Midnight Sins (34 page)

back at them as though they hadn’t spoken. He had

his tricks and maneuvers that didn’t quite match his

presence here tonight.

“I hear you spent a few days at the Triple R

ranch?” His head jerked around, his gaze piercing as

he asked the question almost casually.

As though he would catch her doing something,

or an expression on her face that would give him an

answer of some sort.

She was tempted to simply roll her eyes again,

just to show him she wasn’t in the least intimidated.

Though, actually, she might have been, just a little bit

intimidated.

“I did,” she admitted.

There was no denying it after all. Martin Eisner

had seen her kissing Rafer before she left. That spurt

of reckless challenge that Rafer always awakened in

her had ensured she didn’t walk away from him

without throwing caution to the winds. Caution and his

belief that she could ever be ashamed of having a

man like Rafer Callahan in her bed.

It wasn’t shame that held her back. It was that

debilitating fear. That overriding knowledge of the risk

he could bring to her soul and her survival.

It wasn’t one of her brightest moments, though,

she admitted, but definitely one of her most honest.

He turned back to her, his hands pushing the

edges of his silk business jacket back as he shoved

them into the pockets of his nicely pressed blue jeans.

That was a rancher. Jeans and a silk business

jacket.

It was standard for for this particular baron of

Corbin County, as he and his two cohorts were called.

His head tilted to the side as he watched her

carefully, a hint of curiosity in his gaze.

“What a contradiction of expressions on your

face,” he mused thoughtfully. “Tell me, Ms. Flannigan,

is he aware you’re in love with him?”

A frown jerked between her brows. “I’m not in

love with, Rafer, Mr. Roberts. There are just—” She

paused. Her teeth clenched as she fought for the

reason. “There are just things between us. That’s all.”

“Things?” Arrogant and mocking, and fully aware

of his own sense of knowledge, the arch of that dark

brow assured her he believed otherwise.

“Exactly. Just things.” She cocked her hip as her

arms tightened over her breasts. “Do you mind telling

me what you need? I’m rather busy with lesson plans

and so forth tonight.”

If he intended to threaten her with her job, then

she would allow him the opportunity now rather than

later.

He didn’t speak immediately. He just continued

to stare at her thoughtfully for long moments. Finally,

he gave a small shake of his head as his lips quirked

knowingly.

“I’m going to assume you’re aware you could

lose every friend or acquaintance you have in this

county,” he said then, his voice soft. “Tell me, Ms.

Flannigan, are you certain you want to continue in this

relationship that seems to be developing between you

and Rafer, considering the risks and losses you’re

looking at?”

Someone else who called him Rafer.

She could see the frown on Rafer’s face now,

especially considering the fact that there had been

times it had seemed he was uncertain if he wanted

her calling him by the full version of his name.

“He doesn’t like being called Rafer,” she stated.

“He only tolerates it from me, you know.”

And she was rather possessive of the privilege.

Rafer had been known to get into fistfights over that

name. But it seemed to suit him so very well.

“He’s never tolerated it from anyone else, but his

full given name is Marshal Rafer Callahan,” he stated,

and for a moment she saw something, sensed

something she never had in her life. Pure, icy grief.

“His mother loved her father,” he said softly then.

And the rumor had been that the father had

cherished his daughter.

“Your middle name is Rafer?”

“As is his,” he inclined his head slowly. “But

you’re digressing, Ms. Flannigan, and being much too

curious. I asked you a question.”

“My friends won’t walk away if they’re my friends.”

She shrugged. “If they do walk away, then I don’t need

them in my life.”

His lips quirked as an expression of insultingly

sardonic amazement crossed his face. “How

incredibly innocent. And stupid.” He paused then, his

jaw tightening before he said, “Haven’t you already

lost one friend because of the Callahans? I believe

she even told my granddaughter that you were so

besotted with him and the child you carried for such a

short time that nothing else mattered to you.”

She breathed in deeply, fighting the pain that

wanted to tear at her soul. She couldn’t believe

Amelia had actually told anyone in that horrible family

about the child she carried.

“Does anyone else know?” she whispered,

wondering if Rafe knew, or if there was a possibility of

any of the Callahans learning of it.

He snorted at the thought. “My granddaughter

told only me, and Amelia hasn’t even told her father as

far as I know.”

Cami rather doubted that. If she had told Marshal

Roberts’s granddaughter, supposedly her best friend

and co-worker, then her father, Wayne Sorenson,

knew as well.

She had prayed Amelia would keep that to

herself.

“My granddaughter understands family loyalty,”

he assured her as though it were a question. “Trust

me, it wasn’t information we wanted bandied about.”

Of course it wasn’t. God forbid that the grandson

he had disowned would dare to have children of his

own. Or that any woman would desire to have his

child.

“Did you have a drink to celebrate the loss of

your great-grandchild, Mr. Roberts?” she asked

painfully, certain he would have. “I hope you enjoyed

it.”

Her voice rasped, the inability to hold back her

pain in front of this man was galling.

“No, Ms. Flannigan, I did not.” The flash of some

emotion she thought could have been regret flashed

in his gaze. “I grieved, just as I grieved when I lost my

daughter.”

“You still had your grandson. Did you grieve when

you disowned him?” Anger was beginning to churn

inside her now. What the hell made him think he was

wanted here? “You’ve had more than twenty years to

show him you grieved and what have you done, Mr.

Roberts? Better yet, why are you even here?”

She didn’t want to deal with him. He had broken

his grandson’s heart. If his daughter had been living,

he would have destroyed her if what he said was true,

and she had loved him so dearly she had named her

only child after him.

“I’m here to reason with you, because you carried

my great-grandchild at one time,” he said softly. “And

because I know you grieved when you lost that child. I

don’t want to see you hurt further, Ms. Flannigan. And

regardless of what you think, I don’t want to see Rafer

hurt anymore than he has already been. It may be in

your best interests to consider severing the

relationship now. Or convincing him to leave Colorado

altogether. His chances at happiness would be

greatly improved if he would do so.”

She frowned back for a moment. “Isn’t there

some codicil in the inheritance his mother left him,

and that was left to her, that states the heir can only be

a resident of Corbin County? Not any other Colorado

county or other state? And doesn’t it only give certain

reasons why he can be away for more than a year,

with the military being one of those reasons?”

He stared back at her for long moments, his gaze

icy before his lips quirked, though the ice in his eyes

remained.

“Touché, Ms. Flannigan,” he murmured. “Touché.

And did Rafer give you these details?”

“He didn’t have to. The details are a matter of

public record for anyone who cares to check,” she

informed him.

“And of course, you cared enough about the man

who fathered the child you lost to check,” he said

softly.

It hurt. The memory of the child was like a deep,

burning wound that refused to stop bleeding with

bitterness, or aching with an agony she couldn’t dim

whenever she allowed herself to think about it.

“Besides the point,” she retorted. “What makes

you think you have the right to steal what his mother

wanted him to have?”

“Because his mother knew it wasn’t hers to begin

with,” he suddenly snapped before quickly turning his

back on her, his shoulders bunching with the obvious

anger surging through him.

When he turned back seconds later, his

expression lacked any emotion whatsoever. “Is that

inheritance more important than his happiness?” he

finally asked, his voice dripping with ice.

“Evidently, as Rafer is still in Corbin County, it

appears the two go hand in hand,” she retorted with

mocking anger, her emphasis on the fact that he

shouldn’t have to choose apparent.

As his lips parted, another question pushed past

her lips almost unbidden as the thought came to her.

“Are you the son of a bitch behind the threatening

phone calls I’ve been getting? Because if you are, you

can inform whoever you’ve put up to making them that

they aren’t effective in the least. I will not be frightened

away from something I want, Mr. Roberts. Or

something I feel I deserve.”

He seemed to freeze. For a second, she thought

she might have seen fear flash in his eyes, but

Marshal Roberts wasn’t a man known for feeling fear.

To the contrary, he was known for being rather

fearless in the face of most situations.

“No,” he finally said, his voice soft, his expression

tightening and forming a hardened, emotionless cast.

“I haven’t put anyone up to calling you, Ms. Flannigan,

and definitely not to threaten you. Have you told the

sheriff of the calls?”

“Not yet.” She’d had no intention of telling Archer.

She preferred not to, suspecting the information might

get back to Rafer.

She wasn’t certain if she was ready for that.

Slowly, his hand lifted, and for a second, every

one of his near seventy years was reflected clearly on

his face as he covered it with his hand.

Weariness slumped his shoulders and the image

of a man at the end of a particular rope had Cami

pausing for a second. It was gone as quickly as it had

flashed across his face, though. If it had even been

there to begin with.

“I would highly suggest alerting the sheriff to