Dead Man's Bluff (2 page)

He had no answer. Drew Mackenzie was rendered speechless and watched as Jill
crossed the room to the door. She paused having one final thing to say to him.
He had no idea how much what she was about to say would affect him. “If someone
loved me that much I’d want to know, wouldn’t you?” She slipped through the
door and was gone.

Drew stood there for a moment. What just happened? Thirty minutes ago he’d been
well on his way to having a pleasant morning, and now he was alone. He reached
for the bottle, and refilled the mug. Pressing the rim of the mug to his lips
he chugged down the liquor, waiting for the numbness to kick in. It was then
that his gaze shifted to it, the oatmeal colored envelope peeking out of the
stack of junk mail meant to be thrown in the trash. He sifted the envelope out
of the stack, and read the gold embossed lettering on the front thinking his
neighbor’s mail must have gotten mixed in with his again.
No. It was addressed to Drew Mackenzie.

He ripped the envelope open, and pulled out the photo inside.
Everything inside of him was thrown off balance: his heart, his breathing, the
amount of times he tried to swallow, but couldn’t past the lump that had formed
at the base of his throat. Cold sweats broke out on his body. He was suddenly nauseated.
The photo wouldn’t hold still in his shaking hand. He found no humor in
someone’s sick joke. He flipped the photo over expecting to find some bullshit writing.
The back was blank. There was nothing else inside the envelope, but the photo.
Who the hell sent it?
He intended to find out. ♠

Two

She was not going
back
to Boonville Arkansas.

Was the man insane?

“How can you even ask me with a straight face after what you did?”
Megan narrowed her green eyes on Paul Stratford, the keen business man,
reclined slightly in his leather chair. He sat behind his monstrous cherry desk
his fingers forming a steeple.

He shrugged a shoulder. “I thought you and I had moved past that
whole ordeal. Guess you’re still harboring sore feelings?”

Sore
feelings? Yes. The man
was
insane. He’d finally cracked.
She snapped, “You bet a man his son couldn’t have sex with me! You don’t ‘move
past’ something like that. I some-what forgave you…for my mother’s sake and I
some-what understand this insane need of yours to put Mackenzie in his place.
He has that effect on people. But…” She growled, “I will never completely
forgive you.”

The phone on his desk buzzed, lit buttons flickered. “Sorry. Hold
on a second Megan.” He went to stretch for the button…

Her green eyes clouded with anger. “Don’t you dare touch that damn
button! I’m not playing your games anymore. Georgia can wait!”

He chuckled. “I can see you’re not the same naïve girl. Bravo.”

“Give me one good reason I should do anything for you?”

“That’s just it. This has nothing to do with me. Well okay, maybe
it has a little to do with me.” He leveled her with distant eyes. “I’ve gotten
myself in a little financial crisis, a minor hiccup. It seems to be in my best
interest to unload the ranch as quickly as possible. You know how I feel about
that place, since my brother…” he actually choked on the last part.

She went to stand. “Sorry, but none of this is my problem.”

He leaned forward. “You’re right. I don’t know what I was
thinking…I guess, I thought you’d grown to care about the people there and
would want to make sure the
right
person purchased the property. My
mistake. I shouldn’t have asked.”

He was manipulating her, and doing it well. What would it cost her:
a week, a couple at most? If she was honest with herself…she needed this
closure. She needed to put the past and the ranch behind her so she could move
on without any guilt or regret. There was also Birdie, Ms. Susan, Emma, and
Griffin to think about. Tink would want her to see that they were okay. She
sighed, easing back down into the chair. “Okay, you win. I’ll handle it, but
I’m not doing it for you.”

“I know.”

As soon as Megan left the office, Paul Stratford reached for his
cell. “She agreed,” he ground out.

Mackenzie’s crude laughter came from the other end. “Of course she
did. You’re a persuasive man. Don’t worry old friend you can’t help your lack
of willpower to fight temptation. Why beat yourself up over it?”

Stratford ground the back of his teeth together. “One day you’re
going to die a lonely man.”

“So melodramatic…” Mackenzie was babbling right as Stratford ended
the call. 

Stratford planted his elbows on the desk releasing all the air in
his lungs as he dragged a hand down his face. If this didn’t end well, his wife
was going to snip off his nuts.
♠

Three

Drew didn’t knock. He just stormed through the office door, went straight for
the desk, and tossed the photo down on top of the accounting books open in
front of Lillian. “Mind telling me what this is?”
She reached out, picked up the photo giving most of her attention to the shape
of the guy with his hands braced on her desk. His sharp jawline flexed under
the skin and the smell coming from his direction said he’d been drinking.
Recently. “Drew, you look like shit. What’s this about?”
“You tell me. What kind of game are you playing?”
Her eyes finally settled on the photo in question and some display of emotion
passed over her expression, a softening only a mother could have. She sighed
and removed the turquoise-colored reading glasses that matched the shade of her
eyes, tossed them on top of the opened books. “Okay, it’s a photo of my Meg
being fitted for her wedding dress. So?” Her lips twitched finding some humor
in his discomfort. “She is going to make a beautiful bride, isn't she?”
Having no patience what-so-ever for her games he reached across the desk and
plucked the picture from her fingertips. “I know who it is. How did it end up
in my mailbox? Is this you and your daughters attempt to get in one final dig?”
She honestly appeared hurt by his accusation. “Wait, do you think I sent this
to you.”
“Didn’t you?”
“Absolutely not.”
Some of the tension left his shoulders. “Are you lying?”
“No Drew, lying is something I’ve never been fond of.”

“It
had to be your husband then?”

She
shook her head. “No. He’s promised never to interfere again.”

“And
you believed him?” Drew shook his head, “I’m disappointed…I thought you of all
people understood a man will say anything when he’s been caught.”

“I
do. But I also know how to put the fear of God into a man. My husband knows
once I get it in my head to leave him, there will be nothing he can say to
change my mind. I don’t think he wants that to happen.”

He
wasn’t so sure Stratford was so easily controlled, but it was true, Lillian was
the kind of woman who made a decision and stuck to it…just like her daughter. He
couldn’t avoid glancing down at the photo clutched in his grip: Megan in white,
the sight still caused a sharp pain in his chest. She was beautiful like
always, but if he was being completely honest there was something different
about her. First: her hair was significantly shorter than he’d remembered it,
chin length now. Second: the dress she was wearing was plain with a high neck
showing very little flesh, flesh he happened to know was flawless since he’d
once explored every inch of her. All of these were minor details, what grabbed
his attention the most was her eyes. Where was the restless fire he’d seen
blazing so often in them? She appeared peaceful. Content. It was as if she’d
already conformed to playing the perfect wife.
He backed his way into the leather chair in front of the desk. His gaze never
left the photo as he sat. The woman he remembered no longer existed? He had
lost her for good.
“It’s really over,” the words were too low to be heard by anyone other than
him.
“Drew, are you okay?”
“Yeah, I feel like a jackass,” he muttered.
“You should. I have to ask, does it honestly matter?”
“I’m sorry… does what matter?” In a daze his gaze lifted from the photo to find
Lillian studying him.
She settled back in her chair, crossed her arms over her chest, and leveled him
with a look. A look he was certain she directed at her husband whenever he screwed
up, which was probably often. She’d known Drew since he was ten, knew things
about him even his own father didn’t know. Other than Megan, she was the only
person he’d ever allowed in, but dammit, she was staring at him as if he was a
new species of asshole. “I don’t get it. You’ve screwed enough women since
yours and Megan’s break up to put even your father’s reputation to shame, then
you come barging into my office like a jealous, lovesick maniac. Let’s get one
thing straight, Megan doesn’t owe you any loyalty, because you’ve never showed
any. You hurt her deeply and it took her a long time to move past it.”
What could he say? Lillian was always one to cut through all the bullshit. He
asked, “Is she happy?”
“Yes, after she got over the initial shock of hearing what a manwhore you’d
become, she’s very happy. Question is…are you?”
“I’m not sure I’m capable of happy. Here…” He stood and handed Lillian the
photo. No way in hell was he going to keep it as a reminder. “…tell her I said
congratulations.”
He was halfway to the door when her words stopped him. “I could do dinner next
week at our usual café. Does that work for you?” She had already slid back on
her glasses and didn’t even take the time to glance up from her books.

Opening the office door, he grinned. “Does this mean I’ve been forgiven?”
There was no denying the slight lift at the corner of her mouth as she began
penning in numbers on the pages. “Let’s just say I think you could benefit
greatly from the insight of a sensible woman.”
Honest, deep laughter came from his chest. “Okay then, next week it is.” ♠

 Four

Drew
was fourteen years old when he was first introduced to what it meant to be a
Mackenzie. The wind blew sheets of rain against the windows in the den,
everything outside gray. It was evening and daylight escaped quickly from the
room.  Slumped down on the sofa, his head resting on the back cushion, the
television on, Drew watched with brown eyes that absorbed everything as water
trailed down the glass, each new drop deciding a different path. He’d come home
from school, showered, pulled on a pair of black gym shorts and was watching
the rain wondering what his life would have been like if his mother had taken
him with her.

Even
over the steady drum of the rain he heard light footsteps. He glanced over just
in time to see his father’s latest one-night-stand approaching in a long gray
T-shirt and the first thought he had was he hoped like hell she was wearing
panties under the shirt hugging her thighs.

“Mind
if I join you?” The woman didn’t wait for an answer before she collapsed down
on the sofa next to him and lit a cigarette. She dragged an ashtray over glass
to the edge of the coffee table and settled in close to his side. Red nails
flashed against a white filter as she inhaled.  Smoke clouded the air in front
of his face. “Your father says I need to be nice to you.”

Another
drag.                                          

More
smoke.

He
could feel her eyes on him and pretended to be more interested in what was on
the television than her. The curves of her body pressed into him. He could
smell his father’s Bourbon on her. His heart raced in his chest as he swallowed
hard wishing more than anything he would have gone somewhere else after school.

His
right hand was moved from his lap to the inside of her thigh, and then higher
until his fingers confirmed that he rarely got what he hoped for. She wasn’t
wearing any panties. He jerked his hand back to his lap, his eyes locking with
hers.

Laughter
filled the space between them. “Geez relax kid. He was right. You ain’t ever
done this before, have you?” One last hit off the cigarette and she crushed it
out in the ashtray. Instantly she moved from the couch to the floor on her
knees, she separated his legs and inched her way between them. A tip of her red
nail started at the base of his throat making a slow trail down the center of
his chest, lower to the top of the elastic band of his shorts.

He
swallowed hard, feeling tears gather in his eyes. Dammit, he would not be a
baby. He would not cry. But shit, he wanted to. Why was his body responding to
her? Why did it feel so good? His gaze followed her fingers as she ran a
fingertip over his tight lower stomach, under the band of his shorts. The light
touch caused chills to rise on his flesh and his mind to go places it should
not be going. Her hand found his semi-hard erection. She smiled, red lipstick
showing on her front teeth. “See, I’m not so bad. Relax.”