Riding Shotgun Read online

  “I have marshmallows, chocolate candy bars and Graham crackers,” Esther said. “Anyone up for s’mores?”

  “Count me in,” Grace said. “Haven’t had one of those since my Girl Scouts days.”

  “Okay, guys. That’s enough begging.” Pierce stood and put his hands out as if he were surrendering. “Let me grab my coat and I’ll have a campfire going outside in ten minutes.”

  Jaci hopped across the room. “Goody. Goody. We’re gonna burn up marshmallows.”

  “I’ll make some hot chocolate,” Grace offered.

  True to his word, Pierce had the fire blazing by the time they made it to the campfire he’d started in the backyard. They couldn’t see the Christmas lights from there, but heaven was putting on a show of its own. It was like someone had thrown a million diamonds into the air and they’d stuck on a mat of black velvet.

  “Texas stars,” Pierce said when he saw her admiring them. “Not like this anywhere else.”

  “I’m pretty sure Texas doesn’t have its own Milky Way,” Grace said.

  “You’ll change your mind about that, after you’ve been deep in the heart of the Lone Star State for a while.”

  But she wouldn’t be there awhile. She needed to leave at sunup, before she lost her heart so completely to this whole wonderful family that she’d never be able to say goodbye.

  They’d finished off the s’mores and were sitting around the fire in folding outdoor chairs and sipping hot chocolate when Pierce’s phone rang.

  He checked the ID. “Sheriff Cavazos. I better take this.”

  Jaci walked over and climbed into Grace’s lap. Grace tried to fight back her anxiety over why the sheriff was calling back tonight.

  She kissed the top of Jaci’s head and cuddled her close. “I think someone’s getting sleepy.”

  “Will you give me a bath and read me a story?”

  “Of course.”

  The perfect night was about to come to an abrupt end. Grace was looking at Pierce and even in the firelight she could tell that the news he was getting from the sheriff was not good.

  * * *

  “THE WOMAN YOU were with today is not who she claims to be. I just thought you and Esther would like to know.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Pierce had known from the beginning that Grace carried secrets and fears that wouldn’t let her be herself. He wasn’t that surprised that the social security number she’d given Sheriff Cavazos was fake. The number belonged to a woman from Buffalo, New York, who had died over ten years ago.

  There were plenty of places to get fake IDs, driver’s licenses, social security cards, even passports if you had the money to pay for one. The worry was why she needed one.

  He couldn’t make himself believe that she’d committed a crime so terrible that she’d had to go on the run and lose herself in a new identity. He’d seen evil in men’s eyes more than once. He saw only goodness in Grace’s.

  Or had he fallen so hard for her that he couldn’t see past his testosterone? Was it possible he was putting his daughter and even Esther in danger because he was falling in love with Grace?

  He stared into the dying embers of the campfire, the cold having crawled so deep inside him he didn’t feel it any longer. The others had all gone inside at least an hour ago.

  Jaci had wanted Grace—not him—to help her bathe and to tuck her into bed. Like Esther, she’d bonded almost instantly with Grace. Could they all be wrong about her?

  As the final sparks turned to ash, he grabbed the hose and sprayed down the campfire until there was no danger of the wind stirring the flames again.

  There was a light on in the kitchen, but he fully expected everyone to be in bed when he stepped inside the back door. Instead, Esther was sitting at the table munching on a cookie.

  “Did you finally decide to come in?”

  “I had a lot on my mind.”

  “I noticed. What did the sheriff have to say that threw you into such a dark place?”

  “Was it that evident?”

  “It was to me. I’m sure it was to Grace, too.”

  His first urge was to tell Esther the truth, but he had to talk to Grace about this first. He owed her that much. But he did have questions for Esther.

  “I heard today that Charlie’s friend Dudley Miles is in prison.”

  “He is. At least Charlie wasn’t alive to see it. He thought so highly of Dudley. It would have killed him to see his friend up on the stand admitting what he’d done to that poor little boy.”

  Pierce pulled out a kitchen chair and straddled it. “Exactly what did Dudley do?”

  “He was home alone with his four-year-old grandson, Kyle. He had a few drinks and fell asleep, or passed out as the prosecutor said. Apparently, the boy climbed up on the kitchen counter and then fell off and landed on his head. He was dead when Dudley found him.”

  “Poor guy. And poor kid. Was that Angela’s son?”

  “Yeah. Do you remember her?”

  “She was a couple of years behind me in school, but I remember she was a spoiled brat and a real pain. In fact, that kind of irresponsibility sounds a lot more like her than Dudley.”

  “That’s exactly what Charlie said before he was murdered. He was convinced Dudley was totally innocent.”

  “Then this all happened just a few months ago?”

  “Yes. Dudley confessed it all less than two weeks after Charlie’s death. Confessed to not watching the boy properly and more.”

  “More?”

  “He took the lifeless body of his grandson and buried it in the woods. It wasn’t found for almost a month, time Angela believed the boy had been kidnapped. You can imagine how frantic she and her mother were. And all the while Dudley was pretending he was looking for the missing boy.”

  “That doesn’t even make sense. It was an accident. Why would he get rid of the body?”

  “They went over and over that during the trial. The prosecutor claimed Dudley was afraid of facing his family and of facing charges after his failure to watch the boy had led to his death. But then Dudley admitted to everything. I have to think he just temporarily lost his mind when he found his grandson dead.”

  “Still doesn’t make sense unless that’s not how the boy really died.”

  Esther dabbed at her eyes with a napkin. “Sometimes I think it’s even worse for Millie than it is for me. She lost her grandson to death and her husband to prison. But at least she still has a daughter. I have no one.”

  Pierce reached across the table and laid a hand on top of hers. “You’re not alone, Esther. I may not always be here in the house, but I promise I will be in your life from now on.”

  “I appreciate that, but you boys have your own lives. It’s none of my business, but if you let Grace Addison get away from you, I think you’re making a huge mistake.”

  “That may not be my choice.”

  “It is. I can see the way she looks at you and the way you look at her. From my viewpoint it’s pretty obvious that you two are crazy about each other. A woman can always see those things.”

  Even if she was right, that didn’t guarantee him a choice. He walked Esther back to her bedroom. Knowing he still wouldn’t be able to sleep, he tiptoed down the hall and stopped at the closed door to where Grace was sleeping.

  He’d like nothing more than to go in, wake her up and beg her to finally tell him the truth.

  No. He’d like nothing better than to crawl into bed with her and hold her body next to his. He ached to make love with her.

  No matter what she’d done, he wanted her so badly he could feel it in every cell in his body.

  Instead, he turned and walked away. If they were to have a chance, it was up to her. She had to trust him enough to admit the truth.

  * *
*

  THE ROOM WAS DARK but not empty. She could hear breathing and the sound of footsteps coming closer. Bloodred eyes stared at her as a hand closed around her throat.

  “Did you really think you could get by with destroying me, Grace? Did you think I wouldn’t make you pay?”

  Fear paralyzed her. This couldn’t be happening. Tom was in prison. She was trapped in a nightmare. She tried to scream, but his hands on her neck choked and silenced the attempt.

  A low maniacal laughter echoed through her brain. He moved his face closer to hers. The smell of alcohol overpowered her senses, made her dizzy as if she was the one who was drunk.

  The fingers of his free hand trailed her cleavage and then pinched her right nipple so hard she winced in pain.

  “I’ve missed you so much my beautiful nympho. You do remember the fun we had together, don’t you, sweetheart? At first when you were so crazy about me you couldn’t keep your hands off me.” He straddled her, holding her down with his body.

  He was going to force himself on her again, painfully, humiliatingly, the way he had so many nights after he tired of torturing her. Her stomach retched. She didn’t care. She’d love to throw up in his taunting face.

  He removed his hand from her throat. It still hurt to breathe, but air pushed into her lungs. He held her hands over her head, shoving them hard into the bed.

  She could see him clearly now, but he didn’t look like the Tom she remembered. His eyes and his unearthly grin made him look like a demon.

  “Sex was so much more satisfying after you turned against me, the games we played much more creative after you decided you were too good for me.”

  “I was too good for you. I am too good for you. You are a vile, repulsive murderer. You kill people in cold blood.”

  “Only those who deserve it, the ones who double-cross me the way you did.”

  “You killed my grandfather. He was a helpless old man in a wheelchair and you shot him dead in his own home like a rabid dog. He never did anything to you. He never did anything mean to anyone.”

  “You have only yourself to blame for his death, lovely Grace. I live by a code. A simple rule that serves me well. Double-cross me and you and anyone you love pays. But let’s not waste time talking about the past. We have so many new things to discuss.”

  His grip loosened on her right hand just long enough for her to break free. She clawed at his face, her nails digging into his flesh. He slapped her hard across the face.

  Somehow she managed to clasp her hand around the base of the bedside lamp. Tom wrenched it from her hand and hurled it across the room.

  He leaned over and put his mouth to her ear. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I won’t kill you yet. I have surprises to show you first.”

  He yanked her from the bed. She fell to the floor and he crushed her chest with his foot and then picked her up by the hair.

  “You cut your hair. I told you to never cut your hair. You did it for him, didn’t you?”

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

  “Of course you do. I’m talking about your lover. You think he’s going to save you. Big, tough cowboy. He died begging me to let him live, just as your grandfather did. Just as you will when the time is right.”

  No. No. No. This was a nightmare. If she fought it hard enough, she would wake up and she would be in her own bed in Tennessee.

  No. Not in Tennessee. She was in Texas.

  She tried to run. Her legs refused to move. Wake up. She had to wake up.

  She couldn’t. This was too real. Tom was dragging her across the room and she had no strength to fight him off.

  “Tell me what you miss most about me, Grace. The hot wax dripping onto your nipples? Or is it the bodies that littered our beautiful home in the wee hours of the morning?”

  “That was a long time ago. Please go away. Let me have a life. Please. Just let me have a life.”

  “That’s right. Beg. I love it when you whine and beg. You can have your life. You’re already dead to me. But first, the surprise.”

  She grabbed hold of the bedpost and held on until he tore her fingers from the wood and almost from her hands. She closed her eyes and prayed for the nightmare to end.

  Tom opened a door. “Here’s your life, Grace. Open your eyes and see all the gifts I brought you.”

  She opened her eyes, afraid to look, more afraid not to. Three bodies lay on the floor, facedown, with nothing to cover them but shredded sheets.

  Tom kicked the first one, rolling it over. Grace stared into the dead eyes. No. No. It couldn’t be. “She was only a little girl.”

  “You knew the code. You broke the rules.”

  Her heart beat so hard she could feel it clawing its way out of her chest.

  Finally, screams tore from her throat.

  “Kill me, Tom. Kill me, you rotten son of a bitch, and then kill yourself. The devil is tired of waiting on your soul.”

  His laugh was the last thing she heard before she felt her heart explode.

  Chapter Twelve

  The agonizing screams punctured Pierce’s sleep. His eyes flew open and he jerked to a sitting position. His mind spun, trying to focus on the urgency that ripped through him. Screams? Or had sleep pulled him back into battle?

  The screams started again, piercing, chilling, as if someone’s heart had been ripped out and tossed to a pack of wild hogs.

  Not Jaci. She was in the room next to him.

  Grace!

  He jumped out of bed naked, grabbed his jeans and yanked them on, though he didn’t waste time zipping them. He heard Esther’s footsteps close behind him as he raced down the hallway.

  “I’ve got it,” he called without slowing down or looking back. “You check on Jaci. I don’t want her alone and frightened if the screams wake her.” He barged through Grace’s door. Panic cracked him across the ribs like a two-by-four when he saw her bed.

  The quilt was on the floor. Crimson-smeared sheets were pulled down so far he could see the right corner of the mattress. Sharp-edged chunks of ceramic from a busted lamp were scattered like river rocks over a dry creek bed.

  Finally, he spotted Grace. She was curled up fetal-style on the floor in the far corner of the room. Eyes closed. Not moving. His heart thundered in his chest as he rushed across the room and kneeled to check her pulse.

  It was beating strong. The rush of relief made it difficult to breathe. He touched a hand to her forehead. She opened her eyes and tears spilled from the corners and ran down her cheeks.

  “What happened in here?” he asked.

  Grace pulled herself to a sitting position but leaned against the wall for support. “I had a nightmare.”

  “Must have been a humdinger.”

  Grace nodded but didn’t elaborate. No doubt she was still in shock. So was he. This looked like a scene from a horror movie just after the psycho paid a visit.

  Pierce left her alone long enough to slip into her bathroom and wet a cloth. When he got back to her, she was looking more alert and staring at the bloodied scratches on her hands and forearms.

  “I’ve never scratched myself until bleeding in a nightmare before,” she said.

  “Probably happened when you cracked the lamp over someone’s head.”

  “I don’t remember doing that.”

  He zipped his jeans and then went back to Grace. He wiped her face with the cool cloth and then washed the already dried blood from her hands. “Do you remember the rest of the nightmare?” he asked.

  “The worst of it.” She tried to stand, but she swayed and almost fell. Pierce caught her before she did. This had been no ordinary nightmare and the hell of it clearly still had a hold on her.

  He lifted her into his arms and carried her to the rocking chair near the window
. Her cotton gown was damp, her skin clammy.

  He took her on his lap, cuddled her close and rocked her like a baby. Pierce knew next to nothing about psychology, but he’d seen firsthand on the battlefield what living with constant fear and danger could do to a person.

  He was more certain than ever that Grace was running scared. That fear had erupted tonight in her subconscious. But she couldn’t go on like this. He had to find a way to make her see that.

  “I’m here, Grace,” he said softly in a tone he hoped was reassuring. “The nightmare was just that. It can’t hurt you. I won’t let anything hurt you. Not tonight. Not ever.”

  The moment the words left his mouth, he knew they were more than empty promises. When he’d heard her screams and then walked into the room to find her in that petrified state, his heart passed the point of no return.

  He wasn’t just in heat, he loved her. It might make no sense, but it was true all the same. He’d do anything to help her escape whatever she was running from, but he couldn’t do it unless she let him.

  “Do you want to talk about the nightmare?”

  “It wouldn’t help.”

  She was closing him out again, but this time he wouldn’t let her. Her life might be at stake.

  “Have you had this same nightmare before?”

  “Far too often.” She looked around. “But I’ve never destroyed a room like this before.”

  “Maybe the nightmare is trying to tell you something.”

  “Oh, it told me something, okay. It made its message nauseatingly clear.” She pulled herself out of his arms and walked over to lean against the foot of the bed.

  “It’s time I move on and leave you, Jaci and Esther to celebrate your terrific family Christmas without me and my problems.”

  “We’re not the scary ones, Grace. We’re not giving you the nightmares. I don’t know what’s happened in your past, but I do know if you don’t deal with it, the nightmares are never going to end.”

  “You don’t know what I’m facing, Pierce. You’re strong and brave and decent and I know you want to help me now. But if you knew the truth, you’d be packing my bags for me this minute.”