Wedlocked?! (5 page)

Well, that same stubborn pride damn well wasn't going to let her down now.

Swallowing, she turned and gave him a steady,
dry-eyed stare. She refused to tremble or to show the slightest sign of weakness. “I asked you to leave. This was a mistake. We'll have to discuss the case at my office during work hours.”

Cole started to speak and then he must have seen her determination. Sighing, he speared his fingers through his hair. The familiar gesture was nearly Annie's undoing.

“This isn't over,” he said as he spun on his heel and grabbed his jacket from the dining room chair.

“This is
my
investigation,” she felt compelled to remind him as he headed for the door. “As Lily's attorney, you have a right to be kept informed, but you're not going to order me around or tell me how to do my job.”

Cole hesitated, his hand on the knob. “Then you damn well better come up with something soon. You're supposed to be a real hotshot P.I. It's time you proved it.”

As Annie sputtered furiously, trying to come up with a suitable retort, he yanked open the door and went out, pulling it closed behind him. The
click
of the latch echoed in the sudden silence of her town house like a gunshot.

T
he moment Cole shut the door behind him, he felt a stab of regret. Annie's words, telling him how much he'd hurt her, echoed in his head. Too bad he couldn't go back and talk to her, but he had no idea how to make things better between them. It was years too late for that.

Resolutely he headed toward his car. She was the one who'd thrown him out, he reminded himself with a righteous little twitch of his shoulders. He couldn't go back if he wanted to. She was in no mood to listen, and he had no idea what to say if she was. Tell her again that he was sorry? That he regretted letting her down? That he wanted a second chance?

Cole climbed behind the wheel. Where the hell had that idea come from? Annie was a different person from the one who had loved him so unconditionally; she was a lot tougher now and more independent. He was the last thing she needed.

He had changed too. Except for his mother, there was nothing for Cole in San Antonio, not anymore. His life was in Denver.

Driving out of the tree-lined parking lot, he resisted the urge to examine that life too closely. Despite the promise of a partnership in the near future at his law firm, he'd been feeling restless lately. That had to be normal considering everything that had happened—his mother's arrest for murder, followed by her confession that Ryan's late brother Cameron was his real father. Hell, anyone would feel a little disoriented after being hit with all that.

Besides, he reasoned as he glanced down at the speedometer and eased his foot off the gas, before he and Annie had broken up, he'd begged her to defend herself against those charges and to give him some kind of explanation he could understand, but she had refused. How was he supposed to have known she really was innocent? He wasn't psychic, after all!

Feeling justified, Cole kept his speed well under the limit as he headed toward Ryan's ranch. Halfway there, the storm that had been threatening all day finally broke over his car, pummeling his windshield with raindrops as fat and squishy as caterpillars. Explosions of thunder crashed around him and lightning filled the sky.

 

Damn the man! Hands shaking with reaction, Annie poured hot water over a tea bag in one of her favorite cat mugs and forced herself to take several deep, calming breaths. The rumble of thunder that rattled the windows and sent Sluggo slinking up the
stairs to the relative safety beneath her bed seemed like a fitting conclusion to the scene that had just taken place in her living room.

Where had Annie lost control of the situation with Cole? When he'd disparaged her abilities? When he'd pretended to be oh, so concerned for her safety? Or when
she
had blurted out how devastated she'd been by their breakup?

Old, invulnerable Annie had finally let down her guard and exposed her weakness—that was what really had her bugged. Tears filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. Not to mention the fact that he'd actually left when she told him to. Damn it, she wanted him to argue, to fight, to hang on when she pushed him away.

Juggling her mug of tea, Annie swiped at her wet cheeks. She hated for him to know how much he'd wounded her, how much his betrayal
still
hurt. And she hated seeing how easily he left—just as he had when he'd moved to Denver and started a new life, as though what they'd created together didn't even matter.

Lightning flashed and rain beat against the windows as she sipped the tea, burning her tongue. She hoped Cole's pricy sedan had a leak in the roof and that his fancy suit would get soaked in the downpour.

Well, maybe she couldn't take back her impulsive confession, but at least she could do something about finding Clint Lockhart. First thing tomorrow
she was going back to the Double Crown to question one of the ranch hands again. He'd seemed nervous when she first talked to him, making her suspect that he knew more than he was letting on. Someone had to have heard where Lockhart went after he quit the Double Crown without notice and dropped out of sight.

That settled, Annie curled up on the couch and reached for the TV remote. Perhaps, if the storm hadn't knocked out the cable, there would be a movie on that would lull her jangled nerves so she could get some sleep. She'd barely gotten comfortable when Sluggo came back down the stairs and jumped up next to her, looking for reassurance. Annie stroked his wide head and listened to his ragged purring.

At least there was one male in her life she could count on for unconditional affection. She'd be smart to remember that.

Her mind wandered as she watched the movie, a badly plotted thriller about a woman being stalked by a psycho. Since the heroine persisted in taking foolish chances despite several close calls and numerous warnings by the police, it was difficult to sympathize when she was nearly killed walking alone down a dark, deserted alley.

With a murmur of impatience, Annie turned off the television. In the blessed silence that followed, she mentally reviewed her conversation with the ranch hand she wanted to question again. Although
she was sure she'd never seen the man before, something about him seemed familiar.

She'd dug out her notes and was going back over the police report when his name, Don Flynn, jumped out at her. What a coincidence! Lockhart and Flynn had been bunkhouse roommates. Yet he hadn't seen fit to mention that to her, not even when she asked how well he knew Lockhart.

According to the report, Lockhart had gotten a phone call the night of the murder. The cowboy who'd knocked on his door to get him told the police later that Lockhart had refused to take the call, claiming he was too tired to get up. The other man didn't remember what time the call came in, and he hadn't actually seen Lockhart. Flynn was the one who volunteered that he woke up and looked at his clock, corroborating Lockhart's alibi.

So why was Annie reluctant to eliminate him as a suspect? She reread Flynn's statement, checking for loopholes. Several other bunkhouse residents remembered seeing Lockhart in the common room earlier, but none of them could say for sure when he'd gone to bed.

Annie rubbed her tired eyes. What wasn't she seeing?

 

The last voice Cole expected to hear through the open doorway of Ryan's office at the ranch house early the next morning was Annie's. For a brief mo
ment, he wondered if she'd come to apologize for tossing him out. Then he caught her words.

“I want to talk to him again,” she was telling Ryan. “He's scared, and I think he's hiding something.”

As Cole hovered in the hallway, Ryan came out of the office with Annie. They both stopped when they saw Cole.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, obviously surprised. She was wearing jeans and a bright yellow T-shirt, with her hair in its usual ponytail. Earrings shaped like pineapples danced from her ears.

“Cole's staying with us,” Ryan explained. “It made more sense than for him to take a room in town, and it's especially nice for Lily to have him around.”

“Of course,” Annie murmured, her gaze avoiding Cole's.

“I hope you aren't here to question Mom again,” he said. “I don't think there's anything more she could add to what she's already told you.”

“Don't forget that Annie's on our side,” Ryan chided. “She's here for a follow-up with one of the ranch hands, but I was trying to persuade her to join me for coffee first.”

Annie glanced from Ryan to Cole, her smile fading. “And I was telling Ryan that I'm under a great deal of pressure to find a new lead,” she said sweetly. “In spite of the fact that my investigative methods have been called into question.”

It was Ryan's turn to look from one to the other of them with obvious puzzlement. “Not by me,” he said staunchly. “I have great faith in your abilities.”

“Thank you.” Annie looked as though she already regretted her outburst.

“Who's been pressuring you?” Ryan demanded. “Not Lily. She understands that unearthing the truth takes time.”

“Oh, no,” Annie said quickly. “Lily has been very cooperative.” She gave Cole a haughty look and pressed her lips together.

“I think it's me Annie's referring to,” he admitted. “We had a little misunderstanding last night that we need to clear up.”

“Problems with the case?” Ryan asked.

“Among other things.” Cole would be damned if he'd go into detail, especially with Annie glowering at him. “Nothing we can't work out, though.”

“Perhaps the two of you would like to use my office,” Ryan suggested, stepping aside. “I'll have Rosita bring you some coffee.”

“Coffee won't be necessary, thanks,” Annie said. “This will only take a moment. I want to catch up with Flynn.”

“I'll be waiting to take you to him,” Ryan said, and then he excused himself. As soon as he left, Cole followed Annie into the office, shutting the door and leaning his shoulder against it.

She whirled to face him, arms folded across her
chest. “I can't take time to talk now,” she said impatiently. “I don't want to keep Ryan waiting.”

“Would you just listen to me?” Cole asked, blocking her attempt to reach for the knob. He extended his hand in a conciliatory gesture, but she avoided his touch. Getting along together didn't seem to be an option.

“What do you want?” Her voice was edged with impatience and her eyes were dark with some emotion he couldn't read.

For his mother's sake, Cole tried again. “I'm sorry for some of the things I said last night.” It surprised him how easily the words came out once he started. “I didn't mean to be so critical. You're doing a good job on this case and I admire your thoroughness.” He jammed his hands into his pockets. “That's all.”

For a moment Annie just looked at him while he tried to figure out what else to say. Then she relaxed her stance. “Okay,” she said on a huff of expelled air. “Apology accepted.”

“Would you mind explaining to me what you're going to do next?” Cole asked carefully. “I thought you already questioned the ranch employees. Who's this Flynn character?”

Briefly Annie filled him in. “He's holding back,” she concluded. “I think something, or someone, has got him scared to talk.”

Rocking on his heels, Cole studied her. With those silly pineapple earrings she didn't look so
tough, but he felt as though he were picking his way across a minefield just the same. “Fear could make Flynn dangerous.”

“The man's ready to bolt at his own shadow,” Annie scoffed. “He doesn't worry me.”

She still got to him, Cole realized with dismay. As if it were yesterday when he'd last held her, kissed her, he could remember her taste and the way her mouth softened under his. Damn!

“Whoever's scaring Flynn should worry you some,” he said roughly, and then he realized he was doing it again. He eased back a notch. “Just be careful. I'd hate to have to find another P.I. at this point.”

Her laugh stabbed him like a small, sharp knife. “I'm always careful.”

Was her voice a shade huskier than usual? He wasn't sure. He just knew he'd better get out of Ryan's office before he did something guaranteed to shatter the tentative truce they seemed to have forged. Opening the door, he stepped back to let her by. When she looked up, her expression had lost some of its hostility.

“I'll keep you posted,” she offered, and then she hurried away, leaving him to speculate as to whether it was possible that he bothered her anywhere near as much as she did him.

He was still working on that puzzle when he joined his mother for breakfast in the small sunroom. The way her face lit up made him feel guilty
for the resentment he was still struggling with. Why couldn't he put his feelings aside? At the time she had done what she thought was best. He didn't have to agree with her to accept her motives.

“Good morning, darling,” she exclaimed. “How did you sleep?”

What if, despite his best efforts, his mother was convicted? He shuddered to think of her in a prison cell. She was too vibrant for confinement, bubbling over with happiness now that she and Ryan had found each other again.

If Cole's efforts failed, he would always wonder if his personal feelings had held him back or clouded his judgment in some way. Dammit, he had to clear her!

“I slept well. How about you?” He leaned down to kiss her cheek. When he straightened, she searched his face as if she was looking for an answer to some unspoken question.

“What is it they say? I'm doing as well as can be expected, I guess.” Her smile was brave, but there were dark smudges beneath her eyes. “Have you talked to Annie?” she asked. “Is there any progress?”

Cole pulled back the chair next to hers and sat down. “I just saw her. She was going to talk to one of Ryan's employees.” He reached for the coffee carafe and topped off her cup before filling one for himself.

“Annie will find something,” his mother said
with forced confidence. She speared a chunk of melon with her fork, but then she merely pushed it around her plate.

“You aren't eating enough,” he admonished her. Was it his destiny to make sure the women in his life got fed?

She laughed softly. “Have you been talking to Ryan?” she teased. “The two of you seem determined to fatten me up.” She glanced at the empty spot on the table in front of him. “What about you? Have some breakfast.”

He shrugged. “Just coffee for me. I'll get something later.” He would never tell her that grim image of her looking out from behind bars had destroyed his appetite. “Any news on the kidnapping?” he asked.

Her smile faded, and he wished he'd kept his mouth shut. “No, nothing.” A note demanding several million dollars' ransom had shown up on the one-year anniversary of Ryan's grandson Bryan Fortune's disappearance, but no one had tried to pick up the money. Shortly after the baby had been kidnapped, the FBI recovered another male baby bearing the unique Fortune birthmark, the same mark Cole himself wore. No one knew where this child had come from, but since they knew he was a Fortune, all the Fortune males were tested for paternity. The test proved Matthew was his father. Matthew had claimed he never cheated on his wife Claudia, saying the only way he could be the father was from
a sperm bank donation years ago. Lately the Fortune family had had more than their share of devastating luck.