Soldier's Redemption (24 page)

“It’s the truth,” her uncle said. “Eleanor strangled Lenora. She was so strong back then. When she admitted to me what she’d done, I knew I had to protect her. It was my fault, all my fault, and I couldn’t let her suffer.”

“So you killed an innocent man and his wife?”

“Lenora’s father told Charles I had murdered his daughter. Charles would have unearthed the truth. He was a very clever man, and he never took anything at face value. If he’d dug deeper, he would have figured out it was Eleanor. Oh, God, Mary and the kids weren’t supposed to be home. And then everything just kept getting worse.”

“So you and Smirnoff framed the Roman family for the ambassador’s murder and spirited away the children.”

“I wanted them all to disappear, and Alexie made it happen. He was brilliant with falsifying records and creating bogus documents. The only one we kept tabs on was the oldest, but he’d lost his memory and didn’t seem to present much of a threat. When he came back here years later, it became clear we had to get rid of the family that raised him and, ultimately, him, too. Smirnoff was a very...competent man.”

“And then after his death, Banderas found his records and came up with the plan to ship young girls away with fake American passports,” Cole said.

“Ian immediately sensed the value of the records when it came to manipulating me,” Luca said. “But there’s a limit to my wealth and he wanted more.” He shook his head. “I should have killed the little bastard when I had the chance.”

Skylar turned into Cole’s arms and buried her head against his chest. Her aunt had done what her uncle couldn’t. She’d pulled the trigger.

Epilogue

Five months later, the Hunt Ranch in Montana

Cole put a hand down, which Skylar caught. He pulled her up into the saddle to sit before him, nuzzling the back of her neck with his nose, breathing in the scent of her. She leaned back against him and sighed.

He’d been on Tyler’s ranch for several weeks now, as had John and Paige, who were getting married in the morning. He’d met Tyler’s wife, and their newborn son whom they’d named Charles, and Tyler’s adoptive mother, Rose. For the first time in his life, he’d been part of what felt like a real family, found a bum knee didn’t keep him from enjoying riding and roping and that he seemed to have a natural flair for both.

And Rose had declared that as far as she was concerned, she now had three sons, and this ranch was their home.

All that had been missing was Skylar, who had remained in Kanistan to help her aunt and uncle sell the gallery. The fallout from Banderas’s scheme had caused a countrywide scandal and the demand that every child shipped overseas be found and returned. Skylar had helped with that, too, but now she was back in the States and said she wouldn’t go back to Kanistan.

“I can’t bear to watch them anymore,” she said now. “My aunt and uncle, I mean. Their whole lives together have been built on lies. I always thought my aunt was so strong, but she was weak. She knew what Luca did to protect her, and she kept silent.”

“And now she’s surviving cancer to go to jail,” Cole said.

“She won’t go to jail. They’ll drag this thing out forever. My father is supporting her because she’s his sister, but I can’t. Neither of them are taking responsibility, and frankly, every time I think of what they did to you and your brothers, I get angry all over again.” She took a steadying breath. “I don’t want to be a part of it anymore.”

“I don’t blame you.”

“You know I had to let my apartment in L.A. go when I stayed overseas so long?”

“Yes. I’ll help you find a new place to live.” With him, for instance.

“Well, Rose said you’re staying here a few more months and that I was welcome to stay as well. She’s offered me room and board in exchange for designing a line of Western wear. We’re going to open a little boutique for the guests. Who knows where it will lead? All I know is I’m excited to get back to my own life.”

“That’s great,” he said.

“And Malina is coming for a visit later in the summer, and your brother said we’d all ride into the mountains and go camping. I’ve spent quite a bit of time with her, and she’s really a nice girl. Her grandmother has stepped forward to help her.”

Cole gently kicked the horse and began riding toward the nearby river. “You’ll have to teach us all a few words so we can communicate with her.”

She turned to look at him. Her hair was its natural color again and longer. He liked the bright orange streak behind her left ear and the way the June breeze blew tendrils around her lovely face. “That would be fun.” She sighed heavily and relaxed in his arms. “I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to be with you again. It’s been a terrible past few months, and I wondered if we’d drift apart—”

“Never,” he said. “You’re mine.”

“I kind of like the sound of that,” she said, hugging him, then laying her head back against his shoulder again. They’d only had one night together since she returned, and though it had been as magical as always, he was aching for more. That would never change.

He stopped the horse suddenly, abandoning his big plan to ask her to marry him at John’s wedding.

She turned to face him again. “Is something wrong?”

He dug in his pocket and found what he was looking for. His gaze stayed glued to her face as she watched him open his palm.

“Oh, Cole,” she said.

“Will you wear it?” he asked, suddenly sure she would accuse him of moving too fast again, of wanting to wait until things were settled.

“Yes, of course I will,” she said, holding out her hand. He slipped the ring over her finger where it sparkled like the blue diamond it was. Still, it couldn’t compete with her eyes.

“You understand I’m asking you to marry me,” he said, wanting things to be clear.

A grin sprang to her succulent lips. “Yes, I know.”

“Sooner rather than later, too. I don’t want to spend another minute without you.”

“Not another minute,” she said, throwing her arms around his neck. “There have been far too many minutes without you already. I love you, Cole.”

The horse ambled along on its own accord as they lost themselves in each other.

* * * * *

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Cowboy Cop
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Chapter One

Three months later

“Dugan is out.”

Miles’s fingers tightened around his cell phone as he wheeled his SUV around and headed toward the station. “What?”

His superior, Lieutenant Hammond, didn’t sound happy. “Based on the Kelly woman’s murder and some technicality with the chain of evidence when they’d searched the man’s place, Dugan’s lawyer got his conviction overturned.”

The past few weeks of tracking down clues and false leads day and night taunted him. He released a string of expletives.

Hammond cleared his throat. “If we’d found evidence connecting Dugan to a partner, maybe things would have gone differently, but...”

Hammond let the sentence trail off, but Miles silently finished for him. If he and Mason had found such evidence, Dugan would still be in a cell. And the world would be a safer place.

But they’d failed.

The day Dugan’s verdict was read flashed back. Dugan’s threat resounded in his head—
you’ll pay.

“Now that he’s back on the streets—”

“I know. He’s going to kill again,” Miles said.
And he’s probably coming after me.

His cell phone chirped, and he glanced at the caller ID. Marie’s number.

Damn, she was probably on his case for working again last night and missing dinner with Timmy. He’d thought he might have found a lead on the copycat, but instead he’d only chased his own tail.

The phone chirped again.

You’ll pay.

Panic suddenly seized him, cutting off his breath. Dammit...what if payback meant coming after his family?

“I have to go, Hammond.” Sweat beaded on his neck as he connected the call. “Hello?”

Husky breathing filled the line, then a scream pierced the receiver.

He clenched the steering wheel with a white-knuckled grip. He had to clear his throat to speak. “Marie?”
God, tell me you’re there....

But the sudden silence sent a chill up his spine.

“Marie, Timmy?”

More breathing, this time followed by a husky laugh that sounded sinister, threatening...evil.

Dear God, no...

Dugan was at Marie’s house.

He pressed the accelerator, his heart hammering as he sped around traffic and called for backup. The dispatch officer agreed to send a patrol car right away.

A convertible nearly cut him off, and Miles slammed on his horn, nearly skimming a truck as he roared around it. Brush and shrubs sailed past, the wheels grinding on gravel as he hugged the side of the country road.

Images of the dead women from Dugan’s crime scenes flashed in his head, and his stomach churned. No, please, no...Dugan could not be at Marie’s house. He couldn’t kill Marie...not like the other women.

And Timmy...his son was home today with her.

The bright Texas sun nearly blinded him as he swerved into the small neighborhood where Marie had bought a house. Christmas decorations glittered, lights twinkled from the neighboring houses, the entryways screaming with festive holiday spirit.

Somehow they seemed macabre in the early-morning light.

He shifted gears, brakes squealing as he rounded a curve and sped down the street. He scanned the neighboring yards, the road, the trees beyond the house, searching for Dugan.

But everything seemed still. Quiet. A homey little neighborhood to raise a family in.

Except he had heard that scream.

His chest squeezed for air, and he slammed on the brakes and skidded up the drive. He threw the Jeep into Park, and held his weapon at the ready as he raced up to the front door.

Cop instincts kicked in, and he scanned the outside of the house and yard again, but nothing looked amiss. He glanced through the front window, but the den looked normal...toys on the floor, magazines on the table, TV running with cartoons.

Only the Christmas tree had been tipped over, ornaments scattered across the floor.

He reached for the doorknob, and the door swung open. His breath lodged in his throat, panic knotting his insides. No sounds of holiday music or Timmy chattering.

Gripping his weapon tighter, he inched inside, senses honed for signs of an intruder.

Slowly, he made his way through the den to the kitchen. The Advent calendar glared at him, mocking him with a reminder that Christmas was only a few days away.

There was a half-empty coffee cup on the counter and an overturned cereal bowl on the table. Milk dripped onto the floor.

Timmy...God...

Terror seized him.

A creaking sound suddenly splintered the air, and he swung around, braced to shoot but he saw nothing. Then another sound came from above, water running...the shower? No, the tub...overflowing...

He clenched his jaw, then inched toward the staircase, slowly climbing it and listening for an intruder, for Marie, for his son.

Any sign of life.

A quick glance into Timmy’s room and it appeared empty. Bed unmade. Toy airplane on the floor. Legos scattered. Stuffed dinosaur on his pillow.

Where was his son?

His hand trembled as he bypassed the room and edged toward the bedroom where Marie slept. One look inside, and his heart stopped.

The lamp was broken on the floor. Pillows tossed on the carpet. The corner chair overturned. Glass shards from the mirror were scattered on the vanity.

A sea of red flashed in front of him. Blood...it soaked the sheets and led a trail into the bathroom.

His stomach revolted, but he forced himself to scan the corners of the room before slowly entering the bathroom. Blood streaked the floor and led toward the claw-foot tub.

A groan settled deep in his gut.

Marie. Her eyes stood wide-open in death. Blood dripped down her neck and bare chest. Her arms dangled lifelessly over the tub edge, one leg askew.

For a moment, he choked. Couldn’t make himself move. He’d seen dozens of dead bodies before but none so personal...none that he cared about.

Emotions crowded his throat and chest, and he gripped the wall to steady himself. He had to. Had to get control. Slide that wall back into place so he could do his job.