Harlequin Romantic Suspense March 2016 Box Set Page 7

  She’d only experienced that kind of connection one other time in her life, and that had led to horrible consequences that she’d never imagined could happen.

  She had told Dusty the truth when she’d said he scared her just a little bit. It wasn’t the man who threatened her, but rather the white-hot desire they shared, a desire that could easily cloud good judgment.

  Once she was showered and dressed for the day in her jeans and the café’s red T-shirt, she left the bathroom and made a half pot of coffee.

  Something evil had walked the Holiday ranch. Wasn’t that what Juanita had said to her? It has nothing to do with you, she told herself. But could it possibly have something to do with Dusty?

  It was hard to believe that the thoughtful, patient man with his warm smiles and deep dimples could have anything to do with mayhem and murder. But she knew better than anyone that physical attractiveness could hide a cold, black heart and that a warm, charming smile could mask a killing jealous rage.

  She only wished now that she had paid more attention to any gossip that had occasionally swirled around the café about the men who worked on that particular ranch.

  Proceed with caution, she told herself. That was really all that she could do. She had to be smarter than she’d been in her past. She couldn’t let her attraction to Dusty blind her to any negative qualities that he might possess.

  Still, she couldn’t help the way her heart lifted when he knocked on the door at eleven to go with her to look at the two houses for rent.

  “Dusty!” Cooper greeted him with a hug around his waist.

  “Hey, little man.” Dusty ruffled the mop of Cooper’s hair and smiled at both Trisha and Juanita, who had come in early so that Trisha could check out the rental properties.

  “You want to play a game with me and Juanita?” Cooper asked and ran back to where Juanita sat at the kitchen table with a game board open in front of her. “It’s about candy and it’s lots and lots of fun.”

  “Maybe another time,” Dusty replied. “And hello, Juanita, it’s nice to see you again.”

  “And you,” the older woman replied with a pleasant smile.

  “Remember that I told you that Dusty and I are going to see if we can find a home where we can live,” Trisha said to her son.

  “And I’ll have my own room like a big boy,” Cooper said.

  “That’s right.” Trisha walked over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Now, you be a good boy for Juanita and I’ll see you first thing in the morning when you wake up.”

  “Why don’t I follow you to the café and you can park your car there and ride with me to see the houses?” Dusty suggested once they stepped out of the motel room and into the brilliant sunshine.

  “Okay, if you don’t mind,” she agreed.

  His dimples danced with his smile. “Mind? Why would I mind spending every minute of the day that I can with you?”

  Oh, yes, the man was definitely dangerous, she thought minutes later as she pulled into the staff parking area in the back of the café.

  Clad in a navy blue short-sleeved button-up shirt and his tight jeans, he was as handsome as ever. Even if he grew old and paunchy, he’d still have that incredible smile that warmed her from her head to the tips of her toes.

  “All set?” he asked while she got into his truck and fastened her seat belt.

  “Ready,” she replied.

  “Just point me in the right direction.”

  She gave him the first address, and he pulled out of the café parking lot.

  “How are you doing this morning after the debacle of yesterday evening?” he asked.

  “All right, although I dreamed about skulls and headless skeletons chasing after me last night,” she said truthfully.

  He winced. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Definitely not your fault,” she replied. She stared out of the passenger window for a moment. A whisper of uncertainty swept through her as she thought of the crime scene on the ranch.

  She turned back to look at him. “I don’t think you’ve told me yet how you came to work on the Holiday ranch and when you first started working there.”

  He flashed her a quick glance, and then to her surprise he turned off onto a side street and pulled over to park at the curb. He shut off the engine, unfastened his seat belt and then turned to fully face her.

  “Why are you asking me about it now?” His eyes grew darker in hue. “Why do you want to know exactly when I first started working there?”

  “I was just curious,” she replied.

  He stared at her for a long moment. “What’s really going on, Trisha? Is this about the skull? Tell me the truth—does this have something to do with the murders?”

  A flush warmed her cheeks. She didn’t even know how to answer him. “I said I was just curious, that’s all,” she finally replied.

  He looked at her knowingly and then released a deep sigh. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. I suppose everyone is speculating on which one of us on the Holiday place might be a potential murderer.”

  “I didn’t mean to imply anything,” she protested, already regretting the abrupt questions she’d asked.

  He stared out of the front window and then turned to face her once again. “I lied to you when I told you that my parents are dead,” he said flatly.

  He’d lied? Imaginary red flags waved in her head. Why on earth would he lie about such a thing? You’re a hypocrite, a little voice whispered. You haven’t told him the truth about everything in your life. Just shut up and listen to what he has to say without judging.

  “The truth is I really don’t know if my parents are dead or alive. I ran away from home when I was thirteen years old and I never looked back. I didn’t want to go into it all this early in our relationship, because I wanted you to know the man I am, not the boy I once was.”

  “But I want to know everything about you, Dusty.” She wanted...needed to know everything about him. Her feelings for him had grown remarkably fast and she had to somehow know if he was just a heartache waiting to happen.

  “What did you do after you left home?” she asked, aware that she’d apparently unintentionally opened a can of worms.

  “I hit the streets.” His eyes were still darker than she’d ever seen them and a knot of tension began to pulse in his jawline. “I probably would have been killed if it wasn’t for Forest Stevens. I was a scrawny kid afraid of my own shadow...perfect prey for the bigger, meaner kids on the streets. But Forest took me under his wing, and nobody messed with Forest.”

  “How on earth did you survive?” she asked. She couldn’t imagine Cooper out on the streets at thirteen years old or any other age.

  “We slept with one eye open under bridges and in alleys. We stood on street corners and begged for money, and we stole food when we had to.” He grimaced. “It’s not anything I’m proud of, but we were in survival mode.”

  Once again he cast his gaze out the front window. “I had just turned fourteen when Francine Rogers, a social worker who worked with the homeless teens, offered the two of us the opportunity to go to a ranch and work for a woman named Cass Holiday. Forest and I jumped at the chance to make something of ourselves. When we arrived there were ten other teens already working for Cass, the same men who have always worked for her.”

  This time when he looked at her, his eyes simmered with a stark intensity. “I don’t know anything about the young men whose skeletons were found in that pit. I never saw anyone on the ranch other than the men I grew up with. Besides, I’m not a killer.” He raised his chin defensively to punctuate his words.

  She had no real reason to believe him, but she did. Was it her heart overruling her head? Needing him to be the kind of man she wanted? She didn’t think so. She had a feeling her doubts about him had been prompted by the skull and the horri
fying nightmares that had plagued her sleep.

  “Why did you run away from home in the first place?” she asked curiously.

  “Because my old man beat me every day of my life and my mother not only allowed it, but encouraged it.” The pulse in his jaw ticked faster. “I figured I’d rather die at the hands of strangers on the street than be killed by the people who were supposed to love me.”

  For a brief moment she saw a flash of a wounded child in the haunted depths of his eyes. “Dusty, I’m so sorry.” She couldn’t help herself; she reached out and placed her hand on his shoulder.

  He shrugged. “It’s just a part of my past. Cass taught me a long time ago that I couldn’t let it define me.”

  She pulled her hand back into her lap. “She must have been a good woman.”

  “She was the very best.” He raked a hand through his hair. “Trisha, I have no way to prove to you that I had nothing to do with those murders that happened so long ago. The only defense I have is the truth, and the absolute truth of the matter is that I don’t know what happened to those teens.” He released a sigh. “I wish to God I did know. Now, do you still want me to take you to see those houses or should I take you back to the café?”

  She offered him a small smile and consciously released any doubts that might have momentarily plagued her where he was concerned. “I absolutely want you to take me to see the houses.”

  “All right, then,” he said, sounding relieved. He straightened in his seat, refastened his seat belt and started his truck. As he pulled away from the curb Trisha wondered when—or if—she could ever be completely honest with him about her own past.

  * * *

  Dusty walked around the back of the small two-story house to check out the state of the yard and the air conditioner. Trisha was inside with Damon Wilkins, the owner of the property.

  He strode through the dried grass and fought against a wave of odd vulnerability that had risen up inside him at Trisha’s questions and the brief visit to his past.

  The moment she’d asked him about how he’d come to be on the ranch, he’d known that what she really wanted to know was if he might be responsible for the murders.

  Her doubts about him had been the second blow he’d received that day. The first had come at breakfast, when the men had been unusually quiet and the mood somber.

  It had been uncharacteristic, and Dusty worried that the suspicions and doubts Tony had voiced the night before had been contagious. Apparently, the discovery of the skull and Dillon’s new questions had stirred up a negativity that had never existed before among the cowboys.

  He couldn’t do anything about it, just like he couldn’t do anything if Trisha decided she didn’t want to spend any more time with him after this morning. If she really believed he might be the murderer, or even questioned his innocence, then he wouldn’t expect her to want to be around him anymore. She was a single mother with a young son and she had to look to her own safety and welfare.

  He had absolutely nothing to combat any doubts she might have about him except the truth. And the truth was that he couldn’t prove to her in any concrete way that he hadn’t murdered those boys.

  He shoved away these thoughts and instead focused on the matter at hand. The house’s air conditioner was clean and appeared relatively new.

  He was far less impressed with the yard. There wasn’t a single tree for a boy to climb, and a piece of plywood on the ground covered what looked like an old, dry well. Definitely not a Cooper-friendly environment as far as Dusty was concerned.

  He headed back around the side of the house and found Trisha and Damon standing on the small front porch. “I appreciate you taking the time to show us around,” she said to the bald-headed older man. “I’ll give you a call sometime this evening to let you know what I’ve decided.”

  “That will be fine,” Damon replied.

  She turned and smiled at Dusty. “Ready?”

  “Whenever you are,” he replied. “I have a feeling that it is a no,” he said once they were back in his truck.

  She frowned thoughtfully. “It was okay, I suppose. It just didn’t scream forever home to me. I don’t know, maybe I’m expecting too much for the amount of rent I’m able to pay.”

  “It was a no as far as I’m concerned.” He told her about his issues with the backyard. “It just wasn’t right for a little boy. Maybe you’ll like the second one better.”

  The next house was an old two-story that needed lots of work inside and out. Peeling paint and a kitchen that Dusty suspected hadn’t been updated since the house was originally built made it an instant hell—no as far as he was concerned.

  It all shouted of potential headaches, and no matter what happened between the two of them in the future, that was the last thing he wanted for her and Cooper.

  Her discouragement was evident when they were back in his truck and headed toward the café. “Trisha, you’ve only just started your house hunting. I’m sure you’ll eventually find the right one. You just have to be a little patient.”

  She flashed one of her beautiful smiles. “You’re right. I’m just eager to get out of that motel room and into a place Cooper and I can really call home. He deserves something better.”

  “And you’ll find it,” he assured her.

  “What about you? Do you ever think about owning your own place?”

  “I’ve always considered the Holiday ranch my home, but that doesn’t mean if the right circumstances presented themselves I wouldn’t make a move.” He pulled into a parking space at the back of the café. “There’s never really been a reason for me to consider moving out and moving on.”

  She and Cooper could potentially be his reason, but it was far too soon to tell. He didn’t even know what the next few minutes with her might bring after the difficult conversation they’d had earlier.

  He opened the windows, shut off the truck engine and then turned to look at her. “I don’t know what happens next. I want to see you again, Trisha. I want to spend more time with you and your son, but I understand if you don’t want to see me anymore.”

  “Dusty, why wouldn’t I want to see you again?”

  “You obviously had some doubts about me,” he replied.

  Her cheeks flushed a faint pink. “It was the skull and a night of bad dreams. Besides, I can’t apologize for being cautious. I like you, Dusty. I like you a lot, and I really don’t believe you have a killer bone in your body.”

  A rush of relief filled him at her words. He hadn’t realized until this moment that he’d needed to hear that from her. “For the first thirteen years of my life, I only knew brutality. On the night that I went out my bedroom window, I swore I wouldn’t be anything like my father, that I’d be a different, a far better kind of a man.”

  “Do you like Mexican food?”

  He blinked. The question had come completely out of left field. “I love it,” he replied. “Why?”

  “I make great enchiladas, and I’m thinking maybe we could plan a private dinner for two Wednesday night at the café, since it closes up early that night.”

  His heart warmed. “You mean to tell me that you not only deliver food to tables and booths, but you also can cook, as well?”

  She smiled. “I love to cook, but unfortunately it’s difficult to really get into it at the motel with the limited kitchenette and cookware. Let me talk to Daisy and see if it works out, and I’ll call you some time tomorrow to finalize the plans.”

  “I look forward to it,” he replied.

  Minutes later as he was headed back to the ranch, he felt as if they’d taken a huge step forward. He’d been afraid to tell her about his past, but it hadn’t seemed to faze her.

  She didn’t seem to care that he’d been a kid his parents hadn’t cared about except to abuse on a regular basis. Neither of them had even
cared enough to go looking for him when he’d finally gotten up the nerve to run away.

  Wait until your father gets home.

  Just wait until I tell him what a bad boy you are.

  He shook the memory of his mother’s strident voice out of his head. He’d blamed her even more than his father for the abuse. His father had delivered the actual blows, but his mother had directed the action.

  There was no question that part of his attraction to Trisha was the kind of mother she was to Cooper. He knew without question that she would always put her son’s welfare above all else, and that’s what a good mother should do.

  He also believed that he’d helped quell any doubts she might have entertained about him being a murderer. He couldn’t fault her for entertaining some doubts, for being careful about who she was inviting into her life. She didn’t have just herself to think about, but she also had to worry about her son.

  He hoped like hell that Dillon Bowie could solve the crime sooner rather than later. Dusty had a feeling that the longer it lingered, the worse things might get for the men on the ranch.

  The afternoon passed as most of them did, with chores that needed to be done before nightfall and then dinner served by Cookie in the cowboy dining room. It was dusk when Dusty got back on his horse, Juniper, to make a final ride through the cattle herd. The night had cooled a little and stars had begun to twinkle overhead.

  Would he leave this land to start a new life someplace else? For the first time ever, he knew that he would in a hot minute if it were with his soul mate, his lady love forever.

  Happiness and love, it was what Cass would have wanted for all of the boys she’d raised into men. As always, thoughts of the older woman, now gone, created a small well of grief in him. Funny, that he would grieve over a woman who wasn’t his flesh and blood but had never grieved over the parents he’d left behind.

  As he approached the herd, he spied the silhouette of another cowboy on a horse. Despite the relative darkness, he recognized the other rider as Brody, one of the men Tony had mentioned to him in their intimate conversation the night before.