Highly Compromised Position (6 page)

In the kitchen Tom faced her, resting one hand on her shoulder. “Go to breakfast with me today. Let me pick you up at seven. If that's too soon, we can make it later.”

“I'm accustomed to eating early. My stepmother, Jane, serves promptly at seven, and you better be there while the food is hot.” Rose thought about the day and the work she had waiting. “Unfortunately I can't. I have a brochure and logo for a real-estate company that I have to get out.”

“How about lunch or dinner?” He waited, one finger hooked over his shoulder holding his coat and tie, his shirt unbuttoned to his navel and revealing his chest hair and muscles.

“Tom, I don't want to get too deeply involved,” she said with a pounding heart. An inner voice screamed at her to tell him about her pregnancy now, but she couldn't get out the words. “I need a breather,” she said swiftly, hoping she sounded firm. He didn't look like the type of man to beg a woman to see him. When his lips curled, she experienced both relief and regret. A lot of regret that she didn't want to deal with right now.

“That's usually my speech, darlin'. I guess I deserve to have someone say it to me. If that's what you want, that's what we'll do. You almost told me that at the beginning of the evening, didn't you?”

She nodded. “Sorry, Tom.”

“Don't be sorry. Last night was great, and if you change your mind and want to go out, let me know.”

“I had a wonderful time,” she said.

“So did I, darlin'. I'll miss you.” When she reached for lights in the back entryway, he caught her hand. “Leave it dark and let me look around first.”

“You're scaring me with your precautions.”

“Good. You need to be careful. Just don't forget—you're a Windcroft, you're involved. Anyone on this place is at risk.” All the time he was talking, he was looking at the drive and yard, which were well lit with outside lighting.

“'Bye, darlin',” he said, slipping his arm around her waist and pulling her to him to kiss her in a long, passionate, possessive kiss that curled her toes and stopped her breathing. And filled her with more regret.

When he released her, he smiled, turned and left. She watched his long strides as he walked to his car and knew he was walking right out of her life.

She had asked him to, but it still hurt. Deep inside, she had a knot of guilt and uneasiness. She should tell him about her pregnancy soon, but she needed space and distance before she could deal with him.

She watched him drive away. With a sigh she closed the back door. Shivering, she rubbed her arms, feeling alone. Should she continue to go out with him so they had a chance to fall in love?

She knew the answer was no because all too soon, when she revealed her pregnancy, he would want to marry her. She was certain he was the type to feel obligated.

She switched off lights and went to bed, lying in the dark and remembering being in Tom's arms, being loved
by him. She'd had a wonderful time—but duty couldn't serve in place of love, and she wanted a marriage of love. She was certain to the depths of her being that Tom wouldn't wait to give love a chance but would want to marry her immediately when he learned she was pregnant with his child.

 

Tom drove along the driveway, watching the swath of road that was revealed in his headlights, as well as glancing into the darkness on either side of the car, wondering if all was safe on the Windcroft land.

When he returned to the Devlins' D Bar V Ranch, he passed the sprawling one-story brick-and-frame ranch house. In the lush green lawn surrounding the house, automatic sprinklers sprayed silver arcs of water, creating an oasis in cactus and mesquite country.

Dark shadows were broken by splashes of light from lamps on tall posts along the drive as he headed for the guesthouse.

Once inside and reaching his bedroom, Tom stripped and sprawled on the bed, unable to sleep for thinking about Rose.

If she wanted to break it off between them, he could. He had always known that a day would come when a woman would tell him to get out of her life before he was ready to walk away on his own, and it finally had happened.

He wasn't happy that she wanted to stop seeing him, but he would get over it and the time would come when it wouldn't matter. They didn't have a commitment or anything serious between them. He hadn't been into obligations or long-term relationships and now he'd met a woman who wasn't either.

“Serves you right,” he said aloud to himself. In any affair he had always been the one to walk. So she was the first this time—it wouldn't matter. Sooner or later he would have wanted out. So why was he unhappy about it and unable to sleep?

He groaned and switched his thoughts to the danger that surrounded the Windcrofts. Rose really shouldn't be alone in the guesthouse. Tom was certain about that. She was far more vulnerable than she realized.

He needed to call a Cattleman's Club meeting to let them know about the truce between the Windcrofts and the Devlins. Sheriff O'Neal had asked his fellow club members for aid and, along with the sheriff, there were five of them working on solving Jonathan Devlin's murder and trying to find who was behind the terrible things that had been happening at the Windcroft place.

Mulling over the facts, Tom tossed and turned, but in too short a time he was back to thinking about Rose, admitting to himself that he didn't want to break things off with her.

After three hours of fitful sleep he woke, showered and then called everyone to set a meeting at noon at the club. He then made arrangements at the club for a private room and lunch.

He went about his usual morning routine with his mind on Rose, no closer to a resolution.

At midday Tom drove into Royal, passing Pine Valley, the exclusive gated area where he had purchased a condo even though he had only slept in it one night before Lucas had insisted Tom stay on the Devlin ranch. Driving along Main, Tom gazed with satisfaction at his hometown that was built first by ranching and then oil money. Royal had boutiques, expensive shops, elegant
homes. It was a bustling community of wealthy citizens, one he was proud to call home. Campaign signs were scattered along Main, some for Gretchen Halifax, others proclaiming Jake Thorne's campaign slogan—Thorne for Mayor: A Leader for Tomorrow.

Tom entered the sprawling, exclusive gentlemen's club established nearly ninety years ago by Henry “Tex” Langley. Tom liked the friends he'd made in the club, as well as the opportunity to be of service to others.

As he strode through a vast, high-ceilinged, dark-paneled room filled with heavy leather furniture and a fire blazing in the massive fireplace, he looked at rows of oil paintings, animal heads and antique guns decorating the walls. Maybe the Western heritage in his blood was what had given him an early interest in guns; he had his own collection, including some antiques.

He was shown to the private room he had reserved, where another fire blazed in the hearth. All of the men had already gathered, and Tom greeted each swiftly, accepting congratulations on ending the feud. Sheriff Gavin O'Neal's brown eyes held an unmistakable hint of uneasiness, and Tom braced for bad news.

“A
ll right, Gavin, what's the grim outlook?” Tom asked.

“Before you arrived, we talked about what we can do to move the investigation forward. It's obvious that we need to figure out some way to flush the killer into revealing himself.”

“The majority of us decided that we need a decoy,” Mark Hartman added.

“And I don't think so,” Connor snapped, his blue eyes flashing fire.

“Sounds like a plan with possibilities. Something needs to be done before one of the Windcrofts gets hurt worse. So where will we get a decoy?” Tom asked, looking at solemn faces.

“We ask Rose,” Gavin replied, and Tom's insides knotted. His first reaction was refusal, but before he could voice his opinion, Connor spoke.

“I'm against it. I say no,” Connor repeated. “I don't think we should put her in harm's way.”

“She's already in it,” Gavin said. “Dammit, all the Windcrofts are. Y'all know they are.”

For a moment the argument swirled around the room while Tom sat and listened to the myriad reasons for and against Rose trying to entice the killer.

“What would make Rose a decoy—even if she agreed to do it?” Tom asked.

“Gavin and I talked this over before you arrived,” Jake replied. “If Jessamine Golden's treasure is the reason for all that's been happening to the Windcrofts, we let word get out that Rose knows where the gold is hidden. The killer will come after anyone who knows the location of it.”

Chilled, Tom thought about the risk their plan would put Rose in. His inclination was still a firm refusal, but he thought of the alternatives and the danger threatening the Windcrofts.

“Any event to move us closer to catching whoever is behind the killing and the multiple disasters is progress,” Jake argued.

“We need to stir the murderer to reveal himself,” Gavin said, supporting Jake. “The longer this drags on without the killer being discovered, the more at risk the Windcrofts are. Rose would be the perfect decoy.”

“And I say she wouldn't,” Conner argued stubbornly. “Let Nita be the decoy. She's tough and I'll be there to protect her.”

“Nita is in the main house with you and her father and stepmother. She's too protected,” Jake argued.

“That's right,” Gavin added and looked at Tom.
“Tom, we want you to ask Rose if she'll be a decoy and we're asking you to stay with her to guard her.”

“What do you think about it?” Jake asked. “We've already decided you're the one to get the most involved.”

“Don't rush it,” Connor told his brother quietly, both of them looking at Tom, and the clash of wills between the two brothers was palpable.

Tom gazed around the room at all the men who were watching him. “All your arguments are valid,” he replied solemnly.

“Connor, remember Rose's life may be in jeopardy anyway,” Jake insisted. “You can't ignore that the incidents have gotten progressively worse.”

“I don't want Rose to be a decoy,” Tom said. “But Jake's right. Either way, her life's at stake. We all know that the sooner we catch the killer, the better. If I can protect her and we can get the killer to reveal himself, then that's the best solution.”

“And it could be the quickest,” Mark added.

“I want to ask Rose,” Tom continued, looking around at each man again. “If she says no, then that's it. We don't try to persuade her to do it.”

“I still say it should be Nita,” Connor argued with a flushed face.

Tom shook his head. “As much as I'd like to agree with you, the guys are right. Nita is too protected and everyone knows she lives in the main house. Just as our killer probably knows that Rose is alone in the guesthouse. If she agrees, then I'll stay with her, but I prefer to try to keep from being seen by anyone outside of the family and you guys.”

“I agree,” Gavin said. “The fewer people who know Rose has protection, the more likely our plan is to succeed.”

“If someone has been doing all of this mischief to get the Windcroft land in hopes of finding the treasure, then he won't be able to resist going after Rose,” Gavin said, and Tom's dislike of the plan deepened.

“We should be able to guard her enough that no one can get to her,” Logan stated quietly, and the men all looked at each other. “With the backgrounds we have in this room—Special Ops, ranching, firefighting, demolition, self-defense, and Gavin is a sheriff—we should be able to give her all the protection she could possibly need,” Logan added.

Gavin nodded. “I agree. But what's important is will Rose agree?”

“None of you have convinced me. I still don't think we ought to put her in that spot,” Connor said gravely, refusing to relinquish his argument, and Tom sensed that Connor wasn't leveling with all of them, yet he couldn't imagine why not.

“She's an innocent in this,” Connor persisted. “She's not accustomed to a rough-and-tumble world. If we set up Nita—and she probably would be willing—she can handle herself and we can protect her.”

“With the exception of when she's with you, Nita doesn't get six steps from Will, from what you've told me,” Jake said. “If it's Nita, we'll have to guard Will, too. I say it won't matter that Rose is no tomboy. That doesn't have anything to do with it. She doesn't have to be a muscled jock,” Jake argued. “We'll guard her.”

“I think we can fully protect her,” Mark said quietly. “We can take shifts to relieve Tom of full responsibility.”

“I'll call upon you guys when I need you,” Tom said.

Murmurs of agreement went around the room, but a
muscle worked in Connor's jaw, strengthening Tom's gut feeling of something awry.

“All right, but if Rose says no, then it's no,” Connor commanded, looking directly at Tom. “No arguments or fast-talk or pushing her into this.”

“I agree,” Tom replied, feeling his anxiety increase about protecting Rose.

“How do we get word out that Rose knows the location of the treasure?” Logan asked, and suggestions were made and rejected.

“How about I take Rose to lunch at the Royal Diner and let it slip in our conversation?” Tom asked. “If someone overhears us—which we can see to it that the people in the adjoining booths do—the news will be all over Royal within the hour.”

“That's true,” Mark stated. “If there is any place in this town where gossip spreads like wildfire, it's the Royal Diner.”

Voices rose in assent and Tom agreed, but he couldn't shake a cold knot of worry concerning Rose. It didn't help his feelings to know that Connor was so intensely opposed to the plan. He couldn't decide whether it was his own trepidation or the influence of Connor, but Tom didn't feel right about what they were setting up.

“You're quiet, Tom,” Gavin said.

“I'm thinking about Rose. I don't have a good feeling about this. It's too damned dangerous.”

“I agree,” Connor said.

“We've been over that and made a decision,” Gavin stated.

“This ploy may make the killer tip his hand. It's up to Rose now,” Mark said.

“If any one of us wanted to get to somebody, we could,” Tom said.

“Again I agree with Tom,” Connor said quietly.

With a nagging persistence Tom intuitively knew something was wrong as he gazed into Connor's inscrutable blue eyes. Why did he suspect Connor was holding back information? The Texas Cattleman's Club members had sworn to aid each other and to help save innocents' lives and traditionally they all confided in each other.

“Okay, if Rose agrees, how soon do we do this?” Gavin asked.

“Tom, you talk to Rose as soon as possible,” Logan said. “I've got a feeling that something terrible will happen again soon. We need to find the killer before he kills again. Or even tries to and fails, like he did with Will Windcroft.”

“All right, if Rose agrees, Tom will stay at the Windcroft place. Connor, you help him clear that with Will.” Gavin turned to Tom. “Tom, you work it out with Rose. Are we agreed?”

Everyone consented, giving warnings and making more suggestions about things each one thought might help. Tom half listened while he contemplated approaching Rose. She wasn't going to like having him underfoot when she had given him his walking papers.

When the group began to disband, Tom glanced at Connor, determined to get to the source of what he was holding back.

“Before you go, Connor, will you wait up a minute? I'd like to talk to you.”

“Yes, I will,” Connor said in such clipped words that Gavin turned to look at both of them.

As soon as the two men were alone, Tom turned to Connor. “Something's bothering you.”

“Yeah, it is, but a promise is a promise and I'm not at liberty to say what.”

“I know it involves Rose.”

“I've already said too much. I made a promise to Nita. Just guard Rose damned well and call me at the least hint of trouble. You'll do that, won't you?”

“Yes, I will,” Tom answered solemnly. Connor brushed past him and strode out the door. Mystified, Tom trailed after him. What was the deep secret that made Connor adamantly opposed to setting Rose up as a decoy? She would have round-the-clock protection.

As Tom left the clubhouse, questions tormented him. Puzzled, he crossed the leaf-covered asphalt lot to his red pickup that was parked beneath an ancient mulberry tree. Broad shiny yellow leaves fluttered in the sunlight, but Tom didn't see the tree, the lot or the car.

He drove through downtown, his thoughts poring over what each man had said. Why would Connor volunteer Nita and argue so strongly that they couldn't use Rose? What was it about Rose that Connor was trying to shield?

Puzzled, Tom thought about Rose, her sleek body, her tummy that was rounded—something it hadn't been when he'd been with her before, five months earlier.

He turned to ice, freezing in the warm car. Stunned, Tom drove up on a curb, and it jolted him enough to pay attention to his driving. He pulled over to the curb. Was Rose pregnant with his child?

“I'll be damned!” he exclaimed aloud. It fit. If she was pregnant and she had shared the secret with her family, that would explain Connor's reluctance for Rose to be a decoy. Shocked, Tom thought about the possibility.

He remembered how she had refused his offer of a glass of wine at dinner last night. In Houston that first night, she'd had wine. Now that he thought more about it, her figure had definitely changed.

Rose could be pregnant with his child. If she was, she hadn't told anyone the father's identity—or at least Connor hadn't known, Tom was sure. Rose—pregnant! And her family knew. It fit everything that had happened in the past hour. He thought about Rose telling him she didn't want to see him again for a while.

Tom stared ahead without really seeing what was in front of him. He was awestruck with the knowledge that he was going to be a father. He had always wanted his own kids. Now he was going to have a baby with Rose. So far, everything he knew about Rose was good—she was intelligent, personable and capable or she wouldn't have her own successful business. She was deeply into family ties in spite of moving to Dallas, because when trouble had struck, she had moved her business home so she could help her family. From what he knew about Rose, she would be a good, caring mother. A baby with Rose. He guessed that had to be the reason for Connor's reluctance to place Rose at risk.

Tom thought again about Rose saying she didn't want to go out with him anymore. She was trying to get him out of her life. That hurt and angered him, yet at the same time he hadn't made any commitment to her. He had to face the truth that he hadn't given Rose any reason to trust that he would want to be in a child's life.

This wasn't what he had dreamed about—far from it. He had always thought that someday he would find one special woman who he could love and trust. They
would have a family and he would try to be the best father he could possibly be.

Yet anger slowly mushroomed in him that she hadn't shared the news with him now that he was here in Royal. How long had she intended to withhold the truth? Had she thought she could keep it from him and go back to Dallas before he discovered she was carrying his child?

She wasn't going to tell him about their baby.
His
baby.

How could she keep that from him even one day? He condemned himself, but he hurt and blamed her, as well.

He backed up and swung the truck out, moving into traffic and now driving by rote. His mind was still on Rose. Questions, doubts, fears, anger and awe, contrasting emotions churned his insides. He clamped his jaw closed so tightly that it hurt.

They weren't in love—he knew that, but he had wanted to continue seeing her. He thought they had been good together, but that wasn't what she wanted. She didn't want to share their baby with him.

What if he had stayed in California and never learned the truth? Would he have ever known his own child?

His knuckles were white on the steering wheel. He eased his foot off the gas pedal, realizing he had left Royal and was almost at the vehicle's top speed.

He couldn't get his breath. Taking deep gulps of air, he changed lanes and pulled off the road onto a shoulder, hearing the grass swish against his tires. When he parked by the bar ditch, silence descended.

Every second of the past few minutes would be etched in his mind forever: the clear blue sky, the flat land covered with feathery mesquite, the rumble of traffic speeding along the highway, the crisp fall day.

He pulled out his cellular phone to call Rose.

The moment she answered, he was tongue-tied. He might be completely wrong.

“Rose, this is Tom. I need to see you as soon as possible.” He finally got out the words.

“Sure. I can take a break anytime. Where are you now?”

“Driving back to the ranch. I'll go to the horse farm instead. I want to talk to you.”