Family Ties Read online

  Dillon leaned down, his tall frame bent until he met Petey at eye level. “It’s okay, big boy. Your mom and I are just talking.” He stretched a hand toward Petey. Petey hit it away.

  “A mama’s boy. But how could he not be, since the mother kept him away from the rest of his family?” The contempt in Dillon’s tone filled the room, thick and stifling.

  “I want you to leave now, Dillon. This is not the Randolph ranch, and you don’t run things here. We can talk about this tomorrow, without Petey around.”

  “And as soon as I leave, you can climb into the car and be on your way to who knows where.”

  “No, I can feed Petey and calm him down so he can get some sleep tonight.”

  “You still take me for a fool, don’t you? But this time I’m on to you. Obviously someone told you I was looking for you. Your bags are already packed and piled into the blue Honda parked in front. I’d recognize the green luggage anywhere. I carried it into a few hotels myself in the past.”

  “I wasn’t running from you, Dillon.”

  “No? Then who are you running from?”

  Ghosts from the past would be the most correct answer to Dillon’s question, but he wouldn’t buy it. And one hint of the trouble she was really in would give Dillon all the ammunition he needed to take her to court and take her son.

  “I don’t want to argue anymore, Dillon. Not until I’ve had time to hire a lawyer, although I’m sure he won’t be as expensive and high-powered as the one you’ll bring to the table. I’ll just have to count on justice pulling for the underdog.”

  “The underdog.” A harsh chuckle escaped his lips, with no suggestion of humor. “You’ve never been the underdog.”

  “Eat, Mommy,” Petey whined, tugging on her skirt. “Get cookie.”

  “No, sweetie. No more cookies. Mommy is going to fix you some dinner.” Petey eased out from behind her skirt and stared at Dillon, then gingerly touched the brim of the Stetson.

  Dillon handed it to him, and Petey stuck it on his head, letting it fall down around his eyes. Laughing, he yanked it off and threw it on the floor.

  “A cowboy never mistreats his hat or his horse, Petey,” Dillon said, picking the hat up and brushing it off.

  No, just his women, Ashley kept the sentiment on her tongue as Petey stepped closer, warming up to Dillon. She shouldn’t be surprised. One smile from Dillon was all it had taken to do her in for a lifetime.

  Petey handed Dillon his truck. “Play truck.”

  “Sure. I’d like to play with you.” Dillon twirled the wheels of the truck then sat it on the carpet. It rolled a few inches and Petey grabbed it, handing it back to Dillon.

  A natural father. But then Dillon was a natural at everything. The Texas phenomenon. That’s why he hadn’t needed the type of baggage a wife like her had brought along.

  “I’m going to fix Petey’s dinner,” she said, turning toward the kitchen. “Feel free to leave anytime.”

  Dillon ignored her comment. She left the two of them playing while she warmed the spaghetti and meatballs she’d cooked the night before and opened a can of green peas. They were Petey’s favorite. He’d eat them without a fuss, and she was not up to a fuss tonight.

  “Okay, Petey, time to eat,” she urged, when the food was warm and waiting.

  “Your mommy has dinner all ready. And it smells great.” Dillon led Petey to his booster chair, hand in hand.

  “Eat.” Petey patted the chair next to his.

  Dillon tried to lift Petey into his seat, but Petey squirmed from his grasp.

  “Eat meat,” Petey insisted, pushing Dillon toward the empty chair. As usual, his words were more order than request. Definitely a Randolph, Ashley decided.

  “I guess that’s up to your mom.”

  “Why not?” Ashley answered, too weary to fight the two of them. “Mr. Randolph doesn’t seem to want to leave us.” She kept her voice calm in spite of the fear and anger that charged every nerve. No use to get Petey upset again.

  They would have dinner and put Petey to bed. Then she would deal with Dillon. Besides, the cardinal rule for winning was to know one’s enemy. At one time, she’d been sure she knew Dillon Randolph through and through. A gunshot had changed that. It had changed Dillon, or else brought out truths she’d never been willing to see before.

  Now she’d have to be a fast student. The most important battle of her life faced her head-on, and her adversary had her seriously outpowered.

  DILLON RANDOLPH set the last of Ashley’s luggage inside her bedroom and moved to the door of Petey’s room. He watched as Ashley tucked his son under a lightweight blanket that resembled a mad painter’s interpretation of the Stone Age. The same bright colored dinosaurs and prehistoric birds danced along the top of the walls in a border half a foot wide. Not a horse or a cactus in sight.

  Nothing here to remind Ashley of the south Texas ranch she had run from. Who could blame her? What woman wanted half a man?

  But he had blamed her. For a lot of things. Or maybe blamed himself for marrying the wrong kind of woman, although he’d never gone through with a divorce. But the issues had changed now.

  Ashley could run all she wanted. It was his son he was here for. He watched as Ashley leaned over Petey, combing her fingers through his hair, raking it from his forehead. Not that it mattered, but he had to admit she was even more beautiful than he remembered

  The Florida sun had painted her light brown hair with streaks of gold and rubbed her smooth skin with bronze. Even motherhood wore well on her, softening the youthful curves, lighting her eyes with Petey’s reflection.

  His wife and his son. Both were only a few feet from him. So close and yet so far, separated by an invisible barrier more effective than the toughest barbed wire made. That’s why he could take nothing for granted.

  Dinner had been a semi-friendly affair, but he wasn’t fooling himself. The performance had been strictly for Petey’s benefit. The after-dinner confrontation would begin any minute, and when it did, civility would fly out the window.

  “No night-night, Mommy.” Dillon couldn’t help but smile at Petey’s rebellion as his head bobbed up from the pillow.

  “Yes, night-night. You had your bath and your story. Now it’s time for sweet dreams.”

  Ashley leaned over and touched her lips to Petey’s cheek.

  “Kiss Bear.” He poked the worn teddy bear in her face.

  She kissed the stuffed toy and then tweaked both their noses. “Now, bedtime. Bears and boys need lots of rest if they’re going to play all day tomorrow.”

  Petey dropped his head to the pillow, but he didn’t quite give up. Reaching, he wrapped his short arms around his mother’s neck and pulled her close.

  Something knotted in Dillon’s gut. He backed away. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but certainly not this. A loving mother. A son who clearly worshiped her. His hands grew clammy as the cozy little scene played out in front of him.

  IT WAS ten minutes before nine when Ashley finally settled on the sofa opposite Dillon. Steam rose in eerie spirals from the cups of coffee that sat between them, a sharp contrast to the chilly silence that filled the room.

  Words, explanations, ultimatums. Her mind had overflowed with them all evening, but now that the time had come to use them, her brain drew a total blank. Only her heart held the answers.

  Dillon shifted in his seat, and she steeled herself for what she knew was coming. Demands, Randolph style. He stared at her, his eyes hiding any hint of his feelings.

  “How have you been, Ashley?”

  The concern in his voice caught her off guard, and the frigidity she needed melted like ice on hot sand. Damn him. Couldn’t he fight fair for once in his life?

  “Does it matter?” she answered, determined not to play into his hands.

  “I guess not. But, for what it’s worth, you look great.”

  “Thanks. So do you. And now that we’ve played the etiquette game, why don’t we get down to business?”


  “If that’s the way you want it.”

  “It is.”

  “Then let’s deal with the facts.” He spread his hands and spoke in persuasive but impersonal tones, as if outlining a new platform for his campaign. “Petey is my son. We both know it, and we know a simple blood test will support my claims.”

  “You’re right.”

  A smug look settled on his face. She’d given him the first battle, but she had no choice. Dillon would insist on proof, not mere denial. And there had never been a doubt in her mind. She’d been a one-man woman.

  “At least you’re finally being reasonable on that count,” he continued. “That brings us to the next item. Petey’s place is on the ranch.”

  Anger churned inside her, fueling her resolve. “Petey’s place is with me. I may not have the Randolph clout and money, but I’m his mother and the only family he’s ever known. I have no intention of giving him up.”

  “I wouldn’t expect you to give him up. I want my son to have a mother.”

  “A mother?”

  “Okay, his mother. But, make no mistake, Petey will be raised a Randolph.”

  “Fine, I’ll give him your name, and he can send you a Father’s Day card once a year.”

  “You know that’s not what I’m talking about.”

  “No, I’m sure it’s not, and I’m also certain you have your demands all laid out in detail. So why don’t you quote them? That way I can tell you no, item by item, and you can get out of here and go ranting to your lawyer.”

  “Okay, Ashley, we’ll do this your way. Number one, I expect Petey to be raised on the ranch. It’s been the home of all the Randolphs since 1908.”

  “And the big house at Burning Pear is far more luxurious than what a poor working girl can provide.”

  “I didn’t say that. Besides, Petey won’t be living at the big house.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’ve built my own house at the ranch. It’s not much, a bungalow, but it’s more than adequate for a small family.”

  “So you built the bungalow?” Suddenly, she felt violated. Dillon had built the house they’d planned and dreamed of together. But he had built it without her.

  Nursing her fears and a hurt she couldn’t fully understand, she kept her voice cool. “Keep going, Dillon. Get the rest of the demands out in the open so I can throw you out and get some sleep.”

  “That’s pretty much it. My son will be raised as my son, under my roof. Is that so unreasonable?”

  “And his mother will be able to call and make an appointment to see him.”

  “I don’t want to take Petey away from you. I’ll admit that was my plan flying in today. But that was before I watched you with him.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I want you to move back to the ranch.”

  Shock knocked her speechless for the second time that night. She stared at Dillon, sure she must have heard him wrong. The last time she’d seen him, when she’d planned to tell him about his son, he’d made it clear he wanted no part of her.

  “It’s a solution, Ashley, for all of us.”

  “It’s preposterous!”

  “I don’t mean for you to live with me as my wife even though you still are legally, at least for now. I know how distasteful we both found marriage, and frankly, I’m not interested in reviving past problems. Like you, I’ve gone on with my life. However, I do expect certain concessions.”

  “Bow to all your commands, keep my mouth closed while you entertain lady friends? You did say you’d gone on with your life.” She hated the sound of her words, demeaning and petty. But her emotions were bolting and skidding out of control.

  “Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

  “Of course not.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I won’t bring my lady friends, as you call them, to the ranch. And I will not tolerate your seeing other men, not on Randolph property. But I do expect civility. For Petey’s sake and for my family. Especially for my mother, who for some insane reason has never given up believing we’ll get back together.”

  The man was intolerable. Her friends in Austin had all been right. Step in his path, and he’ll run right over you like a mad bull. Her hands clenched into tight fists.

  “The answer is no! I won’t live with you and pretend to be your wife. I wouldn’t do that to myself or to Petey.”

  “I’m not asking you to. Like I said, I’ve built a separate house. You and Petey can live there. I’ll stay at the big house. We’ll talk reasonably, like two adults, and make decisions together on raising Petey. And rest assured, you’ll never have to touch me.”

  “And you’d settle for that?”

  “A Randolph takes care of his responsibilities.”

  “I’m not your responsibility.”

  “Petey is.”

  The Randolph honor. Take in the wife like a charity case. But never touch her. She was trembling, positively livid and fully primed to fight.

  “Like I said before, the answer is no!”

  “Give it some thought, Ashley. It’s the best solution for all of us.”

  It was no solution. Not for a thousand reasons. He’d gone on with his life. Wonderful. She hadn’t even begun to go on with hers.

  And if she moved back to Burning Pear, she never would. To see Dillon every day, so close she could reach out and touch him…God, what was her mind doing?

  No, she could never do it. Besides, nothing had changed. The reasons she’d been forced to leave Dillon and Burning Pear in the first place were just as real as ever.

  “You’re asking the impossible, Dillon.”

  Fire burned in his eyes, crackling the air between them. Grabbing his hat from the table, he shoved it on his head. “Then be prepared for a battle, Ashley. I will have my son.”

  He didn’t wait for a reply. Ashley felt her heart sink as his boots clicked across the tiled entryway. He turned only for a second to issue his last warning.

  “And don’t bother trying to run. I’ll have you watched every second of the day and night.”

  “Or maybe you’d like to have us marked with the Burning Pear brand,” she shot back. “Personal property of Dillon Randolph.”

  Her only answer was the slamming of the door.

  LESTER GRANT sat in the late night café, mouthing down the last bites of a greasy hamburger. “A little more coffee over here, honey,” he said as the waitress jostled by him. He watched her movements. Her skin was wrinkled and dried from the sun, but ample breasts pushed the lines of her cotton T-shirt into inviting mounds.

  She was forty if she was a day, but judging from the layers of makeup on her face and the black paint that circled her eyes, she was trying hard to look like one of the college students who played on the beaches. Still, he’d been with a lot worse. Too bad he had more important things to do tonight than hang around and try his luck with this one.

  Not that his luck was running too well, anyway. He’d left New Orleans seven hours ago. He’d jumped in his truck the minute he’d heard from his source at the Randolph ranch that his hunch had finally paid off. The hotheaded Texas lawmaker had located his estranged wife and was flying out on the first plane to Destin to talk to her.

  Thanks to typical bad plane connections, Lester had been able to drive from New Orleans to Destin and be waiting at the airport before Dillon’s plane touched down. He’d followed the senator’s rented car to the beach highway. That’s when his luck had played out.

  Stopped for speeding by some two-bit cop making his quota. Of course, he hadn’t stopped Mr. Big Stuff, driving right in front of Lester at the same speed in his big Lincoln. The attraction was all for Lester and his beat-up ‘82 Ford. A poor tourist, the kind the city didn’t want or need.

  The cop didn’t waste a lot of time. A minute to write out a speeding ticket and a few more to complete a fast search of the pickup and uncover a pistol. If he’d let it go at that, Lester would have been just fine.

  But he had t
o get a man with time on his hands. He’d smiled while Lester stewed. “Just need a while here to call in an identity search,” he’d said, loving the control his gun and badge gave him. “I don’t suppose you have any objection to that, do you?”

  Lester had plenty of objections. He’d kept them to himself. While Dillon had sped out of sight, modem technology had pulled up Lester’s record, including the fact that he was breaking parole by carrying a shiny little Beretta.

  They’d taken the gun and hauled him in for questioning. Fortunately, they hadn’t wanted to bother with him. No use for them to waste their time on Louisiana slime. So said the chief, with a few extra four-letter words thrown in for good measure. So they’d released him on the condition he head back to New Orleans, or at least out of Florida.

  Obliging them would be a pleasure. He’d already spent seven years too many in a rat hole of a cell, and he was not going back. He’d make damn sure of that. As soon as he found Peter’s little sister, he’d be out of here. And the trail was red-hot, with Senator Dillon Randolph leading the way.

  He’d suspected all along if he just kept his eyes on Dillon Randolph, the hotshot senator would eventually lead him to Ashley. Dillon had married Ashley Jackson hoping to get his hands on the same money Lester was after. Not many people knew that, but Lester did. He’d made it his business to know.

  The waitress stopped in front of Lester and filled his coffee cup slowly, moving the pot up and down, giving him a good look at her cleavage.

  “What time do you get off?” he asked, forgetting his priorities, or maybe changing them as his body reacted to the silent invitation for a little Florida fun.

  “Midnight, unless the boss closes early. He does sometimes, if it’s real slow, like tonight.”

  “Got any plans?”

  “Not at the moment”

  “Well, why don’t we just change that? I’ll meet you here at midnight.”

  “No, not here. Just show up at my place. I’ll change and we can go for a walk on the beach. You bring the beer.”

  “You got it.”

  She scribbled down an address. “It’s not far from here, but you have to make a few turns. I’ll draw you a map.” She drew some lines and scribbled some street names. “I share the place with a roomie, but she’s spending the night at her boyfriend’s place.”