Hitched! Page 21

  If Rand wasn’t in by now, he never would be.

  Bill apparently noted her change of mood, for he said, “Why don’t we go back to my suite for a quick drink. It’s much more comfortable than this coffee shop.”

  “I’d love to,” she declared warmly, thinking that if Rand expected her to disappear and let him play hero, he was sadly mistaken. Bill’s invitation fit in nicely with her plans.

  The elevator was crowded when they entered on the casino floor, but by the time they reached eighteen, only the two of them remained. Beyond an occasional leer, Bill had been a perfect gentleman.

  She didn’t expect that to last.

  At his door, he fumbled for his key card. “Look, I’ve got at least an hour before I have to, uh, meet a business associate,” he said. “That should be plenty of time for us to have that little drink and get better acquainted. As for your sister, I think I’ve put your mind at ease. Helen was a wonderful secretary, but I never really knew her very well—”

  The door swung open and Bill gestured her inside, his expression lecherous. Which was a good thing, because when he was looking at her, he couldn’t see Rand round a corner into the foyer and start forward.

  But if Bill turned suddenly—

  Maxi threw her arms around Bill Overton’s neck, uttered a breathless, “I can’t thank you enough!” and kissed him.

  OKAY, Maxi had done the job Rand sent her to do, but what the hell was she doing here and why was she kissing that snake? Grabbing Bill’s collar, Rand hauled him out of her arms and around to face retribution.

  It took the discombobulated man just an instant to realize he was in big trouble. His eyes went wide and panicky. “Rand! How did you find me?”

  “If I told you, you wouldn’t believe it.” Rand drew back a fist. “You low-down double-dealing skunk. You robbed me blind.”

  “I can explain everything!” Bill held up his hands in supplication, palms facing out. “This is all a big mistake. I didn’t steal your money, H-Helen did. That’s why she has the safe-deposit key. I’m meeting her later tonight to talk her into giving it all back. Then—”

  “You lying sack of shit!” Kristi’s strident voice announced her arrival from the bedroom, Helen hot on her heels. “You did it! You strung this poor kid along just like you always do—and I believed you when you said you’d changed.” She looked at Helen for agreement. “How dumb is that? If it hadn’t been for Renny—”

  “Renny?” Bill appeared horrified.

  “R. Renwood Keever, you fool! He called to find out where you were meeting your mistress. Otherwise, I’d still be sitting on that island drinking mai tais and waiting for my faithful husband’s return. Of course, Renny also wormed a few details out of me, but that’s beside the point. Can you believe that shyster followed Helen here with a gun to take that key from her? If Rand hadn’t been around—”

  “Honey, baby, what are you talking about?” Bill started toward her but veered unexpectedly to lash out at Rand with a wild right hook. His fist landed a glancing blow on the side of Rand’s jaw, sending him staggering back into the cocktail table. He went down with a mighty crash.

  Maxi rushed to his aid, but Bill straightened with a pistol in his hand before she could launch her attack. He pointed it right at her.

  “Hold it! Everybody over there against that wall. All except Helen.” He waved the weapon at the cowering secretary. “I want that key.”

  “I don’t have it.” She sidled over behind Kristi. Peering out, she added, “How can you do this to me, Billy? You said you loved me.”

  “I don’t love you, you silly bitch. I used you. Now, give me the damn key.” He waggled his fingers impatiently. “Helen, I’m warning you—”

  Rand, still on his knees, dived for Bill’s legs. Bill toppled over backward, the pistol flying across the room to slide beneath a chair. Rand heaved himself up to straddle his former friend, his only desire to get his hands around that lying creep’s neck.

  One of the women screamed, but Rand was too busy fighting a buzz saw to worry about that. If he could just hold this guy down long enough to—

  “Cease immediately and get your hands up!”

  What the hell? Rand battled flailing fists. Grunting, he managed to heave Bill over onto his stomach. Holding the frantic man down with one knee in his back, Rand finally looked up—straight into the muzzle of Bill’s pistol in the uncertain hands of R. Renwood Keever.

  This would damn well be the last time he ever used a necktie to bind and gag a bad guy.

  Keever’s eyes glowed with a feverish light. “The key,” he snarled. “Whoever’s got that key, give it to me now or—” He made a slashing motion across his own throat with the pistol for illustration.

  Nobody moved a muscle.

  “I mean it. Helen, give me that key.”

  “I don’t have it!” She crouched lower behind Kristi.

  Who snapped, “Don’t look at me. If I had the damn key, would I have come looking for that bozo?” She sneered at her husband, now flat on his belly and held there by Rand’s knee.

  “You, then.” Keever swung the weapon toward Maxi.

  “I don’t know anything about a key except what you told me.”

  “I believe you,” R. Renwood said. “As a Mata Hari, you’re a total bust.” His smile was malicious. “That only leaves you, Mr. Randall Taggart.” Stepping forward, he pressed the muzzle of the revolver directly behind Rand’s left ear.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  MAXI’S SCREAM nearly split Rand’s eardrums.

  Apparently it had the same effect on R. Renwood Keever, for his hand jerked even as he fired the pistol. A bullet buzzed past Rand’s ear to tear a hole in the wall.

  Without waiting to assess the damage, Rand leaped to his feet and lunged for Keever’s gun hand. Surprisingly the shady lawyer didn’t fight to retain the weapon, just let it go and rushed toward the front door.

  It opened in his face, bringing his flight to a premature conclusion.

  “Police officers! Everybody halt and get your hands in the air—now.”

  It was over.

  Mostly.

  “EVERYBODY SHUT UP.”

  The cacophony of sound ceased abruptly. With weary patience, the middle-aged Chicago detective who’d led Las Vegas officers in the bust surveyed the little group wedged into the LVPD office. Everybody had been talking at once, with the exception of Bill Overton, already behind bars. Who might yet join him was anybody’s guess.

  “That’s better,” the cop said. “I never saw such a mad bunch of people. Maybe if I let you all get it off your chest, we can get down to business.” He faced Maxi. “Who are you mad at, lady?”

  Maxi glared at Rand. “Rand Taggart. He promised he wouldn’t involve the police.”

  The cop didn’t flick an eyelash, just turned to Helen. “And you’re mad at…?”

  “My sister.” Helen’s glare matched Maxi’s. “I trusted her and she betrayed me to him.” She indicated Rand with a stiff forefinger.

  “I see. How about you, lady. Who you mad at?”

  Kristi rolled her eyes. “My no-good philandering husband, who swore he’d stop cheating the last time I caught him at it.”

  Helen gasped. “You mean I’m not the first?”

  “Honey,” Kristi said, “you’re probably not the tenth. How do you think I got him from his second wife? Bill was born a hound dog and he’ll die a hound dog, which doesn’t get that damn ambulance-chasing attorney off the hook. I wouldn’t even be here if he hadn’t tipped me off.”

  The policeman indicated Keever. “Your turn. Who’re you mad at?”

  The gaunt attorney curled his lip. “Basically,” he said to the cop, “you. I’d have got away scot-free if you hadn’t shown up. And Overton, of course—I’m mad at him for trying to stiff me in the first place. As for you, Mrs. Overton, all I wanted from you was a time and a place. Don’t blame me if you insisted on knowing why.”

  The officer swiveled in his chair so h
e could look at Rand. “You get the last word, Taggart. Before we start putting the facts of this case together, who are you mad at?”

  Hell, Rand was mad at everybody. He’d been played for a chump and it didn’t sit well. But there was only one real villain.

  “All roads lead to Bill Overton,” he rasped. “His hand’s in everything. What I don’t know is, was he the one asking questions about me in Texas or is something else going on?”

  “That would be me,” Keever said. “Done in all innocence on my part, I assure you. My client, Mr. Overton, wished to know how close you were to catching up with him.”

  “Not very, until my blushing bride decided to speak up.” Rand’s indignant glance zeroed in on Maxi. “And I didn’t call the police.”

  “Then how did they just happen to show up?” Maxi shot back.

  “I can answer that,” the cop offered. “We’ve been tailing your sister since she got out of jail, ma’am. We figured she’d eventually lead us to Overton.” His sudden grin seemed out of place until he added, “We just didn’t know she’d also lead us to the entire cast of Looney Tunes.”

  Nobody could dredge up anything greater than a pained smile, so he went on more soberly. “We need to ask a few questions before we let anybody go, but we’ve got the guy we were after. Now, if you’ll just hand over that key, Mr. Taggart—”

  Rand fished out the safe-deposit key entrusted to him by Helen once she’d been overwhelmed by Kristi’s diatribe. That earned him a shocked glance from Maxi, which he ignored. “I’ve got to be back in Texas by tomorrow night,” he said. “It’s important.”

  “That’s doable.” The policeman reached for the telephone, adding, “God willing and the creeks don’t rise.”

  RAND AND MAXI arrived at the Rocking T Ranch in a driving rainstorm at ten o’clock on the last day of September. They’d barely spoken since leaving Las Vegas. Maxi was beginning to wonder if he ever intended to speak to her again.

  Topping the rise above the ranch house, he slammed on the brakes and said, “Shi—oot!”

  “What’s wrong?” She braced her hands against the dashboard.

  “Look for yourself. They’re all here, every last one of ’em.”

  Several cars were indeed parked beside the house. “You knew they were coming for your birthday,” she pointed out, wanting to wish him a happy one but doubting he’d take it in the spirit offered.

  He drove on. “I was hoping that when they realized we weren’t here, they’d wait in town.” His tone hardened. “What the hell. I’m doomed anyway. Let’s get this over with.”

  Maxi yearned to protest, but what was there to say? He was probably right. Even if he wasn’t, she’d still be in his doghouse—and he didn’t even know her final and most potentially damaging secret. Lips pressed in a tight line, she waited until he braked behind all the cars there ahead of them, then she leaped out and ran through the rain for the door. Inside the house, she stopped short.

  Kit, Rachel, Meg and Clementine looked up from the large photo album open on a table before them. Kit said, “At last!” and Meg started forward.

  “Maxine, we’ve been so worried. Where on earth did you and Rand disappear to?”

  “We—” Maxi struggled for an explanation that didn’t include, We went to Las Vegas, caught a bad guy who’d bilked Rand out of all his money and completely obliterated any chance we might have had for a future together.

  Meg put an arm around Maxi’s shoulder. “Never mind that now. You’re soaked. Come dry off and then we can sort all this out.”

  At that moment, Rand entered. Rainwater streamed from his face and hair and his shirt clung to his chest and arms. Elemental and almost frightening, he walked through the room without so much as a greeting for the women staring at him openmouthed.

  “My goodness,” Meg said helplessly. “I guess we’ve got more to sort out than I realized.”

  Taking Maxi’s arm, Meg steered her toward the stairs.

  MAXI LEANED over the bathroom sink, tears of defeat mingling with the rain wet upon her cheeks. What a mess…and it wasn’t over. Now she had to face a roomful of nice people who would, in the end, be forced to deny Rand his due.

  It was all her fault.

  The sooner this ended, the better. After drying her face and hair, she folded the towel and put it back onto the rack, took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and walked out into the bedroom.

  Meg sat at the foot of the bed, smoothing a hand over the quilt. She looked up with a smile. “One of Rand’s ancestors made this quilt,” she said.

  To Maxi’s horror, tears began to roll down her cheeks again. “I’m not surprised,” she managed to say. “Everything here…has some special meaning…and I…I…”

  Meg took the weeping woman in her arms. “There, there,” she said, patting Maxi’s shoulder. “Nothing can be this bad.”

  “Oh, no?” Swallowing back her grief, Maxi brushed angrily at damp cheeks. “It’s worse. Rand’s furious with me and I don’t blame him.”

  “If he loves you, he’ll get over it.”

  “Yes, if.” Maxi said the final word hopelessly.

  “You love him, don’t you?”

  “I…” Mouth gone dry, Maxi stared at Rand’s mother. Dared she say so out loud?

  “Why do you hesitate?” Meg asked gently. “You were in that bathroom crying over him, and that wouldn’t happen if you didn’t care…a lot. You love him, Maxine. You should be proud to say so.”

  “Meg…”

  “Do you love my son?”

  “Yes.” It was barely a whisper. “But…” She couldn’t add what she felt: Not that it will do me any good. As long as a single chance was left that Rand might get his inheritance, she wouldn’t let him down.

  Maybe there was something she could give him for his birthday.

  “Meg,” she said impulsively, “I need to speak to Jesse privately. Would it be all right?”

  “Of course. I’ll get him.” Meg’s lovely blue eyes revealed curiosity, but she didn’t ask any questions, just went to fetch her husband.

  “MEG SAYS you want me.”

  Maxi turned from the window and the continuing rain outside. Rand’s father stood just inside the door, tall and hard and eyeing her with caution.

  She nodded. “Thanks for coming.” She swallowed hard, aware of his coolly assessing look. “It…it’s about Rand.”

  “What about him?”

  How to say this? With no time for finesse, she spoke bluntly. “How do you feel about him, Jesse? Is he a complete disappointment to you?”

  The tall Texan recoiled. “What the hell are you talking about, girl? He’s my son and I love him. Yeah, I’ve been disappointed in him from time to time, but I’ve been damn proud of him, too. Where do you get these cockeyed ideas?”

  “From—”

  “Damn! That really torques my jaw.” He took a couple of steps forward, hands clenching at his side. “Why would you think such a thing, Max? Surely you don’t believe it.”

  “No,” she said, “I don’t, but Rand does. Maybe it’s time you told him how you feel.”

  Seeing the shock on this hard man’s face, she wondered if she’d screwed up yet again.

  RAND DRIED HIMSELF in the bathroom off the screened-in back porch, and he was steaming. Let Max—make that Maxi—have the upstairs. He didn’t want to run into her until he had to.

  Towel covering his head, he rubbed vigorously, but not vigorously enough to muffle his father’s voice.

  “What the hell’s goin’ on, kid?”

  Slowly Rand lowered the towel. “What makes you think anything’s going on?”

  “I didn’t just fall off a turnip truck,” Jesse said bluntly. “But let’s take first things first. You and Maxine disappear, then show up again not even talkin’ to each other. I’d say something’s goin’ on, all right.”

  “We were in Las Vegas,” Rand said shortly. Stripping off his soaking shirt, he looked around as if he expected to find a fresh o
ne.

  Which he did, in his father’s hands. He took it and pulled it over his head. Emerging, he said, “Thanks.”

  “Yeah. So what’s your beef with your wife, besides the fact that she talks when she should be listenin’?”

  Rand let out a pained breath. “If you must know, she lied to me.”

  Jesse considered for a moment. “And your point is?”

  Rand couldn’t believe it. “You don’t think that’s important? What if Mom lied to you? How would you like that?”

  “She has and I didn’t.” Jesse hooked thumbs through the belt loops of his Wranglers. “When she left with you, she told me she’d made a mistake and the marriage was over. She hadn’t and it wasn’t, but she put all three of us through hell before that little lie got found out.”

  “That’s why you two lived apart all those years? What in hell made her do that?”

  “Jealousy.” Jesse’s gray eyes narrowed. “What did you think?”

  “I thought it was me,” Rand said slowly. “I thought you didn’t…want a son.”

  Jesse’s face contorted with what could only be pain…and something harder to pin down. He turned away, hesitated, turned back awkwardly. “Every man wants a son,” he said. “I…loved you and your mother both, and I wanted you both to be happy. She swore that in Boston, you were. I was too damn pig-headed to push it the way I should have.”

  “I never got over that separation,” Rand said. “I never felt as if I measured up to what you wanted in a son.”

  Fire flared in Jesse’s eyes. “Never measured up? Damn, boy, you’ve always measured up, just not in the areas I’d have picked for you. I wanted you to follow in my footsteps and instead you took after your mama’s side of the family. That was a big disappointment, but I didn’t love you any less for it.”

  Rand couldn’t believe this was his father talking. All choked up, he managed a weak, “Dad…”

  Jesse grabbed his son in a big, embarrassed bear hug, then quickly let him go. “Now, about you and that wife of yours—” He spoke gruffly, as if uncomfortable with this display of emotion.