“I think it’s time for the second kiss.”

His good judgment vanished as Jade’s arms wrapped around his neck. He captured her lips with his and he was done for. The thrill sent blood rushing to his head, making him dizzy with desire.

He leaned against the door frame and pulled her against him as the kiss deepened. Her lips opened and the taste of her rocked his soul. When his lungs ached from lack of air, he held her even tighter, nibbling her lips and then trailing her neck with kisses. Fighting not to explode, he finally came to his senses.

She was tipsy, vulnerable, her life mired in uncertainty. A kiss was one thing. But making love would take things to a new level, good or bad, that would leave no room for going back.

He couldn’t risk it, not with her life in his hands.

Showdown at

Shadow Junction

Joanna Wayne

www.millsandboon.co.uk

JOANNA WAYNE began her professional writing career in 1994. Now, more than fifty published books later, Joanna has gained a worldwide following with her cutting-edge romantic suspense and Texas family series such as Sons of Troy Ledger and the Big “D” Dads series. Joanna currently resides in a small community north of Houston, Texas, with her husband. You may write to Joanna at PO Box 852, Montgomery, Texas 77356, USA, or connect with her at www.joannawayne.com.

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

To my family, who keep me grounded; my friends, who keep me entertained and sane; and to my fantastic editor, Denise Zaza, who lets me keep creating Texas ranching families like the Daltons.

Love and thanks to all.

Contents

Cover

Excerpt

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

“This is the crown of my collection, the surprise revelation I promised for my final US showing.”

Jade Dalton stared in awe at the necklace. A cascade of flawless diamonds, separated by pure green emeralds dangled from Quaid Vaquero’s fingertips.

“It’s magnificent. It’s...” She paused. “Mere words cannot do it justice.”

“I’m glad you’re impressed. It took over a year to find the perfect gems, almost three hundred of them, hand cut and set in platinum.”

“I’m afraid to even ask the price,” Jade said.

Quaid smiled. “Two twenty-five. No price bickering. I won’t part with it for anyone who doesn’t appreciate not only its quality but its beauty and artistic value.”

“Two hundred twenty-five thousand?”

He smiled as if amused by her naiveté. “Two hundred twenty-five million, my sweet.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Not at all.”

“Now you’re scaring me. What on earth are you doing with this in your hotel suite? I need to call someone from security immediately. I think Officer Reggie Lassiter is in charge tonight. He’ll make sure this is placed in the showroom where he and his security detail can guard it.”

“Relax. No one knows it’s here but the two of us. Besides, it’s well insured.”

“Still, this isn’t wise, Mr. Vaquero. Had you mentioned this to me, I would never have approved it. Neither would Reggie. And if I were your insurance provider, I would be in a state of pure panic.”

“A piece such as this is created to be worn by an equally beautiful woman, not locked away. And not to change the subject, but you’ve worked closely with me for two weeks now. Don’t you think it’s time you start calling me Quaid?”

“Quaid it is. But I work for you, not with you. And as your event planner, I am very nervous now.”

“I can tell.” He put a hand to the small of her back and nudged her toward a full-length tilt mirror. The mirror support and frame were dark polished wood and, like everything else in his luxury suite, looked antique and no doubt far more expensive than it actually was.

“Look at yourself,” Quaid urged. “I’ve never seen you this flustered.”

Her nerves were edgy and with good reason. People didn’t just walk around a New York hotel with a two-hundred-million-dollar-plus necklace in their pocket. Her ex-stepfather number three had worked as a hotel food manager. He’d told her plenty of stories about professional hotel thieves robbing guests, though admittedly, this was usually when they were out of their room. But you never knew when thieves would become emboldened.

Who’d inspire risk taking more than a world-renowned jewelry designer?

She turned and looked into the mirror, but it wasn’t her uneasiness that she saw reflected in the glass. It was the incredibly handsome Spaniard standing behind her with his dark, soul-searing eyes and seductive glances. The man who had mesmerized her for the past two weeks.

His hands brushed her shoulders as he fastened the sparkling work of art around her neck. The shimmering jewels fell into the swell of her cleavage just above the spaghetti-strap red cocktail dress she’d splurged a month’s wages on for tonight’s event.

“It’s breathtakingly beautiful,” she murmured truthfully.

“It’s you who is breathtaking, Jade. The jewels merely accentuate your natural beauty.”

Charm oozed from Quaid every time he opened his mouth. Yet she sensed something more poignant in his manner tonight. Probably just more relaxed because it was the end of his visit to America.

Or could he possibly be interested in a romantic interlude now that their business association was reaching its conclusion? Would he invite her to visit him in his lavish lakeside villa in Spain or perhaps to sail around the Greek Islands on his massive yacht?

Don’t even go there, she cautioned herself. The man had supermodels and royalty at his beck and call.

Tonight’s event promised to be his best-attended showing to date. His reputation had skyrocketed since his arrival in New York. Wearing jewelry from Quaid Vaquero’s collection had become the rage among the ultra-wealthy society set.

Quaid put his mouth to her ear as if they were exchanging secrets. “I would be honored if you’d wear the necklace this evening.”

His warm breath on her neck was intoxicating. His offer was incredibly tempting. It was also a terrible idea. Her job was to make certain the night went without a snag, not to model and play princess.

“I’d love to wear this necklace, Quaid. As it is, you might have to pry it from my neck. But anything this valuable must be under one of the museum-quality glass domes for tonight’s showing.”

“You’ve assured me there will be cameras and plainclothes security personnel in abundance.”

“Yes, but there are other drawbacks to my wearing it.”

“Such as?”

Quaid’s fingers trailed seductively from the back of her neck to her bare shoulders. He was not making this easy.

“The necklace must be displayed appropriately so that your potential customers can examine it thoroughly through the glass and hopefully request to try it on.”

“Point made. But let me enjoy it on you for the moment.”

“For a moment,” she acquiesced, “but we really should be going soon. I’m sure the first of your guests are already arriving. They’re here to meet you as much as they are to see your creations.”

“They can wait. First, I have a gift for you.”

“Honestly, that’s not necessary.”

“Gifts are never necessary, Jade. They should always come from the heart.”

He turned, tugged her around to face him and took both her hands in his. Her heart pounded. He was going to kiss her. This was a working assignment. She should step away.

Instead, she lifted her lips toward his. The moment was interrupted by a light tapping.

“Room service.”

Quaid didn’t hide his annoyance as he walked over and opened the door. “I didn’t order anything.”

“I’ve got the ticket right here. Room 2333. Champagne for two.”

“Someone wishing you luck,” Jade said, “not that you’ll need it. Your talent speaks for itself.”

Quaid stepped aside as the young, uniformed hotel employee pushed in a table holding a bottle of chilled champagne.

The attendant lifted the bottle from the crystal bucket for them to examine. Jade recognized the label and knew from previous events at this hotel that the champagne sold for over five hundred dollars a bottle.

“Can you at least tell me who sent this,” Quaid asked the server, “so that I’ll know whom to thank?”

The young man looked at the ticket again. “The only information on here is that it’s for Mr. Quaid Vaquero at this room number. No charge to you. If you call room service, they may be able to tell you.”

“Yes, I’ll check with them later.”

“Shall I pop the cork and pour?” the server asked.

“You’re already here,” Quaid said, “so you may as well.”

Quaid turned back to Jade, took her hand with an unexpected familiarity and led her to the window that offered a magnificent view of the city. “I could have done without the interruption.”

“Yes, but you have a very generous friend,” Jade said. Odd timing, though, unless the person who had it delivered knew he was unveiling the necklace to her in his suite.

The cork popped loudly.

Quaid ignored it and slipped his arm around her waist. “I expected to hate New York, but I have loved every minute of my visit. I owe most of that to you.”

“You give me far too much credit. New York has a magic all its own. I was only sixteen when I first visited here with my mother. I knew then I was a big-city girl.”

“Can I get you anything else?” the server asked.

“That will be all.” Quaid turned back to him, pulled a money clip from his right front pocket and placed a tip on the cart. He waited until they were alone again before he handed Jade a flute of the sparkling bubbly.

“To successful ventures of business and of the heart,” he said, lifting his glass.

Jade clinked hers with his, though she was afraid to even guess what he meant by the last part of the toast.

Now that she thought about it, she wondered if he had ordered the champagne himself. This supposedly impromptu meeting was feeling more like an orchestrated seduction scene by the minute.

What was he looking for from her? A sexual hookup on his last night in the States? One-night stands were not her style.

But what if he offered more? A visit to his lavish Barcelona villa to get know her better? A few weeks on his yacht?

They’d almost finished their champagne before Quaid reached into the pocket of his tailor-made sport coat. He pulled out a small shiny red box tied with silver ribbon, the trademark wrapping for a custom-made Vaquero jeweled creation.

Surely he wasn’t planning to give her anything that pricey—unless he really was interested in pursuing a relationship. As tempting as it all sounded, she didn’t know that she was interested. She loved her life just as it was.

Quaid handed her the box.

She finished off her champagne, suddenly too nervous to even tug the ribbon loose from the package. Finally, she eased the silver bow from around the corners and lifted the lid. She stared, too overwhelmed to speak.

“Do you like them?”

“I love them. How could I not?” She gingerly lifted one of the earrings from its nest of black velvet. A dangling emerald shimmered with a thousand pinpoints of light.

“I don’t know what to say. They’re exquisite. I’ve never owned anything like this, but...”

“Say thank you,” Quaid suggested. “I designed and had them made especially for you.”

She was stunned. Emotionally touched. Light-headed.

“They’re absolutely exquisite, but I really can’t accept...” The emerald began to dance in front of her eyes. Her tongue grew thick, slurring her words.

She reached for the back of a chair to steady herself as the room began to spin. A second later her legs gave way and she crumpled to the floor.

“Jade, what’s wrong?”

She tried to answer but couldn’t form the words. Quaid lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed. As he laid her down, she felt his hands at her throat.

She closed her eyes and when she opened them, he was floating above her in an opaque mist as if he were being swallowed by the suffocating vapor.

He wasn’t alone. Reggie Lassiter was there, as well. Shadowy figures lurked in the background.

Loud voices. Reggie pointing a gun.

And then it all whirled away in a cloud as dark as midnight.

Chapter Two

R.J. Dalton stepped through the front door, sipped his coffee and stared out over his front lawn. It was getting harder and harder to recognize the place where he’d spent all his life. Almost eight decades.

His daughters-in-law, Hadley and Faith, had spent hours sprucing up the place. New flower beds bordered the freshly painted porch. A dozen or more blooming plants he couldn’t name were tucked in with the morning glories, zinnias, marigolds and petunias. Hanging pots overflowed with geraniums.

Colorful pillows and cushions not only brightened the porch swing and outdoor rockers but made them a lot more comfortable.

He appreciated the effort, but still more often than not, it was flashes of the past that gripped him when he settled in his favorite rocker. The memories ran roughshod through his mind, good and bad, hit and miss, the events in no coherent order.

His short-term memory was even less dependable. Countless times a day he walked from one room to another only to forget why or what he was looking for. Some of that he figured was just old age.

But the gaps in time, the shaky hands and the dizzy spells he chalked up to the inoperable tumor in his brain. The dang thing was growing again, according to his neurosurgeon.

Not that R.J. had any right to complain. The cancer should have killed him over a year ago. Hell, his lifestyle should have killed him long before he got to be an old man.

Boozing. Wild women. Aces up his sleeve. Bar fights. Not that he was proud of his past. It just was what it was and regret couldn’t change it. Wallowing in guilt wouldn’t change it, either, so he didn’t waste his time trying.

He planned to spend his remaining days enjoying the good life he was lucky enough to have now. Four sons—Adam, Leif, Travis and Cannon—all making their homes with their families right here on the Dry Gulch Ranch, though only Cannon and his wife and baby girl, Kimmie, lived in the big house with R.J.

Sons who had no reason to give a damn about R.J., yet they’d forgiven him his sorry parenting. Or at least they were making a stab at it and doing a bang-up job of not following in his footsteps.

R.J. walked over and dropped into the old wooden rocker. The floorboards creaked as he rocked, about the only sound around this morning. Not that he minded the quiet, especially since he knew it wouldn’t last for long.

One or the other of his sons, daughters-in-law or grandchildren were constantly stopping by to check on him. When they couldn’t, they made sure his housekeeper and friend, Mattie Mae, was around to see that he was taken care of.

Only, Mattie Mae was off at her granddaughter’s college graduation this week. Lucky her. It would take a miracle for R.J. to live long enough to see one of his grandchildren graduate from college.

The sound of a car’s engine interrupted R.J.’s reverie. He leaned forward, shielding his eyes from the sun’s glare with his wrinkled right hand as he tried to figure out who was coming down the ranch road.

A surge of warmth washed through him when he recognized the silver Mercedes. Feeling much sprier than he had minutes ago, he stood and walked to the edge of the porch to greet his favorite neighbor.

Carolina Lambert stepped out of the car and started up the walk to meet him. In her early fifties, she was still one of the best-looking women in the county. Rich, smart and a damn good cook, too.

“You’re mighty dressed up to be making neighborly house calls,” he said.

“I’m on my way to Dallas.”

“Got a date?”

“You know better than that. I have a meeting with some of the major donors for my for my Saddle-Up charity.”

“How’s that going?”

“It’s gaining speed. I’m hoping to enlist at least a dozen additional ranchers to join the program this year. It’s truly amazing what a month in the summer spent on a working ranch can do for troubled inner-city kids.”

R.J. smiled. “Always the do-gooder.”

“I’m blessed. It would be a travesty if I didn’t share.”

“So, what brings you to the Dry Gulch this morning? Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”

The smile disappeared from her lips. “Let’s sit,” she said, joining him on the porch.

He spied a brown envelope she was holding in her right hand. “If that’s bad news you’re bringing, I’m not sure I want it.” But he sat back down in his rocker as Carolina settled in the porch swing.

“Have you ever heard of a man named Quaid Vaquero?” she asked.

“No. Should I have?”

“He’s a well-known jewelry designer from Spain.”

“Last piece of jewelry I purchased was this here Timex.” He pushed up the sleeve of his cotton shirt to show her the watch. “Not likely I’d know some wealthy diamond peddler. What about him?”

“He was murdered last night in his New York hotel room.”

“That’s a tough way to go.”

“The young woman who was in charge of scheduling and planning his New York exhibitions has disappeared, along with jewelry valued at two hundred and twenty-five million dollars.”

“So she killed him, stole the jewels and went on the run. It’s about what you’d expect these days. Can’t trust those big-city people. So what does this have to do with me?”

“The name of the young woman who disappeared is Jade Dalton.”

His stomach knotted. “Not my Jade?”

“Take a look for yourself.” She opened the envelope, pulled some folded sheets of paper from it and handed them to him.

He glanced at the headline of the printed article:

Famed Jeweler Murdered in New York Hotel.

A picture of Quaid Vaquero and an article followed. Jade Dalton’s name jumped out at him.

“Where did you get this?”

“Off the internet,” Carolina said. “I was checking the national news while I drank my coffee. There’s a picture of Jade on the next page.”

R.J.’s throat dried up so fast he couldn’t swallow as he stared at the photo. It had been almost two years since his daughter showed up right here on the Dry Gulch Ranch for the reading of his will. He’d forgotten a lot of things. Jade wasn’t one of them.

His hands shook and he felt as if he was getting ready to lose his breakfast.

“It’s my Jade, all right.”

“I hated to tell you this, but I thought you’d want to know.”

“Damn straight I want to know.” He shook his head. “It’s just hard to get my mind around this. Jade—a murderer. If she killed him, she must have had a very good reason.”

“Two hundred million dollars plus is a lot of reasons,” Carolina reminded him.

“Nope. I’m not buying that Jade would kill for money. Not after she let me know in no uncertain terms she wasn’t interested in inheriting any of mine.”

“Your will had rigid stipulations,” Carolina said. “But the facts aren’t in. There’s no proof Jade had anything to do with the murder. She might be frightened and on the run or...” Carolina hesitated.

“Or in the hands of the real killer or worse,” R.J. finished the sentence for her.

“Do you know how to get in touch with Jade’s mother?” Carolina asked.

“Not a clue. Woman’s last name changes more often than Texas weather. But I figure Travis can find out what this is all about. It pays sometimes to have a son who’s a Dallas homicide detective.”

Sure as shootin’, Jade wouldn’t be calling R.J. or running to him for help.

So it was up to him to find her. He would, even if it meant hiring every private detective in New York. He just prayed it wouldn’t be too late.

Chapter Three

Booker Knox woke alone in a hotel bed that felt as if he’d landed on a fluffy cloud. After a year of back-to-back special missions as a Navy SEAL in the Middle East, he’d almost forgotten what a real bed felt like.

Still half-asleep and loving the feeling, he staggered to the bathroom in the nude, took a leak and then washed his face and hands. The man who stared back at him from the mirror looked years older than Booker felt and definitely needed a shave.

But that could wait until later, he decided, after he soaked up some more luxury in the good old US of A. He grabbed the room-service menu on his way back to bed. What he needed now was coffee, hot, black and strong.

He ordered a large pot of brew, steak, two eggs over easy and biscuits with gravy. “Double gravy,” he told the operator. “And grits if you have them.” He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had grits. Not that the California version would be like what his grandma used to make.

“A side of grits. Will there be anything else for you?”

“That should do it for now.”

“It should be in your room in about thirty minutes.”

“That will work.” Give him plenty of time to decide what he wanted to do with his first full day back in the States. First on the list was slip into a pair of clean jeans so that he didn’t flash the room-service attendant.

Now that he thought about it, tugging on his jeans might be the only thing he did today. He’d turn on the TV and catch some movies on the tube. Surely something worth watching had been released over the past year.

All he asked for was story lines with nothing to do with wars or death or blowing up buildings. Which left him with chick flicks. He could handle that if the starlets were hot.

Which would no doubt make him even hungrier for a real live woman. Good-looking. Fun-loving. Temporary.

In thirty days, he’d be back on the job and he wasn’t about to try to manage a relationship and his SEAL duties. A lot of men could, but it wasn’t for him.

He stood, walked over to the window, opened the curtains and looked out on the California coastline. A more gorgeous view would be hard to find. He might just spend his whole leave here. Generally he’d have taken a few days to slide back into normalcy and then gone to visit his parents.

But that was when home would have felt like home. It wouldn’t now that his mother had died. He and his father had never gotten along particularly well. Things would be even more strained between them without his mother’s warmth and enthusiasm for life to smooth the tension.

And now his sister Sylvie was dead, as well. Killed on the streets of Houston, Texas, when she’d been mistaken for her twin sister, Brit Garner Dalton.

The sister Booker had never heard of until she’d called him with the bad news. Talk about family skeletons shaking out of the closet. Who knew his mother had hidden such a scandalous past?

He had talked to Brit a few times since then. Short conversations since she was busy raising Sylvie’s baby girl, Kimmie. Brit seemed nice enough and she’d invited him more than once to visit her on the ranch that belonged to her new husband’s father.

Booker wasn’t much in the mood for taking on a new family, but he would like to meet his niece. He figured he kind of owed that to his mother and his dead half sister. Kimmie was seven months old now. He had no idea what a seven-month-old was like.

He hated to admit it, but the even bigger draw might be the Dry Gulch Ranch, just outside Dallas. Weather should be nice there in May. Perfect for climbing into a saddle. It was at least five years since he’d ridden. He’d missed it.

Missed his grandparents and the Oklahoma ranch that had been barely big enough to keep up a few head of cattle and a couple of horses. Booker had spent the best summers of his life on that ranch.

According to Brit, the Dry Gulch had over five hundred head of cattle grazing in the pastures and two horse barns.

Riding an open range on a spirited filly might be exactly the kind of R & R he needed. Besides, if he hated it there or found the whole experience of forging new family ties too awkward, all he had to do was ride off into the sunset like an old-time cowboy.

He should probably call first, let Brit know he was taking her up on her invitation. On the other hand, he might change his mind about visiting before he got there, so better just to surprise her. He’d call after breakfast and book a flight for tomorrow or the next day—if he could find one that didn’t cost more than his budget would stretch.

He picked up the remote, turned on the TV and then pulled on his jeans. He surfed until he landed on a cable news channel. A gorgeous blonde was smiling at him while she described a developing murder case—the victim a famous jewelry designer in the United States from Spain.

They flashed a picture of a woman they referred to as a person of interest. Wow. Talk about hot. The Spanish dude should have known to avoid her. A woman that sexy was always trouble.

Exactly the kind of woman he was not looking for and not likely to find on the Dry Gulch Ranch.

Jade Dalton. The same last name as Brit now that she’d married Kimmie’s daddy, Cannon. Could there possibly be a connection?

Naw. No way. There had to be thousands of Daltons in the country.

He went back to surfing channels and thinking about the Dry Gulch Ranch. The more he thought about it, the better it sounded.

Back in the saddle, wind in his face, a fishing pole in his hand. And not even a hint of danger in the air.

Chapter Four

Jade forced herself from the throes of the terrifying nightmare and opened her eyes. The room was shadowed. Unfamiliar. Cluttered. Pungent odors of stale cigarette smoke, beer and spicy food made her stomach roll.

The nightmare returned in full force. The vertigo. The loud voices. The gun. Needles poked into her arm.

For a second she thought she might be dead. But death didn’t include pain and she had a killer headache along with a punishing thirst and need to rinse a sickening metallic taste from her mouth.

Kicking off the dingy sheet, she shuddered as she slid her feet to the floor. Her feet were bare, but she was still wearing the red cocktail dress she’d worn last night. One strap was broken. Dried blood painted a weird-shaped stain down the front of it. Apparently the blood wasn’t hers, but it likely attributed to the disgusting odor.

She looked up as a door creaked open.

“Good. You’re awake. Maybe now you’ll start talking sense.”

She turned and stared into the face of Reggie Lassiter. Relief surged through her. If she was with Reggie, she must be safe.

She looked around the room again, recognizing nothing but sure she wasn’t in a hospital. “Where are we?”

“We’re outside the city, just before the falling-off place on the edge of nowhere.”

“Why? What happened?”

“You don’t remember?”

“Not much. I was in Quaid’s hotel suite. He was showing me the necklace that would highlight his showing. I got sick. The rest is confusing.”

“You must remember something.”

“There were voices, men I don’t know. And you. You were there. I remember that. You must know what happened.”

“From what I hear, that necklace must be a nice little bauble. It would make a sweet nest egg, or so I hear.”

The sarcasm scratched along her raw nerves. She studied Reggie. Unlike her, he was dressed neatly in jeans and a blue sport shirt, hair combed, freshly shaved. He looked like the competent police officer she’d worked with before, but he definitely didn’t sound like that man.

“What’s going on? Where’s Quaid,” she demanded.

Reggie smirked as if she’d made a bad joke. “Quaid is gone to a better place and I’m not talking about Barcelona.”

“Not dead. Tell me you don’t mean he’s dead.”

“Afraid so.”

“How? Who killed him?”

“Doesn’t really matter. You’re the one you should be worried about now.”

“What do you mean?”

“Because if you don’t tell me where you and Quaid hid that necklace in the next five minutes, you’ll be joining your phony Spanish jewelry god.”

Impulsively, her hand flew to her neck. It was bare, as she should have known it would be. “You think I took the necklace?”

“I know you didn’t take it. You left with me, sweetheart. The necklace is not on your body and it wasn’t on Quaid’s. But it was around your pretty little neck before I arrived on the scene.”

“Were you spying on Quaid? Was his suite bugged?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Then how do you know I tried on the necklace?”

“You were wearing it when room service delivered Quaid’s champagne.”

The costly necklace was missing and Reggie had brought her here to search and intimidate her as if she were a common criminal. “Is this how the police work now? Threats? Intimidation? False accusations?”

“Not threats, Jade. Promises. The clock is ticking. Unless you want to pay your lover Quaid a surprise visit, you’d best start talking.”

Reality finally seeped through the brain fog. Whatever had happened last night, Reggie was in on it, possibly the mastermind, though there had been others.

“A dirty cop. You disappoint me, Reggie. I expected so much more of you.”

“No, like you, I’m just after what I can get in the world, only I don’t have your looks to sleep my way into wealth.”

Ire rose in her throat. She struggled to keep control. This was no time to go off half-cocked. She had a lot more to worry about now than defending her morals.

“The last I remember, the necklace was still around my neck. If anyone took it, it had to be you or one of your partners in crime.”

“Wrong answer.”

Jade stared into Reggie’s eyes and shuddered at the icy threat she saw reflected in them. The lines of his face were drawn into sharp angles. His muscles clenched.

He pulled a pistol from his shoulder holster and pointed it at her head. “Either the necklace or a bullet, Jade. Now.”

Her blood ran cold. He was not merely threatening. He meant to kill her if she didn’t tell him how or where to find the missing jewelry. A location she couldn’t possibly reveal since she had no idea where it was.

There had to be a way out of this. She just had to find it. Quick. She put her fingers to her temples. “I can’t think clearly. It’s all the drugs you pumped into me. I need time for my mind to clear.”

“Then I guess you’d better get used to your surroundings. I can’t sit around and make chitchat all day. I have to get back on the job.”

“Playing the role of good cop?”

“Yeah. All those years of bit roles in bad TV shows before joining the force are finally paying off. The chief gave me a new assignment this morning—to find the sexy event planner who killed Quaid Vaquero and disappeared with his multimillion-dollar masterpiece.”

So Reggie had not only killed Quaid but found a way to blame it on her. And once he got his hands on the necklace he’d kill her, too. He was way too smart to leave any loose ends to foul up his scheme.

Even if she convinced him she didn’t know the whereabouts of the necklace, he’d kill her.

“If you know I was wearing the necklace, the champagne delivery must have been part of your scheme,” she said, buying time.

“Absolutely. A nice touch, don’t you think? A little Rohypnol for you and Quaid to make our encounter so much more pleasant for everyone. Also convenient that you were so enthralled with Quaid that you didn’t notice the drug being slipped into your newly uncorked bottle of bubbly.”

“You cops do think of everything.”

Which would make outsmarting him difficult. She looked around the room again, this time searching for anything she could use as a weapon or an escape route.

There was only one door, the one Reggie had entered through and closed behind him so that she couldn’t see past this one room. The two small windows on the other side of the bed were shuttered, no doubt nailed shut from the outside.

The clutter in the room consisted of piles of old magazines and newspapers, stacks of cardboard boxes that had been secured with heavy tape, several fishing rods, an empty cigarette pack and an open box of shotgun shells. No sign of a shotgun.

Her black evening handbag was on a marred pine table, its few contents scattered around it, including her wallet. Her stilettos were on the floor. Used just right, they could put an eye out, though she couldn’t imagine them being a match for Reggie’s ready pistol.

Inches of dust had accumulated on everything. Brown stains spread over the ceiling where water had leaked through.

“Where are we?” Jade asked.

“My late father’s fishing camp. It was about all he left me and my brother.”

“In New York?”

“Yes, but miles from the city. Feel free to scream for help. No one will hear you.”

“I suppose your brother, Mack, is in on this, too.”

“Nope. Mack is a stickler for rules. Doesn’t even get parking tickets. Always was Dad’s favorite. Still is Mom’s.”

“I wonder why.”

Mack Lassiter owned and operated the security company that Ruth Stevens, Jade’s boss at Effacy Corporate Event Planning, always insisted they use. At least it was nice to know Mack was honest, even if his moonlighting brother was evil to the core.

Mack would surely know about the fishing cabin. Only there was no reason he’d come looking for her, no reason for him to suspect his cop brother was involved in Quaid’s murder or in her disappearance.

For all Jade knew, the other men in the hotel room last night were also cops, possibly even working the security detail with Reggie.

If she managed to escape, did she dare call the police for protection or would that just guarantee that Reggie would be the first to reach her?

“What am I supposed to do for a bathroom?” she asked.

“There’s an outhouse. You’ll have to watch for spiders, rats and yellow jackets. They’ve pretty much taken over the place. And be on the lookout for roaches inside the pages of the old catalog that serves as tissue.”

Her stomach retched. Still she straightened her dress as best she could, wishing she’d worn something that buttoned to the neck—not that she owned any dresses like that.

“Bring it on,” she said, going for fake bravado. She could do without the outhouse, but she did need to see what was outside this room and to search for an escape route.

“Actually, we have indoor plumbing these days,” Reggie admitted. “But I don’t advise drinking or even washing your mouth out with it. Pipes are rusted.”

He walked over to the door and opened it, then motioned for her to lead the way. “Almost forgot,” he taunted, just as she reached the door. “I have a bracelet for you, though not nearly as becoming as the earrings your Spanish lover gave you.”

So he knew about not only the necklace but the earrings as well, information she hadn’t had until minutes before the champagne arrived.

Reggie obviously had an accomplice on the inside. But who? The only employee Quaid had brought to the States was Javier Aranda, a longtime friend who had come two weeks before Quaid’s arrival to check out the hotel where Quaid had reservations and to meet with Ruth and Jade. Javier had left to fly back to Barcelona a few days after Quaid’s arrival.

Reggie slipped the handcuffs around her wrist and locked them. “That way,” he said, shoving her past him.

The bathroom was down a short, narrow hallway. Just past that she glimpsed a large square room with a range, a refrigerator and a dinette set, all old and worn enough that they’d feel at home in the Smithsonian.

Reggie shoved her again, this time into the bathroom. “The door stays open a crack,” he said. He took out his gun and waved it around threateningly before stepping away and leaving her alone.

He wasn’t taking any chances with her escaping, but he wasn’t going to shoot her, not as long as he thought she knew the location of the costly necklace. That was the one thing in her favor.

Inhibited by the cuffs, she struggled to get her panties down and take care of business. As she pulled them up again, Reggie’s words came back to haunt her. He’d searched her for the necklace, and that obviously involved more than just patting her down.

There was no mirror, so she pulled up her dress and examined her body as best she could. No bruises around her thighs, breasts or abdomen, though there was a nasty one on her left arm. No bite marks around her nipples. No pain inside her that would indicate rape.

Thankfully, Reggie was apparently too obsessed with finding the necklace to concern himself with anything else. As bad as things were, they could have been worse. She’d hold on to that and take it as a good omen.

A quick look around the bathroom revealed nothing but soap, a damp hand towel on a hook and a dead cockroach.

No blades. No scissors. No bottles or mirrors she could break into a shard of jagged glass. She lingered at the stained sink, letting the lukewarm water splash over her hands as she soaped them repeatedly. Slowly a plan began to form in her mind. Risky, but it beat certain death by a mile.

She shook her hands to dry them rather than use the dirty towel. Fear gnawed at her stomach like claws, but she refused to give in to it. She clenched her teeth and forced a steady breath as she prepared to face Reggie with her lies.

He kicked open the bathroom door, sending it slamming against the bathroom wall. “You’ve stalled long enough, Jade.” He peppered the demand with a stream of four-letter words.

Reggie handed her a bottle of water as she stepped out of the bathroom. She took it before he changed his mind. She drank half the bottle before he shoved her back toward the room that had become her prison.

Once inside, he kicked the door shut again.

“Where’s the necklace, Jade?”

She sighed as if she’d lost the battle of wits. “How about a deal?”

“You don’t have a bargaining tool.”

“If you kill me without a deal, you have no necklace. And I can assure you that you won’t find it on your own.”

“What’s the deal?” he asked.

“I’ll go back to the hotel with you and show you where to find the necklace. We sell it on the black market as a team and I get half the profits.”

He smirked as he pretended to be considering her offer. He’d agree, of course. Nothing to lose since even if she gave him the necklace, he’d kill her—unless she found a way to escape first. Her life literally depended on that.

“Once I have the necklace in hand, then we talk money. But you don’t go with me. You’re a killer on the run, remember? You tell me where to find the necklace. If it’s not where you say it is, I kill you. Couldn’t be much simpler than that.”

“I go with you or no deal,” she countered.

“How big a fool do you think I am? If someone spots us at that hotel together, we’ll both be arrested.”

“If you want the necklace, you do it my way.” Her chances for escape would be much better in the city. “Get me the appropriate clothes and shoes and a wig. I’ll go in disguise. If someone from the hotel sees me, they’ll assume I’m a fellow detective.”

“Do you really think I’d trust you to go back to the scene of the crime and not alert someone what was going on?”

“You will if you want the necklace that you’ve already killed for. Fifty-fifty, partner.”

Reggie clenched his fist and looked as if he might be about to plant it in her face. Instead, he spit out a stream of curses.

“A dark-colored wig and not the cheapest one you can find,” Jade specified. “They scream fake. Pants and shirt, size six. Shoes, size seven. Something comfortable.” That she could run in. “And a toothbrush and toothpaste so that my foul-smelling breath doesn’t stink up the lobby.”

“You won’t be in the lobby.”

But he didn’t say she wouldn’t be going to the hotel. This could work.

“I’ll think about it,” he said. “But if you double-cross me...” He pulled his gun again and let it do the rest of his talking for him.

She didn’t need the reminder. She’d come up with a plan to buy time and perhaps get back into the city. Now she needed a plan to stay alive.

“I’ll be back soon,” Reggie said. “In the meantime, think about your poor dead Spanish lover and know if you make one wrong move, you’ll be joining him at the morgue.”

“Quaid wasn’t my lover.”

“Why not? Weren’t you good enough for him?”

Reggie opened the bedroom door, then looked back at her with a stupid smirk on his face. “Oops, almost forgot. I shouldn’t leave you locked up this way.” He took out a key, loosened the cuff on her left wrist and then dragged her back to the bed.

This time the bastard fastened one link around the iron headboard before relocking the cuffs.

He laughed as he swaggered to the door. “Enjoy yourself, darling. I’ll be back in an hour or two.”

* * *

FURY ERUPTED AND Jade stamped her foot so hard the old floorboards groaned. Enough energy wasted on useless rage, she decided quickly. Handcuffs and heavy iron bedstead notwithstanding, she was alone for an extended period of time. This might be her best—or only— opportunity to come out of this alive.

If something happened to Reggie while he was gone, and she couldn’t unlock the handcuffs, she could die of thirst out here or be bitten by spiders or stinging scorpions. Who knew what crept around this place?

She forced the creepy thoughts aside. She had to think rationally.

Fortunately, she was not totally without skills. Ex-stepfather number four had been a Los Angeles Special Crimes Unit detective. He’d taught her a thing or two about self-defense and handcuffs.

Most handcuffs could be unlocked without a key. At least that was true a few years back. He’d shown her how one night when they were watching Law and Order together. He’d loved crime shows. Watching them let him point out all the inconsistencies between TV investigations and real ones.

He’d used a hairpin, but something else might work. If she could get close enough to reach the table where the contents of her sequined handbag had been dumped, she might find a suitable substitute.

She tugged hard. The bed didn’t budge. She needed something to provide some leverage. She pushed her right foot hard against the wall and tugged again. This time the bed frame scooted at least an inch.

That was a start, but she’d have to move it at least three feet to reach the table. She tugged again. More movement.

After what seemed an eternity of working to the accompaniment of thunder rumbling ominously in the background, she stopped to catch her breath and give her aching back a rest.

When she dropped to the bed, she glimpsed the tip of what looked like a knife blade. She jumped off the bed and got down onto the dirty floor on her hands and knees for a better look.

Sure enough, there was some kind of knife under the bed. Not a kitchen knife but the kind used in hunting or fishing. Ex-stepfather number two had done both.

She went back to tugging on the bed. A few more inches and she was able to reach the knife.

Heart pounding, she picked it up and examined it. The blade was rusted and dust bunnies had cuddled up to it and the handle. Still, it might work.

She dropped back to the bed and tried to remember exactly how number four had taught her to pick the lock. Holding the edge of the faded sheet, she managed to swipe the point of the blade across it.

She had to work with her hands at a weird angle as she poked at the keyhole with the knife. The attempt was useless. The blade was too wide and thick to fit into the hole.

She needed something with a much smaller tip yet strong enough to push down on the part of the lock that made contact with the thingamajig.

Exasperated but no less determined, she laid the knife on the bed and went back to tugging the heavy bed frame across the wooden floor. When she finally reached the table and examined the scattered contents of her handbag, her frustration swelled. She saw absolutely nothing that might work.

Unwilling to give up, she reached into the sequined clutch and ran her fingers along the inside of the thin interior pocket and the folds in the lining at the bottom of the bag. The thumb of her left hand slid along what felt like a paper clip.

Tears wet her eyes and she pulled it out. This had to work. She had to make it work.

Jade had done this years ago with a hairpin. If she could do it then, she could surely do it now that her life was riding on success. She opened the clip as she’d been shown, bending it into an L-shape.

Once in place, she turned gently. Nothing moved except the paper clip.

She tried again, just the way number four had shown her, push and turn. This time her fingers slipped from the paper clip and it fell to the floor and bounced under the table.

Her nerves were frayed to the point of breaking. But she couldn’t give up.

Down on her knees again, she spotted and retrieved the paper clip. This time she sat down on the bed and tried to calm her anxiety to the point her hands weren’t trembling.

Nice and easy. Fit the end of the paper clip into the lock and firmly turn.

She squealed when the handcuffs clicked open. No worry. No one was around to hear.

Free from bondage. Jade’s spirits rebounded, reviving her energy and her brain. She raked the items into her open handbag, picked up her shoes by the narrow straps and rushed to the door.

It was locked tight.

The bastard.

Grim determination took hold. She’d get out of here if she had to dig the door lock off with the dull knife. And then she’d probably find that he’d fit some kind of brace across the door to make sure she couldn’t open it.

Think positive. Pray.

She did both as she went back for the paper clip. She looped the handbag’s wristband and the shoes straps around the doorknob to free her hands as she worked on the lock.

A huge clap of thunder rattled the windows. A few seconds later, the lights went out, leaving the room in pitch-darkness. Even the weather was contriving against her. If she dropped the paper clip now, she might never find it.

The next clap of thunder sounded as if it was going to tear the house apart.

Jade took a deep breath. She had to do this. She had to get out of here. Using her fingers as a guide, she worked to fit the clip back into the lock. Her grip was tight and sure as she turned it in the lock.

Another clap of thunder.

No.

This time it wasn’t thunder. It was the slamming of a car door. Reggie was back. He’d be furious when he discovered she’d gotten out of the handcuffs. But not nearly as violent as he’d become when they reached the hotel and she couldn’t produce the necklace.

Panic rushed through her in waves. Maybe someone else had found the necklace. Maybe he was back merely to kill her and there would be no other chance for escape.

The paper clip slipped from her fingers. She rushed back to the bed and grabbed the knife. She had to try something. She wasn’t ready to die.

Stepping behind the door, she held the rusty-bladed knife over her head, poised to strike the second Reggie opened the door and stepped into the room.

One chance. One split-second chance to plunge the knife into the dirty cop’s back and hope it at least slowed him down enough she could make a run for freedom.

The doorknob turned and someone stepped inside, letting in light from the hallway. Life or death. This was it.

Without being able to see a face, Jade struck, pushing the knife through clothes, skin and muscle with all the strength she could muster.

“You bitch.” Reggie screamed a stream of vile curses.

She’d hit her mark, put the knife right between the shoulder blades, but not nearly as deep as she’d been going for.

Reggie didn’t fall, but staggered a few steps and then grabbed on to the bedpost. Blood from the wound wet the back of his shirt and dripped down his trousers.

Jade didn’t dare go for his car keys. With only her instincts for survival to rely on, she yanked her purse from the doorknob and took off running. She tripped over an open duffel that had been left on the floor between the kitchen table and a filthy orange sofa. Somehow she managed to stay upright.

By the time she reached the front door, she could hear Reggie’s footsteps behind her, slower than normal but still coming.

She yanked open the front door. The rain was pouring from an almost black sky. But there on a table right near the door was a large shopping bag and a dingy gray raincoat, dripping wet but with Reggie’s keys dangling from the pocket.

She grabbed the bag and the keys without stopping. Now, if his car would only start and not crank uselessly the way it always happened in horror movies.

She looked back as she climbed into the car. Reggie was still coming, his gait like a drunken Frankenstein’s, his eyes glazed like a madman’s.

She slipped the keys into the ignition and the beautiful hum of an engine met her ears. She drove away in the storm, having no idea where she’d go.

She had to think this through, had to go somewhere she could slow down and regroup. Somewhere far away from New York where the media was surely playing up the story of Quaid’s murder and splashing her picture all over newspapers and TV.

She needed to head for the last place anyone would expect her to show up.

Only one possibility came to mind.

A place with cows and mosquitoes, wasps and skunks—the four-legged kind. And rattlesnakes and big, hairy spiders. Her mother had told her about those.

The Dry Gulch Ranch, home of R.J. Dalton—her dear old dad.

He’d never been much of a father before. This would be his chance to shine.

Chapter Five

Two days and a lifetime of fear and anxiety later, Jade stepped off a plane at the Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport. She’d boarded the flight with trepidation, sure any second someone would recognize her in spite of her horrid wig and fake ID.

Even after she’d taken her seat and the plane had lifted into the air, she’d worried that somehow Reggie had tracked her and would be waiting when she approached the gate. After all, he had all the power and authority of the NYPD behind him.

She’d come close to calling the police herself, but whenever she did, she remembered the look on Reggie’s face when he’d come after her, a trail of blood behind him.

Dread all but paralyzed her and she stopped halfway through the Jetway. People pulling luggage and shouldering bulky backpacks jostled her as they maneuvered past. She didn’t move until the passengers had all exited and the flight attendants were walking toward her.

Finally she started walking again. Relief surged through her as she stepped into the gate area. No one was waiting for her. No one even gave her a second look. She checked the signs and started in the direction of baggage claim and ground transportation.

When she’d flown to Dallas almost two years ago, she rented a car and drove to the Dry Gulch Ranch. This time she was out of cash. The plane ticket had taken the last of the money in her wallet and she didn’t dare use the ATM for fear Reggie was having it monitored.

She could probably take a taxi and let R.J. pay once she reached the Dry Gulch. Or she could risk hitchhiking as she’d done from New York to Atlanta, catching rides with truckers from one town and truck stop to the next.

But it was already after 7:00 p.m. and she was stressed to the breaking point. Climbing in another 18-wheeler with a stranger would surely push her over the edge. All she wanted was a safe place to close her eyes and sleep.

Following a stream of passengers, she crowded onto the escalator, her only luggage the shopping bag that held her strappy heels a toothbrush and toothpaste.

She was wearing the hideous black wig, a pair of black-rimmed glasses, the shoes and the shirt and jeans she’d found in Reggie’s shopping bag.

The bloody dress was in a restroom at a truck stop back in Philly.

Once off the escalator, she started walking toward the taxi stop, still with no clear plan in mind. She spotted two men loitering next to that exit, both staring at her. Panic hit so swiftly she grew dizzy.

Struggling to calm herself with empty reassurances, she willed her feet to start walking in the opposite direction. Without slowing, she glanced over her shoulder. The men were only a few feet behind her and closing the space between them.

“Hey, lady,” one of them called, waving to her.

She picked up her pace, practically running through the crowded airport. She turned a corner and ran smack into a man pulling a carry-on bag. He grabbed her arm to steady her.

She threw her arms around the man’s neck and greeted him like a lover who’d just come home from a long war.

* * *

BOOKER STOOD THERE, too stunned to react to the stranger’s kiss—for a half second. He figured the stranger had mistaken him for someone else, but that wasn’t his fault. He threw himself into the kiss.

“I think you may have the wrong man, but I’m not complaining,” he said when her lips left his.

“Play along with me,” she said. “Act like we’re together. I’ll explain later.”

“Works for me.” What didn’t work was the fear reflected in her gorgeous green eyes or the nervous way she kept glancing over her shoulder.

“I’m at your service. Is there someone here you need punched in the nose?”

“No. Start walking,” she said, taking his arm.

“Where are we going?”

“To the taxi stand.”

“How about we just walk over to the Avis counter? I have a car reserved. I’ll drop you wherever you want to go.”

“A ride would be great.” She glanced over her shoulder again.

“Who is it you’re trying to avoid?”

“No one.”

“You’re putting a lot of effort into this to avoid no one.”

“I thought I saw my ex, but I was mistaken.” She stopped walking and looked behind her, then let go of his arm. “You can go ahead with your plans. I’ll be fine now.”

She didn’t sound fine. It didn’t take a brain surgeon to see that she was in trouble and running scared. Even if she hadn’t been a fantastic kisser, he couldn’t have walked away from that.

“Kiss and run is far worse than kiss and tell,” he teased. “You should at least let me thank you for the spectacular welcome by giving you a ride.”

“I’m going to Oak Grove. It’s over an hour’s drive from here.”

“I’ve got nothing better to do.” Not to mention that he was heading in that direction, anyway. “Do you have a name?”

Again, she hesitated way too long to be telling the truth. “Pam.”

“Nice name.” Just not hers, he’d wager.

“Mine’s Booker Knox.”

“Nice to meet you, Booker.”

She stopped glancing over her shoulder as they made the short trek to the rental desk, but she didn’t volunteer any additional information, either. Quiet. Mysterious. She had his curiosity aroused big-time.

Actually that kiss had aroused more than his curiosity.

Fifteen minutes later, they were in the rental and on the interstate. “Are you going to visit family?” he asked.

“Yes, but they live off the beaten path. There’s a service station on the highway near Oak Grove. You can drop me off there. They’ll come and pick me up.”

“Are they expecting you?”

“Of course. They think I’m taking a taxi, but they’ll be waiting for my call. What about you? Where are you going?”

“To a friend’s ranch. My first time there, but from what I hear, it’s a big spread with a rambling old house. I’m sure they can fit you in if you need a place to stay tonight.”

“No, thanks.”

“Are you from Oak Grove?” he asked.

“No.”

“But you have family there.”

“Yes.”

“What’s their name? I bet my friends know them. I hear it’s a really small town.”

“Smith.”

Probably lying again. But why, unless she was worried about him being a pervert? “Am I making you uneasy?”

“A little. I don’t normally accept rides from strangers.”

Yet she’d kissed one in the airport. “Look, Pam, I can assure you I’m trustworthy. I’m a Navy SEAL on leave and in Oak Grove to visit my half sister. You can call her and she’ll vouch for me.”

She shook her head and pushed her ill-fitting glasses back up her nose. “That’s not necessary.”

But she was anxious about something, likely the same situation that had prompted the kiss. Possibly the ex-boyfriend she’d mentioned. Possibly not.

Traffic on the interstate was heavy. He figured the trip was going to take at least an hour and a half, and his stomach was already complaining that it was past dinnertime.

He took the next exit.

Pam, or whatever her name was, turned to face him. “Where are we going?”

“The freeway sign listed several fast-food choices at this exit. I’m starved. You must be, too, if you just got off a plane. A bag of peanuts and a sip or two of soda isn’t very filling.”

“I could use a bite.”

“What’s your choice?” he asked as they pulled off the frontage road and were confronted with a buffet of choices. “Burgers, tacos, fried chicken, barbecue?”

“You pick.”

“It all looks good to me. There was a severe shortage of artery-clogging fast-food joints in the mountainous wilds of Afghanistan.” He pulled into a familiar chain where he knew the burgers were good and the strawberry shakes even better.

He parked and they went inside. “Nothing like the smell of a burger on the grill.” He ordered two half pounders, fries and a large shake. She ordered a salad.

“Kind of defeats the purpose of going to a greasy-food joint if you eat healthy,” he said, hoping a little teasing would help her loosen up enough to talk about what was really going on with her.

“I need to go wash up,” she said.

Booker watched her walk away. Great butt in a pair of well-fitting jeans, but nothing about her quite rang true. Big-rimmed glasses that kept sliding down her nose as if they belonged to a big brother. The ugly black hair was a wig, a cheap one at that. The jeans were new. So was the T-shirt, as evidenced by the price tag hanging out the back of the neckline. New and several sizes too big.

His guess would be that she was running scared from something or someone.

On the run. Damn. What was he thinking?

Booker rushed to the door, almost knocking down a middle-aged woman who was entering as he was leaving. Just as he expected, Miss Mysterious had left through the back door and was already hightailing it down the road.

He jumped in the rental sedan and gunned the engine, sliding into rescue mode with only a minuscule of concern for the fact that he rescuing a woman who didn’t want to be rescued.

He pulled the car to a stop on the shoulder a few feet in front of her. “Get in the car,” he ordered.

She kept walking. Booker threw the gear into Park and jumped out of the rental. He walked over, grabbed her arm and tugged her to a stop.

“I don’t take kindly to being stood up for dinner.”

She met his gaze, her voice low but her eyes shooting fire. “Take your hands off me.”

He did. That settled one thing. She wasn’t running from an abusive lover. If that look was any indication, she’d have made mincemeat of a man who’d gotten out of line with her.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Let’s start over. My hunch is you’re in some kind of trouble, and my hunches are incredibly accurate. I’d like to help if I can or at least drop you off wherever it is you’re heading. I don’t like the idea of dropping you at a service station.”

“Why?”

“Standing on the side of a road is dangerous.”

“I mean, why are you so insistent on putting yourself out for me?”

“You’re a good kisser.”

“I’m serious, Booker. What’s in this for you?”

“I’m the hero type.”

She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Okay. I don’t need any help, but you can drive me to my friend’s ranch—under two conditions.”

“Shoot.”

“No more questions. And once you drop me off, forget you ever saw me.”

“If you wanted me to forget you, you should have started with a handshake instead of a kiss, but I’ll give it my best shot.”

“Then let’s go back and pick up our food order. I really am starved.”

“Finally, we agree on something.” He went through the drive-through and picked up their food after the hassle of explaining to the woman at the window why he’d changed his mind and now wanted his food to go.

He ate as he drove, spilling loose lettuce and a paper-thin slice of overripe tomato down his shirt. He kept his promise not to ask questions until they were about thirty minutes out of the city and traffic was finally moving smoothly.

“So, does this ranch we’re going to have a name?”

“The Dry Gulch. Now, doesn’t that sound inviting?”

He hadn’t been ready for that shocker, but suddenly the facts came together. The woman sitting next to him was wearing a wig and what she was running from was the law.

He was now harboring a fugitive from justice, a fugitive whose crime had the entire country and half of Europe up in arms.

But damn, could Jade Dalton kiss!

* * *

JADE FELT THE tension grow with each mile they got closer to the Dry Gulch Ranch. Her problems were far from over. The NYPD surely had a warrant out for her arrest by now. She could possibly put off facing them for another day, but facing R.J. and the rest of the Daltons was imminent.

It was difficult to imagine that any of the Daltons would be glad to see her and the pack of trouble she brought with her. They might even call the local sheriff and have her arrested tonight.

It was a chance she had to take.

“I’ll get the gate,” she said when Booker stopped at the entrance to the ranch.

She breathed deeply, filling her lungs with the fresh country air. The smells were different here. So were the sounds. Wind whispering through the branches high atop the towering pines. Loud chirping from crickets or perhaps the tiny tree frogs she’d heard about on her last trip to the ranch.

The croak of a bullfrog. The lonesome hoot of an owl. A rustle in the nearby grass that sent her rushing back to the car the second she’d closed the gate behind them.

“Nice spread,” Booker said as they drove past acres of fenced pastureland, “at least what I see of it in the moonlight.”

“If you like living on the outskirts of civilization.”

“I take it you don’t.”

“I’m a big-city girl. The bigger the better.”

“Where do you live?”

“There you go with the questions again.”

“Sorry about that.”

Fortunately, he drove the rest of the way in silence, throwing on the brakes once to avoid hitting a deer that dashed across the road just a few yards in front of them.

The rambling ranch house sneaked up on them, the lights from the windows peeking at them from between tree branches as they rounded a curve in the ranch road.

“Looks like they left the lights on for you,” Booker said.

“I’m surprised they’re not all in bed by now.”

“It’s only eight-thirty.”

“But what else is there to do out here when the sun goes down.”

“Watch TV. Read a book. Chat on Facebook. I’ve heard some people even engage in conversation if they’re really desperate.”

Booker pulled into the wide driveway and for a second, Jade thought they were at the wrong house. It looked better cared for than she remembered it. Of course, that might be because she was seeing the place in the cover of darkness instead of the bright glare of daylight.

“I can take it from here,” she said as Booker killed the engine.

“I always walk my dates to the door.”

“We’re not on a date.” He’d be peeling out and squealing tires in his rush to get away if he knew the truth about her.

“Thanks for the ride,” she said. “Enjoy your leave.”

“I have a hunch it won’t be boring.”

Ignoring her assurance that she no longer needed him, he got out of the car and followed her up the walk.

An attractive blonde opened the door before they reached it. “Finally we meet,” she said. “I’m Brit and you must be Booker.”

“In the flesh.” Booker put out a hand, but the woman pulled him into a hug, totally ignoring Jade.

Apprehension skidded along her nerve endings. Had she been set up? Had Booker been looking for her at the airport when she ran into him and saved him the trouble?

No wonder he chased after her when she sneaked off from the burger joint.

Booker stood back and studied the woman who’d just embraced him so warmly. “Excuse me, but this is going to take a minute for me to get past. You look exactly like Sylvie.”

“I thought I’d prepared you for that,” she said, “but I guess nothing really could.”

“No. I’ll get used to it, but it’s a shocker now.”

Jade stood there, flabbergasted. She had no idea what was going on, but apparently Booker’s coming here had nothing to do with her.

“You must be a friend of Booker’s,” Brit said, directing her comment to Jade.

A friend of Booker’s. That was an intriguing mistake. If she could pull that off, it would definitely simplify matters. It would give Jade a chance to think things through tonight before confronting the Daltons.

“Yes, Booker and I are—”

Her sentence was interrupted by the sound of approaching footfalls. She looked up as R.J. shuffled to the door. The lie died on her lips.

He looked years older than he had the last time she’d seen him. Frailer, his stance less intimidating, his hair gray wisps that barely covered his head. The inoperable tumor hadn’t killed him yet, but it was apparently taking its toll.

He stared at her, his mouth open, his eyes wide.

“Jade.” His voice broke on her name.

So much for her disguise. If R.J. could recognize her that easily, she’d fool no one who was actually looking for her. It was a miracle she’d made it to Dallas without being arrested.

“Thank God you’re here,” R.J. said. “I’ve been worried sick. I was about to hire a team of private detectives to track you down.”

Coming here had clearly been a mistake. “I didn’t kill anyone.”

“I know that. I told everyone that as soon as we heard. I just wanted to find you and make sure you were safe.”

“I was kidnapped. When I escaped, I didn’t know anything else to do but come here. But I won’t stay more than one night. I’ll leave tomorrow morning, before I cause you any trouble.”

“Of course you’ll stay. Where else would you go? You’re family.”

“But you will have to turn yourself in to the local sheriff,” Brit said. “And you’ll need a lawyer.”

“We’ve got the best danged attorney in the state of Texas right here on the ranch,” R.J. interrupted. “Your half brother Leif. We’ll call him right now. He’ll know exactly how to handle this.”

“He may not want to represent me.”

“He’s obliged. We Daltons stick together. His brother Travis will advise you, too. He’s a Dallas homicide detective, and Brit here was a detective in Houston before she and Cannon got hitched. Everything you need is right here.”

A lawyer and two homicide detectives. Jade would probably be in jail by morning.

“C’mon in,” R.J. said. “You and your friend, afore the skeeters start snacking on you.”

“This is Booker Knox,” Brit said, introducing him to R.J. before things got any more confusing.

“Well, I’ll be jiggered! You and Jade knowing each other. Don’t that beat all?”

“Pretty surprising, isn’t it?” Booker said, going along with everything.

“You two need something to eat? I can rustle up some leftovers.”

“We had dinner in town,” Jade said. “And Booker and I don’t actually know each other,” she added, determined to clear up that minor detail before they got bogged down even further in chaotic confusion. “We ran into each other in the car rental line at the airport and realized we were both coming to the same place.” The partial truth would do.

“Well, that was damn lucky,” R.J. said. “If your belly’s full, how about a beer or a glass of wine while you two relax a bit? After that, Jade can bring Brit and me up to snuff on what really happened in that New York hotel suite.”

“I could use a few minutes to freshen up,” Jade said. And to pull off the useless wig that was starting to feel like a wad of wet wool on her head before she faced the family firing squad. She couldn’t imagine they’d all be as accommodating as R.J.

“Why don’t I show you to the guest rooms,” Brit offered. “Do you have luggage?”

“Afraid not,” Jade said.

“I can lend you a clean T-shirt to sleep in,” Booker said. “I’ll get my bag out of the car.”

“I’ll put you in the room I prepared for Booker,” Brit said as Booker left to go back to the car. “It has a private bath already stocked with the essentials like soap, shampoo, conditioner, lotions, toothpaste, razors, even extra toothbrushes in the top drawer if you need one.”

“I appreciate that.” Hopefully that meant they didn’t intend to call the local sheriff out for an immediate arrest.

“We’re about the same size,” Brit said. “I’m sure I have a nightshirt and some jeans and shirts you can wear until you have time to shop. I’ll gather up a few items while you get yourself together.”

“Thanks. I’m sorry I came crashing in on R.J. and the rest of you like this. I panicked. That’s the only excuse for going on the run the way I did.”

“Don’t apologize for coming here,” Brit said. “R.J. was right. We’re family. That’s where you go when you’re in trouble.”

A nice concept, but it hadn’t been Jade’s experience. But she definitely needed to get in touch with her mother and let her know she was safe. Kiki would have heard the media’s version of what had happened and she’d be bordering on hysteria about now. And no doubt full of advice as to how Jade should be handling this.

“R.J.’s been a wreck ever since we first heard about Quaid Vaquero’s murder. He was afraid that you’d been murdered as well, and the police weren’t releasing that information.”

“I came close,” Jade said, not expecting Brit to believe her.

“Whatever happened, you’re safe now,” Brit said. “So let’s get you settled in. The only available guest rooms are upstairs. Cannon, Kimmie and I pretty much took over the first floor when we moved in. Someone needs to be close by, now that R.J.’s health is failing so fast.”

Once Jade was alone in the guest room, her strained willpower caved like a sand castle in the rain. She dropped to the bed as the events of the past two days stormed her mind. The handcuffs. The iron bed. The pitch-black prison when the power had gone out.

Reggie, bloody, the eyes of a madman, chasing her as she fled from his brutal captivity.

It seemed unreal, a nightmare. But those were the truths she had to share with these strangers who posed as family.

Once she did, would they believe that she had no part in Quaid’s murder and no idea what had happened to the necklace that had started this roller-coaster ride of terror?

Would anyone?

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.