Killing Secrets (30 page)

Then, with a big smile for Amanda, he walked her toward the door. “Maybe they’ll have cookies, too. Would you like that?” Rachel watched her daughter nod, and then they were gone.

“That’s a good man you’ve got there,” her father said behind her.

Patrick was a good man, but she didn’t have him.
She turned her back on that depressing thought and faced her father. “Yes, he is. He’s been there when I needed him.” She couldn’t think about the time when he wouldn’t be there anymore.

“Unlike me, you mean.” Her dad’s observation sounded sad and questioning at the same time.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to, chickadee.” He shifted on the bed so that he was lying propped on the pillows. He fumbled with the oxygen tubes in his nose before he spoke again. “You’re angry and have every right to be. I can’t take back what I did, wouldn’t want to, even now, knowing how things turned out. Don’t think I don’t have regrets, all the same.”

“Why do you keep calling me that?” she asked, unwilling to deal with the past yet.

He grimaced. “Sorry. You hate that name.” He shrugged. “You’ve just always been my little chickadee. Hard habit to break. I’ll try to stop.”

“Chickadees are boring little birds.” Nothing special. Certainly not missed when they flew away.

“They’re cute as a button and so were you. And, just like the chickadee, you were curious about everything and everyone around you.” A ghost of a smile twitched on his lips. “No matter where we went, it took you less than ten minutes to investigate your surroundings, make friends. Cowboys. Rodeo clowns. Ranchers. You were always surrounded by a flock of people, all wanting to make you smile, bring you treats, and give you rides.”

“Oh.” Thought of that way, the nickname didn’t sound half bad. Almost tender. Emotions welled inside her alongside the memories. “Remember the time that old geezer put me on the back of that red bull when I was seven?”

Her father snorted with disgust. “Bull’s name was Killer Mayhem. He never broke out the gate the same way twice. Killed four riders in his career. You shouldn’t have been within ten feet of that animal, let alone set on his back. Seeing you there near gave me a heart attack.”

“The way you yelled, I thought for sure I’d get paddled like some of the kids on the circuit.”

“I loved you too much to raise a hand to you, girl.”

Rachel listened to the hiss of oxygen from the tubes inserted in his nose. “What changed?” she asked, her voice strangling in her throat. “W-Why did you stop?”

“Loving you? Darlin’ girl. Never stopped.” He grimaced, as if in pain, before he began again, noticeably weaker. “That’s why you’re here. So much to say before I die….”

She reared back. “You’re not dying!”

“That’s in God’s and the surgeon’s hands.” He stopped again, longer this time.

Concerned, Rachel was about to call the nurse for assistance when he smiled crookedly. “Stupid pills. Make me groggy. Still must…make peace. Tell you what I did. Just in case.”

Just in case?
Her knees wobbled. Leaning on the bed, she took his hand. “We don’t have to—”

“Get the papers,” he said, waving to the other side of the room. “Top drawer.”

When she did as he asked, she found a folder with her name on it. Her new name. Her parents had named her Rachel Felicia Grey. Greg had insisted on calling her Felicia because it “sounds more upper crust.” When the divorce attorney asked her if she wanted to take her name back, she’d been re-born plain old Rachel James, eradicating Felicia and taking her mama’s maiden name.

She carried the folder back to the bed, afraid to guess what was inside. “What is this?” She held it out to him.

“My Last Will and Testament,” he said, refusing to accept the folder. “That’s your copy.”

“Dad! You’re not going to die!” She wouldn’t allow the idea to settle into her brain. She might not have seen him in ten years, but she’d been aware he was out there. Somewhere. She couldn’t think about a world without her dad in it.

“Not planning on dying, girl. Have every reason to live now you’re here,” he said with a small smile. “But I learned a thing or two about how things get done. I’ve learned to plan, with a small amount of success.”

He nodded at the folder clutched in her hand. “Open it.”

She did as he instructed and stared at the squiggly words on the page, her eyes suddenly awash in a blur of tears. She made a pretense of reading, but then a number jumped out at her.
Ten million…
her gaze shot to her father. “What…how…?”

He chuckled, but ended up choking on the laughter. When he stopped coughing, he shrugged. “Your great-aunt took good care of you, and what I have is just spit compared to her estate. But I want you to have something for Amanda if the James family doesn’t accept her into the fold. Something of her own.”

The air froze in Rachel’s lungs. Dear God, he knew her secret. “Why wouldn’t they?” she prevaricated.

“You told your great-aunt the little one wasn’t your blood.”

“Amanda’s my daughter whether she’s my blood or not!” The argument was out before she was able to pull it back. If he didn’t know her secret for sure before, he did now.

“Damned straight, she is which is why we took action to protect you both from the James family, as well as Amanda’s daddy.” His dark gaze grew tender. “I don’t mean to ruffle your feathers, girl. I already love her like my own. I’ve got half a dozen pictures of her on my desk. That animal you married doesn’t deserve to claim her.”

“Wait.” She frowned. “You have pictures of Amanda?”

“Have a roomful of you both.” He fiddled with his oxygen mask. “For ten years, I kept my promise to your Great-Aunt Amanda to stay away. But she’s dead and that promise is broken.”

Rachel was beginning to feel like she’d wandered into a cattle chute backward. She knew danger was coming, but she couldn’t see it. “What are you talking about?”

Her father took her hand. His fingers trembled, but his grip firmed, like he didn’t dare let her go until he’d finished. “I made a deal with your great-aunt. I leave you with your mama’s family and, as long as I get regular reports and photos, I stay away.”

“The day you left—”she stared at him in consternation. “You sold me? Like a ratchety old horse you didn’t want any more?”

“Sell you?” He snorted. “You think I took money from the snooty James family?”

“Then why did you leave me?”

He squeezed her hand. “Ah, little chickadee, you wanted so much more than I could give you. You’d set your sights on college. You wanted
roots
, a home of your own.” He let go of her hand and looked away at the closed window blinds, lost in his memories. “Your great-aunt wanted to give you those things, too. She had as many regrets as I did about how the family treated your mama when she ran off and married me.” He looked at her. “You were so angry all the time I figured you’d be happier with your mama’s family.”

Rachel tried to remember exactly what was said that day. Her dad had his final ride that afternoon, and she knew they were hitting the road to the next town. Again. She remembered her anger building before he came back to their motel room. She’d been researching local colleges on the internet, something she did in every town they visited her senior year, though she knew enrollment was out of the question. Their credit was nonexistent, and they’d never stayed anywhere long enough for a guidance counselor to help her find grants and scholarships. All she could see of her future was a succession of motel rooms trailing from one rodeo to the next with her father.

Then, he’d walked into the room and started spouting off something about yet another new job and she’d lost her temper. She didn’t remember much else but screaming at him until he turned around and left. “You were excited about some new enterprise someone convinced you would make tons of money. If it wasn’t Great-aunt Amanda, who was it? Or was that just a trick?”

A smile flickered across his lips at some memory. “I was excited all right. Ran into an old rancher I’d worked for years before I met and married your mama. He had a proposition for me. Wanted to expand his ranch operations in Montana and breed bulls for the rodeo. He had no family left, so he offered me a partnership if I’d run it for him.”

“That’s quite a proposition.” She was impressed. Her dad had always been respected on the circuit, both for his riding acumen and his animal husbandry. He’d been raised on a ranch before his father lost the property to bad management practices and back taxes when he was seventeen.

“I worked for the man near eight years. When he saw my heart was on the circuit, he let me go with his blessing. He was more a father to me than my own, and we occasionally ran into each other over the years.” He shrugged. “I knew you didn’t like being tossed all over the country while I tried to find work that would pay enough to get me off the circuit. I was tired of getting tossed off bulls, too. I was ready to rope all of your objections and drag you with me, but then your mama’s aunt came to me and offered to take you in, give you the things you wanted.”

He stopped and took several deep pulls on his oxygen. “I knew the job could tank like so many times before, so I decided it was time to let you go. Find your way to what would make you happy. It about broke my heart to leave you behind.”

“I was so stupid, Dad,” she whispered. “I thought—”

“It’s not stupid to want a better life,” he said around a wide yawn. “You were so much smarter than I ever was, just like your mama. She would have wanted you to go to college to make something of yourself.” He gave her a small smile. “Can’t say I’d do it the same way again. I should have talked to you about it, instead of just leavin’.” He shrugged. “Water under the—”

“Bridge,” she finished for him. It was another of his favorite sayings she’d forgotten. She waved the folder at him. “There’s a lot of water here. I gather your partnership was successful.”

He yawned again. “Bought the breeding operation from the old man six years ago.” His eyelids began to droop but he forced them open. “He died five months later, leaving me the whole ranch. No kids, remember? Told me to pass it on to mine,” he trailed off, “if you ever talked to me again.”

Her heart ached. “We have a lot to catch up on, Dad, so you’re not passing on anything for a long while yet, okay?” She leaned over the bed and kissed his leathery cheek. “It’s time for you to get some rest.”

“Love you, little chickadee,” he whispered, his eyes closing. “Don’t fly away.”

“I love you, too, Daddy,” she said, tears running freely now that he couldn’t see them. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Chapter Twenty

Patrick glared out his office window the following Monday. The ominous thunderheads building overhead fit his current mood. The last thing he wanted was another schedule delay when he’d already dug deep into overtime. He dragged his free hand over the back of his neck while the other hand strangled the phone receiver as he listened to his potential client become his
ex
-potential client.

“Their bid was how much lower?” Customers seldom revealed why he didn’t get a project so he couldn’t afford to ignore information freely given. Especially when the situation stank like last week’s sewage line break.

This wasn’t the first time in the past few months his rival, Chet Standish Ltd. undercut one of his bids. Once was a coincidence. Twice might be serendipity. But the last four times they’d bid the same job?

His customer ran down with an apology, which forced Patrick to scramble for something to say. “No problem. I understand.” He ended the call with a pleasant “thanks for considering my firm” spiel that threatened to choke him.

The moment the client hung up, Patrick picked up his aluminum pencil holder and flung it across the room. His missile flew through the open doorway connecting his office with the file room, striking a cabinet on the far wall with a satisfying metallic bang.

A pencil rolled across the oak floor back into his office. Jane rushed into the room behind it, wielding a fistful of folders like a weapon. “What’s wrong?”

He cursed. He’d forgotten she was filing in the next room. “I—” he searched for an explanation that wouldn’t make him sound like a complete ass.

He knew he wasted his time when, over Jane’s shoulder, he spotted Rachel. He wasn’t proud of a lot of his actions lately, not where she was concerned. He’d avoided discussing the night his parents’ returned home. Unable to deal with his unreasonable desire for her, he’d put distance between them by treating her like an employee. He’d further strained their relationship when she was pushed into the elevator shaft. He blamed himself for putting her in danger and not protecting her, but he’d taken it out on her instead. He’d meant to talk to her the next day, but he’d gotten the call from Katy about Dixon and the opportunity was lost.

Except for brief appearances at Southgate to instruct her landscaping crew, she’d been at the hospital with her father since his hip surgery. Patrick still slept on his parents’ living room couch. The operative word was “slept”. Except for breakfast, he’d been too busy taking care of Thorne Enterprise projects to join the family for meals, simply falling into his makeshift bed each night like a dead man. The bodyguards had seen more of Rachel than Patrick these past three days, which is why he soaked up the sight of her like a parched man.