Revenge

  Murdered. The word kept echoing through Max’s head and he wondered how it could have happened. The thought was unfathomable. True, his father had manipulated people and created more than his share of enemies. But murder? What had Jonah done that would make anyone want to kill him?

  Max finished the dregs of his cold coffee, scowled at the bitter taste and set the cup aside. He tried to concentrate on some of the problems at the company. Two of the buildings in town needed to be renovated, but the tenants didn’t want to deal with the inconvenience and noise of construction. They’d put together a petition claiming that they liked the aging Taylor Building and the three-storied old hotel just the way they were. The tenants were unhappy about the prospect of improvements that would mean an increase in their monthly rents. It didn’t matter that the buildings were all but condemned, with the electrical wiring as well as the plumbing in both buildings needing to be completely redone.

  There was a problem at the ranch, as well. A buyer for the cattle had backed out of the deal.

  And then there was Skye. His jaw tightened and his mood turned even blacker.

  It had been nearly a week since he’d last seen her at her house and those days had crept by at an agonizingly slow pace. He’d spent the weekend with Hillary, taking her fishing, playing catch with her, even participating reluctantly in a tea party. He’d watched as she’d tried to ride one of the older horses at the ranch with Dani Donahue Stewart as her instructor. He’d managed to speak civilly to Dani, though the two of them had never really gotten along. Throughout their short conversation, Max had tried to ignore the fact that Dani was Skye’s sister, but it had proved impossible.

  Eventually he’d taken an unwilling Hillary back to Colleen’s house and left with the same heart-wrenching sense of loneliness that was with him every time he turned his back on his little girl. Hillary’s tears tore at his soul, her trembling lower lip causing him the worst kind of mental anguish, and her outstretched arms were an invitation he was unable to ignore. Colleen and he would always be at odds, fighting for his only child.

  A chill as cold as January settled over him.

  Hillary and Skye—the only two things that made his miserable life worth living. The only two things that he never could have.

  He gave himself a swift mental kick. How could he have been so stupid to have proposed to Skye, for God’s sake, and why would he dare think that she would give up her life, a life she’d carved out for herself, for him and his daughter? He swatted at a fly buzzing lazily near the window and felt the urge to stretch his legs, get out of the office, run away from all the hassles at the company.

  His father, curse the old man, had been right. Skye was not the right kind of woman for him. Too stubborn. Too independent. Too...too much like him. “Son of a bitch,” he growled under his breath as he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. He needed to get out of here; the walls were closing in on him. In just a few hours he could pick up his daughter. Together they’d have the best weekend in the world and he wouldn’t dwell for an instant on Dr. Skye Donahue.

  Skye lost five pounds in one week. Her appetite was nonexistent and she worked herself around the clock, from the minute she arose in the morning at 5:00 a.m. until she finally tumbled into bed near midnight.

  After her usual morning run, she spent a full day at the clinic, and following a quick dinner, she tore into her work at the old apartment house. She spent her evenings cleaning, spackling, painting and wallpapering until her arms ached and her mind spun in weary circles. With every ounce of strength in her body, she forced herself to keep busy, to work until she dropped, so that she wouldn’t second-guess herself about Max.

  She wouldn’t allow herself to fall in love with him. It would be too easy and only bring her heartache. But avoiding him proved impossible. Rimrock was a small community. Everyone knew everyone else’s business and the fact that Max’s brother lived upstairs didn’t help. If that wasn’t enough, the clinic was leased through one of the companies that Max owned.

  No matter how much she tried to deny it, she was entangled with the McKees and would be as long as she stayed in Rimrock.

  Maybe coming back home had been a mistake, she thought as she emptied the pockets of her lab coat and dropped it in the hamper near the back door of the clinic. She’d never been a second-guesser, but dealing with Max was more than a challenge. It was a downright impossible task.

  As she locked the clinic on Friday night, she rubbed the tension from the muscles of her neck. A dry wind blowing in from the east blew her hair over her face as she walked back home. It was time to treat herself. She considered all her options before settling for a hot bubble bath, a glass of cold Chablis and a good book. She’d go to bed at a decent hour for a change and will herself to keep thoughts of Max and all she’d given up at bay.

  Or she’d confront him. Clear the air and tell him what she thought. If she was going to spend the next twenty years or so in Rimrock, she and one Maxwell McKee needed to get a few things straight.

  Max swung the ax with such force that it split the knotty piece of oak clean through. He kicked the halves aside and grabbed another short log before hoisting the ax over his head and breathing hard. Again the sharp blade sliced through the air and cleaved the mossy chunk into two pieces.

  “Looks to me like a bad case of sexual frustration.” Jenner’s voice carried on the stiff breeze and Max grimaced. The last thing he needed,was some advice from his hellion of a brother.

  “Yeah, and what would you know about it?”

  “Plenty.” Jenner swaggered toward the woodshed where Max was making kindling. “If this doesn’t work, you can take up long-distance running or maybe shadowboxing.”

  “Thanks for the advice,” Max snarled.

  “Well, there’s always cold showers, but they only work for so long.”

  Max tossed down the ax. Already spoiling for a fight, he would’ve liked nothing better than to knock Jenner on his denim-clad, know-it-all butt. He flexed his fists and Jenner had the irreverence to laugh.

  “Man, you’ve got it bad.”

  “What?”

  “Woman fever.” Jenner leaned his shoulders against the unpainted siding of the old shed and propped the heel of one boot on the rough, weathered boards.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Then I’ll make it simple. Dr. Skye Donahue.”

  “That’s finished.”

  “Sure.” Jenner’s eyes silently accused him of being a first-class idiot.

  Max wasn’t in the mood for his brother’s unspoken insults. He wiped the sweat from his brow on his shirt, which he’d hung from a nail, and picked up the ax.

  “You know, you’ve been hell to get along with.”

  “Good thing you don’t live with me.”

  “Yeah, good for me, but what about Hillary?”

  Max stopped short. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that for the first time in your life you’ve been so caught up in your own problems that you’ve ignored her. You weren’t this bad during the divorce.”

  “I haven’t—”

  “Where is she now?”

  “In the house with Mom.”

  Jenner’s mouth compressed. “She’s in the corral with Dani Stewart, trying to learn how to be a damned trick rider.”

  “Hell!” Max glanced at his watch and realized that for the first time since Hillary started taking lessons, he wasn’t standing at the fence rail, watching and encouraging his daughter.

  “Face it, Max. Right now you’re no damned use to any of us.”

  Max didn’t listen, just shoved his arms through the sleeves of his shirt and ran, shirttail flapping in the breeze, past the stables toward the corral. Night was settling in, shadows stretching long on the dusty ground, leaves turning in the wind. He thought he saw someone crouching behind a horse trailer parked near the brood-mare barn, but when he looked again, the person had disappeared. Probably just Cheste
r or one of the hands finishing up. It bothered him a little, but he didn’t have time to figure out who was trying to duck out of last-minute chores.

  As he rounded the corner of the barn, he saw Hillary seated high in the saddle, her chubby little fingers tight on the reins, while Dani, lead rope in hand, commanded the mare to walk in a wide circle. Max’s frozen heart melted at the sight of his daughter.

  Skye was right about one thing. He loved kids, and if he had his choice, he would have half a dozen of them running around the ranch, yelling, fighting, playing and raising hell as he and his sister and brother had done. The tire swing in the backyard had never been taken down, the sandbox was still intact, and the trails that ran through the woods and along the banks of Wildcat Creek might be overgrown but still existed, as did the rope that hung from a branch of an old oak tree near the swimming hole. All waiting for his children. He gritted his teeth as he realized he’d have no more. Hillary was his one and only, and just a part-time daughter at that.

  Damn, what a mess.

  “Daddy, Daddy!” Hillary called out upon spying him. Perched atop an aging palomino mare, she grinned widely. “Watch me!”

  “You got it, pumpkin.”

  Dani clucked her tongue, and the mare moved into a slow trot around the circle. Hillary’s curls bounced around her face and she laughed in delight. “Faster, faster,” she yelled, kicking at the mare’s sides.

  “First you have to learn to handle her at this pace,” Dani said, her smile never faltering.

  “But I want to go faster!”

  “We’ll get there,” Dani promised. She smiled up at Hillary before she spied Max and her grin faltered slightly.

  Max didn’t really understand her animosity. He knew that she hated all things McKee, except Casey, whom she’d come to trust, and Hillary. Dani seemed to have mellowed over the years, though her marriage to Jeff Stewart was rumored to be stormy. Several times in the past year, they’d separated, only to get back together again. Max didn’t know the details; he figured it was none of his business. All he knew was that, in the past few months, she seemed to have thawed somewhat where the McKees were concerned.

  “You look great,” Max called from the fence.

  “I’m gonna be a rodeo rider.”

  He laughed. “And I thought you wanted to be a bride.”

  “A bride and a rodeo rider.”

  Skye’s heart knocked as she drove through the gates of the Rocking M. Twilight had turned the sky a deep, slumberous purple shade and the first twinkling lights of stars were visible in the heavens.

  A stiff breeze played in the trees that lined the drive, causing the leaves to rustle in quiet whispers. Skye’s palms were damp on the steering wheel of the Mustang as the sprawling ranch house and stables came into view.

  Beneath the anticipation singing through her blood was a nameless fear. What if Max refused to listen to her? What if he threw her off the ranch? What, oh, God, what if he hated her?

  She saw him the second she pulled into the parking area. He was standing at the fence, his tanned arms folded over the top rail, jean-covered hips thrust out, boots crossed at the ankle, his eyes trained on the paddock. His hair ruffled in the evening wind.

  Skye’s breath caught for a second, as it always seemed to do when she first caught sight of him. She had never really stopped loving him, probably never would, and yet their paths, which seemed to cross so often, didn’t lead in the same direction. Tears burned at the back of her eyes, but she told herself to stop moping.

  Hillary, chubby fingers tight around the reins, was riding a small mare. Dani was in the paddock with her, instructing the little girl in keeping her balance and using the leather straps attached to the bridle to communicate with the horse. Though Dani had the horse on a lead, Hillary was issuing commands, trying to make the mare move more quickly.

  Max, hearing the Mustang’s engine, turned to glance over his shoulder, and his pleasant expression turned instantly hard and menacing.

  Skye’s stomach turned over. This wasn’t going to be easy. From his harsh expression, it was obvious it was going to be hell making any attempts at conversation.

  Great.

  Refusing to lose her nerve, she walked up and took a position near him, her eyes focused on horse and rider, her heart thudding so loudly she wondered if he could hear it. He smelled of sweat and musk, the scents lingering in the air tinged with the faint smell of smoke.

  “Dr. Donahue,” he drawled. “Well, surprise, surprise. What is this, a house call?”

  Her temper simmered but she held her tongue. “I thought we needed to talk.”

  “Oh, so this isn’t a professional visit.”

  “Knock it off, Max.” She saw Dani staring at her, and Skye, forcing a smile she didn’t feel, waved to her sister.

  “Didn’t we say everything we had to?”

  You knew he wouldn’t let you off easy, she reminded herself, but she hadn’t expected the glacial coldness in his eyes, the angry set of his jaw, the stern censure of his stance. “You don’t have to make this harder than it already is.”

  “I’m busy.”

  She touched his sleeve and he jerked away, the lines around the corners of his mouth deepening.

  “Fine. You want to talk,” he said, as the wind seemed to rise and tug at Skye’s hair, “I’m listening.”

  It’s now or never. The moment you’ve been waiting for. “It would be better done in private.”

  Eyes narrowing at her, he hesitated. “In private,” he said suspiciously, an impatient tic developing near his jawline. “Well, why not? How about in the barn? That private enough?”

  “It’ll have to be.”

  With a wave to Hillary, he started across the yard, his boots crunching on the gravel. “I don’t have much time,” he said, checking his watch. “The lesson’s over in less than ten minutes. Hillary and I always go out to dinner—”

  “You don’t have to be a bastard, you know.”

  He whirled to face her, and for the first time she saw beneath his anger to a glimmer of other, harder-to-define emotions hidden deep in his eyes. He grabbed her forearms, his fingers digging deep into the soft flesh. “I’m just not ready for you to start playing your mind games with me, Skye.”

  Jenner walked out of the house at that moment. His lips curled into a smug smile and Max didn’t waste any time. He propelled Skye to the barn and kicked open the door, strode through and yanked it shut with one hand.

  They were alone.

  The barn was dark and warm. The smells of dry hay and dust, oil and leather permeated the air. As strong as a manacle, one of Max’s hands still clenched her arm in anger. “What is it you want, Skye?” he asked, his voice low.

  “I want us to be civil to each other.”

  “Civil? After what we’ve been through?” He glared at her as if she’d lost her mind. “What is this, Skye, some kind of game?”

  “You should know by now that I don’t play games.”

  “Is that so?” His eyes had turned dark in the half light of the barn. “Funny. I’d say that’s all you’ve ever done. Say one thing, do another.”

  “I didn’t come here to be insulted.”

  “Then why are you here, huh? Just wanted to see if I was still holding up? Well, I’m doing great, Skye, and believe it or not, I think I’ll manage to live without you just fine.”

  She nearly gasped at the asperity in his words.

  He hooked a thumb at his chest and growled, “Hillary and I did okay for a long time without you. It won’t be such a loss.”

  She felt as if she’d been slapped, but then what had she expected? “We can’t do this to each other.”

  “Do what?”

  “Keep trying to hurt each other.”

  “Listen to me, Doctor,” he snarled, grabbing her shoulders roughly. His skin stretched taut across his cheekbones and his eyes blazed with fury. “We aren’t doing anything to each other anymore.” The words were harsh, but she noticed the to
rment in his gaze as he glared down at her.

  The barn seemed to grow hot, and inside that forbidden part of her heart, she felt an unlikely jab of hope, like a faint ray of sunlight piercing through the fog. “Aren’t we?” she whispered.

  “What do you want from me?”

  Desperation tore at her soul. “I just don’t want you to hate me,” she said, and her throat was suddenly clogged with tears and something else, something choking.

  Smoke.

  The terrified scream of a horse cut through the silence.

  “What the hell?” Max’s head snapped up, and that’s when Skye felt the searing heat, heard the ominous roar of fire. “My God,” Max whispered, released her and started running. On the windows of the barn, she saw the reflections of flames, bloodred and shooting upward. “Hillary!” He was out of the barn in an instant, and Skye ran after him, her heart thudding in fear, panic streaming through her blood.

  Men shouted. Horses squealed.

  “Fire!” a ranch hand yelled, rushing toward the stables. Horses in the pastures were neighing and galloping toward the hills, their eyes crazed in terror.

  Windows cracked in the stables and black smoke billowed into the sky. Flames, fanned by the hot dry wind, crackled upward, licking greedily at the roof and siding, causing the paint to peel. And the heat—such intense, lung-scorching heat.

  Heart in her throat, Skye scanned the paddock where, only a few minutes before, Dani and Hillary had been working with the little mare.

  “Hillary!” Max yelled just as the foreman caught up with him.

  “I think she and the trainer are in the stables,” Chester gasped, racing to the stables and throwing open one of the doors. Panicked horses, whinnying, hooves flaying, sweat lathering their hides, raced into the paddock.

  “Oh, God, no,” Skye moaned, but Max didn’t break stride, just rushed at the inferno. “Max, don’t—” But she cut herself off, for she, too, would fight the flames of hell to save his daughter and her sister.