The images came on so quickly, biting into Jon’s consciousness as he worked the bar of soap into a lather in the shower. Soaping up one arm, he felt an odd tenderness around his wrist, and suddenly both forearms were bruised and raw, encased in unforgiving steel bands. Handcuffs. The soap dropped to the shower floor as he held his arms up to the warm spray and studied his skin. Nope, normal. All a trick of his mind, which was the last thing he needed this morning, his first day back at school. He reached for the shampoo bottle and leaned against the shower wall, trying to relax as hot beads of water pelted his skin. How could his mother think it would be good for him to get back to school? Despite his protests, she and Mc Pherson had cooked up this morning’s plan, clueless to the dangers that awaited him there. Maybe the halls were safe for a normal kid, but he was no normal kid. Hard to believe that after all this time, his mom still didn’t get it. His fingers raked through his hair, scraping lather over his scalp. A glob of foam ran down over one eye. When he quickly swiped it away and opened his eyes, he was staring out through bars—some sort of metallic cage. Staring out through dark glass windows as a blur of lands cape raced past the speeding vehicle that propelled him forward against his will. What the hell...? Panic surged through him as he flattened his palms against one window and banged in desperation. He had to get out! Why couldn’t anyone see him, hear his cries? His hands coiled into fists that pounded the glass in desperation. And just as suddenly, the dark window beneath his hands became the white fiberglass wall of the shower stall. The roar of the vehicle’s engine was now the sizzle of the water as it sprayed over him. It was all in his head. Another freakin’ vision. Quickly, he rinsed himself and cut the shower off. His heart was still pounding as he threw the curtain aside and st epped out into billowing clouds of steam. What the hell did it all mean, handcuffs and a cage inside a car? Was Todd planning some kind of kinky torture for him now? He toweled off, trying to shake off the weird vision. When he wiped the layer of moisture from the mirror over the sink, he was surprised by his own reflection: the curve of the muscles in his arms and shoulders. Bic eps. Working out with Daegan was beginning to pay off. Another few weeks and he’d actually be buff. If, of course, Daegan was going to stay another few weeks, which he wasn’t. Wrapping a towel around his waist, Jon decided he shouldn’t let his new pumped-up body go to waste. Sign-ups for track were going on at school, and Jon knew he was a fast runner. He would sign up today, but Mom didn’t have to know until after the tryouts. The last thing he needed was her pushing him to get out there and make some friends. Yeah, right. He pulled on jeans, a T-shirt, and a flannel shirt, then hearing his mother downstairs in the kitchen, cr ept into her bedroom. The top drawer of her dresser was where she k ept loose change, old bills, photographs, and family documents. Somewhere in these stacks of folders and envelopes was his birth certificate, which he’d need to sign up for the track team. Reaching into the drawer, he sifted through papers, thumbing the corner of files marked: BILLS, TAXES, and MEDICAL. His birth certificate was in a folder on the bottom, its embossed seal from the Commonwealth of Massachusetts catching his eye as he slid it out.
Did his mom ever wish she’d stayed in Boston? He wondered about it sometimes, but always figured she’d needed to get away from the memory of his dad. The crystal paperweight on the dresser glimmered in the dim lamplight as he slid the drawer closed. Mom had always loved this thing, a glass porcupine. He picked it up in one palm and immediately felt seared by the energy en capsulated in the glass. A name flashed before him: Tyrell Clark. He wasn’t familiar with the name, but it had popped quickly into his mind along with a vision of a dark-haired man in a fancy suit. Tall, dark, handsome, and a little cheesy. Jon didn’t know who the man was, but he sensed his mother’s strong disdain for him. And his mom... she was so much younger, like a college kid, her brown eyes outlined in makeup. “I’m offering you a son,” Tyrell says as he tosses the glass paperweight into the air and catches it. “No strings attached.” He can feel his mother’s shock and fear. “You—you want me to adopt him?” Adoption... Stunned, Jon fell back onto her bed and let the crystal paperweight drop from his hands to the thick comforter. Adoption? It couldn’t be true. His father was Jim Summers, the man who was killed when he was... He stared at the birth certificate in his hand, the sharp pain in his gut telling him to put the facts together. It was true. Undeniable. Hadn’t he always wondered why he didn’t resemble his mother? He was adopted, and she’d been lying to him all along... all his life. Fifteen years old, and so far, his entire life was a lie. Kate hung up the phone, but the sound of Don Mc Pherson’s voice rang in her head. True, he was giving Jon another chance but there had been a hint of doubt in his words. She knew that de ep down the vice principal was hoping that Jon would transfer to a different school and become one less problem for Don Mc Pherson. “Jon,” she called up the stairs. “Hurry up. The bus’ll be here in less than ten minutes.” “I know,” he said and thundered down the stairs, his hair still wet, his expression unforgiving. He blamed her for forcing him to go back to school. She had his breakfast, toaster waffles and orange juice, on the counter. He ignored the food and snagged his backpack and jacket from pegs mounted near the back door. “I’ll be home late,” he said, reaching for the doorknob. “Late? Why?” He stared at her and his expression didn’t soften. “Group project.” It was a lie and they both knew it. “Can’t you do it here?” “No, Ma, we can’t.” He opened the door and she reached forward, not wanting him to leave with such bad feelings—hoping to mend fences. “If you want, I could drive you,” she offered, but he just stared at her hand, touching his bare arm, and he swallowed hard. Drawing away from her, he took a st ep back. “Jesus.” “Jon?”
Running his tongue around his teeth, he shook his head. “No,” he whispered, his voice strange and unfamiliar. “I—I don’t believe it.” “What?” “You... you’ve lied to me.” “About what?” she asked, but his eyes, wide and serious, glared at her, and he swallowed as if there wasn’t a drop of spit in his mouth. “Who’s Tyrell Clark?” “Oh, God.” Her knees nearly buckled. Somehow he’d broken through and seen her thoughts. “Who is he?” Jon demanded, his voice rough, his expression still as death. “A man—he’s dead now,” she admitted, her throat barely working, her insides trembling. Why hadn’t she told him before? Why did she let it go so long so that he had to find out this way? “You’re not my real mother,” he accused her, backing away from her as if being in the same room was against everything in which he believed. “Oh, God, you’re not my mother!” “Of course I am.” “But I’m adopted!” he accused her. “Adopted!” There it was, hanging in the air between them. The lie. The one they’d lived with for fifteen years. “Yes,” she admitted, her voice catching. There was no reason to ke ep up pretenses any longer. All the lies she’d so carefully constructed over the years were falling around her feet in ruin and dust. “I—I adopted you. Soon after Jim and Erin died,” she said, her voice empty. “And I wouldn’t have loved you any more if I’d carried you in my body and—” “Don’t!” he said, nearly frantic, his hands on either side of his head. “This Tyrell guy—was he my father?” “No—I don’t think so.” “This is so weird,” he said, eyes blazing with accusations. “Were you ever going to tell me?” “Of course.” “When?” “When the time was right,” she said, trying to stay calm though her heart was thundering and her throat was tight. “And when was that going to be?” Tell the truth, Kate. Don’t back down now. No matter how much it hurts. “I don’t know. I—I wanted to, but you were too young to understand, and then, once you were older, I was afraid.” “Of what?” “That I’d lose you,” she admitted. “I can’t believe this.” He looked at her as if she were the embodiment of evil, as if everything she’d ever taught him wasn’t to be trusted, as if his entire life was a lie.
“Jon—” She reached forward, but he st epped away, as if afraid to let her touch him again. “I think we should talk this out.” “No way! I don’t want to talk about it. You lied to me. Daegan lied to me. Everyone lied to me.” “No! Oh, baby, no.” “Don’t call me that ever again. I’m not and never will be your baby.” Angrily he shoved his arms into the sleeves of his jacket. “If you don’t want to go to school, if you want to ask me any questions —” “Why? So you can lie to me again?” he said, nearly tripping over Houndog as he backed to the door, and for the first time since he’d been in the fight with Todd, he seemed anxious to return to Hopewell High. His fingers scrabbled for the knob. “We’ll talk about this tonight, when you get home. I’ll explain everything.” “You bet you will,” he said, his lips white with fury. “Jon, trust me—” He made a sound of disgust de ep in his throat. “I think it’s only fair that I know who I really am.” “You’re my son,” she called after him, but he was already off the porch and running through the blanket of snow, his head ducked against the wind. “You always will be.” But her words bounced off the walls of the little house and echoed around her, mocking her—calling her every kind of fool, letting her know that she’d lost her boy forever. “Damn it,” she muttered, fighting tears, her fists curled into balls of frustration. She couldn’t lose him! No way. No how. Jon was her son and he was only fifteen, not old enough to make any life-altering decisions. He might be hurt or angry, but he was still her boy and she’d fight tooth and nail to prove it. She was still trying to pull herself together when she heard the rumble of a truck’s engine, and her heart, in eager anticipation, kicked into high gear. Houndog began barking, and through the window she saw Daegan’s ugly green pickup and the cowboy himself, stretching out of the cab. Her breath caught somewhere de ep in her lungs at the sight of him, tall and lean, his features as rough-hewn as the mountains to the west. A stranger and yet intimate, a man she didn’t dare trust but to whom she’d already carelessly given her heart. Before his boots stopped ringing on the st eps of the porch, she flung open the door. “Hi, I—Something’s wrong,” he guessed, his eyes narrowing on her face. “Jon?” “He’s... he’s fine, I think,” she said, drawing on some inner reserve of strength she didn’t know she had. “Or he will be.” “Neider used him for a punching bag?” “That’s part of the problem.” How much did she dare tell him? He was leaving soon anyway; what could he possibly care about her or her son? Yet the glint of anger in his eyes convinced her that in his own way he was concerned. “What’s the other part?” “It’s personal.” He waited, kicking the door closed with his foot.
“I don’t suppose it matters anymore,” she allowed. Now that Jon knew the truth, there was no reason to protect him any longer. “Jon and I got into an argument this morning,” she admitted, watching Daegan’s reaction. “And... and he found out that he’s adopted.” A jolt, like a ragged bolt of lightning, passed behind Daegan’s eyes. “I thought—” Waving away his arguments, she said, “I told everyone he was mine, including Jon, and there just never seemed the right moment to explain that he was adopted.” Tears burned behind her eyes but she wouldn’t give in to them. “It doesn’t matter to me that someone else gave him life. I love him as much as if I’d carried him for nine months. Oh, I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. Jon will come home after school, we’ll hash this out and then, I suppose, if he wants to, I’ll help him try to locate his birth parents.” “Who are?” he prodded, an edge to his voice. “I don’t know.” How much should she confide? How much could she? She let out a sigh. “But you didn’t come here to listen to me go on and on.” Her heart tugged as she met his gaze. “I thought you were leaving.” “Tonight.” Oh, God. Her world was crumbling apart. “So soon?” “I’ll be back to move the animals, but I’ve got some business I’ve got to take care of and it won’t wait.” Her throat was suddenly clogged and her heart beat a desperate, painful rhythm. “Jon will miss you.” “And you?” he asked, st epping closer to her, studying her with an intensity that burned straight to her soul. “No way,” she lied, but her lip quivered, belying her words. His gaze shifted, and slowly he lowered his head, brushing his mouth over hers so gently she thought her heart would surely break. “Good thing you’re so tough,” he said, then linked his fingers through hers. “Come on. Grab a jacket.” “Why?” “I think you need to get out of here.” “But my job—” He leveled a flinty gaze at her that cut her to the quick. “You deserve a day off.” “You make it sound very appealing, but I’m not the sort of person who blows off work just because...” Because my world is falling apart, she wanted to say. Because you’re leaving and it’s my last chance to be near you, to savor your lips brushing against mine the way they just did. “Come on, Kate.” His fingers tightened over her hands, seductive and convincing, chasing away any lingering doubts. “It’s my last day in Hopewell.” Liar. All these years his mother had been a liar. Correction... the woman he’d thought was his mother. Jon kicked at a stone along the roadside, sending it skittering ahead over the frozen earth into a ditch. She’d lied to him all along, treated him like a baby, an idiot who couldn’t handle the truth. Her dec eption made Jon feel sick, his emotions raw and tender at the knowledge that she’d controlled and manipulated his life all these years, hiding the things that were most important. He was in no mood to actually go to school now, but he didn’t have much choice. On a frozen autumn day in Hopewell, Oregon, there weren’t a lot of
recreational options for kids cutting school. He would get on the bus, ke ep his head down, eyes on the ground, and push through the day. Basic survival was the only plan for a day like today. His feet scraped the ground, the toe of his sneaker rolling a handful of pebbles down toward a white van on the side of the road. Some guy kneeled beside it—no one Jon recognized. The man was working a jack under the van, just r eplacing a tire. Seeing that no traffic was in sight, Jon cut a wide swath around the van, st epping onto the black tar roadway. “Pretty cold morning,” the man called cheerfully. His breath lingered in puffs before his face. “Yeah.” Jon walked past the van as a few snowflakes sank through the air. Snow... what else could go wrong? An inch or two of snow and they’d close the school, sending him home to have to deal with her... his so-called mother. “Hey, can you give me a hand?” the man asked, interrupting Jon’s thoughts. Jon turned and saw that the man was now in front of the van, tire iron in one hand. He wore a belted leather coat—one of those long coats that came down to his knees. The guy had to be a city slicker, not from around here. “I have to catch my bus,” Jon said, gesturing down the road. The man’s smile was making him uncomfortable. “I don’t think so, Jon,” the man said, quickly pushing back his coat and pulling something from his waistband. A gun... pointed right at Jon. Jon’s throat went dry. Shit! “How do you know my name?” The man nodded toward the back of the van. “Get in. We’ll have time to talk inside. Plenty of time.” Quickly, Jon weighed his options. He was a fast runner. If he made a break for it, he could be down the road in seconds, darting off the roadside to hide behind trees or bushes. He was fast... but a bullet was faster, and the ditch at the roadside was too ste ep to cross. He’d be trapped down there, a clear target. He strained to hear the rumble of an approaching car, the hum of tires on pavement, but there was only silence. A passing car could save him now, but who was going to be heading this way at this time of the morning? Sure, the school bus would pull by the intersection ahead, but that was a good half mile away, out of sight. His eyes swung back to the gun, the metal pistol aimed at his heart and coming closer as the man approached. “Got a problem, kid?” the man said, striding toward him. Ke eping the gun trained on Jon’s chest, he reached down and snapped something over Jon’s right wrist. “Hands in front of you,” he ordered, and when Jon raised his arms, he watched as the cuff was clipped over his left wrist. Handcuffs. The sight sent him reeling back to the vision. Oh, God. His throat grew tight, knowing the future, knowing that his wrists would become red and raw from trying to writhe out of these things. It would hurt like hell, but he’d have to try. He had to get away from this man, because everything in his gut told him this guy was the one chasing him in his nightmares. The killer. Oh, God. This was the man... the gun... His heart pounded, his pulse thrumming at the realization that this was the man who wanted to end his life.
“That’s better,” the man said, his tone light, as if they were talking about the weather. “Things’ll go a hell of a lot better if you follow along, Jon. Now, into the van.” When Jon approached the passenger door, he shook his head. “Nah, no death seat for you, kid. You’re riding in the back. I told your grandfather I’d take good care of you. Luxury accommodations all the way.” “My grandfather?” Jon said. “He’s been dead a long time. You got the wrong person, man.” “You Jon Summers?” the man pulled open the back door of the van. When Jon nodded, he said, “Then you’re mine now, kid. You’re all mine.” Glancing into the van, Jon felt fear stab through his chest at the sight of the bars s eparating the front seat from the back. Here was the metallic cage... the dark tinted glass... the horrors of his vision. His nightmare was unfolding before him. He had seen his own death in his dreams, and now his life was collapsing around him. “Come on, kid,” the man said, shoving Jon into the darkness. “We’ve got miles to go before we sle ep.” I will always remember this day, Kate thought as she watched Daegan saddle both horses. First Jon learning that he was adopted, and now Daegan leaving... it was too much to absorb, too much difficult emotion jam-packed into a short period of time. As soon as Kate had called the college, they’d driven over to Daegan’s place, where he’d filled a thermos with coffee and started saddling the horses, despite the cold temperatures. Inside the old Mc Intyre barn, away from the wind, it was warmer, but the animals snorted nervously as their hooves pawed the straw in anticipation of the cold outside. Bridles jangled as Daegan snapped them into place. “If you haven’t noticed,” she said, eyeing him suspiciously as he packed the thermos into a battle-scarred saddlebag, “it’s snowing outside.” He shrugged. “A few little flakes. Nothing to worry about.” “Nearly a blizzard,” she protested. He buckled the saddlebag and extra blanket behind the saddle, then threw her a look over his shoulder. “Not in Montana, it isn’t. Come on, let’s get you better acquainted with Loco, here.” “I should have my head examined,” she muttered under her breath but followed him outside. He rode Buckshot and she settled into the gray’s saddle, following the colt through a gate to a longer field that wound up through the foothills. The wind was chill against her back, but there was an air of exhilaration about riding through the snow-crusted fields and across a small creek that was nearly frozen. Only a trickle of water still gurgled over ice-covered rocks. Daegan sat tall in the saddle, reining in the nervous colt, ke eping to a steady path that curved past a thicket of naked trees far from the house. Twisting upward through a narrow draw, the trail cut through the ste ep hills to level at a ridge overlooking the valley. Far below she saw her house, snow piling on the roof. Daegan helped her off, spread a bedroll over the ground, and poured coffee into the metal cup of the thermos. “I discovered this place the second week I was here. Seems like a good spot to unwind.” “And why would you need to ‘unwind’?” she asked, the warmth of her cup se eping through her gloves.
“Everyone does. Thought it might help you today.” “And the day is yet young.” She laughed without much mirth. “What is it, not quite nine-thirty, and it already seems like a torture that’s gone on for hours?” He grinned that sexy off-center smile that caused her heart to skip a beat, then took a swallow straight from the thermos. “Things can only get better.” Not when I know you’re leaving. “Oh yeah, how?” “You want me to show you?” She licked her lips. “Show me what?” “This.” His lips were feather-light and laced with coffee as they slid over hers. “And this.” He set his thermos in the snow, took the cup from her fingers and wedged it up against the root of a tree, then wrapped his arms around her. Gazing into her eyes, he settled his mouth over hers, and a part of her, a vital, very feminine part, responded. He made no promises, told her no lies, but kissed her so hard she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Snowflakes fell from the sky, catching in his hair and on her eyelashes, and yet her skin was warm, her heart a wild drum, the ache de ep within her beginning to pulse. “Kate,” he mouthed against her skin. “Kate, Kate, Kate.” His voice cracked and she nearly cried. He was leaving and she couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing him again, never touching him, never hearing his voice. She kissed him desperately, her hands holding his face, her eyes burning with tears. Don’t leave me, she silently begged, though her pride wouldn’t allow her to whisper so much as a tiny plea. He kissed her lips, her cheeks, the shell of her ear, and she quivered inside, wanting more, kissing and touching and tasting him, believing that this crystalline morning was the last time she’d ever feel like a woman, ever have a chance to make love with him. Gaze still locked with hers, he yanked off his gloves with his teeth and his fingers found the zipper of her jacket. It slid quickly open and Kate didn’t protest, but helped him shed the unwanted denim. He trembled as she kissed him back, her tongue finding his, her passion colliding with his, her heart thundering in a shared cadence with his. Groaning, he lifted her sweater over her head then slid the strap of her bra over her arm to free her breast. Snowflakes collected on her bare skin and he kissed them away before the powdery sprigs of ice could melt. “Daegan,” she cried as cold air blew over her nipple and it puckered. His tongue, hot and slick, rimmed the anxious bud. “Please,” she cried, bowing upward, tangling her fingers in his thick hair, wanting so much. She ached inside with yearning, a throb so de ep it pulsed in the darkest part of her. Finally his lips clamped over her nipple and she cried out as he suckled hard and firm, pulling and drawing while his thumb teased her other breast. The world began to spin as his tongue tickled and teased. Love me, oh, Daegan, please, just love me! His fingers skimmed her skin as they moved lower to the waistband of her jeans. With a quick hiss the zipper gave way and he slid his fingers over her skin, shucking off her jeans to delve beneath the elastic of her panties, skimming hot fingers over the nest of curls at the juncture of her legs. Her hips lifted of their own accord and he kissed her there, through the nylon, hot breath against cold skin and moist curls. “Be patient, darlin’,” he drawled through the lacy fabric. “We’ve got all day.” But Kate was ready. It had been so long, so very long since she’d made love to a man, and now that she knew this was her one chance, her only chance to love Daegan, she couldn’t stop herself.
She shuddered as his fingers grazed her skin and delved. She cried out, feeling hot as warm honey where he touched her, and when he finally stripped her of that last flimsy barrier, she couldn’t wait. “That’s my girl,” he said, his breath whispering de ep inside her as he kissed her lovingly in her most intimate of places, his tongue playing with the bud of desire that welcomed him. He lifted her knees onto his broad shoulders, and slowly, drawing out her exquisite torture, he kissed and touched her. She was sw ept in a whirlpool of sensation, and her heart, drumming so loudly she thought it might burst, was a wild thing. “Let go,” he murmured and she did. The world tilted and stars flashed behind her eyes. She bucked and cried out and slowly he released her, stripping himself of shirt, jacket, and jeans, laying his long, sinewy body over hers, kissing her so hard she was sure she would die. Her fingers explored him, touched him where she never would have dared, thrilled by the textures of hair, bone, and muscle as he came to her, parting her legs, prodding her with his erection, delving de ep into her very soul with that first, mesmerizing thrust. “Love me, Kate,” he cried, thrusting hard enough to force her to catch her breath before withdrawing slowly. “Love me.” “I do,” she cried, tears falling from her eyes as he buried himself in her again. “Oh, Lord, Daegan, I do.” And his tempo increased, faster and faster, harder and harder, hotter and hotter, he moved, gritting his teeth, holding back, denying himself until finally she convulsed. And then with a cry as wild and raw as the storm surrounding them, he poured himself into her and collapsed, sweat sheening his corded muscles as he fell against her. Kate clung to him, her passion spent, her mind still dizzy with the colors of a kaleidoscope. Why was she fated to love this man who had come a stranger and in the course of a few short weeks become her lover? He kissed her and she blinked against the wash of tears and the snow still falling from a gunmetal sky. “Better?” he asked. “Mmm.” She stretched languidly and watched as his eyes, so recently glazed with passion, focused on her face. Silently he toyed with a strand of her hair. “This was probably a mistake.” “There’s no probably about it.” He glanced to the heavens, then closed his eyes and rolled off her. “I didn’t mean for things to go so far.” Already he regretted making love to her! Disappointment shot through her, and her pride, so battered earlier, came back full force. She didn’t lament a single kiss; if he was leaving, she wanted something to remember him by. “Neither did I.” “But I wouldn’t change anything.” Relief sw ept through her and he kissed her softly on the cheek. She shivered and he gathered her into his naked arms, kissing her crown as the breeze teased at her hair. His naked chest, all tough, rigid muscle, pressed hard against her. He held on tight, as if he was afraid of losing her, as if he, too, wanted to deny the horrid truth that he was leaving. “You’re one helluva woman, Kate Summers,” he whispered. “I never expected this. Never.” She nearly sobbed as she clung to him, and when his lips found hers once more, she was eager, hungry, anxious to join with him again, to prove de ep in her heart that their attraction was more than physical, that theirs was a spiritual and emotional melding as well.
She thrilled to his touch, and this time she touched him everywhere, her fingers brushing across the hard wall of muscles that was his chest, to tease his flat nipples. He groaned and kissed her so breathlessly she could hardly think, then she reached lower, feeling the curve of his spine, his buttocks, his legs...“Sweet Jesus,” he whispered, half in prayer, as she slid her fingers around his erection and soon he could stand the torturous pleasure no more. He pulled her on top of him and lifted his hips to pierce her. She folded over him and he cried out in ecstasy, then savagely thrust again, holding her close, his mouth and tongue finding her breasts, licking, kissing, teasing, suckling as he made love to her. With a cry she felt the earth tremble and she fell forward, feeling him shudder beneath her, his arms opening to catch her and wrap possessively over her, his breathing as torn and shallow as hers. “Daegan,” she whispered and he dragged her jacket over them, kissing her temple and eyes as her heartbeat finally slowed. “Oh, Daegan.” “I love you,” he murmured into her ear, and her tears began to flow as he stroked her hair. “No matter what else happens, believe that I love you as I’ve loved no other woman.” His words rang like the knell of doom. A de ep wracking sob tore from her throat and he sighed against her hair, then pushed her away from him so that he could stare into her eyes. She saw the shadows of sadness in his gaze, the quiet determination, and her heart shattered. “You’re going to leave me.” “I have to.” “But why?” she cried and he silently cursed himself. He couldn’t tell her that he was Jon’s father, that it was better for her and Jon if he disappeared from their lives and made sure that they were never bothered by the Sullivan family again. “I would stay if I could,” he swore, “but I can’t.” He stroked her cheek with a finger and felt the moistness of her tears. Damning himself silently, he kissed her again. “Come on, we can go back to the house and spend the rest of the day in bed.” She shook her head. “Not if you’re leaving.” He couldn’t help cocking an insolent eyebrow. “So now you want to barter?” “How can you joke about this?” she said, her eyes brimming. “I love you, Daegan O’Rourke. I don’t want to, in fact I curse myself every time I think about it, but I can’t help it. I love you.” The words seemed to crack in the cold autumn air. “Jon loves you, too.” His heart, already bruised, suffered another blow. “How can you disappoint him?” “I have to,” was all he said as he handed her her jeans. Sniffling loudly, she dressed, but she was obviously through begging and pleading and having her self-worth dragged through the mud. He watched as her shoulders stiffened and pride straightened her backbone. Good. She’d need all the strength she could round up. They dressed and rode back to the house in silence, leaving their hearts and vows of love on the ridge. Daegan mentally kicked himself over and over again for making love to her—not that he wouldn’t do it over again if he had the chance. God, she was beautiful and prideful and loving and more woman than he’d ever met before, but by
making love to her, he’d st epped across a line that was too dangerous to even contemplate—emotional commitment which he could never vow. After taking care of the horses and leaving them with fresh hay and water in the barn, he offered her more coffee, which she drank slowly in Eli Mc Intyre’s dilapidated little kitchen. Though sadness lingered in her eyes, she managed a half smile. “I can’t imagine anyone wanting to give up all this luxury,” she teased. “It’s hard.” “But Montana beckons?” “It was a mistake to think I needed to move away.” Her gaze held his. “There must be another reason.” Was it his imagination or did the cup in her fingers tremble slightly? Time to come up with a lie that will make her hate you so that she never comes looking. “There is.” He counted out the seconds in the pulse at her throat. She didn’t move, and quiet despair twisted her features. “Which is?” “I was running away.” “Do I want to know from what?” “Probably not.” “Oh, God, you have a wife.” He should have said “yes” and gotten it over with. Instead he said, “Ex- wife.” “And children?” she barely said. His throat closed in on itself. “A... a son. About Jon’s age. He, uh, lives with his mother and it’s probably better that way. I wasn’t much of a father.” Disbelief clouded her eyes. “But you’re so good with Jon.” Her voice failed her. “You lied to me.” “Yes.” Oh, lady, if you only knew. “But you lied, too. About Jon.” “You were going to leave and not let me know.” “No, I came by to say good-bye.” “Even though we made love.” He reached across the table and took her hand in his. “Believe me, I’ll never regret it.” Her life, already falling apart, seemed to unravel even further. He read the pain in her eyes. “That’s it? It’s over?” Disbelief warred with disappointment. It will never be over. Not with you and me. He felt it in his soul. “It has to be.” “You bastard! You lying, no-good...” Before her anger carried her away, she stopped and stared at him for a heart-splintering second. Standing abruptly, she let out a little sound of protest and dropped her cup, sloshing coffee. “Good-bye, Daegan,” she said, snagging her jacket from the arm of the couch and heading out the door. “Kate—” If only he could tell her the truth, let her know how he felt, who he really was... She was already outside, down the st eps, plowing through the snow, striding as if she couldn’t get away from him fast enough. Swearing
under his breath, he ran to the truck, fired the engine, and took off after her. He caught up with her before she’d reached the end of the lane. “Get in,” he commanded, rolling down the window. Her face was red, her jaw set, snow collecting in her hair. “Go to hell.” “Kate, please—” “Just leave, Daegan,” she said, reaching the county road and turning into her own lane. “That’s what you’re going to do anyway.” He couldn’t fault her logic. “Get into the truck.” She whirled on him then, fury masking her features. “And you get the hell off my land.” Again she strode away from him, her fists knotted in anger, her breath fogging furiously in the air. She turned again, walking briskly, but he followed her, and when she reached the house, he climbed out of the pickup and barged up the front st eps. She tried to bar the door, but he forced his way past her. Knowing he should let her hate him, he stood in the living room of her cozy little house. “What do you want?” she demanded. “Another romp in the snow?” The barb stung. “I just want you to know that I didn’t lie about anything I said or did up on the ridge.” She made a sound of d eprecation and walked into the kitchen. “I don’t know why you’re here.” “Neither do I.” She turned then and he held out his hands. “I should just let it go, Kate. The best thing for both of us is for me to walk out the door, but I don’t want to leave until you understand that, despite everything, I love you and I will always love you.” Closing her eyes as if to shield herself, she reached for the tel ephone answering machine and pushed the PLAY button. “Don’t do this, Daegan. Don’t tease. Just leave. Now.” “I will. But just know that I care, Kate. I care a helluva lot.” Tears ran down her cheeks and she brushed them quickly away. “Okay, you’ve made me cry. Is that what you want?” “No.” “Mrs. Summers,” a male voice said and her eyes flew open. “Don Mc Pherson at the school—” “Oh, no,” she whispered, shaking her head. “Not now, not again.” “We’re calling all our absentees who don’t have pre-arranged excuses or who haven’t called into the attendance secretary. We assume you’re aware that Jon is on the list.” Neils Van Horn had never sl ept with his silent partner, though he’d spent more than one night in bed with other women picturing the perfect, aquiline contours of her face. Fantasies of her long legs wrapped around his torso, her bloodred manicured nails digging into his back, were the one thing that k ept him on her payroll, despite the dangers of being caught. Now, as he pumped quarters into the pay phone at a truck stop on some godforsaken stretch of Idaho highway, he had to admit that she frightened him more than a little. Just like the kid locked in the van, working to slide the cuffs off when he thought Neils wasn’t looking. The kid had such a hollow look in his eyes, like a goddamned zombie. Neils must have scared the piss out of him when he pulled that gun. Grimacing, Neils shot a look at the van across the parking lot. He had played a part in some half-baked investigations before, but kidnapping was a first for him,
and it was all a worry. Maybe he should have insisted that Robert pay him more up front. Maybe he should forget about trying to get the woman into bed and just deliver the kid to the old man. But then her sultry voice came on the line and Neils’s manhood sprung to attention. Just at the sound of her voice. Damn, he had it bad. “You’ve got the boy,” she said, the excitement in her voice making him go harder. “That’s right.” “Where is he?” “Safe,” Neils r eplied, enjoying verbally sparring with her. “You know I can’t tell you where he is until we strike a deal. But I’m bringing him your way. Robert wants to see him.” “Bad idea. I don’t want him here. And I thought we agreed that I’d pay you twice what Robert offered.” “I know, I know,” Neils admitted, raking his hair back with one hand. Over the phone he could hear soft music—a symphony or something— playing behind her. Classy lady. “But it d epends on what you want me to do.” “A deal is a deal.” “Is it? I don’t think so. Otherwise I wouldn’t be double-crossing your uncle now.” Although she was thousands of miles away, he could feel her contempt over the phone line. How he’d love to play with her, whip her into an angry frenzy, then wrestle her to the floor, pinning her beneath him. “If you don’t go through with your end of the bargain,” she said in measured beats, “I’ll go to Robert and tell him you tried to up the ante by dealing with me.” He imagined her in schoolmarm glasses, threatening to whip him with a yard-long pointer. Yeah, baby. Whip me hard. “I don’t think so,” he said, enjoying the fantasies, loving the fact that he had the upper hand. “I told you I’d pay double for finding the boy,” she growled. “But I’ll add a bonus, Neils. I’ll pay you twice that if you get rid of him for me.” Neils froze. He didn’t like the turn in the conversation. Sure, the kid gave him the cre eps, but he didn’t want anything really bad to happen to the boy. Hell, that’d be murder. Not his thing. Christ, wasn’t kidnapping bad enough? She sighed. “Ah, Neils, so naive.” He couldn’t tell if she was amused or mocking him until she went on. “Don’t be an idiot. Do you really expect me to pay top dollar for you to let that bastard free? Just do yourself and me a favor and kill him.” Her voice oozed with impatience, malice, and blood lust. “Kill him now.”