Disclosure: The McCaffertys

  Molly’s face burst into a wide grin and Mindy glanced up at Slade through her eyelashes.

  “Go on!” he said, and they took off, running down the hallway toward the kitchen.

  Straightening, Slade found Jamie staring at him as if he’d lost his mind. “I never thought I’d see the day,” she said. “You? Going out for a Christmas tree with two little girls? In a sleigh?”

  “Well, Counselor, maybe there are a few things you don’t know about me.”

  “Maybe.”

  “You could come along if you want.” The thought of her bundled up next to him in the sleigh held more than a little appeal.

  “I—I’m here on business.”

  “After business.”

  “I don’t know. I’m not really dressed for it...”

  “All you have to do is ride. I’ll handle the horse and hauling the tree. Come on, you know what they say about ‘all work and no play.’”

  “It pays the bills?”

  “Yeah, that’s it,” he remarked as Kurt, zipping his jacket walked through the hallway and out the front door.

  “I’ll call you later,” he promised, then hitched a thumb toward the living room. “It would help a helluva lot if your sister cooperated.”

  “She’s trying.”

  “Like hell. Talk some sense into her. Before she gets herself killed.” Without pausing for an introduction, Striker stormed out of the house.

  “Nice guy,” Jamie observed, and it wasn’t just her opinion. Randi was beside herself in the living room.

  “What an A number-one jerk,” she raved, carrying the baby and, limping, making her way to the window as if to make sure that Kurt Striker was actually leaving.

  “He’s just what we need,” Slade countered.

  “Since when do we need a rude, obnoxious jerk poking around?” Randi demanded.

  “Since someone tried to kill you and you can’t or won’t tell us what happened.”

  “Don’t you think I’d be the first one to go to the police and explain who was doing this if I knew?”

  “I don’t know, Randi,” Slade admitted. “I honestly don’t know.”

  “You miserable...” Randi glanced over at Thorne and met an expression as hard and determined as Slade’s, and when she turned to Matt, she swallowed back any further argument because from the determination in his dark eyes it was clear that even he was taking a hard line with her.

  “This is serious stuff, kiddo,” Slade pointed out. “I was willing to believe that maybe you were in just some kind of odd, single-car accident, but then someone tried to kill you in the hospital. You don’t remember it, but I do. Damn, it was scary, so don’t argue with us, okay? The police are fine, but we need more. I’ve known Striker for years. He’s good. He’ll find out who’s behind all this, but you’ve got to help him.”

  She gritted her teeth, looked down at her baby and then sighed as she saw little Joshua move his tiny lips. “Okay, I’ll try,” she vowed. “Really, I will, but there’s something about that guy I don’t trust.”

  The baby opened his eyes and suddenly began to fuss. All of Randi’s attention was riveted on her son. “Uh-oh. Look who’s getting cranky.” She dropped a kiss onto his forehead, then nuzzled his cheek. “Bedtime for you, I think,” she said, and winked at her baby. The transformation was remarkable. Ready to take on Kurt Striker and the whole damned world one minute, Randi became a doting mother whose only concern was her baby the next. She breezed out of the room, and Slade watched her climb the stairs. Once she’d disappeared, he looked at Thorne. “It would help if she would cooperate a little more.”

  “Oh, give her a break.” Matt eased away from the window and tossed a log onto the dying fire. “She can’t remember much.”

  Slade’s gaze lingered on the stairway. “So she says.”

  “You’re not buying it?”

  “Nope,” Slade admitted. “Not in a million years. I think our sister is hiding something.”

  “What?”

  “Now that’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?”

  * * *

  “What are we gonna do?” Randi asked as she tucked Joshua’s blanket to his neck. His eyes were already closed and he let out a soft little sigh that nearly broke her heart. Lord, how she loved him. She hadn’t known that kind of love was possible, though her father had warned her enough. “Wait till you have yourself a little one,” John Randall had told her one day before he’d died. “Then you’ll understand what it’s like to love something more than life itself.”

  It had been early spring and he’d been sitting on the porch and watching the spindly legged foals scamper in the field they called Big Meadow. While the mares had lazily plucked grass, their tails switching at flies, the rambunctious fillies and colts had bucked and galloped through the long grass. Her father had nodded to himself, approving of his wisdom. He’d grabbed her hand with long fingers and a surprisingly strong grip. “You think you’re invincible, you think nothing can hurt you, but once you have a child, that’s when you’re vulnerable, when you experience real fear for the first time.”

  She hadn’t really understood him at the time, but now, looking down at her baby, realizing that if she didn’t stop whoever was trying to harm her, her son could be injured. John Randall’s words had new meaning.

  She thought of the baby’s father...yes, no matter what she said to her brothers, she knew darned well who had sired her baby. And the bastard didn’t deserve to know about him.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered to little Joshua. So innocent. Someday he would have to know the truth, hard as it was. “I’ll take care of you,” she promised, smoothing his downy red hair. “I promise. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

  She turned and found Slade standing in the doorway of the nursery. His arms were folded over his chest, a shoulder propped on the door frame. “You got something you want to tell me?” he asked, and she felt a second’s hesitation. Could she confide in him? Slade and she were the closest, not only in age, but temperament. And that was the problem. If Slade knew the circumstances behind Josh’s conception and birth, he’d go ballistic.

  “What would that be?” she asked, offering him a smile as she pressed a finger to her lips and turned off the light. She grabbed Slade’s arm and propelled him into the hallway where she left the door to the nursery slightly ajar.

  His lips pulled into a tight, unyielding frown. “I think you’re holding out,” he said, resting his hips on the railing of the upper landing.

  “How’s that?”

  “Something’s up with you, Randi, and don’t try to deny it. You’re talking to me, remember? I know you. This amnesia thing is all a blind. Smoke and mirrors. I think you’ve got yourself into some kind of big trouble and you’re pretending not to remember it in the hope that it’ll conveniently disappear.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “I’m thinking that you’ve manipulated all of us—Thorne, Matt and me—even the doctors—so that word will leak out to the street via the press. You’re a reporter, and you know how that works. You’re hoping that you can buy yourself some time with the amnesia bit.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “My guess is because you’re scared. Either you’re protecting someone or you need some time in order to...” He snapped his fingers. “Is it about the book? Have you got yourself into some hot water over the book? Striker and the police have already questioned everyone at the paper and gone through all your old articles, even the ones written under the name of R.J. McKay.”

  “R.J.?” she repeated.

  “The freelance articles...”

  The name did ring a bell—a far-distant bell.

  “Your editor thought you probably wrote them for some extra cash.”

  “I...I suppose.”

  “But they weren’t anything that would get you into any trouble, nor were your columns, not that we could figure. So either what’s got you on the run is—”

  “I’m not on the run,” she clarified. “I?
??m recuperating. As soon as I can, I intend to reclaim my life, pack up Joshua—” she hitched a thumb to the cracked nursery door “—and return to Seattle. I’ve already talked to my boss. Bill wants me back as soon as I can get there, so I’m not on the run.”

  “Fine, but you’re scared. And you’re involved in something dangerous. Is it the book? What could that be? Are you writing some kind of exposé on political crime or the Mob or...what? Or is it J.R., er, Josh’s dad?” He stared at her and she saw that he cared, really cared. Slade, for all his bluster and bravado and macho attitude, had a soft side, a soul that could be hurt.

  “Tell ya what,” she said, fighting the urge to tell him everything. “As soon as I remember anything important, I’ll let you know.”

  He eyed her suspiciously. “Why do I think you’re lying?”

  “Because you have trust issues,” she said, and he rolled his eyes. “Things are getting clearer.” That much was true. “Just be patient, okay?”

  “It’s not, and patience isn’t my long suit. But I’ll give you some space, not much, but a little, and when you have a breakthrough or whatever it is, you’d better talk to me.”

  “Scout’s honor,” she promised, cringing a little at the lie. She would tell him. Soon. But she wasn’t sure when. Or how. There were things in her memory that were fuzzy, some seemed to have disappeared entirely, but day by day, bit by bit, her past was returning. It was just a matter of time.

  “You’d better not be yanking my chain.”

  “Why don’t you forget about me for a minute? There are other things we’ve got to work out.” When he lifted a dark brow, she said, “Let’s start with the transfer of property. When Matt buys you out, what’re you going to do with the rest of your life?”

  “I haven’t decided yet.”

  “Well, you’d better figure it out, and while you’re at it,” she advised, starting for the stairs, “you’d better pencil Jamie Parsons into the equation.”

  Chapter 9

  “So what you’re suggesting,” Jamie said, leveling her gaze across the desk, “is that the firm use all its resources to try to find out everything we can about your sister, pry into her personal life, dig deep, use private investigators, snitches—whatever it takes—to find out who’s the father of her child. And in return, you’ll throw us a bone, a little more business our way. Is that what you want to do?”

  “Absolutely.” Thorne leaned his elbows on the scarred wooden desk. The den was small and had never been intended to house computers, a fax machine, printers, scanners, copiers and a phone with several lines, yet it didn’t seem cluttered—just compact and efficient. Like the man trying to convince Jamie that what he was doing was somehow benign. Thorne wasn’t giving an inch. “The police are too slow. Striker’s frustrated. Randi can’t or won’t remember anything that might help, and I have the feeling we’re running out of time. Whoever wants to harm her won’t wait to strike again.”

  “Isn’t that her business?”

  “I’m just taking care of my sister,” Thorne insisted, his gray eyes steely with determination. “I would never forgive myself if I let her bully me into backing off and something happened to her or the baby. Don’t worry, this isn’t going to be behind her back. I’ll tell her.”

  “That you bargained for her. Offered more business to Jansen, Monteith and Stone if they were able to unearth her deepest secrets? That’s what you’re going to tell her?” Jamie stared at the man in disbelief. “I’m just glad you’re not my brother.”

  “She’ll appreciate it.”

  “I met her. I don’t think so.”

  Thorne’s jaw hardened. “You don’t have to second-guess me, just pass the information along. We’re talking a lot of business to the firm. I’ve already got my eye on two potential developments in this county, one outside of Grand Hope, another on the way to Carver...and that’s just a start. I’ve got drilling rights in Colorado and...” His face fell away as he leaned back in his desk chair and it squeaked. “Just have Chuck give me a call.”

  “I will,” she promised, standing briskly.

  He must have read the censure in her eyes, because his expression was suddenly not set in granite. “I really am looking out for my sister and her son’s best interests. How would any of us feel if we hadn’t done everything possible to ensure their safety and something tragic happened? Not only has someone tried to kill my sister twice, but the baby nearly died in the hospital from complications surrounding his birth. Bacterial meningitis.”

  Lines of worry creased Thorne’s face and Jamie realized that be he right or wrong, he really was doing what he thought best, that he cared. Even if she thought he was going about it all wrong. He hadn’t suggested anything illegal.

  “I’ll talk to Chuck,” she promised, leaving the small office. What the devil was she getting herself into? The McCafferty brothers were all hardheaded and extremely protective when it came to their sister.

  You’re not getting yourself into anything. This is just business. Try to remember that.

  But it seemed impossible. Especially with Slade. The other brothers were handsome, intriguing men, but even if they were both single, she could have resisted their charms. Not so with the youngest brother, even though he’d nearly destroyed her once before. Well, never again, she thought, squaring her shoulders as she walked to the front of the house.

  Slade was waiting for her.

  Leaning against a post near the stairs, arms crossed over his chest, amused smile curving his lips, as if he knew her recent thoughts and was hell-bent to prove her wrong.

  “Have fun with Thorne?” he drawled.

  “It was business.”

  “Business is his fun.”

  She arched a brow. “Is it?”

  “Well, it was. For years, it was all he talked about. Hooking up with Nicole mellowed him out.”

  “I don’t know if I’d call him ‘mellow.’”

  “Yeah, well, you should’ve seen him before. So.” He straightened and hitched his chin toward the door. “Ready?”

  “For what?”

  Before he could answer, tiny feet pounded, and the twins raced down the hall. One wore a pink snowsuit, the other was dressed in yellow. Both wore boots and mittens. Eager, rosy faces turned upward in anticipation.

  “Can we go now?” one cherub asked. She was jumping up and down, unable to contain an iota of her excitement, while the other one was all shy smiles that she cast up at her uncle.

  “I think so,” Slade said, winking at the girls. “I was just trying to talk Ms. Parsons into joining us.”

  Two sets of bright eyes focused on Jamie.

  “Hurry!” the liveliest twin—was it Molly?—ordered as if she were a little drill sergeant. “We gots to go. Now!”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I don’t have a snowsuit like you girls and—”

  “And you’ll be fine,” Slade insisted, opening the door.

  Crisp winter air slid inside. Snow was falling in lazy flakes and a tall chestnut-colored horse stood in the drive, harnessed to what had once been a sleek red sleigh. “It’ll be fun,” Slade insisted.

  Fun? With Slade McCafferty?

  Jamie didn’t think so.

  The horse shook his great head and bells attached to his harness jingled in the snowfall.

  “Oo-oh!” one little girl cried, placing her hands over her cheeks. The other one was out of the door like a rocket, black boots flashing against the white snow.

  “Come on, Counselor,” he insisted, touching her arm. “What would it hurt?”

  She thought of her heart, once so bitterly wounded by this man, considered her pride, how it had been battered, her self-esteem that had been pounded into nearly nothing. It had taken her years to get over the ache, and now...now she should risk it all again? “I’ll let you drive.” His blue eyes flashed with a dare and a crooked smile slashed across a square jaw dark with beard shadow.

  She couldn’t resist. “All right, McCafferty, you’re on,” s
he agreed. “But only if I can use the whip on you if you get out of line.”

  The smile stretched wider. “It’s a deal. I’ll try to be on my worst behavior.”

  He took her hand, and with the shy twin following, they walked briskly down the broken snow path to the sleigh. The impetuous twin was trying and failing to climb into the old sleigh. “Here ya go, pumpkin,” Slade said, hoisting her into the backseat where thick coverlets had been tucked around the cold leather.

  “What’s in here?” Molly asked, pointing to an insulated pack as Slade plopped her sister next to her.

  “Hot chocolate and cookies for after we cut the tree.”

  “But I’m thirsty now.”

  “Then you’ll have to wait to cut the tree.”

  “No!”

  “Patience is a virtue, Molly,” Slade said as he helped Jamie climb into the front seat, then swung into the rig and settled next to her. With a wink at Jamie, he cracked the whip over the horse’s head and the chestnut stepped forward. The sleigh slid easily over the thick snow and through the gates Slade had already opened. Both girls giggled from the back.

  “I hadn’t planned on this,” Jamie said.

  “I know.” He slid a glance her way, taking in her wool slacks, sweater and overcoat. She wore boots, but they weren’t meant for trudging through the snow, nor were her gloves insulated. He placed an arm around her shoulders and, breath fogging in the air, whispered, “Trust me, darlin’. I won’t let you freeze.” Her breath caught in her lungs for a second, then she looked away, refusing to be seduced by the kind gesture or the care in his voice.

  “Here, you drive for a while.” He placed the reins in her gloved fingers, then reached beneath the seat and pulled out a sheepskin blanket. As the bells jingled and the sled skimmed across the snow, Slade unfolded the short blanket and tucked it over her lap. As if he cared. Her heart twisted.

  He used me, she reminded herself, the old pain returning as she thought of the baby she’d lost, the child she’d mourned alone.