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Dropping The Hammer
Joanna Wayne
Once a cowboy…always a heroRachel Maxwell is in recovery from a kidnapping ordeal – but soon she is targeted by an obsessed killer! Luke Dawkins comes to her rescue, but while their attraction sizzles, the danger grows…


Once a cowboy...
always a hero.
Recovering from a kidnapping ordeal at the Double K ranch, Rachel Maxwell reexamines her life. Is she still the brilliant defense attorney she was before the attack? Before she can decide, an obsessed killer targets her, drawing cowboy Luke Dawkins to her rescue. He, too, is trying to escape his troubled past. Protecting Rachel gives him new purpose—but while their attraction sizzles, the danger grows.
JOANNA WAYNE began her professional writing career in 1994. Now, more than fifty published books later, Joanna has gained a worldwide following with her cutting-edge romantic suspense and Texas family series, such as Sons of Troy Ledger and Big “D” Dads. Joanna currently resides in a small community north of Houston, Texas, with her husband. You may write Joanna at PO Box 852, Montgomery, TX 77356, USA or connect with her at www.joannawayne.com (http://www.joannawayne.com).
Also by Joanna Wayne (#u233b9fe2-90b4-590a-aef2-79feae13f7c7)
Riding Shotgun
Quick-Draw Cowboy
Fearless Gunfighter
Dropping the Hammer
Trumped Up Charges
Unrepentant Cowboy
Hard Ride to Dry Gulch
Midnight Rider
Showdown at Shadow Junction
Ambush at Dry Gulch
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Dropping the Hammer
Joanna Wayne


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-07878-8
DROPPING THE HAMMER
© 2018 Jo Ann Vest
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To the people in southeast Texas who not only survived Hurricane Harvey but showed amazing gusto in pitching in to help friends and absolute strangers who suffered devastating losses. And to the people around the state, country and the world who supported the relief efforts with their time, money and prayers. Your spirit of love and caring will never be forgotten.
Contents
Cover (#ud39d16ad-f69f-5e1c-ac7f-93f71f6172f2)
Back Cover Text (#u74fa8883-6d29-5da3-bbdf-1fbfc77c018a)
About the Author (#u28004c58-8480-557f-909d-111239452818)
Booklist (#u64cb4308-65d8-583c-a287-a70eb2eed669)
Title Page (#ud50a3d14-a0a8-5efe-a03a-00620c9672f5)
Copyright (#u45058c6b-3afe-59ad-b9ee-5c018035e8e6)
Dedication (#ua3705fa3-5d08-58a8-9ac7-90a0182eda3e)
Prologue (#u6b73f036-0193-5f86-a02c-cc805b83a685)
Chapter One (#ua6a5e41d-217c-5cbe-bcd1-207f7b46def4)
Chapter Two (#uf6224c2a-66c9-5ad3-8e60-ad85bc629477)
Chapter Three (#ub8a63e67-be95-5fd0-8979-8515e949bd73)
Chapter Four (#ucae4a885-1f5d-55b8-a907-27cc75c64abf)
Chapter Five (#ufd8a03c5-85c2-5c01-8fdb-62c22328472a)
Chapter Six (#u0b0ca350-3a8d-58d5-bafb-0af36674b392)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue (#u233b9fe2-90b4-590a-aef2-79feae13f7c7)
Death screamed, echoing shrilly through Rachel Maxwell’s brain as Roy Sales’s large, meaty hands tightened around her throat. His powerful body was stretched on top of hers, pinning her to her bed.
Her chest burned. She couldn’t breathe. She was losing consciousness as fear clawed at her insides, tearing her apart bit by bloody bit. Even as life slipped away, her heart persisted, throbbing erratically.
“Don’t worry, sweet Rachel. I won’t let you die if you do what I say.”
His maniacal laugh crawled inside her as his grip on her throat slowly eased. She coughed, choking as oxygen fought its way back into her lungs.
“Bucking against me is futile, sweetheart. I’ll never let you go. You belong to me. You always will. You know you want it that way.”
“Let me go,” she pleaded, her voice dry and scratchy, little more than a whisper. “Please, let me go.”
“That’s the way, baby. Keep begging.”
She closed her eyes tight so that she didn’t have to see the evil that darkened his eyes. Pleading wouldn’t help. He was heartless, devoid of compassion, his deranged soul as black as the depths of the deepest cave.
She writhed and twisted beneath him, finally getting her right arm free. She fisted her hand and swung wildly.
Blunt pain met her knuckles. There was a crash. She cried out in pain as blood splattered her face and dripped through her fingers.
She managed a scream. Loud. Shrill.
Her body stiffened and she kicked wildly, her feet tangling in the sheets as she escaped his grasping hands. Still screaming, she jerked into wakefulness—not to the sound of her cries, but to her cell phone’s alarm.
Rachel gulped scratchy clumps of air. It was only a nightmare. She was in her own apartment. Alone. Safe.
She fumbled to turn off the alarm. Her phone was wet. Her hands were damp and clammy, but with water, not the blood she’d imagined in the clutches of the terrifying nightmare.
She’d evidently knocked over the glass of water she’d left on the bedside table. The dizziness and cold, hard terror began to subside as she dried her phone on the corner of the sheet.
She stretched her feet out in front of her, staring at the shadows that crawled across the wall in the faint glow of sunrise. She was safe and yet the horror of being kidnapped and held in captivity by the psychopath persisted along with anxiety attacks and sudden bouts of panic.
Something as routine as a strange man walking too close behind her in downtown Houston in broad daylight could set her off. Or a man approaching in the office parking lot. Or even the creepy feeling that someone was watching her when she got out of her car at night.
She had to get her act together and move past her own trauma. But even fully awake and in the safety of her own bedroom, she could feel killing fingers at her throat, choking the life from her.
She could sense danger deep in her soul.
Chapter One (#u233b9fe2-90b4-590a-aef2-79feae13f7c7)
Three months later
“Good morning, Miss Maxwell.”
The firm’s receptionist smiled as Rachel walked through the double glass doors of their fifteenth-floor office.
“You’re here early this morning, Carrie,” Rachel said.
“Yes, but it may be the first time I’ve ever arrived before you. Sometimes I think you sleep here.”
“I’ve been tempted.”
“Mr. Fitch Sr. beat you in this morning, too. He said to have you stop by his office when you arrived.”
“Did he say why?”
“No, but I got the idea it’s important.”
Everything was important to Eric Fitch Sr. He had a controlling hand over everything that went on in this firm.
Rachel stopped by her office, shrugged out of her light gray overcoat and put it and her handbag away before heading to Eric’s office.
His door was ajar. She tapped on it and he stood and motioned her inside.
“Carrie said you needed to see me?”
“Yes. It’s going to be a very busy and hopefully productive day. If you have any appointments that aren’t urgent, you’ll need to cancel them.”
“Sounds serious. What’s up?”
“We have a potential very high-profile case I’d like to discuss with you.”
Rachel couldn’t imagine why he wanted to discuss that with her. She took the chair that faced his desk. He sat down again and leaned back in his oversize leather chair.
“Who’s the defendant?” she asked.
“Hayden Covey. I suppose you’ve heard that he was arrested last night.”
“It was breaking news on my phone alerts this morning.” She was certain almost everyone in the state had heard by now.
Hayden was a student at University of Texas who’d allegedly brutally murdered his girlfriend days after she’d broken up with him.
He was also the only son of a popular and very influential state senator married to an extremely rich heiress.
The victim was Louann Black, nineteen years old, also a student at the university. Though not as wealthy and influential as the Coveys, her family was well-known in the Austin music circuit.
Hayden had written several songs for big-name performers and frequently performed around town himself in popular music venues.
This would likely be the trial of the decade in Texas.
“Do you think Hayden is innocent?” Rachel asked.
“He claims to be and I know his parents believe him.”
“Most parents do, though the evidence against him looks extremely damaging.”
“But not ironclad,” Eric said. “A top-notch defense attorney could win the case.”
“Then coming to you was a good decision,” Rachel said. “Few would argue that you’re not the top defense attorney in the South.”
“But maybe not the best man to defend Hayden. I’ll be honest with you, Rachel. Senator Covey and I have been close friends since our law school days at UT. I’ve known Hayden since he was born. He’s a great kid.”
“He’s twenty,” Rachel reminded him. “Not exactly a kid.”
“That’s true. He’s turned into a fine young man with a great life and a pro football career in front of him. He’s one of the top college running backs in the country and he’s only a junior.”
“Even great athletes commit crimes.”
“Yes, but he’s never been in trouble except for one unfortunate arrest last year for roughing up another student after an altercation at a bar near the university. Several witnesses said the victim was at fault.”
According to the media over the last few days, those witnesses were Hayden’s friends and the roughing up was a vicious attack that sent an unsuspecting underclassman to the hospital with a broken jaw and a serious concussion from repeated kicks to the head.
That was nothing compared to the brutality of the attack that killed his former girlfriend.
“Considering how my friendship with the senator might negatively influence the jury, I’m not sure I’m the best one to officially lead Hayden’s defense.”
“Good point,” she agreed, though she was certain he’d be a strong behind-the-scenes force in the case no matter who was the lead attorney of record.
“Luckily, the firm has several top-notch criminal defense attorneys,” she noted.
“Yes, which makes this a tough decision. But I talked with my son and Edward last evening. We all three believe that you’re the best choice for the job.”
She stared at him, stunned by his words. “You mean as lead attorney?”
“Yes, though you’ll have full backing from the firm and all the assistance you require. But you’ll deliver the opening and closing statements and handle the press.”
She’d worked her butt off for an opportunity like this ever since she started with the firm right after law school. But she was certain her performance had fallen off over the last few months. She tried harder than ever, but she had trouble concentrating and dealing with the never-ending panic attacks.
“Why me?” she asked.
“I’ve discussed it with my partners. We all agree that you have exactly the qualities needed for this trial. You’re not only capable and thorough, you read the jury as well as or better than any attorney with the firm. You proved that time and time again.”
“I’ve never headed up a high-profile like this.”
“No, but you’ve demonstrated that you know your way around a courtroom. You won’t be intimidated by a judge or daunted by the best the district attorney can hurl at you.”
A year ago that might have been the case. Now she wasn’t convinced she could navigate through all the brutal murder evidence and still stay on her game.
She’d only been a team member on the case they’d just tried and won, but even looking at the photos of a young female victim attacked in an elevator at her workplace had brought on an increase in Rachel’s nightmares and a heightened anxiety level.
Her career had been her life, but it seemed to be turning on her. She definitely couldn’t handle a murder case unless she was totally convinced of the defendant’s innocence. “I appreciate the confidence, but—”
“I know it will be your biggest challenge to date,” Fitch interrupted. “We think you’re ready for it.”
She stared into space as she let his statement sink in. What-ifs stormed her mind. What if she wasn’t up to it? What if she wasn’t convinced of Hayden Covey’s innocence? What if she had a meltdown in front of the jury? If that happened in a case this high profile, it would be the end of her career.
Eric stood, walked to the front of his desk and stared down at her, his gaze intent, intimidating. “This case is very important to me and to the firm, Rachel. We’ve stood beside you and supported you in every way we could since your unfortunate incident. Now I’m asking for you to deliver. Don’t let me down.”
Don’t let him down.
The tone and stance made it clear his words were a warning. This was more than an offer. It was a demand.
“I understand,” she said.
“Good. Then I’ve made myself clear.”
“Perfectly clear. When do I meet the defendant?” she asked, though she hadn’t officially agreed to take the assignment. Ordinarily, the firm granted attorneys that privilege. This time that didn’t appear to be the case.
“Hayden and his parents will be here this morning at ten,” Fitch said. “I’ll also sit in on that first meeting.”
“I expected that you would. Is that all for now?”
“Yes, except that I should warn you that Hayden’s mother, Claire, is in a distraught state. I hope you can give her full confidence in the defense we’ll provide for her son.”
“I’ll do as much as I honestly can.” Honestly was the key word in Rachel’s mind.
Eric Fitch Sr. had gotten what he wanted. He stood, then smiled and nodded, acknowledging his win.
Rachel was getting the career boost she’d worked so hard for, the opportunity to make a name for herself and vastly improve her chance of being named at least a junior partner one day soon.
So why did she feel the almost overwhelming desire to tell Eric Fitch he could take this job and shove it?
Chapter Two (#u233b9fe2-90b4-590a-aef2-79feae13f7c7)
Luke Dawkins nudged his worn Stetson back on his head and took a long, hard look at the rusting metal gate. Arrowhead Hills Ranch was carved into the weathered wooden sign along with two imprints of arrowheads.
The last time he’d laid eyes on that gate, he’d seen it through the rearview mirror of the beat-up red pickup truck that he’d bought with money he’d earned working at the local feed and tack shop. That had been eleven years ago, when he was eighteen.
The rickety ranch gate seemed the same. Luke wasn’t.
You Can’t Go Home Again. Thomas Wolfe had known his stuff. The home might not change. The person who’d left would.
A few years of bouncing from job to job followed by eight years in the military had turned Luke into a man, yet he still dreaded returning to the place he’d once called home.
A small Texas Hill Country town with a lot more cows than people, more barbwire than roads and some of the best ranch land in the state.
All Luke had against the town or the ranch could be summed up in two words. Alfred Dawkins. Stubborn. Controlling. Bitter. Downright ornery.
The poor excuse for a father wouldn’t like having Luke home again any more than Luke wanted to be here.
Neither of them had a lot of choice in the matter.
The old defiant angers festered in Luke’s gut as he climbed out of his new double-cab pickup truck and stepped around a mud hole.
His boots scooted across the cattle gap as he unlatched and opened the gate before getting back into his truck and driving through it the way he’d done hundreds of times as a rebellious teenager.
He paused and took in the sights and sounds before he closed the gate behind him. A barking dog, though it wouldn’t be Ace, the golden retriever he’d raised from a pup. Ace had died from a rattlesnake bite when he jumped between Luke and the striking snake.
Luke had been fourteen then. His dad had scorned him for shedding a few tears. Nothing new. Luke had never measured up in his dad’s mind. Just one of the many reasons Luke had never looked back once he left Arrowhead Hills Ranch.
A crow scolded Luke from high in the branches of a nearby live oak. A horse neighed.
Luke looked to the left and spotted a couple of chestnut mares giving him the once-over. So his dad still kept horses. Good to know.
It had been years since Luke was in the saddle. His consecutive tours in the Middle East hadn’t allowed much time for revisiting the cowboy lifestyle.
It was shirtsleeve weather, warm for late January, but a bracing breeze rustled the tall yellow strands of grass and the leaves in a persimmon tree that hugged the fence.
Luke closed the gate, climbed back into his truck and drove toward the old house. He had no idea what to expect or what kind of health his father had been in before he suffered the stroke that had led to his being placed in a rehab facility.
Significantly weakened on the left side of his body now and with difficulty putting his thoughts into coherent sentences, he was unable to take care of himself, much less the ranch.
Not that Luke had originally gotten that information firsthand. It was Esther Kavanaugh, a longtime neighbor who’d been his mother’s best friend before her death, who’d called with the SOS. Luke had followed up with Alfred’s doctor and the rehab center.
So here he was, back in Winding Creek.
The brown roof appeared as he rounded a curve in the dirt ranch road. Trees hid the rest of the clapboard house until he was closer.
It looked smaller than he remembered it. A bungalow with two bedrooms, two baths, a family den, a large kitchen downstairs and an upstairs dormer with another bedroom and bath that had been his hideaway.
Luke parked in a gravel drive in front of the carport that covered what he assumed was his dad’s scratched and dented Chevy pickup truck. Alfred had always been a Chevy man and always hard on the finish of the vehicle. He’d never let bushes or shrubs get in the way of his getting where he wanted to go on the ranch.
The wide, covered porch that his mother had always filled with huge clay pots of colorful blooms was bare except for one old pottery planter full of dirt and dead flowers, a weathered wooden rocker and what looked to be a fairly new porch swing that dangled from the ceiling by only one chain.
Luke’s mother’s once prized flower beds that had bordered the porch were choked with weeds. The paint on the house was faded and peeling. A dark brown shutter on one of the windows hung askew.
Luke climbed out of the truck and took the cracked concrete walk from the driveway to the porch steps. A sense of foreboding rattled his mood. Stepping back into the house with its bittersweet memories of his mother would have been depressing in an ideal situation. This was far from ideal.
He had no idea what Alfred or the neighbors expected of him. He didn’t mind the work, but it wasn’t as if he had any authority to make decisions about the ranch. More than likely his father hadn’t even named him in the will even though Luke had no siblings.
The door was unlocked. Luke swung it open, but before he could step inside, he heard approaching hoofbeats. He turned as the horseman rode into view, pulled on the reins and stopped in the shade a few yards from the porch.
The black mare snorted and tossed her head as the rider climbed from the saddle and looped the reins around a low-lying branch of a scraggly ash tree.
The rider acknowledged Luke with a smile and a nod.
Luke tipped his Stetson.
“You must be Luke,” the cowboy said as he approached the porch steps. “Esther Kavanaugh said you’d be here sometime this weekend. She wasn’t sure when, so I was just coming by to see if you made it yet.”
“Yep. Luke Dawkins. Just drove up. Haven’t even made it inside.” He met the guy on the edge of the porch and offered his hand.
“Buck Stalling,” the guy said. “I’m a wrangler for Pierce Lawrence over at the Double K Ranch. He sends me over here twice a day to take care of the horses.”
“Is Pierce running the ranch for Esther Kavanaugh now?” Luke asked.
“He owns it. Mrs. Kavanaugh sold it to him a few months back.”
“Interesting. She didn’t mention that she’d moved when I talked to her.”
“She didn’t move. She lives right there in the big house like she always has, close to her beloved chickens and garden.”
“Does Pierce live there, too?”
“He did before he built himself, his pregnant wife, Grace, and his young daughter a house of their own no more than a good stone’s throw away from Esther. Right nice setup.”
“Sounds like a good deal for all of them. I just didn’t realize Pierce was back in Winding Creek.”
“Then you know Pierce,” Buck said. “I’m surprised he never mentioned knowing you.”
“No reason he should. Last time I saw him we were in high school, and he moved away before we graduated.”
“Yeah. Tough on him and his brothers losing their parents so early. Lucky for them that the Kavanaughs took them in until their uncle moved them to Kansas.”
Tough on anyone that young to lose a parent. No one knew that any better than Luke.
“If you’re taking care of the horses, who’s looking after the critters?” Luke asked.
“Dudley Miles assigned a couple of his cowboys to help out with the herd until Alfred is functioning enough to hire on some new hands. That’s how it is in Winding Creek. Neighbors take care of neighbors.”
“Certainly seems that way,” Luke agreed.
“I’m real sorry about your father’s stroke,” Buck said. “I didn’t really know him very well, but all the same I sure feel bad for him and you.”
“I appreciate that.”
“I heard a dog barking when I came up. Is that Alfred’s dog?”
“Nope. You probably heard Marley. He belongs to one of the cowboys who’s working the critters. He brings him with him some days.”
“That’s a nice-looking horse you’re riding,” Luke said.
“Yep. Wish Lucky was mine. She’s one hell of a cow pony.”
“How many horses does Albert have?”
“Eight quarter horses that he keeps in his new fancy horse barn. Those are his pride and joy. Gonna be tough on your dad if he can’t ride anymore.”
“Hopefully that won’t be the case.”
“He also has three other cow ponies and one good cutter. They have stalls at the back of the old barn when they’re not loose in the pasture.”
“What’s the size of the cattle herd?”
“I don’t have the exact numbers, but I s’pect your dad has a hundred or so Black Angus and damn near that many Santa Gertrudis. That’s just an estimate. Numbers change, of course, depending on when he takes the beef to market and how many calves are born in the spring.”
“That sounds like a lot of work for a man who’s almost seventy to manage,” Luke said.
“He always kept a few hired hands around until he got mad about something and ran them off. He had two hired hands when he had the stroke. They weren’t from around here. Just showed up from somewhere in Oklahoma around Thanksgiving looking for work. They disappeared when Albert had his stroke and wasn’t around to pay them.”
Luke couldn’t really blame them for that. He couldn’t imagine Albert had done anything to deserve a lot of loyalty from them.
He and Buck talked for a few minutes more, long enough to convince Luke that the ranch was not as neglected as the house.
He waited until Buck rode away before stepping inside. Déjà vu hit with a wallop. Memories, both bad and good, came crashing down on him.
It got worse when he reached the kitchen. He leaned against the counter and would have sworn he could smell frying chicken. His mother’s shiny black hair would dance about her shoulders as she cooked and she’d be humming the latest hit from the pop chart. Her lips would shimmer with a bright shade of lipstick.
Before everything had gone bad. So many, many years ago.
Luke shut down the recollections before the bittersweet turned to just plain bitter. It was after three in the afternoon, and darkness set in early in January.
From all accounts, his father was being well cared for and might even be asleep for the night before Luke could make the drive to San Antonio, where he was recovering. A visit with him could wait until tomorrow.
Luke would spend the last of the daylight hours checking out the ranch by horseback.
Suddenly he found himself downright eager to get back in the saddle again. Or maybe he was just glad of an excuse to avoid seeing Alfred for one more day.
Chapter Three (#u233b9fe2-90b4-590a-aef2-79feae13f7c7)
Rachel shrugged out of her navy blue blazer and draped it over the arm of the comfortable wing chair before taking a seat in her psychologist’s office. Her first visits to Dr. Stephen Lindquist’s had been awkward and strained and had always ended with her in tears.
That had been in late September, during the first weeks after she’d been rescued by her sister, Sydney, and Sydney’s now husband, Tucker Lawrence. Rachel had been a total wreck then, the panic attacks hitting with excessive regularity and crippling ferocity.
Work was impossible. Sleep deprivation was taking its toll.
Not atypical with her degree of post-traumatic stress, Dr. Lindquist had assured her. His skill and easy manner had quickly won her over, yet she wasn’t making the kind of progress she’d hoped for.
She couldn’t bring herself to talk about her experience in captivity. Couldn’t deal with the fact that if her sister and Tucker had come moments later she would have been burned alive.
Talking or thinking about it brought it all back to life.
Dr. Lindquist settled in his rustic-brown leather chair. “Good to see you, Rachel.”
“Thanks for fitting me in on a Friday afternoon with such short notice,” she said.
“You sounded a bit panicky on the phone.”
“I was. I am.” She clasped her hands in her lap. “I had a major meltdown at work this morning.” Her voice cracked. She wrapped her arms around her chest as if that could calm her shattered nerves.
“Take a few deep breaths,” Dr. Lindquist suggested. “There’s no rush. You’re my last appointment for the day. You have me as long as you need me.”
“Thanks, but you may be sorry you offered that.”
“I won’t be. Is it the nightmares again?”
“No, though I still have them from time to time. It’s just that every time I seem to be getting in control of my fears, something happens to send me back into the self-destruction spiral.”
“You’re dealing with a lot. A little backsliding is to be expected. We’ve talked about that.”
“I know. But this is more than a little backsliding. I may have blown my career.”
The doctor crossed an ankle over his knee. “Why don’t you tell me what happened from the beginning?”
“I suppose you’ve heard that Senator Covey’s son, Hayden, has been arrested.”
“No way to miss it. The murder of his ex-girlfriend is dominating the news. I’m sure the senator and his wife are devastated.”
“And desperate. I didn’t know it until this morning, but the senator is a good friend of my boss, Eric Fitch Sr.”
“Guess that means your firm will be defending Hayden.”
“It looks that way. I was offered the chance to be the lead attorney in charge of his defense.”
“How do you feel about that?”
“Troubled. Confused. Anxious.” Her muscles tightened and she felt a nagging ache at her right temple.
“It’s the kind of high-profile case that can make or break a defense attorney,” she continued, “the kind of opportunity I’ve been waiting for. The kind I thought I was ready for.”
“And now you’re not sure. What changed your mind?”
“Doubts that I can handle the job. Thoughts that I don’t want to handle the job.”
He leaned in closer. “Go on.”
“Senator and Mrs. Covey brought their son into the office this morning for a preliminary interview. As I shook hands with Hayden, I stared into the cold, barren intensity of his predatory eyes and an icy shiver ran though me. In that second, it was as if I knew that he was capable of murder.
“No evidence had been presented. It was nothing Hayden had said or done. I just looked into his eyes and saw Roy Sales.”
“What did you do?”
“I mumbled something about feeling ill, which I was, and then stood and staggered out of the meeting.”
Rachel covered her eyes with her hands, fighting back salty tears of frustration. Her life had changed forever. Now the past was destroying her career with no relief in sight.
“If it turns out Hayden Covey is guilty of the brutal murder of his former girlfriend, I’d say your assessment of him is right on target,” the doctor said.
“Which doesn’t excuse my unprofessional behavior.”
“Have you talked to your boss about the incident?”
“Not yet. I think he was with the Coveys the rest of the morning, but I’m sure it’s just a matter of time until he confronts me about my reaction. I’ll be lucky if I’m not fired. My boss put me to the test and I failed miserably.”
“Failure is a strong word.”
“And not one I’m used to,” she admitted. “But nothing is what I’m used to anymore and I’m tired of having my friends and coworkers feel sorry for me instead of seeing me as an equal.”
“I’m sure most of them mean well,” Dr. Lindquist said.
“I know, but it’s not the way I want to live.”
“Maybe it’s time you changed your life. Go somewhere where everyone doesn’t know about your past.”
“You’re starting to sound like my sister, Dr. Lindquist, and I get her advice for free.”
“What kind of advice does she give you?”
“Stop putting so much pressure on myself. She thinks I should quit the firm and spend some time finding myself again—away from the world of defending people accused of violent crimes.”
“How do you feel about that?”
“You know, Doctor, sometimes I wish you’d just give me answers instead of trying to lead me to work my way through the impossible maze.”
An unexpected smile touched the doctor’s lips. “Sometimes I wish I could, too. Unfortunately, that’s not the way this works. The real answers must come from you.
“So, back to the question. How do you feel about Sydney’s suggestion that you take a less stressful job for a while, maybe a change of scenery, as well?”
“It feels like I’d be giving up. It feels like I would have lost and Roy Sales has won.”
“Any other considerations?”
As usual, she had the feeling Dr. Lindquist was seeing right through her. “There are times I long to walk away from it all,” she admitted reluctantly. “But working for a prominent law firm was the dream that got me through law school. So much time and work have been invested into that dream. I can’t just throw that away.”
“Sometimes dreams change.”
“Or they can be changed for you.”
“Have you considered other career options?”
“Not exactly, but I have a friend who specializes in working with charitable organizations—handles lawsuits and tax issues for them and works with people who wish to set up foundations or donate money in their wills. She loves it. Says she always feels like she’s on the right side.”
“That has a lot of plusses?” the doctor said.
“Then is just walking away from my job what you think I should do?”
“It’s what you think you should do that matters, Rachel. I don’t see that as giving up. Sometimes changing life paths is the most difficult decision of all.”
“I never looked at it that way.”
“You’re a tough, smart woman with good instincts. You’ll make the right decision for you. It just takes time.”
“You have more confidence in me than I do in myself.”
“You’ll get there. I am puzzled, though, why Eric Sr. didn’t just take the lead on this case himself.”
“He’s concerned his friendship with the senator might bias the jury against him. And he claims that I’d be more effective at convincing the jury of Hayden’s innocence.”
“Because of your own past? Your opinion of Hayden Covey would likely count for a lot, considering what you’ve been through.”
She thought painstakingly about Dr. Lindquist’s comment and then cringed as the truth about Eric’s more likely motives took root. He didn’t think she was the most capable defense attorney at the firm.
He was using her, putting his faith in the jurors pitying her and believing she’d never defend Hayden unless she fully believed in his innocence.
Her insides twisted. She had no proof of the theory, but it made sense. How had she not seen that before?
By the time the session with Dr. Lindquist was finished and she reached her car, her decision had been made.
If she hurried, she could catch the most senior partner before he left the office.
She couldn’t go on being a victim forever. She had to fight back.
Chapter Four (#u233b9fe2-90b4-590a-aef2-79feae13f7c7)
A light rain dotted her windshield as Rachel exited the multilevel parking garage at her firm and started toward home. Her emotions still on a roller coaster, the ringing of her phone startled her.
She checked the caller ID on the hands-free display. Her sister, Sydney. She took the call, though she’d hoped not to share her big announcement with her sister until she’d gotten used to it herself.
“Good evening, Sydney. How’s the world inside the FBI this Friday night?”
“Urgent and crisis-filled, as usual, though I plan not to think about that his weekend. I’m only a few miles from Winding Creek now. I’ll be there for dinner with Esther and the rest of the family. When are you arriving?”
When was she arriving? Oh, God. “This is the weekend of Grace’s baby shower, isn’t it?”
“Don’t tell me you forgot, Rachel.”
“Okay. I won’t tell you. When is the shower?”
“Tomorrow afternoon at three. It’s at Dani’s Delights. Dani is closing the bakery early for the party. It’s a really big deal. Half the women in town are coming. Everybody loves Grace.”
“Me included,” Rachel said, “but...”
“She’ll be very disappointed if you’re not here. Besides, you and I haven’t gotten together since Christmas. I’m really looking forward to seeing you.”
“Yeah. I’d like to see you, too,” she admitted, suddenly realizing just how much. “I’ll start out early in the morning. I’m far too tired to make that drive tonight.”
“Super, though I was hoping you’d taken the afternoon off and were coming in tonight so we could have one of our all-talk and no-sleep slumber parties the way we used to.”
“You mean back before you had a gorgeous husband to keep you entertained at night?”
“Right. But he’s competing in a rodeo in Longview tonight and tomorrow morning, so he won’t make it here until late tomorrow afternoon. The good news is we’re both taking Monday and Tuesday off.”
“So I’m second choice?”
“Yep. But I just checked the radar and it shows a line of thundershowers moving into the area over the next few hours, so it’s just as well you’re not driving this way now.”
“I do hate driving in the rain.”
“You did forget, though. I mean, there’s nothing going on there that made you have second thoughts about coming?”
Sydney never took things at face value. It was all that FBI training, Rachel expected. But her insight hit too close to home far too often.
“What are you intimating, my crime-fighting sister?”
“Just wondering if it’s the thought of returning to Winding Creek that’s really bothering you.”
“No,” she lied. “I’m fine with Winding Creek.”
“Then promise you’re not going to make some new excuse to get out of coming tomorrow so you can stay home and work. You need a break.”
Yes, she did. She hadn’t intended to just blurt out her news, but there was no real reason to keep it a secret.
“I know you’re sitting down, since you’re driving,” Rachel said, “but prepare yourself for a shock.”
“You’ve met a man?”
“Gads. That’s the last thing I need.”
“A matter of opinion. Then what is it?”
“I will no longer be overworking. As of about thirty minutes ago, I don’t have a job or a career. I did make off with a few company pens, though, as I stormed out of the building.”
“You got fired?”
“No. I beat old Fitch to it. I quit.”
“You’re joking.”
“Nope. In fact, I may be as shocked as you that I quit, but it felt right. Still does. But also a bit scary.”
“I can’t wait to hear all the details. But let me just say, I’m in favor of the decision. And you haven’t lost a career permanently. You’re still a dynamite attorney. You’ll land on your feet somewhere where they don’t expect you to give up sleep permanently in exchange for billable hours.”
“I hope you’re right. We’ll talk more when I get there.”
“Now I really can’t wait to see you. Actually, the whole family will be thrilled to see you again. Esther asks about you every time we talk.”
Esther was a jewel. So were all three of the Lawrence brothers and their families who had come home to Winding Creek and to Esther Kavanaugh.
The only problem was that the warm and loving family members were Sydney’s in-laws—not Rachel’s.
“Don’t mention my quitting my job to anyone else just yet.”
“I’ll have to tell Tucker. We talk about everything, but I’ll tell him to keep it under his hat.”
Rachel’s new life was off and running—ready or not.
* * *
RACHEL KEPT HER eyes on the passing scenery, watching for the gate to the Double K Ranch. All things considered, she was feeling surprisingly upbeat, or at least several notches above gloom.
Perhaps the reality that she was unemployed for the first time since she’d graduated from law school hadn’t fully sunk in. Or maybe Sydney was right about her needing a mental, emotional and physical break from the stress that Fitch, Fitch and Baumer provided.
The sun claimed dominance over a few cumulus clouds. Michael Bublé was crooning on her car’s radio. And she was actually going to spend two full days with her sister instead of driving back home on Sunday morning to a crush of paperwork.
She basically had nothing on her plate in the foreseeable future except freedom and possibly a few hours doing wrap-up at the office. She’d offered two weeks’ notice. A shocked and irritated Eric Fitch Sr. had said that wasn’t necessary.
All he needed was a verbal agreement that she would answer any questions that might arise concerning cases she’d been involved with. Eric Fitch Jr. had come by while she was collecting her personal belongings and tried to talk her into staying, assuring her he’d cleared the offer with his dad.
He’d offered a raise. She’d been tempted, but not enough to stay.
Lost in her thoughts again, she almost missed the Double K’s metal gate and had to throw on her brakes to keep from passing it by. She made the turn too fast, skidding across a wet patch of grass that bordered the ranch road.
She slowed and stopped at the closed and latched gate. Esther had talked about putting in an automatic gate opener to save herself having to get out in the weather. Obviously that was still on her to-do list. Neither weather nor much else slowed down Esther Kavanaugh.
Rachel switched the gear to Park but kept the motor running. She’d opened the door and was about to climb from behind the wheel when she was startled by the clattering engine noise of another vehicle.
She checked the rearview mirror. An old, mud-encrusted pickup truck had made the turn and had followed her to the gate. The male driver stopped mere inches behind her, blocking her between his front bumper and the closed gate.
She jerked her door closed and pushed the lock button. Her heart pounded against the walls of her chest. Her lungs burned. Her stomach churned sickeningly.
The driver got out of his truck and started toward her. She switched the gear to Drive and poised her foot on the accelerator. If he so much as touched her car, she would ram through the gate, knocking it from its hinges. She wouldn’t stop until she reached Esther’s house.
As the man neared, he smiled and tipped his gray Stetson. Nothing about him looked dangerous. His smile was anything but threatening. Telling herself that only barely eased her surge of apprehension.
She clutched the steering wheel so tight her knuckles turned white.
The cowboy sauntered past her locked door, walked to the front of her car and unlatched the gate. He was opening the door for her. She took a deep breath and let her fingers relax their hold on the steering wheel.
The gate swung open and the cowboy motioned her through—an extremely good-looking cowboy, though she hadn’t noticed that before. She lowered her window and waved as she drove past him.
Her pulse was back to near normal by the time she reached the rambling ranch house. The sight of Esther’s house had a further calming effect on her.
Colorful pillows adorned the wide porch swing. Painted rocking chairs were pulled up to a round table topped with a pot of colorful pansies. A clump of sweet alyssum huddled next to the steps. Winter jasmine climbed the railings on the north end of the porch.
Rachel parked in the gravel drive on the far side of the house, a recent addition that kept visitors from dodging mud holes on mornings such as this.
Once more, the cowboy parked behind her. This time she waited for him to get out of the truck. The unwarranted panic attack had passed.
“Thanks for handling the gate chores,” she said.
“My pleasure.” He pointed to his worn Western boots. “Those high-heeled fancy boots you’re wearing don’t look like they’d take too well to mud. These goat-ropers are made for chunking through whatever they face.”
“Goat-roper?”
“Just a term. I don’t really rope goats in them—not that I couldn’t.”
“I’ll bet.”
He extended his hand. “Luke Dawkins. The prodigal son of Alfred Dawkins, returning to Winding Creek for duty.”
She slid her hand into his much larger one. An unexpected wave of awareness zinged through her. That frightened her almost as much as her initial reaction to him had. “Rachel Maxwell. I’m Sydney Lawrence’s sister, just visiting—no duty.”
She waited for the look of pity that frequently followed the act of telling anyone her name. There was none. Evidently he didn’t know of her past. The chances were slim to none she could keep it that way.
They started up the wide wooden steps to the porch together. Their arms brushed. Her first impulse was to pull away from him. She didn’t.
Before she had time to ring the bell, the door opened and Sydney appeared, with Esther a step behind. “You made it,” Esther said.
Sidney spotted Luke and looked shocked. “And you bought a guest.”
“Not intentionally,” Luke said. “I’m just a stray who followed her home. Luke Dawkins.”
“A prodigal son,” Rachel offered to fill a sudden, awkward silence on Sydney’s part.
“Well, of course you are,” Esther said, pushing to the front. “You haven’t changed a bit, Luke, except for that facial hair. Just threw me off that you arrived with our Rachel.”
“What can I say? When a beautiful woman shows up, I don’t argue with fate.”
“You’re in your dad’s truck,” Esther said, leaning over to look past them. “Hope that’s not all you have to get around in. To hear Alfred tell it, it only runs half the time.”
“I was afraid it wouldn’t make it here,” Luke admitted. “But I have my own truck back at the ranch, so if this one makes it back home, I’ll park it and leave it until I can get it tuned up.”
Luke touched a hand to the small of Rachel’s back as they stepped inside.
Once again, her nerves zinged.
It couldn’t get any crazier than this.
Chapter Five (#u233b9fe2-90b4-590a-aef2-79feae13f7c7)
Luke’s ego took a blow. He was definitely the odd man out where the two sisters were concerned. They were both talking at once, the topics changing as fast as if this were a game-show lightning round. He didn’t even try to keep up.
Within ten minutes Sydney and Rachel excused themselves to go wrap gifts for an afternoon baby shower. Luke watched Rachel walk away. She was hot as a bonfire and there was no gold band on her ring finger.
If he were planning to stick around awhile, he’d hit on her big-time, though she was probably miles out of his league. But as soon as he figured out what to do about his father and the Arrowhead Hills Ranch, he was out of here.
Unless Alfred kicked him out sooner.
“It’s good to have you here in my house again after so many years,” Esther said once they were alone. “You’ve grown into a fine-looking young man. Your mother would have been mighty proud of you.”
“Thanks. Being here reminds me of her.”
“She was a very special woman, one of the best friends I’ve had in my life, even though she was a couple of decades younger and had four times the energy I did. I miss her to this day, but it’s probably not the best time for going all syrupy. I know you’re here to talk about Alfred’s problems.”
“I am,” he agreed. “I still don’t know much more than what you told me on the phone. The rehab center is not big on giving out information other than what’s on his chart. Assisted shower at eight. Occupational therapy scheduled for one. That and other equally unhelpful info.”
“Did you talk to the medical supervisor where he’s staying or the doctor who cared for him in the hospital?”
“I’ve talked to both with equally worthless results. The doctor quoted some medical jargon to describe the stroke and possible causes but didn’t give me anything definite on the prognosis. He insisted there was no way to be certain at this point if or how long Alfred would need permanent care. I’m supposed to meet with the medical supervisor this afternoon.”
“You’re driving to San Antonio today?”
“Yep. I need to see his condition for myself and at least let him know I’m here for him—if he cares.”
“I visited him again Wednesday,” Esther said. “He’s throwing a fit to go home, but he can’t get around well enough to take care of himself. He definitely can’t handle cooking chores or bathing and shaving.”
“Then you think he’ll need someone with him twenty-four hours a day?”
“At least at first, and I predict he’ll go through the ceiling if you suggest he go anywhere when he leaves the rehab facility except back to the ranch.”
“A ranch he can’t take care of on his own. He’ll have to hire someone to manage everything, and unless he’s changed a lot in eleven years, he’s not good at delegating authority.” Luke couldn’t see any way this was going to turn out well.
“I have a fresh pot of coffee in the kitchen,” Esther said. “Will you have a cup with me?”
“Sure.” He needed a beer more, but it was still morning and he had a visit with Alfred staring him in the face, so he’d stick with the caffeine.
He followed her to the kitchen.
“Cream or sugar?”
“Just black, thanks.”
She filled two mugs and set them on the small table in the kitchen breakfast nook. He held her chair and then took a seat across from her.
Esther sipped her brew. “I’ve probably depressed you enough, but do you have any other questions that I might be able to answer?”
“How was Alfred’s health before the stroke?”
“He was slowing down a bit, only sixty-nine, but looked older than he was. Not much meat on his bones. Comes from living alone, and you know how that Texas sun turns your skin to leather if you don’t slather on sunscreen every day.”
“But he still supervised the running of the ranch and rode his horses.”
“Yes, indeed. From what I heard, he’d hardly let anyone else touch his quarter horses. Rumor was he loved them like they were his babies.”
Too bad he hadn’t felt that way about Luke or his mother.
Esther stared into her cup. “I guess the doctor told you the stroke affected his memory. I reckon it’s getting better, though.
“The first time Grace and I drove down to visit him, he had no idea who we were. Went into a rant. Accused us of trying to steal things from his room.”
“Now, that sounds like the father I remember.”
“I think this was more than attitude. Before I left he was calling Grace and me by name, as if it just suddenly came to him who the heck we were. He settled down after that.”
“I ran into Buck Stallings when I arrived at the ranch yesterday. He told me Dad’s hired hands disappeared when my father had the stroke and wasn’t around to pay them.”
“They quit, all right. Just up and rode off without bothering to tell anybody. Pierce thinks they probably made off with enough equipment to make up for any wages they lost.”
“Sounds like Alfred owes Pierce and Dudley Miles a great deal for stepping in and taking care of his livestock and horses.”
“They aren’t expecting any thanks. People around these parts take care of their neighbors when they see a need even if the neighbor is as ornery as Alfred. My Charlie would have been the first one to the rescue if he was still living.”
“I’m sure he would. I’m sorry about your loss.”
“I appreciate that. You know, I keep thinking I’ll miss him less as days go by, but it doesn’t work that way. Spend almost half a century of your life with a person and he’s as much a part of you as breathing.”
Luke’s longest relationship to date had lasted just over three months. He couldn’t even imagine that many years with the same woman, but he nodded like he got it.
Esther worried the handle of her coffee mug and then took another sip. “You think it’s over, but life goes on. Blessings, too.” A smile touched her lips and glinted in her eyes. “Never had a family of my own. Now I’m overrun with kids and grandkids that I couldn’t love more if they were flesh and blood.”
“You seem happy.”
“If I felt any better, I’d drop my harp plumb through the clouds.” She pushed her cup away. “And here I go rambling on about my good fortune with you here to talk about your poor father.”
“I was just thinking that if Dad didn’t recognize you, it’s definitely not likely he’ll recognize me.”
“No way of knowing. How long has it been since you were last here in Winding Creek?”
“Going on twelve years.”
“But you’ve surely talked since then?”
“I call at Christmas and Father’s Day when I’m somewhere I can. The conversations are strained, awkward and short. We didn’t talk a lot more when we lived together unless he was barking orders.”
Esther reached across the table and laid a blue-veined and wrinkled hand on his. “I know you two have had a rocky relationship and it’s mostly his doing. But he needs you, Luke. You’re the only family he’s got, and let’s face it, he’s better at making enemies than friends.”
Dread ground in the pit of Luke’s stomach. He’d arrived at Esther’s this morning holding out a little hope that things weren’t as bad as he feared. Now he figured they were worse and there was no easy fix in sight.
“Guess I’d better get going if I’m going to see Dad before I talk to the medical supervisor. I have a few more chores I want to get done at the ranch before I leave.”
He finished off the rest of his coffee, stood and carried his cup to the sink.
Esther followed him. “I’ll be gone to Grace’s baby shower this afternoon, but I’ll be home tonight or after church tomorrow if you want to discuss what comes next with Alfred or just blow off a little frustration.”
“I may take you up on that, and I appreciate all you and the other neighbors have done.”
“Even better, why don’t you join us for dinner tonight, Luke? It’s a night off from kitchen duties for the women, since we’re throwing the baby shower for Pierce’s wife, Grace, but Pierce and Riley are grilling.”
“Riley Lawrence?”
“Yes. Pierce, Riley and Tucker Lawrence. I figured you’d remember them.”
“I remember that you and Charlie took them in for nearly a year after their parents were killed in the car crash.”
Luke had been envious of the brothers, had wished the Kavanaughs had taken him in after his mother died instead of leaving him to take the brunt of his dad’s verbal abuse and mean disposition.
Luke twirled the strong black brew in his mug and then sipped. “Sounds like a family reunion.”
“I guess it is, of sorts, except that two of the Lawrence brothers are happily married and living in Winding Creek now. Tucker and Sydney have an apartment in Dallas, but with his rodeoing and Sydney’s work as an FBI agent, I think they call this home as much as anywhere else.”
“Whatever works.”
“That’s what I say, too,” Esther agreed. “Come to dinner tonight and the guys can catch you up on all their news.”
“I’d love to see them if you’re sure I won’t be intruding.”
“There’s always room for one more at my old dining room table. How about you, Luke? Are you married?”
“Nope. Never even came close and plan to keep it that way.”
She smiled and he could swear he saw a conspiratorial gleam in her eye.
“Seems like I remember Pierce, Riley and Tucker saying that exact same thing not too long ago.”
He stood to go. “Stay here,” he said. “I can let myself out.”
“We’ll be looking for you tonight. Come hungry.”
“I’m always hungry.”
When he reached the short hallway, he heard voices and recognized Rachel’s at once. An unexpected surge of pleasure overrode some of the anxiety about dealing with his father.
A decent meal and a visit with the Lawrence brothers would be nice, but it was the thought of seeing Rachel again that really cranked up his anticipation.
* * *
SYDNEY LAWRENCE LOOKED up from the fingernail she was applying a mending touch of red polish to as Rachel swept into the room. “Holy Smoly, do you look hot!”
Rachel did a quick twirl in the full-skirted, jewel-toned dress and then struck a sexy pose. “Is it too dressy for an afternoon party?”
“It’s perfect. I love the cutout at the neck.”
“Not too much cleavage?”
“Heavens, no. Barely a hint. Love those strappy heels, too.”
“It was either this or one of the depressing navy or gray suits I wear to work. Oops. I used to wear to work.”
“I have to say you’re taking your newly unemployed status well. I was afraid you’d be in the dumps and not even show.”
“I’m not sure the full reality of my situation has hit me yet.”
“Or maybe it has and that’s why you’re glowing.”
“No. That’s the new blush I picked up at Macy’s last week. Dusty Fire. Guaranteed to set me apart from the crowd.”
“From the way hunky Luke Dawkins was looking at you today, I’d say it’s surpassing promised expectations.”
“He was just being nice and making conversation.”
“Really? Because it sure seemed like there was a sizzle between you two when I met you at the door.”
“Don’t even go there. My life is too screwed up right now to even notice a man.”
But Sydney knew she had noticed. The rosy color creeping into her cheeks right now was proof of that. A casual flirtation might do Rachel good, but Sydney doubted she was emotionally ready for anything more.
Rachel sat on the edge of the bed amid the wrapped packages. “Is Esther going to ride into town with us?” she asked, no doubt ready to direct the conversation away from Luke.
“No, Pierce is going to drive Grace and Esther to the bakery and he’ll pick up Dani’s daughter, Constance, and bring her back here to play with his daughter, Jaci, while we party.”
“Dad in charge. Everything around here really is a family affair,” Rachel said.
“I know and I love it. Do you still want to keep the fact that you quit your job a secret from the rest of the family?”
“For now. This is Grace’s special weekend. I don’t want it to turn into a whine party for me.”
“I haven’t even had a chance to tell Tucker yet.”
“When are you expecting him?”
“He called a few minutes ago. He’s about an hour out, so he’ll be at the ranch by the time we get back from the party.”
“And then you’ll forget the rest of us exist.”
“True.” Which was exactly why she should tackle the bad news she had for Rachel now.
She couldn’t bring herself to do it. This was the most relaxed she’d seen Rachel since she’d lived through hell. She couldn’t bring herself to spoil the moment. Tomorrow would be soon enough to drag her back into the Roy Sales hell.
* * *
ODDS WERE AGAINST Rachel feeling at home at a baby shower in Winding Creek. Everyone in town knew of her terrifying past.
The saving grace was that since they knew the intimate details, no one ever mentioned it to her.
There would be no endless questions the way there often were when she met someone new. No staring at her as if the experience made her less human now. No more expressions of pity that made Rachel feel worse instead of better about herself.
She and Sydney grabbed the gifts from the back of Sydney’s car and joined the stream of chatting and laughing local women pouring into Dani’s Delights.
Rachel set the wrapped baby carrier on the floor next to a long table that was already overflowing with presents. A squeal captured her attention just as Dani and Riley Lawrence’s eleven-year-old newly adopted daughter threw her arms around Rachel’s waist.
“Yay. You came. You can go riding with us tomorrow. We have two new horses. And I’m learning to be a barrel rider. I can show you.”
Words spilled out of Constance’s mouth so fast, Rachel could barely follow her train of thought. Constance’s excitement was contagious, exactly what Rachel needed to keep her in the here and now. “I’m staying all day tomorrow and I brought my riding clothes. And I definitely want a barrel riding exhibition.”
“I’m pretty good. One day I want to be in the rodeo like Uncle Tucker.”
“Now, that sounds exciting. When you are, I’ll be in the stands cheering for you.”
“Yes, but my parents say I still have to study hard at school even if horses don’t care if I know about geography and math. I hate math, especially word problems.”
Dani appeared at her daughter’s side, opened her arms and welcomed Rachel with a warm hug. “I’m so glad you could make it. By the way, you look terrific. I need to absorb some of your fashion savvy.”
“You’re the most popular woman in town in your chocolate-and flour-smeared white apron. If I were you, I wouldn’t change a thing.”
They laughed and then all attention turned to the front door as the guest of honor arrived, accompanied by Esther, Pierce and his daughter, Jaci.
The baby bump was no longer just a bump. Grace was due in a matter of weeks and, with her petite frame, she looked to be all baby.
Nonetheless, she was as beautiful as ever and Pierce helped her to the chair situated beneath a colorful balloon arch as if she was the most fragile and cherished treasure on earth.
Someone pushed a crystal flute of sparkling champagne into Rachel’s hand. The bell around the door dinged as another group of laughing ladies entered. The party had begun and surprisingly the celebratory spirit overtook even Rachel.
Grace sounded positively joyous and yet she’d once lived in a hellish nightmare, too. Rachel wondered if she’d ever find the kind of happiness Grace enjoyed.
Could she let herself?
* * *
LUKE DAWKINS DROVE the forty-five minutes to the rehab center on the outskirts of San Antonio where his dad was receiving his care. He arrived at approximately half past two for a three o’clock appointment with the medical supervisor.
The L-shaped building was redbrick, set in a parklike setting with several bare-branched oak trees and a few pines shading benches and small, gurgling fountains.
Not the worst of places to be housed if you needed care, but definitely not the wide-open spaces of Arrowhead Hills.
There was a covered drop-off area at the front door. A sign directed him to a visitor parking lot in the rear. A couple of dozen cars and trucks and two vans emblazoned with the name of the center were parked near the back entrance.
Luke climbed out of his truck and locked it before sauntering up the narrow walk to the back door. He hesitated before opening the door, gearing himself to deal with whatever came next.
His father had been fifty-eight when Luke cut out. A big man, over six feet tall, muscles developed from a lifetime of hard work. Rigid. Hardheaded. His way or the highway.
But Luke himself had changed a lot in eleven years and not just physically. He was less impulsive, more prone to think before acting. Maybe time or aging and the stroke had mellowed Alfred.
He stopped at the nurses’ station at the end of a short hallway. One nurse was at her computer. Another was on the phone. What he guessed was an aide pushed a patient in a wheelchair down the hall as Luke waited for one of the nurses to acknowledge him.
The man in the wheelchair waved and smiled—a dead giveaway it wasn’t Alfred.
Nurse number two, a middle-aged brunette with short hair and extremely red lipstick, hung up her phone and asked if she could help him. Her name tag said she was an RN named Louise.
“I’m Alfred Dawkins’s son. I have an appointment.”
Louise clapped her hands together softly as a smile lit up her face. “You must be Luke. We’ve been hoping a family member would show up.”
“I came as soon as I could and I was assured he was not in critical condition.”
“He’s fine, but he’s a handful to deal with. I’m sure he’ll be much easier to handle now that you’re here.”
“I wouldn’t count on that. I also have an appointment with Carolyn Schultz.”
“Great. I know she’s looking forward to discussing Alfred’s progress with you. She’s not here yet, but your father is in his room, probably watching TV. I’m sure you’re anxious to see him.”
Anxious, but not eager. But he could think of no legitimate excuse to put the visit off.
“Alfred is in Room 109, just around the corner. Now, don’t get upset if he doesn’t recognize you at once. He sometimes gets confused when he has visitors.”
“I understand.”
“Other times he’s clued in and recognizes visitors right away. Either way, he’s slow at getting his words out.”
“I’ll keep my expectations low.” That should be easy enough.
He followed the nurse to Alfred’s room. She entered before him. Alfred was propped up in a hospital bed, wearing a blue shirt only half-buttoned with food stains down the front. He looked frail and years older than Luke remembered him.
He felt a jolt to his gut. The man in the hospital bed was not the father he remembered.
Louise walked over and stood next to Alfred’s bed. “You have a visitor,” she announced in a cheery voice.
Alfred grunted and pulled up his sheet before looking at Luke. For the first few seconds, there was nothing in his facial expression to indicate he recognized Luke. Then his thin lips all but disappeared in a scowl.
Louise stood back so that Luke could step in closer. “Do you know who this is?” she asked.
“Hell, yes. But he’s...too soon. I’m not...not dead yet.”
That was the father he remembered.
Welcome home, Luke Dawkins.
Chapter Six (#u233b9fe2-90b4-590a-aef2-79feae13f7c7)
Luke’s emotions had run the gauntlet over the past few hours. His nerves had skidded along for the maddening ride from concern to fuming to disgruntled exasperation. By the time he stopped behind a row of three pickup trucks at the Kavanaugh house, he was slowly inching toward reason.
His dad hadn’t sent for him and clearly didn’t want him around. The easiest and likely the smartest thing Luke could do right now was clear out. Let his dad hire someone to run his own damn ranch any way he liked or let it go to weed and empty pastures if that was the way hardheaded Alfred Dawkins wanted it.
But Luke had never looked for the easy way out or shirked responsibility—which left him stuck neck-deep in the dilemma of where to go from here.
He struggled to rein in his conflicting emotions as he reached Esther’s wide front porch. He put his hand on the doorbell but didn’t push.
Coming here was a mistake. There was no way he’d be decent dinner company tonight. Besides, judging from the trucks parked out front, he was likely late.
Before he could cut and run, the door opened and Rachel Maxwell greeted him with a melodic hello that softened the edges of his lousy mood like magic.
Her voice wasn’t the half of it. She’d been a knockout this morning in her jeans and cotton shirt. All fancied up, she was luscious.
It wasn’t the dress so much as the way she wore it. The soft fabric hugged her perfect breasts and then tightened at her tiny waist before billowing out over her shapely hips.
The skirt stopped a few inches above the knees, highlighting her dynamite calves and the straps on a pair of nosebleed heels that wrapped around her slender ankles.
When she smiled and looked at him with those gold-specked, dusky eyes, he turned away to keep from melting. He had to pull his gaze away from her before he could speak.
“I didn’t know we were playing dress-up. I’d have come with my boots shined and my jeans creased,” he said, determined to keep the tone light.
She laughed and motioned him inside. “You’ll fit in perfectly. Normally I’d be in jeans myself, but I decided to go for the girly look at Grace’s baby shower this afternoon.”
“You aced it.”
“Thank you, I guess.”
“Is this the Grace who’s married to Pierce Lawrence?”
“Yes. Have you met her?”
“Haven’t had the pleasure.”
“You’ll love her, guaranteed. She went home to rest awhile, but she’ll be back for dinner.”
“Then I must be too early. I’m not crashing,” he teased. “I was actually invited by Esther, but she didn’t mention a time.”
“The guys are doing the cooking chores tonight You can never tie them down to a time. They tend to grill for hours.”
“Ranchers need their beef and plenty of it,” Luke said.
“So it seems. I’m a city girl myself. Sushi and a salad are my usual Saturday night splurge.”
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear you say that.”
“Does that mean you’re a cowboy, too?”
“I am this week.”
“There must be a story there.”
“Not one you’d want to hear before dinner—or after, either, for that matter.”
“Now you’ve really piqued my curiosity. Do you know all three of the Lawrence brothers?”
“We went to school together many years ago.”
“Pierce and Riley are in the backyard slaving over the hot charcoal. They may put you to work if you venture that way, but I’m sure they’d love to see you again and say hello.”
“Sounds like a good idea.”
“Then follow me.”
The view was almost as spectacular from the rear. Hard to imagine he could feel anything sensual after the visit he’d had with his father, but maybe it was his survival instincts kicking in. Or perhaps the fact that he hadn’t been with a woman in more months than he could count on his fingers and toes.
More likely it was simply that she was a natural temptress.
They walked through the house, onto the covered back porch and down the few steps to the yard. Mouthwatering odors spilled from a huge barrel-shaped grill.
They walked closer and watched as Riley basted a slab of ribs with one hand. The fingers of the other hand were wrapped around a beer.
Pierce stepped over to greet them. “Glad you could make it, Luke. Esther said she twisted your arm to accept her dinner invitation.”
“Actually, she just said ‘food’ and I jumped at the chance.”
“As you can see, we have enough meat here to clog the arteries of a dozen more guys,” Riley said.
“Don’t bet on it. My arteries haven’t seen a Texas meal like this in recent memory.”
Pierce turned to Riley. “You remember Luke Dawkins, don’t you?”

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