Just Married

  Lesley didn’t know what had caused her to blurt out the question, but now that she had, she waited, wondering if she should continue this game of words. Carl seemed to think she knew something, when she didn’t.

  “Did he tell you when he’s going?” Carl probed her for information.

  “No.” Lesley closed her eyes. Zane was leaving again? He hadn’t said a word to her, hadn’t so much as hinted.

  “Soon, I imagine,” Carl mumbled. “I’m sorry, Lesley. Nothing I’ve said changed his mind.” This last part was filled with a baffled kind of anger.

  “It’s insane.” She repeated what he’d said earlier, hoping that would encourage the other man to supply the details.

  “More than that. It’s suicide.”

  Lesley caught her breath. “Suicide?”

  “Zane’s no match for Schuyler, not physically. Not anymore. Now that Schuyler knows he’s alive and coming. Zane’s lost his one advantage. Don’t think Schuyler isn’t lying in wait for him. The killer will take a good deal of pleasure in finishing the job he started. He’s going to kill Zane the same way he killed Dan and Dave.”

  The glass of ice tea slipped from her numb fingers and toppled onto the thick grass. The breath seemed frozen in her lungs.

  “Why is he going?” From some hidden resource she found the serenity to keep her voice calm and even as she bent to retrieve the glass.

  “I can’t answer that. I thought he’d come to his senses when he married you.” Carl paced the area in front of her, his short steps revealing his agitation. “I’ve tried to talk some sense into him. I tried to reason with him, but he made a vow and he won’t go back on that—not for anything.”

  “What about his vow to me?”

  Carl hesitated and looked to her. The intensity of his gaze wavered before he glanced away. “He loves you. He never counted on that…but then, I made the same mistake with Candy.” The first part of his words were brusque, the latter filled with an indescribable thread of pain.

  Lesley placed her hand protectively against her stomach. “I’m pregnant.”

  Carl looked stricken. “You, too?”

  “Too?”

  He removed his hat and splayed his fingers through his hair. “Never mind.”

  “What about the baby? What about me?” she asked, unable to disguise the swelling panic. Zane was going to leave her A suicide mission?

  “I can’t answer that either,” Carl told her wearily, and she felt his frustration as keenly as her own. “He’s going after Schuyler and worse, Zane fully intends to die.”

  “No,” she cried, unable to stop herself. She rushed toward the house, fury and panic fueling her steps as she raced across the yard.

  Lesley barreled into the kitchen and Mrs. Applegate whirled around. “My heavens, child, what’s wrong?”

  “Where’s Zane? I need to talk to Zane.”

  “He’s gone, remember?” The housekeeper’s words were gentle, concerned.

  Lesley knew her eyes were wild as she grabbed hold of Mrs. Applegate’s shoulders. “Where is he? I need him. I have to talk to him…have to convince him to stay.”

  “Come sit down,” the older woman said in soothing tones, and led Lesley into the library. “Sit down and relax, otherwise you’ll hurt the baby. I’ll get Mr. Zane for you, now don’t you fret. He’ll be home in a jiffy. I’ll bring you in a pot of herbal tea and everything will be fine in a few moments.”

  Lesley was convinced that nothing would ever be fine again. She was sobbing uncontrollably now, her shoulders rocking back and forth in an effort to put some measure of order to her thoughts. Nothing made sense. Nothing added up.

  Zane had married her, given her his child and now he intended to leave her for a suicide mission. He intended to leave her, to go off somewhere and die.

  She didn’t know how long she sat there staring into space, fighting a pain so deep, she couldn’t think, couldn’t move, couldn’t feel. A shocking numbness attacked her senses.

  “Thank heavens you’re home. It’s Lesley. Something’s terribly wrong.” Lesley heard Mrs. Applegate’s voice but it seemed to come from a great distance through the fog of pain.

  “What happened?”

  Could that urgent voice belong to Zane?

  “I don’t know. She came flying into the kitchen, screaming for you.”

  “The baby? Is something wrong with the baby?” Again this was from Zane, and panic echoed with each word.

  “No, no,” the housekeeper assured him. “She was crying out for you.”

  Lesley remained frozen, unable to move. The mahogany doors glided open and Zane entered the library.

  “Lesley?” He said her name softly and knelt down in front of her.

  Her hands were tightly clasped together and she kept her head lowered, refusing to make eye contact.

  “What’s upset you so much?”

  The searing pain in her heart felt as though she’d been branded with a white-hot iron. Slowly, pride and anger dictating her actions, she lifted her head. Her eyes clashed against his. Fury and outrage bounced against gentle concern.

  “Who’s Schuyler?” she demanded in words as cold as an Arctic wind.

  Zane stiffened. “Who told you?”

  “Who’s Schuyler?” she asked again, louder.

  Her husband stood, his movement awkward because of his leg.

  “I have a right to know.”

  “Yes,” he agreed readily. “You have every right.” He sat down on the ottoman and leaned forward, pressing his elbows against his knees. He didn’t speak and Lesley was fast losing patience.

  “What about the letter?”

  “It was from a friend. He told me he suspected Schuyler knew I’d survived the explosion. I had to find out if that was true, because it took away any options I had. Now that he knows I’m alive, there’s no guarantee he won’t come after me. I can’t risk putting you and the baby in jeopardy.”

  “You can’t fight. Not any longer…not with your injuries.”

  “Perhaps, but don’t be so quick to think I want to die. I’ve never had more of a reason to live. Please understand, I wouldn’t leave you if it wasn’t necessary.”

  “Can’t you hire someone else?”

  “No,” he answered emphatically. “I refuse to bring anyone else into this. What happened is between Schuyler and me. I already carry the guilt for the loss of two good men, more family to me than any I’d had until meeting you. I won’t take on the responsibility for more blood spilled.”

  “Dan and David?”

  He seemed surprised that she knew their names. “Yes.” He reached for her clenched fist, swallowing her hands with his own. “They were like brothers to me. We’d been together nearly twenty years.” His eyes hardened. “Schuyler murdered them in cold blood right before my eyes. He thought he’d killed me, too, and he nearly had.” His fingers tentatively went to his face, touching the reddened scar. “I wanted to remember what he’d done to my friends. That’s the reason I never bothered with any cosmetic surgery.”

  “What about Carl? Can’t he help you…can’t he go with you now?” she cried, taking another tactic.

  “I go alone.”

  Lesley hung her head, unable to assimilate all that he was telling her. She couldn’t get past the feeling that she’d already lost him. It struck her then that she’d never really had him to lose.

  “Schuyler is a terrorist, Lesley. He preys on the innocent, takes delight in murder. He often works alone, and that makes him all the more difficult to locate, but word came yesterday that he was hiding in Egypt. I’m going after him now. That’s where I was earlier, making my travel arrangements.”

  “No,” she cried, and because she couldn’t bear to let him go, she threw her arms around his neck and clung.

  Zane’s hold on her was tight, his breathing shallow. “I never meant to love you.”

  The words were bittersweet. “Why’d you marry me? Why?”

  He hesitated.

&n
bsp; “By your own words, you never intended to fall in love with me.”

  “I wanted a child.”

  Too stunned to speak, Lesley closed her eyes in an effort to take it all in. “A baby?”

  He didn’t respond. It took her far longer than it should have to realize what he was saying. He believed he was about to die and it was important that he have an heir. She was little more than the means to the end. This was what he’d meant when he claimed he’d never meant to love her.

  “You used me.” Outrage and fury demanded that she stand, although she wasn’t sure her weak knees would keep her upright. “You wanted a child and I was little more than a womb…a means of achieving an end. Why didn’t you donate to a sperm bank?”

  “Please, Lesley, listen.”

  “I’ve heard all I care to.” She stormed out of the library, climbed the stairs and collapsed on their bed.

  Zane gave her a few minutes and then followed. He stood in the doorway to their bedroom. “I don’t blame you for being angry. You deserve a far better husband than I’d ever be.”

  Although she knew it was childish, she covered her head with a pillow and refused to listen.

  “I don’t have time to pander to your anger,” he said harshly. “If you hate me, all the better.”

  She slowly sat upright and glared at him. “I despise you.”

  He didn’t flinch. “I don’t blame you. But listen, there are some things you need to know. You have the rest of your life to hate me.”

  He entered the bedroom, then stopped abruptly. “I went to see an attorney this afternoon.”

  “An attorney?”

  “Everything I have is yours and the baby’s.”

  “I don’t want anything of yours,” she spat out.

  “Fine. Leave it for the child.”

  Lesley closed her eyes. He was going to do it. He was actually going to leave her.

  “I stopped off and talked to Carl. He’s promised to do whatever he can to help you and the baby. He might be a bit rough around the edges, but he’s a good man. I wouldn’t trust you and the baby’s care to anyone else.”

  “No!” she cried in protest, but Zane ignored her.

  “One last thing.”

  Not only was Zane leaving her, but he seemed determined to go right that minute. “You have every right to hate me. I hate myself for involving you in this craziness. You do deserve a husband who’s a better man than I’ll ever be.”

  She wanted to plead with him to stay, but knew it would make no difference. She stiffened her shoulders and glared at him, refusing to give him permission to hurt her further.

  “After the baby’s born,” he said in a voice she barely recognized as his own, “tell him or her…tell the baby how much I loved their mother.”

  Even now he hadn’t the courage to say it to her face. He didn’t have the courage to look her in the eye and tell her he cared, as if doing so would weaken him.

  “Is that all you have to say?” she asked coldly.

  “Yes.” He started to turn away and she climbed off the mattress.

  “I’d like to add one thing.”

  Zane turned back. She walked over and stood directly in front of him, her chest heaving. Her eyes filled with tears as she struggled to hold in the emotion. His features blurred until he was unrecognizable.

  Then, with all the strength she possessed, she raised her hand and slapped him across the face.

  The pain in his chest felt like a tight knot. Zane loaded his gear into the back of the pickup and resisted the urge to glance toward the house. It wasn’t the way he wanted to tell Lesley goodbye, but perhaps this was best after all. It would be easier to adjust to his death if she hated him. God knew he’d given her enough reason to do exactly that.

  He’d made few tactical errors in life as big as this. Only a selfish bastard would abuse Lesley. She offered him paradise and in return he was giving her hell.

  He recalled when he first introduced the subject of marriage, how he’d mentioned that their union would be monetarily beneficial to her. Lesley had thrown the mention of money back in his face, yet it was all he had to leave her. That and her hate.

  Regrets multiplied a hundredfold. He’d been unfair and cruel to the one person who meant the most to him. All he could do was pray that someday she’d find it in her heart to forgive him.

  When he couldn’t bear to not look any longer, he glanced toward the house. Toward Lesley. Toward the child he would never know.

  Pain clenched at his heart with regret so deep, he couldn’t breathe. He was leaving behind everything he would ever love. That had been Lesley’s greatest gift to him.

  Love.

  He’d found it in her arms. And now he was voluntarily walking away from the only happiness he’d ever known.

  He had to leave while he still could. He had to get away. Had to kill Schuyler if he ever intended to have peace. Doing away with the terrorist was the only way out. It was either Schuyler or him, and all the odds were with the other man.

  Zane opened the truck door and was ready to climb into the cab when Lesley appeared on the porch. She walked over to the white column and leaned against it as though needing its support.

  He hesitated, his hand on the steering wheel.

  Neither moved.

  Then, with a sob, his wife rushed down the stairs and raced across the yard.

  Zane caught her around the waist and hauled her into his arms. His body absorbed her sobs. He closed his eyes and clung to her.

  “Kill the son of a bitch,” she whispered.

  “I will,” he promised.

  “Then come home to me.”

  His throat constricted. As much as he wanted to Zane couldn’t make that promise.

  Carl felt he was probably making another one of those colossal mistakes that had marked his relationship with Candy Hoffman from the moment they’d met. But he had nowhere else to turn.

  He parked outside her house and sat in the pickup. Her house was dark, but then, what did he expect at four o’clock in the morning?

  Given a choice, he would have opted for someone else, but the only other woman he knew and trusted was Martha Applegate, and he didn’t think she’d be up to the task. There was no help for it. He needed to do this himself.

  With a sigh of resignation, he climbed out of the cab and approached the house. It’d been five weeks since he’d last seen her. She seemed to be avoiding him with the same fervor.

  Five long, torturous weeks. He wasn’t fool enough to admit he hadn’t missed her. Thoughts of her consumed him. He worried about her and the baby, but there wasn’t a thing he could do. She’d rejected him, rejected his proposal.

  The temptation to turn around and leave was strong. Before he could entertain the notion further, he leaned against the doorbell and waited.

  Every likelihood existed that Candy was involved with someone else by now. He tried not to think about that possibility, but he wasn’t fool enough not to recognize that she was an attractive woman. Since she’d started dressing like a woman, other men were bound to notice her.

  He pressed the doorbell a second time, and silently counted to ten before he released the button.

  His heart was heavy, and contacting Candy like this did little to lighten his load.

  The porch light went on and he blinked against the sudden brightness.

  “What do you want?” Candy shouted through the closed door.

  “I need you,” he shouted gruffly.

  “I’m sure one of your female friends from the Watering Hole would serve just as well.”

  So she’d been keeping tabs on him. A hint of a smile touched his lips. He’d been so busy working on his place that he rarely went out these days. In the past five weeks, he’d probably drank two beers at the local tavern. A couple of friendly women had let it be known that they wouldn’t be opposed to a little fun. The sad part of it all was that neither one had tempted him. There’d been a time when Carl would have gladly partaken of t
heir offer. He suspected Candy was to blame for that, as well. Another reason on the growing list of why he shouldn’t have come to her now.

  “I need your help,” he amended. “Just open the door, would you?” He swore under his breath. Patience had never been his strongest trait, and dealing with the most obstinate woman in a three-state radius wasn’t helping him any.

  “My help?” She opened the door, and stood on the other side of the locked screen door.

  Carl thought he was prepared for this but he was wrong. Dead wrong. She was so pretty with her hair all mussed, and her robe tightly cinched at her waist. He couldn’t see any evidence of the baby yet.

  He’d missed her. He hadn’t realized how much until this moment. The temptation to pull her into his arms was so strong that he nearly crushed his hat between his hands.

  “It’s four in the morning,” she chastised, regarding him warily.

  “I know,” he returned gruffly. “This couldn’t wait.”

  “What is it?”

  “I need you to come with me when I talk to Lesley Ackerman.”

  “Zane’s wife?”

  He nodded. “She’s going to need a woman. I’m not going to be much help.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  He resisted the urge to wipe a hand down his face. When he spoke, the words came hard, working their way up his parched throat. “I just got word. Zane’s dead. I need you to help me tell his wife.”

  Chapter Twelve

  LESLEY KNEW THE PRECISE moment Zane had died. She woke from a deep sleep and an incredible sadness settled over her. Sitting up in bed, she stared into the thick darkness as the realization her husband was dead assaulted her. She wasn’t sure how she knew. She just knew.

  The grief made her feel as though she were drowning. Her lungs couldn’t get enough oxygen. Her broken heart ached. The flood of pain was more than she could bear. Cradling her abdomen to protect her child, she moaned and rocked and softly wept.

  In retrospect she was certain what happened next must have been her imagination. It was an emotional means of dealing with such intense pain, she supposed. Perhaps it was all wishful thinking. She had no name to give it so she accepted it as a gift. A rare and precious gift.