Her Cowboy Avenger (15 page)

“Do you want me to take a look at it?” she asked.

He shook his head. “It’ll just be a bruise. I’ll live.”

It wasn’t as though she could insist. Pulling out one of the chairs, she sank into it, facing him. “Do you figure it was the same person who spray painted that word on the house last night?”

“Most likely.”

“But why? Is he just getting some kind of sick pleasure out of tormenting me?”

“It could be, especially if he really believes you killed Weston. Or maybe he doesn’t intend to let you get any rest until you confess.”

She exhaled sharply. “Well, that’s not going to happen, so I guess I won’t be getting much rest. Not that I have been anyway...” She compressed her lips together, wishing she hadn’t admitted that, though she was sure he would have guessed as much. Her current circumstances didn’t exactly lend themselves to a good night’s sleep, even beyond the impact he was having on her dreams.

“If he comes back, I’ll catch him,” Matt vowed. “He’s not going to get away with this.”

She believed he meant it, but after witnessing that brutal fight between the two men tonight, she was more concerned about the attacker catching
Matt.
It was a miracle he wasn’t hurt worse. She wasn’t sure they could count on that miracle to happen again.

“He came after you, you know. If he comes back, you could be hurt further.”

“I can take care of myself,” he said, and again it was all she could do not to roll her eyes.

Men.

She watched him shift in his chair, wincing again, and she nearly did the same.

“Sorry,” she murmured.

“Not your fault,” he gritted through his teeth.

“Isn’t it?” she said. “I’m sorry you got sucked into all of this—”

“I’m not,” he said firmly. The vehemence in his tone made her go still. She met his eyes.

“I’m not here because somebody sent me a newspaper article or you somehow made me. I’m here because I want to be.”

Her heart lodged in her throat at the intensity, the purpose, in both his response and the way he was looking at her. Staring into his eyes, the question she’d been unable to answer, the one she hadn’t dared ask, popped into her mouth, and this time she couldn’t stop it from coming out.

“Why?”

The single word hung there between them, heavy in the air.

He didn’t answer at first, his jaw tensing, simply looking at her, his dark eyes veiled.

“I mean, after all this time, after everything that happened...”

“Because I couldn’t let them do that to you,” he said roughly. “I couldn’t let them railroad you and send you to jail. You don’t deserve that.”

It was a reasonable answer. An honest answer, she was sure. But there was so much more unspoken about it, so much she could infer that she didn’t know if she should, no matter how much she suddenly wanted to.

“After the way things ended, I thought you hated me,” she said softly.

“I did,” he admitted. “For a while. Or at least I thought I did. But that was a long time ago.”

“Yes, it was.” Practically a whole other life. They’d changed so much since then. Yet sometimes when she looked at him, like now, she remembered as clearly as though it had happened moments ago, and nothing had changed at all.

Or maybe that wasn’t a memory, she admitted as she held his gaze, warmth flooding through her. Sometimes it seemed so vivid because it wasn’t being remembered, but experienced in the present.

Matt slowly lowered his eyes, looking hard at the tabletop. “Did you ever think what would have happened if you’d come with me?”

She paused again and hesitated, uncertain how much she wanted to admit. But she couldn’t lie, not to him, not at this moment. “I used to. A lot.”

“And what’d you think?”

She winced. “I thought...there was no point thinking about it. I couldn’t change it and do things differently, so thinking about what it would have been like wasn’t going to get me anywhere.”

He nodded. “That was probably smart.”

“What about you?” she asked. “Did you think about what might have been?”

He didn’t say anything for a long moment. “No,” he said.

She certainly understood. Sometimes it was just so much easier if they didn’t think about things. But she knew just as well that some things simply couldn’t be forgotten.

They sat in silence for a few moments until Matt finally said, “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“If things were really that bad here, why didn’t you leave?”

“You mean like my mother did?” She gave her head a firm shake. “I always knew that when I got married, it was going to be forever. I wasn’t going to bail if things got tough or were less than perfect. When I said those vows I meant them.”

“Even if it meant being unhappy?” he asked gently.

“Even then.” And there’d been the guilt, she acknowledged to herself. For having married him when she hadn’t loved him as much as she should have. For making a mistake that had caused them both such unhappiness. If he’d asked for a divorce, she would have given it to him without question, without asking for anything in return. But even if she had been willing to leave, it hadn’t seemed right that she be the one who made that call.

“What about him? It doesn’t sound like he was any happier. Did he ever say anything about ending the marriage?”

“No. He always had enough to worry about with the ranch. I’m sure our marriage was the least of his concerns.”

“Or maybe deep down he still loved you,” he said quietly.

“I don’t know. By the end, he sure didn’t act like it.” She shook her head again, not really wanting to think about Bobby for the time being. “What about you? Eight years is a long time. You must have had somebody serious in your life.”

His whole body seemed to tense, then he shook his head once. “Nope.”

She knew she should probably leave it alone. Of all people in the world, it was likely her business least of all. But she couldn’t manage to keep from pressing, wanting to know, needing the answer. “You didn’t want that?”

“Nope,” he repeated.

She didn’t like thinking of him alone. She wasn’t naive enough to think he’d been completely without female company in those years, but there was a big difference between sex and having a meaningful relationship with someone. And he was as alone as he’d ever been.

She couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt, knowing that she must have played a part in that. Of course his childhood had left scars that had never quite healed. The difference was, despite what he’d been through, there’d still been hope for him. He’d opened up to her, opened his heart and soul to someone for the first time, trusted her.

Loved her.

And she’d thrown it back in his face.

She winced at the idea. It wasn’t what she’d intended, but she’d known even back then it was how he would take it.

Maybe it was something most people would have gotten over, recovered from, over the years. But not him. Even in those early days, when they were happy from the start, he hadn’t revealed his deepest self to her. It had taken months, until right before the end, before he’d let the walls down completely. It didn’t surprise her he hadn’t let down those walls again, had protected himself this strongly against getting hurt again. But knowing it was true didn’t make her happy.

“What’s your life like in New Mexico?” she asked, hoping to hear something happier.

“Good.”

She almost smiled. He was still as forthcoming as ever. “So you’re working on a ranch?”

He nodded. “I’m the foreman on a cattle operation out there. A guy I worked with a few years ago hired me on when he bought his own place.”

“And you’re happy there?”

“Pretty much,” he conceded after a while.

“But not entirely?” she asked carefully.

Again he fell quiet for a minute, this silence lasting longer than the last. “The Triple C’s a good place, and Cade and Piper are good people. I know I have a place there as long as I want it. I’ve just been thinking lately about how long I want that to be. They just got married, and they’re settling down and making all these plans. It’s got me considering what I want to do. I think every man thinks about wanting something of his own someday. Maybe my own place. Maybe something else. I don’t know.”

It seemed some things hadn’t changed, she acknowledged. His life wasn’t completely settled and his future was unknown, just as it had been before. The difference was that this time his words inspired no unease in her. Maybe it was because she was different, old enough to know by now there was no certainty in this life. Maybe it was he who was different. He wasn’t that young man finding his way in the world. There was something so solid about him, so strong. Everything about him spoke of a man capable of making his own way and getting things done. She had no doubt he’d decide what he wanted and get it.

Suddenly she wished she hadn’t asked. Talking about the future just reminded her how uncertain her own was, and how whatever future he had wouldn’t have her in it.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” she said, pushing to her feet. “It’s getting late. We should probably try to get some sleep.”

“Good idea.”

Together they made their way to the front door. She was about to open it when she froze. “Do you think he’ll come back? Or that he’s still out there?”

“I doubt he’d come back,” Matt said. “I think I got in enough solid shots that he should be nursing his wounds somewhere if he left. And he should be long gone by now.”

Pulling the door open, she scanned the scene beyond, unconvinced.

An idea suddenly hit her. He should move into the house. He would be safe here. They both would be safe here, in this place where she hadn’t felt truly safe from the moment she’d come home to find her husband shot dead in his study.

More important than her safety, she needed him nearby.

Needed to know he was safe.

The idea was so foolish she instantly rejected it. It would be a huge mistake. She could barely sit at the same table with him without feeling...something, something unsettling and confusing.

And exciting.

She kept her mouth shut. He moved past her and stepped outside. “Good night,” he said.

“Good night,” she echoed. She watched him go, tracking his progress the whole way, unable to take her eyes from the broad shoulders, the wide back and slim hips. In the yard he bent to pick up something from the ground. The tire iron, she thought with a shudder, the memory of just how close it had come to his head returning to her. So close. Too close. He turned back slightly and waved it at her, and she smiled. At least he was the one with the tire iron now. If the intruder was still around and tried coming at him, Matt would have the advantage.

She continued to watch him go until he was long out of sight, a solitary figure walking off into the moonlight, her stomach doing a little flip. And knew that everything she was feeling was new, not a memory. A response to the man he was, not the man he’d been.

The man she still ached for after all these years.

Chapter Twelve

As expected, Matt woke up sore the next morning. When he pushed himself up from the bed, his body seemed to scream in protest, every bone aching.

He swore under his breath, vowing once again that he was going to take down the intruder the next time he showed up around here.

Dressing quickly, he was just stepping out of the bunkhouse when a ringing erupted from his pocket. He fished out his phone and checked the screen.

Pam.

“Hey there.”

A beat of silence echoed over the line. “You don’t sound so good,” she noted.

“Rough night,” he muttered, starting toward the house.

“Hmm. Should I even ask how it’s going, then? Any progress?”

“Not really,” he said, unable to keep the frustration from his voice. “We’ve been asking questions, but mostly running into dead ends.”

“Has your friend been arrested?”

“No.”
Not yet.

“Well, that’s something at least. Things could be worse.”

Matt knew she was right. He didn’t even want to think about how much worse they could get. “You find anything on your end?”

“First, I got a list of highly regarded defense attorneys I can send you so you’ll have them if the time comes you need them.”

“Thanks,” he said, inspiration striking. “I hate to ask this, but can you find the names of a few attorneys who handle estates and inheritance issues, too? We’re having some issues with the lawyer in charge of Weston’s estate. He’s Weston’s cousin and is making things difficult for Elena. I’d like to find out what her options are.”

Pam was quiet for a moment. “His cousin, huh? Jack Landry? About that...”

Matt could practically hear her mind working. “What is it?”

“When his name came up as Weston’s only other possible heir I thought I’d do some research into Texas state inheritance law. In Texas, being convicted of killing someone doesn’t necessarily stop the killer from inheriting. But if there are other possible heirs, they can file suit and make a claim on the estate to prevent the killer from inheriting. In that case it would go to them.”

Matt had no trouble following where she was going. “Which means if Elena is found guilty of killing Bobby, Landry can claim the ranch.”

That certainly could explain why he was so determined to see her locked up. And if he was pushing this hard to make it possible for him to inherit, who knew what else he might have done to get the ranch.

He should have thought of it sooner. “Thanks, Pam, that’s a big help.”

“There’s one more thing.” She paused for a beat. “I also did the search you asked for on Teresa Reyes.”

His pulse kicked up in anticipation. “Did you find her?”

“Nope. Not a trace in the past twenty-five years.”

He didn’t know which answer he’d been hoping for, but as soon as he heard Pam’s answer his heart dropped. “Does that mean what I think it does?”

“Most likely,” Pam said bluntly. “She’s either done a perfect job covering her tracks—something I have a hard time believing she could have done without a lot of help—or she’s not alive and hasn’t been for the past twenty-five years.”