Authors: Jennifer Ryan
Tags: #Contemporary, #Romance, #Cowboy, #Suspense, #Fiction
T
he oil lamp’s bright flame lit Ella’s face across from him. Gabe studied the light and shadows as they shifted and changed her beautiful face, trying to figure out what it was about her that held his attention and made him yearn with a need he’d never felt for anyone. They’d spent the last three days cooped up in the house, snow falling so hard outside it had become treacherous to even make it out to the barn to feed the horses.
Distracting Ella from her dark thoughts had become his pleasure and torture. He wanted to get closer to her, but held himself back, knowing this thing crackling between them, hot as the flames in the fireplace, would never go any further than the short time she’d be here. Once she uncovered all her uncle’s secrets, she’d walk out of his life.
Gabe tried every second to block out the fantasy Ella would ever want a country kind of life. No way he’d turn this place into a cage that held her from the city life she already lived in New York. He’d been down that road and had the road rash on his heart to prove that asking someone to go against who they are and what they wanted only ended in a tangle of wreckage.
“I raise you fifty cents.”
Ella tossed two quarters on the coffee table between them. The fireplace at her back, legs folded in front of her under the table. When he shifted forward from bracing his back against the couch, their knees touched. Her eyes dilated with awareness and arousal. The same way they did whenever he accidentally touched her. He tried not to, but the pull between them was like a black hole, sucking them together.
Sometimes he had to touch her to draw her out of the quiet solitude that pulled her away from him and reality. With each passing hour, trapped in the house with nothing to do but think about her dead sister and how she’d gotten no further in taking down her uncle, her mood turned as gray as the gloomy sky. He didn’t like those long periods she sat alone, her thoughts turned inward and her lovely eyes filled with so much hurt, loss, and sadness, his heart ached along with hers. Like they shared the same pulse.
Gabe checked his cards, figured she probably had better than his pair of sixes, but tossed in two quarters anyway. The girl knew how to play poker better than anyone he’d ever met. “Call.”
She set her cards on the table with a smirk. “Three queens. Beat that.”
“As usual, you’ve got me.” He tossed his cards facedown.
“I can’t possibly be whipping you this badly. You’re losing on purpose just to make me feel better.”
Ella turned the cards over. Her gaze swept up his chest and face to meet his. The heat spread through him, beckoned him to draw her close, kiss her, and feel the fire spread and make them both burn. He didn’t move, but savored that tense moment they shared staring at each other, both knowing what the other wanted, but not willing to make that leap. Not yet. But how long could he hold out? If he gave in, would he ever be able to let go? No. So he held himself back.
“Wow.” She shook her head before letting out a chuckle. “You really are a horrible cardplayer.”
That made him laugh. “Normally, I’m the one sweeping the pot my way. I should take you to Vegas, give you some money, and let you win me some big bucks to cover my recent losses.”
“Anytime you want to go, I’m in.”
“If it meant you’d be safe, I’d take you right now.”
Her gaze went to the windows and the snow falling in a cascade of white flakes.
“I feel as though I’ve been cocooned in here these last days. Safe. Protected. I think about what will happen when the storm passes, I find the evidence, and I emerge. What happened changed me. I’m no longer Ella, Lela’s twin. I’m just me, and I don’t know who that person is without her.”
Gabe reached across the table and took her hand. His thumb swept over the back of hers in a hypnotic sweep of his skin against hers. The warmth of it seeped into her skin and spread up her arm and through her whole body and deep into her heart.
Sometimes a simple touch holds more meaning than any words offered to fill the space that remains empty no matter what is said. Sometimes having someone beside you in the quiet solitude is enough.
Sometimes all you need is a friend who knows you, sees you, cares enough to be with you when there really is nothing left to say.
Gabe had become that person for her over the last few days. Such a short time for them to settle into such an easy relationship. One that felt old, comfortable, like they’d read each other’s souls and said,
I remember you
.
Gabe rose, keeping her hand in his, and pulled her up. He leaned down and blew out the lamp’s flame. The fire had dwindled to red and black coals. Just enough to cast a soft glow over the hearth. With no other light, she depended on Gabe to lead her through the house he knew even in the dark. He stopped beside her outside her bedroom door. Like the last three nights, the connection they shared sparked like lightning up a Jacob’s ladder.
They stood inches apart, her hand held in his. Neither of them breathed. They stared at each other in the dark, wanting, needing the other, but neither of them moved.
Gabe leaned in, his mouth a breath from hers, but he stopped, his eyes searching hers in the dimness that could hold their secrets if only they’d give them up, give in to this desire pulsing between them.
Gabe pushed the door open behind her, released her hand, and stepped back still staring at her for a heartbeat. Two. Then he turned and walked down the hall to his room and closed the door between them.
She crawled into her cold, empty bed. She wanted to go to him. Be with him, but that wasn’t fair. To either of them. He didn’t want to take advantage of her grief. She wasn’t sure what she felt went beyond needing his comfort and strength to see her through these dark days.
The thought of never being held by him in the night, never knowing what it felt like to make love with him made her heart ache. When this was over, could she leave, go back to her life and run the company, never knowing?
No.
Because it was more than attraction. Gabe was a man worth knowing. He was a man worth taking a chance on.
P
hillip answered his cell phone on the first ring. “Tell me the reward worked and you found her,” he barked to the detective.
“We’ve received numerous calls, but nothing checks out. The surveillance videos are taking too long to go through, so I came down to the company to check out Lela’s computer. I found an odd calendar entry for Montana.”
The library walls closed in on him. “What?”
If Lela and Ella went to the ranch, they might have discovered the missing paintings and cattle business. Impossible that they found anything more—unless they discovered the sale of the property. He’d undersold it by a substantial sum. He needed the cash. Bribes to grease wheels were expensive, and he lived a rather extravagant lifestyle. His mistress cost a fortune, but she was well worth it. He’d finally found someone who understood what he needed and liked. The money he gave her and the apartment he maintained to keep her set him back plenty, but he didn’t care. He deserved her.
“Why would she have a meeting scheduled with a mechanic in Montana? There’s no name, just an address.”
Phillip’s stomach tightened with dread. He slammed his fist down on the desk and swore. So Lela had found it all.
“Hire men to check that address and the ranch property for Ella. Send them immediately. Find that fucking mechanic. Find Ella. Kill them both.”
“Consider it done.”
G
abe parked in the dilapidated mobile home’s driveway. As promised, he’d check out the “mechanic’s” place and find out who really lived here before he went to the property owner, Mr. Wright, asking questions. He didn’t want to bring Lela’s name into it and cause any suspicions that would lead the cops straight to Ella.
A car engine drew his attention down the short driveway. The mail truck lumbered along the road and stopped at the line of mailboxes. Gabe rushed down the drive to intercept the mailman.
“Howdy,” the mailman called, stepping from the truck, his hands loaded with mail.
“Hey there. Do you know who lives here?”
The mailman’s eyes went soft and his gaze drifted to the beige mobile home. “This is ol’ Jarrod Finney’s place. Too bad what he done to himself.”
“What happened?” Gabe asked, trying not to sound overeager for the answer.
“Shot himself dead. I tell you, I never seen nothing like it.”
“You found him?”
The mailman frowned and stared off in the distance. “Mail was piling up in the box, so I went up to check on him. He’d been dead a couple days by then. Smelled something terrible. I called the cops out. They took care of him from there. Must have been all those medical bills piling up. I don’t know what he had, but the bills just kept on coming. Must have been too terrible a burden for him, especially after his wife was found shot dead in some seedy motel room outside of Bozeman.”
“When did that happen?”
“Oh, years ago. Probably ten or more now.”
“What did Mr. Finney do for work?”
“As far as I know, he didn’t work much at all anymore, but once he was a mechanic. He said something about working at the airport when his wife was killed.”
Gabe sucked in a breath. Not an auto mechanic. An airplane mechanic.
He needed to get back to Ella, so they could zero in on Jarrod Finney. Gabe didn’t believe in coincidences. Ten years ago, Stuart Wolf’s plane crashed.
Gabe’s mind spun with questions and speculations.
“Thank you for the information.” Gabe left the mailman to finish putting the mail in the line of mailboxes and hightailed it back to his truck. Scrapes on the front door by the knob caught his attention. Maybe they were from the police getting into the place after Mr. Finney took his life. Maybe not.
Gabe climbed the wood steps. They creaked and bowed under his weight. He went to the dirty window, cupped his hands on the grimy glass, and looked in. Mail and papers littered the dining table and floor. The kitchen cupboards stood open, the contents pulled out and tossed on the counter and floor along with the papers. Drawers hung from their openings or sat stacked and battered on the floor. The living room had suffered the same ransacking as the kitchen. He bet the back bedrooms hadn’t fared much better. Not messy housekeeping. Not the cops. Phillip’s men had been here. They were closing in. He needed to get back home to Ella.
He ran for the truck and jumped into the cab. He turned the key, revved the engine, and threw the truck into drive. He rolled down the driveway, turned onto the road, and pointed the truck toward home. Toward Ella.
A black Escalade pulled out of a side road and onto the road behind him. His gut tightened with dread. Too far back to see his plate, but way too close for comfort.
Gabe hit the gas, lengthening the distance between him and what had to be Phillip’s men. He took a long, roundabout way to the back road that led across the south side of his ranch and allowed him a clear view of the road behind him and Wolf Road ahead. All clear.
No way he’d lead them to her.
Ella sat at
the dining room table, staring out the window. Today, though the sky might have cleared, her mood remained as turbulent as the storm that passed.
Gabe came up behind her, smelling of hay, horses, and the cold, crisp wind outside. He’d been a beacon in her dark world, drawing her close, teasing, and coaxing her out of her moods. Still, living with the sexy rancher made her palms itch to touch him. Just looking at all those rippling muscles made her want to crawl up him and kiss him. That thick mass of hair made her want to slide her fingers through it and grab hold and never let go until their bodies came together and burned up all this pent-up desire building inside her the longer she spent in his company.
Did the man have to look that good in a pair of jeans and boots?
She thought about the almost kiss when he left her at her bedroom door last night. The way he looked at her and made her feel. She wanted to kiss him right now, just to feel his lips pressed against hers again.
She gave in to need and her heart’s demand and stood and wrapped her arms around him. “Are you okay?”
“Fine.” The word didn’t match the way he squeezed her to him and the sigh of relief he let out.
“You’re not telling me something. What happened?”
He hesitated and held her tighter. “I almost got caught by your uncle’s men.”
She gasped out her surprise. “What? No.” She stepped out of his arms, wishing she’d stayed enclosed in all that strength and protection. “Did they see you?” Worry knotted her gut.
“I took the long way home, up the back pass. No one followed me.”
“You’re sure.”
“Yes. I’d never let anything happen to you.”
“What did you find?” she asked, still peeved Gabe had refused to let her accompany him to follow up on the only clue her sister left in Montana.
“A man named Jarrod Finney lived at the address you gave me. He wasn’t an auto mechanic, but an airplane mechanic. He worked at the Bozeman airport. The mailman didn’t have a lot of information on the man, but he did say that Mr. Finney’s wife was found dead in a motel room about ten years ago.”
Ella’s heart lurched as pain gave way to fury. The coldhearted bastard ripped away all her happiness and everyone she loved. She wanted to put him down like a rabid dog.
“My father’s crash was no accident.” In the last few days, with everything she’d learned, this had niggled the back of her mind, and yet she had pushed the thought away. Her uncle had killed his own flesh and blood, and yet the murder of his brother seemed impossible.
“Did you talk to him?”
“I’m sorry, Ella, but he committed suicide. If my guess is right, the same day your sister showed the meeting with him on her calendar.”
“If he confessed to a plot to kill my father, we’ll never know now. He and Lela are both dead and the information is gone with them. Another dead end.” Literally. “More mysterious deaths that tie to my uncle but I can’t prove he orchestrated or committed them himself.” Her heart sank. She planted her elbows on the table and held her head in her hands, trying to sort out all she knew, but couldn’t prove. She wanted to fight and scream and make someone understand what she couldn’t put into words.
“What other mysterious deaths? What more have you found?”
“You know about Mr. Trahan, the auditor who got run off the road and died. The audit was never completed the year my father died, or the next. Then the executives must have noticed. Our CFO ordered the audit. Again, the man in charge . . . a Mr. Reiser”—she held up one of the articles she’d printed out—“met with an untimely death.”
“What happened to him?”
“Shot during a mugging.”
“What the fuck?”
“There’s more. The police arrested the CFO who ordered those audits. Turns out he and another woman ran a high-priced call girl service. Someone tipped the cops off that he was involved.”
“I bet I can guess who,” Gabe said.
“It makes sense. I was in high school when this happened, and my uncle hired a new CFO—a longtime friend of his from college. The person who completes the independent audit each year since my uncle’s handpicked CFO came on board is listed in the payroll system as a contractor. He’s paid monthly for his services. The thing is, he only works for about two months for the company.”
“The rest of the time he’s being paid off.” Gabe ran a hand through his hair.
“What if these men didn’t have accidents at all? What if my uncle killed them?”
“Jeez, Ella, that’s two men at the company, possibly the mechanic’s wife, Lela, and your father, all tied to your uncle.”
“I know. I don’t have any proof, just the embezzlement and my suspicions.”
“What about your mother’s death?” he asked, his words soft.
“She loved my father in a way I can’t explain. They were like two puzzle pieces. When they found each other, they locked and did everything together. The one thing they loved more than anything was riding. My father kept several horses at the New York estate. They went there all the time to be together, ride, have picnics. It was their place. She hung herself in the stables. She couldn’t live without him. She didn’t live for us.”
“Ah, Ella, I’m sorry.”
She didn’t want his sympathy and pushed forward. “I found a few other threads leading me in other directions, but they require phone calls and possibly visits in order to actually unravel this ball of lies and deceit.”
“Lela told your uncle she had proof he did something. So the mechanic must have given it to her. We still need to find it. The embezzlement will put him in jail, proof he committed murder will keep him there. I have something else to show you.” He grabbed the large envelope he must have set on the table when he walked in and pulled out some papers.
“Before I checked out Finney’s place, I stopped by the courthouse and asked the clerk to pull all the records in your father’s name and regarding Wolf Ranch.” He set the papers in front of her. “Turns out, the property is much bigger. In actuality, it’s just over twenty-three thousand acres. Your father bought the original property and built the house.” He pulled the second deed out of the pile and set it on top. “Two years later, he made an additional land purchase when prices dropped drastically. Over time, the land has become worth a hell of a lot more.”
“How much more?”
“With the additional wells, grassland, and rangeland, about sixteen-point-nine million. Your dad was something else.”
“Yes, he was. He bought low and sold high. My uncle sells things that don’t belong to him way below market value and thinks he’s doing good business because he’s got cash in his pocket.”
“I thought you should know. The language in the purchase papers states all of Wolf Ranch, which technically includes this additional land. If the deal went through, your uncle would have cost you more than fifteen million dollars.”
“With this and the paintings and cattle we’re no longer talking a drop in the bucket of the Wolf assets, but a downpour.”
“You’ve uncovered a lot of things you can use against your uncle. Because of that, I contacted someone I know at the FBI.”
“What?”
“Hear me out. My brother Caleb’s wife has a brother in the FBI. Sam’s in Virginia. He’s agreed to help you whenever you’re ready to go up against your uncle. He’ll remain on standby, until we need him. In the meantime, he’s quietly putting together a case against Detective Robbins, the lawyers who set up the ranch deal, and your uncle. It’s just preliminary stuff, but put together with what you’ve found, you’ve got a case to arrest your uncle.”
“I don’t have all the proof to back this up.”
“We’ll find it.”
“What if I don’t?”
“You will.”
“Do you trust Sam?”
“Absolutely.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’d have to be to trust him with your life.” He held out his hand to her. “Come on. You need a break. Get dressed. You’re coming with me.”
“Gabe, I can’t go anywhere. Someone might see me.”
“We’re not going to town, just out for a walk. It’s sunny. We’ll keep it short, so you don’t hurt that ankle. You need to get out of this house.”
“I need to keep working.”
“It will be here when you get back.”
“Gabe.”
“Ella, I want to spend time with you outside these walls. Come to the stables. See the horses. You’ll feel better.”
The thought of seeing the horses appealed to her on a deep level. She hadn’t been outside in days. As much as she’d uncovered about her uncle, she had a lot more work ahead of her. She needed a clear head, some time to let what she’d learned settle.
“That look on your face tells me you want to go. So, come on, city girl.”