why she sent me here.”
“I couldn’t say,” Lenora said, “but delightful young ladies are always welcome at Jack’s Bluff.”
“Thanks.”
“The bathroom is down the hall, the second door to your left. Normally you’d have to share it with the twins, my seven-year-old grandsons who have the room across the hall from you, but David and Derrick are with their father for two more weeks.”
“I won’t be here two weeks. I’ll be leaving as soon as my mom’s okay.” She walked back to the bed and unzipped her bag. “How many people live in this house?”
“Currently six, seven counting you.”
“Does Langston live here?”
“No, he lives in Houston. And Matt and Bart have their own houses here on the ranch. Zach, Jaime and Becky—the twins’ mother—all live here in the big house.”
“You have a large family.”
“Yes, I do. You met all of them except the twins. How about you, Gina? Do you have brothers and sisters?”
“No. It’s just me and my mom.” Gina started to unpack, but stopped and collapsed on the bed.
“There’s plenty of time to shower and take a nap before dinner,” Lenora said. “We won’t eat until seven-thirty. Juanita’s making a chicken enchilada casserole, at least that’s my name for it. It’s spicy, but superb.”
“Who’s Juanita?”
“Our cook. Bart hired her last year, because he and the boys wanted me to take it a little easier. Actually, I miss my kitchen and I’m a little jealous sometimes that she gets the compliments instead of me.”
“Then why don’t you fire her?”
“I can’t. She makes tamales to die for. Besides, it gives me more time for my charity work and spending time with my grandsons.” And now time to exert some influence into the operations of Collingsworth Enterprises—or at least into the development of her sons and even her daughters.
Gina kicked out of her shoes. “I’d like a shower, but I can’t really dress for dinner. All I have with me are shorts and T-shirts.”
“They’ll do fine. I tried the policy of dressing for dinner for awhile. I gave it up after I got tired of sitting at the table by myself. Now we’re back to South Texas rules. Come as you are, but the horse and spurs stay outside.”
Gina finally smiled.
Lenora did, too, though a sudden horrifying thought crept into her mind. Suppose Trish wasn’t all right. Suppose Langston was too late and something had gone terribly wrong.
Maybe she should call Billy Mack. He had a friend that had been a Texas Ranger before he retired. Langston might not appreciate her calling their neighbor in on this, but Billy was older and had a level head on him. And he’d been a friend of the Collingsworth family all his life.
If Langston didn’t call back with good news by morning, she might just give Billy a call. Lenora forced a smile and left the room quickly before Gina saw her fear. The girl had more than enough of her own.
LANGSTON HIT THE ACCELERATOR of his sleek black Porsche as he pulled out of the gate of Jack’s Bluff and headed north. No matter what Matt said, this wasn’t about his old relationship with Trish. Those feelings were dead, had been for years. He might have thought he’d loved Trish once, but what had he known of love at nineteen?
Yet the old memories began to haunt his mind. Slow dancing with Trish in Cutter’s Bar. Watching her float along the surface of the water when they’d gone skinny-dipping in the moonlight. Holding Trish in his arms. Tasting her lips.
His muscles grew taut as a new wave of adrenaline rushed through his veins. Trish was in danger and she needed him. That’s all he’d deal with now.
Chapter Three
It was ten-thirty by the time Langston pulled up in front of Trish’s home in a fashionable section of west Dallas. There were lights in most of the houses, but Trish’s was dark except for the landscaping lamps dotted about the flowerbeds and shrubbery. The house was two-story with lots of angles and gables on a corner lot. Langston parked in the driveway and killed the engine. He’d made a few phone calls on his way north. One had been to Aidan Jefferies, a detective friend in Houston who’d learned that Trish had been involved in a carjacking/kidnapping incident eight days ago.
Luckily she’d escaped unhurt after being rescued by a local detective, a man who’d become suspicious when he spotted the car speeding down an Interstate exit ramp and recognized the abductor as a suspect he’d questioned months earlier. The detective had followed until Trish had run the car off the road and wrecked the car. A shootout had followed, and the carjacker had been shot and killed by the cop. It had made the local newspaper but not the front page. An explosion at a local plant had been the hot topic of the day.
An open-and-shut case according to police records, but Langston had a strong suspicion that it was somehow tied to the strange phone call she’d made to Gina.
He retrieved his emergency flashlight from his glove compartment and stuck it in the front pocket of his jeans. He also took the Glock, just to be on the safe side. He rang the bell and waited. As expected, there was no answer and no signs of life.
Breaking in houses wasn’t his specialty, though this wouldn’t officially be breaking and entering since Gina had given him her key. He put his face to the door and shot a beam of light into the foyer.
He couldn’t see much of the living area beyond the entranceway, but he did see an overturned table and a shattered vase, its bouquet of flowers scattered about the floor. His worry about alarms vanished.
He unlocked the door hurriedly and stepped inside. “Trish.” He called her name but didn’t wait for an answer before racing to the living room and then reeling at the destruction. Cushions and pillows were ripped and cotton and feathers were scattered everywhere.
Adrenaline rush and apprehension had his heart pounding as he made his way through the house. “Trish, it’s Langston. Are you here? If you’re hiding, you can come out.” There was no response.
The rest of the house matched the kitchen. Drawers were open, their contents scattered. Even the closets had been ransacked. Not your typical random vandalism. Whoever had come in was more likely looking for something in particular. He tried the kitchen door that led to the garage. It was unlocked and the garage was empty.
He stepped over broken glass and walked to the door that led from the kitchen to the backyard, flicking on the outside light and stepping outside. There was a small pool and some yard chairs. The area was enclosed by thick shrubbery and a high security fence. He spun and aimed the gun at the sound of movement in the water, but it was only the pool cleaner rearing its vacuuming head to spit a stream of water in his direction.
Langston scanned the pool. A plastic float was backed into the far right corner and a couple of iridescent diving rings rested on the bottom. The courtyard area was untouched by the demolition. He went back inside and searched again, not breathing easy until he was certain that Trish was not in the house, injured—or worse.
Leaving things just as he’d found them, Langston went back to his car, input the address that Gina had supplied into his GPS system and drove the few blocks to Trish’s shop, Cottage Boutique. He stopped a couple of doors down, in a strip mall to the right of Trish’s shop. The boutique looked more like an old house, a survivor in the world of sleek shopping centers. To the left was another cottage, this one a day spa spouting a sign that proclaimed it a haven from stress.
Trish’s boutique was closed, as were all the shops except for a chain coffee café at the far end of the strip mall. He studied the displays of fashionably dressed mannequins in two lighted bay windows of the boutique as he walked to the front door. Thick drapes hung behind the displays, keeping the shop’s interior from view.
The door was locked and the blinds were closed tight so that there was no way to see inside. A small sign by the doorway said Please Ring For Entry. He did. The shop stayed dark and silent.
Frustrated, he pulled the list of names and numbers Gina had given him from his pocket and held it beneath the beam of his flashlight. The photograph of Selena, Gina and Trish stared back at him. His chest tightened and his lungs closed around his quickened breath. His instincts screamed that Trish was in trouble and that if he didn’t find her fast, it would be too late.
He scanned the notes for the information on where Trish went when she needed to get away. Long walks in the park. Movies. A fishing camp on Lake Livingston that belonged to Selena’s boyfriend. If she was running from someone, she might have gone there.
Langston was already back in his sports car when the lights in the front windows of the boutique flicked off. Probably on a timer he decided, but he waited for a few minutes to make certain. He’d started the engine and was backing from his parking spot when he saw the garage door of Trish’s shop begin to lift.
Damn. There had been someone inside.
He revved his engine and swerved from the strip center, pulling into the driveway of the cottage just as a white compact car started to back out. The driver squealed to a stop when she saw him. He blocked her in, then jumped from behind the wheel and raced to her door.
He shone a beam of light into her car. The dark-haired young woman—the same one who was in the picture Gina had given him—stared at him, her eyes wide with fear.
He laid the pistol on top of the car, and leaned against the door. “I’m not going to hurt you, Selena,” he said, talking loudly enough for her to hear through the closed window. “I’m looking for Trish Cantrell.”
She shook her head.
“I didn’t have anything to do with the carjacking. I’m just a friend. Gina came to me for help. My name’s Langston Collingsworth.” Not that there was any reason she’d have ever heard of him. Still, he took his wallet from his pocket and pressed his ID against the window, shining his light so that she could see it.
Surprisingly, she responded with a nod and some of the fear seemed to dissolve from her face as if she recognized his name.
“Can you lower the window so we can talk?”
She nodded and did as he’d asked. “Where’s Gina? Is she okay?”
“At my family’s ranch down in Colts Run Cross. She’s fine but worried about her mother.”
No response.
“Where’s Trish?” he demanded.
“I don’t know.”
He leaned closer. “I know Trish is in trouble. I know about the carjacking and I’ve seen the mess at her house.”
“How could you know about the carjacking?” she asked suspiciously. “Gina doesn’t even know about that.”
“It’s not exactly a secret. It was in the newspaper and I talked to a friend who’s a detective.”
“You talked to the police?”
“I talked to one cop. He’s not with the DPD. Trish is obviously in danger, and Gina came to me. I just want to help.”
“I don’t know where she is. Now, please, move your car. I have to go home.”
He grabbed her arm. “Is she at your boyfriend’s fishing cabin?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re lying. She’s at the camp, isn’t she?”
“If I tell you, you must promise not to go to the police, not even to your detective friend.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. But Trish made me promise on the Bible, and you have to promise, too.”
He didn’t make promises easily, and he never broke them unless he found out he’d been lied to. This time he had no choice. There was no time to waste. “I don’t have a Bible on me, but I’ll give you my word as a Collingsworth and that’s just as sacred a promise.”
“It better be. She said she might go to the camp. That’s all I know. I haven’t heard from her since last night after someone broke into her house.”
Too bad he hadn’t known that before he’d driven all the way to Dallas. “I need better directions than Gina gave me. There’s no time to waste looking for the place.”
“Okay, but you have to help her. If you don’t, he’s going to kill her.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.” Her fear was palpable, and it crawled inside him, adding a sense of urgency that set his nerves even more on edge as she hurriedly scribbled the directions on the back of what looked like a gasoline receipt.
She pressed the note into his hand. “Make sure you’re not followed.”
“Count on it.”
“All I know about you, Langston Collingsworth, is that when Trish talks about you, it’s as if you are some kind of friggin’ prince. So be one now. Don’t let her down.”
He swallowed hard as she pressed the note into his hand. He didn’t bother with a goodbye, but just rushed back to his car, started the engine and jerked it into Reverse. He wasn’t a prince, but he’d stack a cowboy against royalty any day.
As long as he wasn’t already too late.
TRISH STOOD AT THE BACK DOOR of the rustic cabin and stared at the silvery bands of moonlight dancing across the lake. A light breeze stirred the leaves of a sweetgum tree, and an owl called down from one of its branches. Another time she would have found the isolation of the camp peaceful and inspiring. Tonight it only intensified the desperate fears that had driven her here.
If any of this made sense, she’d have a clearer idea what to do. She couldn’t just stay here, hiding out as if she were the criminal. But she couldn’t go back to Dallas, either, not until she knew what she was up against. And she definitely couldn’t go to the cops.
Neither could Gina. So now she was at Colts Run Cross, in the last place Trish would have ever expected to send her. But desperation made a person take desperate risks.
Trish stepped outside. It was warm, but not the same kind of unforgiving heat that attacked Dallas so mercilessly in July and August. Credit the wind blowing across the lake for that.
The moon slid behind a cloud, turning the night pitch-dark. The high-pitched chorus of what must have been thousands of tree frogs filled the night, accompanied by the occasional screech of an owl and the rustle of grass as one of the night creatures hunted nearby. Deer, squirrel, raccoon, skunks, armadillos—and snakes. She had lots of company. And she was totally alone.
A mosquito buzzed her face and landed on her cheek. She slapped it away, started to go back inside—then stopped dead-still as a new noise wafted on the breeze. It was a car engine. Fear slammed her senses. The man had found her. He’d make his demands again, and when she couldn’t deliver…
The car came closer. She’d parked her rental at the edge of the wooded area, hidden from view so no one would know she was here. Big mistake since there was no way she could get to it now in time to escape.
Still she had to try.
She rushed in the house to get the keys, then took off out the back door again just as the car stopped in front of the house.
She’d have to go through the woods if there were any chance of not walking right into his hands. The brush hit her in the face and her footsteps sounded like a herd of deer as she raced through the heavy undergrowth. He had to hear her, and he’d be right behind her. The outline of her car was in view when a prickly branch snagged her jeans and sent her crashing to the damp carpet of pine straw. The keys flew from her hands.
She felt for them in the dark, imagining that any second her fingers would rake the body of a slithering snake instead. Only now she could hear footsteps. The man was right behind her. Leaving the keys, she stood and started running again, this time deeper into the woods.
“Trish.”
The moon reappeared and filtered through the trees enough that Trish could finally see where she was going. She tried to run faster, but stumbled. Her fingers scratched and slid along the rough bark of a tree trunk. And then she felt the man’s body as he tackled her and they both went crashing to the ground.
“What the hell are you doing?”
She tried to roll over, but his body was pressing into hers and holding her down. “I don’t have…” Finally she’d wiggled around enough to see the man’s face, and her angry protests turned to cotton in her mouth. Her heart skipped erratically and then slammed against her chest.
“How did you find me?”
LANGSTON STARED INTO TRISH’S eyes, aware of the feel of his body pressing into hers, aware of his hands still wrapped around her waist, his fingers splayed against the bare flesh of her stomach beneath the loose T-shirt. Aware of her hair, in complete disarray with pine straw jutting from the dark curls.
A crazy jolt of arousal shot through him. He pushed away instantly.
She stood and brushed herself off. “What are doing here, Langston?”
“Nice to see you again, too, Trish. You really should work on your greeting skills, though.”
“My greeting skills are fine when I’m expecting company. I wasn’t. And you didn’t answer my question. What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you. Your daughter is frantic.”
“Is she with you?”
“No, she’s at the ranch. What the devil is going on?”
“I’m not sure, but I think the cop who saved me from a carjacker last week is trying to kill me.”
“Why would he?”
“I know it doesn’t make sense, but he wants a video that he thinks I have.”
“A video?”
“See, I told you it doesn’t make sense.”
To say the least. “Let’s go inside and you can give me the full story.”
“I’m not sure it’s safe to be here with me. He could show up any minute.”
“Then you’d better talk fast.”
Not that he was going anywhere. There was no way he could walk away from her as long as she needed him.
But there wasn’t a chance he’d let her sneak back into his heart.
Chapter Four
Trish had been totally unnerved before Langston arrived on the scene. Now it was worse. Langston wasn’t the same youthful, high-flying college guy he’d been that hot, sultry summer in Houston. She wasn’t the same naively optimistic woman she’d been. Still, the past seemed to dominate the situation and sensual tension charged the air.
Langston leaned against the kitchen counter, his piercing, dark eyes boring into hers. “Tell me about the carjacking.”
Trish pulled a sprig of pine straw from her hair, dropped to one of the worn kitchen chairs and propped her elbows on the table. “I’d gone to lunch with one of the sales reps from my favorite jewelry line, but had taken my own car so I could stop by the drugstore on the way back to the boutique. I was still buckling up when some guy opened the passenger side door and jumped in.”
“Buck Rivers.”
“Right. How did you know that?”
“A friend told me, but that’s about all I know. The guy must have been watching you when you exited the restaurant.”
“I guess, but I didn’t see him. If I had, I wouldn’t have thought anything about it. The parking lot was crowded and it was the middle of the day. And he was just a normal-looking guy—except for the pistol he pointed at my head.”
“Go on.”
“He was yelling at me to drive faster and ordering me when and where to turn. At first I thought he was just desperate to get somewhere and thought he might actually let me go after that. Once he forced me to turn on a deserted back road, I got a lot more worried.”
“Did he act as if he knew you?”
“He just referred to me as a rich bitch. When he told me to stop, I panicked and hit the gas instead. He tried to kick my foot off the accelerator. That’s when we left the blacktop. We were headed right for a bridge. I hit the ravine just before I hit the railing.”
Langston joined her at the table. “You’re lucky to be alive.”
She looked up and let her eyes meet his. His gaze was still piercing, but shadowed now. She dropped her eyes and focused on his hands. No longer the hands of a rancher, she noticed. They were smooth. And there was no wedding ring on his left hand. It didn’t matter. She couldn’t let it.
“I wasn’t hurt in the wreck other than sore muscles and a few bruises. The carjacker didn’t have on his seat belt and was knocked out when his head hit the side window. A car pulled up and stopped on the side of the road. I thought he’d just happened by and saw the wreck, but it was an off-duty detective.”
“Gary Packard.”
She nodded. “He said he’d seen us speeding recklessly down the exit ramp when we left the highway. He thought I was drunk, then got close enough that he recognized my abductor as someone he’d questioned before.”
“So he followed you?”
“Right, but he didn’t see the pistol pressing into my rib cage and didn’t realize I’d been abducted. He just wanted to see what we were up to.”
“How did he come to kill Rivers instead of arresting him?”
“Buck Rivers came to while I was explaining the situation to the detective. He took off running and Detective Packard gave chase. I ran to the car, retrieved my cell phone from my handbag and made a 9-1-1 call. When I heard gunfire, I panicked again and hid in the woods until a state trooper responding to my call showed up.”
“So you didn’t see the shootout?”
“No. The detective came wandering out of the woods after the trooper arrived. He said he’d shot the carjacker in self-defense.”
“How did you go from saved by a cop to thinking he is trying to take you out?”
“I’d like to know that myself. We hung around for a long time while the detective and the trooper searched the area. I guess they were looking for clues. Then when I refused to go to the hospital, the detective drove me back into town, asking questions the whole way. I had the feeling even then that he didn’t really believe I was a random victim.”
“Meaning?”
“I think he still thought I might have willingly been with Rivers. But he let it go and dropped me off at the car rental agency to get a replacement vehicle. He said mine would be towed, impounded and searched for clues even though the detective had spent a lot of time searching it while we were at the scene.”
“What kind of clues? They already knew who abducted you and he was dead.”
“I don’t know. I didn’t argue with him. I was still in shock at that point and just glad it was over. At least I thought it was over. Turned out I was badly mistaken. I got a phone call the next day demanding I return the video that Buck Rivers had left with me. When I told the caller I didn’t have it, he called me a few obscene names and said if I was lying, I was dead.”
“Did the caller give his name?”
“No. But when he first called I would have sworn I was talking to Detective Packard, but that he had a cold or something.”
“What did you do?”
“I called Packard and told him about it. Then he questioned me about having a video. I’m not sure he believed that I didn’t. But then he blew the whole thing off and said if there was no video then it was probably a crank call and that I should ignore it unless I heard from the man again. I didn’t hear from him so I thought I was home-free.”
“And then someone broke into your house last night.”
“Selena told you?”
“No, I went to your place first. It’s trashed.”
“My house is trashed?”
“Didn’t you know?”
“No. I left rather quickly after I rammed a screwdriver into the intruder’s face.”
“Keep talking.”
She explained the situation as best she could. It had all happened so fast that she was short of facts.
“Why didn’t you call the cops once you got away instead of coming here to hide out?”
She hesitated. Selena had thought she was paranoid. Langston would likely think she was plain crazy, but… “I think Gary Packard was the man who broke in my house.”
“You couldn’t tell?”
“He was wearing a ski mask. Look, I know this sounds crazy, but when I saw the intruder, I thought it was the detective. He had the same build, the same voice, but more gruff—like he was trying to disguise it, the same as the man had sounded on the phone.”
“You can’t just accuse a cop of trying to kill you, Trish.”
“I know that.” Her frustration level skyrocketed. “But I can’t ignore all my instincts, either.”
Langston nodded and pushed back from the table. “It’s too late to try to figure this out tonight, but I’ll make a few calls and get some men on it first thing in the morning.”
“There’s no reason for you to get involved in this, Langston.”
“You asked for my help.”
“I did no such thing.”
“You sent Gina to me.”
“I was hoping you’d keep her safe while I got this figured out. I didn’t mean for you to come looking for me.”
He stood as if the conversation were finished. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
“Langston, you really don’t have to get involved. I’m handling this.”
“You’re hiding in the woods. That was a wise escape plan. It’s not a solution.”
He’d been cocky at nineteen. He was downright bossy now. But he was right, She didn’t have a plan and had no clue how to come up with one. She’d faced a lot in her life, but at least before, the cops had been the good guys.
He looked about the cabin. “Is there anything around here to eat?”
“Apples and potato chips that I picked up when I stopped to get gas. Fortunately, I got out of the house with my purse. That was it, except for the clothes I had on and my keys.”
“Which makes me doubly glad I raided Mom’s refrigerator before I left.” Langston took his cell phone from the leather holder at his waist and tossed it to her. “Call your daughter and tell her you’re safe while I get the groceries out of the car. She’s worried sick about you.”
“I’ve already tried to use my cell phone. There’s no service out here.”
“Mine’s satellite. It will work. The number’s programmed in under Mom.”
Mom. Jack’s Bluff. Names Trish remembered from years ago. The Collingsworths were a strong Texas family with wealth and political influence. That was Langston’s reality.
And if she let him into her life, if he found out the truth about her and her past, that reality might become her destruction. So no matter how tempting it might be to let him come to her rescue, it was a risk she couldn’t afford.
IT WAS TEN AFTER TWO in the morning, and Langston was yet to close his eyes or even to lie down. He really wanted to believe Trish, but her story was full of serious holes. The biggest was how this mystery video was supposed to have fallen into her hands. Did the cop, or whoever had trashed her house, think that the carjacker had hidden it in her car before he dashed into the woods never to return again? Not likely. And even if he had, the car wasn’t in her possession. It had been towed away from the scene and impounded by the police.
He had to consider the possibility that Trish knew more than she was saying and that she might be lying about her relation—or lack of one—with Buck Rivers. His cell phone rang and he jumped to get it before it woke Trish. He whispered a hello.
“Langston, are you okay?”
Celeste. Damn. He was supposed to have called her hours ago. He stepped out on the front porch so that he could talk at normal volume. “I’m fine.”
“I was worried sick about you. Why didn’t you call me back?”
“I was tied up, and then it was too late. I didn’t want to wake you.”
“What’s going on with that Trish person?”
That Trish person. She said it as if it was some kind of annoyance, like bad breath or a flat tire. He wished he’d never even mentioned Trish’s name to her, but he’d owed her an explanation for running out on her tonight. He hadn’t mentioned that Trish was an old girlfriend. He wasn’t sure why except that it had been so long ago.
“If there’s even a chance she’s been abducted, you should call the police and let them handle it,” Celeste urged.
“She wasn’t abducted.”
“How do you know that?”
“I’ve located her.”
“Then why did she send her daughter to you?”
“It’s a long story, Celeste, and I’m dead-tired. I’ll call you in the morning and give you a full update.”
“Okay, but I still don’t see why you went rushing off to Dallas just because some kid yelled wolf. It’s probably just a scam to get money out of you.”
“We’ll talk in the morning.”
“Not too early. I may sleep in. The dinner party didn’t break up until nearly midnight. Melvin was nice enough to fill in for you at the last minute, and he and I went out for drinks after that. Just call when you get to the office.”
Thank goodness for Melvin. Not only was he Langston’s most valued VP at the company, but he was also always willing to pinch-hit when Langston couldn’t make one of Celeste’s social events. That was more than his brothers would do.
“I won’t call too early,” he promised. They said their goodnights and Langston broke the connection. Tired as he was, he didn’t go back inside. Instead he stood on the edge of the narrow porch and stared into the shadows that played around the cabin.
He wasn’t sure of the real answer to Celeste’s question about why he’d come running to Dallas but he was glad he had. He’d always needed closure with Trish. Hopefully this would provide it, and he could finally get past the memories of that summer and the two of them reveling in their exploding hormones and thinking it was the real thing.
Sure, he’d had a brief relapse tonight, but that was just the memories and seeing her again after so long a time. He’d see Trish through this, and then he’d go on with his life without a backward glance.
He went back into the house and into the hall to get a pillow from the closet. He passed the bedroom where she was sleeping and hesitated, his senses suddenly intoxicated by her presence. He listened to her breathing and imagined her head resting on the pillow, her hair disheveled with the curls dancing about her cheeks.
He took a deep breath and stepped away. Tomorrow he’d be fine.
Tonight, the memories held sway.
SELENA ARRIVED AT THE BOUTIQUE at six minutes before nine the next morning, though it didn’t open until ten and she’d stayed late to do paperwork last night. Her boyfriend’s truck was in the shop and she had to drive him to work for eight-thirty. Once she was out, she figured she may as well go to work herself.
Selena went back to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. Once the brew was dripping, she made a quick tour of the shop, checking each room to make sure it was ready for business. She saved the blue room for last. It was her favorite. The furnishings were the same type of beautiful antiques as in the rest of the cottage, but it was in the style of a privileged lady’s boudoir.
Selena never tired of laying the silky lingerie across the huge four-poster bed or displaying it in the magnificent, mahogany wardrobe. Not to mention that the white lace and satin bridal set she’d hung next to the eighteenth century washstand practically made her mouth water.
When she and Enrico married, she planned to wear one like that on her honeymoon. Then no matter how many times they’d made love before, she’d feel like a princess bride. She knew he loved her, but he wanted to save money for a down payment on a house before they set the date. But it would be soon. His bank account was growing fast.
Today, even thinking about that didn’t lift her troubled spirits. She started back to the business office, then paused when she thought she heard someone in the front room of the shop.
Just her jagged nerves, she decided, since even during business hours the doors to the outside stayed locked. Customers rang the doorbell as if entering the house of a friend. Trish claimed that was part of the boutique’s charm and made it feel far more exclusive.
Selena dropped to the computer and pulled up the list of customers to be notified that the new shipment of Jimmy Choo shoes was going on display August fourth. But there was that noise again, only closer. She spun around in the chair as the man stepped into the doorway behind her, one hand resting on the doorframe, the other behind his back.
“Nice little setup you’ve got here.”
“Who are you? How did you get in?”
“I came by to do some shopping. Where’s Trish?”
Oh, no! Fear settled like red-hot coals in her chest. She reached for the button beneath her desk that sent a silent alarm to the police, turning her body so that he wouldn’t see her fingers. “Trish isn’t here.”
“I can see that. Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“I kind of think you might.” He pulled the hand from behind his back and pointed the barrel of a stubby black pistol at her head. “Where’s Trish?”
Her stomach rolled and Selena tried to swallow through the hard, dry crust that her throat had become. “I told you I don’t know where she is.” Her words were so shaky she wasn’t even sure they were intelligible.
He inched closer, his hand steady and his finger sliding to the trigger. “I’m counting to three. If you don’t happen to remember by then where I can find your boss lady, you won’t be remembering anything ever again. And if you lie to me, I’ll track you down and yank your heart out through your throat.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“One.”
She didn’t want to die. She wanted to wear the beautiful bridal lingerie. Wanted to marry Enrico. Wanted to have his children. “This is about that video isn’t it? Trish doesn’t have your stupid video.”
“Two.”
She heard a siren. The cops were on the way.
“Three.”
LANGSTON’S CELL PHONE RANG at nine-thirty the next morning. The ID read Aidan Jefferies. Good. He knew he could count on his detective buddy to work quickly. “Any luck?”
“Some. Gary Packard’s got a clean record except for one count of domestic violence against his wife. That was ten years ago. They’ve divorced since.”
“What about Buck Rivers?”
“He’s been in Dallas for four years and has had several arrests—no convictions. He always seems to be around trouble, but there’s never any proof that he’s in it. He’s been working as a bouncer at one of the local gentleman’s clubs for the past six months. One of the dancers reported he’d beaten her up a month ago, but later recanted the charges. There’s probably a lot more on him, but that was all I could get with phone calls to the DPD. I’ll follow up, but I could fax that to you if you’d like hard copy.”
“We barely have indoor plumbing here.” He stepped outside the door so that Trish wouldn’t overhear his next question. “Did you get any information on Trish Cantrell?”
“She bought the Cottage Boutique five years ago after moving to the States from London. No police record. Not even an unpaid parking ticket. So are you heading back to Houston today?”
“That’s the plan. I’ll give you a call later.” He thanked Aidan again, broke the connection and went back inside.
Trish had showered and was dressed in the same clothes she’d had on last night. The shorts showed off her tan and terrific thighs and the pale pink T-shirt fit just snug enough to cup beneath her breasts. Her hair was still damp but curling about her cheeks.
He forced his gaze away. The close quarters were definitely getting to him. “I could use some breakfast,” he said.
“I still have an apple.”
“I’m thinking more like bacon and eggs.”
“I could go for that. I’m starved, and I actually got some sound sleep last night for the first time since the carjacking.”
“Good.”
“And I’ve made some decisions.” She propped her bottom on the arm of the faded sofa. “I’ll hire a private investigator to look into the mystery tape and a bodyguard to protect me until I know exactly who’s behind all of this.”
And just like that he’d be out of her life again. He should feel relieved, but his knee-jerk reaction felt more like a punch to the gut. “What about Gina?”
“I’ll hire a bodyguard for her, too. Now shall we go somewhere and find breakfast? I’d like to head back to Dallas as soon as possible.”
His cell phone ran. Aidan, again. He took the call.
“Breaking news,” Aidan said. “I just heard from a friend with the DPD that Selena Hernandez’s body was found minutes ago inside the Cottage Boutique. She was shot twice in the head at close range. A cop found her when he answered a silent alarm she’d apparently set off before she was shot.”
“Sonofabitch.”
“Yeah. Looks like Trish Cantrell is playing with some real sweet guys. I’ll get back to you as soon as I hear anything else.”
Langston was trying to decide how to break the news to Trish when his phone rang again. This time it was Celeste. He let it ring. She’d never understand why he was bringing an old girlfriend involved with a killer home with him.
Chapter Five
Trish fought the panic. This was a nightmare, a horrible terrifying nightmare that she’d wake from any second. Only she didn’t wake, not even when she stepped out of her shoes and into the shallow water at the lake’s edge and her toes sank into the mud.
She stared out at the lake as the sun beat down on her back and the weight of the humid air clogged her lungs. A hand pressed into her shoulder. She didn’t bother to turn around. “Get out of here, Langston, while you still can. I had no right to pull you into my problems.”
“It’s a little late to think about that.”
Finally she met his burning gaze. “Just go, please. Just go.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
“You can. You should.” Her voice broke and the tears she’d been fighting welled in her eyes.
“I don’t run out on a task just because it gets tough. But you have to level with me. I have to know the whole truth.”
The anger hit hard, knocking her from the state of semi-shock. “I have told you the truth, Langston. I’ve told everyone the truth. And I never asked for you to take this on.” The anger meshed with the heartache over Selena, and she gave up on fighting the tears. They poured from her eyes and slid down her face. Trembling, she turned back to stare at the lake.
Langston shed his own shoes, rolled up his jeans and joined her in the water. “Take it easy. I’m trying to understand, but that carjacking story is a little hard to swallow.”
“Go to hell, Langston Collingsworth.”
“Look, I’m sorry if I sound doubtful. I’m just trying to get a handle on this.”
She tried to pull away from him, but he tightened his grip on her shoulders, pulling her close and then circling his arms around her. The sobs tore from her throat, and she fell against him, hating that she needed him, yet holding on as he rocked her in his arms.
He didn’t say anything else, and she didn’t have the energy to argue. When she finally stopped crying, he loosed his grip and took her hand, leading her back toward the cabin.
“I have to go back to Dallas,” she said. “I have to see Selena’s boyfriend. Enrico will fall apart when he gets the news. They were so in love.”
“Going back to Dallas is not a good idea.”
“It’s where I live. And there’s the boutique. I have to check on it.”
“I can have someone go to the shop and put up a Closed sign. The cops probably have it staked off with crime scene tape anyway, and I’m sure they’ll be looking for you by now.”
She shuddered. “To talk to me, or to kill me?”
“Hopefully just to talk, and, remember, you don’t have any real proof that Gary Packard was the guy who broke into your house. You admitted he had on a mask that hid all his facial features.”
“So what do you think I should do?”
“Talk to a lawyer.”
Her head spun. She didn’t need a lawyer. This was all some horrible mistake, what Selena would call… But Selena was dead. The pain gripped her again, leaving her so shaken she could barely think. “I have to call Enrico.”
“You can call him, but I think it’s best if you don’t tell anyone that you’ll be staying at Jack’s Bluff.”
For a second she thought she’d heard him wrong. Only the words were still there, rumbling through her mind, prying loose old memories. “I can’t go to your family’s ranch.”
“You have a better idea?”
None came to mind. But she couldn’t become that entangled with Langston. It was too risky—for lots of reasons. She’d go with him, but only to pick up Gina. After that, she’d have to handle this on her own.
Back to Jack’s Bluff. Back to the memories. Back to Langston. This was the last thing she needed now. And the only thing that made sense.
THEY LEFT TRISH’S RENTAL at the camp and took the Porsche to Jack’s Bluff. Langston kept his eyes on the road and both hands on the wheel as he dealt with I-45 traffic and talked into the hands-free phone. This was his fifth call from Melvin since they’d left Dallas. The timing for being out of the office couldn’t be worse. “We’ll need a full risk analysis on that project,” he said as passed an eighteen-wheeler that was hogging the road.
“Do you want it done in-house?”
“No. Hire the risk analysis consultant we used on the last project. She nailed the political implications on the head.”
“Angie McLaughlin. I’ll give her a call today.”
“And get me the latest data on Delaney’s drilling project off the Louisiana coast. I’d hoped to have that up and pumping before hurricane season.”
“I talked to Delaney this morning. He’s blaming everyone but the Pope for the delays. Says he’ll need at least two more weeks and that’s only if the tropical storm in the Atlantic doesn’t move into the Gulf.”
“In the meantime he’s running seriously over budget.”
“I reminded him of that. Guess that’s it for now. Oh, except that Lynnette said to tell you that the governor’s PR rep called. He wants you to attend an official dinner on August twelfth with representatives from the Saudi government who’ll be in Houston to discuss the global energy market.”
“Have Lynnette check my calendar. If the date’s open, tell her to accept the invitation.” Lynnette Billings had been with the company for at least twenty years, working for his grandfather before she’d become Langston’s personal secretary. He’d hate to tackle the job of running Collingsworth Oil without her.
“That’s it for now,” Melvin said. “Will you be in this afternoon?”
“Probably not, but you can reach me by phone if something else comes up.”
“Anything I can do to help you with whatever it is you’re dealing with?”
“No, it’s under control.” That wasn’t quite the truth, but Langston had no intentions of bringing Melvin in on this. He never liked mixing business with his personal life.
Not that personal accurately described his relationship with Trish. She was more stranger than anything else at this point. She’d cried in his arms at the lake, but she’d retreated back into a shell of a silence since they’d been on the road.
“You seem to have a lot of responsibility with Collingsworth Oil,” Trish said, speaking for the first time in the past thirty miles.
“I’m a very hands-on president.”
“President of Collingsworth Oil? At your age? I’m impressed.”
“It helps when your family owns the company.”
“Is your grandfather still CEO?”
“He was until he had a stroke three weeks ago.”
“Is he going to be okay?”
“No one seems to have a definitive answer on that. His body’s mending, but his mind seems to have shut down.”
“I hate to hear that. He was always so in tune with everything.”
“Right up to the time of the stroke.”
She shifted in her seat, turning so that she could look at him. He met her gaze for a second before turning back to the road. Her eyes were slightly swollen from her earlier tears, making her look incredibly vulnerable.
“Does your family know that you’re bringing me to the ranch?”
“I explained the situation to Matt.”
“And did he tell you that you were crazy to become involved in my problems?”
“It seems the word crazy might have been bandied about. But don’t worry about Matt. He likes to give advice, but he’d have done the same in my situation.”
His cell phone rang again. Celeste. Damn. He should have called her before now, but it had completely slipped his mind. He took the call. “Good morning, Celeste. I was just about to ring you.”
“I tried to get you, but your line was busy.”
“Taking care of business.”
“When are you coming home?”
“I’m headed that way as we speak.”
“Good. Shall I get dinner reservations for tonight or would you like to order in?”
“Best not to plan on me for dinner. I have to stop off at the ranch and I may be late getting into town.”
“You’re going to the ranch again?”
“Sorry. It can’t be helped.”
“Very well. I’ll make other plans. So was the abduction business a scam as I suspected?”
“Quite the contrary, but Trish is okay now. I’ll explain everything when I see you.”
“Whenever that might be. Don’t get so involved with playing hero to this woman that you forget the fund-raiser Mother is hosting for the governor on Saturday night. She’d be terribly disappointed if you weren’t there.”
“I wouldn’t want to miss the governor.” He said his goodbyes, and then glanced at Trish. She was staring straight ahead, the muscles in her face and neck showing the strain of the past few days. There was no way this had been a simple carjacking, but it wasn’t a scam, either—at least not on Trish’s part. The answers to all of this had to lie in that missing video.
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Joanna Wayne
No Collingsworth would ever turn his back on a woman in danger.Langston Collingsworth was a man to be reckoned with, powerful and president of the family oil business. So when the Collingsworth empire was threatened…it was personal.A young girl needed Langston’s help. But her mother was none other than Trish Cantrell – Langston’s school sweetheart. Trish and her daughter were trapped in a blackmail plot and had been on the run since the day Trish gave birth to a Collingsworth heir.Now it’s up to Langston to protect her child – his child – and face down the trouble headed their way.
A solid-gold Texas homecoming studded with trouble.
Langston stared into Trish’s eyes, aware of the feel of his body pressing into hers, aware of his hands still wrapped around her waist, his fingers splayed against the bare flesh of her stomach beneath the loose T-shirt. Aware of her hair, in complete disarray with pine straw jutting from the dark curls.
She stood and brushed herself off. “What are you doing here, Langston?”
“Nice to see you again, too, Trish.”
“I’m not sure it’s safe for you to be here with me.”
Not that he was going anywhere. There was no way he could walk away from her as long as she needed him. But there wasn’t a chance he’d let her sneak back into his heart.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Joanna was born and raised in Shreveport, Louisiana, and received her undergraduate and graduate degrees from LSU-Shreveport. She moved to New Orleans in 1984 and found the mix of cultures, music, history, food and sultry Southern classics, along with her love of reading, a natural impetus for beginning her writing career.
Now, dozens of published books later, Joanna has made a name for herself as being on the cutting edge of romantic suspense in both series and single-title novels. She has been on the bestsellers list for romance, and she’s won many industry awards. She is a popular speaker for various writing organisations and at local community functions and has taught creative writing at the University of New Orleans Metropolitan College.
She currently resides in a small community forty miles north of Houston, Texas, with her husband. Though she still has many family and emotional ties to Louisiana, she loves living in the Lone Star State. You may write to Joanna at PO Box 265, Montgomery, Texas 77356, USA.
Dear Reader,
Having moved to the small town of Montgomery, Texas, two years ago, I have fallen in love with Texas and the cowboy lifestyle. When I decided to write a series set in my new home state, I wanted to capture the spirit of the ranching families with their strong ties to the land. I envisioned the Collingsworths as a family bound by the old traditions, men whose word can always be counted on. But the Collingsworths are also on the cutting edge and have made their mark not only in ranching but also in the oil business. They are a family to be reckoned with and the mysteries facing the heroes and heroines are right out of today’s headlines.
Be sure to watch for future stories from the FOUR BROTHERS OF COLTS RUN CROSS mini-series. You’re always welcome at Jack’s Bluff Ranch, where sexy and brave cowboys are the order of the day and where true heroines will settle for nothing less than true love.
Joanna Wayne
24 Karat Ammunition
JOANNA WAYNE
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Prologue
Trish Cantrell rinsed her stemless wineglass and placed it on the top shelf of her dishwasher. She might as well call it a night. It was only ten, but she hadn’t slept well since she’d been abducted from a restaurant parking lot at gunpoint last week. Fortunately, her teenage daughter was away, volunteering in a summer camp program for disabled children.
The carjacking had left Trish so shaken she hadn’t been able to work for two days. The threatening phone call that followed demanding she return some mystery video had upset her just as much. But that had been a week ago and there had been no more contact. She had to move past this. Carjackings happened in the city. It was the new way of life in America.
She stretched and started back to the bedroom, then went back to double-check the deadbolt on the front door. She seldom went in or out that way, but checking locks had become a habit long before last week’s incident. She’d wait and set the alarm when she got back to the bedroom so that it would sound instantly if a window or door to the outside was opened or the motion detector was set off. Another habit that she’d had for years, though it was on her mind more now.
The floor creaked as she walked to her bedroom. She loved the house, which she’d bought almost on her first day in Dallas. It was almost seventy-five years old, but the previous owner had remodeled it without losing any of its original charm. The hardwood floors and the double fireplace that opened to the den and dining room were a couple of its most terrific features. And all of it cost less than the much smaller flat she and her daughter had in London.
Trish stopped to check the door that led from the laundry room to the garage. Locked, as always. She never forgot to stop and do that when she came in. In fact her briefcase, purse and keys were still sitting on top of the small household toolbox where she’d set them in order to turn the heavy double bolts.
A shuffling sound came from the hall, setting her hair on end. She shrugged. It was nothing but the old house settling. Despite the mental reassurance, a chill slithered along her nerve endings. She waited, and there it was again.
And then she saw him.
Adrenaline rushed her bloodstream as the man stepped closer.
“I told you to give up the video, but you just wouldn’t listen.”
Chapter One
Lenora Collingsworth smoothed her ash-blond locks and noticed the new smattering of gray. At fifty-six, a few gray hairs were to be expected, but that didn’t mean she had to like them. She liked the chaos that was contributing to their arrival even less.
She looked down and let her gaze linger on the picture of her late husband, marveling as always that she missed him after all these years. Things would be different if Randolph were still alive. He’d take the reins of control of his family company from his ailing father. The transition would be flawless and uncomplicated, with no one questioning his authority.
But Randolph wasn’t here, and Lenora was seriously concerned that all hell was about to break loose in the Collingsworth clan. Not that either of her daughters would want any part of running the empire. Her youngest daughter, Jaime, avoided responsibility at any cost, sure it would lead to her immediate demise as a free spirit. And her older daughter, Becky, was far too busy holding a grudge against her estranged husband and trying to raise her twin seven-year-old sons to concern herself with business affairs.
Lenora’s four sons were a different story. Langston, Matt, Bart and Zach each held their staunchly individual views of how Collingsworth Oil and the ranch itself should be run. Now, with their grandfather both mentally and physically incapacitated, she was afraid those differences would tear apart her close-knit family.
She turned at a rap on her bedroom door. “The old fart’s here,” Jaime announced, opening the door and stepping just near enough that Lenora could see that her skimpy blue shorts fit low on the hips, revealing lots of skin between them and the white blouse tied just below her breasts. “He said he’s ready to start the meeting when you are.”
“Thanks. Tell him I’ll be right down.” Nigel Slattery was not only the family attorney but an old and very dependable family friend.
“Don’t hurry. Becky went upstairs to change clothes and she’s not down yet.”
“Speaking of changing clothes, you could exchange those shorts for a skirt or a pair of jeans. This is a business meeting, Jaime.”
“It’s in our dining room. Besides, a bunch of us are going down to the lake when we finish up here. Don’t count on me for dinner. We’ll be back late.”
As usual. Late to bed and late to rise was Jaime’s preferred lifestyle. She had changed majors so often that it had taken her six years to get a four-year degree in sociology, and then she had spent a year traveling in Europe to find herself before she started on a career. She was twenty-five now and the only job she’d pursued with any enthusiasm or longevity was spending the remainder of the trust from her late great-grandfather that she’d received on her twenty-first birthday.
Lenora took a last sip from her glass of iced tea and straightened the front of her denim skirt and white blouse before walking into the hall. Loud voices and boisterous laughter rang in her ears as she descended the winding staircase to the first floor. Her four sons would already be sitting around the massive oak table that overlooked the giant oaks that Jeremiah had planted the year he’d built the house for his wife.
The table, like the house itself, had been built to withstand the hot south-Texas summers and the hurricanes that blew in from the Gulf of Mexico. But it was the winds of change that threatened now, and Lenora wasn’t sure even the Collingsworth blood that ran through all her children’s veins could withstand that.
Langston was the first to his feet when she stepped through the door, and she noted that her older son had already taken over his grandfather’s seat at the head of the table. She wondered what his brothers thought about that.
He kissed her on the cheek. “We thought for a minute you’d run out on the meeting.”
“Now why would I do that?”
Matt pulled out her usual chair at the other end of the table. “Maybe because you hate business discussions.”
“I like discussions. I don’t like arguments.”
“We never argue,” Bart teased. “We just have heated dialogue until these guys come around to seeing things my way.”
“Like that last brainstorm you had about inviting students from A&M out to run the spring roundup and branding,” Matt said.
“Was it my fault they sent us coeds who got sick every time the iron touched the thick hide of a cow?”
“Hey, don’t knock that experiment,” Zach said. “I managed a few dates with that hot blonde before she decided to transfer back to UCLA and become an actress instead of a large-animal vet.”
“Yep, little brother,” Langston said. “You scared off another one.”
Zach grinned. “Too much man for her.”
Nigel Slattery ignored the brotherly camaraderie, opened his briefcase and laid a sheaf of papers on the table in front of him. “What’s the latest word on Jeremiah?”
“The doctors claim he’s progressing physically,” Lenora said, “but he still just lies there staring into space. He shows no signs of recognizing any of us.”
“Then he’s obviously in no condition to continue as CEO of Collingsworth Enterprises, so I guess we should get started.”
“Right,” Jaime said. “Let’s see what kind of little surprise Gramps has planned for us this time. He’s probably decided we should go out and make our own fortune and given us thirty days to vacate the ranch.”
“Not funny,” Matt said. “In fact, I don’t see why we have to bother with this at all. Langston and I are the oldest. By rights he should head the oil company as he’s doing now and I should manage the ranch. We don’t need a CEO over us.”
“Whoa!” Bart said. “I don’t know what age has to do with anything, and last time I checked we were comanaging the ranch.”
“Sure. I wasn’t trying to exclude you,” Matt said. “Couldn’t do it without you.”
“Nice that you know that.”
“Aren’t you guys forgetting there’s a fourth brother?” Zach said. “You know, the good-looking one.”
Langston picked up a pen and scribbled on a notepad as if he were making notes. “I’ve got you covered, little brother. How’s president of chasing women?”
“Works for me as long as it pays well. But if Mom is going to insist I drive to Houston and spend my days cooped up in an office, I expect to be more than a flunky.”
Lenora studied her children as Nigel shuffled papers. Her sons had all inherited their father’s good looks, all with his dark hair and eyes, classic nose and strong jaw line. Langston was a tough businessman, used to playing hardball with the movers and shakers in the oil business. He was far more sophisticated than the rest of her sons, and when he was dressed in one of his expensive suits as he was tonight, she found it hard to believe his roots were here on the ranch. That worried her. As did his recent engagement, which had seemed to come from out of the blue.
Her girls looked far more like her side of the family. Becky’s hair was blond, streaked by hours spent in the sun with her boys. Jaime was a strawberry-blonde. Both were petite with fair skin and sky-blue eyes. The similarities ended there. If she hadn’t given birth to both of them in this very house, she’d have sworn there had been a mixup at the hospital. Becky was athletic and a perfectionist, as unforgiving of shortcomings in others as she was in herself. Jaime was—Jaime.
Nigel cleared his throat. “I’ve made copies for all of you, but I thought I’d read it to you first.”
“We can all read,” Langston said.
“I know that. I just want to get it all said and done before you start complaining.”
“I told you,” Jaime said. “We’ll be homeless by morning. Guess we’ll have to move in that fancy penthouse with you, Langston.”
“Celeste would love that,” Zach said.
“How about we leave Celeste out of this?”
Lenora would love to second that, but she counted it good fortune enough that Langston’s fiancée hadn’t pushed her way into the night’s meeting.
“I’ll just skip to the meat of the matter,” Nigel said. He waited until the room was dead-quiet before he started to read the chosen parts of what appeared to be a multi-paged document.
“My six grandchildren will one day inherit the Collingsworth fortune. I hope at that time they will be ready to assume full responsibility for running Jack’s Bluff Ranch and Collingsworth Oil Company in a manner that would honor the land and the Collingsworth name.”
Jaime’s cell phone rang. She tugged it from the pocket of her shorts and was about to answer when Bart reached over and quietly slipped it from her fingers. She made a face at him but didn’t protest further when he turned it off and handed it back to her.
Nigel looked to Lenora and something in the look multiplied tenfold the fear she’d been harboring. He took a drink from the glass of water at his elbow and adjusted his glasses.
“My grandchildren are clearly not ready to assume full responsibility yet.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Matt said, glancing around the room for backup. “If he’s thinking of bringing in some stranger to take over Jack’s Bluff, it’s not going to fly.”
“Let him finish,” Langston said, but his tone had taken on a wary edge.
“For that reason,” Nigel said, pausing to look each of the Collingsworth siblings in the eye. “I feel it prudent to appoint my daughter-in-law, Lenora Collingsworth as acting CEO of Collingsworth Enterprises and assign her the final say in all major decisions affecting Collingsworth Oil and Jack’s Bluff Ranch.”
Langston pushed back from the table. “If this is some kind of joke, it isn’t funny.”
“Right,” Bart said. “Gramps surely doesn’t expect me to consult with Mom about improving beef production.”
“Mom has no experience in the business realm,” Matt said. “Running an oil company or a ranch is a far cry from chairing a committee for the symphony or raising funds for the homeless.”
Becky threw up her hands. “It’s ridiculous. What will people say if Mom goes back to work at her age? The boys need her here. We all need her here.”
Jaime was laughing too hard to say anything.
Lenora fumed. She didn’t want the added responsibility any more than they wanted her to have it, but it wasn’t as if she was as old or as incapable as they made her out to be. They’d been born choking on a Collingsworth silver spoon. She hadn’t. She’d gotten her first job at sixteen, though she had to admit working at a fast-food restaurant in Galveston hadn’t prepared her for a CEO position.
“This is ludicrous,” Langston said. “Gramps was clearly out of his head when he had that drawn up. I’ll make the decisions at Collingsworth Oil.”
“And I’ll continue to run the ranch as I see fit,” Matt said.
Bart pushed his chair back from the table and stood. “Don’t you mean as we see fit?”
Langston pushed up the sleeve of his pale gray dress shirt and looked at his watch. “I have to get back to Houston for a dinner engagement at eight, but I’ll check my calendar tomorrow and call a meeting of the four of us to decide how to set up the new scheme of operations.”
“The four of us?” Becky questioned. “There are six grandchildren.”
“Why call a meeting?” Matt asked. “We’re all here right now. I’m sure that Celeste can eat dinner on her own one night.”
Acid pooled in Lenora’s stomach, and she felt the old familiar ache that twenty-one years of loneliness hadn’t erased. She needed Randolph here beside her. But he wasn’t here, and she wouldn’t see her family destroyed.
She stood and waited until she had everyone’s attention. “I appreciate your concerns, but as of tonight, and until Jeremiah is well enough to take over again, I am the acting CEO of Collingsworth Enterprises. And I do not intend to hold the position in name only.”
The shock of all six of her children was palpable. Nigel smiled. And Lenora feared she’d just made the biggest mistake of her life.
LANGSTON SWALLOWED A CURSE. This was all his fault. He was the eldest. He should have seen this coming and taken care of the issue before it reached the family table, or at least have handled things smarter tonight. He should have protected his mother instead of letting her be forced into a position she couldn’t possibly handle.
He stared down the massive oak table at her as if seeing her for the first time. He didn’t know when her hair had started graying or when the wrinkles around her eyes had grown deeper. In his mind she was still the mother who’d sat with him in the hospital after his first fall from a horse. The mother who’d driven him twenty miles to Little League practices and cheered him through every game.
She was Mom. Not a CEO.
“There are some legal issues we need to deal with,” Nigel said. “And some paperwork to be signed before all this becomes official.”
“We’re not signing anything tonight,” Langston said.
“Your signature isn’t needed,” Nigel said as he started to pass out copies of the document from which he’d been reading. “Only Lenora’s signature is required.”
The front doorbell rang. Jaime jumped up to run for the door. “I’ll get it,” Langston said, needing an escape. A double shot of scotch wouldn’t hurt, either.
He opened the door and felt a blast of hot air and a rush of memories that almost knocked him off his feet. The teenage girl staring up at him had dark, curly hair and sweeping thick eyelashes over soft doelike eyes. The same hair. The same eyes as…
He loosed his necktie in a futile attempt to make breathing easier.
The girl shoved her hands into the front pockets of her denim cutoffs. “I’m looking for Langston Collingsworth.”
“I’m Langston. Who are you?”
“My name’s Gina Cantrell.”
“Do I know you?”
“I think you know my mom. Trish Cantrell.”
Trish’s daughter. No wonder she looked so much like her, though the last name was different. But then it would be if she’d married and had a daughter.
“Do you know my mom or not?”
“Yeah, I know her.” He looked around for an unfamiliar car. There was none, and he doubted she was old enough to have a license. “How did you get here?”
“On a Greyhound bus. The driver let me off at your gate.”
Which was a good half mile from the house, and the temperature and humidity were both in the nineties. “Come in and cool off,” he said. “I’ll get you a cold soft drink and you can tell me what you’re doing here.”
She stepped past him. “I need your help.”
“If you’re running away from home, I can tell you right now that you’ve come to the wrong man.”
“I’m not running away. It’s my mother. She’s…” Gina shuddered.
“What about your mother?”
“She’s been abducted.”
Trish. Abducted. His mind closed down for an agonizing second then darted recklessly to a thousand places he’d forbidden it to revisit.
“At least, she may have been kidnapped.” Gina pulled away. She’d quit shaking, but she was staring at him, her eyes riveting and pleading. “I have to find her. Will you help me?”
The question bucked around inside him though the answer was a given. He could never turn his back on a woman in danger.
Chapter Two
Unwilling to involve the whole family in this until he had a better idea what he was dealing with, Langston had taken Gina to the screened back porch that served as the most popular gathering spot of the big house. Gina was perched in a wooden rocker, sipping from the tall glass of lemonade Lenora had pushed into her hand the second she saw how hot and sweaty the girl was. Langston took a seat opposite her on the wicker sofa, moving a few of the pillows so he could lean back.
Gina stared at him, and he sensed that it was not only fear but suspicion that shadowed her dark eyes. “How do you and my mother know each other?”
“We both worked for the same company when we were in college.”
Her eyes narrowed. “And you haven’t seen her since then?”
“That’s right.”
“I don’t get it,” Gina said. “If you haven’t seen my mother in years, why would she tell me to come to you now?”
“I don’t know, but if you tell me everything, maybe we can figure this out together. Start at the beginning, and don’t leave anything out.”
“I don’t know much. That’s the problem—or at least one of the problems.”
“What makes you think she’s been abducted?”
Gina’s hands shook, tinkling the ice in her glass. “Mom called me this morning.”
“What time was that?”
“Eight minutes after ten, according to the record on my cell phone.
“Did it record the number she called from?”
“It was her cell phone, but when I tried to call her back, there was no answer.”
Langston leaned in closer. “What did Trish say when she called?”
Gina shook her head. “I don’t remember exactly, but she said I should not try to get in touch with her—or to call the police. She said that she’d call me again as soon as she could, but she didn’t know when that would be.”
Langston noticed the teenager’s eyes were red-rimmed.
“Are you sure she said not to call the police?”
“I’m sure. I wanted to call 9-1-1, but then I was afraid to. I didn’t know what to do except come here.”
“Did Trish mention anyone’s name?”
Gina shook her head again. “But she also talked to the camp supervisor and told her there was a family emergency, and that she needed someone to drive me to the nearest bus station so that I could go to a relative’s home. When I got back on the phone, she told me to buy a ticket to Colts Run Cross and tell the driver to let me out at Jack’s Bluff Ranch. She said he’d pass right by here on his route and that once I got here, I should stay until she could get in touch with me.”
“But she didn’t say she was in danger or that she’d been abducted?”
“No, but she hasn’t called back. She knows I’m upset…but I can’t reach her. That’s not something my mom would do.”
“Who’s this camp supervisor you mentioned?”
“Ms. Bulligia. I’m working as a junior counselor in a summer camp south of Dallas. That’s where we live—Dallas.”
So Trish had moved back to Texas. He wondered when that had happened, not that it mattered. Their lives had gone different ways long ago—which made this all the more bizarre. “Is there a husband, other siblings?”
“No. My father’s dead. There’s just Mom and me. She owns a boutique, not far from our house.”
“What about a boyfriend?”
“Me? Or Mom?”
“Your mom. Is there someone she might have had a fight with?”
“There’s no boyfriend, at least not lately. She’s off guys,’ cause they’re jerks. This one guy used to come into the boutique to buy gifts for his wife, but he started hitting on Mom and then showing up everywhere she went.”
“What happened with him?”
“She called the cops, and they scared him off.”
So she did normally go to the cops, instead of telling her daughter not to call them. “When was that?”
“A year ago.”
“And she hasn’t been bothered by him since?”
“I don’t think so.”
Which didn’t necessarily mean the man had lost his fascination for Trish. She was not an easy person to forget. Langston could definitely vouch for that. They sat without talking, with only the whir of the ceiling fan and the occasional whinny of a horse in a nearby pasture to break the silence.
“Think carefully, Gina. Did your mother say anything else when she called?”
“Only that…” Gina’s voice broke completely and she hugged her arms around her chest. “She said that she loved me. That’s the last thing she said before she hung up.”
“Who did you tell that you were coming here?”
“No one.”
“Not even a girlfriend?”
“No. I was afraid they’d call the police and make this worse for my mom.” Gina shuddered. “I have to find her, but I don’t know where to look. I don’t know how to start.” A tear spilled from her right eye and started to roll down her cheek. She brushed it away with the back of her hand.
Something tightened around Langston’s chest like a lasso. He walked over and put a hand on Gina’s shoulder. He was awkward at dealing with emotional females, always had been. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but I’ll find your mother, Gina. Count on it.”
Gina jumped up from the rocker. “I’ll go with you to look for her.”
“No, you stay here at the ranch. You’ll be safe and you’ll be available if Trish tries to contact you again. But you can help.”
“How?”
“Write down anything I should know. Home and boutique addresses. Names of employees at the boutique. Names and phone numbers of your mother’s friends—male and female. The name of the stalker from last year. Where she goes when she wants some quiet time away from home. Anyplace you think she might go to hide.”
He pulled a pen and small black notebook from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and handed them to her. “And I need a current picture of your mother if you have one. If not, write me out a good description.”
“I have a picture of the two of us and Selena that we took before I left for camp.”
“Who’s Selena?”
“She works at the boutique, but she’s also Mom’s best friend.”
“Be sure I have her name, address and phone number as well.”
“When will you leave?”
“As soon as I can change into a pair of jeans and throw a few things together.”
“I’ll have the information ready.” She looked up at him, eyes moist. “You must have been a very good friend for her to have sent me to you after all this time.”
“Yeah, good friends.” And that was all Gina needed to know.
He’d spent years trying not to think of Trish at all. He’d never fully succeeded. She’d always been there, skirting the back of his mind like a song that stayed in his head long after the music had stopped. Now the music was hitting crescendo again.
But this was only about finding Trish and making sure she was safe. Old songs—like old feelings—couldn’t be trusted.
THE PLANNED FAMILY MEETING had dissolved, but a new one waited for Langston when he reached the kitchen, this one between him and his three brothers, who were all having beers and killing time until they could start interrogating him.
“What gives?” Matt asked.
“Do you remember Trish Edwards?”
“Yeah, I remember her.”
“Gina is Trish’s daughter, though the name’s not Edwards now. It’s Cantrell.”
“What’s her daughter doing here?”
“She thinks her mother’s in some kind of trouble, that she may have been abducted.” Langston filled his brothers in on the little he knew.
Zach straddled a straight-back chair. “So who is this mysterious Trish?”
Matt planted a hand on Zach’s shoulder. “A woman who dumped your brother years ago.”
“You’ve been dumped?” Zach asked. “Why have I missed out on this?”
“I was still in college,” Langston said. “You were a mere snotty-nosed kid at the time.”
“Exactly,” Matt said, his tone edgy. “Trish was a long time ago. You don’t owe her anything, and even if you did, this is police business. If there’s been an abduction, they’ll be able to handle it better than you.”
“Like I said, Trish doesn’t want police involvement, but I’ll call them if it seems warranted.”
“If you don’t want go to the police,” Bart said, “I know a great private detective in Houston. He does the legwork for Phil Caruthers and some of the other leading criminal defense lawyers in the city. There’s no one he can’t find.”
“Write down his name and phone number for me,” Langston said. “I may need him before this is over.”
“So what are you going to do?” Zach asked.
“Drive to Dallas and see if I can figure out what’s going on.”
“Why not fly up in the company Cessna?” Zach asked. “It would be a lot quicker.”
“I’ll need the car when I get there, and there won’t be that much traffic this time of the night. I can make the drive in under four hours.”
“I still say call the cops,” Matt said. “You don’t even know the woman anymore. She could be involved with drugs or wanted for something and on the run.”
“She owns a boutique. That’s not your typical criminal profile.”
“If I can’t talk sense into you, I’ll go with you,” Matt said. “Bart can handle the ranch a few days without me.”
“And if I can’t, I have CEO Mother to tell me what to do.”
Matt groaned. “That is not a joking matter.”
“I’d rather go this alone at first,” Langston said. “I can keep a lower profile that way, but I’ll call if it looks like I need assistance.”
Bart nodded. “What about Gina?”
“I’d appreciate it if you’d take responsibility for her. I don’t want her to leave the ranch unless you’re with her. And all of you will need to be on guard that no one comes looking for her and causes any trouble at the ranch.”
“That’s a given,” Matt said.
“Are you going to explain all of that to Mom?” Bart asked.
“That’s my next order of business. Then I’ll pack a few things and hit the road.”
“If you don’t have what you need, help yourself to my closet,” Bart said. “The jeans and shirts should fit. I don’t know about the shoes. I’ve got man feet, you know.”
“If the man’s a giant,” Zach mocked.
“I keep some old jeans and boots and such at the big house so that I don’t have to pack a duffel every time I drive out,” Langston said. “They’ll do.”
“Anything I can do to help, just say the word,” Zach said. “I’m your man.”
“How would you like to escort Celeste to a dinner party at Mayor Griffin’s tonight?”
Zach groaned. “Let me rephrase that offer. Anything I can do for you short of riding a maniacal bull or spending an evening with your charming fiancée, just let me know.”
“And she speaks so highly of you.”
“Yeah, right.”
None of his brothers were particularly fond of Celeste, but that would change when they got to know her better. He was sure of it. Langston headed off to find his mother and was already at the top of the stairs when Matt caught up with him.
“You’ll need a handgun,” Matt said. “You can take my Glock.”
“Thanks.”
Matt put a hand on Langston’s arm. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”
“Sure I do. When has a Collingsworth ever turned their back on a woman in distress?”
“Never, but I’m not sure that’s what this is about. If it’s about some kind of bond you think you have with Trish, just remember that the two of you were a hell of a long time ago. You’ve changed a lot in those years. She will have to. You can’t just go back and pick up where you left off, not even if…”
“I have no plans to pick up anything. I’m engaged. I just need to check this out. That’s all.”
“Sure.” Matt delivered a brotherly punch to the arm. “Just be careful, bro.”
“I always am.”
LENORA WAS IN SEMI-SHOCK by the developments of the meeting with Nigel and then with the idea of Langston rushing off to north Texas to rescue an old girlfriend. But she could see how Gina’s story would have gotten to him. The girl was scared to death.
“This will be your room,” Lenora said, leading Gina into the guest room on the far eastern end of the upstairs hall.
Gina looked around for a few seconds before dropping her one piece of luggage to the bed. “Did you know my mom well?”
“Not well, but I’ve met her. She wasn’t a lot older than you at the time.”
“Did she come here to Jack’s Bluff Ranch?”
“Several times. She loved the horses, could never wait to go riding.”
“She still likes to ride, but she doesn’t get to do it much. We live in the city.”
Gina walked to the window and stared out. The view looked directly over the garden that they’d built around the rosebush Randolph had given Lenora for their first anniversary. Beyond that was a stretch of pines that gave away quickly to open pasture.
It was almost six, but the sun was still high enough in the sky for the roses to show off their beautiful collage of colors. Dark came late in July.
“Mom never mentioned any of you,” Gina said. “I don’t know why she sent me here.”
“I couldn’t say,” Lenora said, “but delightful young ladies are always welcome at Jack’s Bluff.”
“Thanks.”
“The bathroom is down the hall, the second door to your left. Normally you’d have to share it with the twins, my seven-year-old grandsons who have the room across the hall from you, but David and Derrick are with their father for two more weeks.”
“I won’t be here two weeks. I’ll be leaving as soon as my mom’s okay.” She walked back to the bed and unzipped her bag. “How many people live in this house?”
“Currently six, seven counting you.”
“Does Langston live here?”
“No, he lives in Houston. And Matt and Bart have their own houses here on the ranch. Zach, Jaime and Becky—the twins’ mother—all live here in the big house.”
“You have a large family.”
“Yes, I do. You met all of them except the twins. How about you, Gina? Do you have brothers and sisters?”
“No. It’s just me and my mom.” Gina started to unpack, but stopped and collapsed on the bed.
“There’s plenty of time to shower and take a nap before dinner,” Lenora said. “We won’t eat until seven-thirty. Juanita’s making a chicken enchilada casserole, at least that’s my name for it. It’s spicy, but superb.”
“Who’s Juanita?”
“Our cook. Bart hired her last year, because he and the boys wanted me to take it a little easier. Actually, I miss my kitchen and I’m a little jealous sometimes that she gets the compliments instead of me.”
“Then why don’t you fire her?”
“I can’t. She makes tamales to die for. Besides, it gives me more time for my charity work and spending time with my grandsons.” And now time to exert some influence into the operations of Collingsworth Enterprises—or at least into the development of her sons and even her daughters.
Gina kicked out of her shoes. “I’d like a shower, but I can’t really dress for dinner. All I have with me are shorts and T-shirts.”
“They’ll do fine. I tried the policy of dressing for dinner for awhile. I gave it up after I got tired of sitting at the table by myself. Now we’re back to South Texas rules. Come as you are, but the horse and spurs stay outside.”
Gina finally smiled.
Lenora did, too, though a sudden horrifying thought crept into her mind. Suppose Trish wasn’t all right. Suppose Langston was too late and something had gone terribly wrong.
Maybe she should call Billy Mack. He had a friend that had been a Texas Ranger before he retired. Langston might not appreciate her calling their neighbor in on this, but Billy was older and had a level head on him. And he’d been a friend of the Collingsworth family all his life.
If Langston didn’t call back with good news by morning, she might just give Billy a call. Lenora forced a smile and left the room quickly before Gina saw her fear. The girl had more than enough of her own.
LANGSTON HIT THE ACCELERATOR of his sleek black Porsche as he pulled out of the gate of Jack’s Bluff and headed north. No matter what Matt said, this wasn’t about his old relationship with Trish. Those feelings were dead, had been for years. He might have thought he’d loved Trish once, but what had he known of love at nineteen?
Yet the old memories began to haunt his mind. Slow dancing with Trish in Cutter’s Bar. Watching her float along the surface of the water when they’d gone skinny-dipping in the moonlight. Holding Trish in his arms. Tasting her lips.
His muscles grew taut as a new wave of adrenaline rushed through his veins. Trish was in danger and she needed him. That’s all he’d deal with now.
Chapter Three
It was ten-thirty by the time Langston pulled up in front of Trish’s home in a fashionable section of west Dallas. There were lights in most of the houses, but Trish’s was dark except for the landscaping lamps dotted about the flowerbeds and shrubbery. The house was two-story with lots of angles and gables on a corner lot. Langston parked in the driveway and killed the engine. He’d made a few phone calls on his way north. One had been to Aidan Jefferies, a detective friend in Houston who’d learned that Trish had been involved in a carjacking/kidnapping incident eight days ago.
Luckily she’d escaped unhurt after being rescued by a local detective, a man who’d become suspicious when he spotted the car speeding down an Interstate exit ramp and recognized the abductor as a suspect he’d questioned months earlier. The detective had followed until Trish had run the car off the road and wrecked the car. A shootout had followed, and the carjacker had been shot and killed by the cop. It had made the local newspaper but not the front page. An explosion at a local plant had been the hot topic of the day.
An open-and-shut case according to police records, but Langston had a strong suspicion that it was somehow tied to the strange phone call she’d made to Gina.
He retrieved his emergency flashlight from his glove compartment and stuck it in the front pocket of his jeans. He also took the Glock, just to be on the safe side. He rang the bell and waited. As expected, there was no answer and no signs of life.
Breaking in houses wasn’t his specialty, though this wouldn’t officially be breaking and entering since Gina had given him her key. He put his face to the door and shot a beam of light into the foyer.
He couldn’t see much of the living area beyond the entranceway, but he did see an overturned table and a shattered vase, its bouquet of flowers scattered about the floor. His worry about alarms vanished.
He unlocked the door hurriedly and stepped inside. “Trish.” He called her name but didn’t wait for an answer before racing to the living room and then reeling at the destruction. Cushions and pillows were ripped and cotton and feathers were scattered everywhere.
Adrenaline rush and apprehension had his heart pounding as he made his way through the house. “Trish, it’s Langston. Are you here? If you’re hiding, you can come out.” There was no response.
The rest of the house matched the kitchen. Drawers were open, their contents scattered. Even the closets had been ransacked. Not your typical random vandalism. Whoever had come in was more likely looking for something in particular. He tried the kitchen door that led to the garage. It was unlocked and the garage was empty.
He stepped over broken glass and walked to the door that led from the kitchen to the backyard, flicking on the outside light and stepping outside. There was a small pool and some yard chairs. The area was enclosed by thick shrubbery and a high security fence. He spun and aimed the gun at the sound of movement in the water, but it was only the pool cleaner rearing its vacuuming head to spit a stream of water in his direction.
Langston scanned the pool. A plastic float was backed into the far right corner and a couple of iridescent diving rings rested on the bottom. The courtyard area was untouched by the demolition. He went back inside and searched again, not breathing easy until he was certain that Trish was not in the house, injured—or worse.
Leaving things just as he’d found them, Langston went back to his car, input the address that Gina had supplied into his GPS system and drove the few blocks to Trish’s shop, Cottage Boutique. He stopped a couple of doors down, in a strip mall to the right of Trish’s shop. The boutique looked more like an old house, a survivor in the world of sleek shopping centers. To the left was another cottage, this one a day spa spouting a sign that proclaimed it a haven from stress.
Trish’s boutique was closed, as were all the shops except for a chain coffee café at the far end of the strip mall. He studied the displays of fashionably dressed mannequins in two lighted bay windows of the boutique as he walked to the front door. Thick drapes hung behind the displays, keeping the shop’s interior from view.
The door was locked and the blinds were closed tight so that there was no way to see inside. A small sign by the doorway said Please Ring For Entry. He did. The shop stayed dark and silent.
Frustrated, he pulled the list of names and numbers Gina had given him from his pocket and held it beneath the beam of his flashlight. The photograph of Selena, Gina and Trish stared back at him. His chest tightened and his lungs closed around his quickened breath. His instincts screamed that Trish was in trouble and that if he didn’t find her fast, it would be too late.
He scanned the notes for the information on where Trish went when she needed to get away. Long walks in the park. Movies. A fishing camp on Lake Livingston that belonged to Selena’s boyfriend. If she was running from someone, she might have gone there.
Langston was already back in his sports car when the lights in the front windows of the boutique flicked off. Probably on a timer he decided, but he waited for a few minutes to make certain. He’d started the engine and was backing from his parking spot when he saw the garage door of Trish’s shop begin to lift.
Damn. There had been someone inside.
He revved his engine and swerved from the strip center, pulling into the driveway of the cottage just as a white compact car started to back out. The driver squealed to a stop when she saw him. He blocked her in, then jumped from behind the wheel and raced to her door.
He shone a beam of light into her car. The dark-haired young woman—the same one who was in the picture Gina had given him—stared at him, her eyes wide with fear.
He laid the pistol on top of the car, and leaned against the door. “I’m not going to hurt you, Selena,” he said, talking loudly enough for her to hear through the closed window. “I’m looking for Trish Cantrell.”
She shook her head.
“I didn’t have anything to do with the carjacking. I’m just a friend. Gina came to me for help. My name’s Langston Collingsworth.” Not that there was any reason she’d have ever heard of him. Still, he took his wallet from his pocket and pressed his ID against the window, shining his light so that she could see it.
Surprisingly, she responded with a nod and some of the fear seemed to dissolve from her face as if she recognized his name.
“Can you lower the window so we can talk?”
She nodded and did as he’d asked. “Where’s Gina? Is she okay?”
“At my family’s ranch down in Colts Run Cross. She’s fine but worried about her mother.”
No response.
“Where’s Trish?” he demanded.
“I don’t know.”
He leaned closer. “I know Trish is in trouble. I know about the carjacking and I’ve seen the mess at her house.”
“How could you know about the carjacking?” she asked suspiciously. “Gina doesn’t even know about that.”
“It’s not exactly a secret. It was in the newspaper and I talked to a friend who’s a detective.”
“You talked to the police?”
“I talked to one cop. He’s not with the DPD. Trish is obviously in danger, and Gina came to me. I just want to help.”
“I don’t know where she is. Now, please, move your car. I have to go home.”
He grabbed her arm. “Is she at your boyfriend’s fishing cabin?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re lying. She’s at the camp, isn’t she?”
“If I tell you, you must promise not to go to the police, not even to your detective friend.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. But Trish made me promise on the Bible, and you have to promise, too.”
He didn’t make promises easily, and he never broke them unless he found out he’d been lied to. This time he had no choice. There was no time to waste. “I don’t have a Bible on me, but I’ll give you my word as a Collingsworth and that’s just as sacred a promise.”
“It better be. She said she might go to the camp. That’s all I know. I haven’t heard from her since last night after someone broke into her house.”
Too bad he hadn’t known that before he’d driven all the way to Dallas. “I need better directions than Gina gave me. There’s no time to waste looking for the place.”
“Okay, but you have to help her. If you don’t, he’s going to kill her.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.” Her fear was palpable, and it crawled inside him, adding a sense of urgency that set his nerves even more on edge as she hurriedly scribbled the directions on the back of what looked like a gasoline receipt.
She pressed the note into his hand. “Make sure you’re not followed.”
“Count on it.”
“All I know about you, Langston Collingsworth, is that when Trish talks about you, it’s as if you are some kind of friggin’ prince. So be one now. Don’t let her down.”
He swallowed hard as she pressed the note into his hand. He didn’t bother with a goodbye, but just rushed back to his car, started the engine and jerked it into Reverse. He wasn’t a prince, but he’d stack a cowboy against royalty any day.
As long as he wasn’t already too late.
TRISH STOOD AT THE BACK DOOR of the rustic cabin and stared at the silvery bands of moonlight dancing across the lake. A light breeze stirred the leaves of a sweetgum tree, and an owl called down from one of its branches. Another time she would have found the isolation of the camp peaceful and inspiring. Tonight it only intensified the desperate fears that had driven her here.
If any of this made sense, she’d have a clearer idea what to do. She couldn’t just stay here, hiding out as if she were the criminal. But she couldn’t go back to Dallas, either, not until she knew what she was up against. And she definitely couldn’t go to the cops.
Neither could Gina. So now she was at Colts Run Cross, in the last place Trish would have ever expected to send her. But desperation made a person take desperate risks.
Trish stepped outside. It was warm, but not the same kind of unforgiving heat that attacked Dallas so mercilessly in July and August. Credit the wind blowing across the lake for that.
The moon slid behind a cloud, turning the night pitch-dark. The high-pitched chorus of what must have been thousands of tree frogs filled the night, accompanied by the occasional screech of an owl and the rustle of grass as one of the night creatures hunted nearby. Deer, squirrel, raccoon, skunks, armadillos—and snakes. She had lots of company. And she was totally alone.
A mosquito buzzed her face and landed on her cheek. She slapped it away, started to go back inside—then stopped dead-still as a new noise wafted on the breeze. It was a car engine. Fear slammed her senses. The man had found her. He’d make his demands again, and when she couldn’t deliver…
The car came closer. She’d parked her rental at the edge of the wooded area, hidden from view so no one would know she was here. Big mistake since there was no way she could get to it now in time to escape.
Still she had to try.
She rushed in the house to get the keys, then took off out the back door again just as the car stopped in front of the house.
She’d have to go through the woods if there were any chance of not walking right into his hands. The brush hit her in the face and her footsteps sounded like a herd of deer as she raced through the heavy undergrowth. He had to hear her, and he’d be right behind her. The outline of her car was in view when a prickly branch snagged her jeans and sent her crashing to the damp carpet of pine straw. The keys flew from her hands.
She felt for them in the dark, imagining that any second her fingers would rake the body of a slithering snake instead. Only now she could hear footsteps. The man was right behind her. Leaving the keys, she stood and started running again, this time deeper into the woods.
“Trish.”
The moon reappeared and filtered through the trees enough that Trish could finally see where she was going. She tried to run faster, but stumbled. Her fingers scratched and slid along the rough bark of a tree trunk. And then she felt the man’s body as he tackled her and they both went crashing to the ground.
“What the hell are you doing?”
She tried to roll over, but his body was pressing into hers and holding her down. “I don’t have…” Finally she’d wiggled around enough to see the man’s face, and her angry protests turned to cotton in her mouth. Her heart skipped erratically and then slammed against her chest.
“How did you find me?”
LANGSTON STARED INTO TRISH’S eyes, aware of the feel of his body pressing into hers, aware of his hands still wrapped around her waist, his fingers splayed against the bare flesh of her stomach beneath the loose T-shirt. Aware of her hair, in complete disarray with pine straw jutting from the dark curls.
A crazy jolt of arousal shot through him. He pushed away instantly.
She stood and brushed herself off. “What are doing here, Langston?”
“Nice to see you again, too, Trish. You really should work on your greeting skills, though.”
“My greeting skills are fine when I’m expecting company. I wasn’t. And you didn’t answer my question. What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you. Your daughter is frantic.”
“Is she with you?”
“No, she’s at the ranch. What the devil is going on?”
“I’m not sure, but I think the cop who saved me from a carjacker last week is trying to kill me.”
“Why would he?”
“I know it doesn’t make sense, but he wants a video that he thinks I have.”
“A video?”
“See, I told you it doesn’t make sense.”
To say the least. “Let’s go inside and you can give me the full story.”
“I’m not sure it’s safe to be here with me. He could show up any minute.”
“Then you’d better talk fast.”
Not that he was going anywhere. There was no way he could walk away from her as long as she needed him.
But there wasn’t a chance he’d let her sneak back into his heart.
Chapter Four
Trish had been totally unnerved before Langston arrived on the scene. Now it was worse. Langston wasn’t the same youthful, high-flying college guy he’d been that hot, sultry summer in Houston. She wasn’t the same naively optimistic woman she’d been. Still, the past seemed to dominate the situation and sensual tension charged the air.
Langston leaned against the kitchen counter, his piercing, dark eyes boring into hers. “Tell me about the carjacking.”
Trish pulled a sprig of pine straw from her hair, dropped to one of the worn kitchen chairs and propped her elbows on the table. “I’d gone to lunch with one of the sales reps from my favorite jewelry line, but had taken my own car so I could stop by the drugstore on the way back to the boutique. I was still buckling up when some guy opened the passenger side door and jumped in.”
“Buck Rivers.”
“Right. How did you know that?”
“A friend told me, but that’s about all I know. The guy must have been watching you when you exited the restaurant.”
“I guess, but I didn’t see him. If I had, I wouldn’t have thought anything about it. The parking lot was crowded and it was the middle of the day. And he was just a normal-looking guy—except for the pistol he pointed at my head.”
“Go on.”
“He was yelling at me to drive faster and ordering me when and where to turn. At first I thought he was just desperate to get somewhere and thought he might actually let me go after that. Once he forced me to turn on a deserted back road, I got a lot more worried.”
“Did he act as if he knew you?”
“He just referred to me as a rich bitch. When he told me to stop, I panicked and hit the gas instead. He tried to kick my foot off the accelerator. That’s when we left the blacktop. We were headed right for a bridge. I hit the ravine just before I hit the railing.”
Langston joined her at the table. “You’re lucky to be alive.”
She looked up and let her eyes meet his. His gaze was still piercing, but shadowed now. She dropped her eyes and focused on his hands. No longer the hands of a rancher, she noticed. They were smooth. And there was no wedding ring on his left hand. It didn’t matter. She couldn’t let it.
“I wasn’t hurt in the wreck other than sore muscles and a few bruises. The carjacker didn’t have on his seat belt and was knocked out when his head hit the side window. A car pulled up and stopped on the side of the road. I thought he’d just happened by and saw the wreck, but it was an off-duty detective.”
“Gary Packard.”
She nodded. “He said he’d seen us speeding recklessly down the exit ramp when we left the highway. He thought I was drunk, then got close enough that he recognized my abductor as someone he’d questioned before.”
“So he followed you?”
“Right, but he didn’t see the pistol pressing into my rib cage and didn’t realize I’d been abducted. He just wanted to see what we were up to.”
“How did he come to kill Rivers instead of arresting him?”
“Buck Rivers came to while I was explaining the situation to the detective. He took off running and Detective Packard gave chase. I ran to the car, retrieved my cell phone from my handbag and made a 9-1-1 call. When I heard gunfire, I panicked again and hid in the woods until a state trooper responding to my call showed up.”
“So you didn’t see the shootout?”
“No. The detective came wandering out of the woods after the trooper arrived. He said he’d shot the carjacker in self-defense.”
“How did you go from saved by a cop to thinking he is trying to take you out?”
“I’d like to know that myself. We hung around for a long time while the detective and the trooper searched the area. I guess they were looking for clues. Then when I refused to go to the hospital, the detective drove me back into town, asking questions the whole way. I had the feeling even then that he didn’t really believe I was a random victim.”
“Meaning?”
“I think he still thought I might have willingly been with Rivers. But he let it go and dropped me off at the car rental agency to get a replacement vehicle. He said mine would be towed, impounded and searched for clues even though the detective had spent a lot of time searching it while we were at the scene.”
“What kind of clues? They already knew who abducted you and he was dead.”
“I don’t know. I didn’t argue with him. I was still in shock at that point and just glad it was over. At least I thought it was over. Turned out I was badly mistaken. I got a phone call the next day demanding I return the video that Buck Rivers had left with me. When I told the caller I didn’t have it, he called me a few obscene names and said if I was lying, I was dead.”
“Did the caller give his name?”
“No. But when he first called I would have sworn I was talking to Detective Packard, but that he had a cold or something.”
“What did you do?”
“I called Packard and told him about it. Then he questioned me about having a video. I’m not sure he believed that I didn’t. But then he blew the whole thing off and said if there was no video then it was probably a crank call and that I should ignore it unless I heard from the man again. I didn’t hear from him so I thought I was home-free.”
“And then someone broke into your house last night.”
“Selena told you?”
“No, I went to your place first. It’s trashed.”
“My house is trashed?”
“Didn’t you know?”
“No. I left rather quickly after I rammed a screwdriver into the intruder’s face.”
“Keep talking.”
She explained the situation as best she could. It had all happened so fast that she was short of facts.
“Why didn’t you call the cops once you got away instead of coming here to hide out?”
She hesitated. Selena had thought she was paranoid. Langston would likely think she was plain crazy, but… “I think Gary Packard was the man who broke in my house.”
“You couldn’t tell?”
“He was wearing a ski mask. Look, I know this sounds crazy, but when I saw the intruder, I thought it was the detective. He had the same build, the same voice, but more gruff—like he was trying to disguise it, the same as the man had sounded on the phone.”
“You can’t just accuse a cop of trying to kill you, Trish.”
“I know that.” Her frustration level skyrocketed. “But I can’t ignore all my instincts, either.”
Langston nodded and pushed back from the table. “It’s too late to try to figure this out tonight, but I’ll make a few calls and get some men on it first thing in the morning.”
“There’s no reason for you to get involved in this, Langston.”
“You asked for my help.”
“I did no such thing.”
“You sent Gina to me.”
“I was hoping you’d keep her safe while I got this figured out. I didn’t mean for you to come looking for me.”
He stood as if the conversation were finished. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
“Langston, you really don’t have to get involved. I’m handling this.”
“You’re hiding in the woods. That was a wise escape plan. It’s not a solution.”
He’d been cocky at nineteen. He was downright bossy now. But he was right, She didn’t have a plan and had no clue how to come up with one. She’d faced a lot in her life, but at least before, the cops had been the good guys.
He looked about the cabin. “Is there anything around here to eat?”
“Apples and potato chips that I picked up when I stopped to get gas. Fortunately, I got out of the house with my purse. That was it, except for the clothes I had on and my keys.”
“Which makes me doubly glad I raided Mom’s refrigerator before I left.” Langston took his cell phone from the leather holder at his waist and tossed it to her. “Call your daughter and tell her you’re safe while I get the groceries out of the car. She’s worried sick about you.”
“I’ve already tried to use my cell phone. There’s no service out here.”
“Mine’s satellite. It will work. The number’s programmed in under Mom.”
Mom. Jack’s Bluff. Names Trish remembered from years ago. The Collingsworths were a strong Texas family with wealth and political influence. That was Langston’s reality.
And if she let him into her life, if he found out the truth about her and her past, that reality might become her destruction. So no matter how tempting it might be to let him come to her rescue, it was a risk she couldn’t afford.
IT WAS TEN AFTER TWO in the morning, and Langston was yet to close his eyes or even to lie down. He really wanted to believe Trish, but her story was full of serious holes. The biggest was how this mystery video was supposed to have fallen into her hands. Did the cop, or whoever had trashed her house, think that the carjacker had hidden it in her car before he dashed into the woods never to return again? Not likely. And even if he had, the car wasn’t in her possession. It had been towed away from the scene and impounded by the police.
He had to consider the possibility that Trish knew more than she was saying and that she might be lying about her relation—or lack of one—with Buck Rivers. His cell phone rang and he jumped to get it before it woke Trish. He whispered a hello.
“Langston, are you okay?”
Celeste. Damn. He was supposed to have called her hours ago. He stepped out on the front porch so that he could talk at normal volume. “I’m fine.”
“I was worried sick about you. Why didn’t you call me back?”
“I was tied up, and then it was too late. I didn’t want to wake you.”
“What’s going on with that Trish person?”
That Trish person. She said it as if it was some kind of annoyance, like bad breath or a flat tire. He wished he’d never even mentioned Trish’s name to her, but he’d owed her an explanation for running out on her tonight. He hadn’t mentioned that Trish was an old girlfriend. He wasn’t sure why except that it had been so long ago.
“If there’s even a chance she’s been abducted, you should call the police and let them handle it,” Celeste urged.
“She wasn’t abducted.”
“How do you know that?”
“I’ve located her.”
“Then why did she send her daughter to you?”
“It’s a long story, Celeste, and I’m dead-tired. I’ll call you in the morning and give you a full update.”
“Okay, but I still don’t see why you went rushing off to Dallas just because some kid yelled wolf. It’s probably just a scam to get money out of you.”
“We’ll talk in the morning.”
“Not too early. I may sleep in. The dinner party didn’t break up until nearly midnight. Melvin was nice enough to fill in for you at the last minute, and he and I went out for drinks after that. Just call when you get to the office.”
Thank goodness for Melvin. Not only was he Langston’s most valued VP at the company, but he was also always willing to pinch-hit when Langston couldn’t make one of Celeste’s social events. That was more than his brothers would do.
“I won’t call too early,” he promised. They said their goodnights and Langston broke the connection. Tired as he was, he didn’t go back inside. Instead he stood on the edge of the narrow porch and stared into the shadows that played around the cabin.
He wasn’t sure of the real answer to Celeste’s question about why he’d come running to Dallas but he was glad he had. He’d always needed closure with Trish. Hopefully this would provide it, and he could finally get past the memories of that summer and the two of them reveling in their exploding hormones and thinking it was the real thing.
Sure, he’d had a brief relapse tonight, but that was just the memories and seeing her again after so long a time. He’d see Trish through this, and then he’d go on with his life without a backward glance.
He went back into the house and into the hall to get a pillow from the closet. He passed the bedroom where she was sleeping and hesitated, his senses suddenly intoxicated by her presence. He listened to her breathing and imagined her head resting on the pillow, her hair disheveled with the curls dancing about her cheeks.
He took a deep breath and stepped away. Tomorrow he’d be fine.
Tonight, the memories held sway.
SELENA ARRIVED AT THE BOUTIQUE at six minutes before nine the next morning, though it didn’t open until ten and she’d stayed late to do paperwork last night. Her boyfriend’s truck was in the shop and she had to drive him to work for eight-thirty. Once she was out, she figured she may as well go to work herself.
Selena went back to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. Once the brew was dripping, she made a quick tour of the shop, checking each room to make sure it was ready for business. She saved the blue room for last. It was her favorite. The furnishings were the same type of beautiful antiques as in the rest of the cottage, but it was in the style of a privileged lady’s boudoir.
Selena never tired of laying the silky lingerie across the huge four-poster bed or displaying it in the magnificent, mahogany wardrobe. Not to mention that the white lace and satin bridal set she’d hung next to the eighteenth century washstand practically made her mouth water.
When she and Enrico married, she planned to wear one like that on her honeymoon. Then no matter how many times they’d made love before, she’d feel like a princess bride. She knew he loved her, but he wanted to save money for a down payment on a house before they set the date. But it would be soon. His bank account was growing fast.
Today, even thinking about that didn’t lift her troubled spirits. She started back to the business office, then paused when she thought she heard someone in the front room of the shop.
Just her jagged nerves, she decided, since even during business hours the doors to the outside stayed locked. Customers rang the doorbell as if entering the house of a friend. Trish claimed that was part of the boutique’s charm and made it feel far more exclusive.
Selena dropped to the computer and pulled up the list of customers to be notified that the new shipment of Jimmy Choo shoes was going on display August fourth. But there was that noise again, only closer. She spun around in the chair as the man stepped into the doorway behind her, one hand resting on the doorframe, the other behind his back.
“Nice little setup you’ve got here.”
“Who are you? How did you get in?”
“I came by to do some shopping. Where’s Trish?”
Oh, no! Fear settled like red-hot coals in her chest. She reached for the button beneath her desk that sent a silent alarm to the police, turning her body so that he wouldn’t see her fingers. “Trish isn’t here.”
“I can see that. Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“I kind of think you might.” He pulled the hand from behind his back and pointed the barrel of a stubby black pistol at her head. “Where’s Trish?”
Her stomach rolled and Selena tried to swallow through the hard, dry crust that her throat had become. “I told you I don’t know where she is.” Her words were so shaky she wasn’t even sure they were intelligible.
He inched closer, his hand steady and his finger sliding to the trigger. “I’m counting to three. If you don’t happen to remember by then where I can find your boss lady, you won’t be remembering anything ever again. And if you lie to me, I’ll track you down and yank your heart out through your throat.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“One.”
She didn’t want to die. She wanted to wear the beautiful bridal lingerie. Wanted to marry Enrico. Wanted to have his children. “This is about that video isn’t it? Trish doesn’t have your stupid video.”
“Two.”
She heard a siren. The cops were on the way.
“Three.”
LANGSTON’S CELL PHONE RANG at nine-thirty the next morning. The ID read Aidan Jefferies. Good. He knew he could count on his detective buddy to work quickly. “Any luck?”
“Some. Gary Packard’s got a clean record except for one count of domestic violence against his wife. That was ten years ago. They’ve divorced since.”
“What about Buck Rivers?”
“He’s been in Dallas for four years and has had several arrests—no convictions. He always seems to be around trouble, but there’s never any proof that he’s in it. He’s been working as a bouncer at one of the local gentleman’s clubs for the past six months. One of the dancers reported he’d beaten her up a month ago, but later recanted the charges. There’s probably a lot more on him, but that was all I could get with phone calls to the DPD. I’ll follow up, but I could fax that to you if you’d like hard copy.”
“We barely have indoor plumbing here.” He stepped outside the door so that Trish wouldn’t overhear his next question. “Did you get any information on Trish Cantrell?”
“She bought the Cottage Boutique five years ago after moving to the States from London. No police record. Not even an unpaid parking ticket. So are you heading back to Houston today?”
“That’s the plan. I’ll give you a call later.” He thanked Aidan again, broke the connection and went back inside.
Trish had showered and was dressed in the same clothes she’d had on last night. The shorts showed off her tan and terrific thighs and the pale pink T-shirt fit just snug enough to cup beneath her breasts. Her hair was still damp but curling about her cheeks.
He forced his gaze away. The close quarters were definitely getting to him. “I could use some breakfast,” he said.
“I still have an apple.”
“I’m thinking more like bacon and eggs.”
“I could go for that. I’m starved, and I actually got some sound sleep last night for the first time since the carjacking.”
“Good.”
“And I’ve made some decisions.” She propped her bottom on the arm of the faded sofa. “I’ll hire a private investigator to look into the mystery tape and a bodyguard to protect me until I know exactly who’s behind all of this.”
And just like that he’d be out of her life again. He should feel relieved, but his knee-jerk reaction felt more like a punch to the gut. “What about Gina?”
“I’ll hire a bodyguard for her, too. Now shall we go somewhere and find breakfast? I’d like to head back to Dallas as soon as possible.”
His cell phone ran. Aidan, again. He took the call.
“Breaking news,” Aidan said. “I just heard from a friend with the DPD that Selena Hernandez’s body was found minutes ago inside the Cottage Boutique. She was shot twice in the head at close range. A cop found her when he answered a silent alarm she’d apparently set off before she was shot.”
“Sonofabitch.”
“Yeah. Looks like Trish Cantrell is playing with some real sweet guys. I’ll get back to you as soon as I hear anything else.”
Langston was trying to decide how to break the news to Trish when his phone rang again. This time it was Celeste. He let it ring. She’d never understand why he was bringing an old girlfriend involved with a killer home with him.
Chapter Five
Trish fought the panic. This was a nightmare, a horrible terrifying nightmare that she’d wake from any second. Only she didn’t wake, not even when she stepped out of her shoes and into the shallow water at the lake’s edge and her toes sank into the mud.
She stared out at the lake as the sun beat down on her back and the weight of the humid air clogged her lungs. A hand pressed into her shoulder. She didn’t bother to turn around. “Get out of here, Langston, while you still can. I had no right to pull you into my problems.”
“It’s a little late to think about that.”
Finally she met his burning gaze. “Just go, please. Just go.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
“You can. You should.” Her voice broke and the tears she’d been fighting welled in her eyes.
“I don’t run out on a task just because it gets tough. But you have to level with me. I have to know the whole truth.”
The anger hit hard, knocking her from the state of semi-shock. “I have told you the truth, Langston. I’ve told everyone the truth. And I never asked for you to take this on.” The anger meshed with the heartache over Selena, and she gave up on fighting the tears. They poured from her eyes and slid down her face. Trembling, she turned back to stare at the lake.
Langston shed his own shoes, rolled up his jeans and joined her in the water. “Take it easy. I’m trying to understand, but that carjacking story is a little hard to swallow.”
“Go to hell, Langston Collingsworth.”
“Look, I’m sorry if I sound doubtful. I’m just trying to get a handle on this.”
She tried to pull away from him, but he tightened his grip on her shoulders, pulling her close and then circling his arms around her. The sobs tore from her throat, and she fell against him, hating that she needed him, yet holding on as he rocked her in his arms.
He didn’t say anything else, and she didn’t have the energy to argue. When she finally stopped crying, he loosed his grip and took her hand, leading her back toward the cabin.
“I have to go back to Dallas,” she said. “I have to see Selena’s boyfriend. Enrico will fall apart when he gets the news. They were so in love.”
“Going back to Dallas is not a good idea.”
“It’s where I live. And there’s the boutique. I have to check on it.”
“I can have someone go to the shop and put up a Closed sign. The cops probably have it staked off with crime scene tape anyway, and I’m sure they’ll be looking for you by now.”
She shuddered. “To talk to me, or to kill me?”
“Hopefully just to talk, and, remember, you don’t have any real proof that Gary Packard was the guy who broke into your house. You admitted he had on a mask that hid all his facial features.”
“So what do you think I should do?”
“Talk to a lawyer.”
Her head spun. She didn’t need a lawyer. This was all some horrible mistake, what Selena would call… But Selena was dead. The pain gripped her again, leaving her so shaken she could barely think. “I have to call Enrico.”
“You can call him, but I think it’s best if you don’t tell anyone that you’ll be staying at Jack’s Bluff.”
For a second she thought she’d heard him wrong. Only the words were still there, rumbling through her mind, prying loose old memories. “I can’t go to your family’s ranch.”
“You have a better idea?”
None came to mind. But she couldn’t become that entangled with Langston. It was too risky—for lots of reasons. She’d go with him, but only to pick up Gina. After that, she’d have to handle this on her own.
Back to Jack’s Bluff. Back to the memories. Back to Langston. This was the last thing she needed now. And the only thing that made sense.
THEY LEFT TRISH’S RENTAL at the camp and took the Porsche to Jack’s Bluff. Langston kept his eyes on the road and both hands on the wheel as he dealt with I-45 traffic and talked into the hands-free phone. This was his fifth call from Melvin since they’d left Dallas. The timing for being out of the office couldn’t be worse. “We’ll need a full risk analysis on that project,” he said as passed an eighteen-wheeler that was hogging the road.
“Do you want it done in-house?”
“No. Hire the risk analysis consultant we used on the last project. She nailed the political implications on the head.”
“Angie McLaughlin. I’ll give her a call today.”
“And get me the latest data on Delaney’s drilling project off the Louisiana coast. I’d hoped to have that up and pumping before hurricane season.”
“I talked to Delaney this morning. He’s blaming everyone but the Pope for the delays. Says he’ll need at least two more weeks and that’s only if the tropical storm in the Atlantic doesn’t move into the Gulf.”
“In the meantime he’s running seriously over budget.”
“I reminded him of that. Guess that’s it for now. Oh, except that Lynnette said to tell you that the governor’s PR rep called. He wants you to attend an official dinner on August twelfth with representatives from the Saudi government who’ll be in Houston to discuss the global energy market.”
“Have Lynnette check my calendar. If the date’s open, tell her to accept the invitation.” Lynnette Billings had been with the company for at least twenty years, working for his grandfather before she’d become Langston’s personal secretary. He’d hate to tackle the job of running Collingsworth Oil without her.
“That’s it for now,” Melvin said. “Will you be in this afternoon?”
“Probably not, but you can reach me by phone if something else comes up.”
“Anything I can do to help you with whatever it is you’re dealing with?”
“No, it’s under control.” That wasn’t quite the truth, but Langston had no intentions of bringing Melvin in on this. He never liked mixing business with his personal life.
Not that personal accurately described his relationship with Trish. She was more stranger than anything else at this point. She’d cried in his arms at the lake, but she’d retreated back into a shell of a silence since they’d been on the road.
“You seem to have a lot of responsibility with Collingsworth Oil,” Trish said, speaking for the first time in the past thirty miles.
“I’m a very hands-on president.”
“President of Collingsworth Oil? At your age? I’m impressed.”
“It helps when your family owns the company.”
“Is your grandfather still CEO?”
“He was until he had a stroke three weeks ago.”
“Is he going to be okay?”
“No one seems to have a definitive answer on that. His body’s mending, but his mind seems to have shut down.”
“I hate to hear that. He was always so in tune with everything.”
“Right up to the time of the stroke.”
She shifted in her seat, turning so that she could look at him. He met her gaze for a second before turning back to the road. Her eyes were slightly swollen from her earlier tears, making her look incredibly vulnerable.
“Does your family know that you’re bringing me to the ranch?”
“I explained the situation to Matt.”
“And did he tell you that you were crazy to become involved in my problems?”
“It seems the word crazy might have been bandied about. But don’t worry about Matt. He likes to give advice, but he’d have done the same in my situation.”
His cell phone rang again. Celeste. Damn. He should have called her before now, but it had completely slipped his mind. He took the call. “Good morning, Celeste. I was just about to ring you.”
“I tried to get you, but your line was busy.”
“Taking care of business.”
“When are you coming home?”
“I’m headed that way as we speak.”
“Good. Shall I get dinner reservations for tonight or would you like to order in?”
“Best not to plan on me for dinner. I have to stop off at the ranch and I may be late getting into town.”
“You’re going to the ranch again?”
“Sorry. It can’t be helped.”
“Very well. I’ll make other plans. So was the abduction business a scam as I suspected?”
“Quite the contrary, but Trish is okay now. I’ll explain everything when I see you.”
“Whenever that might be. Don’t get so involved with playing hero to this woman that you forget the fund-raiser Mother is hosting for the governor on Saturday night. She’d be terribly disappointed if you weren’t there.”
“I wouldn’t want to miss the governor.” He said his goodbyes, and then glanced at Trish. She was staring straight ahead, the muscles in her face and neck showing the strain of the past few days. There was no way this had been a simple carjacking, but it wasn’t a scam, either—at least not on Trish’s part. The answers to all of this had to lie in that missing video.
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Joanna Wayne
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современная зарубежная литература
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
Отзывы: Пока нет Добавить отзыв
О книге: No Collingsworth would ever turn his back on a woman in danger.Langston Collingsworth was a man to be reckoned with, powerful and president of the family oil business. So when the Collingsworth empire was threatened…it was personal.A young girl needed Langston’s help. But her mother was none other than Trish Cantrell – Langston’s school sweetheart. Trish and her daughter were trapped in a blackmail plot and had been on the run since the day Trish gave birth to a Collingsworth heir.Now it’s up to Langston to protect her child – his child – and face down the trouble headed their way.