The Maverick (11 page)

Drops of rain began to pelt the windshield as they pulled into a parking space in front of the diner. Sunny grabbed a collapsible umbrella from the backseat, and they made a run for the door. No sooner were they inside with the bacon and coffee smells than thunder boomed and a torrent of rain washed from the sky, hammering the metal roof like pebbles.

Looking around, they spotted Carrie in a back booth. Smiling brightly, she rose and came to meet them. As always, Cass wondered at the amazing color of her eyes. They were a bright, stunning amethyst.

“Good to see you,” Carrie said, hugging them in turn. “I was afraid you weren’t going to make it before the rain. I swear the clouds chased me all the way from Wimberley.”

“It was sunshiny and clear in Austin,” Cass said.

“I hope it makes it up our way,” Sunny added. “My flowers could use the rain.”

Carrie led them back to the booth where she’d been sitting. “I’m having a cup of coffee already. Would you like some while we study the menu?”

“Absolutely,” Cass said.

Carrie held up two fingers toward the waitress behind the
counter, and they soon had steaming cups in front of them. “What’s good here?” she asked as the waitress refilled her cup.

“Everything’s good, but our migas are smokin’. Be right back for your order.”

“You know, as a Texan I hate to admit it, but I’ve never had migas,” Carrie said. “I often see them on menus. What are they?”

“Sort of Tex-Mex scrambled eggs, only better,” Sunny told her. “You start by sautéing small pieces of corn tortillas and add onion and chilies and anything else you want, then scramble all that with eggs beaten with a little cream or milk. Melt cheese over that, and top it with salsa and cilantro.”

“It’s delish,” Cass added. “And practically a staple in Austin.”

“Sounds fattening,” Carrie said. “I was going to have a poached egg and fruit.”

Cass grinned. “Come on, Carrie, live it up. You can have it without chorizo or bacon to save calories.”

Carrie agreed, and they all ordered the “smokin’” migas.

As soon as the waitress left, Cass said, “I know we should ask about Frank and the kids and the rest of the family first, but my curiosity is killing me. What in the world do you want to talk to us about privately?”

“It’s kind of heavy,” Carrie said. “Maybe we’d better wait until after the migas.”

“Car-rie,” Sunny said. “You can’t leave us hanging like that.”

“Sorry. You’re right. Let me start at the beginning. You know I used to be a landman for my uncle’s oil company, and I first went to Naconiche to lease property for drilling.”

“Right,” Cass said.

“Well, a lot of the property belonged to the Outlaw family. It had come down from old Judge John Wesley Hardin Outlaw to his two sons, Wes and Butch. Wes and his family were no problem, but since Butch was dead, I located his recorded
will, and he’d left everything to his wife, Iris. I imagine the will was drawn up long before he met your mother.”

Cass and Sunny looked at each other, and Cass wondered where this was going.

“Iris remarried and moved out of state. Nobody was quite sure where she relocated, but intrepid researcher that I am, I found her. She didn’t want anybody in the family to know her whereabouts, so I agreed to keep all her information confidential.”

“And she got the money?” Sunny said.

“Yes.”

“So?”

The waitress returned with their order, and everybody dug into the tantalizing concoction, sensing perhaps that the migas might be less appetizing after Carrie’s tale.

For a few moments, they ate without speaking. Finally Cass could stand it no longer and put down her fork. “Why are you telling us this?”

“Iris Outlaw Bradford, who had been widowed a second time, recently died. Her lawyer contacted me as per her instructions.”

“And?”

“The bottom line is she left everything to the two of you.”

“Good Lord!” Sunny’s fork clattered to her plate. “Why?”

“I’m not quite sure,” Carrie said. “From what I know about the situation, I would assume it was guilt for keeping your father from marrying your mother. I had a feeling that’s why she left Naconiche.”

“How much are we talking about here?” Cass said.

“A considerable amount. The will is being probated, but as far as I can tell, you own your father’s part of the Outlaw land and the income from oil and gas production there. It’s a rich site, and it will be producing for quite some time.”

“Holy guacamole!” Cass said.

“I don’t know any particulars about her personal estate yet, but her lawyer, who is her executor, indicated she was well-fixed.”

“You mean we’re rich?” Sunny said.

“At least quite comfortable. Or you will be as soon as the estate’s settled. I was hoping it would be completed by this weekend so I could give you more particulars, but it will be another few days or perhaps weeks before everything can be turned over to you. Iris’s attorney also sent me this letter to give to the two of you. Perhaps it will answer most of your questions.” Carrie handed them the sealed envelope she’d taken from her bag.

The twin’s names were typed across the front, along with “To be opened after my death.”

Cass took it and used her knife as a letter opener. “Excuse us, Carrie. We can’t wait any longer.” She unfolded the pages and, holding them so Sunny could read, scanned the letter. Her mouth dropped open as she read. “Son of a bitch!” Anger boiled up hotter than molten lava.

“Wrong gender,” Sunny said, “but I couldn’t have said it better. I hope she rots in hell! I don’t want her damned money!”

“She
murdered
our father!” Cass said to Carrie. “Shot him dead on the steps of the capitol building.”

Sunny tapped the page with her finger. “She admits it right here. No wonder the bitch felt guilty!”

“Oh, dear God,” Carrie said, covering her mouth. “I’m so sorry. I never imagined…”

Cass touched Carrie’s arm. “No need to be sorry. We’re not going to slay the messenger.” She handed the pages to Carrie to read.

The migas lay congealing on their plates as they all three sat there, stunned by Iris’s confession.

After a long silence, Sunny said, “Well, the case is finally closed. We’ll have to tell Wes right away.”

“Would you like me to tell him?” Carrie asked.

Sunny and Cass looked at each other, then nodded. “Please. I think we need some time to process this.”

“I think you’re right,” Carrie said. “And don’t be too hasty to refuse the money and land. After all, it was your father’s birthright…and yours.”

Cass nodded. “We need to wait until the estate is settled, and we have all the facts and some emotional distance from this.” She fluttered the pages.

“You’re right,” Sunny said. “I feel like I ought to belly up to a bar and toss back a stiff one to settle my nerves, but I’d throw up. My stomach might never be the same again.”

“I hear you,” Cass said. “Carrie, I know you’ll understand if we leave now. We have some concerns to discuss. We need some time to wrap our minds around this.”

“I do understand. I wish I could do something to make the situation easier.”

The waitress came over with the coffeepot and their check. “Something wrong with the migas?”

“The migas were superb,” Cass said.

“I’ll get the check,” Carrie said. “Go ahead.” She stood and hugged them both again.

T
HE RAIN SOON SLACKED
off, and they ran out of it entirely as they drove back to Austin. Cass reread Iris’s letter as they drove. Her initial anger had cooled a bit, and she struggled to study it with an objective mind. “‘If you can’t forgive me, at least I hope you’ll pray for my tortured soul,’” she read aloud.
“You know, sis, I’m not nearly ready to forgive her, but I can sort of understand her. Our mother and father weren’t exactly blameless in this situation. He was, after all, a married man.”

“Cass, that doesn’t excuse
murder
. And with his own damned gun! She deserved to be locked up in prison all these years.”

“Spoken like a cop, but I agree.”

“We have to report this, you know.”

“To whom? And why? It’s been over thirty years.”

“I know,” Sunny said, “but the authorities need to close the case.”

“I suppose you’re right, but I’m more concerned about telling Mom than about turning over Iris’s confession to the police. Do you think we should tell her?”

“Eventually, but not now.”

“I agree,” Cass said. “Let’s pick a better time. Do you wonder how Iris knew so much about us? I get the impression that she’d followed our lives to some extent.”

“With the Internet, tracking down people is fairly easy.”

“Now, sure, but widespread use of the Net is fairly recent.”

“Who knows?” Sunny said. “Private detectives maybe. Or for all we know she may have dropped into Chili Witches now and then for a bowl of chili. Nobody would have recognized her. I don’t think Mom or Aunt Min knew her from a hole in the wall.”

Cass put the letter away and leaned her head against the seat rest. “I wonder if her second husband knew what she’d done. She was a tortured soul for sure.”

“Cass, have you ever considered becoming a defense attorney? You’re beginning to sound like one. I don’t care if she was a tortured soul. She should have thought of the consequences before she pulled the trigger. I’m irritated because somebody from APD didn’t haul her in and sweat a confession out of her. Every rookie knows to look at the spouse first.”

“Tell the truth, Sunny. Did you ever think his wife did it?”

She sighed. “No. I always assumed it was politically motivated somehow. There were some hot issues at the time, and from what I’ve read, our dad made some enemies in the opposite camp.”

When they arrived at Chili Witches, they decided to go into the office and make copies of Iris’s letter, and that Sunny should keep the original in a lockbox at her house. Knowing the media would probably get hold of the story and splash it all over everywhere, they decided to hold off on turning the information over to the police. Maybe Sam could give them some ideas about how best to handle it. After all, Cass reminded her sister, they were under no legal obligation to report what they knew.

“Want to come upstairs?” Cass asked.

“No. I need to get home. Ben and Jay are dropping over later, and we’re going to play miniature golf. Want to go?”

Cass rolled her eyes. “Surely you jest. No, I’m going upstairs to clean my closet and get my mind off this latest disaster. Or wax my legs. Or watch a sappy movie and cry a little bit.”
And wish Griff was here.

Sundays were very long when you didn’t have someone to share them with.

H
ALFWAY THROUGH THE MOVIE
, she ran out of tissues and had to resort to a roll of toilet paper tossed on the couch beside her. The movie, although it was a tearjerker, didn’t account for all her weeping. Part of it was loneliness, part of it was sadness over the way her father had died. Part of it was general, wallowing misery over her current circumstances, a vague, amorphous blues. And part of it was probably feeling drained after the emotional day she’d had.

She turned off the television, hugged her knees to her chest and curled her bare toes over the edge of the couch cushion. Why couldn’t life be simple?

Why didn’t Griff call and lift her out of this mood?

Why was she waiting for him to call?

Picking up her cell, she punched in his number. It went directly to voice mail.

Damn. Where was he? Didn’t he know she needed him? Tossing her phone aside, she rested her forehead on her knees and let the despair wash over her.

“Cass? All this will pass.”

She glanced up to see her father sitting in a chair nearby. “Did you know that Iris shot you?”

“She was very hurt and angry. She felt embarrassed and betrayed. You mustn’t resent her. Resentment becomes a festering sore inside you and poisons your whole being. In the end, your negative emotions accomplish nothing and hurt only yourself. Forgiveness is very healing.”

“Did you know she died?”

“I did. She’s very lost right now, but she’ll get better. It would help if you and Sunny would accept her gift. It’s part of her atonement, and I want you to have what’s your birthright. We must all love one another, Cass.”

“I know, but sometimes it’s very difficult. I feel as if my life is in chaos lately.”

“I understand.” His voice was gentle, soothing.

“I love Griff.”

The Senator smiled. “That’s good.”

“But Mom and Aunt Min don’t like him at all, and I don’t think Sunny or the rest of the family are too fond of him, either.”

“Give them time. Everything is going to be all right.”

“I wish I could believe that. I have this awful feeling of impending doom I can’t seem to shake.”

The Senator only smiled and began to fade, leaving behind a whispered, “Trust…”

Tuesday night’s business was brisk, and Cass was happy to see the last customer leave. The staff closed down Chili Witches, and as soon as the last employee was out the back door, Cass set the alarm and locked up. She wasn’t looking forward to sleeping with her stuffed cat again, but hopefully Griff would be back tomorrow. Phone calls just weren’t cutting it.

She started up the back stairs to her apartment, but saw a shadow at the top that didn’t belong there. Her heart accelerated and her foot froze on the step. She didn’t even have pepper spray. Beginning a slow retreat and keeping her eye on the shadow, she was preparing to scream bloody murder and run like hell.

“Cass, it’s me.”

“Griff?”

“Yep.”

“Griff!” She ran up the stairs and threw herself into his arms.

Their kiss nearly blistered her nail polish.

“Oh, babe.” He held her face between his hands and kissed it all over. “I’ve missed you something crazy.”

“When did you get back?”

“How long does it take to drive from the airport? Add five minutes to that.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming home tonight?”

“I wanted to surprise you. Are you surprised? I finished up everything earlier today and took the first plane I could get out of New York.” He kept kissing her face.

She began unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it from his pants.

“Let’s go inside,” he said, his voice hoarse.

Reluctantly, she stopped unbuttoning and fished her key from her jeans. She unlocked the door in record time and pulled him inside after her, barely pausing to shut the door.

He kissed her again, almost devouring her like a starving man. She went back to work on the buttons, equally as hungry for him.

He was shucking off her shirt when suddenly a blaring, raucous noise filled the room.

“Oh, my gosh! The alarm.” Cass made a run for the control panel and turned it off just as her phone began to ring. As she grabbed the phone, someone started banging on the door and yelling her name.

“Sorry,” she told the security company on the phone. “I forgot to turn off the alarm when I came in.” She motioned for Griff to get the door as she gave the caller her code.

When Griff opened the door, Hank stood just outside, wearing nothing but shorts and pointing his service revolver.

“Don’t shoot, Hank! Don’t shoot,” Cass shouted. “It’s Griff and me. False alarm.”

Hank lowered his gun. “Damn near gave me a heart attack. Hello, Griff. Cass.” He grinned.

Cass, whose tee was up around her neck, stepped behind Griff, whose shirt was unbuttoned and half off. Thankfully, only a dim lamp illuminated her apartment.

Griff gave a curt nod, and, peeking around his shoulder, Cass said, “Hello, Hank. Sorry to disturb you.”

Still grinning, he said, “Aren’t you going to invite me in for coffee?”

“You’re not dressed,” Griff mumbled.

Cass snorted and giggled, burying her face against Griff’s back.

“Right,” Hank said. His grin didn’t falter. “Another time.”

Griff closed the door in his face and turned back to Cass. “Now where were we?”

She stripped off her tee and threw her arms around his neck. “About here, I think.”

His lips met hers, his tongue plunged into her mouth, and she went went wild in his arms.

“Oh, how I’ve ached for you,” he whispered as he walked her backward to the couch.

“My bed is much more comfortable,” she said, taking him by the hand and heading that way.

She nearly fell, hopping and pulling and trying to get her jeans off.

He steadied her, and they laughed.

“We have all night,” Griff said. “No need to hurry.”

“Maybe you don’t need to, but I do. I’m dying here.” Hopping again, she yanked off one shoe, then the other.

“We can’t have that.” He unhooked her bra, tossed it aside and toed off his own shoes. He bent and took a nipple into his mouth.

She moaned at the sensation. “Oh, Griff.”

“Yes, love?”

“Do that again.”

He went to the other breast, nipping and tasting as he hooked his thumbs in her panties and lowered them for her to step out of. His hands stroked up her legs, and one eased into the juncture.

She almost went through the ceiling with his intimate probing. “Don’t!” she cried. “Stop.” But he continued.

She went through the ceiling and shot to the stars as she throbbed around his fingers with spasm after spasm.

Gasping for breath, she laid her head against his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I told you to stop.”

“I thought you said ‘don’t stop.’ And anyhow, there’s nothing to be sorry about, Cass. Not with me. Ever.” He kissed her gently.

Her desire still wasn’t sated. She longed for him as strongly as ever. Writhing and rubbing her breasts against his chest, she unhooked and unzipped his pants, feeling his hardness.

With swift motions, he stripped off his pants and backed her to the bed. They fell onto the mattress, and she clamped her legs around his waist.

“Oh, babe,” he groaned. “You set me on fire.”

He plunged deeply into her, and she cried out with pleasure. “I love you so much,” she murmured into his ear.

Griff went even wilder. Like a force of nature, he plunged deeper, harder, and she clung to him as he took her to the top again. Her breasts swelled and her womb ached. She could feel him throb and begin to pump into her, and she came again. It was glorious. Beyond glorious. Beyond anything she’d ever felt. It went on and on and on.

“Holy guacamole,” she gasped.

He was still a moment, then he began to laugh.

“Ooooh.”

“Exactly.”

S
OMETIME IN THE MIDDLE
of the night, Cass jerked upright in bed. “Ohmygod!”

“’S matter, honey?” Griff mumbled.

“We didn’t use any protection.”

He rolled over. “Would it be so bad if you got pregnant?”

“You’re asking someone who was ridiculed for being a bastard? Of course it would be bad. I wouldn’t do that to a child.”

“If we got married, it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Married?” she squeaked. “Are you out of your ever lovin’ mind? We just met. I don’t know you well enough to even discuss marriage. We’re only up to the
L
word, and that seemed rushed. Forget the
M
word.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, stroking her tummy. “I think we know each other pretty well.” He sounded amused.

“I’m not speaking of knowing in the biblical sense. I’m talking about the deeper sense, the psychological and spiritual sense. Why, I don’t even know your favorite color.”

“Blue. Yours?”

“Red and blue and yellow. And some greens. And I love teal.”

“Doesn’t that cover everything?” he asked.

“Oh, no. I’m not wild about most browns, mustard and magenta. And I don’t much care for lime-green or dark olive.”

“What’s magenta?”

“It’s kind of like fuchsia, only darker and less vivid.”

He chuckled. “Of course. How could I not have known?” He kissed her nose. “Cass, I don’t need a long time to know I’m wild, crazy in love with you. I’ve known a fair number of women in my life, and none of them came close to affecting me the way you do. Your smile lights me inside, and the sound of your voice sets my heart racing. Just being around you makes me feel as if I could fly.”

She touched his cheek. “That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me. But I want to make sure the feelings last. To me, marriage isn’t on a trial basis. It’s a lasting commitment.”

“All I can say is every day I’ve known you, my feelings for you have grown. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make you
happy. Nothing.” He took her hand and kissed her fingers. “Nothing.” He tucked her head against his shoulder. “Now go back to sleep and don’t worry. You need your rest.”

“Okay, but tomorrow I’m going to get a prescription for the pill. And let’s not forget protection again. All right?”

“I promise.”

Cass slept better than she had in days.

When she opened her eyes, Griff was on his side, head propped in his hand, watching her. She stretched and smiled.

He leaned over and circled her nipple with his tongue, then sucked gently. “I’ve been wanting to do that for the last twenty minutes.”

“How long have you been awake?”

“Twenty minutes.” He moved to the other breast, blowing gently, then taking the hardened tip into his mouth. “Mmm.”

“Mmm, yourself. I have to brush my teeth and take a shower.”

“Sometimes hygiene is highly overrated.” His attention went back to her breast.

“Not in my book.”

“Do you have an extra toothbrush?”

“Where’s yours?”

“In my luggage. In my car. Out front. Be still.”

“Griff, I’m getting up. Let go. Ouch!”

“Sorry. Let me kiss it and make it well.”

She laughed and twisted away, batting him with her pillow. “I’ve got first dibs on the bathroom. Why don’t you make coffee?”

Considerably refreshed, she came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, to smell coffee brewing and see Griff headed toward her, naked as a jaybird.

“Where are your clothes?” she asked, trying not to stare at some of his more magnificent parts.

“In a wrinkled mess on the floor. Be right back.” He kissed her on the way to the bathroom.

“I left a new toothbrush out on the counter,” she called after him.

His clothes were indeed a wrinkled mess. She tossed them on the bed, then got out her ironing board and set the iron to heating while she dressed in capris and a cool, sleeveless top. By the time Griff exited the bathroom with a towel draped around his hips, his pants were pressed and she was steaming the last sleeve of his shirt.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Haven’t you ever seen anybody iron?” she countered.

“You’re ironing my clothes?”

“Why is that such a surprise?” She held up his shirt. “It’s no big deal. I’ve been doing it most of my life.”

His brows went up. “Ironing men’s clothes?”

“No. Ironing
my
clothes.” She smiled and held the shirt for him to slip his arms into. “I suppose the concept might be difficult to understand for a man who sends bathing suits to the laundry.” She nipped his shoulder, then slid his shirt into place. “I’ll go check on the coffee. I’m craving caffeine.”

While Griff finished dressing, she went into the kitchen and poured two cups. She emptied a packet of sweetener in hers and took a sip. Not bad.

Joining her at the counter, Griff asked, “How’s the coffee?”

“Quite good.”

“Don’t seem so surprised. I do have a few bachelor survival skills. It helps that we have the same brand of coffeemaker.”

“Small world.”

He wrapped his arms around her and grinned. “No, babe. It’s kismet.”

She snorted. “It’s coincidence. Kismet is concerned with
weightier things. And don’t expect me to make meaningful conversation until I’ve had my second cup of coffee.”

“Got it.” He opened the fridge. “What’s for breakfast? Got any eggs?”

“Nope. Today is grocery day. You can have cereal or yogurt.”

“Where’s the milk?”

“Oops. You can have yogurt.” She looked in the bread box. “And cinnamon raisin toast.”

“I’ll make the yogurt,” he said, “and you make the toast. Orange or peach?” He held up two containers.

“Since you’re the guest, you pick.” She stuck two slices of slightly hard bread into the toaster. “Grab the butter while you’re there.”

He put the tub on the table and ripped off the yogurt tops while she set out plates, napkins and tableware. When the toast popped up, she put a slice on his plate and hers, and stuck two more pieces in the toaster.

Holding her chair while she seated herself, he nuzzled her neck. “See how well we work together? A perfectly coordinated meal with all the food groups.”

Cass chuckled. “This probably isn’t an adequate test. How are you on pot roast or fried chicken?”

“We can order in.” He sat down, smeared butter on his toast and took a big bite. “Excellent, my dear. Excellent.”

She laughed. “You’re crazy.”

“What are your plans for the day—besides grocery shopping?”

“I’d planned to go for a run this morning, but I think I’ll skip it today.”

“
Au contraire,
my dear. I think a jog along the lake would be a splendid idea. As soon as we’ve eaten, I’ll go get my gear and join you.”

“Au contraire?”
She smirked at him.

“I had two years of French.”

“So did I, but I rarely say
au contraire.
”

“Me either. In fact, I don’t recall ever having the occasion to say it. What shall we do after we jog and buy groceries?”

“I want to go by and see what progress Greg has made.”

“Greg?” His left eyebrow went up. “Who’s Greg?”

“The contractor who’s renovating my houses.”

“Oh, okay. I’d like to go with you.” Griff scraped the last bite of yogurt from his carton. “And sometime today I need to find a place to live. Any chance I can move in with you?”

Stunned, she stared at him as if he’d lost his cotton-pickin’ mind.