Relentless (Fallon Sisters Trilogy: Book #1) (21 page)

Rafe shrugged. "Maybe he's humoring me. But with all that's happened, it would be sheer stupidity on his part not to take Wes's threat seriously."

"Then there's no need for you to run out on your family."

He pushed off the doorjamb. "I'm not their only son. My brother Trey is there. He'll run the ranch until Dad recuperates. I've actually been glad for the time apart."

His brooding eyes spoke of something more than needing a little distance. She guessed living on a ranch at his age, with his parents, could be stifling. Of course, her living arrangements matched his. So far, having her father under the same roof was more blessing than curse. Whatever festered between him and his parents, it was a foregone conclusion Mr. Tightlips wasn't going to share it willingly, and, frankly, she was too tired to covertly—although she'd been accused of lacking in that department—drag it out of him.

She grabbed his hand. "Come on. Let's get you fed and packed."

Bren slid the barn door closed. Rafe pulled her to him and kissed the top of her head. "I don't have time to eat. Tell Daniel thanks." He took a step back, his hands resting on her hips. "Just lie low until I get back."

Oh, she would. The timing couldn't have been more precise. Monday was President's Day. Courts were closed, so Wes would be under lock and key until then. She gave Rafe a sweet smile. "When are you coming back?"

"Monday night. That gives me tonight, Sunday, and part of Monday to check on things."

Perfect. When Wes got out, she wanted to make damn sure she kept a high profile. Giving Wes every opportunity to make good on his threat meant being accessible. Clearing her calendar, or, rather, rounding up enough volunteers to cover her duties around the farm for the next week, was crucial, and her job with Jeremy was flexible.

She went up on her tiptoes, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him. Darting her tongue inside his mouth, she teased him before pulling away. She nuzzled the side of his ear and whispered, "I'm going to miss not being your girlfriend."

Before he could hold her in place, she sidestepped his arms that were just catching up to her impetuous kiss. He gave her a lopsided grin. "You're a dick tease, Bren Ryan."

"Shh." She put her finger across her lips and glanced back at the house. "They'll hear you."

R
afe's truck disappeared around the bend, and Bren continued toward the house. But the purr of an engine growing louder behind her made her spin around.

She frowned at the blue-and-white patrol car slipping up the driveway. Looked like Kevin had begun his patrol checks.

He parked the car and stepped out.

Bren gave him a wide smile. "What do I owe the pleasure—"

"This isn't a social call." His blue eyes nailed her. "Wes is out on bail."

"What? I thought—"

"His lawyer knows the court commissioner. As a special favor, he agreed to come in on a Saturday."

Bren stepped back. "He's free?" The words fell in an incredulous burst from her mouth.

"As a bird."

I should tell Rafe.
The thought popped into her brain of its own volition. No. She was stronger than that. Besides, his responsibility was to his family.

She eyed the only one trained to protect her. "What are you going to do about it?"

Kevin, with legs apart, hands on hips, drilled into her with his eyes. "Nothing. I told you, Wes isn't looking to settle a score with you using violence."

"I sent Wes to jail. I think a payback is in order."

"Sounds to me like you planned it, which reminds me. You owe me details."

Her legs were ready to give out. She'd been tending to the new arrivals since sunup. The noon hour was fast approaching, and she doubted Kevin would give her a reprieve. He needed her side for his report. Bren sidestepped him and hopped onto the hood of his patrol car, thankful to be off her feet.

"Hey, that's county property you just sat your ass on."

Bren laughed. "You're so stuck on yourself. I pay taxes. So it's my property, too."

Kevin's face turned red. "We're not kids anymore. Tell me how you knew about Wes."

Kevin leaned his butt against the hood, and she filled him in on her intelligence-gathering. She left out Belinda Harrington and concentrated on the pertinent facts. When she was done, he frowned and scratched his bristly hair.

"Wes is pissed as shit right now. But Wes is a businessman. You don't think he knew eventually he'd get caught red-handed? Oh, sure, he's angry it was you. But it's all part of doing business. He'll get fined in the end. But he'll be right back doing what he's always done. And you, Bren Ryan, aren't going to change it." He took a breath and studied her. "I promised Rafe I'd keep up patrols, but as far as I'm concerned you don't need it. When he gets back, I'll let him provide bodyguard service for you." He gave her a wry twist of his mouth. "He seems to enjoy being your knight."

"He is not—"

He put up his hand. "Save it." Then he grabbed her arm and slid her down from the hood. "You're done policing Wes. I'm hereby ordering you to get some sleep." He frowned. "You look like hell."

"You're full of compliments."

He laughed. "I try." He opened the car door. "I mean it. Forget Wes. I've got your back." He rolled his eyes.

Fine. She'd humor him. She didn't believe one word of his glorified speech. She could take care of herself. Besides, she wasn't alone. She had her dad and the boys home with her until Rafe got back. "I feel safe already," she said and turned to go in.

Maybe she'd spend the time researching the other issue that law enforcement seemed inept at solving and perhaps find something that would tie them to Tom's death. She stopped and gave him a lift of her brow. "Any word on that toxicology report on Sweet Prince you promised to look into?"

"Last I heard, the FBI's taking a closer look."

"What the hell?" She took a step closer. "You didn't think to mention to them they'd investigated this kind of thing before, almost thirty years ago? Or that maybe Tom's death has something to do with these horses dropping like flies? I can show them the articles."

"The FBI's quite capable of figuring out what's going on with the rash of horse deaths. Last time I looked, you weren't trained in investigations."

Kevin had his way of doing things, and she had hers. But if she didn't get off her feet, she was going to slither to the gravel drive. "We done here?"

"For now."

"Good. I'm going to bed." She turned toward the house.

"Bren?"

What now?
She didn't bother facing him.

"Let the FBI do their job and stay the hell out of their way."

She wrinkled her nose and waved him off without so much as a glance and headed up the stairs. "I'll take it under advisement."

Bren headed for the steps. Kevin started his patrol car and pulled out. She cleared the front door and crossed into the kitchen, slumping into her assigned chair at the kitchen table, the egg sandwich she'd been hungry for cold and otherwise unappealing. She'd have liked to think Kevin had it all figured out. If Wes didn't kill Tom, then she was at a loss because no one she could think of had motive.

"Bren?"

She brought her head up as her father entered from the back door of the kitchen. "Hey, Dad."

He frowned. "Where's Rafe?"

"He's—"

Aiden and Finn came charging in carrying coats, hats, heavy winter socks, and two orange vests.

"Hey guys. What's with the clothes? You two need to get some rest."

They stopped and studied her, their brows knitting together.

"We're not tired. Granddaddy's taking us hunting up at the lake this weekend." Finn's eyes were bright with excitement. The camouflage coveralls he dragged behind him looked like a body, its legs sliding along the hardwood floor behind him.

Indecision tugged at the corner of Bren's mouth. They were beat, whether they'd admit it or not. But a road trip up to Deep Creek and the hunting cabin had erased any notion of sleep.

"Come on, Mom. We told you about it. We're off Monday. It's a holiday," Aiden said.

Somewhere along the way, she briefly remembered something to the effect. She really needed to do a better job keeping up on her children's social schedule.

"Guys, I don't think with all that's happened..."

Aiden dropped the wad of clothes he carried onto the floor and beaded in on her with disbelief. "We've been planning this. You said we could go."

"But, Aiden, you've been up all night..." She looked to her father for support.

He dried his hands on his apron and took a seat at the table. "Boys, I know I promised we'd go. But I don't feel it be wise under the circumstances." He patted Bren's hand. "Honey, I had every intention of canceling. It slipped my feeble mind, 'tis all. I'm not leaving you alone with—" He eyed his grandsons, wanting her to know he would not be sharing Wes's threat as he searched for an excuse. "We've got too much to do with twenty-two new additions in the barn."

"That's so lame." Aiden fell back against the kitchen wall and crossed his arms over his chest, frowning.

Bren laughed and put her head on the table. Grace survived on volunteers, and this weekend there was an abundance due to the hubbub generated by Wes's arrest. But still, the thought of being alone in the house at night made her grow cold.

Stop being a baby and let them go.

"He's right." She turned her head toward her father. "I'll be fine. You'll be back on Monday. They deserve some downtime before school starts up."

"Bren, I don't think it be wise under the circumstances," he grumbled under his breath.

"Come on, Granddad, you promised," Aiden said.

Her father gave her a guarded expression and motioned her out the back door. She stood to follow, and Finn came up beside her and tugged her arm. "You gonna let us go?" How could she say no? They were not privy to Wes's threat. To them this was like any other horse seizure.

She tweaked Finn's nose. "I'll work on him." She eyed Aiden. "You have no homework?"

He shook his head. "I finished it."

She patted Finn's back. "And how about you, mister?"

"Mine's done, too."

"Okay. Finish packing." She continued toward the door and angled back to say to Aiden, "What about Roscoe?"

"He's going. We're going to work on tracking."

Even better. A mini-vacation for Mom. "You have his food packed?"

Aiden turned toward the pantry where the dog food was kept. "Getting it now."

Bren smiled. It was amazing how congenial her eldest could be when he wanted something. "I'll talk to Granddad."

She stepped out on the back porch only to be met with a pair of intent blue eyes focused on her. "Really, Bren. Of all the weekends to be alone." He scratched his balding head. "I don't feel at all good about it, you know."

He'd feel even worse if he knew the truth, but she wasn't going to spoil this weekend for them, her father included. "Dad, Wes is in jail, and I have Rafe next door."

"Speaking of which, where the devil is Rafe?" A furry gray brow shot up over his glasses.

Here came the lie. "He went home to bed."

She waited, chewing her bottom lip.

"That's understandable, I suppose."

"He's coming by for dinner later. There will be volunteers coming and going. Jeremy will be by to make his rounds, and, thanks to Rafe, Kevin's making patrol checks. I won't be alone."

His frowning face relaxed. "It does sound like there'll be plenty of people to keep an eye on the place and
you.''
He pulled on his bottom lip. "But you'll call and check in with us. I'll have the boys call you before bed. Don't make me worry, then."

"I'll keep my cell on me at all times."

"I guess there's nothing to be done about it now." He hugged her tight and pulled away. "Oh, before I forget." He dug inside his pants pocket and handed her a key.

"What's this?"

"To the back door. The boys must be jiggling the lock, maybe the knob, perhaps. It was missing a screw. I couldn't find a match in my toolbox. I ended up buying a new doorknob. Not that it's a big inconvenience, but your usual house key won't work for this one until I have it rekeyed."

The boys rarely used the back door. Last time she'd checked, it was perfectly secure. A shiver trickled down her spine, and she clasped the key, the brass cold against her palm.

S
aturday and most of Sunday went by in a blur. Since neither her father nor Rafe were aware she was alone, she made a point of answering her cell phone without delay. Other than Roscoe taking a dip in the frigid lake by way of falling through the ice, her father was holding his own. Rafe's father, now in a cast, had been released from the hospital and was recuperating, with Rafe and his brother Trey managing the ranch with the hopes of Rafe making his scheduled flight Monday afternoon.

Now at close to midnight and with a full schedule for Monday awaiting her, Bren grabbed her laptop off the kitchen counter and flipped off the overhead light on her way up to bed. She snagged the notepad and pen off her nightstand and crawled under the covers. Clicking into her favorites, she found the website and an article she'd bookmarked last night.

Investigating the recent horse deaths that had troubled Tom was something she'd had on her list to do. She had poked around the last couple of weeks. But now she had the time, since she couldn't relax or fall asleep with Wes out on bail.

Tom's edginess with regard to the horses and then his own demise seemed too coincidental. She didn't know how they were connected or even if they were. But it needed a closer look. Especially since the last colic case in Maryland which had a sizable insurance policy had happened in Wes's stable, several weeks before the night she'd found Tom. Maybe she had it wrong. Maybe Tom's death had to do with keeping Tom quiet.

The old article popped up, and she concentrated on the screen:
An American Heiress Goes Missing.

She made notes and continued to dig through other old articles. It had happened before—happened a lot. Show horses, jumpers, and racehorses—each insured to the hilt, all paying huge insurance premiums. As it turned out, the owners, without exception, had hired one Tommy "The Sandman" Burns. And it would seem that the heiress, for all her aristocratic breeding and wealth, had somehow gotten tangled up in a most abominable conspiracy that had made her expendable.