Loaded Page 11

  "I didn't mean to give you the third degree."

  "It's okay. I like things out in the open. I told you, I'm an uncomplicated kind of guy."

  "What are you having?" She neatly changed the subject.

  "Vodka and tonic."

  "I'll have that, too. Easy on the vodka."

  "Afraid I'll get you drunk and have my way with you?"

  "That might complicate your life."

  "It just might."

  When the drinks were ready, they returned to the den, with its floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out on the pond and the forested area to the right. Raindrops danced on the windows intermingling with late afternoon shadows. Shelly settled in the upholstered chair nearest the window and pulled her bare feet into the chair with her, tucking them under the robe.

  Matt took the sofa. "What made you become a physical therapist?"

  Answers to any questions about her background had all been scripted and rehearsed. They were nothing near the truth. Oddly, she'd like to speak honestly with Matt. But she couldn't tell him about how she'd been perfectly happy as a physical therapist until 9/11 had made her rethink her career goals. She'd watched the towers fall on television and knew then that she had to do something more for her country. The CIA had been her choice.

  Instead, she went to the memorized script. 'The mother of one of my best high school friends was a physical therapist. She loved her work and just hearing her talk about it made me want to give it a try. And it got my dad off my case to become an attorney like him. After reading John Grisham's books, I knew I didn't want to be a lawyer. Too many slimy clients."

  "I can understand that. Do your parents live in Atlanta?"

  "They did. Dad retired last year and they moved to Florida. They live on what I only half-jokingly refer to as reservation for retired people. They call it paradise."

  "I plan to retire right here. Well, actually I don't plan to retire at all. Hopefully, I'll stay busy until they bury me beneath Jack's Bluff earth." He swirled his drink in the glass. "Most people spend a lifetime looking for their niche. I was born into mine."

  "Seems all you're missing is someone special to share it with." A stupid thing to say, especially when she knew that life as he knew it was likely to disintegrate in days—maybe hours. Yet she found herself waiting for his reply, as if it mattered more than anything she could have asked.

  "If I found the right person, I'd marry her in a heartbeat."

  "But you haven't found her yet?" The husky vibration in her voice gave too much away. Echoed the emotions riding much too close to the surface, emotions she shouldn't be having.

  "I didn't say that. I'm not sure how I'd know, unless the woman I was attracted to reciprocated a little. Maybe by not turning away every time the heat and passion started to build between us."

  His attraction for her was on the table now, heady, more intoxicating than the drink. A hunger shot threw her, raw and so fervent it hurt. She ached to cross the room and fit herself into his arms. Longed to feel her body pressed against his, to hear his heart beating in time with hers.

  Instead, she struggled with a response.

  She was so lost in the moment that she didn't hear the approaching car until she saw Matt's gaze dart to the window. She followed suit in time to see Sheriff Guerra step out of his squad car.

  Matt opened the door while the sheriff was still stamping up the steps. "What brings you out in the rain?"

  "I was looking for Shelly Lane. She wasn't at the big house, so I thought I'd try your place."

  "Lucky guess." Matt tilted his head in her direction.

  A knowing smile crossed the sheriff's face as he looked from her to Matt and back to her again.

  "We were horseback riding and got caught in the rain," Matt said. "Shelly's clothes are in the dryer."

  His smile widened. "Darn rain can sure mess up a good afternoon."

  Matt ignored the comment. "Do you have news for Shelly?"

  "Yep. A couple of state troopers found Frankie Dawson this morning up near Lufkin."

  Her shooter. Shelly stood and tried in vain to smooth the bunched fabric. "Did they make an arrest?"

  "Little late for that. He was slouched over the steering wheel of a stolen sedan with two bullets in his brain. Likely never lived long enough to know what hit him."

  "A gang-related hit?"

  "More'n likely. Violence begets violence. The rule of the streets. But I guess we can close your case. Just thought you'd like to know that you don't have to worry about him anymore."

  "Thanks."

  "Would have been nicer to have answers," Matt said. "We still don't know for certain that Shelly was a random victim."

  "And now you probably never will, but it sure looks that way to me. Guess I'll get back to town. Can I give you a ride back to the house, Shelly, or do you want to wait out the rain?"

  She hesitated. Surprisingly, Matt didn't. He was already buttoning his shirt and he looked all business now. "How about giving both of us a ride to the big house? That way I can pick up my truck. I'll get Jim Bob to trailer the horses back."

  Confusion clouded her mind and chilled her heart. She was falling hard for the protective cowboy. She had to call Brady and tell him she couldn't do this any longer. Time and opportunity were running out.

  * * *

  Billy Mack climbed the steps to the front porch of the Collingsworth house and sauntered over to the swing where Lenora nursed a tall glass of iced tea. "You were awful late getting home tonight."

  Lenora planted her feet and stilled the swing so that her neighbor could sink down beside her. "Were you watching for me?"

  "Yep. Can't have my widow-lady neighbor coming in at all hours. People will talk."

  "Only if you go gossiping to them," she teased. "Besides, it's only ten past seven." Billy Mack had been her neighbor since the day she married Randolph and moved to Jack's Bluff. She and his wife had been best friends, crying and laughing together as they raised their kids.

  Now it was she and Billy Mack who were left. He spent increasingly more time hanging around her ranch, even flirted occasionally. She didn't mind. He was lonesome. But both of them knew her heart would never belong to anyone but Randolph.

  "Did you see a dozen fender benders?" Billy Mack asked.

  "At least. You'd think Houstonites would be used to rain, but the concept of slowing down for wet streets never seems to catch on."

  "Does the rain have you down, Lenora, or is that CIA business still playing havoc with your spirits?"

  "Men are supposed to get less attentive to women's feelings as they grow older. How is it nothing gets past you?"

  "You're not that difficult to read. When you're happy as a hog in a mud hole, you're smiling. When your face is long enough to eat oats out of a butter churn, you got something troublesome on your mind."

  "I am troubled," she admitted. "Mostly for Langston. He's taking the brunt of the CIA investigation when he should be concentrating on nothing but the birth of his son."

  "So they haven't given up with those absurd allegations?"

  "No, and they're beyond absurd. Langston runs a tight ship and he would never do anything traitorous. He's loves his country and he's moral and upright. They should be able to see that, but they don't."

  "Is Melvin still in charge of getting to the bottom of the charges that company money's gone to terrorist leaders?"

  "Yes, and he says all the business dealings have been squeaky clean."

  Billy Mack spread his hands on his thighs, letting his blunt, weathered fingers stretch along the denim of his worn overalls. "Maybe Langston should hire someone outside the company to take on that task."

  "Who would know more about the operations than Melvin? He's Langston's right-hand man."

  "It's just a thought," Billy Mack said. "I know you all think of him as family, but he's not, you know."

  Lenora stopped the swing again, shifting so she could look Billy Mack in the eye. "What's that supposed to mean?"<
br />
  "What I said. He's just not family. That's all."

  "He's almost family. And Langston has hired an outside accounting firm to go over the most minute detail of every money exchange made over the past year. He expects to get that report back soon."

  "Good. I always knew that boy had something in his head besides nits."

  They both looked up as a car came down the side road and turned in the drive. Ed Guerra waved from behind the wheel, but didn't get out. Matt and Shelly did and were joined quickly by two excited black lab puppies.

  Shelly stopped and scooped Chideaux up in her arms. That one belonged to Zach's wife Kali, but was staying with them while Zach and Kali were on their honeymoon. Blackie belonged to David and Derrick and much preferred to run and bark than be held. He was busily circling Matt's heels now.

  "What was the sheriff doing out here?" Lenora asked as Matt and Shelly joined them.

  Matt squatted on the top step and tangled with Blackie while he filled them in on the details about Frankie Dawson's murder.

  "I hate to hear any of this," Lenora said. "It's a sorry welcome to Texas we've given you, Shelly."

  Shelly nuzzled Chideaux beneath her chin. "It wasn't your fault. We have crime in Atlanta, too."

  "I still hate that you were hit with the worst of our great state as soon as you arrived. But I just had an idea. I've coerced Matt into going with me to the black-tie art auction for Children's Hospital Saturday night. Why don't you join us? It will be fun."

  Shelly turned to Matt, but Chideaux had joined Blackie in the game of tussle and Matt kept his attention focused on the dogs.

  "Tell her you want her to join us," Lenora encouraged.

  Matt still didn't look up. "It's up to her."

  Matt's hardheadedness could be annoying at times, and Shelly was such a nice lady.

  "I really don't have anything to wear," Shelly said.

  "You and Jaime are practically the same size, and she has a closet full of formals. I'm sure you could find one you like, and I know she'd be glad for you to borrow a dress."

  "I wouldn't want to impose..."

  "Nonsense. I'll talk to Jaime when she comes in."

  "Which reminds me, I'm supposed to tell you she went to dinner with a friend and will be late," Shelly said.

  "If she's too late tonight, you can pick out a dress tomorrow."

  "Okay, Mrs. Collingsworth, if Jaime doesn't mind and we find one that fits, count me in."

  Still no comment from Matt. Lenora was starting to get tired of throwing perfectly suitable women at him only to have him ignore them. Actually, they probably weren't all perfectly suitable, but she didn't see what he could possibly have against getting to know Shelly better. She was not only pretty, but personable and smart.

  Shelly excused herself and went inside.

  "It wouldn't hurt you to be a bit more attentive when there's a gorgeous woman around, Matt Collingsworth."

  Matt smiled, kissed her on the cheek and took the steps two at a time. "Good night, Cupid, er, Mom."

  "You should listen to me," she called after him.

  "I think you can let up with the matchmaking," Billy Mack said as Matt drove off in his own truck.

  "I just want Matt to be happy and to find someone to share his life with the way his brothers have. You know how important that is, Billy Mack. We lost our loves too soon, but imagine if we'd never had them."

  "Don't even want to try." He reached over and lay his hand on top of hers. "But I'd say Matt's got some powerful heart-bustin' feelings for Shelly bucking around inside him right now."

  "Do you really think so?"

  "Sure as shooting. Open your eyes. You'll see it."

  Lenora let the comment sink it. She wasn't certain Billy Mack was right this time, but he frequently was. And after all, she'd had a good feeling about Matt and Shelly from the first time she'd met the new physical therapist in that hospital room.

  "Don't go cooking up plans," Billy Mack said. "They're adults. They'll take care of things on their own."

  Easy for him to say, but she knew Matt. He'd need a push. Luckily, a plan was already forming in her mind. She couldn't do a thing about the CIA, but this she could manage.

  Chapter Eleven

  Trish squirmed beside Langston in the king-size bed. He reached over and spread his hand on her swollen belly and felt the solid kicks. His son was growing inside the woman he loved.

  He'd heard the word joy used all his life. Now he knew what it meant—a heart so full that it sometimes felt like it might rise like a helium balloon and float to the heavens. His might have done just that were it not for the problems with the CIA weighing it down.

  Trish thrashed in her sleep then jerked and started inching away from him. He watched her in the silver of the moonlight streaming through the window. She was always beautiful—always would be in his eyes—but he literally couldn't keep his eyes off her since she'd become pregnant. He'd missed this with his daughter. He wanted to treasure every second of the beginnings of his son's life.

  "Little fellow keeping you awake?" he asked

  "I think he's playing football with my kidneys." She eased her legs over the side of the bed. "I've got to go to the bathroom again."

  "Can I get you something? Warm milk? Cheese crackers and fudge?"

  "You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

  "Probably not."

  During the first trimester she'd had this unreasonable craving for cheese crackers and fudge. The first time it had hit had been in San Francisco where she'd gone with him to a conference. He'd left their hotel room at two in the morning to go in search of the snack.

  Crazy thing was, he hadn't minded at all. If she'd decided she needed a couple of stars and a planet or two to go with it, he'd have done his best to get that for her, too.

  When she came back to bed, he made a place for her in his arms.

  "I'm sorry I woke you," she said. "Maybe I should start sleeping in the guest room until the baby's born."

  He buried his face in the soft flesh where her neck met her shoulder. "Does that mean the honeymoon's over?"

  "It means the breadwinner needs his rest."

  "You didn't wake me," he admitted. "I was as restless as you."

  "It's the CIA investigation, isn't it?"

  "Yeah."

  "You know their allegations are false, Langston. If they had evidence, they'd be prosecuting. You've said that yourself a hundred times over the last few months. They don't have evidence—because there isn't any."

  "I may have been overly optimistic." He felt her tense and wished he didn't have to tell her this, not now with the baby due so soon. He'd been fretting about it all night, and had finally acknowledged that the truth would be the only way he could break the worst of the news to her.

  "Is there something I don't know?"

  "I told you I'd hired an accounting firm to analyze our financial expenditures to the minutest detail."

  "And there's no reason to think they'll discover anything your own accountants haven't."

  He pulled her closer. "Only they did. Over six million dollars that was allocated to purchase equipment from overseas suppliers over the past two years has vanished. The equipment was reportedly delivered, but in actuality was never even ordered. There is no paper trail for where that money actually went."

  "So you think it might have gone to a terrorist organization?"

  "I don't know where in the hell it went, but I plan to find out." Here came the really hard part. "I'm going to have to make a trip to our Middle East facilities, Trish."

  "When?"

  "I have reservations for a Tuesday flight."

  "But the baby is due within the next two weeks."

  "I hope to be back in a week."

  "But what if the baby's early? You wouldn't be here. Oh, Langston, you can't miss the delivery. You've talked of being there and seeing your son take his first breath since the moment I told you I was pregnant."

&
nbsp; "I know." But better to miss the first breath than miss his son's whole life while he sat in a prison cell. "I think Collingsworth Oil has been set up, Trish. I don't know why or by whom, but someone—or some group—has orchestrated a brilliant plan to put us under and send me—and possibly other members of the family—to prison. I can't let that happen."

  "You can't take this on yourself. Every member of the family is an equal owner of Collingsworth Enterprises."

  "The oil business is my baby. I'll let them know what's going on, but I have to take full responsibility for this."

  "But you'll be able to straighten this out. I mean, there is no chance they can arrest you, is there?"

  "No, of course not," he lied.

  "I'm afraid, Langston."

  "Don't be, sweetheart." He was afraid enough for both of

  them.

  * * *

  It was after ten before Shelly had an opportunity to return Brady's call. Her suite, a spacious bedroom and cozy sitting room, had formerly been Zach's quarters. The only other room in this wing was the game-and-billiards area and it was empty now.

  She didn't know if her supervisor would answer or have the call transferred to someone working night shift at headquarters. Brady answered on the first ring.

  "State your name and business."

  Her pulse quickened. Shifting to this high level of security could not be good. "It's Shelly," she said, adding her private code word though she knew he'd recognize her voice. "Are their new developments in the Collingsworth investigation?"

  "The money is expected to be transferred on Monday. We've got it covered. There's a good chance Langston Collingsworth will be under arrest by Monday evening. He's being followed now in case he tries to leave the country. Arrest of other family members will likely follow shortly, with CEO Lenora Collingsworth second in line."

  The walls of the room started closing in on Shelly, and she held to the back of the loveseat to keep from sinking to the floor. "Are you certain the Collingsworths are actually behind this?"