Sinister (34 page)

To both Delilah’s relief and dread, Garth untied her from her torturous position, but it was only to strip her of her clothes. When he began to retie her, she tried to talk to him, keep him busy.

“You killed Amber Barstow,” she said, struggling to keep her chattering teeth under control.

“You wanna know all about me, right? So did she.” He smiled.

“Why did you kill her?”

“Because she was there. A stranger. With no ties to me. It was easy. Much easier than getting a Dillinger.” He drew the flat side of the blade along Delilah’s thigh.

“But I’m your cousin. I’m not a stranger.”

“All the Dillingers forgot my mother. Fuckin’ forgot her. Don’t worry, you’re not the only one. You’re just the first. They’ll all die, too.”

“No one forgot Lila.”

The knife was suddenly under her throat. “Don’t lie.” “I—wasn’t.”

“You’ve all been taking care of poor Mia and her fucking backward daughter.”

Your half sister
, Delilah thought, but didn’t say it. Garth was too volatile, too ready to slice into her skin.

“Century Petroleum is mostly a cover,” he said. “Had to go into the oil business like my stepfather, John Unger. Turned out it was useful, when I finally decided to take care of things for Mama. The girl in the bar was just practice, like the coyotes and deer and cats and dogs and rats . . .”

Fear slid an icy finger down her back. “Please . . . don’t . . .” she pleaded when he began to tie her again.

“Please, don’t,” he repeated. “You need to save your begging for later, Delilah. De-li-lah.” His tongue moved around the syllables.

Delilah swallowed, searching her brain for something more to say. Her gaze darted to Hunter, but Garth caught her at it. “Look at him again and I’ll cut him,” Garth snarled. Immediately she shot her gaze back to Garth. “That’s better. You know Mia had to go. The whore. Sucking up all that Dillinger money that should have been my mother’s . . . should have been mine.”

“There’s a lot of money. Ira will give you whatever you want.”

“That’s another lie, Delilah. You’re trying my patience.” Quickly he dropped the knife to retie her hands and feet. She didn’t think she could bear being pulled back again.

“I’m not lying. Ira talked to Lila the other day. He likes her. Someone told her about the wedding . . .”

“I did. And she was pretty upset that she’d been left out.” He pulled on the twine and wrenched her into a bow again. Delilah groaned. “Dessert first,” he whispered, sticking his tongue in her ear.

“Aaayyyyyyyyeeeee!”

From out on the prairie came an ungodly scream. A shriek to the heavens. Garth froze, then swept up his knife, crouched by the door.

“Aaaayyyyeeeeee!”

“Fuckin . . . what?” He opened the door, stepped outside, his hand still on the door for a moment. Then he was gone.

Delilah struggled hard. This was her chance. Her only chance. But she couldn’t do it. The bonds were too tight.

“Hey.”

Her gaze shot around the room in fear, settled on Hunter. His eyes were open. And he was working to untie his legs.

Thank God he was all right! She wanted to yell at him to be careful, to hurry, that she loved him, but she stayed quiet as a church mouse, her gaze darting from Hunter, to the door, to Hunter and back again. His legs were free! She sucked in a breath and then inclined her head to the backpack. Where there was one knife, there could be more. Hunter was ahead of her, already searching for a weapon. Sure enough, he withdrew a wicked-looking blade and he moved to Delilah and sawed her free. As soon as her hands were untied she tried to take the blade to cut him loose, but it slipped from her cold, frozen fingers. She picked it up, tried again.

The door flung open and Garth stumbled in with a roar of fury. He charged at Hunter, who drove his knee into Garth’s gut. Garth fell forward and Hunter’s knee came back covered in blood.

“She stabbed me . . . she stabbed me . . .” Garth garbled.

Delilah looked at Hunter, who’d staggered back away from Garth and was again trying to cut his hands free. She looked at Garth, who was curled over himself on the floor. And then she looked to the open door where Kit stood, holding a blood-stained knife in front of her.

“He killed my mother,” she said.

Christmas morning the scents of cinnamon and frying bacon filled the kitchen as Ricki pulled the rolls from the oven and Nell lifted the sizzling pan off the stove. Delilah was peeling kiwis and adding them to the glass bowl already layered with oranges, blueberries and red grapes.

Looking up from her task, Delilah watched Jen serve coffee to the adults and hot chocolate to the kids. Jen had decided to stay on in Prairie Creek after all, now that both Georgina and Tom Unger were in jail. She’d returned to the lodge with her kids and apparently with Tyler, who seemed to be making a greater effort than before. Maybe it would work out, maybe it wouldn’t. Since Mrs. Mac was spending the holiday with her family, they were all pitching in to make a Christmas brunch to remember.

Ira was seated in his chair in the great room and Jen strolled over to give him a refill. She began laughing and talking to him in her suck-up way, which made Delilah smile. Colton noticed and smiled as well, and both of them ignored their father when Ira lifted his eyes and sent them a “please save me” look. Tyler, who’d been making Irish coffees and was following after his wife, gave Colton and Delilah long-suffering looks, which changed their smiles into out-and-out laughter.

They’d forgotten to get a Christmas tree in the midst of the wedding plans, and with everything that had occurred, it was Christmas Eve before Colton, Sabrina, Rourke, Brook, Tyler, Justin and Haley set off to find one. Gifts that had been purchased prior to Pilar’s death were suddenly remembered, dragged out from their hiding places and quickly wrapped and put under the tree. There was a mad dash into town to buy new gifts, which had resulted in some completely useless items that nobody needed or wanted and yet everyone loved. The leftover wrapping littered the floor, and Brook’s white kitten was jumping in and out of the rustling paper.

Delilah accepted one of the Irish coffees, bringing it to her lips. Ira had gotten a team of construction workers to repair the damage in his bedroom, and though there was still painting to be done, the charred scent that had permeated the air was gone, and all the damaged walls and flooring had been removed. All in all, there was a sense of new beginnings.

The doorbell rang, and Sam and Sabrina arrived at the same time. Delilah watched as they were greeted warmly by Ricki and Colton. She’d invited Hunter to join their brunch, and he’d said he might swing by later, but with all the revelations about Georgina she knew that was a long shot. It might be too early for him to drop in on the Dillingers, though Delilah wasn’t going to wait much longer before she revealed that she and Hunter were definitely a couple.

Rourke ran to meet Sabrina, binding himself to both Colt and Sabrina as the three of them had a group hug. Colton ruffled his son’s hair and Sabrina slid her arm affectionately around Rourke’s back. Delilah felt those same treacherous tears burn her eyes at the sight of their newly formed family. Colt had told her he was planning to stay in Prairie Creek and was going to ask Sabrina to marry him.

Ricki asked Sam, “Where’s Davis? You did ask him to come, right?”

“He’s trying to talk Kit into joining us, so who knows,” Sam said.

Though she’d saved the day, Kit had shied away from joining the Dillingers in their Christmas celebration. She’d been bringing back stray sheep from Dillinger property to the Kincaids when she’d stumbled across Garth’s newest lair. She’d been in the process of returning back to tell Davis, when she’d seen the lights of Garth’s truck. Apparently, he’d never driven all the way to the cabins before, but with both Hunter and Delilah in the back, he’d pulled right up. She hadn’t seen him haul Hunter and Delilah inside at first, but when she’d gotten a peek through the window, she’d stepped away and let out her war cry. When Garth came into the dark, she waited for him to get near and then attacked him.

“What’s the story with Kit and Davis?” Ira asked, climbing out of his chair and walking toward them, away from Jen. “Should I be talking to your brother about a few things?”

“Go right ahead,” Sam said with a smile. “Don’t think their relationship’s like that, but it wouldn’t hurt to put him on notice.”

“Family,” Ira said.

Family . . .
The room went quiet for a moment and Delilah suspected that, like her, all of them were thinking about Garth Thomas Dillinger. He was family, too. Ira had placed a call to Lila to tell her about her son’s arrest, and had gleaned through Lila’s tears more about Garth’s troubled past. He’d tortured and killed animals from a young age, and when they’d caught him skinning a rabbit before it was dead, Lila’s husband had put his foot down, seeking psychological help for the young boy. The therapy appeared to work in the beginning; at least they never caught him again. Garth went through school and was well-liked and popular, but he never had a girlfriend. He followed his stepfather into the oil business and everything seemed fine. The only blip on the radar was that he’d listened to his mother’s accounts of his real father’s infidelity, and by the time he was in his teens had developed a deep, abiding hatred for both Mia Collins and all of the Dillingers, especially the women. But that was high school, and when he was older, there’d been no further mention of the Dillingers at all. Lila had believed it was just a phase of teen angst that he’d gotten over. She hadn’t even recalled his threats by the time he moved to Wyoming, and when he’d called and told her Ira was marrying Pilar, all she’d thought was how upset she was that she and her family weren’t invited.

Brook sidled up to Delilah. “Are you going back to Hollywood when Aunt Jen and Uncle Tyler leave tomorrow?” she asked anxiously.

“No, actually, I’m planning to stick around. I like it here.”

The look of horror on Brook’s face made Delilah laugh. But then Brook broke into a smile herself and said, “If you stay, then I’ll stay.”

“Glad to hear it,” Ricki said dryly.

“But I’m moving to New York as soon as I turn eighteen,” she added quickly, looking around as if she’d been caught in some nefarious act.

They sat down to breakfast around the huge dining room table just as an enormous dark cloud darkened the sky and then snow started to fall. Delilah watched the drifting flakes and listened to the hum of chatter around her. She looked down the table at her father, who was once again getting his ear bent by Jen, seated on his right. Ira wasn’t the kind of man to be without a woman for long, so even though he’d been sad and bereaved at the small memorial service for Pilar overseen by Reverend Landon, she believed he would be back on the dating scene very soon. He’d been slightly flattered by Georgina’s obsession and attention, no matter what he said to the contrary.

The doorbell rang again.

Hunter!

“I’ll get it.” Delilah jumped up and hurried to the front door. Sure enough, Hunter stood outside wearing his jeans, boots, a fleece-lined jacket and a brown Stetson. He was holding a large manila envelope, but he pulled Delilah into his arms and dragged her outside, kicking the door shut behind her.

“Don’t you want to see my family?”

“Not yet,” he said.

“Chicken.”

He grinned, his blue eyes filled with warmth. She kissed him hard on the mouth, then pulled back to look at him. “What have you got there?” she asked, nodding to the envelope.

“DNA.”

“What?” She stared at the envelope with growing dread. What did this mean?

“Before he died, my father told me to go see a specific lawyer, Berkley Price. When I did, Price gave me this. He’d held the results at his office per the Major’s wish.” Opening the envelope, he slid out the contents. “Turns out my father had DNA tests done on all his children. He always suspected Georgina had an affair with your father, so when it became just a matter of swabbing a cheek to get DNA and sending it in, he started collecting samples.”

“But you’re not—”

“Nope. Ira was telling the truth about me.”

Now she gazed curiously at the printouts. “Georgina didn’t know?”

“None of us knew. He actually got a sample of my blood from when I cut my arm once when I was screwing around with Blair in the backyard. I don’t even remember it, but he got me tested.”

“And you’re not a Dillinger.”

“I’m a Kincaid.”

“But . . .”

“Alexandra isn’t the Major’s daughter.”

Delilah gasped. “Is she Ira’s?”

“Well, she’s the only one of us with red in her hair. I’m going to give her a call and suggest she check. Or maybe I should drop this bomb on her in person.”

“I need to tell Dad that he might need to give a DNA sample, too. Wow. That’s going to be . . . a little bit of hell. He reacted so warmly to the idea that you might be his.”

Hunter choked out a laugh. “I should also tell you that I’m taking over the ranch. My mother’s practically let it go to ruin, and it’s what my father wanted, so I’m going to try to bring it back, without the half-assed cabins in the back. I’m trying to get through to Blair. I’d like him to come back and help. Mom doesn’t want to give up control to any of us, but she doesn’t really have a say anymore.”

“So, she just said what she said because she knew or guessed about Alexandra and just wanted to torture us.”

“My mother’s a master at stealing ideas. The old homestead was because of the drifter. The two fires on Dillinger property were because of Garth burning the church. The lie about me . . . the rumor ... was because of Alexandra.”

“Prairie Creek is a dangerous place to live,” Delilah said.

“If I were smart, I’d hightail it back to Santa Monica as fast as I could.” She smiled. “Good thing I’m not that smart.”

He laughed. “You’re planning on sticking around then.” “That’s the idea.”

“So, what are you doing with the rest of your life?” he asked casually.

“Well, I don’t know. I’d like to find some kind of job. Not a wedding planner. Something else. Oh, and I want to have a child. Soon. Very soon. As soon as I can. In fact, I’m already hoping I’m pregnant, although I really haven’t had a chance to talk to the potential father about any of this.”

“A child ... huh.” He rubbed his chin pensively.

“That’s right.”

“A Dillinger/Kincaid child.”

“Yes.”

“Would you . . . also say yes to marriage?”

She searched his face to see if he was serious. “Is this a proposal?”

“Kinda sounds like one.”

“Then, yes. Yes, I would say yes.” Feeling bold, she added, “And I kinda think there may be a few weddings coming up. Ricki and Sam . . . Colton and Sabrina . . . any chance we could be first?”

“A Kincaid, beating out Dillingers . . .” he mused. “How about New Year’s Eve?”

“Yes,” she said again, wrapping her arms around him tightly and sealing the deal with a kiss.