Fire Brand (30 page)

“You more than made up for it,” she mused. She hugged him hard. “When do you get council approval on this project?”

“At the next meeting, unless there's a lot of public opposition. And I don't see how there can be,” he added with a chuckle, “because I own the land.”

“How long will it take to build?”

“A couple of years, I imagine,” he replied. “These things take time. But it will give people something to hope for, something to look forward to.”

“Indeed it does. Can I break the story?” she probed.

“Along with the rest of the media,” he replied. “I don't play favorites, even when they're married to me,” he added, tapping her on the nose with his forefinger.

“Oh, well,” she sighed. “I guess I'll just melt into the crowd with the rest of the unappreciated press.”

“You'll never be that.” He kissed her gently. “Aggie and Ted are coming down for the weekend.”

“I know. Aggie said that Ted had tickets for the rodeo in Phoenix. He thought you might like to go with him.”

He chuckled. “Yes, I would. You and Aggie can go shopping.”

“Are you kidding?” she burst out. “Go shopping, when there's a rodeo to watch?!”

He looked down at her. “Fanatic.”

“So is Aggie; it runs in the family. Besides, one of Ted's cousins from Texas is competing in the calf roping. We have to go and support him.”

“If you say so,” he said. He put an arm around her and leaned back against the truck to watch the sun going slowly down behind the Dragoon Mountains. They were turning dark burgundy, their jagged peaks outlined against the orange and yellow and red of the sunset. “This is one hell of a beautiful country, Gaby,” he said.

“It certainly is.” She leaned her head against his shoulder. “Bowie, you don't really mind sharing the past with the future, do you? I mean, the compromise isn't going to keep you awake nights or anything?”

He pulled her closer. “I had to make a decision. It wasn't an easy one, at first. But you're right about people being important. The thing is to find ways to help the economy without sacrificing too much of the ecology. I think it can be done. I'm going to do my part.”

“I'm glad.”

“So am I.” He sighed pleasantly, smiling to himself at the way it had worked out for him and Gaby. He looked down at her, loving every line of her face, every facet of her personality. “I know we said no more secrets. Can you forgive me for keeping this last one?”

“Of course. In fact, I've been keeping one of my own.”

“Have you? What?” he asked with lazy affection.

She took his free hand and pulled it to her flat stomach. Then she looked up at him, the light from the setting sun reflected in her eyes.

The action was enough, without the words. He knew he couldn't get words out. It was a miracle that he had Gaby, that she loved him, but this made the miracle complete. This would complete the circle of their love.

He bent and kissed her mouth with soft tenderness. She smiled, thinking that his lips felt like a firebrand in the late afternoon, touching her with the heat of desire, the flame of possession, the mark of love in the shadow of the past. She closed her eyes, and felt the sun warming her eyelids. Love, she thought, endured as surely as Bowie's precious ruins, as strongly as the land itself.

Far away, there was a sound. Wind through the trees or ancient chants in the fiery sunset, voices whispering of sacred places, of white winds and soft wonder. Gaby heard them. Their children would hear them, too, now.

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt from
DEFENDER
by Diana Palmer.

“Palmer knows how to make the sparks fly!”
—Publishers Weekly

For sensual tales filled with romance and charm, don't miss any of the titles in
New York Times
bestselling author Diana Palmer's breathtaking
Long, Tall Texans
series!

Defender
Untamed
Invincible
Protector
Courageous
Merciless
Dangerous
Heartless
Fearless

“Diana Palmer is a mesmerizing storyteller who captures the essence of what a romance should be.”
—Affaire de Coeur

Featuring drama, rugged cowboys and love born in Big Sky Country…don't miss the captivating
Wyoming Men
series!

Wyoming Brave
Wyoming Rugged
Wyoming Strong
Wyoming Bold
Wyoming Fierce
Wyoming Tough

Be sure to catch these fan-favorite tales filled with the passion and romance that you know and love from Diana Palmer!

Fire Brand
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Defender

by Diana Palmer

ONE

I
sabel Grayling stuck her head around the study door and peered in. The big desk was empty. The chair hadn't been moved from its position, carefully pushed underneath. Everything on the oak surface was neatly placed; not a pencil wasn't neatly in a cup; not a scrap of paper was out of line. She let out a breath. Her father wasn't home, but the desk kept the fanatical order he insisted on, even when he wasn't here.

She darted out of the office with a relieved sigh and pushed back the long tangle of her reddish-gold hair. Blue, blue eyes were filled with relief. She wrinkled her straight nose, where just a tiny line of freckles ran over its bridge. Her name was Isabel, but only Paul Fiore called her that. To everyone else, she was Sari, just as her sister, Meredith, was always called Merrie.

“Well?” her younger sister, Merrie, asked in a whisper.

Sari turned. The other girl was slender, like herself, but Merrie had hair almost platinum blond, straight and to her waist in back. Her eyes, like Sari's, were blue, but paler, more the color of a winter sky. Both girls looked like their late mother, who was pretty but not beautiful.

“Gone!” Sari said with a wicked grin.

Merrie let out a sigh of relief. “Paul said that Daddy was going to Germany for a few weeks. Maybe he'll find some other people to harass once he's in Europe.”

Sari went up to the shorter girl and hugged her. “It will be all right.”

Merrie fought tears. “I only wanted to have my hair trimmed, not cut. Honestly, Sari, he's so unreasonable...!”

“I know.” She didn't dare say more. Paul had told her things in confidence that she couldn't bear to share with her baby sister. Their father was far more dangerous than either of them had known.

To any outsider, the Grayling sisters had everything. Their father was rich beyond any dream. They lived in a gray stone mansion on acres and acres of land in Comanche Wells, Texas, where their father kept Thoroughbred horses. Rather, his foreman kept them. The old man was carefully maneuvered away from the livestock by the foreman, who'd once had to save a horse from the man. Darwin Grayling had beaten animals before. It was rumored that he'd beaten his wife. She died of a massive concussion, but Grayling swore that she'd fallen. Not many people in Comanche Wells or nearby Jacobsville, Texas, wanted to argue with a man who could buy and sell anybody in the state.

That hadn't stopped local physician Jeb “Copper” Coltrain from asking for a coroner's inquest and making accusations that Grayling's description of the accident didn't match the head injuries. But Copper had been called out of town on an emergency by a friend and when he returned, the coroner's inquest was over and accidental death had been put on the death certificate. Case closed.

The Grayling girls didn't know what had truly happened. Sari had been in high school, Merrie in grammar school, when their mother died. They knew only what their father had told them. They were much too afraid of him to ask questions.

Now, Merrie was in her last year of high school and Sari was a senior in college. Sari had majored in history in preparation for a law degree. She went to school in San Antonio, but wasn't allowed to live on campus. Her father had her driven back and forth every day. It was the same with Merrie. Darwin wasn't having either of his daughters around other people. He'd fought and won when Sari tried to move onto the college campus. He was wealthy and his children were targets, he'd said implacably, and they weren't going anywhere without one of his security people.

Which was why Sari and Paul Fiore, head of security for the Grayling Corporation, were such good friends. They'd known each other since Paul moved down from New Jersey to take the job, while Sari was in her last year of high school. Paul drove the girls to school every day.

He'd wondered, but only to Sari, why her father hadn't placed them both in private schools. Sari knew, but she didn't dare say. It was because her father didn't want them out of his sight, where they might say something that he didn't approve of. They knew too much about him, about his business, about the way he treated animals and people.

He was paranoid about his private life. He had women, Sari was certain of it, but never around the house. He had a mistress. She worked for the federal government. Paul had told her, in confidence. He wasn't afraid of Darwin Grayling—Paul wasn't afraid of anyone. But he liked his job and he didn't want to go back to the FBI. He'd worked for the Bureau years ago. Nobody knew why he'd suddenly given up a lucrative government job to become a rent-a-cop for a Texas millionaire in a small town at the back of beyond. Paul never said, either.

Sari touched Merrie's slightly bruised cheek and winced. “I warned you about talking back, honey,” she said worriedly. “I'm so sorry!”

“My mouth and my brain don't stay connected,” Merrie laughed, but bitterly. Her blue eyes met her sister's. “If we could just tell somebody!”

“We could, and Daddy would make sure they never worked again,” Sari said. “That's why I've never told Paul anything...” She bit her lip.

But Merrie knew already. She hugged the taller girl. “I won't tell him. I know how you feel about Paul.”

“I wish he felt something for me,” Sari said with a long sigh. “He's always been affectionate with me. He takes good care of me. But it's... I don't know how to say it. Impersonal?” She drew away, her expression sad. “He just doesn't get close to people. He dated that out-of-town auditor two years ago, remember? She called here over and over, and he wouldn't talk to her. He said he just wanted someone to go to the movies with, and she was looking at wedding rings.” She laughed involuntarily. She shook her head. “He won't get involved.”

“Maybe he was involved, and something happened,” her sister said softly. “He looks like the sort of person who dives into things headfirst. You know, all or nothing. Maybe he lost somebody he loved, Sari.”

“I guess that would explain a lot.” She moved away, grimacing. “It's just my luck, to go loopy over a man who thinks a special relationship is something you have with a vehicle.”

“It's a very nice vehicle,” Merrie began.

“It's a truck, Merrie!” she interrupted, throwing up her hands. “Gosh, you'd think it was a child the way he takes care of it. Special mats, taking it to the car wash once a week. He even waxes it himself.” She glowered. “It's a truck!”

“I like trucks,” Merrie said. “That cowboy who worked for us last year had a fancy black one. He wanted to take me to a movie.” She shivered. “I thought Daddy was going to kill him.”

“So did I.” Sari swallowed, hard. She wrapped her arms around her chest. “The cowboy went all the way to Arizona, they said, to make sure Daddy didn't have him followed. He was scared.”

“So was I,” Merrie confessed. “You know, I'm eighteen years old and I've never gone on a date with a real boy. I've never been kissed, except on the cheek.”

“Join the club,” her sister laughed softly. “Well, one day we'll break out of here. We'll escape!” she said dramatically. “I'll hire a team of mercenaries to hide us from Daddy!”

“With what money?” Merrie asked sadly. “Neither of us has a dime. Daddy makes sure we can't even get a part-time job to make money. You can't even live at your college campus. I'll bet that gets you talked about.”

“It does,” Sari confided. “But they figure our father is just eccentric because he's so rich, and they let it go. I don't have any real friends, anyway.”

“Just me,” Merrie teased.

Sari hugged her. “Just you. You're my best friend, Merrie.”

“You're mine, too, even if you are my sister.”

Sari drew back. “One day, things will change.”

“You've been saying that since we were in grammar school. It hasn't.”

“It will.”

Merrie touched her cheek and winced. “I told Paul I fell down the steps,” she said, when she noticed her sister's worried expression.

“I wonder if he believed you,” Sari replied solemnly. “He's not afraid of Daddy.”

“He should be. I've heard Daddy has this friend back East,” Merrie told her. “He's in with some underworld group. They say he's killed people, that he'll do anything for money.” She bit her lower lip. “I don't want Paul hurt any more than you do. The less he knows about what goes on here when he's off duty, the better. He couldn't save us, anyway. He could only be dragged down with us.”

“He wouldn't let Daddy hurt us, if he knew,” Sari replied.

“So he won't know.”

“Someone else might tell him,” Sari began.

“Not anybody who works here,” Merrie sighed. “Mandy's kept house for over twenty years, since before you were born. She knows stuff, but she's afraid to tell. She has a brother who does illegal things. Daddy told her he could have her brother sent to prison if she ever opened her mouth. She's afraid of him.” She looked up. “I'm afraid of him.”

Sari winced. “Yes. Me, too.”

“I don't ever want to get married, Sari,” the younger woman said huskily. “Not ever!”

“One day, you might, if the right man comes along.”

Merrie laughed. “He's not likely to come along while Daddy's around, or he'll be leaving in a body bag in the back of a pickup truck.”

The dark humor in that statement sent them both into gales of laughter.

* * *

Paul Fiore was Italian. He also had a Greek grandmother. It accounted for his olive complexion and thick, jet-black hair and large brown eyes. He was handsome, too, tall and broad-shouldered, muscular without making a point of it. He walked like a panther, light on his feet, and he had a quick mind. He'd been in law enforcement most of his life until he took the job with the Grayling Corporation. He'd wanted to get as far away from federal work—and New Jersey—as he could. Jacobsville, Texas, came close to his ideal place.

He was fond of the girls, Merrie and Sari, and he took charge of the house when Mr. Grayling was out of the country. He could handle any problem that came up. His main responsibility was to keep the girls safe, but he also kept a close watch on the property, especially the very expensive Thoroughbreds Grayling raised for sale.

The housekeeper, Mandy Swilling, was fond of him. She was always baking him the cinnamon cookies he liked so much, and tucking little surprises into his truck when he had to be away on business.

“You've got me ruined,” he accused her one morning. “I'll be so spoiled that I'll never be able to get along in the world if I ever get fired from here.”

“Mr. Darwin will never fire you,” Mandy said confidently. “You keep your mouth shut and you don't ask questions.”

His eyes narrowed. “Odd reason to keep a man on, isn't it?”

“Not around here,” she said heavily.

He stared at her, his dark eyes twinkling. “You know where all the bodies are buried, huh? That why you still have work?”

She didn't laugh, as he'd expected her to. She just glanced at him and winced. “Don't even joke about things like that, Mr. Paul.”

He groaned at her form of addressing him.

“Now, now,” she said. “I've always called the boss Mr. Darwin, just like I call the foreman Mr. Edward. It's a way of speaking that Southern folk are raised with. You, being a Yankee...” She stopped and grinned. “Sorry. I meant to say, you, being a northerner, wouldn't know about that.”

“I guess so.”

“You still sound like a person born up North.”

He shrugged and grinned back at her. “We are what we are.”

“I suppose so.”

He watched her work at making rolls for lunch. She wasn't much to look at. She was about fifty pounds overweight, had short silver hair and dark eyes, and she was slightly stooped over from years of working in gardens with a hoe. But she could cook! The woman was a magician in the kitchen. Paul remembered his tiny little grandmother, making ravioli and antipasto when he was a child, the scent of flour and oil that always seemed to cling to her. Kitchens were comforting to a child who had no real home. His father had worked for a local mob boss, and done all sorts of illegal things, like most of the rest of his family. His mother had died miserable, watching her husband run around with an endless parade of other women, shuddering every time the big boss or law enforcement came to the front door. After his mother died and his father went to jail for the twentieth time, Paul went to live with his little Greek grandmother. He and his cousin Mikey had stayed with her until they were almost grown. Paul watched Mikey go the same route his father had, attached like a tick to the local big crime boss. His father never came around. In fact, he couldn't remember seeing his father more than a dozen times before the man died in a shootout with a rival mob.

It was why he'd gone into law enforcement at seventeen, fresh out of high school. He hated the hold crime had on his family. He hoped he could make a difference, help clean up his old neighborhood and free it from the talons of organized crime. He went from local police right up into the FBI. He'd felt that he was unstoppable, that he could fight crime and win. Pride had blinded him to the reality of life. It had cost him everything.

Still, he missed the Bureau sometimes. But the memories had been lethal. He couldn't face them, not even now, years after the tragedy that had sent him running from New Jersey to Texas on a job tip from a coworker. He'd given up dreams of a home and all the things that went with it. Now, it was just the job, doing the job. He didn't look forward. Ever. One Day at a Time was his credo.

“Why are you hiding in here?” Mandy asked suddenly, breaking into his thoughts.

“It's that obvious, huh?” he asked, the New Jersey accent still prevalent even after the years he'd spent in Texas.