Texas…Now and Forever (15 page)

“Frank?” Holding up her arm to shield her eyes, she squinted at the other vehicle. “Frank, are you there?”

His chuckle floated to her through the night. “I'm here, babe.”

The sound of his voice twisted Haley into knots.

“I see you brought the money,” he called. “Callaghan, too. Keep your hands where I can see 'em, both of you.” His laugh twisted into a sneer. “Not that I need to worry about you, do I, Callaghan? I ought to blow a hole in you right now, you useless son of a bitch, and put you out of your misery.”

Afraid he'd do just that, Haley rushed into an explanation. “Luke came along because of Lena. He provided the money for her ransom. He just wants to make sure she's okay.”

“That right, rich boy? You just want to check on your brat? Well, I guess I can let you have a look.” Snickering at his cruel joke, he raised his voice. “Bring her out, Erica.”

A healthy chunk of Haley's hate for Frank Del Brio took an instant detour into fury.

Erica. He could only mean Erica Clawson.

Haley had worked with the short, carrot-topped waitress for more than a year. Although she hadn't gotten close to anyone except Ginger Walton, the one friend she'd made as Daisy Parker, she'd fretted when Erica gushed about her new boyfriend, yet came to work with bruises and, once, a black eye.

She tried to coax the younger woman into talking to a counselor, but didn't want to get too close, reveal too much of herself. Then Lena had been kidnapped from Flynt's ranch, and Erica Clawson dropped instantly from Haley's list of worries.

Dammit all to hell! Why hadn't she seen beyond the waitress's appearance? Why hadn't she connected Erica's mysterious, ready-fisted boyfriend with Frank Del Brio? The FBI hadn't made the connection, either, but that didn't lessen Haley's biting self-disgust.

“You want to see your kid, Callaghan?” Frank's laughter rolled through the night again. “Here she is.”

A lump the size of a Texas armadillo lodged in Haley's throat as a tall, muscled figure moved into the spear of lights. She didn't have to fake her quaver of fear when she called out to Del Brio.

“We can't see anything from here. You're just a dark blur.”

“Come take a look. Bring the money.”

She took one step, heard Luke's hiss and stopped. “No. I'm not delivering the money until I know Lena's all right. Bring her halfway, Frank, then step back.”

“Aw, babe. It's breakin' my heart you don't trust me.”

The words came out playfully enough, but Del Brio's real feelings broke through as he picked up the carrier and sauntered forward.

“Just like it broke my heart you didn't trust me all those years ago when we were engaged. I would've taken care of you, Haley. I would have covered for your father. Why did you run? Why did you leave me thinking you were dead?”

She could feel his anger. It swept across the blaze of lights in palpable waves. She could feel the hurt, as well. In his own sick way, he'd loved her. Her flesh crawled when he made it plain he still did.

“I've been wondering what you did with your ring,” he called.

“I lost it in the lake, Frank.” No way she was going to tip him over the edge by admitting she'd thrown it as far away as she could. Not when she was this close to Lena.

“Never mind. I'll buy you another one. Bigger. Flashier. This time we'll do it right, Haley. When I put it on your finger, you won't want to take it off.”

“Frank!”

Erica Clawson's shriek split the night.

“What's this crap about putting a ring on that bitch's finger? You promised to marry me!”

Erica charged out of the darkness and was met with a lash of scorn.

“Don't be stupid. Why would I marry a slut like you? You spread your legs for me, you'll spread 'em for anyone in pants.”

“Me? You're calling me a slut?” Her outrage piled on top of anguish. “What about Princess Daisy here? She's the one who spread her legs. You're holding the evidence of that in your hand.”

“Haley made a mistake,” Frank snarled. “You, you're nothing but a tramp.”

“Tramp! I'll show you tramp!”

Her hands curled into claws, Erica launched herself at Frank. He whirled to meet her, one arm swinging the baby carrier in a wide arc, the aiming a dark shape that could only be a gun at Erica's heart.

Haley didn't stop to think. Didn't give a single consideration as to whether she was putting herself
between Frank and Luke. She hurtled forward at the same instant Del Brio fired.

Knocking the carrier out of his hand, Haley came down on top of the hard plastic. With a small, stunned cry, Erica came down on top of her. Frantically, Haley stooped over the carrier, shielding it with her body.

She heard more shots. Two. Three.

A hoarse shout.

Someone called her name.

Drenched in Erica's blood, hunched like a crab over her baby, her ears ringing from the shock waves of Frank's pistol fired at close range, she prayed that someone was Luke.

It wasn't.

It was her brother.

She recognized his voice finally, after his frantic hands pulled Erica's lifeless body away and the reverberations in her ear died enough for her to hear.

“Haley! Dear God, Haley, are you hurt?”

Dazed, she abandoned her protective crouch and raised up on her knees. Her stomach lurched when she spotted Frank Del Brio lying facedown only a few yards from Erica's lifeless body. It took another dive when she looked into the face of the man standing over her.

“Ricky?”

“Yeah, it's me.” Hunkering beside her, he gathered her into his arms. “I thought I'd lost you. I thought I'd lost both you and Lena.”

Lena! Dear God, Lena!

Only then did a series of indignant squalls pierce the clanging in Haley's ears. Shoving out of her brother's arms, she righted the overturned carrier.

Her face brick-red, Lena waved her fists in the air and let everyone in south Texas know that she was very unhappy. Haley's eyes brimmed with tears as she fumbled with the straps, pulled her baby from the carrier and dropped a kiss on her curls. Lena tight in her arms, Haley swung to face her brother.

“Ricky, where's Luke?”

The frantic question no sooner tumbled out than Luke himself answered.

“I'm right here.”

He stepped out of the darkness into the arc thrown by the headlights. With a small cry, Haley rushed to him. The acrid stench of gunpowder clung to his shirt. She had no idea whether he'd fired the shots that brought Frank down, and didn't care. The only thing that mattered was that he was safe. He and Lena.

The baby's squalls didn't lessen in either volume or intensity as Haley held out the bundle of flailing arms and legs.

“Meet your daughter, Mr. Callaghan.”

I
t was a perfect day for a wedding, Texas-style.

The summer sun floated in a cloudless sky. Heat rose in shimmering waves from the manicured fair-ways of the Lone Star Country Club. The assembled guests weren't worried about patches of unsightly sweat staining their pastel tea gowns and dove-gray morning coats, however. Giant fans discreetly positioned behind hedges blew cool, refreshing mists.

Most of Mission Creek, including the influential Carsons and Wainwrights, had gathered under the bright sun. Old feuds forgotten, the long-divided families intermingled in row after row of white-skirted chairs. Colonel Phillip Westin sat in the front row, stiff-backed and square-jawed in his dress blues, his medals gleaming in the sun. Next to the colonel sat Teresa Chavez, who picked her husband's pocket for a dry handkerchief to replace the one she'd already soaked.

“It's so beautiful,” she murmured, dabbing her eyes. “All these roses.”

It seemed as though every hothouse in south Texas had been raided. Garlands of yellow roses were draped between the rows. White netting entwined with thousands of the same fragrant blossoms festooned the patio where the reception would be held. Hundreds more climbed the arch that had been hastily constructed over the tee box of hole number nine.

Five men stood under the arch. Tall. Tanned. Shoulder to shoulder. At their feet, squarely in the center of the raised platform, was a baby carrier. A toddler with a lacy elastic headband holding back her black curls waved her arms and legs and blew happy bubbles into the air.

Hooking a hand in his white tie, one of Lena's honorary uncles glanced around the elegant scene and grinned. “I still can't believe your woman decided to make things official here on the golf course, Callaghan.”

“Believe it, Murdoch.”

“We heard you had to sign a promise in blood that you'd show this time,” Spence drawled.

“I would've used a pen,” Luke tossed back, “but Lena had just tried out her new back teeth on my finger. The ink ran a little red.”

“Well, I think holding the ceremony out here makes perfect sense,” Flynt murmured. “This is where it all began.”

Not quite, Luke thought. It began years ago, with a gawky teenager who blossomed into a lush, beautiful woman and a hardheaded Texan who put friendship ahead of his growing hunger.

Luke didn't turn his head or try to focus the blurred images that were becoming a little sharper each day. He knew his best man stood beside him, as he'd stood beside him so many times in the past.

Luke and Ricky had recovered a lot of ground since the night they took down Frank Del Brio. According to the coroner, it was anyone's guess whether Del Brio died from the bullet through his heart or through his brain.

Neither Luke nor Ricky particularly cared. Del Brio was out of the picture. Haley and Lena were safe. The FBI had come through with their promise of immunity for Ricky and Johnny Mercado. The band of brothers stood together again.

All was right with the world, Luke decided. But he didn't have any idea how right until a rustle of movement swept through the guests. Luke heard a few excited murmurs. A moment later the organist hit a loud chord and Mendelssohn's glorious “Wedding March” pumped into the air.

“Here we go.” Ricky's murmur reached him over the swelling notes. “You ready, pal?”

“Just keep that ring handy.”

A swish of skirts announced the arrival of
Haley's maid of honor. Ginger Walton Turner had wanted Daisy Parker to perform the same service at her wedding a few months ago. Haley hadn't dared risk the exposure then. Today the two friends could both bask in their happiness.

Three bridesmaids followed Ginger along the petal-strewn carpet to the tee box. Ellen Harrison, Josie Carson and Marisa Murdoch took their places beside Ginger.

Suddenly the organist put all she had into the equivalent of a drumroll. The notes rose higher, louder, startling a cry from Lena. Five men bent toward the infant. With a sheepish grin, four stepped back.

Luke straightened a moment later. With his daughter nestled in the crook of his arm, he stood tall and waited for Haley. She came down the aisle slowly, matching her pace to her father's. Only days out of the hospital, Johnny Mercado still moved cautiously, but both father and daughter were serenely oblivious of the gasps of astonishment that rose when they appeared.

“She's wearing red!” Luke heard someone exclaim.

Not any red. Hot, chili-pepper red. Red gown. Red shoes. Red roses wreathed in her hair. She'd worn it for Luke, so he could see the haze of bright
color silhouetted against the white chairs and miles of netting. So he could see his bride.

He hadn't thought that he could love her any more than he already did, but his heart swelled at that glorious blaze. His heart swelling, he stepped down to take her hand from her father's.

“Couldn't you leave that child in her carrier for a half hour?” she asked, laughing.

“Nope.” Hitching Lena up higher, he escorted his women back to the platform. “Any more than I can leave her behind when we take off on our honeymoon.”

“Which begs the question,” Haley murmured as the music swelled to a final crescendo, “where are we going?”

“You pick it. The Caribbean. Hawaii. Europe.”

“I'd like to go back to London. We left in such a hurry, I never said goodbye to my friends.”

The music died. The minister stepped forward. Luke cut him off before he got out more than “Dearly Beloved.”

“Hang on a minute, will you, padre?”

Startled, the minister looked to the best man, who shook his head. The guests exchanged equally confused glances as Luke smiled down at the pale, blurred oval of Haley's face.

“We can go anywhere you want, my darling,
whenever you want, as long as we come home once in a while.”

More astonished gasps rose from the guests as the bride threw her arms around her not-quite-yet husband's neck.

“I am home. For good this time. It's you and Texas, Luke. Now and forever.”

“That's all I wanted to hear, sweetheart.”

He bent toward her, provoking an amused observation from the minister. “The kiss usually comes after the vows, you know.”

“Not this time, padre.”

Glorying in the love that radiated from the woman in red, Luke wrapped his free arm around her waist. As he pulled Haley up against him, Lena laughed in delight and patted him on the cheek.