Hitched!

Hitched! B.J. Daniels Hitched! B.J. Daniels www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk) Table of Contents Cover (#u64eef623-9f88-5843-8e4c-2794f5a1301e) Title Page (#ued7ea7b2-c8de-5a12-b488-e858d76faa6f) About the Author (#u6af53b59-609e-5dbd-a57c-f8a1c4c8c262) Dedication (#uba7ae39c-a6a5-5d57-8f76-05d0b64720ad) Chapter One (#u5e5ded77-88ca-5a0a-8e3a-204effc1c0e0) Chapter Two (#u0edb6ad0-cd39-50c0-b80e-56fd532a01ee) Chapter Three (#u21d2eb3d-cdbf-5a1d-907a-be9197a0bbbb) Chapter Four (#uf124bb8b-003b-5bec-b1cf-209566f8c9c3) Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo) Copyright (#litres_trial_promo) About the Author B.J. DANIELS wrote her first book after a career as an award-winning newspaper journalist and author of thirty-seven published short stories. Since then she has won numerous awards, including a career achievement award for romantic suspense and many nominations and awards for best book. Daniels lives in Montana with her husband, Parker, and two springer spaniels, Spot and Jem. When she isn’t writing, she snowboards, camps, boats and plays tennis. Daniels is a member of Mystery Writers of America, Sisters in Crime, International Thriller Writers, Kiss of Death and Romance Writers of America. To contact her, write to B.J. Daniels, PO Box 1173, Malta, MT 59538 or e-mail her at bjdaniels@mtintouch. net. Check out her webpage at www.bjdaniels.com. This one is for E-Dub. You are always an inspiration! Chapter One Jack hadn’t seen another person in miles when he spotted the woman beside the road. He was cruising along Highway 191, headed north through the most unpopulated part of Montana, when he saw her. At first he blinked, convinced she had to be a mirage, since he hadn’t even seen another car in hours. But there she was, standing beside the road, hip cocked, thumb out, a mane of long, ginger hair falling past her shoulders, blue jeans snug-fitting from her perfect behind down her impossibly long legs. Jack slowed, already having doubts before he stopped next to her in his vintage, pale yellow Cadillac convertible. Just the sight of her kicked up the heat on an already warm May day. She had a face that would make any man look twice. He watched her take in the restored convertible first then sweep her green-eyed gaze over him. He thought of warm, tropical sea breezes. Until he looked closer. As warm as the day was, she wore a jean jacket, the collar turned up. He caught a glimpse of a stained T-shirt underneath. Her sneakers looked wet, like her hair. Her clothes were dusty and the cuffs of her jeans wet and muddy. He’d seen an empty campground in the cottonwoods as he passed the Missouri River, but it was still early in this part of Montana to be camping, since the nights would be cold. It was especially too early to be bathing in the river, but he had to assume that was exactly what she’d done. “Going any place in particular?” he asked, worried what she was doing out here in the middle of nowhere all alone. Assuming that was the case. He glanced toward the silky-green pine trees lining the road, half-expecting her boyfriend to come barreling out of them at any minute. But then, that was the way his suspicious mind worked. “Up the highway.” She leaned down to pick up the dirty backpack at her feet. It appeared as road worn as she was. All Jack’s instincts told him he’d regret giving this woman a ride. But it was what he glimpsed in her eyes that made up his mind. A little fear was normal for a woman traveling alone in the middle of nowhere. This woman was terrified of something. He saw her glance back down the highway toward the river, that terror glittering in all that green. “Then I guess you’re going my way.” He smiled, wondering what the hell this woman was running from and why he was opening himself up to it. Any fool knew that a woman on the run had trouble close at her heels. “Hop in.” She swung the backpack to her shoulder, straightened the collar of her jean jacket and shot another look back down the lonesome highway. Jack glanced in his rearview, half-afraid of what had her so scared. Heat rose from the empty two-lane blacktop. He caught a glimpse of the river below them, the dark surface glistening in the morning sunlight. A hawk squawked as it soared on a current coming up out of the river. A cloud passed overhead, throwing the rugged ravines and gullies choked with scrub juniper and pine into shadow. As he turned back, she was apologizing for her muddy sneakers. “Don’t worry about that,” he said, figuring this woman had a lot more to worry about than getting his car dirty. As he reached across to open her door, she dropped her backpack onto the passenger-side floorboard and slid into the seat, closing the door behind her. Jack tried to shove off his second thoughts about picking up a total stranger on the run from beside the road in such a remote, isolated place as he watched her settle into the soft leather. He couldn’t miss the way she pulled her bulging backpack protectively between her feet. The backpack, like her T-shirt, was stained with dirt and splattered with something dark the color of dried blood. “Name’s Jack. Jack Winchester.” Then he asked, “I’m on my way to the Winchester Ranch. You don’t happen to know the Winchesters, do you?” “I don’t know a living soul in Montana.” She took his outstretched hand. Her skin was silky smooth and just as cool. “Josey.” Her eyes widened a little, as if that had just slipped out. “Josey Smith.” She’d stumbled on the last name, a clear lie. It made him wonder again who or what was after her. “Nice to meet you, Josey.” He told himself he was just giving her a ride up the road as far as the turnoff to the ranch. Shifting the Caddie into gear, he took off. As they topped the mountain and left the river and wild country of the Breaks behind, he saw her take one last look back. But the fear didn’t leave her eyes as they roared down the long, empty highway. JOSEY FOUGHT to still the frantic pounding of her heart. She didn’t want this man to see how desperate she was. She was still shaking inside as she turned up the collar on her jean jacket and lay back against the seat. She needed time to think. It still wasn’t clear to her what had happened back there on the river. Liar. She closed her eyes, trying to block it all out. But the memory was too fresh. Just like the pain. She could still see the car breaking the dark green surface and sinking, hear the gurgling sound as water rushed in, see the huge bubbles that boiled to the surface. She’d stumbled and fallen as she scaled the rocky bluff over the river, then worked her way through the pines, not daring to look back. She’d only just broken out of the trees and onto the highway when she’d heard the growl of an engine and spotted the Cadillac coming up the hill. It was the first vehicle she’d seen or heard in hours. Holding her breath and reining in her urge to run, she’d stuck out her thumb—and prayed. Her only hope was to get as far away as she could. She’d been scared the driver of the Cadillac wouldn’t stop for her. She could just imagine the way she looked. But he had stopped, she thought. That alone made her wary. She tried to concentrate on the warm spring breeze on her face, telling herself she was alive. It seemed a miracle. She’d gotten away. She was still shaking, though, still terrified after the horror of the past two days. She opened her eyes, fighting the urge to look back down the highway again, and glanced over at the man who’d picked her up. Under normal circumstances she would have thought twice about getting into a car with a complete stranger, especially out here where there were no houses, no people, nothing but miles and miles of nothing. Jack Winchester looked like a rancher in his jeans, boots, and fancy Western shirt. His dark blond hair curled at his nape under the black Stetson. She glanced down at her own clothing and cringed. She looked as if she’d been wallowing in the dirt. She had. Furtively, she brushed at her jeans and, unable to refrain any longer, turned to look back down the highway. Empty. She felt tears sting her eyes. He wasn’t coming after her. He couldn’t ever hurt her again. She shuddered at the thought. Not that it was over. By now California criminal investigators would have put out an all-points bulletin on her. Before long she’d be wanted in all fifty states for murder—and they didn’t know the half of it. AHEAD, THE LITTLE ROCKIES were etched purple against the clear blue sky of the spring day. As the land changed from the deep ravines and rocky ridges of the Missouri Breaks to the rolling prairie, Jack watched his passenger out of the corner of his eye. She chewed at her lower lip, stealing glances in the side mirror at the highway behind them. She had him looking back, as well. Fortunately, the two-lane was empty. As he neared the turnoff to the ranch, Jack realized he couldn’t just put her out beside the road. He couldn’t imagine how she came to be hitchhiking, but his every instinct told him she was in danger. He could only assume it was from some man she’d hooked up with and later regretted. Whoever was after her, Jack didn’t want him or her to catch up with his passenger. He knew it was crazy. The last thing he needed was to get involved in this woman’s problems. But he also didn’t want her blood on his hands. A thought crossed his mind. He prided himself at thinking on his feet. Also at using situations to his advantage. And it appeared fate had literally dropped this woman into his lap. Or at least dropped her into his Caddie. Josey couldn’t have been more perfect if he’d ordered her from a catalog. The more he thought about it, the more he liked his idea, and he wondered why he hadn’t thought of it before he’d agreed to this visit to the “family” ranch. He glanced over at her. She had her eyes closed again, her head back, her hair blowing behind her in a tangled wave of sun-kissed copper. She was stunning, but beyond that his instincts told him that this woman wasn’t the type who normally found herself in this kind of position beside a road, and possibly running for her life. Jack reminded himself that his instincts had also warned him not to pick her up back there. He smiled to himself. Taking chances was nothing new to him, nor was charming his way to what he wanted. He’d been told that he could talk a rattlesnake out of its venom without even a bite. He knew he could talk this woman into what he had in mind or his name wasn’t Jack Winchester. But he didn’t figure it would take much charming. He had a feeling she’d go for his proposal because she needed this more than he did. “So, Josey, how do you feel about marriage?” he asked as they cruised down the vacant two-lane headed toward Whitehorse, Montana. “Marriage?” she asked, opening one eye. Jack grinned. “I have a proposition for you.” Chapter Two Josey had been taken aback, instantly suspicious until he explained that he was on his way to see his grandmother, who was in her seventies. “She has more money than she knows what to do with and lives on a huge ranch to the east of here,” Jack said. “You’d be doing me a huge favor, and I’d make it worth your while. The ranch is sixty miles from the nearest town and a good ten from the nearest neighbor.” A remote ranch. Could she really get this lucky? He was offering her exactly what she needed, as if he knew how desperate she was. Was it that obvious? “What do you get out of it?” she asked, wary. “Your company as well as a diversion. Since we’re on our honeymoon I have the perfect excuse to spend less time at my grandmother’s bedside.” “I take it you aren’t close.” He laughed at that. “You have no idea.” Still, she made him work for it. This wasn’t her first rodeo, as they said out here in the West, and Jack Winchester was definitely not the first con man she’d come across in her twenty-eight years. He was good, though, smooth, sexy and charming as the devil, with a grin that would have had her naked—had she still been young and naive. She was neither. She’d learned the hard way about men like Jack Winchester back in her wild days. But she also knew he would be suspicious if she gave in right away. “One week,” she said, hoping she wasn’t making a huge mistake. Jack had showed up just when she needed him and this marriage charade. No wonder she was feeling this was too good to be true. But given her lack of options … He flashed her a sexy grin, and she told herself all she had to do was resist his cowboy charm for a week. No problem. She closed her eyes and dozed until she felt him slowing down on the outskirts of what appeared to be a small Western town nestled in a river bottom. “Welcome to Whitehorse,” Jack said with a laugh as they crossed a narrow bridge. “I thought we’d buy a few things for you to wear this week. I’m guessing you don’t have a lot of clothing in that backpack.” That almost made her laugh as she pulled the backpack closer. “I definitely could use some clothes and a shower before I meet your grandmother.” “No problem. Just tell me what you need. I’m sure there’s a truck stop at one end of this town or another. It’s the only town for miles up here.” She looked over at him. He was making this too easy. Was he thinking that with a wife his grandmother would give him twice the inheritance? “You’re sure about this? Because I’m really not dressed to go into a clothing store,” she said, sliding down in the seat as they entered town. JACK FELT A CHILL as Josey turned up the collar on her jean jacket and slid down in her seat. Who the hell is after her? And what the hell have I got myself into? Still, the gambler in him told him to stick to his plan. He couldn’t throw this woman to the wolves. “My wife can have anything she wants or needs,” he said. “Just name it.” And she did, including hair dye and a pair of sharp scissors. He hadn’t even lifted a brow, but he’d hated the thought of what she planned to do to that beautiful hair of hers. It definitely brought home the realization that he’d underestimated just how much trouble this woman was in. “I’ll tell you what. Why don’t I drop you at the truck stop? You can get a hot shower, get out of those clothes and I’ll come by with everything else you need.” “You don’t know my size.” “I’m good at guessing.” He saw her hesitate. “Trust me.” Like a dog that’d been kicked too many times, her look said, When hell freezes over. She told him what else she needed, which turned out to be just about everything. He had to wonder what was in that backpack. It looked full. But apparently there wasn’t much clothing in it. Whatever was in the backpack, it was something she wasn’t letting out of her sight. She kept the backpack close, taking it with her when he dropped her at the truck stop. Jack watched her walk away, her head down as if trying to go unnoticed, and told himself he was going to regret this. JOSEY DIDN’T EXPECT to see Jack Winchester again as he drove away from the truck stop. She wouldn’t have blamed him. She’d caught the look that crossed his handsome face when she’d asked for the dark hair dye and scissors. Only a fool wouldn’t get the implication of that and Jack, she suspected, was no fool. By the time she’d showered, she’d found the items she’d asked for waiting for her just outside the shower door. She took the scissors to her hair, surprised by how painful it was. It was just hair. It would grow back. But she knew she wasn’t upset about her hair. It was all the other losses in her life. She let the dye set in her short hair as she avoided looking in the mirror, then took another shower, wondering if she would ever feel truly clean again. In the bags he’d left for her, she found jeans, shirts, a couple of summer dresses, sandals, undergarments, a robe and nightgown, and even a pair of cowboy boots. Josey shook her head, amazed that he would make so many purchases including the two scarves she’d asked for. He really was good at guessing. He’d not only guessed her sizes right down to her shoe size, but he’d chosen colors and styles that she might have chosen for herself. She’d been so touched, it had choked her up, and she realized how long it had been since someone had been nice to her. Jack was waiting for her in the shade outside beside the Cadillac. It surprised her that she’d been dreading his reaction to the change in her appearance. She’d worn the boots, jeans and Western shirt he’d bought her, as well as a scarf tied around her neck that went with the shirt. He smiled when he saw her. His gaze took in her hair first, then the rest of her. “I see the clothes fit.” “Yes, thank you.” She felt strangely shy. “I like your new look,” he said, nodding, as they climbed into the car. “You do?” she asked, and braved checking herself in the vanity mirror. It startled her, seeing herself as a brunette with short curly hair that framed her face. Her green eyes appeared huge to her. Or maybe it was the dark shadows under them. She didn’t even recognize herself. “It suits you,” he said. “Thank you.” She snapped the visor up. Who was she kidding? Changing her hairstyle wasn’t going to save her. Nothing would. It was just a matter of time before the rest of her world came crashing down. She saw Jack looking at her backpack again, even more curious. She’d put her dirty clothing and sneakers into one of the shopping bags, and had to stuff the second bag with the new clothing. She’d have to watch him closely until she had an opportunity to hide the backpack’s contents for safekeeping during the week at the ranch. If she lasted the week. If there was even a ranch, she thought, as Jack drove south on a highway even less traveled than the last one they’d been on. She no longer trusted herself to separate the good guys from the bad. JACK STUDIED JOSEY as they left town. The new hairstyle and color only made her more striking. A woman like her couldn’t go unnoticed, if that was what she was hoping. So far, he thought she was safe. The truck stop hadn’t been busy, and the clerk there hadn’t given either of them a second glance. She’d been too busy watching the small television behind the counter. Jack had noticed that when Josey came out to the car she’d carried both bags of clothing he’d purchased for her as well as that backpack she refused to let out of her sight. With her dirty clothes in one bag and the other bag overstuffed with her new clothes, he was even more concerned about what was in her backpack. “You didn’t have to buy me so much,” Josey said now as he drove east out of town. “I wouldn’t want my grandmother to think that I’m cheap when it comes to my wife and her wardrobe.” His expression sobered at the thought of his grandmother, Pepper Winchester. He didn’t give a damn what she thought, but he did want her to believe this marriage was real. It hadn’t crossed his mind to bring a “wife” along. Not until he’d picked up Josey beside the road and had this overwhelming desire to help her. No good deed goes unpunished, he could hear his father say. Jack admitted that his motives hadn’t been completely selfless. Having a wife would allow him more freedom on the ranch, freedom he would need. He thought of his mother and told himself he was doing this for her. It wasn’t about revenge. It was about justice. As he glanced over at Josey, he knew he would have to be careful, though. Josey was a beautiful woman. He couldn’t afford to get involved in her trouble and lose sight of why he was really going to the ranch. He reminded himself Josey had gone along with the “marriage” because she needed to hide out somewhere safe for a week—just as he’d suspected. What was there to worry about? “I hope we’ve got everything we need,” he said, glancing back at Whitehorse in his rearview mirror. The tiny Western town was only about ten blocks square with more churches than bars, one of the many small towns that had spouted up beside the tracks when the railroad had come through. “A few more miles and it will be the end of civilization as we know it,” Jack said. “There are no convenience stores out here, nothing but rolling prairie as far as the eye can see.” “It sounds wonderful,” she said. “I should probably fill you in on my grandmother,” Jack said, as the road turned to gravel and angled to the southeast. “She’s been a recluse for the past twenty-seven years and now, according to her attorney, she wants to see her family. The letter I received made it sound as if she is dying.” Josey looked sympathetic. “I’m sorry. A recluse for twenty-seven years? I can understand why you might not have been close.” “I was six the last time I saw her.” But he remembered her only too well. Her and the ranch and those long summer days with his mother, all of them living a lie. AS JACK DROVE OUT of Whitehorse, Josey felt a little better. She’d been nervous in town, trying hard not to look over her shoulder the whole time. At the truck stop, she’d just about changed her mind. She desperately needed to put more distance between her and her past. But the only other option was hooking a ride with a trucker passing through, since there appeared to be no place in this town that she could rent a car or even buy one. Also, why chance it when she could hide out for a week at some remote ranch? She was anxious to do the one thing she needed to do, but it would have to wait just a little longer. She certainly couldn’t chance walking into a bank in this town. It was too risky. But then again, how risky was it pretending to be a stranger’s wife? Even as desperate as she was. Even as good-looking and normal as Jack Winchester appeared. Who was this man? And what was the deal with his reclusive grandmother? She reminded herself how bad her judgment had been lately, her hand going to her neck beneath the scarf and making her wince with pain. She hoped she hadn’t just jumped from the frying pan into the fire. As the Cadillac roared down the fairly wide gravel road through rolling grasslands and rocky knolls, she tried to relax. But Jack Winchester had her confused. He seemed like a nice guy, but nice guys didn’t fool their grandmothers with fake wives. Even though she’d fought it, Josey must have dozed off. She woke as the Cadillac hit a bump and sat up, surprised to see that the road they were on had narrowed to a dirt track. The land had changed, becoming more rough, more desolate. There were no buildings, nothing but wild country, and she had the feeling there hadn’t been for miles. “Is the ranch much farther?” she asked, afraid she’d been duped. Again. Sagebrush dotted the arid hills and gullies, and stunted junipers grew along rocky breaks. Dust boiled up behind the Cadillac, the road ahead more of the same. “It’s a bit farther,” Jack said. “The ranch isn’t far from a paved highway—as the crow flies. But the only way to get there is this road, I’m afraid.” Josey felt a prickle of fear skitter over her skin. But come on, what man would buy you clothes just to take you out in the middle of nowhere and kill you? She shuddered, thinking she knew a man exactly like that. “You thought I was kidding about the Winchester Ranch being remote?” Jack asked with a laugh. When he had told her about where they would be spending the week, she had thought it perfect. But now she doubted there was even a ranch at the end of this road. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d been played for a fool, but it could be the last. Josey had a bad feeling that she’d used up any luck she’d ever had a long time ago. She shifted in her seat and drew the backpack closer, considering what she was going to do if this turned out to be another trap. Jack didn’t look like a deranged madman who was driving all this way to torture and kill her. But then RJ hadn’t looked like a deranged madman, either, had he? She stared at the road ahead as Jack drove deeper into the wild, uninhabited country. Occasionally she would see a wheat field, but no sign of a house or another person. As the convertible came over a rise in the road, Jack touched his brakes, even though all she could see was more of the same wild landscape. He turned onto an even less used road, the land suddenly dropping precariously. “Are you sure you’re on the right road?” Her hand went to her backpack, heart hammering in her chest as she eased open the drawstring and closed her hand around the gun handle, realizing she had only four shots left. “I’m beginning to wonder about that myself. I asked for directions back at a gas station in town before I picked you up, so I’m pretty sure I’m on the right road.” The car bumped down the uneven track, then turned sharply to the right. “There it is.” He sounded as relieved as she felt. Josey looked up in surprise to see a cluster of log buildings at the base of the rugged hills behind it. A little farther down the road Jack turned under a huge weathered wooden arch, with the words Winchester Ranch carved in it. Her relief was almost palpable. Josey released her hold on the pistol, trying to still her thundering heart as the Cadillac bumped down the narrow dirt road toward the ranch buildings. She frowned, noting suddenly how the grass had grown between the two tracks in the road, as if it hadn’t had much use. As they grew closer, she saw that the cluster of log buildings looked old and … deserted. Josey reminded herself that the grandmother had been a recluse for the past twenty-seven years. At least that was what Jack had said. So she probably hadn’t had a lot of company or use on the road. After what she’d been through, Josey thought she could handle anything. But she suddenly feared that wasn’t true. She didn’t feel strong enough yet to be tested again. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take before she broke. As they rounded a bend in the road, her pulse quickened. This place was huge and creepy-looking. Sun glinted off a line of bleached white antlers piled in the middle of a rock garden. She noticed other heads of dead animals, the bones picked clean and hanging on the wood fence under a row of huge cottonwoods. As she looked at the house, she thought of the “big bad wolf” fairy tale and wondered if a kindly grandmother—or something a lot more dangerous—was waiting inside. Jack parked in front and killed the engine. A breathless silence seemed to fill the air. Nothing moved. A horse whinnied from a log barn in the distance, startling Josey. Closer a bug buzzed, sounding like a rattlesnake. She felt jumpy and wondered if she’d lost her mind going along with this. “Are you all right?” he asked. He looked worried. She nodded, realizing she was here now and had little choice but to go through with it. But this ranch certainly wasn’t what she’d expected. Not this huge, eerie-looking place, that was for sure. “I know it doesn’t look like much,” Jack said, as if reading her mind. The house was a massive, sprawling log structure with wings running off from the main section and two stories on all but one wing that had an odd third story added toward the back. The place reminded her of a smaller version of Old Faithful Lodge in Yellowstone Park. At one time, the building must have been amazing. But it had seen better days and now just looked dark and deserted, the grimy windows like blind eyes staring blankly out at them. “Don’t look so scared,” Jack said under his breath. “My grandmother isn’t that bad. Really.” He made it sound like a joke, but his words only unnerved her further. As the front door opened, an elderly woman with long, plaited salt-and-pepper hair filled the doorway. Her braid hung over one shoulder of the black caftan she wore, her face in shadow. “Showtime,” Jack said as he put his arm around Josey and drew her close. She fit against him, and for a moment Josey could almost pretend this wasn’t a charade, she was so relieved that at least part of Jack’s story had been true. An old woman lived here. Was this the grandmother? Jack planted a kiss in her hair and whispered, “We’re newlyweds, remember.” There was a teasing glint in his blue gaze as he dropped his mouth to hers. The kiss was brief, but unnervingly powerful. As Jack pulled back he frowned. “I can see why we eloped so quickly after meeting each other,” he said, his voice rough with a desire that fired his gaze. This handsome man was much more dangerous than she’d thought. In at least one way, she had definitely jumped from the skillet into the fire. She gave Jack a playful shove as if she’d just seen the woman in the doorway and was embarrassed, then checked to make sure the scarf around her neck was in place before opening her door and stepping out, taking the backpack with her. Showtime, she thought, echoing Jack’s words. No one would ever find her here, wherever she was. She had to pull this off. She was safe. That was all she had to think about right now, and as long as she was safe her mother would be, as well. One week. She could do this. Jack was by her side in a flash, his arm around her, as they walked toward the house. An ugly old dog came out growling, but the elderly woman shooed him away with her cane. Josey studied the woman in the doorway as she drew closer. Jack’s grandmother? She didn’t have his coloring. While he was blond and blue-eyed, she was dark from her hair to her eyes, a striking, statuesque woman with a face that could have been chiseled from marble, it was so cold. “Hello, Grandmother,” Jack said, giving the woman a kiss on her cheek. “This is my wife—” “Josey Winchester,” Josey said, stepping forward and extending her hand. The woman took it with obvious surprise—and irritation. Her hand was ice-cold, and her vapid touch sent a chill through Josey. “I didn’t realize you were married, let alone that you’d be bringing a wife,” his grandmother said. Jack hadn’t planned on bringing a wife. So why had he? Josey wondered. It certainly hadn’t ingratiated his grandmother to him. And as for money … was there any? This place didn’t suggest it. “This is my grandmother, Pepper Winchester,” Jack said, an edge to his voice. The elderly woman leaned on her cane, her gaze skimming over Josey before shifting back to Jack. “So, you’re my son Angus’s boy.” Wouldn’t she know he was her son’s child? The woman must be senile, Josie thought. Or was there some reason to question his paternity? “I remember the day your mother showed up at the door with you,” Pepper said. “What were you then?” “Two,” Jack said, clearly uncomfortable. His grandmother nodded. “Yes. I should have been suspicious when Angus involved himself in the hiring of the nanny,” Pepper said. So Jack was the bastard grandson. That explained this less than warm reception. Jack’s jaw muscle tensed, but his anger didn’t show in his handsome face. He put his arm around Josey’s waist and pulled her closer, as if he needed her as a buffer between him and his grandmother. Another reason he’d made her this phony marriage offer? When he’d told her about his grandmother and this visit, Josey had pictured an elderly woman lying in bed hooked up to machines, about to take her final gasp. This woman standing before them didn’t look anywhere near death’s door. Josey had speculated that this was about money. What else? But if she was right, then Jack had underestimated his grandmother. This woman looked like someone who planned to live forever and take whatever she had with her. “Since I didn’t realize you had a wife,” Pepper Winchester was saying, “I’ll have to instruct my housekeeper to make up a different room for you.” “Please don’t go to any trouble on my account,” Jack said. The grandmother smiled at this, cutting her dark gaze to him, eyes narrowing. Be careful, Josie thought. This woman is sharp. JACK HESITATED at the door to the huge ranch lodge. This place had once been filled with happy memories for him, because he’d lived here oblivious to what was really going on. Ignorance had been bliss. He’d played with the other grandchildren, ridden horses, felt like a Winchester even before his mother had confessed that he was one and he realized so much of their lives had been lies. “Coming, dear?” Josey called from the open front doorway. He looked at his beautiful wife and was more than grateful she’d agreed to this. He wasn’t sure he could have done it alone. Josey, so far, was a godsend. His grandmother was a lot more on the ball than he’d thought she would be at this age. Grandma had disappeared into the musty maze of the lodge, leaving them in the entryway. Jack was surprised that he still felt awe, just as he had the first time he’d seen it. This place had been built back in the nineteen forties and had the feel of another era in Western history. He stared at the varnished log stairway that climbed to the upper floors, remembering all the times he’d seen his mother coming down those stairs. “Mrs. Winchester said you are to wait down here.” Jack swung around, surprised to see the gnarled, petite elderly woman who had managed to sneak up on them. To his shock, he recognized her. “Enid?” She was still alive? If she recognized him, she gave no indication as she pointed down the hallway then left, saying she had to get their room ready. She left grumbling to herself. Behind them, the front door opened, and an elderly man came in carrying Jack’s two pieces of luggage from the trunk of the Cadillac. Alfred, Enid’s husband. Amazing. He noticed that Josey still had her backpack slung over one shoulder. Alfred noticed, as well. “I’ll take that,” the old man said, pointing to it. She shook her head, her hand tightening around the strap. “I’ll keep it with me, thank you.” Alfred scowled at her before heading up the stairs, his footsteps labored under the weight of the bags and his disapproval. “I can’t believe those two are still alive,” Jack whispered to Josey, as he led her down the hallway. “I remember them both being old when I was a kid. I guess they weren’t that old, but they sure seemed it.” He wondered if his grandmother would be joining them and was relieved to find the parlor empty. Josey took a seat, setting her backpack on the floor next to her, always within reach. Jack didn’t even want to speculate on what might be in it. He had a bad feeling it was something he’d be better off not knowing. Chapter Three Deputy Sheriff McCall Winchester had been back to work for only a day when she got a call from a fisherman down at the Fred Robinson Bridge on the Missouri River. Paddlefish season hadn’t opened yet. In a few weeks the campground would be full with fishermen lined up along the banks dragging huge hooks through the water in the hopes of snagging one of the incredibly ugly monstrous fish. This fisherman had been on his way up to Nelson Reservoir, where he’d heard the walleye were biting, but he’d stopped to make a few casts in the Missouri as a break in the long drive, thinking he might hook into a catfish. Instead he’d snagged a piece of clothing—attached to a body. “It’s a woman,” he’d said, clearly shaken. “And she’s got a rope around her neck. I’m telling you, it’s a damned noose. Someone hung her!” Now, as McCall squatted next to the body lying on a tarp at the edge of the water, she saw that the victim looked to be in her mid-twenties. She wore a thin cotton top, no bra and a pair of cutoff jeans over a bright red thong that showed above the waist of the cutoffs. Her hair was dyed blond, her eyes were brown and as empty as the sky overhead, and around her neck was a crude noose of sisal rope. A dozen yards of the rope were coiled next to her. McCall studied the ligature marks around the dead woman’s neck as the coroner loosened the noose. “Can you tell if she was dead before she went into the water?” Coroner George Murphy shook his head. “But I can tell you that someone abused the hell out of her for some time before she went into the water.” He pointed to what appeared to be cigarette burns on her thin arms and legs. “Before he hung her.” “What kind of monster does stuff like that?” George, a big, florid-faced man in his early thirties, single and shy, was new to this. As an EMT, he’d gotten the coroner job because Frank Brown had retired and no one else wanted it. “Sheriff?” McCall didn’t respond at first. She hadn’t gotten used to being acting sheriff. Probably because she hadn’t wanted the job and suspected there was only one reason she had it—Pepper Winchester. But when the position opened, no one wanted to fill in until a sheriff could be elected. The other deputies all had families and young children and didn’t want the added responsibility. McCall could appreciate that. “Sheriff, we found something I think you’d better see.” “Don’t tell me you found another body,” the coroner said. McCall turned to see what the deputy was holding. Another noose. Only this one was wrapped around a large tree trunk that the deputies had pulled up onto the riverbank. As McCall walked over to it, she saw two distinct grooves in the limb where two ropes had been tied. Two ropes. Two nooses. The thick end of the dead branch had recently broken off. She looked upriver. If the limb had snapped off under the weight of two people hanging from it, then there was a good chance it had fallen into the river and floated down to where the deputy had found it dragging the second noose behind it. “Better go upriver and see if you can find the spot where our victim was hung,” McCall said. “And we better start looking for a second body in the river.” PEPPER WINCHESTER RUBBED her temples as she paced the worn carpet of her bedroom, her cane punctuating her frustration. The first of her grandchildren had arrived—with a new wife. She shouldn’t have been surprised, given Jack’s lineage. None of her sons had a lick of sense when it came to women. They were all too much like their father, suffer his soul in hell. So why should her grandsons be any different? Her oldest son Worth—or Worthless, as his father had called him—had taken off with some tramp he met in town after Pepper had kicked him out. She would imagine he’d been through a rash of ill-conceived relationships since then. Brand had married another questionable woman and had two sons, Cordell and Cyrus, before she’d taken off, never to be seen again. Angus had knocked up the nanny and produced Jack. She shuddered to think how that had all ended. Trace, her beloved youngest son, had gotten murdered after marrying Ruby Bates and producing McCall, her only granddaughter that she knew of. Pepper stepped to the window, too restless to sit. When she’d conceived this plan to bring her family back to the ranch, she wasn’t sure who would come. She’d thought the bunch of them would be greedy enough or at least curious enough to return to the ranch. She didn’t kid herself that none of them gave two cents for her. She didn’t blame them, given the way she’d kicked them all off the ranch twenty-seven years ago and hadn’t seen one of them since. So why was she surprised that Jack wasn’t what she’d expected? The same could be said for his wife. She wasn’t sure what to make of either of them yet. She pulled back the curtain and stared out at the land. Her land. She remembered the first time she’d seen it. She’d been so young and so in love when Call had brought her back here after their whirlwind love affair and impromptu marriage. He hadn’t known any more about her than she had him. How foolish they both had been. It had been hard at first, living on such an isolated, remote ranch. Call had hired a staff to do everything and insisted no wife of his would have to lift a finger. Pepper had been restless. She’d learned to ride a horse and spent most of her days exploring the ranch. That was how she’d met neighboring rancher Hunt McCormick. She shivered at the memory as she spotted movement in the shadows next to the barn. Squinting, she saw that it was Enid and her husband, Alfred. They had their heads together and their conversation looked serious. It wasn’t the first time she’d caught them like that recently. What were they up to? Pepper felt her stomach roil. As if her family wasn’t worry enough. JOSEY STUDIED JACK. He seemed nervous now that they were here at the ranch. Was he realizing, like her, that his grandmother had gotten him here under false pretenses? “As you’ve probably gathered, my mother was the nanny here as well as the mistress of Angus Winchester, my father,” Jack said distractedly, as he moved to look out the window. “According to my mother, they had to keep their affair secret because my grandmother didn’t approve and would have cut Angus off without a cent.” He turned to look at her. “As it was, Pepper cut him and the rest of her family off twenty-seven years ago without a cent, saying she didn’t give a damn what they did. When my father died, my grandmother didn’t even bother to come to his funeral or send flowers or even a card.” “Why would you come back here to see your grandmother after that?” Josey had to ask. He laughed at her outraged expression. “There is no one quite like Pepper Winchester. It wasn’t just me, the bastard grandson, she washed her hands of after her youngest son disappeared. Trace Winchester was her life. She couldn’t have cared less about the rest of her offspring, so I try not to take it personally.” Shocked, she watched Jack study an old photograph on the wall. “If the only reason you came here is because you thought she was dying—” “It isn’t the only reason, although I’ve been hearing about the Winchester fortune as far back as I can remember.” Jack smiled as he glanced at her over his shoulder. “She looks healthy as a horse, huh? I wonder what she’s up to and where the others are.” “The others?” she asked. “My grandmother had five children. Virginia, the oldest, then Worth, Angus, Brand and Trace.” “You haven’t mentioned your grandfather.” “Call Winchester? According to the story Pepper told, he rode off on a horse about forty years ago. His horse came back but Call never did. There was speculation he’d just kept riding, taking the opportunity to get away from my grandmother.” Josey could see how that might be possible. “When Trace disappeared twenty-seven years ago, it looked like he was taking a powder just like his father,” Jack said. “I would imagine that’s what pushed my grandmother over the edge, and why she locked herself up in this place all the years since.” “So what changed?” “Trace Winchester’s remains were found buried not far from here. Apparently he was murdered, and that’s why no one had seen him the past twenty-seven years.” “Murdered?” “Not long after his remains were found I got a letter from my grandmother’s attorney saying my grandmother wanted to see me.” Jack walked over to the window again and pushed aside the dark, thick drape. Dust motes danced in the air. “It was more of a summons than an invitation. I guess I wanted to see what the old gal was up to. Pepper Winchester never does anything without a motive.” His grandmother had suffered such loss in her lifetime. To lose her husband, then her youngest son? Josey couldn’t even imagine what that would do to a person. She could also understand how Jack would be bitter and angry, but it was the underlying pain in Jack that made her hurt for him. She knew only too well the pain family could inflict. The last thing she wanted, though, was to feel anything for Jack Winchester. Nor did she want to get involved in his family drama. She had her own problems, she reminded herself. She pulled her backpack closer, then with a start realized there was someone standing in the doorway. The housekeeper Jack had called Enid. Josey wondered how long the woman had been standing there listening. She was one of those wiry old women with a scornful face and small, close-set, resentful eyes. Enid cleared her throat. “If you’ll come with me.” She let out a put-upon sigh before leading them back to the staircase. As they climbed, Josey took in the antique furniture, the rich tapestries, the thick oriental rugs and the expensive light fixtures. She tried to estimate what some of the pieces might be worth. Maybe there was money here—if the ranch wasn’t mortgaged to the hilt. She feared that whatever had brought Jack here, he was going to be disappointed. Jack looked around as they climbed the stairs, his face softening as if he was remembering being a boy in this place. There must be good memories along with bittersweet ones during his four years here. Josey felt a sudden chill along with a premonition. She tried to shake it off. Why would there be any reason to be afraid for Jack? They were led down a long, dark hallway to an end room. “Since you’re newlyweds,” Enid said. “This way you won’t disturb the rest of the household.” Jack arched a brow at the old woman behind her back. “I’m sure you’ll ring me on the intercom if you need anything.” Enid let out an irritated snort. “Dinner is served at seven on the dot. I wouldn’t be late if I were you.” With that she left them standing outside the room and disappeared into the dim light of the hallway, her footfalls silent as snowfall. “That woman is scary,” Josey whispered, making Jack chuckle. “Let’s do this right,” he said, surprising her as he swung her up into his arms. “In case anyone is watching,” he added in a whisper. She let out a squeal as he carried her over the threshold, making him laugh. His laughter was contagious and she found herself caught up in the moment as he kicked the door shut and carried her into the bedroom. The room was huge, with a sitting area furnished with two chintz-covered chairs in front of a stone fireplace. Josey caught a glimpse of a large bathroom done in black-and-white tile, sheer white drapes at the open French doors to a small balcony and, at the heart of the room, a large canopied bed. Jack slowed at the bed, and as he gently lowered her to the cool, white brocade spread his gaze met hers. The sheer white curtains billowed in, bringing with them the sweet scent of clover and pine. She felt as if she’d been saved by a white knight and brought to the palace for safekeeping. It would have been so easy to lose herself in the deep sea-blue of his eyes as he leaned over her. Jack was incredibly handsome and charming. Everything seemed intensified after what she’d been through. The hard feel of his chest against her breasts, the slight brush of his designer stubble against her cheek, the oh-so-lusty male scent of him as he lowered her to the soft bed. She wanted desperately to blot out everything but this. It would have been so easy, with her gaze on his sensual, full mouth, to bury her fingers in his a-little-too-long blond hair and drag him down until his lips, now just a breath away from hers, were— “You’re not thinking about kissing me, are you?” he asked, sounding as breathless as she felt. “Because that wasn’t part of the bargain. Unless you want to renegotiate?” Josey realized that he’d been about to lose himself as well, and, for whatever reason, he’d stopped himself. And her. She shouldn’t be feeling safe. She should be thinking of the consequences of losing herself even for a little while in the arms of this man. Jack was making it clear what was going to happen if she opened that door. She squeezed her hands between their bodies, pressing her palms to his muscular chest, but she didn’t have to push. Jack eased slowly back to a safer distance, though it seemed to take all of his effort. “Didn’t Enid say something about dinner at seven?” she asked, her voice sounding strange even to her ears. “I have just enough time to take a bath first.” Jack glanced toward the bathroom. He must have been wondering why she needed another bath since she’d had a shower in town. “I can’t resist that tub.” A huge clawfoot tub sat in the middle of the black-and-white tiled floor. His blue eyes darkened again with desire, and she saw both challenge and warning as he glanced from the tub to her. They were alone at this end of an empty wing pretending to be husband and wife. Unless she wanted the marriage consummated, she’d better be careful what signals she sent out. Josey slid from the bed, grabbed her backpack and stepped into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind her. The room was large. Along with the tub there was an old-fashioned sink and dressing table, and enough room to dance in front of a full-length old-fashioned mirror. Josey set down her backpack and stepped to the tub to turn on the faucet. Enid had left her a bottle of bubble bath, bath soap and a stack of towels. As the tub filled, bubbles moved in the warm breeze that blew in from an open window in the corner and billowed the sheer white curtains. She stripped off her clothing and, with a start, caught her reflection in the full-length mirror behind her. She looked so different. Slowly, her heart in her throat, she studied her face, then the bruises she’d been able to hide under her clothing. The raw rope burn on her neck made her wince at just the sight of it. What had she been thinking earlier with Jack? Had she lost herself in him, he would have seen— She shuddered at the thought. She couldn’t let that happen. It wouldn’t be easy to keep her injuries covered so no one saw them until she had a chance to heal. But that would be easier than trying to explain them if she got caught. Josey turned away from her unfamiliar image, anxious to climb into the tub of warm, scented water. She knew she couldn’t wash away her shame any more than she could wash away the memory of what had happened. As she stepped into the tub and slowly lowered herself into the bubbles and wonderfully warm, soothing water, she listened for Jack. Had he left the room? Or was he just on the other side of the door? Against her will, her nipples hardened at the thought. She reminded herself that Jack was just a means to an end. A safe place to hide out until she could decide what to do. As Jack had said, the Winchester Ranch was in the middle of nowhere. Her past couldn’t find her here. Once she knew her mother was safe … She lay back in the tub, the breeze from the window nearby stirring the bubbles, but the chill Josey felt had nothing to do with the warm spring air coming through the window. Was she really safe here? There was something about this place, something about Jack’s grandmother, definitely something about the Hoaglands, that gave her the creeps. Josey shivered and sank deeper in the tub, realizing the most dangerous person in this house could be the man she’d be sleeping in the same room with tonight. VIRGINIA WINCHESTER STOOD at the window where she’d watched the Cadillac convertible drive up earlier. She hadn’t been sure which nephew it was and hadn’t cared. All she knew, and this she’d had to get from Enid since her mother wasn’t apt to tell her, was that three nephews had confirmed that they would be arriving over the next few weeks. She wouldn’t have recognized any of them. The last time she’d seen them they’d been sniveling little boys. She’d had no more interest then than she did now. By now there could be more. She shuddered at the thought. She did, however, wonder why her mother hadn’t just invited everyone back at the same time. Pepper had her reasons, Virginia was sure of that. She herself was the fly in the ointment, so to speak. The letter had specified the time her mother wanted to see her. She assumed everyone else had also been given a specific time to arrive. Virginia wasn’t about to wait. She wasn’t having it where her mother invited her favorites first. Virginia planned to be here to make sure she wasn’t left out. So she’d come right away—to her mother’s obvious irritation. Growing up on the ranch, she’d felt as if their mother had pitted them all against each other. The only time she’d felt any kind of bond with her siblings had been their mutual jealousy, distrust and dislike of their younger brother Trace—their mother’s unequivocal favorite. Now Virginia worried that just because two of her brothers had produced offspring—at least that she knew of—the Winchester fortune would be divided to include them. As the only daughter and oldest of Call and Pepper Winchester’s children, she deserved her fair share, and she said as much now to her mother. Pepper sighed from her chair nearby. “You always were the generous one. Of course you would be the first to arrive and completely ignore my instructions.” “I came at once because.” Her voice trailed off as she caught herself. “Because you thought I was dying.” The letter had clearly been a ruse to get them all back to the ranch. Virginia saw that now. Pepper Winchester didn’t even look ill. “The letter from the attorney …” She floundered. There had never been anything she could say that had pleased her mother. She’d been torn when she’d received the letter from the attorney on her mother’s behalf. Her mother was dying? The thought had come with mixed emotions. It was her mother. She should feel something other than contempt. Pepper had been a terrible mother: cold, unfeeling, unreachable. Virginia hadn’t heard a word from her in twenty-seven years. What was she supposed to feel for her mother? “I’m just asking that you be fair,” Virginia said. “I suppose you’d like me to cut out my grandchildren?” Like her mother had ever been a loving grandmother. “Those of us without children shouldn’t be penalized for it. It’s not like you would even recognize your grandsons if you passed them on the street,” Virginia pointed out. “I also have a granddaughter.” Virginia turned from the window to stare at her mother. “McCall. Trace’s daughter. She’s with the sheriff’s department. She’s the one who solved your brother’s murder and was almost killed doing so.” “McCall?” That bitch Ruby had named her kid after Virginia’s father? Why wasn’t Pepper having a conniption fit about this? She should have been livid. “Surely you aren’t going to take the word of that tramp that this young woman is a Winchester.” Her mother’s smile had a knife edge to it. “Oh, believe me, she’s a Winchester. But I knew the rest of you would require more than my word on it. I have the DNA test results, if you’d like to see them.” Virginia was furious. Another person after the Winchester fortune. No, not just another person. Trace’s daughter. Virginia felt sick. “So I have four grandchildren I don’t know,” her mother corrected with sarcasm. “And there could be more, couldn’t there?” Virginia swore silently. “Why did you even bother to get the rest of us home?” Pepper raised a brow. “I knew you’d want to see me one last time. Also I was sure you’d want to know the whole story about your brother Trace. You haven’t asked.” “What is there to ask?” Virginia shot back. “His killer is dead. It was in all the papers.” Trace was dead and buried. “I would think that you wouldn’t want to relive any of that awfulness.” She didn’t mention that Pepper had kept her other children away from Trace when he was young, as if afraid they might hurt him. Her protectiveness, along with her favoritism and love for Trace, was why they had no great love for their little brother. He’d come into their lives after they’d heard their mother couldn’t have anymore children. Trace became the miracle child. “You weren’t at his memorial service,” her mother said. Virginia couldn’t hold back the laugh. “Are you kidding? I didn’t think I was invited.” She started for the door, unable to take any more of this. “You should have warned us in the letter from your lawyer that this visit was really about Trace.” “Your brother was murdered! I would think something like that would give even you pause,” her mother said, making Virginia stop in midstep on the way to the door. Even her? As if she had no feelings. Her mother didn’t know. Her mother knew nothing about what she’d been through. As if Pepper was the only one who’d lost a child. “I was sorry to hear about it,” Virginia said, turning again to face her mother. “I already told you that, Mother. What about your children who are still alive? The ones you didn’t protect when they were young? Aren’t we deserving of your attention for once, given what you let happen to us?” The accusation hung in the air between them, never before spoken. Pepper’s expression didn’t change as she got to her feet. If Virginia hadn’t seen the slight trembling in her mother’s hand as she reached for her cane, she would have thought her words had fallen on deaf ears. “You are so transparent, Virginia,” her mother said, as she brushed past. “Don’t worry, dear. Your trip won’t be wasted.” MCCALL STOOD IN THE DUST, staring at the makeshift camp, hating the feeling this place gave her. Her deputies had gone only a few miles along the riverbank before they’d come across it and the tree where the limb had broken off and fallen into the water. This was where they had camped. From the footprints in the mud and dirt around the area, there’d been three of them. One man, two women. A breeze blew down the river, ruffling the dark green water. She caught the putrid odor of burned grease rising from the makeshift fire pit ringed in stones. Someone had recently cooked over the fire. A pile of crumpled, charred beer cans had been discarded in the flames and now lay charred black in the ash. Little chance of getting any prints off the cans, but still a deputy was preparing to bag them for the lab. “We followed the tire tracks up from the river through the trees,” one of the other deputies said, pointing to the way the campers had driven down the mountainside to the river. “They came in through a farmer’s posted gate on a road that hadn’t been used in some time.” “You think they lucked onto it or knew where they were going?” she asked. The narrow dirt road had led to this secluded spot, as if the driver of the vehicle had wanted privacy for what he had planned. If he’d just wanted to camp, he would have gone to the campground down by the bridge. “If he knew about the road, then that would mean he could be a local,” the deputy said. “I say he lucked onto the road, figuring it ended up at the river.” Like him, she didn’t want to believe whoever had hung two people was from the Whitehorse area. Or worse, someone they knew. Who really knew their neighbors and what went on behind closed doors? McCall had learned that there were people who lived hidden lives and would do anything to protect those secrets. She watched as a deputy took photographs of the dead tree with the broken branch at the edge of the bank, watched as another made plaster casts of both the tire prints and the footprints in the camp. “Sheriff?” She was starting to hate hearing that word. She turned to see the deputy with the camera pointing into the river just feet off the bank. “I think we found the missing car.” Chapter Four Jack listened to the soft lap of water, fighting the image of his “wife” neck deep in that big old tub just beyond the bathroom door. This definitely could have been a mistake. He felt a surge of warring emotions. A very male part of him wanted to protect her and had from the moment he’d stopped to pick her up on the highway. But an equally male part of him was stirred by a growing desire for her. Josey was sexy as hell. To make matters worse, there was a vulnerability in her beautiful green eyes that suckered him in. His taking a “wife” had been both brilliant and dangerous. The truth was he didn’t have any idea who this woman in the next room was. All he knew was that she was running from something. Why else agree to pretend to be his wife for a week? The thought worried him a little as he glanced toward the bathroom door. The sweet scent of lilac drifted out from behind the closed and locked door. But nothing could shut out the thought of her. After having her in his arms, it wasn’t that hard to picture her lush, lanky body in the steamy bathroom: the full breasts, the slim waist and hips, the long, sensual legs. The provocative image was almost his undoing. He groaned and headed for the door. He couldn’t let her distract him from his real reason for coming back to Montana and the Winchester Ranch—and that was impossible with her just feet away covered in bubbles. Opening their bedroom door, he headed down the hallway toward the opposite wing—the wing where he and his mother had lived twenty-seven years ago. Jack had expected to find his mother’s room changed. As he opened the door, he saw that it looked exactly as he remembered. The only new addition was the dust. His boots left prints as he crossed the floor and opened the window, needing to let some air into the room. The fresh air helped. He stood breathing it in, thinking of his mother. She’d been a small, blond woman who’d mistakenly fallen in love with a Winchester. She’d been happy here—and miserable. He hadn’t understood why until later, when he’d found out that Angus Winchester was his father. His jaw tightened as he considered the part his grandmother had played in destroying Angus Winchester, and that reminded him of the reception she’d given him earlier when he and Josey had arrived. He shouldn’t have been surprised. When he was a boy, Pepper hadn’t paid him any mind, as if he were invisible. They’d all lived in some part of the huge old lodge, but seldom crossed paths except at meals. It wasn’t that she’d disliked him. She just hadn’t cared one way or the other, and finding out he was Angus’s child hadn’t changed that. He stood for a moment in the room, promising his mother’s memory that he’d see that Pepper Winchester paid for all of it, every miserable day she’d spent in this house or on Earth. Then he closed the window and left the room, anxious to get back to Josey. Who knew what a woman on the run with a trail of secrets shadowing her might do. FROM THE TUB, Josey glanced over at her backpack resting on the floor of the bathroom. Just the sight of it turned her stomach, but she was pretty sure she’d heard Jack leave and she had no idea how long he might be gone. She quickly climbed from the tub and didn’t bother to towel off. Instead, she grabbed the robe he’d bought her and avoided looking in the mirror at her battered body. She also avoided thinking about how she’d gotten herself into such a mess. She was sick to death of all the “if only” thoughts. As the saying went, the die was cast. All she knew was that she couldn’t keep carrying her backpack around like a second skin. She’d seen the way Jack had eyed it. He was more than a little curious about what was so important in it that she wouldn’t let it out of her sight, and he’d eventually have a look. Which meant she had to find a safe place for its contents. She listened. No sound outside the bathroom door. Hefting the backpack, she cautiously opened the door a crack. The room appeared to be empty. She shoved the door open a little wider, not trusting that he hadn’t returned. No Jack. She wondered where he’d gone. She wondered a lot of things about him, but mostly why he’d wanted her to masquerade as his wife. He’d have to have seen she was in bad shape when he’d picked her up on the highway. So what was in it for him? After meeting his grandmother, Josey was pretty sure it couldn’t be money. She just hadn’t figured out what Jack was really after. Josey reminded herself it had nothing to do with her. All she had to do was play her part, hide out here on this isolated ranch until the heat died down. No one could find her here, right? She quickly surveyed the room. She couldn’t chance a hiding place outside this room for fear someone would find it. Across the room, she spotted the old armoire. The wardrobe was deep, and when she opened it she saw that it was filled with old clothing. Strange. Just like this huge master suite. Who had it belonged to? she wondered, as she dug out a space at the back, then opened her backpack. The gun lay on top. She grimaced at the sight of it. Picking it up, she stuck the weapon in the robe pocket. What lay beneath it was even more distressing. The money was in crisp new bills, bundled in stacks of hundreds. Over a million dollars splattered with blood. Hurriedly she dumped the bundles of cash into the back of the wardrobe, hating that she had to touch it. Blood money, she thought. But the only way to save her mother. And ultimately, maybe herself. She quickly covered it with some old clothing. Then, grabbing some of the clothing still on hangers, she stuffed the clothes into the backpack until it looked as it had. Straightening, she closed the wardrobe and looked around to make sure Jack wouldn’t notice anything amiss when he returned. Footsteps in the hallway. She started. Jack? Or someone else? As she rushed back into the bathroom, closed and locked the door, she stood for a moment trying to catch her breath and not cry. Seeing the gun and the bloody money had brought it all back. She heard the bedroom door open and close. “You all right in there?” Jack asked. Her heart pounded at how close a call that had been. Discarding the robe, she quickly stepped back into the tub. “Fine,” she called back, hating that she sounded breathless. “We’re going to be late for supper if you don’t move it.” The water was now lukewarm, the bubbles gone. She slid down into it anyway and picked up the soap. Her hands felt dirty after touching the money. Her whole body did. She scrubbed her hands, thinking of Lady Macbeth. Out, damned spots. Suddenly she remembered the gun she’d stuffed into the robe pocket. She rinsed, stepped from the tub and pulled the plug. The water began to drain noisily as she looked around for a good place to hide the weapon. There were few options. Opening a cabinet next to the sink, she shoved the gun behind a stack of towels on the bottom shelf. It would have to do for now until she could find a better place to hide it. She intended to keep the weapon where she could get to it—just in case she needed it. That, unfortunately, was a real possibility. WHEN JOSEY CAME OUT of the bathroom, she wore another of the Western shirts he’d bought her in town and the new pair of jeans that fit her curves to perfection. Jack had also picked her out a pair of Western boots, knowing she would need them to horseback-ride during their week on the ranch. Jack grinned, pleased with himself but wondering why she hadn’t worn the two sexy sundresses he’d picked out for her. He’d been looking forward to seeing her in one of them, and he said as much. “Maybe I’m a jeans and boots kind of girl,” she said. She looked more like a corporate kind of girl who wore business suits and high heels, he thought, and wondered where that had come from. “You look damned fine in whatever you wear.” She appeared embarrassed, which surprised him. The woman was beautiful. She must have had her share of compliments from men before. As he smiled at her, he couldn’t help wondering who she was—just as he had from the moment he’d spotted her on the highway with her thumb out. Josey carried herself in a way that said she wasn’t just smart and savvy, she was confident in who she was. This woman was the kind who would be missed. Someone would be looking for her. If they weren’t already. Jack warned himself not to get involved, then laughed to himself at how foolish that was. He could have just dropped her off beside the road. Or taken her as far as the town of Whitehorse, given her some money and washed his hands of her and her troubles. He should have. But something about her … Jack shook his head. He’d played hero and sold himself on the idea of a wife for this visit with his grandmother, and now he worried he’d bought himself more than he could handle as he looked at her. Her face was flushed from her bath, the scent of lilac wafting through the large bedroom. The Western shirt she’d chosen was a pale green check that was perfect for her coloring and went well with the scarf that she’d tied around her neck. The two scarves had been her idea. She looked sweet enough to eat and smelled heavenly. It was going to be hell being around her 24/7 without wanting more than a pretend marriage. Worse, their charade required a modicum of intimacy with her. As he led her down to dinner, he put his hand against the flat of her back and felt the heat of her skin through the thin cotton of her shirt. The touch burned him like a brand. She looked over at him. Her smile said she knew what he was up to. He smiled back. She had no idea. “Finally,” said a woman impatiently from the parlor where they’d been shown in earlier. Jack looked in to see his aunt Virginia, a glass of wine in her hand and a frown on her less than comely face. The years hadn’t been kind to her. The alcohol she’d apparently already consumed added to her overall disheveled look. Her lipstick was smeared, her linen dress was wrinkled from where she’d been perched on the arm of one of the leather chairs and there was a run in her stockings. “We eat at seven sharp,” she snapped, and pointed to the clock on the wall, which read several minutes after. Josey started to apologize, since it was her fault for staying in the tub so long, but the other woman in the room cut her off. “You remember Virginia,” Pepper Winchester said drily. “Of course, Virginia,” Jack said, extending his hand. His aunt gave him the weakest of handshakes. “Mother says you’re Angus’s son?” Like his grandmother, Virginia had also missed her brother’s funeral. Nothing like a close-knit family, Jack thought. Virginia was studying him as if under a microscope. Her sour expression said she saw no Winchester resemblance. “The nanny’s child.” She crinkled her nose in distaste. “Dear Angus,” she said, as if that explained it. Jack tried not to take offense, but it was hard given the reception he and his pretend wife were getting here. He reminded himself that this wasn’t a social visit. Once he got what he’d come for, he would never see any of them again. “This is my wife, Josey,” he said, glad as hell he hadn’t come here alone. All his misgivings earlier about bringing her were forgotten as he slipped his arm around her slim waist and pulled her close. JOSEY FELT JACK’S ARM tighten around her as Virginia gave her a barely perceptible handshake. It was hard not to see the resemblance between mother and daughter, Josey thought. Both women were tall, dark-haired and wore their bitterness on their faces. Virginia was broader, more matronly and perhaps more embittered as she narrowed her gaze at Josey, measuring her for a moment before dismissing her entirely. Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/b-j-daniels-3/hitched/?lfrom=688855901) на ЛитРес. Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.