Navy SEAL Surrender (18 page)

Chapter Twenty-Six

“Why, Johnny Sloane, are you trying to get me into the backseat of your car? Bringing me out to the middle of nowhere didn’t even work in high school. I’m flattered, but I’d really like to see my little girl.”

Alicia joked, but she had no idea where they were going. The air-conditioning felt wonderful on full blast, so they weren’t melting in the heat.

“I only need a couple of minutes alone with you. Just a couple. Promise,” he said, nibbling at her fingertips laced through his strong hand. “I don’t think either of us will fit back there as comfortably as we did when we were teenagers.”

He turned toward the ranch, but he’d given her the impression they weren’t headed straight home. Maybe he’d changed his mind and was taking her to Lauren after all.

“I am ready. I was wrong last night, or this morning, whatever time it was out in the field.”

He kissed the back of her hand. “I know.”

“Where are we going?”

“There’s something I need to do here.”

“But this is...”
The fire.

“Yeah, it’s Mrs. Cook’s place.”

“Why do you need to come to where the fire happened?”

“Closure. Coming full circle. It just seems appropriate.”

He stopped in the field where they’d parked as teens. The old barn had burned to the ground back then. Any remnants had been cleared away. But there was a familiar tree and stone wall that he led her to.

The last place they’d argued. He offered to pick her up, but she wanted to walk, to give herself time to think. She’d listened back then, wishing he’d just be satisfied to stay in Texas.

John lifted her to the top of the ancient rock wall. Most of it had broken away and lay at their feet. They could still sit like they had when he’d spoken about seeing all the faraway countries...about leaving.

“Twelve years ago, I left without a real goodbye. I thought we’d broken up and didn’t really see any sense trying to apologize. I admit to being cocky and that the idea of having a girlfriend back home wasn’t my first priority. Dang it, I was eighteen.” He laughed at his embarrassment. “I didn’t think I was coming back to Aubrey. For some reason, I never thought you’d leave.”

“It’s okay, I—”

“It’s my turn, Alicia.” He swallowed hard but didn’t look away.

Whatever he had to say, it was important. Lauren was safe and John mattered to her. So she could hear him out before they went home.

“I was a hurt kid back then. I’m sorry. I’ve been around the world and back again, hon. And I know it’ll seem odd, but I’m ready to come home. You can take as long as you need to ‘get ready.’ I’ll be here when you are. I love you. I always have.”

“My turn?”

He laughed and nodded, not releasing her hands.

“I sort of expected something like this when we pulled up. I mean, you said that you loved me back at the auction. Your actions, though—putting everything on the line for Lauren and me like you have... Well, you’ve shown me that you love me many times over in the past couple of days.”

“I’m glad I was doing something right.”

“I didn’t want to feel like this. But not for the reasons you think. I kept thinking it would be disloyal to my marriage. Then Brian said he’d known his best friend and that Dwayne would be glad we were together. He’s right. Dwayne would want me to be happy. He’d want us all to be happy. I am so ready to love you, John.”

He tugged her to her feet and kissed her. The moment his lips touched hers, guilt-free desire took over. No more anxiety and no more questions. Being with him was her future. She was certain of it.

“Are you staying around here for a while?” If he wasn’t, she had every intention of staying wherever he was stationed. “You don’t have to give up your career in the navy, unless that’s what you really want.”

“I’m home for good. We should head back. You need to introduce me to Lauren.”

“She’s going to love having a dad.”

* * *

H
OME
. I
T
WAS
full, cramped, and John loved it. The house smelled like fried chicken, white gravy and peanut-butter cookies—his mom’s recipe. Mabel had started cooking chicken nuggets as soon as Dev had pulled in the driveway with Lauren. Now the little girl, soon to be his daughter, was asleep in his arms and still had a chocolate-milk mustache.

She was a resilient kid and had voluntarily crawled into his lap. It might help that he looked exactly like Brian, who she’d known all her life, but today, he’d accept all the trust and love she shared.

“You’re lucky I’m not fighting you to hold my darling girl.” Alicia kissed Lauren’s forehead and then John’s as she perched next to him on the chair.

“I thought I’d give you a break.” He leaned his head back and was rewarded with a long kiss. Something he’d never tire of. He lowered his voice so only Alicia could hear. “Brian spoke to me while you were bathing Lauren. He’s determined to find out who framed us and really set the fire.”

“It was such a long time ago. Does it even matter anymore?”

“It does to him. He said he needs to clear our name, but it’s more than that. I don’t know what. I tried to convince him it didn’t matter. There’s time to sort it out later.”

Alicia laced her fingers with his. “I can understand, but it seems futile. Maybe he’ll feel different when things settle down.”

“You two can stop your smooching, now. Right, Dad?” Brian lowered his voice as soon as he noticed Lauren. He set his cell on the coffee table before sitting in the only other chair in the living room. “This thing’s been ringing nonstop. I didn’t know anyone had my number. The sheriff said Patrick ranted about his ruined plans all the way to the hospital. It appears he was leaving for Mexico so he could kill Shauna, too. Now they’re all headed for prison.”

“Did I hear you talking about the mare earlier?”

“Yeah, with Dusty Phillips. You’d think he’d give us a couple of days before attempting to finalize the deal on the mare I’ve been trying to sell to him for weeks.”

His dad tapped where his watch should have been. Seems he’d made a lot of improvements in the past two days.

“Why now?” Brian said aloud for him. “No auction of the Adamses’ stock, for one. National championships for Carla. If she’s riding again this year, she needs a new horse.”

“Do you want to sell her, Brian?” Alicia asked from the arm of John’s chair.

“No question of want. We have to sell her or lose this place.”

“As soon as—”

“We aren’t taking your money, Alicia,” Brian said firmly, and his dad nodded.

Thank God J.W. was going to recover. He wanted the relationship with his father that Brian took for granted. He also wanted to restore the relationship with his brother. “How about mine?”

“We need a lot more than you’ve got in the bank.”

Dev laughed from the kitchen, where he’d been helping Mabel with KP duty.

“There’s ten grand in my room. How much do you need?”

“Where did you get so much cash?”

“He’s really good at poker,” Dev answered for him. “He also has no life. No rent. No real car. No women.”

“I like my truck.”

“Chicks hate it.”

“That’s true. But I figure I’ve got enough to get this place back on its feet, hire a couple of hands. Give Dad time to recover and give you a much deserved vacation.”

“Johnny, I do believe you’ve shocked your brother into silence.” Mabel dried her hands on her ever-present apron. “With that, you should all go find a place to sleep. Key to my house is under the third flowerpot on the back porch. I’m staying here in case your dad needs something.”

His dad’s expression was different than it had been three days ago. There was no panic in his eyes, just acceptance.

“I’m driving back to my cabin and inventorying my gear. If one cable is missing, I’m tracking it down.” Dev held a finger in the air for emphasis, but destroyed his tough demand with a grin.

“I have a nice comfy bed in the other room. That means you guys can have Mabel’s guest room all to yourselves.” Brian laughed. “Good luck with your new family, bro.”

“No luck needed when love’s involved,” John told him.

Alicia kissed his lips, stroked Lauren’s cheek with a tender finger and rested her head on the top of his. “Piece of cake.”

* * * * *

The
TEXAS FAMILY RECKONING
miniseries
continues next month.
Look for THE RENEGADE RANCHER
by Angi Morgan
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Chapter One

The monster sat across the breakfast table from Caroline, looking deceptively handsome in a dove-gray, thousand-dollar suit that emphasized his broad shoulders and the bulging muscles in his upper arms. The tanned hand that flicked the page on his electronic tablet was elegant, strong, with perfectly groomed nails.

They should have been talons.

Talons would have warned people who didn’t know Richard Ashton III that those hands were lethal, especially when they were clasped into fists.

He skimmed through the latest stock-market figures, then looked pointedly at the untouched food on Caroline’s plate.

In spite of the worry that had kept her awake most of the night, the worry that had nausea churning in her stomach this morning, she picked up her fork and took a bite of egg the cook had prepared exactly to Richard’s specifications. She dabbed her napkin on the corners of her mouth as he’d taught her, before training her face into the carefully blank expression she’d learned was the safest.

His brows lowered. “You’re getting too thin, Caroline. That displeases me.”

She stilled, her fingers curling against her thigh.

“I—I—I’m sorry, Richard.”

Calm down. He hates it when you stutter.

She fought back the fear that so often jumbled her words. “I’ll eat everything on my plate. I promise.” She took another bite of egg.

Tiny lines of disapproval tightened around his eyes.

Her stomach twisted. What had she done? She raced through a mental checklist. Her hair was neat and curled to drape over one shoulder in the style he preferred. She’d painstakingly applied the makeup he’d selected for her, natural looking but polished. She held her napkin in her left hand in her lap, her fork in her right, no elbows on the table. What had she missed?

“Don’t look so alarmed,” he chided her. He cocked his head, his eyes narrowing. “Or have you done something that requires further instruction?”

“No, no, no, I’ve been good. I don’t...n-need another l-lesson.”

Stop it. Calm down.

“Don’t stutter, Caroline. It’s unbecoming of an Ashton to stutter. Tell me, why aren’t you eating enough?”

Her hands went clammy with sweat and shook so badly she almost dropped her fork. Desperation had her scooping another forkful of eggs into her mouth. As she chewed, she smiled across the table at him, trying to placate him.

He shook his head. “You’re being rude. I asked you a question, and now your mouth is full. You’re making me wait for an answer.”

Stupid, stupid, stupid.
She should have answered him first and then taken a bite. She swallowed hard, forcing the lump of eggs down her tight throat without taking the time to chew.

“I’m so sorry,” she rushed to assure him. “I didn’t mean to be rude. I w-wanted you to be proud that I was obeying, that I was eating.” She wiped her moist hands on her pants.

“I’m still waiting for an answer.”

She blinked. What was the question? What
was
it? She couldn’t remember. He’d said something about her being too thin, and then he’d said—

“I asked why you aren’t eating enough.” His voice was clipped, harsh.

“I’m s-sorry. I guess I’m just...tired. Not hungry.”

One of his elegant brows arched. “And why,
exactly,
are you tired?”

She grasped for an excuse, anything but the truth—that she’d lain awake most of the night, going over her plans, trying to build her courage.

“I—I don’t know. Perhaps I worked too hard in the garden yesterday. I
am
a bit sore.”

The slight reddening of his face had the blood draining from hers, leaving her cold and full of dread. He would take her comment about being sore as an accusation against him, a complaint. Because, as he frequently reminded her, it was always
her
fault when he was forced to teach her a lesson,
her
fault he had to punish her.

“You’ve worked in the garden plenty of times without being sore.” His voice lashed out at her like a whip. “I’m more inclined to believe you’re complaining that you forced me to teach you a lesson yesterday.”

She dropped her gaze, her pulse slamming in her ears. A whimper bubbled up inside her, but she couldn’t let it escape. Crying was undignified. Ashtons did
not
cry.

“Look at me when I’m speaking to you,” he demanded.

“Please,” she whispered, trying to appeal to the man he
used
to be, the man that must surely still be there, somewhere, hidden deep inside, the man she’d loved once, so very long ago. “Please, Richard. It was a...poor choice of words. I’m sorry.”

He plopped his napkin on the table and stood. “Yes, it certainly was, a very poor choice.” He stalked to her chair.

She shrank back and hated herself for it.

The cook walked into the dining room, smiling a greeting at Richard, ignoring Caroline, as she’d been ordered to do. As they’d
all
been ordered to do. The staff knew Richard was the perfect, loving husband saddled with an unbalanced wife who made his life miserable—a wife who was to be ignored, for her own safety, lest she get too worked up. A wife who must never be allowed to leave the estate without her husband, except for her once-a-week errands, which were carefully timed and reported upon so Richard could immediately come to her aid if she became confused. Only Richard knew how to handle her, how to take care of her, how to keep her calm, or so they all believed.

At times like this, Caroline almost believed the lies herself. After all, she had to be insane to have stayed with the devil as long as she had.

“Mr. Ashton, good morning to you. Can I get you anything else, sir?” the cook asked.

His face smoothed out and he returned her smile. “Yes. Please let Charles know I’ll be leaving a bit later than planned.” He circled his fingers around Caroline’s wrists and pulled her to her feet, smiling the entire time. “Have him bring the car around front in exactly one hour. Mrs. Ashton and I would like to...talk.”

He added a wink that had the cook blushing and assuming exactly what he wanted her to assume—that he was a loving husband intent on loving his wife.

“Very good, sir.” She hurried out of the room.

Richard’s grip on Caroline’s wrists turned crushingly brutal.

She gasped and tried to pull her hands back. “Please, you’re hurting me.”

He immediately let go, frowning at the red marks he’d left. “Later, you will change into long sleeves. I won’t have someone misinterpreting anything they might see. Now, come along. Apparently yesterday’s lesson was insufficient.”

He put his hand on the small of her back. She tottered on shaking legs toward the winding marble staircase in the two-story foyer.

She could endure this. She could get through this. She could survive this.

Those three sentences went through her mind over and over, like a prayer, giving her the strength to climb the stairs with her husband at her side, towering over her, like a prison guard leading an inmate to the death chamber.

At the first landing, he caught her shoulders, turned her around and kissed her. She was so stunned she forgot to pretend to respond. He broke the kiss and pressed his lips close to her ear.

“Close your eyes, Caroline. Kiss me back.”

She saw the reason then for his pretend affection. A maid had entered the foyer below. This was part of Richard’s game, making others believe he was devoted to her. Appearances were everything to an Ashton.

His lips touched hers again. When the hard ridge of his erection pressed against her belly, she shuddered with revulsion. His arms tightened painfully around her bruised side where he’d kicked her last night. She fervently hoped he’d taken her shudder for passion instead of disgust, or her lesson would be more severe than usual.

He led her to the master bedroom at the end of the hall. As he closed the thick, soundproof double doors behind them, she reminded herself again that she’d endured his lessons many times. She could survive one more. She had to. Because after today, she would be free. After today, she would never see Richard Ashton III again.

He yanked her long hair, jerking her backward, twisting her neck at an impossible angle. She sucked in a sharp breath, loathing and despair boiling up inside her. His eyes darkened with the anticipation she’d grown to dread, even as he shook his head like a teacher bitterly disappointed with his star pupil.

She knew what he would say next, the same thing he said every time he “instructed” her, the same thing he would tell her when he plunged into her bruised and battered body to slake the lust that always consumed him after giving her a lesson.

“I love you, Caroline. I do this
because
I love you.” The disappointment in his voice might have been convincing if it weren’t for the anticipation that had his mouth curving into a feral smile.

His eyes narrowed when she didn’t rush to say what she was supposed to say.

Perhaps it was the knowledge that this was the last time she’d ever have to endure his touch that made her brave. She glared at him, refusing to give him the words he wanted.

He grabbed her upper arms, his fingers digging into her with bruising force.

The pressure made her cry out. Unwelcome tears pricked the backs of her eyes. “Please, stop.”

“Say it!” His fingers dug harder, like the talons she’d pictured earlier.

Her vision blurred.

“I love you,” she choked out, despising him all the more for the coward he’d forced her to become. But she would say the empty, meaningless words a thousand times if it would stop the blinding pain. “I love you, I love you, I love—”

“And?” He shook her, snapping her teeth together, making her bite the inside of her cheek. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth.

“I—I’m...s-sorry.”

He abruptly let her go. She staggered back. A wave of dizziness sent her wobbling to the nearest piece of furniture in the expansive room, the four-poster bed. She clung to one of the thick posts. The pain that lanced through her upper arms made her cry out again.

His nostrils flared. He stalked toward her, shedding his clothes as he approached, his arousal stiff and heavy, an unyielding sword to wield against her. She cringed against the bed as the monster’s perfect hand coiled into a fist.

Copyright © 2014 by Lena Diaz