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“You wouldn’t want to help me pull my bike out?” he asked in a calmer tone.
“Nope. I don’t go on Hamilton land. There’s a curse. Anyone named Davis who steps foot on that land dies a violent death.” She didn’t add by a Hamilton bullet. Never give ideas to the insane.
“We all die sometime, lady.”
She stepped into her truck. “I’ll have to test the curse later. Good luck with your bike.” Thunder rolled over the land as if pushing her away. “I’m in a hurry.”
“Wait. I’m sorry. Let me try again. I’m Blade Hamilton and I’ve just lost a sixty-thousand-dollar bike in the mud. Forgive me for not caring about an old curse or your groceries.”
“You’re forgiven, Hamilton, but I’m not stepping on your land. The good news is that bike isn’t going anywhere. It will still be right there in the mud tomorrow, but if I get these supplies wet, we’ll lose a week’s income.”
Lightning flashed as if on cue. The blink of light showed off the skeleton trees dancing in the wind near the water. Dakota fought the urge to gun the engine. For as long as she could remember she’d always feared this land. It felt like Halloween night without a light.
The man didn’t seem to notice the weather or the creepiness of the place. Who knew—maybe Hamiltons were used to scary nights.
“Fine,” he said. “Any chance you’d rent me your truck? I just need it for ten minutes and I’ll pay you fifty.”
“Nope,” she said. “But I’ll loan it to you if you’ll help me get these supplies under cover before it rains.”
“Deal,” he said, and walked toward the passenger side of her old Ford.
“In the back, Hamilton,” she ordered. “I don’t want mud all over my seats.” She fought the urge to add or you near enough to strangle me. Her grandmother told her once that there was an old cemetery, way back on Davis land, where all the deaths were recorded on headstones. Died in childbirth. Death from cholera. Died in accident. Death by Hamilton.
Besides, she didn’t have time to clean all the property listings off her passenger seat. Her mobile office was always a mess. Four mornings a week, the farm truck was her business vehicle.
He swung up into the bed of the truck with the ease of a man who’d done it many times and she started backing up before he was seated. The sooner she was home safe, the better. She’d loan him the pickup and tell him to just leave the keys in it. He could cross the pasture and walk back to his place easily enough.
The road was bumpy between her land and his, but she flew toward home, not much caring if the man bounced out or not. Her people had always hated Hamiltons. They told stories about how mean they were and even though she’d been told they were all dead, she felt it her ancestral duty to hate this new one.
So, why was she loaning him her truck?
Dakota shook her head. It was the neighborly thing to do. Having a grandmother with Apache blood and an Irish grandfather had messed her up for life.
A guy she’d dated a few years back broke up with her because he said she had Apache skills with a knife and an Irish temper. She almost hit him for insulting both sides of her family, but then she would have proved his point. She’d told him this was the twenty-first century and she was a skilled chef like her sister, which wasn’t true, but it sounded good. He left before she cooked him anything and proved herself a liar, as well. She heard him mumbling something about being afraid to sleep beside her for fear he’d be carved and thin sliced if he snored. He’d called her hotheaded just before he gunned the engine and shot out of her life.
Dakota gripped the steering wheel, realizing the old boyfriend had been right. She did have a temper, but with a Hamilton riding in the back of her truck, now didn’t seem the time for self-analysis.
She could be nice. She’d loan Hamilton the truck, and when he brought it back she’d tell him to never step foot on Davis land again. Simple enough.
When she slid to a stop a few feet from the kitchen door of her place, she glanced back. He was still there and raindrops were spatting against her windshield.
She jumped out and ran to haul the boxes of supplies to the cover of the porch.
To his credit, he did his share to help. More than his share, actually, because he carried a double load with each trip.
The guy was strong and obviously well built. And a biker. Black leather jacket. Leather pants hugging his legs. Boots to his knees. His cowboy ancestors were probably rolling over in their graves.
In a few minutes they had the boxes on the covered porch and the rain started pouring down in sheets.
“We made it.” She laughed. “Thanks. No supplies got wet.”
“I’m glad I could help. I’m already soaked so the rain won’t bother me.”
She decided he didn’t sound like he meant it about how glad he was to help. Maybe it was the tone in his voice—it didn’t sound right without a Texas twang. She frowned at him, wondering what northern state he’d come from.
He looked down at her with his gray wolf eyes and added, “If you got wet, you might shrink and then you’d be about elf size.”
Dakota studied him a moment. No obvious signs of insanity. “You don’t have many friends, do you, Hamilton?” She tossed him her key. “Park the truck at the turnoff on my land. You won’t have as far to walk. Leave the keys in the glove box.”
“Aren’t you afraid someone will steal it?”
“Nope. Nobody but you.”
He nodded and disappeared into the downpour.
Dakota straightened to her five-foot-two height and frowned. “Sounds just like what a Hamilton would say,” she mumbled, thinking it was obvious the Hamiltons had been the ones to start the feud.
Elf size. No one had ever called her that.
CHAPTER THREE
LAUREN BRIGMAN STOOD in the shadows of hundred-year-old cottonwoods planted to slow the wind off the open plains. The lights of town were nothing more than a glow of tea candles in the distance.
The night’s breath rattled the dried leaves in the trees as it had a dozen years ago. She felt a hint of old fear creep over her as a memory circled in her mind.
Strange how you live thousands of days, thousands of nights but only a few live in your mind, in your heart, as clear as the moment they happened.
She stared at the home her high school friends had called the Gypsy House. An old woman who’d died there decades ago was almost a skeleton before anyone had come to check on her. After her passing, the house was left to rot and became the setting for ghost stories told around campfires.
Finally, the grandson of the old woman, Yancy Gray, moved to Crossroads and found himself drawn to the place. He’d discovered he owned the house and had completely remodeled it. Yancy had painted the outside a cream color with shutters the burnt orange of sunset’s last glow. He’d enlarged the second floor and landscaped beautifully.
Yet in Lauren’s mind, the house was still abandoned and rotting, as it looked when she was fifteen. She’d danced with death that night twelve years ago; they all had. Tim O’Grady, Reid Collins, Lucas Reyes, and her. Just four kids walking home, looking for something to do, hoping for an adventure they could brag about at school.
Three boys and her, the youngest, the only girl, all in their teens. Sometimes she felt as if they’d been bound together by fear and the lie they all kept after that night. She’d never be free of the memory. One day she’d be bent over with age, but she’d still come to this spot every year and remember what had happened.
Footsteps played a rapid tap on the wet pavement behind her as thunder rumbled above.
Lauren stepped farther into the shadows and watched. There was no mistaking Reid Collins’s quick, confident step. He might be twenty-eight now and rich, thanks to a trust fund from grandparents and a ranch a few miles from town, but there was still a bit of the little boy in him. Spoiled, arrogant, and handsome. Word was that he’d be running for mayor of Crossroads in the fall with his eye on the Texas State Senate in ten years, but Reid would never have her vote.
As far as she knew, he never finished college or anything else he’d started. Her father, the town’s sheriff, told Lauren a few months ago that the only way to kill an improvement project in the county was to put Reid in charge. He’d never get around to the planning meeting, much less completion.
The tapping of his boots stopped a few feet in front of the cottonwoods. “I know you’re in there, Lauren. That long, blond hair of yours glows in the dark. You might as well come out.” His laugh wasn’t quite real. Too polished, too practiced.
She slowly stepped onto the road. “I didn’t think you’d be in town, Reid. Did they run out of parties in the big city?” He didn’t look entirely sober, but she didn’t mention it. “Pop said they canceled the city council meeting because you had to be in Austin today.”
“I just got back. The Governors Balls are not what they used to be.” He smiled as if really looking at her for a change. “You know, Lauren, I miss our once-a-year dates from college. You were the only girl I took out now and then that I didn’t sleep with.” His gaze traveled down her long, slim body.
She didn’t miss him. Those dates had been torture. Putting up with his loud, self-centered fraternity brothers, trying to act like she was having a good time watching them brag. He’d said once that he liked having a tall blonde on his arm, like she was an accessory.
She and Reid were from the same town; their dads had been friends, so she’d gone out with Reid Collins a few times. She felt sure half the people in town wanted them to marry, but she’d never match with him. She loved learning almost as dearly as he loved partying.
“I was a perfect gentleman.” He bragged as he moved closer, almost nose to nose with her. “Never even made a pass.”
“You’re right, but I’m surprised you remembered I was there. Weren’t you engaged two or three times while you were at Tech?”
“Two. The third one was all in her head. Once I came home to run the ranch, I was so bored I almost married the first girl who came along. Big mistake. She’s still spreading trash about me.” He tried to loop his arm over her shoulder but she stepped away. “You’re looking good, Lauren. Aging well.”
“I’m twenty-seven, Reid, not exactly a centenarian.”
“I know, but you wouldn’t believe how some women change after college. I went to the planning meeting for my ten-year high school reunion and some of the kids I graduated with had slipped into middle age. I thought one girl must have sent her mother to the meeting.” He slurred a few of his words.
Lauren didn’t want to talk to Reid Collins, not ever, much less on the anniversary of the accident at the old Gypsy House. “I just came out to remember what happened twelve years ago. How about you?”
Collins looked around, as if he had no idea what she was talking about. As far as she knew, he’d never mentioned the night of the accident to any of the three who were with him. He’d simply taken credit for saving everyone that night. An account none of the others shared.
She smiled, wondering why they’d silently watched him play the hero. The school even had a pep rally for him, and the mayor had given him a key to the city. Lauren, Lucas and Tim remained silent and let the lie about that night stand, even though the truth wouldn’t hurt anyone now.
“I spotted your car at the truck stop and decided to walk off the long drive. Thought you might have wandered down this direction,” Reid said, a bit too loudly, almost as though he thought someone might be eavesdropping and he wanted them to hear him. “Strange we meet here at almost midnight. The people in this town are like ants. They disappear as soon as it gets dark.”
“Maybe they don’t disappear. Maybe you just don’t notice them.”
“You want to go for a drink?” he asked suddenly, as if the timer in his brain went off and it was time for another.
“No.” She didn’t bother with a reason.
He rocked on his heels and went back to their conversation. “I doubt anyone except you, Lauren, remembers that night we got trapped in the old Gypsy House. Ancient history. Four kids almost died when they ventured into an abandoned house. Why don’t you do an article in that little online paper of yours about it?”
“You really think no one remembers? Twelve years ago tonight was when Tim was crippled. He still limps a bit, so he’s not likely to forget.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s right. I was hurt too, you know.” Reid backed away a few feet, as though not wanting her to see him so clearly. “My ankle still gives me trouble when I play tennis.” He rushed on as if needing to change the subject. “My last stepmother put in a court and a pool at the ranch headquarters to make sure I exercise it regularly.”
“How are your father and his new bride?” Lauren had no idea if this was number five or six.
Reid shrugged. “I don’t know. They mostly travel. She hates the ranch so Dad bought her a town house in Dallas and she owns a vineyard outside of Paris, thanks to her last husband. Dad lucked out marrying this one. He plays golf and she shops while they’re in the States, and who knows what they do in Paris? I run the ranch, you know, have for years. It’s a real headache. Dad and I would both like to be rid of the place. He sold several pastures before he left town two years ago.”
She started walking and he fell into step. Neither mentioned the light rain.
“Why don’t you drive out some weekend? It’s only a few miles, but it might feel like a retreat after living in this town. We could talk about our college days, maybe watch a Tech game. I’ve got the whole fall season recorded. Man, I miss those days at Tech. The games, the parties, the carefree life.”
She smiled. He hadn’t mentioned the classes. “You could invite Tim O’Grady and Lucas Reyes to come too. Maybe we could talk about the night the old house almost swallowed us.”
“Sure.” He dragged the one word out. “Only, come to think of it, I’m snowed under with work right now. We’ve got problems with some of the old cowhands on the spread that should have been fired years ago. My father always let them run the place, but I’m changing things, modernizing. Land’s good for more than running cattle.”
Lauren stopped listening to Reid’s excuses as she spotted a lean shadow of a man moving toward them. His head was down, his collar turned up to the wind as he limped along. There was no mistaking the shaggy red hair always in need of a cut or the dark auburn beard.
“Tim!” Lauren bolted toward him. “You’re home.”
The shadow man looked up and straightened. A moment later she was in his arms and he was swinging her around.
“I figured you’d be out here, L.” Tim held her tightly as only a lifelong friend can. “Did you have to return to the scene, like me? I figure once a year it’s okay to let the memory roll over me.”
She pulled away. “Reid came out too.”
“With you?” Tim whispered.
Lauren shook her head and Tim faced Reid. “Hello, Collins. Haven’t seen you in a while. Word is you don’t spend much more time on the ranch than your dad did. A Collins ranch without any Collinses. Maybe you should think of another name for the place.”
Reid offered his hand but his words were colder than the night air. “Good to see you, Tim. Still writing those little invisible books? Ebooks, right? Any money in fiction made of air?”
Tim turned back to Lauren as if he hadn’t seen Reid’s hand, but she could feel the tension between the two. They’d been best friends once, before the accident. High school football players, sixteen and invincible. She remembered they’d both had their football jackets on that night. Tim never played or wore the jacket again that she knew about.
“My books make more money than his invisible cattle, I’m guessing,” Tim whispered to Lauren.
Forcing down a laugh, she linked her arm around each man’s elbow and marched on toward town. The less time these two had to talk, the better.
It had been twelve years since they’d walked this road together. They’d grown up, they’d grown apart, but in many ways nothing had changed. Tim was still the dreamer, Reid was still full of himself, and she was still waiting to start her life.
As they neared town, she noticed all their cars were scattered around the parking lot of the fancy new truck stop with lights so bright Lauren was sure it could be seen from space. Years ago, the corner where two highways crossed had been only a little gas station/convenience store with a trailer park in back. Now the truck stop took over the block and never closed.
Tim’s old Jeep, the one he refused to trade off, was by the gas pumps. Reid’s Mercedes was parked on the side. Lauren’s old blue Explorer was near the front door. Next to Reid’s car was a rusty junker of a pickup with a man leaning against it, his boots propped up on Reid’s Mercedes’s fender.
“Lucas!” Reid jerked away from Lauren and stormed toward the lights of the truck stop. “I knew this was coming. Damn it, Reyes, get your boots off my car!” His order sounded hollow in the still air, with no one around to notice but the tall figure with his boots still on the Mercedes.
Lauren and Tim slowed, staying in the shadows between light circles. “What’s going on?” she whispered.
Tim laughed. “I’m not sure, but I think Lucas Reyes is about to finally beat the hell out of Reid Collins.”
“That’s impossible. Lucas is always reasonable.” She watched Reid running toward Lucas, his swearing firing in time to his footsteps. Reid was already out of control, but Lucas looked calm, driven, deadly. Something was wrong.
“You’ve got to stop this.” She tried to pull Tim along. With no one else at the station, Tim was her only hope.
“Stop it? Hell, I plan on watching the fight, then swear I didn’t see a thing. It’s about time someone straightened out a lie Reid’s been telling for twelve years. Maybe Lucas just got tired of him building on more lies. We all know he wasn’t the hero that night, L, but Reid keeps bragging like he saved us all. He even did an interview with Texas Monthly about it a few months ago.”
Lauren pulled Tim along. “No. This isn’t about the lie he told at the Gypsy House. This is something more.” Just from his stance she knew Lucas Reyes hadn’t come to talk.
Before her words died in the air, Reid stormed toward Lucas and ordered him again to get his boots off the Mercedes.
When Lucas didn’t move, Reid yelled names at him as if they were in high school and not in their late twenties.
Lucas, dressed in Western clothes and not the suit he wore into court, slowly stood and widened his stance as Reid reached him.
Reid pointed his finger at Lucas as cusswords flew in rapid fire.
Lucas raised a fist and swung.
Lauren and Tim froze, watching. The lawyer’s fist connected with the part-time rancher’s face. The sound echoed off the cloudy night as sharp as gunfire, then silence as Reid crumbled.
“Did you see that?” she whispered.
“Yep. He flattened the guy with one blow. I’m tempted to go over there and kick Reid for not putting up more of a fight.”
They were still ten feet away when Lucas pulled out, leaving one of the richest men in Crossroads—a city councilman, a playboy, a liar—spread out on the oil-spotted concrete.
Tim reached him first and shook Reid’s shoulder. “You all right, slugger?” Tim teased.
Reid groaned and rolled onto his side in the blood and dirt of the parking lot.
Tim finally offered his hand and pulled Reid to his feet.
“You two saw what that bastard just did?” Reid spit blood. “Damn it, I knocked my tooth loose when I hit the ground. I swear I’m filing charges. He may be a big-city lawyer, but he can’t assault me just because I fired his old man.”
Tim let go of him and Reid fell against his car, bloodying his nose again. Tim didn’t seem to care. “Reyes has been foreman at your ranch for years. The place would have never been a working ranch if he hadn’t been there while you and your dad were traveling all over the country.” Tim made a fist. “You fired him? That’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever done, Reid.”
Lauren gripped Tim’s arm, fearing Reid was about to get hit again.
Reid didn’t notice. He was still spitting blood. “That’s why we’re so far behind the times. I had to get rid of all the deadwood around the place. I’ve got plans.”
He wiped his nose on his suit jacket. “Lucas is going to be so sorry he did this to me. I’ll file charges. He’ll lose his license to practice law. I’ve got you two as witnesses.”
Tim shook his head. “Sorry, Reid, I didn’t see a thing. I was trying to kiss Lauren. I think I might have heard a popping sound but I’m not sure.”
“What?” Reid swore. “I should have known I couldn’t depend on you.” He looked at Lauren. “At least Lauren is honest.”
Lauren straightened and did something she never did. She lied. “I was fighting off Tim. He’s been trying to kiss me since we were six. I’m sorry, I didn’t see anything but you lying by your car. I figured you were drunk again. I could swear to that if you want me to. I’ve seen you drunk enough times to know.”
Reid opened his car door, ignoring the blood dripping all over his white upholstery. “You two will be sorry. I can’t believe I ever thought of you as friends. The sooner I get out of this town, the better.”
They watched him drive away, and then Tim whispered, “You sorry, L?”
“Nope. How about you?”
“I’m sorry I didn’t see a thing. I would have really liked to help Reid out,” Tim said in mock-seriousness. “He’s been such a good friend of mine.” Lies dripped out of Tim’s mouth faster than blood dripped out of Reid’s.
“Yeah, me too.” She laughed as she tugged him toward her car. “How about we go check on Lucas.”
“You have any idea where he is?”
“I have an idea.”
* * *
LAUREN APPROACHED THE grassland of the Double K Ranch by the watery light of the midnight sky. She was on Kirkland land now. This was the first ranch established in this part of the country and still the biggest spread for a hundred miles around.
Staten Kirkland knew that years ago she and Lucas used to come out here to watch the stars. He probably wouldn’t be surprised that they still did. The Collins ranch, where Lucas’s dad had been foreman, bordered Kirkland’s. Lucas had grown up near here and he’d spent his college years cowboying for the Double K on weekends. He’d ridden both spreads when he’d been growing up and knew them well.
Lauren knew that if she had a chance of finding Lucas anywhere, it would be at this lonely spot where no lights from any town or ranch house could reach.
Parking her car on the county road, she pulled on her raincoat and climbed through the fence. As she neared the windmill, she didn’t see his car but she saw the outline of the old pickup he’d been driving in town.
She smiled. He might have been dumb enough to hit Reid Collins, but Lucas had enough sense not to drive his low BMW over dirt trails that didn’t even qualify to be called roads.
Slowly she walked toward the silhouette. She knew the moment he spotted her. He straightened and faced her. Lucas Reyes might be a lawyer now, but he fit here. He was a man who came from the land. He was as much a part of it as it was of him.
“Where’s that new BMW your mother told me you bought last month?”
“I traded it for the pickup. Told my dad to take it out for a spin.” Lucas’s voice was clear but his face was lost in the night. “Mom suggested a vacation might be nice. My father hasn’t taken more than a long weekend off in years.
“Where’s Tim?” the shadow asked when she was ten feet away.
“He didn’t believe you’d be out here. Tim said he’d bet you were at one of the bars. There’s only two but he said it would take until closing time for him to make a complete sweep of the places.”
Lucas huffed but didn’t comment.
She moved closer, not knowing what to say to a man she hadn’t seen in over a year but had been in her thoughts almost every day. They’d been close once, but now she felt she barely knew him. Maybe she never had. His dark good looks were still there, but the favoring of his Hispanic heritage was almost gone from his voice.