Texas Rebels: Egan. Linda Warren
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the ugly faces of evil. He’d thought he was tough, but he didn’t know tough until he had to stand toe-to-toe with hardened criminals.
“I feel so stupid,” she murmured.
“Why?” Her words brought him back from the abyss that always threatened to take him down.
“Because I’m a coward. I should have stayed on US 77 and I’d be home now, facing my past the way I was supposed to. The way I’d planned.”
“You have a past?” He couldn’t imagine what kind of a dire past a beautiful blonde could have.
“My parents spoiled me terribly.”
“Pardon me, but I don’t consider that a past.”
“If you’ll listen, I’ll tell you,” she snapped.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I love the way you say ma’am.”
“I say it like everybody else in Texas.”
“No, you say it with respect and I feel it.”
That threw him, so he just sat and stared at the blanket of twinkling stars and waited for her to speak.
“My mother was killed when I was seventeen.”
“I remember that. She was shot by gang members while walking to her car in a mall, right?”
“Yes. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time...all because of me.”
He knew he should stop with the questions. He didn’t want to get any more involved with her than he already was. But something in her voice prompted him to ask, “What did you have to do with it?”
She didn’t answer and the silence stretched. They kept looking at the beautiful night sky above them. Then her voice came, low and achy. “I haven’t told anyone this and I don’t know why I’m telling you. I just need to say the words—to hear them out loud.” She paused. “It happened on a Friday. There was a dance at my school on Saturday and I wanted this special dress that I’d seen. I begged and begged my mother to buy it, and she said no, that I had plenty of dresses.” A muffled sound followed the words and he knew Rachel was crying. He remained still, not making any movement because he had a feeling she didn’t want him to react. And he wasn’t comfortable with that type of emotion.
“She must’ve changed her mind because that’s what she was doing at the mall—buying my dress. The police gave it to me later and I threw it in the garbage. I killed...my mother.”
“Come on, you can’t possibly believe that.”
“She wouldn’t have been at that mall if I hadn’t continually kept asking for the dress.”
“But it was her choice to go.”
Rachel rested her chin on her knees. “My mother was the most loving person I’ve ever known, and she didn’t deserve to die like that. I just can’t forget it and I’ve tried. For twelve years I’ve been trying. I went to art school in Paris, hoping that would obliterate the guilt, but it didn’t. I longed for home and my mother. But she wasn’t there anymore.”
“I don’t know anything about your mother, but I’m almost positive she wouldn’t want you to live with the guilt.”
“I tell myself that all the time and it doesn’t make that ache go away.”
“Have you talked to someone in your family?”
The answer was a long time coming. “No. I wanted to tell my best friend, Angie, and my brother, but I could never find the right words.”
Egan stared into the darkness and tried to find words of his own to help her. That blew his mind, because he didn’t want to help her. But there was something about her that just begged for protection. His mama had always told him he could never resist a person in need. Even when he considered them the enemy.
“You don’t have a past. You have a guilt complex, and the only way to get rid of it is to talk to your family, the ones who are close to you.” Judge Hollister’s name stuck in his craw and he couldn’t say it out loud.
“That’s what I finally decided to do. You probably know that my brother, Hardy, married Angie Wiznowski, and they have a new baby. I’m dying to see him and to meet their older daughter, Erin, so I planned to come home and deal with all the guilt. And what did I do?” She slapped the top of her knee with her right hand. “At the last minute, I balked and stalled for time by taking the long way and getting lost. Now here I sit with a very nice stranger, wondering if maybe I’m losing my mind.”
“You’re not. Tomorrow we’ll make it to the ranch and you can call your family and talk and tell them how you’re feeling. I’m told talking works wonders.”
“Mmm. You don’t like to talk, do you?”
“Nope. It’s not my favorite thing.”
“Are you married?”
They were getting into personal territory and he certainly didn’t like that. Talking about himself was his least favorite subject. A coyote howled in the distance, diverting her attention.
“How close is that?” she asked, edging a little nearer to him.
“Not very.”
“You didn’t answer my question. Are you married?”
He gritted his teeth. She was one of those women who just wouldn’t let go. “No. I’m not married. If I was, I wouldn’t be spending the night in these woods.”
“Have you ever been married?”
“Ma’am, it’s time to get some rest.”
“Since you said that so nicely, I will.” She wrapped her arms around herself “It’s getting chilly.”
“You can use the duster. It’ll keep you warm.”
“I will not.” She shoved her right arm into a sleeve. “Now, do the same with your left.”
“What...”
“Remember, you said no complaining.”
He shoved his arm into the hole and it drew them together inside the duster. Maybe too close together. A flowery scent from her hair reached his nostrils, and he wanted to pull away, but there was nowhere to go.
“See, this way we both can stay warm,” she said, with a smile in her voice. “Now we just lie back and go to sleep.”
He grunted, but did as she’d instructed. It took a moment for them to get comfortable. They tried several positions, and finally, lying on their sides worked best. Her soft curves fitted nicely into his hardened body. It had been a long time since he’d been with a woman and the feeling was doing a familiar number on his senses. All he had to do was remember who she was and his mind cleared. For a second.
“Are you going to sleep with your hat on?”
“Is that a problem?”
“No.” She wiggled against him and that was a problem. “I just find it strange.”
“I spent a lot of time in these woods, and on one occasion I took off my hat and the next morning it was gone. A varmint had stolen it. A raccoon is probably wearing it now.”
“I like you, Egan Rebel.”
Don’t like me. Please don’t like me!
“Go to sleep.”
“Call me ma’am.”
“Go to sleep.”
“I will if...”
“Go to sleep...ma’am.”
She laughed, a tingly sound that warmed parts of his heart that had been cold for a long time. He