A_Wanted Man - Alana Matthews (22 page)

He waited as Callie processed the story. It was the truth—the truth he’d never had a chance to tell her after she’d been corrupted by rumors and vicious backbiting lies. But he had no way of knowing if she believed him now.

All he could do was hope.

Then her eyes filled with tears and she brought her hands to her face.

“Oh, my God,” she said. “Oh, my God. I feel so…ashamed.”

He ran a hand over her shoulder. “No. This isn’t your fault.”

“I should have listened to you.”

“And I should have
made
you hear me. But neither of us was thinking rationally at the time. We’d just lost our best friend. We were upset and angry and too caught up in our own pain to realize what we were doing to each other.”

“I’m no better than Jonah Pritchard,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“I let pride control me. Every time I thought about you, every time I wondered where you were or what you were up to, I let it keep me from contacting you. Maybe I
am
part of that family after all.”

“Don’t even think that, Cal. You’re the exact opposite of what those people are.”

“It’s in my blood.”

“Blood has nothing to do with it,” he said. “All that matters is what’s in here.” He touched his chest, then touched hers. “Maybe you jumped to conclusions, maybe you believed what people told you, but you were broken and grieving and that can cloud anyone’s judgment. But your heart is pure, Cal. Gentle. Kind. You would never purposely hurt another human being unless you were forced to.”

“I hurt
you
,” she said.

Harlan shook his head. “You went with what felt right at the time. We both did. And it was mistake. A terrible mistake.” He cupped her chin. Tilted her head toward him. “But now we’re free. No more walls between us.”

Then he kissed her.

T
HEY MADE LOVE IN THE SHOWER
.

Both of them had been anxious to wash away the past couple days, and the decade preceding them.

They undressed together in her bathroom, Callie staring at his body, marveling at how age had made him even more attractive. The wide, hard shoulders. The strong, workingman’s arms. The ripple of his abs. And below…already showing signs of awakening as he pulled off her shirt, her jeans, her bra, her panties.

She felt her excitement build as she stared at him, anticipating him inside her, remembering the exquisite pleasure they had shared so many times, so long ago.

Then they were beneath the water, its glorious warmth washing down over them as they lathered each other with soap. Harlan rubbed the bar between his palms, then ran his hands over her breasts, pausing to caress her hardened nipples, gently clipping them between his fingers, squeezing them.

Something loosened inside of Callie. Something wet and wonderful. And as the water washed away the suds, Harlan leaned forward and put his mouth where his hands had been, using his tongue and teeth to tease her.

All she could think about was feeling him inside her. Gently pushing him away, she turned her back to him and pressed up against him, feeling his hardness. The urgency of it.

Grabbing hold of him, she guided him forward and he brought his hands to her hips and thrust into her, grunting softly. He kissed her neck, her shoulders, and Callie felt heat rising inside her, tunneling its way toward her brain, causing tiny bursts of pleasure along the way.

Then his right hand moved forward, pressing against her pelvis as he thrust, and soon they were groaning in unison, working toward that place that seemed so hard to find with other men.

But Harlan wasn’t just any man. He was her soul mate. Her true love. Her
only
love.

And as their duet of groans built to a crescendo, Callie felt her scalp start to prickle and thought for a moment that she might not survive the explosion inside her head. But then it came, wave after wave of intense pleasure causing her to cry out as Harlan went rigid against her.

But she suddenly realized that something was wrong. His reaction felt more like surprise than enjoyment. And as the last of the waves began to pass, he quickly pulled away from her, his hand gripping her arm.

Then a voice said, “Well, well, like mother like daughter. I guess skank runs in the family.”

Dread sluiced through Callie’s body as she whipped her head around to find the shower door hanging open.

Gloria Pritchard was pointing a gun at them.

Chapter Twenty-Five

“Come on, now, don’t be shy,” she said, gesturing with the gun. Her wounded thigh was stained with blood, but she didn’t seem to feel it. “Callie, I need you to step out of that shower and get yourself dried off. We’re going for a ride.”

Callie was trying to cover herself with her hands. “What are you doing here, Gloria? What do you want?”

“To finish what I started thirty-four years ago.” She gestured again. “Now get out and towel off.” She pointed the gun toward Harlan. “And you stay put, Marshal. I’ve got no argument with you.” She ran her gaze over his nakedness. “No argument at all.”

Harlan started forward. “Don’t be stupid, Ms. Pritchard. Put that thing down before you—”

The gun went off, the sound of the shot reverberating against the walls as a hole opened up in the tile above Harlan’s head.

Both Callie and Harlan flinched, ducking down involuntarily.

“You were saying, Marshal?”

Harlan didn’t move.

Gloria pointed the gun at Callie. “You’d both better listen to me or the next one ends it right here and now.”

“Ends what?” Callie asked. “Are you here because of Landry?”

Gloria laughed. “Oh, please, give me more credit than that. Now, hurry it up. I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

Callie’s heart was pounding, but she did what she was told, grabbing a towel from the rack and quickly drying herself. Then she crossed to a hook on the wall next to the sink and took her robe down, slipping into it.

As she tied it at her waist, she said, “We thought you’d be long gone by now.”

“So did I,” Gloria said. “But when I started thinking about it, I knew I had some unfinished business before I left town. I was hoping Landry would take care of you out there in Robbers Canyon, but he blew it, as usual. I hope his last minutes were painful.”

“You’re sick,” Callie said.

“Now you sound like my dear father. But you’re right. I’m sick, he’s sick, we’re all sick. Every single one of us. Including you and your love toy here. All it takes are the right circumstances at the right time. But if you want to lay blame for this, point that finger at your little slut of a mother. She’s the reason I’m here.” She gestured with the gun again. “Now turn around and back toward me.”

Again Callie did as she was told. “What does my mother have to do with any of this?”

“More than you could possibly know.”

“I don’t understand.”

Gloria grabbed hold of Callie’s waist tie and pulled her close, putting the gun to the side of Callie’s head. “Marshal, I can see that look in your eyes, but if you try anything, the first bullet is for her, the second one for you. Then I’ll go find her precious Nana Jean and put one in the old biddy while she sleeps.”

“Ms. Pritchard,” Harlan said. “Please. This isn’t gonna get you anything. There’s no upside here.”

“I beg to differ, hot stuff. The upside is the satisfaction I’ll feel when your little love muffin is finally dead.”

Callie stiffened. “But why? What have I ever done to you?”

“What do you think, Callie? You were born, that’s what.”

Again Callie was at a loss.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Gloria said, now backing her through the doorway into the bedroom. “The minute my father found out that my dear brother had gotten your mother pregnant, my entire world changed.”

“But why? What did you have to with it?”

“Because it was
my fault
, don’t you see? Your mother was my best friend, and I was the one who introduced her to Riley. If it hadn’t been for me, they never would have done the dirty.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Not according to Jonah,” Gloria said. “And because I made that happen, it only followed that it was my fault that Riley was dead. After that Jonah fed and clothed me, and gave me a place to live, but I might as well have been one of the help.”

“And you’re blaming that on my
mother
?”

Gloria backed her slowly toward the bedroom doorway. “I told her not to have the baby, but she didn’t listen to me. Said she was in love with Riley and wanted to bring his child into the world.” She paused. “So I decided to spoil her fun.”

Callie frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I started feeding her rat poison. Just little bits of it over the course of her pregnancy. I’d come over for sandwiches with her and your Nana Jean, and slip it into her iced tea.”

Callie felt gut-punched.

Gloria had
murdered
her mother?

How was that possible?

She looked toward the bathroom and saw Harlan standing there now, wearing nothing but his jeans.

Gloria said, “No need to cover up on my account, Marshal. But I wouldn’t advise you to go any farther.”

Harlan didn’t move.

“So where were we?” Gloria said to Callie. “Oh, right. Rat poison. Do you have any idea what it can do to a body?”

“I think I can figure it out.”

“It has a little substance in it called warfarin. An anticoagulant. And if you give little doses to someone over a long period of time, the symptoms are minimal, but the cumulative effect is devastating, especially for a pregnant woman.”

Callie understood. “The hemorrhaging. That’s why she bled to death.”

“The thing is,” Gloria said, “you were supposed to die, too. And if it hadn’t been for your grandmother’s fast thinking, you would have. Right here in this room.” She paused in the doorway. “I can’t tell you how many times I thought about coming over here and putting a pillow over your face. My brother was gone, my father barely spoke to me, and I had every reason in the world to see you dead. But I couldn’t get up the courage. A pillow isn’t rat poison, and I knew if I tried, I’d probably wind up getting caught. And I didn’t want that.”

Callie nodded. “But now you have nothing to lose.”

“Nothing at all,” Gloria said. “It’s all been taken away, thanks to—”

Callie hadn’t prepared for it. The move was more instinctive than planned. Swinging a fist back, she slammed it into Gloria’s wounded thigh.

Gloria grunted in pain and stumbled back—

Now Harlan was flying across the room toward them, launching into a tackle—

But Gloria recovered quickly, then raised the gun and fired. The bullet hit Harlan in the shoulder and he went down hard onto the carpet as Callie turned and grabbed hold of Gloria’s hand, trying to twist the gun away from her.

They struggled, stumbling sideways across the room, tumbling to the ground, Gloria grunting in pain again. But then she managed to break free from Callie’s grip and swung the butt of the gun toward Callie’s head, stunning her.

She scrambled away from Callie and got to her feet, holding her thigh with one hand as she turned the gun toward Callie.

“Nice try, but no cigar.” Her finger brushed against the trigger. “Like I said, Cal, better late than nev—”

A gunshot rang out and Gloria froze in place, her eyes at first quizzical, then widening as she realized she’d been hit.

She looked down in surprise at the hole in her chest, then pitched forward, dead.

That was when Callie saw Nana Jean standing on the other side of the doorway, Grandpa’s old World War Two revolver in her hand.

“That little witch killed my Mary.”

Then she stared at the gun as if it were a foreign object, and dropped it to the floor.

Epilogue

No one mourned for Gloria. Jonah Pritchard refused to pay for her funeral, so she was buried in a pauper’s plot at the city cemetery.

Megan Pritchard’s trial was mercifully short, with minimal publicity—a near miracle in this day of electronic communications. She was found guilty of murder, kidnapping and conspiracy to commit murder and sentenced to life imprisonment at Wyoming State Penitentiary.

Sheriff’s investigators took a closer look at the fire at Pritchard Ranch and came to the conclusion that Landry Bickham was the likely culprit, having set it to help make Gloria look like a victim. No one was ever sure who killed Billy Boy’s partner, Brett, but at this point it didn’t much matter.

Nobody saw much of Jonah Pritchard after that. He lived in seclusion at the newly built Pritchard Ranch, surrounded by people who saw him as nothing more than a paycheck.

It was, Callie thought, a fitting punishment for man who had no soul.