Matt (19 page)

V
anessa stirred as Matt slid from the bed. “Where are you going?”

The cabin was dark, except for the glowing embers on the grate. The sky outside the window was midnight black. Though the thunder and lightning had ceased, a steady rain beat a tattoo on the roof.

“I'm going to feed you.”

“Now? In the middle of the night?”

“I don't know about you, but I'm ravenous. And after all that exercise, I need to restore my energy—” he bent and kissed her mouth “—for the next round.”

“You make it sound like a prizefight.”

“More like a marathon. And we're both winning the race.”

She chuckled. “All right. Now that I'm a winner, and awake, I'll give you a hand with our midnight supper.”

She reached for his shirt, still on the floor where they'd left it, to cover her nakedness.

Matt was barefoot and stripped to the waist, wearing only his jeans, which were unsnapped.

She followed him to the little galley kitchen. “I'm glad you thought to bring along the last of our supplies. Was that by design or accident?”

He shot her a grin. “It was no accident. The minute I knew we were leaving that mountain retreat and I was going to be driving Gram Gracie's truck, I decided to confiscate whatever was left.”

“Aren't you the sly one.” She opened the metal container and removed several packets. “Chicken or steak?”

“Definitely steak.” At her look he added, “It goes with red wine.”

“Of course.” She held up another packet. “Rice or potatoes?”

“I'll let you choose the rest.”

“A mystery feast then.” She set aside several packets and arranged the food on a cooking tin, which she then set over the hot coals.

While their food heated, Matt tossed a salad and divided it into two bowls, which he carried to the low table set in front of the fire, along with the bottle of wine.

A short time later, with a log blazing on the fire, and their meal ready, they sat, sipping wine and enjoying sizzling steak and twice-baked potatoes loaded with chives and cheese and sour cream, as well as a salad dressed with Yancy's balsamic-vinegar-and-oil.

With a plaid afghan around her shoulders, Vanessa gave a sigh of contentment as she finished every bite. “I wouldn't trade this moment for the fanciest meal anywhere in the world.”

“Have you traveled the world?”

“Some. England, Scotland, Ireland.” She thought a moment. “Spain. And the Greek islands.”

“Italy?”

She shook her head. “That's on my to-do list. How about you? Besides Italy, of course.”

He topped off her glass. “All the places you mentioned. Plus Iceland.”

“Really?” She turned to him. “Why?”

“They import everything. And one of the things they import is Malloy beef.”

“That's pretty impressive.”

He smiled and reached over to play with a tangle of her hair that had slipped forward. “I was hoping to impress you.”

She absorbed the little tingle of pleasure at his touch. “You don't need to. I'm already impressed by everything I've seen here.”

“And I'm impressed by what I'm seeing.” He took the glass from her hand and set it on the table beside his before leaning close to kiss her. “I could look at you all day every day for the rest of my life and never get tired of what I'm seeing.”

With a sigh she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Same goes for me, cowboy. Who would have believed a hardworking rancher could be such eye candy?”

“You're just trying to flatter me so you can have your way with me.”

“Maybe.” She looked up at him and batted her lashes. “Is it working?”

“You bet.”

They came together in a slow, languid dance of love.

Matt set a fresh log on the fire before joining Vanessa in bed. They sat side by side, listening to the soft patter of rain, sipping fresh coffee, and talking.

“That day we took a ride across the hills, you told me your grandmother is a pilot. I haven't been able to put that out of my mind. I'm so impressed by her. How did that happen?”

“When she married Grandpop, there wasn't much civilization around these parts except for a few dirt roads. The quickest way to anywhere was to fly, and at first she relied on her Frankie to take her. But then, after she found herself alone on a ranch with two sons, and Grandpop often a hundred miles away with a herd on one of the mountains, she figured she'd better learn to take care of herself. It was just a natural progression that my dad and uncle got their pilot's licenses as soon as they were old enough. And just as natural that my brothers and I would do the same.”

“Do you remember the night your parents died?”

Matt's eyes narrowed slightly. “It's seared into my memory. The family in shock. The sheriff and Archer Stone, his deputy, trying to make sense of it. And the Great One, really agitated after returning from the crash scene.”

“He went there?”

“With his movie camera. He recorded everything he could. It's just second nature to him. The snow-covered highway. The mangled car. The two blanket-covered bodies by the side of the road.”

Vanessa shook her head. “I don't know how he could bear to even look at something so painful and brutal. Something so close to his heart.”

“He felt responsible.”

Her eyes widened. “Why?”

“He'd loaned his fancy car, the one he'd brought with him from Hollywood, to my folks for a night in town. Mom and Dad were so excited. Nobody ever drove that Rolls. It was parked in the barn, and probably would still be sitting there, unused, but the Great One urged them to take it as a special treat.”

“Oh, that poor old dear. No wonder he felt responsible.”

“The Great One believes this was no accident. He believes it was something sinister, and that there was a second pair of tire marks in the snow that night. We've all looked at the film, and we all agree there are other marks, but the authorities insist they were made by all the people who intruded on the scene. Besides the sheriff's squad car and his deputy's, there was a rancher passing by who saw the fireball, and a couple of wranglers tending a herd who heard the crash. And then my uncle and grandfather, who drove the Great One to the site. And there's no disputing that there were way too many tire marks littering the crash site. According to the official report, it was just a terrible case of speed, a driver handling an unfamiliar vehicle during a snowstorm, and a layer of ice that made the roads dangerously slick.”

“Does your great-grandfather ever talk about it?”

“Not to us. He knows how painful it is. But I've come upon him discussing it with Yancy. Both of them are obsessed with long-ago Hollywood crimes, and I think they're always trying to find a similarity between them and our family tragedy. But the minute any of us walk in, he changes the subject. Still, I doubt he'll ever let go of his belief that a crime was committed. And it may have been avoided if my father had been driving one of the ranch trucks instead of a fancy Rolls Royce.”

Vanessa brushed a kiss to Matt's shoulder. “How awful that he carries that guilt.”

“Yeah.” Matt stepped out of bed to retrieve the coffeepot from the fire and topped off their cups before climbing beneath the blankets.

He drew an arm around her shoulders, determined to change the subject. Even after all these years, he found it too painful to think about. “It has to be tough not hearing from your father the last few days, especially with everything that's been going on. I know you two are close.”

“That's the hardest part of all this. We've always talked every day. And now, with this blackout, I don't even know how he's doing. Not personally, and not with the trial.”

“I'm sure he's missing you every bit as much as you miss him. But from what I've read about him, he's tough as nails.”

“That's the reputation the press gave him. The Iceman. But they don't know the man I know.”

“No one ever knows family except those intimately involved.” He linked his fingers with hers. “Tell me about him.”

It was the best thing he could have said. It was like opening a dam.

“When I was little, he was busy working every case he could. My mom and I did everything together. And then, when I was thirteen, and my mother got sick, I remember him being home for days at a time. I kept pestering him with questions, but he was really good at evading. And then one day he just sat me down to explain that my mom wasn't getting better. That all the treatments weren't helping. And then he told me that she had cancer, and I was so scared, and so angry at him for keeping that secret from me when I could have been—” she paused “—nicer to her. Kinder. I could have tuned into her needs instead of selfishly worrying about school and tests and friends.” She took in a breath. “I told him I felt cheated. He understood my anger. And he promised me that he would never again keep anything from me.”

“And then I did the same thing as your father. I thought I'd spare you by handling things myself.”

“Exactly. I hate being afraid. But even more, I can't stand being kept in the dark. I have a right to know what's going on, so I can find a way to deal with it.”

The lines of worry in her face relaxed. Her voice lowered, softened. “As for my dad, once we got past the secrets, we formed a pact. And now, he's just the best father. He really cares about everything I do. After my mother passed away, he did double duty, being both father and mother to me. He never missed a school event. He even took off work whenever there was a parent-teacher meeting or an after-school activity. He was just always there for me.” She sighed. “And now I can't even imagine how hard it must be for him to pour himself into all the details of this trial while being forced to trust his daughter's safety to others.”

“I'm sure he has plenty of eyes and ears. Not just the Chicago PD but any private investigators they've brought onto the case. You're the daughter of an elected official. They're all feeling responsible for your safety. They're charged with reporting to him or to his office on a daily basis. I'm betting he knows more about you and your daily activities than you do about him at this point.”

She sighed. “I hope you're right, Matt. And I hope it isn't distracting him from the trial. He really needs to feel free to do his job, no matter the outcome. This man he's prosecuting is a vicious criminal disguised as an important city official.”

Matt squeezed her shoulder. “You heard what he told you by phone. In a matter of days or weeks, this will be resolved once and for all.”

And then, seeing the tension returning to her eyes, he drew her close for a kiss. And another.

As they came together, all the troubles of the past and present slipped away.

Later, while he watched her sleep, Matt thought about all they'd shared. Now, finally, he understood her need for complete honesty. Even though her father's intentions had been admirable, hoping to spare her the pain of her mother's illness, his secrecy was hurtful.

As for Matt, he'd revealed more personal history with her in this one night than he'd ever told another living soul. Not even his own family. He and his brothers never talked about the loss of their parents. And because of the pain he could sense in his family, he'd refrained from bringing up the subject. But with Vanessa, all that changed. She was so easy to talk to. She listened. Really listened to all he had to say. But it was deeper than that. She was smart. She was sensitive. And she really cared about him, his family, his life.

He liked the fact that she was crazy about her father. Coming from a close, loving family himself, it mattered to him.
She
mattered to him, though he didn't want to probe the why of it too deeply.

She was getting to him.

Who was he kidding?

She'd gotten to him the minute they met.

Then she was just a sharp mind in a pretty face wrapped up in a gorgeous body.

Now she was so much more.

He wasn't ready to admit just how much more. But the fact was, he wasn't looking forward to the day she would be free to leave.

Free to leave.

The thought rankled.

He didn't want her to leave.

Not now. Not ever.

And that fact was so alien to a man like him. He'd spent a lifetime caring for his entire family and had never once given a thought to his own future, other than how it would be linked to this ranch.

He'd always kept outsiders at arm's length. And now, though it was far too soon, he found himself thinking about how Nessa fit into the picture. She was no longer an outsider. She mattered to him. Perhaps more than she ought to.

And that fact scared the hell out of him.

V
anessa lay very still, listening to the sound of birds outside the cabin. After a day and night of storms punctuated by thunder and lightning, and of rain drumming the roof, it was a soothing, relaxing sound.

She looked over at Matt, who was gloriously naked, one leg resting over hers, an arm wrapped protectively around her.

She felt safe with this man. Safe in all ways. Not just safe from the outside world, but safe to be herself. No pretense. No airs.

She could tell him anything, and knew instinctively that he would listen and not judge. Except for her father, she couldn't think of another man who bore that distinction.

But why? What was it that set Matthew Malloy apart from others? He was handsome, but then, so were dozens of other men. He was smart, but she'd attended law school with plenty of smart men who had never affected her like this. He was serious and funny. Shrewd and charming. All business, until he decided to play. His playful side, such a contradiction from the man she'd first met, delighted her more than she cared to admit. In truth, she loved everything about Matthew Malloy.

Loved?

Though the word teased the edges of her mind, she didn't want to probe this too deeply. It was too soon. Her life was too complicated. She didn't want or need another complication. Wasn't it enough that she was the object of death threats? Even though she felt safely removed from them, they were there in the background, real, deadly, taunting her. And there was the absence of her father. She missed his presence in her life. Theirs was such a comfortable, loving relationship. She hated that he was dealing with not only a career-changing trial but also a dangerous foe who had threatened to stop at nothing to walk free. And he was doing it alone, as he'd been forced to deal with everything alone since the death of her mother. On the one hand she wanted to be there with him, to offer aid and comfort. On the other she knew that he was grateful to have her here, safe and protected, so that he could give his full attention to the trial.

She struggled to put aside such thoughts. There was nothing she could do to help her father, except to stay here and to stay safe. But she felt a measure of guilt that, while her father was forced to slay his dragons alone, she was here having a grand time with Matt.

Matt. His hand moved along her side and she felt the now familiar sizzle of anticipation at his touch. His hands were work worn. A working cowboy's hands. Strong. Steady.

She loved his hands. Loved having them on her.

His breath was warm as it tickled her cheek. She delighted in kissing him. His face. His body. His mouth.

She leaned in, hoping to touch her lips to his.

It was then she realized that he was awake and watching her.

She paused. “I was planning on kissing you awake.”

“Be my guest.”

She laughed. “It won't work now. You're already awake.”

“Part of me is. But one kiss, and you'll wake the rest of me.”

“Oh.” Such a small word for the rush of feelings that surfaced as an image came to mind. An image of their glorious night of lovemaking.

She leaned even closer. With her eyes on his she nibbled a chaste kiss to his mouth. His arms came around her, pinning her to the length of him. And then she was lost. Lost in the wonder of the pleasure only he could give.

“I need coffee.” Matt slipped from bed and stepped into his jeans.

“I saw some sort of biscuit dough in the supplies. Maybe I'll try my hand at pancakes.”

He looked at her. “Pancakes?”

She flushed. “Or not. But I'll try.”

“Pancakes are good.” He rummaged through the metal container and lifted a package. “But even better with crisp bacon.” He set out strips of bacon on the cooking tin.

Vanessa pulled on a pair of denims and a T-shirt and joined him in the kitchen area, looking through the supplies until she found the biscuit dough.

After reading the directions, she turned with a smile. “I can do this.”

“Great. I didn't know you cooked.” He stood watching as she mixed it with milk and poured several large circles of thin pancake batter beside the bacon.

He placed the tin over the hot coals. A short time later, when their breakfast was ready, he set a log on the grate, and they settled in front of a roaring fire to enjoy their meal.

“Perfect pancakes. Yancy had better watch his back.” Matt sat back, smiling over at her. “You're just full of hidden talents, aren't you, ma'am?”

“I've barely scratched the surface.”

He shot her a look. “Now you tell me. What else am I missing?”

Her voice was a soft purr. “You'll just have to wait and see.”

His grin was quick and dangerous. “I'll show you mine if you show me yours.”

She slapped his hand. “You're such a guy.”

He shrugged. “Can't blame a guy for trying.”

They shared a laugh.

He sat back and finished his coffee. “We'll have to pack up soon and head back to the ranch.”

“I know.” She laid her hand over his. “This time alone with you has been special.”

“For me, too.”

She could feel him studying her. As he'd been studying her ever since she'd first arrived here in Montana. It warmed her. It thrilled her. It frightened her. Not Matt, she realized, but the feelings he aroused in her. She'd never felt like this about any other man, and it was delicious and oddly uncomfortable, all at the same time.

“There are things I want to tell you.”

“Things?”

“Feelings. They're…” He paused. “They're still pretty new, but since we're sharing secrets…”

“I don't know if you're ready to hear this, but I need to say it anyway. In all these years, I've never before known a woman who's ever made me think about love, commitment, and happily-ever-after.”

Seeing her look of stunned surprise, he squeezed her hand before getting up and crossing the room to pull on his shirt, parka, and boots.

“Wait, Matt. You tell me something this important, this earth-shattering, and then you just calmly turn away?”

“I realize this came out of the blue. Sorry. I'll give you some time. If I had my way, we'd never leave. So, if we hope to get out of here”—he kept his back to her—“I'm going out to chop some wood.”

Then he turned and gave her a blinding smile. “We have a rule up here. A cowboy never leaves one of the range shacks until he's replaced whatever was used while he was here. That way, the next one who has need of shelter will find it ready.”

“Sounds like a good rule.”

“Yeah.” He returned to bend close and give her a long, slow kiss.

“Another rule?”

“That one was just for me. Never leave your woman without first kissing her.” He straightened and walked outside.

Your woman.

His woman.

Warmed by his words, thrilled by them, she stared at the closed door and sat back as a slow smile spread across her lips.

Matt loved her.

And she'd said not a word. Though her heart was in her throat, and in her mind she was dancing on clouds, she'd remained still and mute.

Maybe because she was afraid to admit just how she was feeling. It was too new. Too delicious.

She couldn't recall another time when she'd done so little and had so much pleasure doing it. No alarm clocks. No fast-paced schedule to adhere to. No airports from Chicago to DC and back. No small talk with people she barely knew. No fighting to change rules set in stone by some bureaucrat years before she'd been born.

Here in this simple place, she'd found peace and contentment.

And love.

She drained her coffee and carried their dishes to the small sink.

To the steady sound of an ax splitting logs, she made up the bed, tidied up the space, and looked around with a nod of appreciation. This little cabin had been her sanctuary and her heaven. It was primitive by any standards. Just a rough bed, a fireplace for heat, and cold water. But she wouldn't trade it for the finest spa or resort.

Because of Matt.

Just the thought of him warmed her. He loved her.

Love.

She touched her hands to her hot cheeks and couldn't help grinning.

She looked up as a rumble, like thunder, seemed to echo across the hills. Another storm blowing through? Would Matt try to drive through it, or remain here until it blew over? She hoped they could remain. It would be such fun to extend their time here.

Fun? It would be heavenly. Another day and night in Matt's arms, with no distractions. No ranch chores. No loud, teasing brothers or family members to intrude.

She blinked. In truth, she was already missing his rowdy brothers and raucous family. After a lifetime alone, she loved the crazy laughter, the wild teasing, the loving interaction of the entire Malloy clan.

One thing was certain. Despite the threat of danger hanging over her head, she'd never had a better time anywhere than she had here, with Matt and his large, loving family.

She grabbed a battered denim jacket from a hook by the door when she realized that the chopping had stilled. She would help Matt haul the logs inside and see what their plans would be going forward.

She ran to the door. Before she could reach it, it was yanked open, and a burly figure seemed to fill the entire space.

The stranger was tall, bearded, and menacing. And in his hand was a terrifying looking automatic weapon aimed directly at her.

“Matt…?” She couldn't seem to make her mouth work over the constriction in her throat.

“Your cowboy's dead.”

The roar. Not thunder. Gunfire.

Matt dead?

“No! Matt—” She tried to push past the man, but he swung the weapon in a wide arc, hitting her in the head so hard it knocked her to the floor.

Pain, hot and swift, crashed through her brain. She struggled to clear the black spots dancing in front of her eyes. She touched a hand to her head and felt the wet, sticky mass of blood oozing through the hair at her temple.

Ignoring her obvious pain, the stranger grabbed her arm, hauling her roughly to her feet and dragging her through the open doorway.

In the clearing she saw a second man standing beside Grace's truck. Through the open doorway of the vehicle she saw Matt slumped behind the wheel. The front of his parka was stained with his blood.

The man cupped his hands to shout, “Got him inside, though it was like lifting an elephant. This cowboy's all muscle.”

“Quit complaining and get that truck going. We need to move now.”

The second stranger started the engine before slamming the truck's door closed. Reaching inside the open window, he engaged the gear. The truck lurched forward.

The vehicle moved slowly toward a rock ledge. The same ledge Matt had once pointed out to her. At the end of it lay a sheer drop-off that fell thousands of feet to a heavily wooded canyon below.

Vanessa watched in horror as she realized what they intended.

Tears of pain and rage blinded her as the truth dawned.

The truck, with Matt inside, could rot in that primitive forest for years without ever being spotted from above.

No one would know what had happened here. She and Matt would both be dead, and the killers would be free to return to Chicago, to report to the vicious thug who had ordered all this, without fear of reprisal.

Without Matt's body, without hers, the crime would go unpunished.

Her father would know, and the knowledge would eat at him for a lifetime. And there was nothing he could do to stop this madness. Worse, nothing she could do.

Still holding her firmly by the arm, the bearded stranger shoved her into the passenger side of an SUV, its windows tinted so that the occupants couldn't be seen. Her wrists and ankles were bound by plastic restraints. Her cell phone was taken away and pocketed by her captor before he climbed behind the wheel and waited.

Minutes later there was a terrible explosion sending flames high in the air.

The sound of it, and the heat it generated, were so overwhelming, the very earth beneath them trembled. The vehicle gave a great shudder. Vanessa realized that Matt's fate had been sealed. At the knowledge that he was lost to her, she was overcome with such grief, all she could do was sob helplessly.

While the flames turned black, whirling and dancing on the breeze, the second man settled into the backseat.

“Okay, Homer. That's done. Let's roll.”

As they started away Vanessa turned for a last look. The once peaceful cabin was cloaked in a thick cloud of black, choking smoke curling up from the ravine far below.

Could anyone survive such an explosion? The thought had her going as still as death.

“Oh Matt,” she whispered, though she wasn't even aware that she was doing so. She tried to envision him rising up from the smoke and ashes. “Please. Please.” Was it a prayer or a plea? Whatever it was, she couldn't put the rest of her thoughts into words. It was all too painful. Too deep. Too real. Too…impossible.

Unable to wipe at her eyes, she blinked several times, and fell into a deep, dark well of utter despair.