A Baby Changes Everything (8 page)

Why would he kill someone he didn't even know?

Being at the top had its rewards; he would be the first to admit that. But it certainly had its shortcomings, too. Maybe it was the work of these headaches, but lately, it seemed to him that while everyone looked up to you, they wanted to see you taken down. If not all the way, then at least several pegs.

As if by having you come down, they could somehow rise up themselves.

Ryan closed his eyes and frowned. The dark thought was foreign to him. He didn't normally dwell in these nether regions.

It had to be the headaches. They were making him think like this. Like someone he didn't know.

He couldn't help wondering if, as the townspeople and police officers believed, he was related somehow to that poor, unfortunate man who'd met his end somewhere around here.

What if it was another one of Cameron's seed? God knew his late brother had enjoyed dallying with as many women as he had time for.

Ryan opened his eyes again and sighed. The headache was still pounding, making him nauseated with its intensity. He supposed he was going to have to bite the bullet and go to see the doctor, but God, he hated to be poked and prodded.

Worse than that, he'd always been a firm believer that no news was good news, at least as far as health was concerned. What if the news was bad? What if these headaches were indicative of something that time, patience and the best medical care that money could buy wouldn't erase?

What if there was no way to cure the cause of the problem?

Ryan ran his hand along his forehead again, impatience taking hold. Damn it, this wasn't like him. That kind of attitude would have never allowed him to come as far as he had.

To be the man that he was.

The man, he reminded himself, that his Lily loved. Ryan focused on his blessings. He had a good family and finally had the woman his heart had always belonged to.

What more could a man wish for?

Besides a way to get rid of these damn headaches, he thought sarcastically.

There was a soft knock on the door. So soft that he was tempted to ignore it. But his secretary wasn't the kind to intrude on his time unless it was absolutely necessary.

“Come in.” He didn't raise his voice, afraid that would exacerbate his headache.

The door opened. His secretary looked both annoyed and distressed. The annoyance intensified as she glanced
over her shoulder, while keeping the door firmly ajar so that only her face was visible to her employer.

“I am sorry to bother you, Mr. Fortune, but there are two people from the Red Rock Police Department to see you. Do you want me to send them away?” She sounded almost eager for his permission.

Ryan smiled, appreciating the woman's fierce loyalty. Other people might whisper, but the core of supportive staff, family and friends he kept around himself didn't. And when he came right down to it, that was all that was really important—the people he cared about.

He beckoned her forward. “No, that's all right. Show them in.”

His decision met with his secretary's obvious disapproval, even though she inclined her head. “Very well, Mr. Fortune.”

The next moment, she opened the door all the way and stood back, admitting Officer Gabe Thunderhawk and Detective Andrea Matthews.

Andrea approached him first, nodding a greeting, as formal as she had been the last time they'd met, in the coroner's office.

“You're a hard man to get hold of, Mr. Fortune,” she said, sitting down in the seat Ryan indicated.

Gabe followed suit, although in Ryan's judgment, the man looked as if he would be more comfortable standing.

“I'm a very busy man, Detective,” Ryan replied.

Andrea was pleased that Ryan Fortune didn't minimize her rank, the way some other people she'd dealt with had. Still, this might just be the man's way of falsely putting her at her ease so that she was liable to miss something.

Wasn't going to happen, she thought. If Ryan Fortune
was somehow involved in the death of the unidentified man who had washed up on shore, then his position in the community notwithstanding, she was going to nail him for it.

She had too much to prove not to.

It took everything for Ryan to carry on a regular conversation and not wince from the pain. The headache stubbornly refused to abate. His own voice seemed to echo in his head, scraping against the inside of his skull.

Maybe he just needed a prescription for a stronger headache tablet, he told himself. Something for migraines.

The thought heartened him slightly.

“We've been able to digitally enhance that birthmark on our victim,” Andrea informed him.

Ryan barely nodded. Vanessa had called him about her own visit from the police. She'd been furious for him, bless her. It had taken him a while to calm her down. “So I've heard.”

Andrea leaned forward. “Then you must have also heard that, from what we can see, it appears to be identical to yours.”

“I'm having that looked into.” He didn't like the idea of an unknown connection between himself and the dead man any more than the police apparently did. Except that he knew he was innocent.

“Maybe you could share that information when you get it,” Gabe suggested politely, before Andrea could say anything. It earned him an annoyed look from the detective.

“Count on it.” Opening the drawer, Ryan took out the aspirin bottle again and downed two more pills.

Andrea looked at the bottle he was holding. “Something bothering you, Mr. Fortune?”

“Just a nasty headache.” He shut the bottle back in the
drawer and rose to his feet. “I have a board meeting to get to, so if there are no further questions…” He left his sentence hanging as he walked to the door and opened it.

Andrea stood up and crossed the room, albeit none too happily. “We'll be in touch,” she said as she passed him.

He inclined his head ever so slightly. “I'm sure you will. Goodbye, Detective. Officer.”

He closed the door firmly behind them and took a deep breath. He had exactly twenty minutes to pull himself together before the board meeting. With any luck, the headache should be abating by then.

He could only hope.

“B
ut why can't I come?”

Luke trailed after his mother, his arms wrapped around the bottom of the tent she was bringing in from the garage. His lower lip was stuck out in a pout as he unceremoniously dropped his end of the tent on the living room floor.

Savannah carefully parked the tent out of the way beside the sofa. Taking a breath, she looked down at her son.

“Because you're going to have more fun with Aunt Vanessa. She and Uncle Devin are going to take you to the amusement park and to the movies, and knowing Aunt Vanessa, I'd guess she's probably going to let you stay up as late as you like instead of hustling you off to bed the way that your father and I do.” Savannah had thrown in mention of Cruz because she wanted Luke to think of them as a united front. In truth, Cruz hadn't been home for the boy's bedtime in a while now, ever since the pace had picked up on the ranch.

The information made Luke break out in a big smile, immediately erasing the pout from his lips.

“Okay, I'll go,” he announced.

“I thought you might change your mind.” Savannah leaned over and ruffled his hair.

Looking around, she surveyed the living room. It was filled with all kinds of camping supplies. She'd been depositing gear in the living room in preparation for the weekend ever since Cruz had okayed the idea. She wanted to be sure they had everything they were going to need to make the two days and nights as comfortable as possible.

Unlike some people who went camping, Cruz didn't believe in taking a camper out into the wilderness. To him, that was cheating. He liked doing it the way his ancestors had, with a bedroll spread out beneath the stars. It was all Savannah could do to convince him that a sleeping bag would be better than a blanket tossed on the hard ground.

The tent, she knew, was going to require a little finessing on her part. But taking it along was important to her. She was just going to have to convince him about it.

She heard the back door open and then close. Cruz, she thought with a smile. Even though this was officially the beginning of their weekend, he'd wanted to personally feed the new horses and clean them, including the one he was going to be keeping, Diablo.

He did it for bonding purposes, and she knew it was important to him, so she'd said nothing when he'd walked out early this morning. Anticipating this, she'd told Vanessa not to come for Luke until after nine.

She heard the water running in the kitchen. Cruz had stopped for a drink. “Savannah?” he called.

“In the living room,” she answered, then braced herself.

He didn't disappoint her.

“What's that?” he asked as soon as he walked into the room. Cruz moved the end of the tent with his boot and looked at her quizzically.

The item was new. She'd deliberately gone into Red Rock for it yesterday and had the clerk load it on the truck for her. She and Luke had taken it out of the box before she'd carried it into the garage and hidden it behind the aluminum ladder Cruz used when he painted the house.

She pushed her hands into the front pockets of her jeans and rocked back on her heels. “It's a tent.”

He raised his eyes to hers. “I can see that. What's it doing here?”

“Lying on the floor,” Luke answered, then covered his mouth as he stifled a giggle. “Mama and me dragged it in from the garage.”

“Mama and I,” Savannah corrected, the teacher in her unable to leave the sentence alone.

Cruz was still eyeing her, waiting for a real explanation. “Whose is it?”

She took a deep breath. “Ours.”

He sighed, hooking his thumbs on the loops of his jeans, looking down at the tightly wrapped tan object as if it were a trussed-up deadly snake he was trying to figure out what to do with. He had never owned a tent, never made use of one. And he had no intentions of starting now.

“Savannah, you know how I feel about sleeping in a tent. You might as well be sleeping in a camper—or back home in your own bedroom.”

“Not quite,” she countered. She thought he carried his convictions a little to the extreme. She glanced at their son, who seemed to be all ears, listening to every word. What
she had to say didn't need any witnesses, especially not a pint-size one. “Luke, why don't you go up to your room and make sure you've got everything for your stay at Aunt Vanessa's?”

“'Kay.” Like a tornado, Luke dashed out of the room and ran up the stairs. She heard the sound of his small boots overhead as he reached his bedroom seconds later.

Even with him out of earshot, Savannah still lowered her voice. She nodded at the tent. “We don't have to sleep in it.”

Cruz's dark eyebrows knitted together. “Then why bring it?”

Did she have to spell it out for him? “Because we can use it when we…you know.”

For a second, Cruz didn't know. And then he looked at her, amused. Married five years and she could still blush. “Make love, you mean?”

“Yes.” She cleared her throat. “I thought we could use it for…privacy.”

His amusement grew. “Who's going to see us? The owls?”

She lifted her shoulders and let them fall again. “You never know.” There might be other campers in the area, or hikers. She didn't want to take any chances. Savannah decided to turn the focus back on him. “I thought you were such a private man.”

“Yes, I am. About the stuff that goes on between us, not about…this.” His eyes skimmed over her form and he laughed. He came up behind her as she sorted out a few things to be put in their backpacks. Cruz could feel himself getting in the mood even though they had yet to load a single thing onto the truck. He put his hands on her
shoulders. “What you're talking about is as natural as the stars themselves.” He turned her around to face him. “A warm campfire, a beautiful woman. A man who's way overdue,” he admitted with a sexy grin as he verbally painted the scenario for her. “As natural as the stars above,” he repeated.

Savannah sighed. Maybe she'd become a little too prudish these days. After all, the first time they had made love was in the stable on Ryan Fortune's property. There'd been a party going on at the house, and any number of people could have walked in on them.

She hadn't cared then. And she wanted to get back to a time like that. Desperately.

Cruz kissed the side of her neck, making wonderful things happen inside of her. Anticipation went up another notch.

If he kept this up, she thought, they wouldn't need to go anywhere. She was going to attack him right here where they stood.

“The tent stays home,” she agreed with a deep sigh.

“That's my girl.” He laughed and put his arms around her, drawing her closer to him. He took comfort in the way they easily fit together. “You know, I'm glad you came up with this idea.”

Her eyes sparkled as she said, “Yeah, me, too.”

Reading the look in his eyes, she inclined her head. But the kiss that was to come was aborted by the sound of pounding footsteps overhead.

As he came flying down the stairs, Luke's feet resonated as if he were at least twice as heavy as he was. He made it from his bedroom to the living room in less than ten seconds.

“Aunt 'Nessa's here!” he announced at the top of his
lungs. He came to a skidding halt when he saw his parents together. His face contorted. “Ugh, yucky stuff.” There was no missing the condemnation before he dashed to the front door.

With a touch of reluctance, Savannah disentangled herself from Cruz. “He should be very grateful for ‘yucky stuff.' If it wasn't for that, that little man wouldn't be here.”

Hurrying from the living room, Savannah made it to the front door a beat after Luke. The boy had already pulled it open.

Savannah did her best to look reproving, if not angry. “What did I tell you about opening the door when you hear someone knocking?” she chided.

“But it's Aunt 'Nessa,” he protested. “I saw her from the window in my room. You said that about strangers. Aunt 'Nessa's not a stranger.”

“Got you there,” Cruz called out.

“Some support you are,” Savannah said over her shoulder.

Walking into the house, Vanessa grinned. She ruffled the boy's hair with affection. “So you were watching for me, handsome?”

Luke laughed, his dark eyes dancing. “I was looking for my stuff. Mama wanted me to make sure I didn't leave anything behind.”

“Can't have that,” Vanessa agreed. And then she leaned toward him and confided, “Wouldn't want you to get bored.”

Coming forward, Cruz brushed a swift kiss on Vanessa's cheek by way of greeting. “You know what you're letting yourself in for?” The question was voiced only half in jest.

“Fun,” she answered without hesitation.

“Fun, huh?” Cruz looked dubiously at Savannah. “You said she was here when Luke jumped through the coffee table?”

Savannah nodded. “She was here.”

He laughed and shook his head as he turned back to Vanessa. “You've got nerves of steel, woman,” he told her.

“I'm a Fortune,” she answered. Though it was an amiable conversation, there was no missing the pride in her voice. “We're bred to put up with everything.”

“Speaking of which,” Savannah interjected, switching gears, “how is your father handling all this body business?”

Luke's waning interest was suddenly piqued. “There's a body?” he asked, his eyes as big as proverbial saucers. “What body? Whose body?” His head moved back and forth from one adult to the next so fast, his straight dark hair swung about his head like a silky black curtain swaying in the wind.

“We're raising him to be an investigative reporter,” Savannah quipped as she looked at her friend.

“I can see why.” Vanessa laughed.

“No body,” Cruz told Luke firmly, using a tone that Luke was familiar with. It brooked no nonsense, no trivial queries.

Luke shoved his small hands into his back pockets, looking dejected.

Vanessa had a feeling that Cruz was attempting to spare her. She knew this wouldn't be the end of the boy's questions. Those would go on until he had answers he was satisfied with.

“Just some stranger who was in Lake Mondo,” Vanessa told him.

Clearly she was the one with the answers, so Luke aligned himself with her. “Who is he?” he pressed.

Vanessa raised her shoulders in an exaggerated shrug. “He didn't say.”

Luke frowned, cocking his head just the way his mother did when she was pondering something, Vanessa thought. “Can't you make him talk?”

“No.” Although amused at his tenacity, she was beginning to realize that in placating the boy, she'd launched herself onto a slippery slope. What would it take to get him to abandon the subject?

“Betcha you could,” Luke countered suddenly, a sunny smile lighting up his small face. “You could make anyone say anything.”

Vanessa looked at Savannah over the boy's head. “I think I've just been flirted with.” She laughed again.

“It's the fatal Perez male charm,” Savannah told her, glancing over her shoulder at her husband. “It starts young.”

“You forget, I grew up with Cruz.” Vanessa winked at her friend, indicating that the remark was just as harmless as it seemed. Not for the world would she have Savannah thinking that there had ever been anything beyond friendship between her and the man her father had once employed as a horse whisperer. “I've already been forewarned.” And then, dismissing the subject, she glanced toward the spot where the coffee table had been. A small folding card table stood there now. “I see you got rid of the evidence.”

Cruz had carted it out of the house the next day. “My brother-in-law says he can make us a new one,” he told her.

“That's good.” She saw the look on Savannah's face.
Her friend was anxious to get started. Not that she blamed her. Vanessa glanced down at Luke. “Well, what do you say we get going, handsome?”

Rather than take the hand she extended to him, Luke grabbed the suitcase his mother had helped him pack last night. With his other arm, he clutched several of his toys. One slipped out and he tried again, this time with more success.

“Okay!” he called out.

Vanessa laughed at the comical figure he made as Savannah went to help her son make a more graceful exit.

Just then there was a loud knock on the front door. It wasn't a polite tapping, but one that demanded immediate attention.

And then, as if unable to wait, the person on the other side turned the knob and swung the door open.

It was Jaime, the youngest of the hands and the most recently hired. His eyes had a frantic look as they scanned the room, searching for Cruz. The second he saw him, he blurted out, “Boss, we got trouble.”

Savannah immediately stiffened. Every syllable the young ranch hand uttered pounded a stake farther into her heart.

“What's wrong?” she asked, before Cruz had a chance to say anything.

The young man's head bobbed up and down in a delayed but polite acknowledgment of both her and Vanessa. Belatedly, he stripped his sweat-stained hat from his head as an added sign of respect.

The words tumbled from his lips like white-water rapids in the river. “We dunno how it happened—”

“How what happened?” Cruz demanded. If he didn't make the man begin at the beginning, who knew how long it would take to untangle what he was saying?

“Hank's a good rider,” Jaime babbled, as if defending the other man.

Cruz saw fear and confusion mounting in Jaime's blue eyes. He grabbed the younger man by the shoulders, as if the very action could help him focus.

“What happened?” Cruz repeated sternly.

With great effort, Jaime pulled himself together. Now the words flew from his mouth like bullets. “His horse spooked,” he cried. “Hank fell off—except that his foot was stuck in the stirrup. His horse ran and Hank was dragged. We got to him as fast as we could—”