Wed to the Witness (19 page)

“I can and I will.” She slapped her palms against his chest, shoved from his grasp. It hurt too much to be touched when her defenses were shattered. “I believed in you, Jackson. You didn't extend the same to me. As a matter of trust, it comes down to that.”

He held up a hand, palm toward her. “I admit to a momentary lapse in faith. I was angry, frustrated and going slowly crazy watching the visions tear you apart. And for what? All I could see was the rock-solid evidence the cops had that pointed to my guilt. That meant a prison cell was the only thing in my future. The fact that you wouldn't even accept that as a possibility tore at me. I wanted you to be prepared.” He closed his eyes for a brief instant. “I do believe in you, Cheyenne. In your gift. In everything you are.”

Weary, she raised a shoulder. She was too worn out to fight about it. Too many hours of lost sleep, too many images sliding into her head had left her numb. “All right, you believe. When you come down to it, that doesn't really matter at this point.” The ache inside her was like a burning. “What does matter is we've outlived our usefulness to each other.”

“You think I'll let you walk out? Just like that?”

The feral look in his eyes shot her heart into her throat. In defense, she took a step backward. “Jackson—”

“I don't care if I have to tie you to the bed, you're going to listen to what I came here to say.”

Nerves jittered up her spine and down again. “All right, have your say.”

“You're right when you say we got married when we did out of necessity. If this whole setup business hadn't happened, there's no way I'd have asked you to marry me—”

“That's my point.”

“It's not mine!” He blew out a breath between his teeth. “There's no way I would have asked you to marry me
this soon.
But I'd have gotten around to it eventually because I'm in love with you. I can't get through ten minutes without thinking about you, wanting you.” He shook his head. “Dammit, Cheyenne, nobody's ever gotten inside me this way. I've never wanted anyone else inside me this way. I can't let you walk away.”

“You love me?” Her voice thickened, and she swallowed to clear it. The shaft of hope was almost too painful. “You…never told me. You could have told me.”

“How? How could I have told you when all I could do was envision myself seeing you, wanting you,
loving
you with a set of bars separating us?” He reached for
her, his hands gentle now when he pulled her close and buried his face in her hair. “If I'd gone to prison it would have been easier for both of us if I had never said those words to you.”

She tilted her head back, wanting to accept, but afraid. “So much has happened, so fast. Maybe too fast. Maybe we need time to see if we can work.”

“I'll tell you what doesn't work.” As he spoke, he cupped her face in his hands. “Me without you. I found that out over the past twenty-four hours. Nothing in my life is right without you. Dammit, nothing
works.
I want a life with you, Cheyenne. I need that life. I'm sorry I hurt you. If you'll give me a chance, I'll spend the rest of my life showing you how much I believe in you.”

She stared into his eyes—those same gray eyes that had brought them together in a vision—and knew the words he spoke came from his heart. Suddenly, she felt the strength of his love flowing into her and her own heart opening to him.

“Jackson…” Her arms wrapped hard around him. “You love me.”

“More than anything,” he murmured as he rained kisses over her face. “And I've got to wonder if I'm crazy.”

She lifted a brow. “Because you fell in love with me?”

“No. Because here I am married to a woman, holding her, wanting to make love to her, and I'm wondering if she loves me back.”

“She does.” Touched, she lifted her hand to his cheek. “I knew you felt cornered enough without my telling you my true feelings.” She raised on tiptoe, brushed her lips against his. “I do love you, Jackson. More than anything.”

He cupped her face in his hands, his eyes intent on hers. “Will you marry me?”

“We're already married.”

“Again.” He nuzzled her throat. “For all the right reasons this time. After that we can have a big blowout, invite the whole town, if that's what you want.”

“Another wedding with our families there sounds good, but I'd rather have our own private celebration.” Her gaze slid to the bed, its comforter looking like a soft, peaceful valley. “Right here. Now.”

“My pleasure.” He kissed her long and hard, then tumbled with her onto the emerald softness.

T
he next morning, Patsy sat across from Joe at a glass-topped table in the courtyard, the morning sun streaming down on the newspaper propped in front of her. Behind her huge concealing sunglasses, her eyes narrowed as she read the slashing black headline that all but screamed Emmett Fallon had confessed to the two attempts on the life of Prosperino's favorite citizen.

With disgust fountaining inside her, Patsy dropped the paper, then picked up her coffee cup while she watched the man sitting across from her. His expression grim, Joe stared out at the sun-kissed sea while he sipped coffee from a thick-handled mug. A slight breeze lifted strands of his dark hair, but he didn't seem to notice. No doubt, he was mulling over the fact that a man he'd considered his friend for forty years had tried to kill him.

Contempt twisted in Patsy's stomach. If Emmett
hadn't been such a total screw-up he'd have killed Joe long ago and
she
would have inherited his fortune. She wouldn't be sitting here now, worried about collecting money from that bastard, Graham Colton.

The good news was that she seemed to have gotten away with setting up his son. Even though Emmett had probably claimed he had nothing to do with framing Jackson, the police couldn't be absolutely sure. Still, Emmett had confessed to the crimes, they had their prey in the trap—that was what the police would focus on. If she backed off, did nothing else to Jackson, she would stay in the clear.

Which was fine, because she needed to focus all her attention on Silas Pike. She would call him this morning, tell him he had better find the prey he sought if he expected to get more money out of her. Dammit, he
had
to find Emily!

Diamonds winked on her fingers as Patsy shoved her blond hair off her shoulder. Emily was out there somewhere. How hard could it be to find her?
Kill
her?

“Good morning, Dad. Meredith.”

The sound of Rand's voice had Patsy tightening her fingers on her cup as she glanced across her shoulder. He wore black slacks, a charcoal-colored shirt and sunglasses with lenses as dark as hers. She didn't have to see his eyes to feel them boring into her.

Remaining silent, she watched Joe swivel in his chair and smile. “Morning, son. You still insisting on leaving today so you can get back to that wife of yours?”

“I am.”

Joe nodded. “Need a ride to the airport?”

“Jackson's driving me.”

Patsy gave him a tight smile. “It's been wonderful having you home, son.”

“Thanks.” He placed a hand on her shoulder and leaned in. “I'm hoping to be back soon. Very soon.”

She gave Joe a quick glance to see if he'd picked up on the thread of menace in Rand's voice. Joe's smile told her he hadn't. Her hand trembled on the coffee cup; sweat beaded between her breasts. She closed her eyes. Get hold of yourself. You're a good actress. Act.

Reaching up, she patted his hand. “Soon is good.”

Patsy caught movement out of the corner of her eye and turned her head. Jackson strode across the courtyard, looking disgustingly happy. She still couldn't believe the explanation for how he'd managed to clear himself of the charges. His wife had a
vision!
Patsy wished both him and Cheyenne a speedy trip to hell.

“About ready to go, Rand?” Jackson asked.

“Yes. I was just telling Meredith I hope I'll be back soon.”

Patsy felt the weight of the world lift when Rand moved his hand from her shoulder.

Jackson nodded. “If that's the case, you'll have to come see Cheyenne and me at Hopechest Ranch. I told Uncle Joe last night that I've accepted a job offer from the Hopechest Foundation to act as legal advocate for the kids at the ranch. Cheyenne and I will live in her house there, for a while anyway.”

Joe shook his head in acceptance. “Hopechest's gain is Colton Enterprises' loss.”

Patsy watched Rand shake hands with Joe, saw the tenderness in the way the son squeezed his father's shoulder. In contrast, she had felt only a threat.

“Take care, Dad. I'll be in touch.”

Joe engulfed his oldest son in a bear hug. “You'd better be.”

“Yes,” Patsy murmured. “Stay in touch.” She reached for the coffeepot to refill her cup just as Cheyenne stepped out of the house.

Jackson turned his head, following Meredith's gaze. He pursed his lips when he saw his wife rushing across the courtyard. Five minutes ago, he had left her trembling and sated in the shower. Now, she was dressed in the hopelessly wrinkled shorts and T-shirt he'd stripped off her and tossed across the bedroom the evening before. Her long, black hair hung in a wet curtain across her shoulders, her eyes glowed with awareness.

When she reached his side, he took a handful of her wet hair and tugged her head back for a kiss. “You miss me so much you couldn't wait to see me again?” he murmured against her mouth.

“That, too,” she said, smiling up at him. “Right before I got out of the shower I had a vision.”

He flashed a devil's grin. “So did I.”

A blush started at her throat and rose to two bright spots on her cheekbones. “Hush.”

Joe put his head back and laughed. “Jackson, I
told
you it'd be a smart move to marry that girl.”

Jackson nodded, staring down into the face of the woman who in so short a time had become precious to him, vital to his life. “Best advice you've ever given me, Uncle Joe.”

Cheyenne slid her hand into his, then turned to Rand. “I wanted to catch you before you left. The vision I had was about you.”

Jackson scowled when Rand sent him a smug smile before saying, “Cheyenne, I'm flattered. But do you think it's wise to let your husband in on this?”

Cheyenne gave an exasperated shake to her head. “Has anyone ever mentioned that all Colton men think alike?”

“I've noticed that,” Meredith murmured.

Cheyenne looked back at Rand. “In my vision, I saw that you'll receive wonderful news when you get back to Washington. I wanted to let you know you have something to look forward to.”

Rand touched her cheek. “Any idea what that news is?”

“No.” Smiling, Cheyenne nuzzled against Jackson's side. “Just that it's something you've been waiting for a long time.”

 

Cheyenne was as good as her word, Rand thought as he stood at his desk in his Washington D.C. office, his suitcase sitting in the middle of the room. Face grim, he listened for the second time to the message Austin McGrath had left on his answering machine only fifteen minutes ago.

“I've found Meredith.” The private investigator's recorded voice echoed through the still air. “She's in Jackson, Mississippi, going by the name of Louise Smith. Apparently, Meredith's a victim of some form of amnesia. She's being treated by a Dr. Martha Wilkes, a specialist in repressed memory.”

With a hand not quite steady, Rand jotted down the phone number for the doctor the P.I. gave. He clicked
off the machine, then picked up the phone and dialed a number he'd recently memorized.

When the soft voice answered, he said, “Emily, it's Rand. Austin found our mother. Meet me in Jackson, Mississippi.”