Once a Rebel (18 page)

T
he sound of Reese's pulse hammered in his ears.
Daisy was my first love and I've never forgotten her.

He didn't know why the hell that had popped out of his mouth. Well, yeah he did, and that got his heart pumping even harder. When a man—Jason Jamison, confessed kidnapper—was holding a gun on you, you thought about the past. About dying. About things that should be said before dying.

God, please let nothing happen to Daisy.

Please let nothing happen to Daisy and me.

“First love. How romantic.” Jamison was still smiling, but his amusement did nothing to ease Reese's tension.

Or Daisy's. From her place behind him, her fingers tightened on his shirt. He reached back and linked his fingers with hers again.

“But you should never trust a woman, pal.”

Oh, yeah, he and Jason were such good pals. Still, the guy was talking, not shooting, and that
was good. “Had a bad experience, have you?” Reese asked the other man.

“Bitch betrayed me.” Jason's knuckles whitened as he tightened his hold on his gun. “Her name was Melissa and she tried to cut me off at the knees.”

Was.
The man had said
was.
“Daisy's not like that,” Reese replied quickly. This conversation definitely wasn't going the way he wanted it to. “Enough about that, though. Don't you think it's time you got on your way?”

Jason leaned with more confidence against the side of his smashed-up sedan. “Oh, yes, I'll be getting on my way. I just have to figure out what to do with the two of you first.”

Reese squeezed Daisy's fingers in reassurance. “My keys are in my car, Jamison. Go ahead and take it. Leave me and Daisy here.”

“Of course I'll leave you and Daisy here. But the question is do I leave you here alive…or dead?”

Reese sucked in a quick breath, then opened his mouth to answer.

“Alive,” Daisy piped up from behind him.

He squeezed her fingers in warning, but she went on, anyway. “I want to live, Mr. Jamison. I…I just rediscovered my first love.” She stepped around Reese so they were shoulder to shoulder. “That has to be fate, right?”

It had to be crazy! Reese wanted to shove her behind him, to shove her away and tell her to run as
fast as she could to safety. Fate wasn't in charge here, Jason Jamison and his deadly looking gun were, and they didn't seem all so cooperative.

But the other man was smiling again, and looking at Daisy with a new sparkle in his eyes. “Fate? You're a romantic, too, then, are you?”

“I didn't think so. Not until today.”

Reese stared at Daisy. She looked serious. Honest. And then scared to death when Jason Jamison suddenly lunged toward them.

 

Daisy watched the luxury car back up, spin a U-turn, then take off with a squeal of rubber on road. Air that had backed up in her lungs exhaled in a whoosh, further drying her already parched mouth.

It took three swallows for her tongue and throat to start working again. “Do you think he's gone for good?” she croaked out.

She felt Reese shift his shoulders. “Yeah.”

“Thank God.” She was sitting on the gate of her pickup truck, and she drew up her knees so she could rest her forehead on them. For a few minutes she just breathed as euphoric relief flooded her body. She was alive. She and Reese had survived their encounter with a kidnapper and murderer.

He felt warm and solid behind her, and another surge of euphoria coursed through her, a wild burst of giddy bubbles. They made her want to laugh, to
shriek, to shout out her complete and total gladness. She thought about her dad, recovering from a hip replacement at a hospital in San Antonio. She was his only child and her untimely demise would have sucked the life out of The Egg Man, too.

More giddy bubbles. “Would you have any objection to a resounding chorus of ‘Joy to the World'?”

“The Christmas carol?”

“Or the ‘Jeremiah Was a Bullfrog,' version? Your choice.”

Reese laughed.

For some odd reason, the sound sent tears springing to her eyes. She blinked them away, not wanting him to suspect her sudden weakness.

But he knew, anyway. She felt him go still. “Daisy? Daisy, don't cry.”

“I'm not crying.” Right. She hadn't been crying the last time he'd said that to her, either, on their last night together before he went back to California and college. Real crying was sobs and sniffles and wails, not the silent tears that had coursed down her face then and that were coursing down her face now.

“We're okay, Daisy. We're all right.”

“I know.” But she wished he would take her in his arms as he had that night so many years ago. It hadn't done much to comfort her then, but now she thought it might. They were alive, okay, all right, but
it would be so much better to know that with his heart pounding beneath her cheek.

It wasn't going to happen, though, so she dried her wet face against her upraised knees and lifted her head. “So, um, how've you been, Reese?”

He laughed again. “I think my short answer would have to be ‘never better.' And yourself?”

“Pretty much the same.”

There was a long moment of silence. “Daisy Frances,” he finally said aloud, as if testing out her name. “What are the chances I would have come across you on a Texas back road right after your run-in with a kidnapper?”

“About as remote as the likelihood of anyone else happening along this patch of blacktop anytime soon,” she admitted. “Unless you made plans to meet someone out here in the middle of nowhere?”

“I'm in the area to visit family, but this afternoon I was, uh, just taking a drive.”

She thought he sounded almost…embarrassed. “There's still nothing out this way but Dad's egg farm,” Daisy said. “I was on my way to the farmer's market in Austin.”

“The Egg Man will come looking for you then.”

She was already shaking her head. “He's recovering in a hospital from surgery.”

“Oh.”

“That about says it.” She glanced over her shoulder to see if she could read his expression, but only glimpsed his dark, glossy hair in its no-nonsense
business cut. Sighing, she took a look around them, at the countryside empty of every breathing thing except for her, Reese and that damnable cow. It continued to chew as if nothing momentous had happened. “Maybe it was fate,” she murmured.

How else to explain how she and Reese Lavery came to be together again after all these years?

“Is that what you really think?” Reese asked. From the tone of his voice, she couldn't tell what he thought of the idea.

“How else would you explain this?” She held up her hands.

“Jason Jamison's sick sense of humor,” Reese answered. His hands had come up, too, as the two of them were seated back-to-back, their arms at their sides, opposite wrist duct-taped to opposite wrist. “He said a woman hog-ties a man, and this was his oh-so-funny way to prove it.”

NOT THE END

Military Man

by

Marie Ferrarella

 

Enjoy this excerpt of Marie Ferrarella's
Military Man
the tenth book in THE FORTUNES OF TEXAS: REUNION series—available March 2006.

“Y
ou know I wouldn't ordinarily be asking you to do this, but…”

Lieutenant Collin Jamison heard his cousin's voice awkwardly trail off on the other end of the line. Collin's lips curved slightly in an understanding smile. That had always been his gift, for as far back as he could remember. Understanding. Although it took no special gift to know where Emmett was coming from.

His cousin had trouble asking people for favors, even from someone he'd once been close to, the way they once had.

Granted it was a hell of a favor to ask. But at least, since he'd sought him out like this, it meant that Emmett had decided to come back to join the living. That alone would have had Collin saying yes, no matter what the obstacles.

It wasn't easy for Collin to arrange free time. When you worked as an army Ranger for CIA Special Operations, specializing in manhunts and intel
ligence gathering, it wasn't exactly as if you were just another easily replaceable cog.

But he had a lot of time coming to him, time he never bothered using because there wasn't anything else he'd rather be doing than his job.

Things could be managed, Collin thought. Things could
always
be managed.

Collin shifted the receiver to his other ear. He'd barely walked into the small, two-bedroom condo he owned right outside of Quantico, Virginia, when the phone had rung, demanding his attention. He'd thought it was a call to come in for a new assignment.

In a way, he supposed it was.

Exchanging quick, perfunctory pleasantries for less than two minutes, Emmett swiftly filled him in as to why he was calling. Even when they were young, Emmett had never believed in wasting time. Neither did he. That was why they got along so well.

“Yeah, I know,” Collin said now in response to his cousin's awkward pause. “I've got to admit, it's a hell of a surprise, hearing from you. Uncle Blake said that you had gone off somewhere into the mountains in New Mexico to be by yourself.” He recalled the conversation in its entirety. Blake Jamison had been sincerely worried about his youngest son, not knowing if Emmett was going to permanently withdraw from life, or if he just needed time to come to terms with the things he'd witnessed during the course of his work as an FBI special agent.

“I did.”

He heard Emmett sigh quietly on the other end, as if a part of him still wanted to be back there, hidden in the mountains, away from the world. Collin knew how that could be. There were times when he'd thought seriously about just saying the hell with everything and retreating himself. That usually lasted until the next interesting case came along to challenge him. He was no good with free time. Free time made you think.

“I needed some peace and quiet,” Emmett was saying. As always, his cousin was given to under-statement.

For a while there Collin had worried about Emmett's sanity. Everyone thought about running away, but very few ever did it. Those who did generally invited speculation about the state of their mental health.

But now that Emmett was back, Collin breathed a little easier. “Couldn't find any, huh?” he joked.

His uncle Blake had told Collin that when Emmett's older brother, Christopher, had turned up murdered, it just intensified Emmett's desire to stay away from the world. It was only after his father had made the pilgrimage to his shack to tell him that Christopher had been killed by Jason, the brother both he and Christopher had watched descend into madness, that Emmett snapped out of his depression and left his
self-imposed exile to battle the “bad guys” again. This time, the bad guy was his older brother.

“No, it's not that,” Emmett responded wearily to his cousin's joke. “The world just won't let me alone.” He took a deep breath and reiterated his initial plea. “I need your help in finding Jason.”

Collin didn't bother saying the obvious, that Emmett had greater resources than him to employ. Or the more obvious, that the FBI was never thrilled having someone from the CIA nosing around. He said, instead, what they both knew to be true.

“Jason's sick, Emmett. He has been for a long time now.” Jason had been different as a boy, given to hero worshipping their grandfather to the point that it became a near obsession. All of Farley Jamison's past history became Jason's by proxy, to cherish and, more importantly, to vindicate.

“No,” Emmett contradicted, his voice harsh, “he's evil. You know that.”

Yes, Collin thought, he supposed he did. Accustomed as he was to the ugly underbelly of the world, he still found it hard to pin that label on someone whose blood ran through your own veins.

Pausing, Collin tried to guess at Emmett's reasons for what he was doing. The brothers had never been particularly close, even as children.

“You afraid the FBI'll kill Jason if they find him?”

Emmett's voice was steely as he replied, “No, I'm afraid he'll wind up killing someone else. He's my
flesh and blood and I don't want that on my conscience.”

Emmett always had enough conscience for three people, Collin thought. For a man who was only thirty-one, he acted as if he was born old. “You're not your brother's keeper, Emmett.”

There was another long pause on the other end of the line. Collin wondered if he'd insulted Emmett. After all, he hadn't seen or spoken to him for a while now and people had a habit of changing.

Everyone but him, he mused.

“Maybe not,” Emmett finally said, “but I'm an FBI agent. What I'm supposed to do is keep the public safe from maniacs like Jason. Frankly, I'm afraid that he'll surface somewhere and kill Ryan Fortune before I get a chance to take him down.”

Collin was vaguely familiar with Fortune, mainly from newspaper articles. The billionaire rancher was the epitome of generosity, giving to so many charities that the public had lost count. Collin was also aware that there was some sort of a family connection, but he had his own world, his own concerns. The Fortunes were a world apart from him.

“Ryan Fortune? Why?”

In the background, he thought he heard someone call out “Room Service.” Emmett responded with a crisp, “Later,” before continuing and telling him what he'd pieced together. “Because Grandpa's stories turned Jason's mind to the state of an overripe, rot
ting apple. Because Grandpa blamed the Fortunes for turning him into a pauper and making him live out the rest of his life in that state. Grandpa needed a scapegoat for his problems and an audience to hear about it. Jason adored him and now he thinks he's bringing some kind of divine justice into play.

“I know him, Collin. Jason's crazy enough and evil enough to try something desperate. I mean, if he killed Christopher because for some reason Christopher got in the way of his big ‘plans,' then—”

Collin was quick to stop him. He needed confirmation. “Is that what happened?”

A rare fondness slipped into Emmett's voice. “You know Christopher. He's always—” Emmett stopped. Collin could almost feel the other man's physical pain as he corrected himself “—
was
always bent on bringing out the best in everyone. He knew Jason was obsessed with avenging Grandpa and followed him down here to Red Rock to talk him out of whatever it was he was planning.” All feeling drained out of his voice. “But nobody messes with Jason. At least, that's what Jason believes.”

Even as a small boy, Collin remembered, Jason had always been headstrong, always needed to be center stage, or else he was given to destroying the stage.

“So he killed Christopher.” Even though Jason had been arrested and charged with the crime with
most people believing he was guilty, it was still something that Collin found difficult to say.

“And that girl who was posing as his wife,” Emmett interjected. “And that guard who was transporting him to another prison.” And who knew how many others who hadn't come to light, Collin couldn't help thinking. “Human life means nothing to him,” Emmett said with utter disgust. “And a second transport guard is just barely hanging on.”

“Maybe he can tell you something—” Collin began.

Emmett cut him off. Not because he felt angry or impatient, Collin knew, but because it was the way he was. Clipped and to the point.

Collin knew that was his cousin's way of keeping everything at bay except for the facts. Emmett was not about to allow his emotions to suck him down to the depths he'd already been pulled to once.

He couldn't survive a second trip down that far.

“The guard's in a coma.”

“Oh.” That rather curtailed his ability to talk to the man, Collin thought. “So what exactly do you want from me?”

“I need you to do what you do best,” Emmett told him. “You can get into the mind of a criminal, find him, second-guess his next move.”

The words were flattering, but not without foundation. Still, he did that with strangers, getting into their heads, under their skins. But in this case Em
mett had an advantage over him. “He's your brother, shouldn't you be the one who's able to—”

Again, Emmett cut him short. “Jason's been a mystery to me from day one. Christopher was the brother I always admired, not Jason.” Collin could hear the pain in his cousin's voice. “Jason was always evil, always out for just Jason.”

With one notable exception, Collin thought. “Except in the way he felt about your grandfather.”

“I think he saw Grandpa as an extension of himself.” Emmett made his final entreaty. “This is family business, Collin. I need someone on my side.”

It was clear to Collin that even though his cousin was part of the FBI himself, the organization saw them as intruders in this case.

The request was something new for Emmett. Collin knew that his cousin was accustomed to working alone. So much so that the Bureau did not view him as a team player. But Emmett was very good at what he did, which made him a valuable asset to the FBI. Valuable assets were allowed some leeway. So when Emmett put in for an extended leave of absence, saying he needed time in order to pull himself together, Collin knew the objections were few. The Bureau did not want to risk having a stressed-out agent amid their number.

For a while there Collin had thought that his cousin's withdrawal from the world was destined to be a permanent one. And maybe it would have be
come that eventually, if family honor and Emmett's own sense of pride hadn't joined together to pull him out of the tailspin he'd found himself in.

Leaning back, Collin put his feet on his coffee table and drew the only conclusion he could from Emmett's tone. “I take it our end of the investigation is going to be unofficial.”

Even if it hadn't been his choice, it would have had to be this way. “You know the Bureau frowns on their operatives handling anything that remotely involves their personal lives.”

The army was the same way. He was going to have to request a leave of absence, Collin thought.

He laughed softly to himself, relishing the image. “So as far as the local law enforcement officers are concerned, we're going to be just two pains in the butt for them.”

As always, Emmett put a serious interpretation on the words. “Let me worry about the local law enforcement officers.”

Swinging his legs off the table, Collin shifted to the edge of the sofa, his attention focused on the nature of Emmett's words. “You are planning on checking in with them.” He wanted to know.

Emmett was honest with him, Collin knew. Emmett could never be anything less than that. “As little as possible and only when necessary. You know that every agency thinks they're supreme.”

Collin grinned and laughed again, unable to help
himself. “When we all know that it's only true as far as the FBI is concerned.”

The easy give and take they'd always enjoyed as boys and then young men was still being held somewhat in abeyance. Invoking the memories, he might feel comfortable around Emmett, but there was no sign that Emmett reciprocated the feeling. He seemed to be nothing but all business and as rigid as an iron bar.

“So,” Emmett asked, wanting to know, “are you in?”

There had never been any question in Collin's mind from the moment he'd said hello and recognized Emmett's voice. “I'm in.”

 

…NOT THE END…