From the Heart: Romance, Mystery and Suspense a collection for everyone (19 page)

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Two hours later, Emily heard his truck pull up in front of her house but she couldn’t believe it. He came back.

She stood by the window, unable to move.

Brad must have seen her. He hesitated a moment and then hurried to her door. He didn’t knock. He walked in and shut the door behind him.

There was no hesitation, he headed straight toward her, lifted her in his arms as if she weighed nothing more than a feather and carried her to the sofa,
where he set her on his lap.

“What happened?” He appeared so dark and brooding; she sensed there was a whole pile of shit she didn’t want to know.

“Crystal had you fired.”

“Well I figured out that much myself. So what does she want with me? Why me? What did I ever do to her?” She raged the words, but she already knew. Brad. It was always about Brad.

“I’ll take care of it, don’t worry. I’ll make sure she doesn’t do this again.”

Emily snapped and tried to break free. But he wouldn’t let her go. “You can’t make me that promise. You can no more control what she does, than control the direction the wind’s blowing.”

He watched her in a way that, she’d swear, she could see the wheels spinning in his head.

“I’ll make sure you’re looked after and protected from any
more unprovoked attacks. I’m asking you to trust me on this.” He didn’t let her answer, he pulled her closer, and took what he figured was his. It was so like him to think the sun, the moon and stars revolved around him. Emily wanted to hit him, to hurt him, but his deep possessive kiss melted away the bitter hurt wreaking havoc on her sound reasoning. She sank into his kiss. It was a kiss that whispered silent promises of a future and the fact that she was his, and then the damn kettle shrilled. She pulled away and jumped off his lap. She needed to stop plugging it in, or maybe she should thank it, as she used those few seconds of freedom to regain her sound mind. Maybe he knew that’s what she was doing, because he was right behind her, his heat, his hand covering hers when she yanked the plug from the outlet. Her blood pulsed harder, faster, through her. Her heart pounding deeper like the natives beating their sacred drums. His hand pressed flat against her back, smoothing its way down, over her shapely bottom fitted into her favorite pair of blue jeans, the ones that sat low on her hips. His hand moved over her, gently, and then changed to possessive and thorough touch. She faced the sink; he pressed into her and slid his arm around her waist. She could feel how much he wanted her. She moved her bottom against him, just as he grabbed a handful of her thick hair hanging in gentle waves down her back. He lifted it and touched his lips to the back of her neck, her shoulders, edging his way down.

His hand slid under her shirt over her stomach, her chest, outlining her curves, a little rough then tender, but he was thorough. He covered her breast, and held her against him like a man did a simple possession. Emily leaned her head back onto his shoulder, finding it difficult to breathe. She moaned as he unclasped her bra and gave her the attention she deserved. His hands moved faster as he found each tender spot, her pants loosened.
She felt outrageously erotic as she pressed against him, and then stepped out of her pants sliding past her knees, pooling around her ankles. Her strength wavered when she felt him spread her thighs with his hand. Emily’s breath hitched when she heard the jingle of his belt buckle, the zipper on his pants. “Brace yourself against the counter.” He slipped into her, tilting her hips and holding her as if they’d mated a hundred times. Her high pitch gasp escaped. It was shockingly indecent, staring out an open window, as her man covered her hand with his, laced his fingers with hers and moved inside her as she shuddered against him, as he discovered a new spot to please her. Nothing gentle about it, pleasure met pleasure as she tightened around him. Her eyelids fluttered and she rolled her head against him; she moaned but he held on, kept going. Then he buried his face against her neck; he shouted primally, and let himself go.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Her legs trembled. She’d need a minute, maybe an hour before she could move again. He was still inside of her, and she was momentarily shocked at how he’d taken her. If his arm wasn’t wrapped around her waist, Emily would slide to the floor.

He nuzzled her neck, her hair. “I love the way your hair smells.” He emitted a low growl in the back of his throat, and turned her around.

She didn’t mind really, the smug way his lips curved, when he curled a lock of hair around his finger, before sinking down into a kiss she supposed was to be quick and light. But he sank into it.

When he pulled back an inch, and then two, his eyes were a fine slit showing the whiskey colored twinkle behind long dark lashes no man had a right to have. God
, how she loved this man. The words jammed somewhere between her heart and head. She must have stiffened, as he traced his finger across her cheek.

“Stop thinking so much, Em.”

He scooped her up; her arms around his neck.

“What about your priorities, the things you need to take care of?”

“I’m tending to them now.” He didn’t stop; he kept going and laid her on the bed. Her mind was going fuzzy. She wrapped her arms back around his neck, and said, “What about the ranch, the animals?”

“You’re first, them later.”

And it was much later indeed. Brad drove Emily to the sitter’s to pick up Katy. He didn’t dump them and run. He stayed, he played with Katy, teased Emily and, before leaving, he kissed her thoroughly and properly, the way a woman should be.

Let the games begin. Except this time, Brad had the rulebook. The sun had set when Brad parked in front of his house. He didn’t move, but jingled the keys in his hand and stared at his house, his family’s house, picturing the viper waiting behind the door. He understood Emily’s ache, her pain. She never asked for any of this to happen. He almost lost her; he still could.

He slid out of his truck, shut the door and stopped on the bottom step. A man with a purpose, he headed toward the barn instead, where Cliff hunkered over some tack needing repairs.

“Hey, boss. Crystal was out here looking for you.”

Brad put everything into each step. Maybe it was the fury on his face that had Cliff swallowing hard and backing away.

Brad bunched his fists as the fury stole over him. He wanted nothing more than to knock this man around. Instead, he looked away, stole a breath, and then another. “Just what the hell did you think you were doing
, telling Jake to fire Emily?”

Cliff paled. He shifted from one foot to the other. “I didn’t want to do it, boss, but Crystal told me you wanted her fired. She said you asked me to stop in and give him the message. I felt bad
’cause I like Emily, but she said it was better to be done in person and you expected me to handle it for you.”

“Are you kidding me? For fuck sakes, Cliff, that’s the dumbest thing I think I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth. Try again. Because I somehow can’t believe you’d think I’d relay a message like that through Crystal. And why didn’t you have the fucking balls to come to me to find out what the hell was going on.” Brad knew Cliff was smarter than that. His vibes poked the back of his neck. This was half-truths and he hated that bullshit.

“Before I toss your sorry ass off this ranch, I want to know something. Have you been telling Crystal what’s been going on here at the ranch?” Cliff’s cheeks suddenly took on a nice rosy hue. Guilty! Brad let loose a solid right jab that connected with Cliff’s lip, his jaw, knocking him down.

Cliff swiped away the blood trickling from his mouth, and then touched the newly loosened tooth.

Brad reached down and grabbed Cliff’s coat front, yanked him off the ground and dragged him out of the barn, giving him a hard push toward the staff house in back. “You’ve got twenty-four hours to pack up and get off my property or I swear to God, I’ll kill you with my bare hands and make damn sure your body’s never found.”

Brad forced himself to stay where he was
, as Cliff stumbled to the small white-frame house he shared with Mac.

Chapter Forty

Brad fed the stock. This was Cliff’s job; he’d redistribute the workload as soon as he found someone to replace Cliff.

The clouds were thick tonight; not even a sliver of moonlight seeped through. Years ago, his eyes had adjusted to the dark. He checked doors and gates, and made sure everything was fastened and secured. The front porch light illuminated two figures on the porch. As he got closer, he could see Cliff, engaged in some heated discussion with Crystal. She stopped and backed away when she saw Brad. Cliff stepped toward her, an angry man who threw up his arms in defeat and stormed away, past Brad, jumping into his beat up brown Chevy truck, spewing gravel as he drove away.

Brad really dug into each step. He slowed and then stopped on the bottom step when Crystal stumbled against the door. He took another step up. A faint flush tinted her cheeks and forehead before the icy glare appeared. “There’s good old Crystal; for a moment I thought you’d grown a conscience.”

She yanked on the screen door and strode back in
to the house.

Brad followed the woman with not even a flicker of interest in the way she sashayed to the kitchen. He wanted to laugh, but remained quiet, calm and in control. She lifted a lid on a simmering pot on the stove, gave it a quick stir and smiled up at him. Brad knew better. Mary was here earlier and she always set dinner on the stove for Brad. He was tempted to ask Crystal what was in it. She wouldn’t know. But it was vaguely entertaining to see her stumble.

“So what was that all about?” Brad couldn’t wait for her spin. She was an accomplished liar and could spin a lie off the tip of her tongue as easy as she could bat an eyelash. Had she ever spoken the truth, any real truth? He studied her now as he would a science experiment. What in the world made her tick?

“He told me you fired him. He wanted me to talk to you and get his job back. He told me about Emily, but I told him that I agreed with you. I mean really, how low can he get? He even threatened to tell you I told him to do it.” She raised her eyes in a mock gesture of disbelief.

She was good. “Hmm.” He nodded.

He couldn’t help wondering now if Cliff realized she’d hung him out to dry. Tomorrow he’d make sure the detective tracked Cliff down. No
, maybe tonight would be better.

“Better turn that off before it burns.” He said nothing more as he
marched out of the house.

Chapter Forty-One

The detective tracked down Cliff in the first bar he stopped at, a dingy local hangout off the highway. Cliff was sitting at the bar, pounding the counter, demanding another drink. The bartender eyed Byrd, a
former NYPD cop, retired out here for the slower pace. Byrd unzipped his tan jacket over his middle that had grown a little slack, about average for a man in his sixties.

Byrd took the stool next to
Cliff and nodded to the bartender. “Next one’s on me.”

“Your funeral.” The big, bearded bartender with eyes that had seen everything
, poured two drafts of what was on tap and slid them in front of Byrd and Cliff.

“Thanks, pal.” Cliff slurred his words.

“A man sitting alone at a bar with that kind of look, reminds me of what my ex did to me, after she robbed me blind and kicked me to the curb.” Byrd looked straight ahead, gazing into the mirror above the bar.

Cliff swayed as he downed a good swallow of beer. He swayed again as he leaned on the bar and stared at Byrd
. The farmhand thought: who is this drunk looking for trouble?

“Not looking to fight with you, son. But sometimes it helps to share your
problems with a stranger.” Byrd took another swallow of the cheap draft they were passing off as beer.

“What the hell would you know about be
in’ scammed by a pretty face, dangled for years with promises, because you’re so in love with some hot babe, you’d jump through fire for her.” He was really swaying now.

“Oh I think we’ve all been there, son, at one time in our life. Some people won’t ever admit how they’d been taken advantage of
, as if it makes you less of a man. It don’t.”

Cliff guzzled the last of his beer, waved his cup in the air. “Hey, Barkeep, fill
’er up. And keep it coming.” He shouted and slammed his cup on the scratched counter.

“You’re done, buddy, I’ll call you a cab.” The bartender cut his hand in front of Byrd. “No more for your friend.”

Byrd stood up and fingered out a few bills, dumping them on the counter. “I got it, I’ll get him home.” The bartender held up the flat of his hand and walked away. But Cliff didn’t plan on going anywhere.

“What, no way! I ain’t drunk enough. And I plan on getting a hell of a lot drunker.”

Byrd patted his shoulder, “Come on friend, I got a bottle of whiskey with your name on it.”

“Yah.” That got his attention. But he swayed when he stood, so Byrd helped him out to his car, and hoped to hell the
man didn’t get sick.

* * * *

Brad was running late the next morning, but understandably so, as he was shorthanded with Cliff gone. Keith was speaking with an older, balding guy he introduced as Byrd when he hurried in Keith’s office.

“So what do you have?”

Keith gestured toward the ex-cop. “Byrd, fill Brad in.”

“Well your friend was pretty drunk by the time I found him. I checked him into a cheap motel by the ocean
; he puked in my car by the way. You owe me for the cleaning.”

“Okay
, okay.” Brad shrugged. “What else?”

“That
guy was twisted so tight around your wife’s finger, I kind of feel sorry for him. He started working for you ten years ago, apparently him and Crystal were friends before that. She got him the job with you.” Byrd had the most crooked teeth Brad had ever seen.

“I guess that’s right. I think he kind of puppy
-dogged after her through school.”

“Yah well, apparently while he worked for you, Crystal used him as her friendly ear. Whenever she needed someone to back up her side of a story, she went to him. He’d been in love with her for years, fantasizing one day she’d leave you and come looking for him. After she left, she’d call him every month or so to talk. He told Crystal when Emily moved in. He said after that, she phoned every day. And it was then
that she told Cliff that you threw her out, but she had been too ashamed to tell him. Told him she was terrified of you and your temper, and you gave her no choice, and at the time, she didn’t believe she legally had any rights. Crystal told him how worried she was about her little boy. Cliff said he had wanted to confront you. But she played the terrified, scared-helpless-female-card, and you would hurt her in retaliation.

He believed her
, the sap. So he searched your office when you and Emily were in town. He’d called Crystal from your office, and she told him what papers to dig out. Your business records, land proposals, development permits, bank records, and what kind of income you’re pulling in.

But when
Cliff saw Emily in your arms one night on the porch, with your lips locked together, he phoned Crystal and told her. And that’s when Crystal came home.”

*
·*·*·*

Brad drove through town and down the highway
, before eventually pulling in at the Oceanview Motel. He paid the desk clerk a hundred dollars to give up Cliff’s room number. Of course, it was listed under Byrd. He pounded on the dingy blue door. “Cliff, its Brad, I need to talk to you, open up.”

Glass and bottles rattled and clanked on the other side of the door. It cracked open enough for Brad to wince from the pungent raunchy odor of day old booze seeping from the pores of a drunk. Cliff slunk back to bed and held his head in his hands
. “You got one hell of a hangover by the looks of things, Cliff.”

He whispered roughly, “Look Brad, I’m done. Just go away and leave me alone.”

“First, I want to apologize.”

Cliff bolted into the bathroom. Brad closed the outside door and listened to the putrid retching and gagging as the poor guy vomited into the toilet. The odor seeped into the room when Cliff reappeared, the stale alcohol and the bitter rotgut lingering in the sweat that glazed Cliff’s damp shirt and face. He shuffled like an old man to the bed. Brad cracked a window.

“Rough night?”

“Yah.” He didn’t bother to look up. Just held his head as he sat slouched on the bed.

“Do you want your job back?”

He looked up and winced at the effort. “What? Now why would you give me my job back after what I did?”

“Look, Cliff. Let me ask you something and give me an honest answer. She still got you fooled?”

His bloodshot eyes narrowed. “She’s conniving and she threw me to the wolves. Let me ask you this, did you throw her out after the baby?”

“Cliff, you were there. You really got to ask? She disappeared. Don’t you remember the day Mary came, and Crystal had left Trevor alone for hours. She just took off.”

Cliff
clasped his hands in front of himself while he looked at Brad. His head hung. “I guess I do.”

“She lied to you, didn’t she?”

“Yah, she did. More than you know.”

It’s hard to say
what gave Brad more enjoyment, hearing that or, an hour later, watching Crystal spark in a fit of rage when she saw Cliff in his beat-up truck, driving in.

Cliff cleaned up before dinner and he stumbled behind Mac when he walked in. Crystal stiffened and paled. After Cliff and Mac left, Crystal cornered Brad at the back door.

“What the hell is that man doing back here?”

“I rehired him. In fact, he’s now my foreman.”

“After what he did, you’d bring him back. He’ll steal from you; he ransacked your personal records for God’s sake.”

“How’d you know he went through my records?”
Brad asked. She looked away.

Crystal
was starting to slip, too many lies to keep track of. “Well you must have told me, or maybe it was him.”

“Mmm, mmm, I never told you. And Crystal, don’t even think about going out to him and starting trouble. You stay away from him.”

She tossed her long mane over her shoulder, flicked back a stray hair with her long painted nail, and then stormed through the kitchen.

Brad tied his boots, when he heard the front door slam and her SUV speed down the driveway. Brad laughed. “Scored.”