Lone Star Wedding (20 page)

He smelled a double cross. Sophia had some explaining to do. And Lily had better not get in the way.

Clint cast another look around the corner. Lily had been joined by several other people. When they headed for a banquet room boasting a sign for some stupid charity or other, he took his first easy breath in several minutes. She wasn't here to make trouble for him. It was just a coincidence. Maybe things would work out yet.

He got into an empty elevator and rode it up to the top floor. He was agitated. Fidgety. He needed a cigarette. Or better yet, some chew. There was only one thing that calmed his nerves as good as either of those. Patting his chest pocket where a flask of whiskey rested, he thought, make that two things. He'd taken a good, healthy swig before he'd arrived at the hotel. As soon as he and Sophia
took care of business, he planned to partake in the second activity with gusto.

He stopped at the door to Sophia's suite. He scowled. He swore he could smell her expensive perfume through the thick door. Raising his gloved fist, he knocked once.

He could tell she was in a bitchy mood the instant she opened the door. “What took you so long?” she practically raged.

God, he was so sick of her whining and complaining and bitching. The things a man had to put up with for a good lay.

He hung the Do Not Disturb sign on the outside of the door, then briskly turned the lock. Deciding to see if she would admit to the larger settlement, he removed his cowboy hat, hiked up his belt slightly, and stared directly into her big blue eyes. “It looks like another Fortune of Texas is coming out ahead while the rest of us eat dirt.”

She spun around, her filmy negligee a pink cloud behind her. “I just can't take the waiting any longer, Clint. I have needs. Look at my hands.” She held one up for him to see. “My nails are a mess. And my wardrobe is sorely lacking. You and I both know I deserve so much more for the things I've had to endure, but what's a girl to do? Surely, I'll starve on the pittance I'm being forced to accept.”

Blatant lies.

Clint wasn't surprised. He was sickened. It roiled in his gut, burning like bile. He squeezed his hands into fists at his sides, staring at the woman who both repulsed him and stirred his sexual juices.

She spent more on manicures than he did on food for a month. Once, after coming out of a rage, she'd kissed him on the mouth at the same time she'd raked her fingernails down his back. He had the scars to prove it. That was all
right. Clint didn't mind pain, just so long as he got his release.

He strode closer, circling, watching, waiting. “Do you take me for a fool, Sophia?”

She spun around so fast her breasts practically spilled over the top of her nightgown, yet not a lock of her strawberry-blond hair moved out of place. Her eyes flashed dramatically. “Whatever do you mean, Clint?”

Her hand fluttered to her chest. Clint's shot out, encircling it, twisting it slightly. “I heard an interesting conversation between Ryan and his attorney this afternoon.”

She paled, and for a moment he felt big and victorious. But then two patches of red stained her cheeks and her lush, pink lips thinned with derision.

“That was unfortunate. So you know. So what?”

He took an ominous step closer. “So you'd better give me half, that's what.”

She spun away from him. He let her go. For now.

“I don't need you anymore. And I've decided not to give you anything. Not a bloody cent. Do you hear me?”

Fury almost choked him. This was worse than he'd thought, worse, almost, than the day his father had sold the ranch to Kingston Fortune when Clint had been but a young boy.

Hatred roiled up inside him. “Oh, yes, you will. You'll give me everything I have coming.”

She laughed. “I don't owe you anything. You, with your pointy-toed cowboy boots and those idiotic leather gloves you wear even in the summer. You think you're smart. Worse, you think you're sexy. Why, you're just a big, dumb cowboy who couldn't find the john without a map. You're not even any good in bed.”

Resentment roiled up inside him, pounding in his ears like the ocean surf in a raging storm. She must have seen
the look in his eyes, because for the first time he saw fear in her expression.

“Get out of here. Now.” She reached for the phone. “Or I'll call security.”

His hand shot out, striking her, the impact knocking her backward onto the bed. It stunned Clint, but Sophia screamed. Clint's eyes grew large, her scream piercing his eardrums. He stared at the gaping black hole that was her mouth.

His head pounded, his heartbeat thundered. He had to stop her. He had to stop the noise. It hurt his ears. It hurt his head. It hurt his entire body.

He grabbed a large pillow, pressed it over her face.

She went quiet for a moment. And he started to release the pressure.

She screamed again, and started to struggle. He pressed harder, his breathing ragged, pain piercing his skull.

Sometime later, he realized the screaming had stopped. Sophia lay perfectly still, one leg on the bed, one flung over the side.

He raised the pillow. And what he saw made him recoil.

His heart thundered anew, and he began to pace. Back and forth and back and forth. Thinking.

Thinking.

He'd spent most of his life thinking. Planning.

He reached into his pocket for a packet of chewing tobacco. His fingers came into contact with the ruby and diamond tennis bracelet.

He stared at the lights reflecting off the gems. So beautiful, he thought. A lethal calmness settled over him.

No one had seen him tonight—at least, no one who would recognize him.

His gaze lowered to his gloved hands. Wearing gloves was something he'd picked up from his father. What do
ya know? He'd gotten something worthwhile from his old man, after all.

Calm now, his thoughts came, one at a time, in perfect order. He knew what he had to do.

He replaced the phone in its base, straightened the room slightly, being careful to avert his eyes from the bed. His hand was empty when he let himself out of Sophia's room. If anyone had been looking, they would have seen his cold-eyed smile.

 

Parker looked over the documents spread neatly on his large desk. He and Dale had gone over everything with a fine-tooth comb. Sophia's attorneys had run out of loopholes, had used up every strategy they could think of to prolong the inevitable. This was it. Sophia had signed on the dotted line. As far as Parker was concerned, she was getting a hell of a lot more than she deserved. But come hell or high water, Ryan's divorce was going to be finalized very soon.

Parker ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. A calming breath. For the life of him, he didn't know why he needed it. Everything was working out. The case. Reed. It had been more than two weeks since they'd arm wrestled, two blessedly peaceful weeks. Parker had bit the bullet, so to speak, and had broached the subject of sex. Reed had rolled his eyes. There was no way to tell if Parker had gotten through to the kid. He ran his hand through his hair again. How did parents do this on a day in, day out basis?

His days had settled into a routine of sorts. The office was neat and tidy. His house was noisy and messy. His nights were passion-filled and pleasurable.

So why was he feeling this sense of unease? Rosita was the one who had all the damn premonitions.

A rap on the door preceded J.D.'s entry into Parker's office by about three seconds. “I'm going to lunch.”

Parker glanced at his watch. “It's not even ten o'clock.” Oh. Parker got it. “How is Adrienne?”

J.D. shook his head. “She's horrible. Has my family jewels in a sling.”

It required careful concentration to keep Parker's mind clear of that particular image. “Then Adrienne's still giving you a hard time?”

“I'm in love for what just might be the first time in my life and the woman I'm in love with won't sleep with me.”

“You're in love with Adrienne?”

J.D. didn't bother to nod. “Damn scary, isn't it, son?”

Parker went perfectly still.

J.D. eyed his son. “Don't look so surprised. I've seen you with Hannah. You know how it feels.”

The unease that had been bothering the pit of Parker's stomach pitched and spread. He opened his mouth to dispute his father's observation. The phone jangled near his hand, causing him to jump.

“What is it Adalaide?” His eyebrows drew down in concentration. “Yes, of course. Put him on.”

Parker glanced at his father, who had moved closer and was quietly watching him.

“Yes, Harry,” Parker said to his contact at the police station. “I'm here.” He listened in silence, asking only those questions necessary to piece the news together. “Murdered? How?…Yes…Good God…Yes…I'll be there as soon as possible.”

He hung up the phone. “Sophia Fortune was found murdered in her hotel room this morning.”

“Murdered. Do they know who did it?”

“They have Lily in custody.”

H
annah pulled her car to the side of the pothole-riddled street in front of Maria's rundown trailer. The place looked worse than it had the last time Hannah had been here months ago. Maria had always liked nice things. The sister Hannah used to know wouldn't have been happy living in a rundown trailer on the outskirts of Leather Bucket. It drove home the fact of how little Hannah knew Maria anymore.

Weeds grew among rocks and debris. The steps leading to the front door were wobbly. Those at the back door were literally rotting away. The morning sunshine, in all its brilliance, made the trailer itself look even more dismal, unkempt.

The only car nearby was one on blocks near the back of the property. Hannah picked her way over the uneven ground, being careful not to step on broken glass and discarded beer and soda cans. She wasn't really surprised when her knock on the door went unanswered. After trying again, she circled to the back of the structure, hoping for a glimpse of Maria, or some hint that she was inside.

Torn shades covered most of the windows. Hannah spied a screen in a window in the back of the trailer. It was too high to reach.

Rummaging around for something she could use to stand on, she found an old crate in the weeds. After look
ing to see if anyone had noticed her presence, she hauled the crate to the trailer's high window.

Birds tweeted and a warm wind fluttered through her slacks. She was nervous. It felt wrong to be looking in Maria's windows without her permission. Hannah didn't know what else to do. What if something was seriously wrong with her sister? Heart in her throat, she positioned the crate beneath the screened window. Placing one foot on the top surface, she tested it for strength, then reached for the rotting windowsill, and rose up, balancing on the crate.

Her phone jangled inside her large purse, scaring the daylights out of her. She jumped backward. Landing on her feet, she peered nervously around.

Breathing between parted lips, she reached inside her purse, grabbing the phone before it had completed its second ring. “Hello?”

At the sound of Parker's voice, she started to smile.

The phone crackled. And the smile drained off her face. Her eyes grew round as she listened. “Murdered. Parker, no.”

It got worse.

“She couldn't have done it.” Her knees gave out, and she sank onto the wooden crate. “My mother isn't capable of murder.”

She listened intently, the dread she'd been feeling taking the form of disbelief, and finally, gut-wrenching fear. “Mom has a gentle soul. She wouldn't hurt anyone.”

She wanted to scream it, shout it, yell it. She ended up whispering it a second time.

“Yes, I'm still here… She wants Cole? That's good.” A tear rolled down her face. Before it could dry in the wind, another followed its trail.

She shuddered, and swallowed a sob. “I'll be right there.”

 

It was a nightmare, worse than all of Rosita's premonitions combined. Hannah's beautiful, kind-hearted mother had been arrested and accused of murdering Sophia Fortune.

Hannah was inside the visitor section of the local jail. Before Lily had been led away, Hannah had only been allowed to see her through glass. She'd never seen her mother this way. Lily had sat in stoic silence, her brown eyes glazed with fear and disbelief. She'd been stripped of her clothing, of her dignity, of her freedom. Hannah had wanted to sob when she saw her, but for Lily's sake she'd forced herself to remain strong.

Parker had said that the police who questioned Lily had been brutal, badgering her with accusations, suggesting possible scenarios, every one uglier than the last. Lily's tennis bracelet had been found on the floor between the bed and the wall, making her their prime suspect. When they'd produced the bracelet and asked if it belonged to her, a tear had trailed down Lily's face. Yes, it was hers, she'd said. But she'd lost it two weeks ago.

No. She hadn't reported it stolen.

It didn't look good for Lily. It didn't look good, at all.

Cole was on his way from Denver. Maria had come, too. But she'd been so distraught, she'd had to be medicated. She was sleeping at Hannah's apartment right now.

Hannah had thought things were bad a few weeks ago when she'd discovered Maria coming on to Parker. This was so much worse. In fact, she didn't see how things could get any worse than this.

News of the murder would be on the front page of the morning papers. It was already on the radio and on tele
vision. Sophia Fortune had been found murdered in her hotel room in Austin early this morning. Her husband's mistress, Lily Redgrove Cassidy, had been arrested and accused of the crime. The police were doing everything by the book. Many people were calling it an open and shut case.

Ryan, bless his heart, refused to leave the jail. He growled at the press, adamantly proclaiming Lily's innocence. “Someone murdered Sophia, but it wasn't Lily Cassidy. We'll find the person responsible, mark my words.”

Lily insisted the only attorney she trusted to defend her was Cole. Ryan had calls in to important officials all the way to the supreme court. He was already putting together the best defense team money could buy to be at Cole's disposal the minute he arrived from Denver.

It had been hours since Hannah had received Parker's call. During that time, she'd pulled herself together. Now she was sitting with Ryan in the waiting area in the local jail, waiting for bail to be set. As soon as it was, Ryan would post it, and take Lily home. Parker, J.D., and some of Ryan's family members were due to return from a nearby coffeeshop any moment. Far beyond the ability to make small talk, Hannah clutched Ryan's hand in a show of support and gratitude, taking comfort in his unfailing love for her mother.

Suddenly the door opened. Cameras flashed as reporters surrounded Parker, J.D., and Ryan's son and daughter and two of his nephews who had come to do whatever they could to help. The crowd parted, allowing Hannah a clear view of Parker. She and Ryan both rose to their feet.

Yearning washed over her at the sight of Parker. She so longed to go to him, to feel his arms go around her, to rest her head for just a moment on his shoulder, to absorb his warmth and strength and conviction.

She couldn't have reached him if she'd tried. The media had surrounded him, making a nuisance of themselves.

“I understand Lily Cassidy's father was an alcoholic.”

“Does she have a drinking problem, too?”

“Would you say Lily is a strong woman?”

“Strong enough to smother Sophia Fortune?”

Parker said, “Lily Cassidy does not have a drinking problem. She did not murder Sophia Fortune.”

A reporter shoved a microphone in Parker's face. “You're seeing Cassidy's daughter, are you not?”

A buzz went through the room.

J.D. said, “Try to stick to the matter at hand, people.”

The media did no such thing. “The divorce attorney and the wedding planner.”

“They say opposites attract.”

“Tell us, Mr. Malone. Is Cassidy's daughter planning more than one wedding?”

The expression that passed briefly through Parker's eyes sent dread to the pit of Hannah's stomach. Her heart was in her throat; her feet seemed to have frozen to the floor.

Parker had prepared himself for a vast array of questions, but he wasn't prepared to answer this one. His heart pounded an erratic rhythm. He'd reacted in a similar fashion when his father had mentioned the word love yesterday. He'd put the notion out of his mind, but these reporters weren't going to be easily dismissed. Get married? Him?

He cleared his throat, pretending not to be affected by the question. “Hannah Cassidy knows where I stand on the subject of marriage. As I said before, Lily Cassidy did not murder Sophia Fortune. I, along with the firm of Malone, Malone & Associates intend to do everything in my power to assist Cole Cassidy in clearing Lily Cassidy's name.”

The reporters fired off more questions.

The room tilted. Hannah shivered. She'd heard Parker's entire oration. She knew she should rejoice in his delivery, in his vehement stand on her mother's behalf, but she couldn't get past his view of marriage. He'd said it before, but never with more conviction. The press, in all their usual exuberance for a story, went on to another line of questions.

Hannah allowed Ryan to lead her to a chair. She huddled there, utterly cold on such a hot August day.

Parker didn't love her. And he didn't plan to marry her. Ever. For some reason she was reminded of the day they'd buried her big, kind-hearted father. She'd stood by his grave for a long time when the service was over, her heart breaking, tears streaming down her face, wondering how she would ever go on without him.

She'd gathered strength from her family then. They'd pulled together, helping each other through that sad, bleak time. Hannah had no one to turn to now. Her mother was in jail. Her father was in the ground. Maria wasn't capable of helping anybody. And when Cole arrived, he was going to have his hands full defending Lily.

Despite all his warnings, she'd thought she had Parker. She'd been such a fool.

A tear trailed down her cheek. She'd been so sure he loved her, so sure he was worth the risk to her heart.

And she'd been so wrong.

 

Hannah stood at the back door of The Pink Flamingo. She didn't remember driving here. In a daze, she feared she didn't have the strength to make it all the way inside. Her chest felt like a cold tomb, empty of everything except grief. She wrapped her arms around herself and slumped against the building, slowly sinking to the ground.

Adrienne found her there, rocking back and forth, tears coursing down her cheeks. “Aw, sugar, come inside. You're shivering.”

“Parker says I'm the only woman he knows who's cold when it's eighty degrees outside.” Her automatic mention of Parker brought fresh tears to her eyes.

“I'd like to shoot a certain divorce attorney.” Adrienne helped her up, and helped her inside. She barked out orders to the staff. In almost no time, Hannah was munching on saltines and cheese and sipping sweetened tea, which Adrienne insisted only true Southerners knew how to make.

“I take it you saw him on the news.”

“I saw him,” Adrienne said, an arm around Hannah's shoulders. “One of my regular customers is a bona fide Gypsy. I think I'm going to ask her to put a hex on Parker Malone.”

Hannah sniffled. After taking a loud slurp of her tea, she said, “What kind of hex?”

“Oh, I don't know. Nothing fancy or complicated. Maybe something along the lines of making his member fall off.”

“Don't do that.”

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn't.”

Hannah took a shuddering breath. “Would you use anesthetic?”

Adrienne laughed. “I've got you thinking about it, don't I? There, see? I knew you were going to be all right. That's it. Take another sip of tea. I wouldn't really have her put that particular curse on him, you know. After all, he might come to his senses. If we de-manned him, you'd really be in a fine mess.”

Hannah couldn't quite pull off an honest smile. She sipped her tea in silence, deep in thought.

No matter what Adrienne said, Hannah refused to live
with delusions anymore. Parker didn't believe in marriage, in forever. He didn't love her. He never had. He'd been honest. She hadn't listened. If that wasn't bad enough, something was very wrong with Maria. And their dear mother was in jail.

Hannah was already in a fine mess.

 

Hannah didn't see Parker again until early that evening. He was coming out of the jail as she was going in. She had really hoped to put off a face-to-face meeting until later. Much later. It just went to show how completely off-kilter her timing was these days.

“Hannah.”

She stopped several feet away, waiting for him to descend the last few steps. She thought he looked tired, and wanted to kick herself for noticing. “Are there any new developments in the case?” she asked.

He ran a hand through his hair, and eyed her in a manner that told her he'd noticed her uncharacteristic cool reserve. “Ryan's still waiting for bail to be set. As soon as it is, he'll have the funds transferred and take her home to the ranch. Hannah, about that question one of the reporters asked me.”

Hope surged inside her. “Yes?”

He stared at her, as if uncertain how to proceed. Her hope drained away. “There's no need to explain,” she said. “I understand. It wasn't anything I didn't already know.”

He looked genuinely relieved. “Do you want to grab a bite to eat somewhere?”

“You mean, with you?”

His eyes narrowed. She half expected him to say something snide like “No, with Jack the Ripper.” But he simply asked, “Do you see anyone else around, Hannah?”

She shook her head. “I'm picking Cole up from the airport in a little while. Then he, Maria and I are going to the Double Crown for a late dinner. It would probably be best if you and I didn't see each other anymore. We know where we stand. No sense confusing the public.”

She gave him what she hoped passed for a smile. Leaving him a wide berth, she strode up the steps that led to the jail. Her nerves were standing on end. Feeling his eyes on her, she held her head high and opened the heavy, bullet-proof door.

Parker turned as Hannah walked stiffly past him. She didn't look back, disappearing on the other side of the door.

It was strange, but he swore he could still smell her perfume. He'd never seen her quite this way. She was beyond exhaustion. He knew he was responsible for putting at least some of the hurt in her eyes. She'd heard the reporter's question regarding marriage, and she'd heard his reply. He hadn't wanted to hurt her, but he couldn't lie. Lily needed levelheaded, rational attorneys whose minds were razor-sharp. Her very life depended upon it.