Midnight Rider Read online

  “What great memories.”

  “It was all good—until it ended.”

  “What happened?”

  “She went water-skiing one weekend with a group of friends. Someone in a speedboat slammed into them when she was getting back in the boat. She was crushed in the mangled wreckage. She died in the ambulance on the way to the E.R.”

  “Oh, Cannon. How sad. You must have missed her terribly.”

  “I did. I didn’t seem to fit in the world without her. I went home from the funeral with my mother’s brother. I don’t think he ever liked me. I know I never liked him, but you do what you’re told when you’re thirteen.”

  “Someone should have called R.J. and let him know,” Brit said.

  “My uncle called him and asked him for money for my support. R.J. told him he didn’t consider me a son, said he doubted I was even his.”

  “Surely not.”

  “I told you this was ugly. Heard enough?”

  “Enough that I understand why you have no use for R.J. But something must have changed his mind about you. He seems glad to see you now and he included you in his will.”

  “Too little. Too late. I’m not interested in his money or his ranch. I had enough of being bossed around by my uncle. I’ll have enough money in a few years to buy my own ranch and run it exactly as I please. At least that’s the way I had it planned before...”

  He didn’t finish the sentence, but she knew what he was thinking. Finding out he was a father would wreck those plans. Had Sylvie known that? Was that why she’d decided not to tell him about Kimmie?

  Only how well could Sylvie have known Cannon after only one night?

  But they had made love even if Cannon didn’t remember it. He’d kissed Brit once and pulled away.

  “I guess we should get started back to the truck if we want to catch Aidan and his wife before dinner time.”

  “I think so.”

  Only he didn’t start walking. He trailed a finger up her arm and then tucked his thumb beneath Brit’s chin. Her head was spinning as he tilted her head so that she couldn’t avoid meeting his gaze and staring into the deep depths of his brown eyes.

  Brit felt giddy, suddenly weak. Cannon kissed her forehead, her eyelids—the tip of her nose. Her heart pounded in her chest.

  And then his lips met hers and explosions of desire ripped through her body. His fingers tangled in her hair and he pulled her closer. She arched toward him, so lost in the kiss that all she wanted was more of him.

  He came up for air, only to trail his lips from her mouth to her earlobe. “I’ve wanted to do that all day,” he whispered. “You are driving me crazy without even trying.”

  “Crazy can be good.”

  He slipped his hands beneath the back of her shirt and his fingers danced along her bare skin. She found his lips again and melted into the thrill of him. No one had ever made her feel desirable. No one had ever made every area of her body ache for more of him.

  Her phone rang. Her first impulse was to ignore it. But realty pushed through the passion.

  “I have to,” she said, pulling away.

  “Brit, this is Sheriff Garcia. You called it and got it all right.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Cannon kept his eyes on the interstate, but listened intently, trying to keep up with Brit’s analysis of the sheriff’s findings. She was ecstatic, talking fast and throwing in so much police lingo he was having difficulty following her.

  “How about slowing down and speaking in English?”

  “Sorry. Most important development is that Melanie’s arrest is imminent.”

  “I got that part. I’m lost somewhere in the midst of graveyard timing, phone records, new clothes, fuel tank and opportunity.”

  “Elementary and evidential, babe. Luck and good police work, the two most important weapons in a detective’s arsenal.”

  “Not to mention my Smith & Wesson that came to the party last night.”

  “That goes without saying. Did I ever thank you for saving my life?”

  “Not appropriately,” he teased. Or maybe he wasn’t teasing. He’d never wanted a woman more—nor been more certain he was heading for heartbreak.

  “I could bake you a cake,” she teased right back. “Well, actually, I can’t cook, but I could buy one from the bakery.”

  “I’m not that into cake.”

  “Back to the timing,” she quipped, wisely changing the subject before they started something they couldn’t stop and risked never making it to Plano.

  Brit kicked out of one black pump and pulled her bare foot into the seat with her. She shifted, so that she was facing him. “You played a major part in the timing, without which we wouldn’t have hit the evidence jackpot or have a case against Melanie.”

  “All I did was drive and follow your orders.”

  “Requests, not orders,” Brit reminded him, excitement still singing in her voice. “Fifteen minutes earlier or later and we would have missed seeing Melanie in the cemetery. She wouldn’t have pulled a gun on me. There would have been no arrest for breaking the rules of her parole.

  “Melanie was carted off to jail so unexpectedly she didn’t have time to dispose of evidence. Her handbag and phone were on her bed in plain sight when they searched her house, as were two packed suitcases.”

  “Did it look as if she were returning from somewhere or leaving?”

  “Definitely leaving, most likely permanently. There was nothing left in the drawers of her chest or her dresser. Her luggage was packed with an all-new wardrobe. Most of the clothes still had the tags on them. Most of it beachwear.”

  “Off to a Caribbean Island or perhaps Mexico,” Cannon said, thinking out loud.

  “Definitely somewhere warm,” Brit agreed. “If we hadn’t driven here last night, Melanie and her evidence might have been long gone before she was questioned.”

  “Not following orders paid off that time,” Cannon said.

  “Which should put me back in good standing with Captain Bradford.”

  “Did they find any plane tickets?”

  “No, but you can always buy those at the last minute, a common practice of people unlawfully fleeing the country.”

  “Did she have the requisite fake passport?”

  “None was found. But she could have been flying out on a private jet or picking a fake passport up on her way to the airport. I’m sure she wouldn’t have any trouble making those arrangements. After almost five years in prison, Melanie surely knows people in low places.”

  “Will you be able to get a transcript of the phone calls between Brit and Clive?”

  “No, but we have the date and times the calls were made, whether they were incoming or outgoing and the lengths of the calls.”

  “And Clive Austin’s name actually came up on the phone records?”

  “Yes, but we’re talking about the records on the phone itself. It was a prepaid phone, the kind you can buy at any convenience store. She probably planned on destroying it before she fled the area.”

  “When were the calls made?”

  “They talked twice two days before my attack, both calls short and initiated by Clive.”

  “That doesn’t quite add up if Melanie was the one looking to hire him.”

  “The first contact with him was likely made in person through a trusted third party.”

  “That makes sense,” Cannon said. “I doubt a killer for hire would be advertising. How many other phone contacts were there between the two of them?”

  “Only one,” Brit said. “She called him the morning of my attack. The phone call lasted ten minutes, plenty of time to go over last-minute details like the location of the apartment where he was found dead. She may have arranged to deliver the final payment there, if all had gone well.”

  “Sounds like a lot of supposition.”

  “That’s not unusual in murder cases, unless you have an eye witness. But the supposition is based on facts. What the sheriff uncovered provides s
olid evidence that Melanie was lying when she said she didn’t know Clive and that there was communication between them just prior to Clive’s failed attempt on my life and his murder.”

  “You mentioned discovering a key to a safety deposit box in her handbag when you were speed talking. How does that fit into the evidence framework?”

  “There’s no direct link at this point, but it does indicate she had something of value. It was always suspected that she had made off with some gold bars and a few very expensive pieces of jewelry that were never accounted for after Richard Crouch’s murder. Selling them on the black market would explain where she got the money to hire Clive and pay for her stylish new wardrobe, and leave enough for her to live on once she’d settled in paradise.”

  “Must have been a chunk of shiny rocks to bring in that kind of dough.”

  “Her late husband was a very rich man.”

  “Any idea who fenced the gold and jewelry?”

  “No, but they found a receipt for a full tank of gas purchased at an Oak Grove service station four days ago. Her tank is almost empty now. She’d have never used that much gas just driving into Oak Grove and back.”

  “So we have motive, ability and opportunity,” Cannon said. “Gotta hand it to Sheriff Garcia. That was a nice day’s work.”

  “Agreed. He’s a far shrewder investigator than I would have guessed from our cemetery meeting.”

  “So what happens next?” Cannon asked.

  “Melanie will be arrested for paying someone to murder Sylvie, Clive and me, even though I survived. Those charges will insure she won’t qualify for bail.”

  Brit reached over and laid a hand on his thigh. The slight touch set off a spiral of arousal. It was downright scary that a simple touch from her could have that strong an effect on him. Not only did it turn him on physically, but also it felt familiar, as if her hand belonged there, and that touched him on a dozen other levels.

  “Seriously, I can’t thank you enough for the part you played in all of this, Cannon. I’m not sure why you ended up at the hospital the morning after my attack, but I’m sure glad you did.”

  “I’m not sure why I did, either,” he said truthfully. “Guess it was meant to be.”

  “I like that sentiment.”

  “Do you still want to go to Plano?”

  “I would—if you don’t mind. I’d like hear what Aidan McIntosh thinks about the case against Melanie. Most of all, it would give me a chance to ask him if he knows anything about my adoption.”

  “Good thinking.”

  Brit’s mood lightened dramatically as they drove the last few miles toward Plano. He’d barely been able to resist Brit when she’d been obsessed with finding Sylvie’s killer and her attacker. Now she was completely intoxicating.

  His phone rang as they exited the freeway in Plano. “R.J.,” he said, willing to let the call go unanswered.

  “You have to answer it,” Brit urged. “It could concern Kimmie.”

  Reluctantly, Cannon took the call and switched to speaker so Brit could listen in on the conversation.

  “I hear you two swooped in and showed Garcia how to solve a murder case in record time,” R.J. said.

  “Brit and the sheriff did the work. I just hung around and watched.”

  “That’s not how Garcia is telling it. He’s ready to hire you on the spot.”

  “Tell him I appreciate the offer, but I’ll stick to bull riding.”

  “Travis said you two were going to stay in town tonight because Brit didn’t want to bring any trouble our way. Never was any need for that but sure as shootin’ ain’t no reason for that now. Adam and Leif are grilling Dry Gulch steaks tonight. No trouble to add two more.”

  “Don’t count on us for dinner. We’re in Plano right now and I’m not sure how long we’ll be.”

  “What in Sam Hill are you doing way up there?”

  “Taking care of some personal business.” He wasn’t about to start explaining his comings and goings to R.J.

  “Even if you get here late, would be nice to have you. Tomorrow’s Saturday and the whole family will be around. Be a good chance for you and Brit to get to know everyone. If Kimmie’s your daughter, Brit will be part of the family, too.”

  As if that were an honor. “No use to rush things.”

  “No use to make things harder than they have to be, either, Cannon. Up to you, but Leif’s daughter, Effie, and Faith’s son, Cornell, have big plans for the morning. They’re calling it our first ever annual Christmas Tree Search. Everyone will be splitting up into teams and going out on horseback to see who can find the most perfect Christmas tree. My neighbor Mattie Mae is coming over for the fun. She’ll be here to watch Kimmie.”

  “I doubt we can make it.”

  “You do what you think’s best, but you’ll be missed.”

  Brit barely waited until the connection was broken to light into him.

  “Did you have to be that rude? They’re taking care of your daughter.”

  “Possibly my daughter. And I appreciate that, but I’m not going to play the happy-family game when I have no intention of making R.J. part of my life.”

  “He’s your father and he’s reaching out to you. Would it hurt you to at least give him a chance? It’s not as if he’ll be around forever.”

  “He was never around, not for me. Wouldn’t even admit I was his son.”

  “He’s admitting it now. At least talk to him. Tell him how you feel and why. It might be good for both of you to get things out in the open.”

  “I just can’t see the point of it.”

  “Have it your way, but I want to go back to the Dry Gulch tonight.”

  Now he’d ticked her off—the last thing he’d wanted to do. “Afraid to stay alone with me at Travis’s condo?” he teased, hoping to get her back in a good mood.

  “Not afraid in the least,” she said. “Didn’t you hear R.J.? I’m part of the family, and I don’t want to miss the first ever annual Christmas Tree Search.”

  * * *

  AIDAN MCINTOSH POURED a double shot of Scotch into a glass while he waited for Brit’s arrival.

  He figured the talk tonight would concern Sylvie, since he’d only had one short conversation with Brit since her sister’s death. Marcus had always hoped that Sylvie and Brit would meet someday when the time was right. Aidan didn’t see the time as ever being right.

  Brit’s father had always been a hero in Brittany’s eyes, bigger than life, more an idol to her than any movie or sports star.

  Aidan didn’t have the heart or the right to soil Marcus’s memory.

  He took his drink to the family room. His wife joined him there seconds later. “You should have told Brit we were busy.”

  “We’re not busy.”

  Her hands flew to her narrow hips. Too narrow, to his way of thinking. She was so thin she could have hidden behind a two-by-four.

  “Don’t go all pious on me, Aidan McIntosh. It’s not as if you haven’t lied to her before. ‘Anything to help out a friend.’ Well, look where that got you. Look where it got our son.”

  Aidan was used to her bitterness and endless nagging about his shortcomings and how he’d failed his family. Through the years he’d learned to shut her out like static on an old radio. Tonight every word from her mouth seared into his conscience.

  “You don’t owe her anything, Aidan. You definitely wouldn’t owe her father as much as a damn if he called from hell.”

  “Don’t start again, Louise. It’s not Marcus’s fault our son is in prison. Matt made the decisions that ruined his life. He fired the gun that killed innocent people.”

  “Matt didn’t mean to kill the innocent victims. You know that. My Matt is not a killer.”

  “You’ve been going over and over this for years, Louise. Please, just give it up.”

  “How can you give it up, Aidan McIntosh? Marcus Garner ruined your life, and you were his best friend.”

  “Marcus did the same as I’d have done in h
is shoes, the same as any honest cop would have done. I broke the law by covering up for Matt’s drug dealing. I had to pay the price.”

  “Still making excuses for Marcus after all these years. Your son and your career were everything to you. Marcus stripped that from you as callously as if you were a stranger he’d passed on the street.”

  “I took them from myself, Louise.”

  He’d been too busy enforcing the law to pay attention to what was going on under his own roof. Had he been tuned in to it, he’d have realized that Louise was covering for Matt and his growing drug habit.

  The addiction. The dealing. And finally the drive-by shooting that had left a teenager and an innocent child dead and another wounded.

  “It’s time to tell Brittany the truth about her father, Aidan. She’s a big girl now. She can handle it. Marcus doesn’t deserve your protection and neither does she.”

  “Let it go, Louise. We’ve been over this a hundred times. For God’s sake, just let it go.”

  “No. Not this time. Either you tell her about her so-called adoption or I do.”

  The doorbell rang.

  “I mean it, Aidan. You tell Brittany or I will. Marcus shattered our lives. He stole the one person I loved more than life itself while protecting his own daughter from even a hint of his sins.”

  “Marcus is dead, Louise. He has been for three years now. Let it go. You can’t hurt him. Instead, you’re destroying yourself. But if it will help you move past this hatred, I’ll tell Brittany everything.”

  The doorbell rang again. “I’ll get it,” she said, walking away and smiling as if she’d won some nefarious game. It was the first time he’d seen her smile in years.

  * * *

  BRIT EXCHANGED A warm hug with Aidan. Louise, as always, was more aloof. Louise’s affection for Brit had died when her son had been sentenced to life in prison.

  At nineteen, Brit hadn’t fully understood her pain. After years of seeing the effect of death on so many, she understood it all too well now.

  “It’s good to see you again, Louise.”

  “It’s been a while. What brings you here tonight?” Louise asked, avoiding any indication that she was glad to see Brit.