Fearless: Complicated Creatures Part Three (36 page)

Wes shut off his phone’s screen just as Carey stepped out of the bedroom.

“Hey, sorry about this—but I’ve got to cut this short,” he told Wes, chagrined. “Something’s come up.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Wes replied casually, standing. “I’ll keep looking into Brandt.”

Carey nodded distractedly as he slipped his suit jacket back on.

“Can you ask your dad about Sakurai next time you talk to him?” Wes asked.

“Yeah.”

As soon as Carey left, Wes was on the phone to his assistant, getting her to set up an interview with Travis Brandt under the guise of a ‘Most Powerful Men Under Forty’ article for
Texas Monthly
. A proud blue blood like Brandt would eat that right up. Wes told her to use Chris’s name to get his foot in the door. Nobody said no to being interviewed by a former Dallas Cowboy either. That just wasn’t done.

Wes stared unseeingly at the Picasso when he was done. Sam wouldn’t leave the ranch or see him again unless she had good reason to, so all he had to do was give her good reason. Which meant Wes had to ID her father’s killer first—before Jack Roman beat him to it.

*

April—Evening

Wyatt Ranch, Texas

J A C K

After a little
cajoling and a sworn promise to share his family’s
Saltimbocca alla Romana
recipe, Jack unseated Alejandro as Hannah’s sous chef for the evening, as she prepared roasted peppers stuffed with goat cheese, braised pork belly
vin cotto
with pickled vegetables and cornmeal fried okra. It was just as well; Alejandro had been sequestered in the library with Samantha for hours, and Jack welcomed the distraction of getting to know Hannah while helping her prepare sautéed king salmon atop a bed of nettles, morel mushrooms, shallots, and garlic.

“World-class chefs could do with a few lessons from you, Hannah,” Jack told her earnestly as he prepped a spinach salad straight out of her garden with sliced granny smith apples, toasted pistachios, and a chili and garlic olive oil dressing he hoped she’d approve of.

“I cook for cowboys who’d be happy eating burgers and meatloaf every day,” she said with a smile. “I learned a long time ago if I wanted to stay sane on this farm, I’d have to expand their palettes and challenge my imagination.”

“What was Samantha’s favorite food growing up?” he asked, grating the aged Parmesan over the salad.

Hannah laughed. “Lord, that girl wasn’t any better than any of the guys. She’d have been happy eating beef jerky and Hostess cupcakes if I’d let her get away with it.” Her smile was warm. “I remember the first time she tried caviar at one of her father’s fancy cocktail parties, she was horrified he had the caterers serving what she thought was ‘fish bait.’”

“No kidding?”

“I think those years of eating MREs in the military did her in, though,” Hannah confided. “She came willing to eat anything as long as it wasn’t served in a waterproof pouch.”

“Can’t blame her there. Eight years of military food—” Jack shuddered at the thought. “I’m a self-admitted food snob. Learning to cook like a real Italian was a requisite thing in my family. If we didn’t help cook, we didn’t eat. Both my parents worked full-time jobs, but dinnertime was sacred. My mother always had a saying: ‘
Mangiare per vivere e non vivere per mangiare.
’”

Her eyes sparked with interest. “What does it mean?”

“‘Eat to live and don’t live to eat,’” Jack translated, tossing the pistachios onto the salad.

“That’s lovely.”

Jack grinned. “It is, isn’t it?”

Hannah took a slow sip of her iced tea, considering him with a thoughtful expression. “You’re probably good for Sammy, Jack. She was raised in tall cotton, but she’s only just learning to enjoy the finer things in life—the kind of things money just can’t buy.”

And that succinct observation made him think as they finished preparing dinner, the kitchen rich with the scent of cooked food and spices. Being at the ranch for even a modicum of hours, Jack could see more where Samantha got her salt-of-the-earth style. Her family lived off the land, woke up at the crack of dawn to tend to the hard work of raising cattle, and for all their outrageous wealth, they conducted their lives rather modestly. The house she was raised in was lovely, but far from ostentatious. Jack had watched her talking to the ranch hands like old friends, and Grant and Hannah were certainly as regular as folks could get, despite running one of the biggest ranches in the state of Texas.

For the first time, Jack understood how outlandish the purchase of the penthouse in Chicago had been for Samantha. He recalled eating stew with her in her sparsely furnished place, her thanking him for selling it to her. He got now why she’d waited so long to purchase her first home away from Texas.

Jack’s musings were interrupted by the sound of a chopper approaching. He frowned, wiping his hands on a dish towel as he stepped toward the window.

“Must be Carey coming to dinner,” Hannah remarked, not bothering to turn from the stove. “Can you help me set the table? Guess it’ll be six tonight.”

As Jack set the large wooden table in the kitchen, he watched out the window while ranch hands lit up a space in the darkening field near the house with powerful spotlights. A Sikorsky helicopter emblazoned with the Wyatt corporate logo spun and hovered over the glowing circle, landing nimbly in the rippling grass. Carey bounded out of the chopper as the rotors slowed, waving to the hands before loping toward the house. He burst through the kitchen door within seconds, bristling with energy as he headed straight for his mother, smacking a loud kiss on her cheek before he even noticed Jack.

“Whoa—hey there, Jack. It’s good to see you,” Carey said with a grin. “Mom already putting you to work?”

“I volunteered gladly,” Jack replied, shaking his hand. “I’m hoping she’ll put in a good word for me with Samantha in exchange for my indentured servitude.”

Carey chuckled. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

“Oh, stop,” Hannah smacked his shoulder lightly. “Sam and Alejo are in the library, and your dad’s washing up. Can you go let them know dinner’s ready?”

“Sure thing, Mama,” he said agreeably before heading down the hall shouting in a booming voice, “Chow’s on! Come and get it!”

Hannah sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes. “Might as well give that boy a cowbell,” she said under her breath, making Jack smile.

Dinner was a remarkably casual and lighthearted affair, with Hannah and Grant at either end of the kitchen table while Jack and Alejandro sat across from Samantha and Carey. Carey entertained them with stories about his day at Wyatt Petroleum, and Grant talked about the two new calves the hands had helped birth. Jack watched Samantha surreptitiously as she pushed the food around her plate, eating just enough to not draw attention to herself. She smiled at the right points and interjected here and there, but it was obvious she was distracted.

Alejandro remained largely silent beside him, preoccupied as well, only speaking when spoken to. He was polite, but distant, and knew with certainty whatever was going on with Samantha, Alejandro knew about it, like they were tethered together by the same wire.

“Alright, you two look like you’ve got your ox stuck in a ditch, and Carey’s going on and on like he’s fixin’ to talk the legs off a chair covering for you two,” Grant said after a moment, his gaze swinging from Samantha to Alejandro then Carey in a sharp triangle. “Better come out with it. What’s going on?”

Everyone looked to Samantha. She fiddled briefly with her fork before putting it down.

“We think we’ve got a lead that could yield Lightner,” she told him calmly.

A frisson of excited relief went down Jack’s spine. He unconsciously sat forward. “Where?”

Her eyes flicked to him, but her lips compressed.

“Then why do you look like we just buried the dog?” Grant pressed.

“I’d like you and Aunt Hannah to leave the ranch. Just for a little bit,” she told them.

“Just until we get this guy, Dad,” Carey clarified quickly.

“Oh hell, is that all?” Grant replied after a moment, digging back into his food like nothing had happened. “Thought you were going to tell me something really worrying, like Jerry Jones had kicked the bucket or something.”

Jack blinked, unclear on what was happening. You could cut the tension in the kitchen with a knife, but Grant looked like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Samantha leaned her arms on the table, sitting forward. “It’s not safe, Uncle Grant. I can’t keep you safe if you stay at the ranch.”

Grant leaned back, chewing slowly as he considered her. “You got it ass backwards, Sammy girl. We’re protecting
you.
”

“Dad—” Carey started.

Grant held up a hand the size of a bear paw. “Son, I get why you’d show up to back Sammy’s play, but there isn’t a snowflake’s chance in hell your mama and I are leaving you to deal with whatever storm’s coming.”

Hannah reached for Samantha’s hand, clasping it tightly. “He’s right, honey. Whatever’s happening is gonna come, either way. We’re not running from anything. That’s not how we live.”

“Let me help you,
tesoro
,” Jack offered, leaning in. “What do you need?”

“I need you to leave,” Samantha responded flatly. “All of you.”

“Are you leaving?” His gaze met Alejandro’s. The tension emanating from him was palpable.

“No, I’m not leaving,” Samantha said finally, her voice like granite. Alejandro and Carey didn’t say anything, though a muscle ticked in Alejandro’s jaw. They were both soldiers to the end—but they were Samantha’s soldiers. What she said went. Even if they didn’t agree with it.

“Why not?” Jack questioned tightly. “If you suspect for one moment that he’s coming after you here, why the hell would you stay?”

“Because I’m too big a target,” Samantha answered calmly. “And thanks to your hotheaded heroics, so are you, Jack. You stole Lightner’s company from him even though I deliberately told you
not
to get involved. Now as long as he walks this earth, you and I will forever be targets. And that includes everyone we love—everything we care about—they’re all at risk.” She met her aunt’s eyes. “That’s why I’m asking you—no,” she took a breath. “Aunt Hannah and Uncle Grant, I’m
begging
you—please go.”

“No.” Grant answered just as calmly. “Pass the okra.”

“Dad, we’re just trying to look after you—” Carey started.

Grant stopped him before he could say anything else. “Son, that’s my line, and that’s my job. Been that way since before you were born. We’re armed to the teeth here, and if I know you and Sammy, you have a plan in place to head this sonofabitch off at the pass.”

“We do, but—”

“Alejandro, you want to weigh in here?” Grant asked casually, like they were discussing the cost of steer.

But Alejo wasn’t a fool. “No, sir.”

“I take it you three have talked this situation through in great detail?” Grant continued to probe.

“Yes, sir.”

Grant turned to Carey. “I appreciate that you’ve come here to whisk your mama and me away, but this is our land and you’re my kin. That makes you my responsibility. And while you two are running an offensive strategy, I’m running defense as long as you’re here. So just everyone calm the hell down and someone please pass me the damn okra.”

There was a moment of sullen stillness as Carey and Samantha looked at each other, relaying the silent messages of a language spoken between siblings and partners.

Jack wanted to say something, but he knew it wasn’t his place. He was a guest here, and he’d forced his way in at that. He still had his half of the bargain to deliver with information about her father, and Samantha had a point: he had to begrudgingly accept his role in exacerbating the problem when he bought out Leviathan.

Whether or not Lightner came to Wyatt Ranch was moot. Jack and Samantha held vast empires. Lightner could choose to attack in any place, at any time. The best defense was offense on this one, and Jack had to trust that she had a solid strategy in place, even if he didn’t like betting the big blind.

Samantha picked up the serving bowl of fried okra and passed it to Carey. He held it in his hands a moment in implied acquiescence before passing it to his father.

“Here you go, Dad.”

“Thank you, son.”

Hannah cleared her throat, switching the conversation cheerfully. “So we’re hosting the DAR luncheon at Wyatt Towers Sunday in preparation for the charity gala. Will you still be able to come with me, Sammy?”

Carey made a small choking sound, and Samantha just about glared a hole through him.

“What charity gala, Hannah?” Jack asked politely, wondering at Samantha’s visible reticence.

Hannah smiled indulgently. “Every year the Wyatt Foundation hosts a gala and auction to raise money for the VA and Texas Children’s Hospital. I chair the foundation.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Jack told her honestly.

“Jack hosts a charity gala every year too,” Carey told his mother.

“You do?” she asked, eyes sparkling. “What do you support?”

“Cancer research.” Jack nodded. “In my Uncle Gianni’s honor,” he added, looking at Samantha. He recalled standing outside with her the night of the charity event, her blue dress rippling in the breeze as he tried to tease out her secrets. He’d been with another woman at the time, but Samantha looked like a goddess sent just to drive him to madness. That might very well have been the night he’d fallen in love with her. It just took him a moment to realize it.