Playing For Keeps (Montana Men) (26 page)

Get your mind on what matters, Flayme!

How
slow the hunky cowboy makes love to a woman did not her concern. What mattered
was the fact she had no money. But there
was
a clerk in the sleazy motel office. Maybe she could sweet talk him into lending
her a few bucks. She’d write him an IOU.

Fuming,
Flayme trudged across the icy ground and tore open the office door. Crossing
the short distance to the desk, she banged the service bell. Looking around
while she waited, she nearly jumped out of her skin when a gangly-looking young
male popped his head around an open door and grinned.
Yuck!
Talk about your neighborhood slime ball!

“Hi
there.” He gaped at her as if he’d never seen a woman before. He sort of
reminded her of one those idiotic characters from that long ago movie,
Deliverance,
inbred and just plain
stupid looking. What on earth had made the cowboy take a room here with this
character lurking about? It was enough to give a lady the willies!

Flayme
glared. “I need to use your phone,” she demanded.

“Sorry, doll. It’s not working. Storm knocked down the
lines hours ago. It’ll probably be out of commission for days. We’re usually
the last place that gets service returned.”

“Perfect!”

“Yeah.
Cuddling weather. Don’t ya think?”

“No,
I don’t think,” she snapped. “What about a cell? Don’t you have a cell phone I
can use?”

“On
my salary? Get real, lady.” He lifted a sandy-colored brow and slowly raked his
gaze over her. “I’d be glad to help you with any other needs…” His voice slowly
trickled to a stop as she lifted her head and punched him with a hard glare.

“Damn.” Flayme snatched the phone off its cradle and
lifted it to her ear. Dead as a rock! Deader than the ninny before her drooling
like a lovesick calf.

“Look, lady,” the clerk said, yanking the phone from her
hands and dropping it back in its home, “I told you the lines are dead. If
there’s nothing else…” He turned his attention back to the television inside
the little room.

Flayme’s
gaze tracked his with the precision of a guided missile. Grunting. Groaning.
And lots of activity on a bed blasted across the screen. Holy hell! Her throat
tightened. Jesus. She tilted her head to one side and studied the action for a
second. Hmm. She hadn’t known that position was possible. Heat scalded her face
when the boy turned and caught her staring.

“Anything
else I can do for you?” he asked, in what she was dead certain he considered an
alluring voice. “Last offer.”

She
stared at him, hands plastered on her hips. “Funny, I know this creepy little
worm named Neil. I think you and he share the same gene pool,” she said, her
tone icy.

His
eyes flashed with animosity. “I guess you prefer the cowboy to a real man. I
asked him about a threesome, but he turned me down flat. So, how ‘bout it,
lady,
you
interested?”

Flayme
snatched up a pair of scissors lying on the counter and eyed his crotch.
Slowly, she lifted her gaze. She prayed her eyes looked as fierce as she felt.
“The last man who made that offer, I lopped off his dick. It’s lying somewhere
on the highway between here and D.C.”

The
boy gulped. “The cowboy? You cut off his pride and joy? What kind of sick
female are you? Is he still alive?” He crossed his hands over his crotch. “Get
out! And don’t come back in here! Hell, I was just making conversation.”

“He
isn’t dead…yet.”

“I
don’t care! I said get out. Go! Crazy, East coast, scissor-happy-harpy
—
I was making small talk
, no need
for you to go all Sigourney Weaver on me and act like I’m some kind of alien.”

Flayme
flattened her lips.
Damn it!
What was
wrong that everything she planned the last few hours seemed to go instantly
haywire? “I don’t need small talk. I need a phone!”

Her
jaw ached, and she immediately relaxed. Flayme narrowed her eyes. Completely
aware she must look merciless, she shrugged inwardly. Hell, she felt ruthless.
It’d been a damn long night and the day promised to be no better. “Come on over
to our room…if you feel lucky,” she drawled, and snapped the scissors a couple
of times in warning before setting them back on the counter.

Concealing
a grin at the look of horror that flitted across the young man’s face when she
worked the scissors, she left, letting the door glide shut behind her.
Priceless. That was one irritating and rude young man who lacked a sense of
propriety. He’d deserved the bit of payback for his nasty remarks. Sigourney
Weaver, indeed.

Seething,
she marched across the parking lot. What was it? Did she suddenly have ‘Fuck
me’ tattooed on her forehead? “Threesome? Hah!” Feeling heartless as the cold
wind whistling up her pant legs, she used the key card and pushed open the
motel door. A shadowy movement to her right startled her.
“Ahhh!”
she barked. Her heart pounded as firm fingers gripped her
shoulders, dragged her inside and slammed the door behind her. Pain shot
through her shoulders as her arms were wrenched behind her. “How did you get
loose?” she demanded urgently. “I know I locked the cuffs.”

“I have my ways,” he said, his voice filled with ice. Duel
pushed her onto the only chair in the room, slapped the handcuffs around her
wrists, and snapped them around the back spindles. He stood over her, weaving
like a tired cowboy after a hard day of roping and branding. “You do something
that stupid again, and I swear I’ll
give
you to the assassin.”

His
hair was soaked. His face flushed. He looked as wary as a trapped wolf. Blood
trailed down the side of his face.

“God,
you look awful,” she declared. “What
…
assassin?”

“Lady,
you make one more attempt to escape, I’ll shoot you in the leg. See how damn
well you look and feel.” Then he quietly passed out at her feet, dropping to
the floor like a bag of cement.

“What assassin?”
Flayme shouted. “And
who’s been assassinated?”

But
the cowboy was down and out. She had a sick feeling if he died she just might
disappear forever, sentenced for life in a Siberian prison or somewhere worse.

Chapter Twenty

Life is a gift, and I try to respond with
grace and courtesy.

~Maya Angelou

McLean, Virginia

February 17, Tuesday

Eight hours and thirty minutes after the assassination…

A
bit wary of what Sam’s reaction might be as soon as she saw him, Travis plopped
down on the edge of one of the high-backed chairs. He looked around, taking in
the frilly, sunshine-yellow curtains snuggled between the bay window
surrounding the breakfast nook and the round snow-white table.

Hell,
he’d give his right
nut
to be cuddled with Sam
upstairs, in what he figured was a sexy-as-hell femininely decorated bedroom.
He sighed. No chance of it ever happening.

Instead,
he’d remain here, staring at the depressing remnants of her family’s morning
meal
—
dishes,
coffee cups, and a cereal bowl with soggy pieces of orange, purple, and pink
Lifesaver-shaped circles floating in a scant amount of strawberry-col
ored
milk.

Clearly,
this was where Sam shared the intimate joys of domestic bliss. He was the alien
here, and if she had her way, he’d remain excluded from her personal life.

Travis
eyed the breezy, high-ceiling kitchen. Except for the remainder of breakfast,
the room was spotlessly clean. Shiny copper pots and skillets dangled from
wrought-iron hooks on an overhead rack above the center island. An amazing
amount of maple cabinets filled wall space to perfection. A snow-white
refrigerator stood in a nook with a cabinet style icemaker beside it.

Across
from the refrigerator, a matching freezer with a basket of artificial grapes on
top waited alone like a solitary soldier on guard duty. Above the cabinets and
filling every available space were bottles of wine. Different style
knick-knacks of grape motifs filled other spaces.

Grapes
were the theme, and instead of hanging a curtain on the window above the double
sink, Sam had chosen to drape grape vines over a curtain rod. The result was
startling, but Travis decided he liked it. It was charming, warm, and inviting.
The high ceilings contributed to the impression of lots of open space.

Sam’s
home, he thought, and tugged at his tie. Damn, if he couldn’t get used to this.
Why the hell hadn’t he remained in the freakin’ car? He shouldn’t have entered
her private space without her specific invitation. He’d crossed a line.

Her mother filled an earthen mug and set the steaming
coffee in front of him. It was too late to get his ass out.

“Would
you like some waffles?” The older woman smiled and patted his hand. “Relax,
son, her bark is worse than her bite.”

Travis
grinned. “Don’t know about that, Mrs. Brewster. I’ve been bitten a couple of
times by her. It was downright painful.”

Sam’s
mother looked startled, then she laughed. “Call me Madge. Mrs. Brewster makes
me feel ancient. Want some advice? The key to winning Sam’s heart is to not let
her make the decision to shrug you off. She’s scared, but she’s worth the
chase. Have fun conquering her, but do it gently.”

Travis
lifted a brow.

She
patted his hand. “Sam will be down in a minute. How ‘bout those waffles?”

“What?
Oh. No. Thank you.” Fiddling with a fork on a fiesta-orange colored placemat,
Travis wondered what the hell he was thinking accepting Sam’s mother’s invitation
to come in out of the cold and have breakfast.

Sam
would kill him. Dead. Stabbed. Murdered. And not necessarily in that order.
She’d hate him being in her home, invading her privacy. He hadn’t been thinking
when Mrs. Brewster asked him in, but now that he did—Travis pushed the cup
aside and stood away from the table. Too late!

As
soon as he heard the little girl’s childish giggles, he flopped back onto the
chair. He refused to miss this opportunity to see Hayley, to judge if she was
his daughter. As soon as the child came in sight, his breath
whooshed
from his lungs. His heart skipped
beats, leaving him lightheaded. Oh, dear God
—
he hadn’t a single doubt left in his mind
—
which he hadn’t had any to begin with,
but this simply proved it.

The
child belonged to him, same dark hair, and same deep blue eyes.
His
daughter. Lord, the little girl was
the spitting image of his mother at that age. The lump that settled in his
heart nearly took him to his knees. He lifted his head and met Sam’s startled
gaze. All the color drained from her face and she slumped against the door
facing behind her, as if her legs were too unsteady to hold her up any longer.

“What
are you doing in here?” Her voice sounded strained. Her face looked pinched.
Lips tight. Eyes narrowed. She rubbed her forehead as if maybe she had the
makings of a headache. “You need to go,” she said faintly. “Now.”

“Why?”
he whispered. “It’s too late,
Sam. Why did you keep this from me? Why should I go?”

“Because
I don’t want you here!” Her voice rose on a note of hysteria.

“That’s
not what I was asking and you damn well know it. I want to know why you didn’t
tell me.”

She
glanced away, then back at him. “It’s none of your business.”

Rising to his feet, he bumped against the table, sloshing
the coffee in his cup. “Don’t you
dare
say that to me! I had every right to know,
have
every right to be a part of her life.” His eyes stung and Travis thought he
might embarrass himself in the worst way.

The lump in his chest felt like a block of ice, but God,
his eyes burned with unshed tears. He felt utterly destroyed. A child. A
daughter. And the one woman in this world he loved had betrayed him in a cruel,
unforgivable way. The loss he felt, the ache, went so deep, he didn’t know if
he’d ever recover.

“Get out.”
Sam’s dark eyes glittered
with rage.

Travis stiffened. “I don’t think so. Not ‘til I’m ready.”
He clenched his fists at his sides to keep his hands from shaking. Travis
shifted his gaze from Sam to the little girl staring at him wide-eyed.

“Hello,
mister,” she said in a hesitant voice. “Please don’t be angry with my mommy.
She’s a nice lady, except when she makes me go to time out.”

Travis
couldn’t swallow past the lump in his throat. God, he was going to bawl like a
baby. He knelt in front of her and brushed a sprig of dark hair behind her ear.
“Do you have to go to time out very often?”

“No.” She shook her head. Her glossy pigtails swung like
pendulums down her narrow back. “I try hard to obey Mommy’s rules, but
sometimes I forget to pick up all my toys. I don’t cross the street without
looking twice, though, and I don’t speak to strangers. Are you a stranger?”

“No,
sweetheart, your mommy knows me…very well.”

“Do
I know you? Mommy doesn’t allow men in our home.”

“No,
but Grandma does,” Sam said quietly. She eyed her mother with tight
disapproval.

Mrs.
Brewster looked from her daughter to her granddaughter, then back to Travis.
Her face lit up with understanding. “Dear Lord, Sam, I didn’t know.”

Sam
nodded. “Neither did Travis…until now.”

Travis
clenched his jaw and rose to his feet. “You couldn’t keep something like this a
secret forever,” he snapped. “God. How could you do this to me?” He raked
unsteady hands through his hair. “I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me.”

“I
don’t like it when grownups fight,” Hayley said, her voice quivering.

Travis
dropped to his knees in front of his daughter again and tugged her close.
“We’re just having a grownup discussion, one that sounds very serious.” He
swallowed hard. His gaze left his daughter’s and shot to Sam, but Hayley wasn’t
in the mood to share.

“You’re tall,” she said, and took his hand. Frowning, she
looked at her mother. “Do you like the tall man, Mommy? I do.”

Sam
hesitated, then smiled. “Of course I like him. Mr. Bradley’s a good friend.”

“I
wish Mr. Bradley was my daddy. I miss having a daddy. Will you be my daddy, Mr.
Bradley?”

Travis
died a thousand deaths at her words. His heart clenched and the tears that had
threatened earlier welled into his eyes. He squeezed the child’s waist. “I’d be
most honored to be your daddy, honey.”

“Okay.
Maybe we can play games today. I have to stay home, because it’s a snow day.”

“We
have to go. Now,” Sam said in a tight voice.

Travis
hugged the child close to his chest, but cut his gaze up at Sam. “I want to see
her again.”

“No.”

“Let
me rephrase that. I’m
going
to see
her again.”

“No.
Let’s go.”

“Sam
—
”

“Now,
Travis!”

* * * *

Castle Rock, Colorado

Eight hours and forty-five minutes after the assassination…

Rafe
eyed Lacey’s smooth behind as she crossed the room headed to the shower. His
heart exploded with all the love that tied him to this one woman. At this
moment, life was perfect. Swear to God, he was never letting anything or anyone
come between them.

Reaching for his cell, he pressed the on button and
frowned. Five missed calls, all from Danger. Just as he started to hit the
return call, the cell chimed its familiar tune of Celine Dion’s
I Drove All Night,
not a particularly
masculine song, but one Lacey loved and had programmed into his cell.

Rafe
glared at the phone. Damn, the man simply refused to give up. He hit the talk
tab. “Yeah?” Irritation threaded his voice. He was fed up with Danger and the
way the man continued to intrude in the life he was building with Lacey.

“What
the hell have you been doing? Why didn’t you answer my calls?” Danger demanded.

“I’m
a newly married man,” Rafe retorted. “What the fuck do you think I was doing?”

A
long silence. “You enjoyed that. Didn’t you?”

“What?
Informing you I just finished making love to my wife for the fourth time
tonight or that yeah, it felt damn good and I enjoyed it immensely? And you can
do me the courtesy of not ringing my phone before daybreak!”

Danger
growled on the other end. “You bastard!”

Rafe raked fingers through his hair and released a long
breath. “Look, no. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, any of it. What goes
on between Lacey and me is our private business. But you caught me by surprise.
I don’t have to answer when you call, and neither does she. Understand, Danger,
Lacey’s my wife now. Leave us alone.”

“The
way
you
left us alone?”

“I
did leave you alone. You insisted I become a part of your life. You invited me
into your home, repeatedly. You invited me into Lacey’s bed. Don’t bellyache
now that your plans all worked better than you ever dreamed. So as I said,
leave us alone.”

“I’d
love to, but I need to speak to her. It’s urgent.”

“No.”

“Damn
it, Rafe!”

“My
God, haven’t you done enough to her? Caused her enough pain? No. I won’t let
you come between us. You nearly destroyed her once. I won’t watch you do it
again.”

“You
came between her and me.”

“I would have walked away. I did walk away, several times.
You put me in the middle, and it’s exactly where you wanted me. Jesus, Danger,
you practically told me to fuck her. What the hell is your problem? What’s so
damn urgent you think you have the right to call and harass us?”

“Let
me talk to her.”

“She’s
in the shower. If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll join my wife there and wash
her back.”

Another long silence, followed by the sound of a rough
swallow. “Rafe. Please. I wouldn’t call if it wasn’t important.”

“I
think you would. I think you knew damn well what we were doing, and you
couldn’t stand the thought that I was making love to Lacey. Get on with your
life and leave us the hell alone!”

“It’s
true. I can’t stand the thought of you touching her, but this has nothing to do
with my feelings for Lacey. Smitt Davis is alive, and he’s here.”

Rafe
tightened his hold on the cell and drew a shattered breath. “It sounds like you
have a problem on your hands. What exactly do you expect me to do about it?”

“Bring
Lacey back here.”

“Fuck
, no! Are you insane? How could you
even think I’d agree to that?”

“You
have to,” Danger insisted.

“No,
I don’t. Don’t call my number again!”

“Don’t
hang up! For God’s sake, Rafe, you have to bring her back to Rimrock. He killed
one of the paints. Smitt was in my barn, and he killed one of the mares. He
left one of his bloody notes. He wants Lacey back here or he’ll track her down.
He knows you’re headed to Texas with her.”

“How
does he know that?”

“I
don’t know, but he does. She’ll be safer here.”

“She
won’t be safer there. Hell,
he’s
there, right under your nose and you can’t catch him. How could she be safer?”

“Because
she’ll have you and me to protect her.”

Rafe
snorted. “Yeah, that worked so well for her last time.”

“Plus,
we’ll have the Remingtons.”

“Jace is out of commission. You know that.”

“Yes,”
Danger agreed, “but I’ll contact Duel. He can bring in Wild.”

“Isn’t
Wild still in Australia?”

“Shit.
Yes. I forgot. But he’ll come home if I call him.”

“Right,
because you and he are such good buddies. Wild isn’t going to stop searching
for his sister to come home and protect Lacey.”

“I
swear Lacey will be well guarded.”

“I
said, no. I’m not setting my wife up as a target to trap Smitt Davis. Are you
mad
?
She could get kil
—
”