Renegade Moon (CupidKey) (21 page)

He certainly didn’t want to, but felt he must. They went outside and walked down the porch to stand at the far end.

“Martin told me that Destiny saved your life last night.”

“Yeah. She came after me. They drugged me. I would’ve drowned when the creek rose if she hadn’t.” He felt distinctly uncomfortable, never being good at handling emotional confrontations. If he couldn’t avoid one, he usually got angry.

“Eric.” Iris rested a hand on his arm.

He had to force himself not to shrink away from her, stoically staring straight ahead, not focusing on her in front of him. He felt ashamed, knowing he’d used her during the covert investigation by not discouraging her.

Her hand dropped away. “You’ve been a busy boy with all the smuggling and spying. Lee Duncan, of all people. He was in over his head, of course. He’s really not the criminal type.” She gazed up at Eric. “Is there anything at all left between us?”

Not meeting her eyes, he shook his head.

“I’m sorry . . . that I hurt you all those years ago. I was such a foolish child.” She moved just into his side vision. “I’d hoped that . . . maybe we . . . could . . . that I could make it up to you. That’s why I came here to Las Nubes. I wanted us to start fresh.”

“Iris, it was a long time ago. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Her violet eyes glistened with unshed tears as she stared into his face. “Not at all? You don’t feel even a little something for me? We meant so much to each other, Eric.”

“Did we?”

“I thought so. I can’t believe now it’s gone forever.”

“It’s been gone a long time, Iris.”

She tipped her head to conceal escaping tears that traced their way down her smooth face.

Eric mentally squirmed. He truly felt no lingering love for this woman. At one time his feelings had flamed high for her, and her acquiescence to her family’s rejection of him had hurt and humiliated him. But that evaporated long ago. Now, he mentally cringed with a strong discomfort that he must deal with this scene.

“Iris, don’t,” he said, swamped with embarrassed pity for her.

Sighing, she turned away from him and blotted at her tears with her fingertips. After a moment she walked down the porch, descended the steps, and drove away. When the violet Corvette disappeared over the rise, Eric went inside without looking back.

Two of Glen’s associates arrived to take Destiny and Eric’s statements not long after they’d finished eating. Destiny told them everything, including the overheard and recorded conversations, handing over what evidence she could supply. She admitted the reason she’d waited before notifying the authorities was her concern about Eric, plus not knowing whom to trust.

After the others left, Eric, Destiny, and Martin went out onto the porch. Eric sat on the top step, leaned against an arch, and pulled Destiny down beside him. He draped an arm around her and nuzzled her clean-scented hair.

“She thought I was a smuggler,” he said to his brother. “She said she suspected me because I act like a horse’s ass.”

Martin laughed. “You do. Trust me.”

“Eric, what happened to make Jard and Stoker decide to kill you?” Destiny asked.

He shifted slightly, still keeping her close. “After we had that fight and you moved out, I didn’t want any more of it.” He scowled. “It had cost me my girl. I wanted to chuck it. I tried to find Glen and when I couldn’t, I settled for Jard. He and Stoker were at the dance. I told them I didn’t want them operating on the Bar-M anymore. I didn’t give away the investigation. I just told them to find another place to play their games. They didn’t want to change. Guess I got a little forceful with my arguments. Next thing I knew Jard hit me with a hypo and they shoved me into their car.”

“How deeply is the Rampton Foundation involved?” Destiny asked.

“Only Lee Duncan. He did a bit of embezzling to pay for expensive tastes. To cover up and pay back his ‘borrowing’ for an upcoming audit, he needed money. When Jard offered him a deal, he jumped on it. Guess he thought it simple enough. All he had to do was provide them with Rampton Foundation cover. Firearms went out, and gold, jewelry, and stolen artwork came in. The Rampton Corporation logo lends lots of credibility, easy for them to ship stuff under that umbrella,
and
operate off the radar, which is Jard’s preferred MO.”

“So Iris wasn’t involved at all,” Martin murmured.

“Nope, but her arrival was galling, too. She showed up and threw everybody off. Even though she claimed it was to see me, we had to make sure. That’s why I, well, why I had to play along. I hated it. I don’t love her anymore and haven’t for a long time. But I had to wait to tell her it ended between us ten years ago, and that she was wasting her time. And I didn’t like the feeling that I was somehow misleading her. The whole thing stank. Period.”

His voice sounded so thoroughly uncomfortable that Destiny twisted around to see his face. He wrinkled his nose as if a rotten odor fouled the air. “Iris talked to me that day we rode to the Indian caves,” she told him. “She said if I didn’t leave you alone, she’d make my life miserable. She said you still loved her, but that she’d hurt you and you were just punishing her for it. When you felt she’d paid the price, you’d want her back.”

About halfway through, Eric started shaking his head. “Not true. Not at all.”

“She claimed she’d given you up for quote, ‘other people’s stupid reasons,’ and she wasn’t going to give you up again. Eric, what are those reasons?”

He sighed and patted Muddog, who had come seeking attention. “Iris’s family found out I wasn’t a blood Montoya, that I was adopted, and an Apache Indian to boot. So they packed her off to Europe to let the contamination wear off.”

“Little brother,” Martin said quietly. “I told them. I told old man Rampton.”

“Yeah, I know that.”

Destiny saw that surprise could effectively wipe that aloofness off Martin’s face, as well as a smile.

“You
knew
? How did you find out?”

Eric gave one of his artful shrugs. “Jefferson Rampton came to me and said, ‘What’s this Martin says about you not being a blood Montoya, boy?’ and I said, ‘That’s right.’ And that was that.” Eric cocked his head at Martin. “Hey,
hermano
. It was never a secret. I can’t believe they didn’t know by just looking at me.”

“Why did you tell Mr. Rampton that, Martin?” Destiny asked.

“Because, sugar, my little brother came home from the army and took my girl right out from under my nose, that’s why. I was dating Iris. We were getting pretty thick, too. She’d visited the Double Bar-M, and things were cozy. Then along came Soldier-boy and that did it.”

“Aw, Martin, it was the novelty she liked. I’ve always believed we’d have broken up if the relationship had run its course. And I know she really doesn’t want me back. She just wants to return to that time. When Iris first arrived, she talked to me some, and said she felt like her life has been boring and pointless these past ten years. She wanted to recapture the past, not me.”

“You could be right, I guess. Anyway, sorry I told Rampton. At the time I just wanted to hit back.” He grinned at Eric. “Maybe you should thank me. You might be married to her if I hadn’t done it.”

“Well, you ought to thank me, too. Maybe I saved
you
from marrying her.”

Martin studied his hands. “That might not be so bad. Iris and I are more alike. We enjoy creature comforts like electricity, cell phones, the Internet, and cable TV. We like to dress up and go into the big city, eat fancy food, and attend the theater. And it seems we share a connection that still exists. Maybe it’s prickly, but it’s there.”

“Have you told her that?” Destiny asked, assuming a matchmaker role.

“Sugar, the last thing I told her of any significance was ‘good-bye’ ten years ago when she burned me.”

“Yet after all this time, you claim a connection. So tell her.”

Martin shook his head. “She doesn’t want to hear.”

“Try,” Destiny pressed. “Or are you afraid she’ll burn you again?”

“I’m older. Tougher. Burns heal.” Expression thoughtful, he stood. “I admit it felt . . . crazy seeing her again. Maybe I’ve learned to play with matches with a bit more care now. Who knows, eh?” With a little salute, he walked off around the house toward the vehicles.

“Eric,” Destiny said, quickly unpinning Cupid where she’d fastened it to her clean T-shirt after her bath. She held out the brooch.

Taking it, Eric grinned. “Good thinking, babe.”

Rising, he overtook Martin at the corner of the house.

“Hold up,
hermano
.” Catching Martin’s hand, he pressed Cupid into his brother’s palm. “This might help.”

Martin arched a brow at the golden charm, and closed his fist over it. “Thanks, little brother. I’ll probably need all the help I can get.”

Eric rejoined Destiny, dropping a kiss on her forehead. “Glad you thought of Cupid. Though he’ll likely need more than that to handle Iris.”

“Don’t underestimate
Cupid. He wove magic for us,” Destiny murmured, snuggling against Eric as they watched the Suburban drive past and zoom over the rise.

Martin sat a full five minutes staring at the condo’s lighted window before getting out of the Suburban and knocking on the door. It opened. Iris stood before him, dressed in a lavender silk robe, holding a glass of champagne. His heart didn’t know whether to pound out of his chest or stop completely.

“Well, think of the devil.” She stepped aside and motioned him in. “Have a seat.” She sat on the sofa, tucking up one leg, and patted a spot beside her.

“Implying I’m the devil, eh? I guess that’s not all bad. At least you
were
thinking of me.” Martin sat down and stared at her glass. “What are you doing?”

“Drinking champagne. Care to join me?”

“Why champagne?”

“I like champagne. If I’m going to get drunk, it might as well be on something I like.”

“So that’s what you’re doing, getting drunk?”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing and don’t try to stop me.” She drained her glass and poured more. “Join me? Getting drunk with a companion is lots more fun than getting drunk alone. Your goody-goody brother certainly never would drink with me.”

“Iris, you know why Eric doesn’t drink.”

“So his old man was a drunk. Big deal. Besides, Mr. Eric George Teetotaler certainly managed to toss one down at the birthday party. He did everything but drink it out of her slipper.”

Martin chuckled at the memory. “That wasn’t champagne, my dear.”

“What? But I
saw
him swill Destiny’s champagne when he asked her to dance.”

“You saw him swill her ginger ale. Destiny doesn’t like alcohol.”

She blinked at the news. “Did Eric know it wasn’t champagne?”

“Yep, since he poured it for her.” Another chuckle escaped.

“Oh, laugh, blast you.” Iris hit him half-heartedly with a small pillow. She extended her glass. “More.”

Instead, Martin took the glass from her. “You don’t need this.”

“Don’t tell me what I need,” she snapped, but didn’t fight him. She leaned back and swung her legs up onto the coffee table. Her long slender feet were bare, her toenails painted iridescent pearl. “People can be so stupid, though.”

Martin stared at her. What a long-stemmed beauty. If possible, she’d grown even more beautiful with the passing years. “In what way?” he prompted, caught up in a strong curiosity to see just what she’d say.

“In all ways.” One hand waved in the air. She eyed her glass but didn’t reach for it. “Here I am thirty-three years old. What do I have to show for it? Just a long string of mistakes.” Tears spilled, and she pressed her face against the pillow she’d hit him with.

“Correct them.”

“Ha! Eric told in no uncertain terms that it was too late. Not that he needed to tell me. I knew I was wasting my time when Destiny came on the scene. The way he looked at her . . . believe me, Martin. He
never
looked at me that way, not even way-back-when. But I couldn’t give up. What would I do if I gave up? What’s next?” She peered into Martin’s face. “You have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.”

The total change of subject threw him. “Me?”

“Yes, you. Extraordinary. They look like topazes with that color of shirt you’re wearing.”

He covered her hand with his own, toying with her slender fingers as his heartbeat jumped into overdrive. “Really,” he murmured.

“I’ve always thought you were more handsome than Eric.”

Martin searched her face. “You sure didn’t act like it.”
Did he see sincerity? Even candor? Or did he only imagine what he wanted to see?

“Looks had nothing to do with that madness.”

“Madness,” he echoed with a short laugh. “That’s what you call it?” He turned slightly and propped his elbow on back of the couch. “If I’m so handsome, why did you throw me over for Eric?”

Her fingertips went to her forehead and she closed her eyes, shaking her head. “He just overwhelmed me. He was so . . . alive. And he was so . . .
needy
.”

“Needy?”

“He needed . . . something.” Her hands tried to encompass it. “He’d been off in the army, burnt-out . . . and he fascinated me. I convinced myself it was love.”

“Fine. Then why did you throw
him
over?” He felt tightness gather behind his eyes and his throat ached. This probing reopened the pain, but he couldn’t seem to stop.

“Probably sensed we didn’t fit.” She shrugged, then tensed as if admitting a wicked confession. “No, that’s a lie. My parents, they were livid when they discovered Eric was neither a blood Montoya
or
Carrington. I knew, but they didn’t, and I didn’t tell them. For good reason as it turned out. The Blakes and Ramptons both can trace their bloodlines back to Adam and Eve. An Apache Indian didn’t fit into the family tree. And they assumed he wouldn’t inherit. They pressured me. My father threatened to disown me.”

Martin grunted.

“Don’t
judge
. To top it off, Eric took me to the Bar-M when it was nothing but an abandoned, snake and rat infested pit with a partially collapsed roof and bat guano all over the floor. He expected me to swoon with happiness.”

“That wasn’t the house. It was one of the outbuildings.”

“Whatever. It was a horrid pest hole.” Her mouth tightened and her violet eyes filled with tears again. “When I wasn’t thrilled, he got mad and exploded like a volcano. Swore he planned to live there no matter what. Afterward Daddy bombarded me, painting a grim scenario of Eric inheriting nothing but that rock pile of a ranch and me cut off without a cent. I couldn’t live out there among cactus and rattlesnakes and coyotes.”

Though Martin knew her memory painted a wildly inaccurate nightmare, the vision she created lifted his mouth into a smile. A chuckle escaped. Finally he threw back his head and laughed. “You would’ve deserved it. I almost wish it would’ve happened.” He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, still chuckling.

Iris hit him with the pillow again. “Jerk! Why didn’t you fight for me?” Another wham with the pillow. “You did everything but tie a big red bow around me and
give
me to Eric.”

Martin took his hands away from his face and held them up to protect himself from the flailing pillow. “You made me into a four-sided fool and the biggest idiot in the southwest. I was in
love
with you and made no secret of it, but you trampled right over me to get to my brother.” The laughter drained away, leaving the pain. He clamped his jaws together.

She put the pillow to her face and sobbed. Then she threw it at him. “See what you’re doing to me! I’m a sodden, weepy woman. I
hate
sodden, weepy women.”

Tossing the pillow back, he mumbled, “What about sodden weepy men?” He studied Iris. One hand partially covered her streaming eyes and her pretty white face was blotched and streaked with mascara. He moved closer, put his arm around her, and pulled her head onto his shoulder.

“What now?” She sobbed brokenly against his neck. “If I could just . . . go back. There in Dallas, right in the top of society, life was all so meaningless and boring. When Lee told me about this dig and its location, it felt like an omen. Even though Daddy had sold our ranch, he’d built these condos. I hoped, by returning here, to recapture something I’d lost.” She sighed. “It’s true you can’t go home again. I have no place to go, Martin.”

He stroked her silk-clad arm, deciding to go for it before he chickened out. “I’m returning to the Double Bar-M in a couple of days. Why not come with me? We can ride, go into the city, continue this conversation . . .”

She turned her streaked face up to him. “Do you mean that?”

“Sure I mean it. Stupid of me to fold up and hand you over to Eric, pretend I didn’t care. You didn’t mess things up all by yourself.” He rubbed a tear from her cheek with his thumb, and smiled, noting privately the makeup smear his tender gesture left behind.

“Oh, Martin,” she moaned, replacing her head on his shoulder. “What’s your family going to say if I . . . if we . . .?”

“Good Lord, Iris. I’m nearly thirty-six. They just want me to be happy.”

“Your sister told me after that fiasco I’d better not go near either of her brothers ever again. I think she meant it.”

“My sister’s hot temper was talking. Though I’m sure she meant it then, it’s past history. We’re all a decade older.”

“Don’t remind me.” She slid her arm up around his neck. “I can’t believe you’re here tonight. For
real
. I’ve played the game ‘what if’ over the years. I missed you.”

“I hurt for a long time, Iris. I was the one who told your parents about Eric. I even lied and said he wouldn’t inherit. Down through the years I thought it was my dark secret, but turns out Eric knew all along. My reasons got totally mixed up, blaming our life-long competition, fueled by him taking you away from me. Later I realized he’d never do that, and we made peace. You coming around flared it up again, made Eric touchy. Made me touchy. Even at that, I doubt I would have gone to the Wagon Wheel that night if I’d known I’d see you.”

Iris shook her head. “But you did know. I could tell the moment we spotted each other in the parking lot you expected me.”

“As we drove up he warned me you were in the area and might be there.”

“You acted so pleasant. So in control. So distant. You sent me reeling inside, but I figured you’d wiped me off your list for good. Eric acted differently. When he saw me for that first time at the dig, he reacted with such fury I nearly returned to Dallas right then and there. Instead, I decided that if he showed such an emotional reaction to me, maybe a spark lingered. Then along came Miss Photojournalist, which ended that false hope.”

Iris pulled back, gazing into Martin’s face. “Eric is supposed to be the stoic, emotionless Native American. Oh, he can put on a wooden face all right, but he projects his feelings like a force. You’re the one who hides it all. I’m sure I stumbled all over myself and acted like a fool when I saw you. I was so surprised and you were so nonchalant.”

“Ha!” Martin scoffed. “You didn’t stumble all over yourself. In fact, you acted so charming and cool that I figured I never meant anything to you. Plus, you were chasing Eric again.”

“I didn’t know how to stop.” Iris laid her head back on his shoulder. “I was obsessed, committed. Sometimes we
don’t
get smarter with age at all.”

“True story.”

Iris reached for her pillow weapon again and Martin caught her wrist. “C’mon, beautiful. We’re kindred spirits. Let’s stop beating each other up and call a truce, okay?”

“Truce,” she agreed.

He slipped his other arm around her, nuzzled her hair and kissed her ear, trailing kisses toward her mouth. She dropped the pillow and met his lips with hers.

“Hold that thought,” he said, pulling back and retrieving Cupid from his pocket.

Her eyes widened in surprise as he pinned it to her robe.