To Wed and Protect (13 page)

Peaches had come home with them, along with a
bag of dog food, water and food dish and a large cage for housebreaking and nighttime sleeping.

When the two kids had fought over who got Peaches in their bedroom for the night, it was decided that Peaches' cage would stay in the living room with Luke.

Three days that week, Abby had gone with Luke to the ranch so he could get his twenty-five hours for the week in. She spent the hours sitting at a picnic table in the shade, watching the guests and reading a book.

However, it wasn't the dog or working at the family ranch that was on Luke's mind as he drove toward the Honky Tonk. He was nervous about leaving Abby alone.

There was absolutely no reason for him to be nervous. Justin had given no indication that he intended to do anything but battle them in a court of law, so there was really no reason to be worried.

It felt strange to be worried about somebody else. Luke had spent all his life until this point not worrying about anyone. But Abby pulled out of him feelings he'd never felt before.

Still, that certainly didn't change his plans for himself. He was going to be somebody, become somebody important. In six and a half months, he'd be gone from here, on his way to his destiny.

He parked his truck in the lot in front of the Honky Tonk. For a moment he sat and stared at the gawdy neon sign, the dusty, smoke-filled curtains that hung in the window. He hoped this was one of the last dives he'd ever have to work, that when he got to Nashville he'd be working better places.

He also knew this place was one of his greatest temptations. The moment he walked through the doors, he'd smell the booze in the air, get that old sweet yearning as each and every bottle in the place sang a siren song.

He thought of Abby's words, of her assurance that he was strong enough to make good choices. Funny, but he wanted to make good choices for her. He wanted to be a better man…for her. Sighing, he got out of the truck, slightly disturbed by thoughts of Abby.

Although it was only a few minutes before nine, the place was already jumping. As Luke grabbed his guitar from the back of his truck and headed toward the front door, music drifted out along with the sounds of raucous laughter and the clinking of beer bottles.

Luke entered the large, dimly lit bar and was greeted by half a dozen of the regular customers. He returned their greetings as he wove his way through the crowd toward the tiny stage.

The guest of honor, Jim Grogin, was seated with his wife and grown children at the table just in front of the stage. He stood as he saw Luke approach. “Luke, I'm so glad you could make it,” he said as he slapped Luke on the back. “When I heard that you'd gone and gotten yourself married, I wasn't sure you'd be here at all.”

“I wouldn't miss it,” Luke replied, and smiled warmly at the gray-haired man. He nodded to Jim's wife, Sadie, and to their two sons and their wives.

“Looks like you've got the whole gang here.”

Jim nodded. “All except the grandbabies.” His pale
blue eyes twinkled merrily. “Can't have my sweet grandbabies in a dive like this.”

“And the only way he got me into this dive is by promising me I would get to hear you sing,” Sadie said.

“Let me buy you a drink, son,” Jim said, and motioned for the waitress. “What will it be?” he asked.

“As I recall, you used to be a Scotch man.”

“Used to be, but now I'm strictly a soda man. I'll take a ginger ale,” he told the cute little waitress.

“So, tell me about the woman who finally managed to capture your heart,” Jim said. “I haven't seen her, but I heard through the grapevine that she's quite a looker with long dark hair and blue eyes.”

“Green,” Luke corrected. “Her eyes are green.” He smiled as he thought of those lovely green eyes. He'd learned to watch her eyes, knowing that her moods and feelings would be reflected there. She would make a terrible poker player—her eyes would never allow her to bluff.

“And I understand she's got a couple of children,” Jim continued. “I got a feeling she couldn't have picked a better stepdad for her babies. You learned firsthand about bad fathers. I got a feeling you're going to be a great one.”

His words filled Luke with a crazy kind of guilt. He wanted to confess to Jim that fatherhood wasn't part of the deal, that the whole marriage thing was merely temporary. Instead he excused himself, telling them he needed to get set up and ready to perform.

Setting up required little more than positioning the microphone and a chair in place on the stage. He'd
just finished doing that when the waitress came with his drink. “Just put it there on the edge of the stage,” he said, then did a quick tune-up of his guitar.

It was nearly ten when Luke began his first set. He sang for twenty minutes, singing songs requested by people who yelled out their favorites.

He set his guitar aside, downed his soda and grinned at the waitress, who instantly replaced it with a fresh one. He took a ten-minute break, visiting with people who had become acquaintances over the years, then he began another set that included a rousing version of “Happy Birthday” for the guest of honor.

He was into his third set when he noticed the stranger watching him intently from the back of the room. Although Abby had never given him a physical description of Justin Cahill, Luke instantly recognized him. Jason and Jessica had the dark eyes of their father and the same cheekbones and slender face.

The man had the shoulders of a steroid freak, thick and bulging, made more apparent by the tank top he wore. There was a challenging glint in his dark eyes as he held Luke's gaze from across the room.

Luke was unsurprised when he finished the set and Justin Cahill stood at the foot of the stage. “Thought it was time I introduced myself to you. I'm Justin Cahill.” He held his hand out for a shake.

Luke looked at his hand, the hand that Abby believed had killed her sister, and he deliberately shoved his own hands deep into his pockets.

Justin's eyes flared with the heat of suppressed rage. “So that's the way it is,” he said tightly.

“It would appear that's the way it is,” Luke replied.

Justin took a step toward him, invading Luke's personal space, but Luke didn't give the man the satisfaction of stepping back. “I just thought I'd stop by and let you know that there is no way in hell you're getting my kids. They belong to me.”

Not “with me” but rather “to me.” A definite indication that the man had no right to have his children. “We'll just have to wait and see about that, won't we?” Luke replied, refusing to rise to the man's baiting tone.

“I'm just giving you a friendly heads-up. I don't intend to lose this fight.” With those final words Justin spun on his heels and headed for the exit.

Luke grabbed his soda and downed it, feeling as if he needed to wash a very bad taste out of his mouth. He set the empty glass down and headed for the back office of the tavern, where he knew there was a telephone.

“Toby, can I use the phone?” he asked the owner of the Honky Tonk, who sat at his desk going over paperwork.

“Help yourself.” Toby waved toward the phone on the corner of the desk, not taking his gaze from his work.

Luke grabbed the receiver and quickly dialed. “Abby,” he said when he heard her voice at the other end of the line. “Justin was just in here and just left. That means he knows you and the kids are there alone. He probably won't bother you, but I'm leaving here now and should be there in fifteen minutes.”

“I'll keep the doors locked until I hear your voice,” Abby said.

“Trouble?” Toby asked.

“Nothing I can't handle,” Luke replied. “Would you do me a favor and lock up my guitar? I'm just going to sneak out the back door.”

“Sure, no problem,” Toby replied.

Luke started out of the office, but hesitated in the doorway, a wave of dizziness overtaking him. He shook his head, thinking he must have moved too fast, then headed out the back door.

He stepped into the night air, and the ground seemed to be moving, twisting and undulating beneath his feet. He slammed his back against the building and closed his eyes, drawing deep breaths and fighting against the blackness he sensed descending.

His drink. Justin must have put something in his drink. He shook his head again and took several steps forward. The blackness reached out, insidiously pulling Luke in.

Abby,
his mind cried. It was his last conscious thought.

A
bby sat in the darkened living room staring out the front window, watching for Luke's truck. The house was quiet around her except for an occasional tiny whine from Peaches in her cage.

It had been almost thirty minutes since Luke had called, and she expected to see the headlights of his truck at any moment.

Luke hadn't gone into any real detail about seeing Justin, and curiosity burned inside her as she wondered what had happened, what had been said between the two men.

Peaches whined again, and Abby made her way through the darkness to the cage. “What's the matter, baby?” she asked softly. The dog nudged her cold, wet nose against her hand.

She knew if the light were on she would be able to see Peaches' beautiful liquid brown eyes gazing at her
adoringly. She opened the cage, lifted the puppy into her arms and was instantly rewarded with a wet lick along her neck.

She returned to her chair and put Peaches on her lap. The dog wiggled and squirmed for a moment, then settled down, snuggling against her with a sigh of contentment.

As Abby returned her gaze to the window, she stroked the silky fur. The dog had already wrought a miracle of sorts earlier that evening. As the two kids were playing with her in the living room, Abby had heard Jessica tell the dog she loved her.

“I love you, Peaches,” Jessica had said loud and clear. The first words Abby had heard her speak since her mother's murder. Abby hadn't said anything, hadn't even indicated she'd heard, but her heart had expanded with joy as she realized there was a healing taking place in both the children.

First thing in the morning the social worker was to arrive to look around. Abby had spent most of the evening making sure everything was neat and clean, looking at each room with an objective eye.

Although there was work that needed to be done in several areas of the house, she didn't think the social worker would count any of that against them. The house was clean, but had a lived-in feeling. It was obviously a home filled with warmth and love.

Making love to Luke again had deepened her feelings for him, and she knew eventually she'd be left with a heartache. She suspected that Luke's confession of being a recovering alcoholic had been an effort to warn her away. Just as he'd distanced her the first time
they'd made love, she had a feeling he'd attempted to do the same the second time they'd made love.

But she knew in her heart, in her soul, that Luke was a good man, and she prayed that he would continue to stay strong and sober. Whether he was with her or not, she wanted that for him.

She sat straighter in the chair as she saw twin headlights pierce the night, heading in the direction of her house. Luke. Finally. She breathed a sigh of relief. She didn't realize how tense she'd been until some of that tension seeped out of her.

As the vehicle drew closer, her anxiety returned, exploding through her veins. It wasn't Luke's familiar pickup making its way toward the house, but an unfamiliar compact car.

Who was it? It was certainly too dark for her to be able to see the occupant of the car. Who would be driving to her house in the middle of the night?

Justin.

His name rang in her ears as fear turned her icy cold. Peaches, who'd fallen asleep on her lap, lifted her head and growled deep in her throat.

Abby put the dog on the floor and raced to the front door, assuring herself that it was locked tight. She grabbed the cordless phone and ran to the door, peering through the small diamond-shaped window in the wooden door.

The car pulled up directly in front of her porch and sat there idling for several long, torturous minutes. Knowing that Luke should be pulling in any minute, Abby was hesitant to call the sheriff, especially since at the moment she wasn't even positive it was Justin.

As she watched, the driver got out of the vehicle and stretched his arms overhead, as if he'd been driving a long distance and was stiff. As the moonlight fell full on his features, Abby recognized that it was, indeed, Justin.

Abby remained at the door and quickly punched in the numbers she had memorized that would ring the phone in the sheriff's office.

Sheriff Broder answered on the first ring.

“This is Abby Graham. Please come to my place quickly. I need help.”

“On my way,” Sheriff Broder responded.

As Abby punched the phone off, Justin sauntered to the front door. Heart pounding frantically, Abby put her weight against the door even though she knew in the back of her mind that no lock and certainly not her inconsequential body weight would keep Justin out if he wanted in.

“Abby.” He knocked lightly on the door. Peaches growled, then barked low and deep in her puppy throat.

“Get out of here, Justin,” she said, trying to keep her voice low enough so she wouldn't awaken Jason and Jessica. She didn't want them to experience the pulse-pounding fear that rocked through her.

“What's the matter, Abby? Do I make you nervous?” He chuckled, the sound once again turning Abby's blood to ice. He banged a fist against the door. Abby jumped and swallowed the scream that nearly escaped her.

“You bitch. You stole my kids. Did you think I wouldn't find you? Did you really think you could get
away from me?” He banged the door again, then laughed. “Loretta always said I made her nervous.”

White-hot rage swept through Abby as he spoke her sister's name. He was the monster who had stolen Loretta from the people who loved her. “I've called the sheriff, Justin. He'll be here any moment.”

Again he laughed, a wicked, evil sound that sent icy fingers up Abby's spine. “Don't worry, Abby. When I decide to get you, you won't have time to call the sheriff. You won't have time to do anything.” He didn't wait for her to reply, but walked off the porch and back to his car.

She watched as he drove off into the night, the darkness eventually swallowing the taillights of his car. She sagged against the door, hot tears scalding her cheeks.

They were tears of fear, tears of relief, and most of all, they were tears for the sister who was no longer with her. She was almost sorry Justin hadn't done something violent, something totally out of control that would see him permanently behind bars.

He'd only come for one thing, to mentally terrorize her. It had been a cat-and-mouse game. Damn him. Damn him to hell. And where…where was Luke?

She returned to her seat, Peaches once again in her lap, and stared out the window. At that moment she saw the whirling red lights that indicated Sheriff Broder was coming toward the house.

She met him on the porch and quickly explained to him what had happened. He seemed already to know that Luke was playing at the bar and assured Abby he would keep an eye on the place until Luke got home.

Abby went inside, assured by the presence of the sheriff but disturbed by Luke's absence. Where was he? Why wasn't he home yet? If he'd left as soon as he called, he should have been home by now.

As the seconds and minutes ticked by, her mind whirled with possibilities. Maybe he'd gotten held up at the party. One of the things she'd made clear to him was that she didn't expect him to change his lifestyle because of their marriage. But he said he'd be right home, a small voice niggled inside her head.

When an hour had passed, she fought the edges of panic that attempted to creep into her mind. She thought of calling one of Luke's relatives, but knew if nothing was wrong Luke would be angry at her decision.

And so she did nothing. She sat in the chair, staring into the darkness, a sentry guarding her children and waiting for the man she loved to return home.

She awakened with a start, torn from a horrible nightmare. She gasped and opened her eyes to brilliant morning sunshine pouring through the window and a wet tongue licking her cheek.

A new sense of panic ripped through her as she gazed at her watch and saw that it was seven-thirty and Luke still hadn't come home. The sheriff's car, which had been outside her home when she'd fallen asleep, was gone.

With a groan, she unfolded her stiff body and stood. The social worker would be here in an hour and a half, and somehow Abby had to act like everything was normal.

The first order of the day was to let Peaches outside.
When Peaches was finished with her business, Abby and the dog returned to the house. Abby checked on the children, who were still sleeping soundly, fed Peaches, then headed for a shower.

As she stood beneath the hot spray of water, her mind raced frantically. She thought of everything she had heard about Luke when he'd first come to work for her.

He drank too much, lived too fast, didn't take care of himself and took nothing seriously. He loved women and had a reputation as a charming rake. But she had come to see him as nothing like the man the rumors had portrayed.

She'd seen his innate warmth both with the children and with herself. She knew there was far more to the man than his reputation or the face he showed to the people in this town. Otherwise she wouldn't love him.

So, why hadn't he come home? And what should she do about it? She was nothing to him but a pleasant diversion. Theirs certainly wasn't a real marriage, it was a marriage created for the good of Jessica and Jason. What right did she have to set in motion a search? And how would such a search by the sheriff affect the custody suit?

But what if there had been an accident? What if Luke was hurt somewhere? What if he needed help? Oh, God, she was so confused.

By the time she got out of the shower, she'd made a decision. She would do nothing about Luke's absence until after the social worker left. She'd meet with Sonya Watkins and make a vague excuse about
Luke having to work. She'd pretend that everything was fine and pray that it would be.

But when Sonya Watkins left, Abby intended to tear up the phone lines, seeking Luke's whereabouts, no matter what the repercussions.

By the time she and the kids were dressed and had eaten breakfast and cleaned up the kitchen, Sonya Watkins had arrived.

Sonya was a plump woman in her mid-fifties who radiated confidence and warmth. She greeted Abby and the two children with a smile that was obviously meant to put them all at ease.

But Abby wasn't put at ease. She was aware that this woman with her cheerful smile and twinkling blue eyes was here to do a job and held an enormous amount of power as to the future of the children.

“What I would love to do first is see the children's bedrooms,” she said. “Jason, would you like to show me your room?”

“Sure,” Jason replied easily. He led the way down the hall to his room, Sonya following him and Jessica and Abby following Sonya.

Abby and Jessica stood in the doorway as Jason showed Sonya all the treasures his room contained. When Sonya had seen his book collection, his favorite truck, his ant farm and the rest of his goodies, she moved on to Jessica's room.

It was obvious she'd been told that Jessica didn't talk, for she asked no questions that would demand a reply from the little girl. She oohed and aahed over Jessica's stuffed animal collection and pretended to drink a cup of tea from a tiny plastic cup.

Abby returned to the kitchen and waited for Sonya to join her there. “Nice house,” she said.

“Thank you. We still have some work to do, but my husband has already accomplished a lot.”

“Yes, I expected to see your husband here this morning,” Sonya said.

“Unfortunately, he got called away on business,” Abby said, hoping the woman wouldn't pursue the subject. She didn't. She spoke to Abby about the children's routine, their school and their therapy.

Abby tried to stay cool and calm and answer all the questions, address any concerns, but her heart cried out. Where was Luke? Why wasn't he here? She prayed that wherever he was he was safe and unharmed.

 

Luke opened his eyes and instantly closed them to shut out the glare of the mid-morning sun. Dreaming. He had to be dreaming that he was in the alley behind the Honky Tonk.

He closed his eyes, for a moment drifted in a kind of foggy reality, then opened them once again.

It was still the alley. What was he doing here? What had happened? His mouth was dry, achingly dry. He started to sit up, then moaned and grabbed his head.

Hellfire, had he tied one on? He plucked at his shirt and wrinkled his nose. He certainly smelled like a brewery.

He'd never had a hangover like this. His skull felt as if it had been stuffed with rocks, and he felt disoriented, drugged.

Drugged.

Suddenly the fog fell away and he remembered. He'd had a restrained confrontation with Justin Cahill. Then he'd done something incredibly stupid—he'd downed a drink that had been sitting on the edge of the stage unattended.

Abby! Her name exploded in his head, and this time, ignoring the utter agony of his head, he jumped up from the ground and headed for his truck.

Let her be all right. Let Abby be all right.
The words were a litany that raced around and around in his head as he pressed his foot firmly on the gas pedal.

Had Justin planned this? Had he drugged Luke to make certain he'd be out of the way, incapacitated? Had he left the Honky Tonk and driven to Abby's? Stormed the house and taken the children by force? Had Abby been hurt…or worse?

The fear that ripped through him was suddenly joined with a new emotion—rage. His rage was directed at the man who was at the bottom of all this.

Justin Cahill. If Luke discovered that he'd harmed Luke's wife or children, then Luke would personally hunt the man down and kill him with his bare hands.

As Luke turned into the driveway of the house, he was met by a car leaving. The driver of the car was a plump, gray-haired woman. She waved as they passed one another.

Relief made him gasp aloud as he saw Abby standing on the porch. He parked the truck, and before he got the door open, she was there.

He stepped out of the truck, and she threw herself into his arms. “Oh Luke, I've been worried sick,” she
said, her face buried in his chest. “I was so afraid something bad had happened to you.”