Wild Mustang Man (24 page)
Authors: Carol Grace
Gretel gave Laurie a wry smile. “How did you know what I was thinking?” she asked.
“Intuition,” Laurie answered. “I’ve known you a long time. Longer than Morgan here. And she and I agree that it’s time for you to cut the cord. Vamoose, skeedaddle, be on your way.”
Reluctantly Gretel met Laurie’s gaze. “But we haven’t seen the Falls yet. I’ve been saving it for last. And a friend of Steve’s was going to give us a personal tour. A gorgeous guy. I wanted you to meet him.”
“Morgan and I can see the Falls on our own. We don’t need a guide, no matter how gorgeous, do we, Morgan? After we drop you at the airport, we’ll go.” Laurie put Morgan in her high chair and reached for the phone. “I’ll make the reservation for you. You’re ready. You’ve been packed for days.”
Gretel listened to Laurie and watched her write down the flight information. She didn’t say yes and she didn’t say no. She did call Steve, though, and gave him her flight number. She didn’t change her mind, but she came close. She hugged Morgan and said goodbye a dozen times. At the airport she walked down the long tunnel to the plane with one very wistful backward glance at Laurie and her daughter. Laurie smiled confidently and even Morgan waved to her mother before the plane took off.
Laurie turned to Morgan in her arms just as the baby screwed up her face into a frown and began to scream.
Once in her car seat, Morgan turned bright red and flailed her arms in anger and frustration. It could have been her teeth, but Laurie suspected she was witnessing separation anxiety the likes of which she’d never imagined. And Gretel had barely left!
Laurie gripped the steering wheel tightly and wondered what to do. She realized, belatedly, that she didn’t know anything about babies except that she wanted one. Would Morgan prefer to go home or would she rather see Niagara Falls the way her mother had planned before she took off? Morgan didn’t say. She just cried as if her heart were broken.
So Laurie decided on the Falls. Maybe Morgan needed a distraction. Laurie certainly did. With one hand on the steering wheel, she reached into the glove compartment with the other for the map. Gretel had marked the route and Laurie soon saw the signs for the tollway.
Laurie kept driving and Morgan kept crying until they reached the parking lot for the viewing area of Niagara Falls. The noise of the white water was thunderous, almost loud enough to drown out Morgan’s sobs. Laurie unbuckled the baby from her seat, shoved the car keys into her pocket and grabbed Morgan’s backpack and diaper bag, all the while keeping up a line of chatter designed to soothe the child. With Morgan on her back and the diaper bag over her arm, Laurie approached the fence and gasped at the sight.
The water cascaded to a two-hundred foot drop sending a mist back up into the air. It was stunning. It was breathtaking. But not to Morgan. Her wailing reached new heights. Other tourists stopped snapping pictures of each other and looked at the baby. A man at the edge of the crowd stared at them. Probably wondering what torture Laurie was inflicting on the poor child.
“Please, Morgan,” Laurie begged under her breath. “Please don’t cry. Look at the Falls. Aren’t they beautiful?”
Laurie sank down onto a wooden bench, lifted Morgan out of the backpack and onto her lap. And Morgan continued to cry. Desperate, Laurie reached into her pocket, pulled out her car keys and rattled them in front of Morgan.
The baby stopped crying instantly, grabbed the keys out of Laurie’s hand and threw them over the fence and down into the depths of the turbulent Niagara River.
Laurie gasped, stood and looked with disbelief into the white water. “Morgan,” she breathed, “what have you done?” A better question was, what had Laurie done, handing her keys to a baby to play with?
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MORE BOOKS BY CAROL GRACE
Return to Paradise
Rancher Parker Robinson was having one of those weeks. His cook quit and his daughter was trying her best to get expelled from boarding school. To top it off, he found a strange woman on his ranch who didn't know who she was! What he knew was that she was off limits. She could be another man's wife!
Christine couldn't remember her name or how she got to the ranch in the middle of Colorado. All she knew was that she'd landed in some kind of paradise where men were rugged and women were cherished. Somehow she had to find out who she was, where she came from and most important - was she free to love again?
Trouble in Paradise
Back from serving on the front line in the Middle East - cowboy Quincy McLoud comes home to find a sassy, sexy female has taken over his ranch and turned it into a resort! He'll do anything to get it back including some dirty tricks. What he can't do is fall for the new owner, gorgeous Abby, but how can he help it when she needs his expert help to tame the land. All he has to do is hold onto his hat and keep his heart safe. What are the chances?
The Prince and the Nanny
Nanny Sabrina West is on her way to a choice assignment as nanny to the twin daughters of the Prince of Savoy. She's always dreamed of visiting the lake country in Italy with its shimmering waters and mountains in the distance. Now is her chance to fulfill her dreams. She can't imagine how hard her job will be working for the arrogant prince and raising his mischievous daughters. But Sabrina wins over the girls, falls in love with their father and lives happily ever after in the castle on the lake.
For a change of pace, here’s an excerpt from Craig Culver’s latest crime thriller,
The Reno Con
, also available for the Kindle:
Tom Lyons was all set to have rousing sex with Pam Beltz in the back of the K-BLAST remote van when everything began going wrong. Saturday night, the place was packed, he’d spent ten minutes looking for an empty spot in the vast parking lot, finally spotting a couple of open spaces way out under the enormous, frenetically blinking neon sign that read:
Mountain Palace Casino
Reno’s Most Liberal Slots
Pam was a dancer in the stage show starting in less than an hour, so it would have to be a quickie. An unwelcome shaft of light from the sign slanted in under the piece of cardboard wedged against the side window. Tom had just slipped off Pam’s bra, and the flickering light danced across her breasts as if they were the featured item in a window display. Which, in a way, they were.
“God, I’ve missed you,” he murmured as he lowered his face to her chest, nuzzling a nipple with his nose.
“It’s only been a week,” Pam said. “I thought you had more self-control than that. What’s wrong, weren’t there enough distractions for you at Tahoe?”
Her fingers moved through his hair; he shivered as the tips stroked his scalp.
“I’ve got to get rid of this light,” Tom said. “It’s driving me crazy.” He sat up and fiddled with the cardboard panel.
Pam looked at her watch.
“I guess when they put the sign up they thought people might be wanting to park their cars and go in and watch the show.”
“That shows you how little they knew about the fun you can have without ever leaving your car.”
As he worked with the cardboard a car approached. It slowed to a stop, then turned into the space next to the van.
“What’s that?” Pam asked, pulling the sleeping bag up to her neck.
“Damn! A car. Parking right next to us.”
Tom tilted his head against the roof and peeped through the gap at the top of the cardboard. “Hold still ‘til they get out.”
The two were quiet for a full minute, but the other car’s doors never opened.
“What’s happening?” Pam whispered.
“I don’t know. They’re just sitting in the car. Looks like four people. They’re just talking.”
They could hear the voices now. Men’s voices, first muted, then becoming loud and angry.
“What are they talking about?”
“I can’t tell. The windows are closed. It’s a Mercedes. They’re airtight. Maybe they’ll suffocate pretty soon and we can get back to business.”
“Let’s get out of here,” Pam said. She found her bra and began working an arm through it.
“Just another minute or two. They’re probably just trying to decide what show to see—”
From the Mercedes came a loud BANG! followed by a muffled scream.
“
My God
,
what’s that
?” Pam cried.
“
Jesus Christ!”
Tom croaked, jamming his eye against the crack.
“What? What is it?”
“I think they...I think they shot him. The guy that was shouting—”
The car’s door opened, and an instant later the van rocked as something soft and heavy thumped against it. Pam whimpered, fear welling up like vinegar in her throat.
“I can’t believe this!” Tom hissed. “They threw the guy out of the car! He fell against our car!”
“Is he dead?”
“I can’t tell. I can’t see down.” Tom’s face wedged against the crack as if his eyeball was frozen to the glass.
“Get away from the window! They’ll see you. And put your shirt on.”
The Mercedes’s engine roared to life as Pam spoke. The big car backed out of the space and began to leave. Tom turned away from the window and pulled on his shirt; as he did so the cardboard panel fell from the glass. He twisted back to see the Mercedes accelerating away, and in the car’s rear window, lit by the flashing sign above, a face. A surprised face, looking straight at Tom. Its mouth opened and appeared to utter a soundless stream of words. Tires chirped as the driver locked the brakes. The backup lights came on and the car lunged rearward.
“Oh, Lord Jesus, I think they saw me! The damn cardboard came down and they saw me! They’re coming back!”
Pam moaned in growing terror as Tom scrambled over her to the driver’s seat.
“Stay on the floor in case they shoot. I’ll drive.” He had one sleeve on, the rest of his shirt trailed behind him. Dropping into the driver’s seat, he ran his hand through the change in his pants pocket, desperately groping for the keys.
Thank God I still have my pants on,
he thought
. Why the hell didn’t I just leave the keys in the ignition?...I’ll make sure this never happens again
, babbled a voice from a part of his brain that didn’t yet understand that in a few moments he might no longer need pants or keys.
Hope expired when he glanced in the rear-view mirror and saw the black mass of the Mercedes jerking to a stop directly behind the van, blocking its escape. The car’s rear door opened and a man emerged. He held something in his right hand that was obscured by some kind of cloth draped over it.
At that moment Tom’s goal became simpler:
let’s not worry about getting away just now, let’s just stop the man.
If he could get the van’s engine started maybe he could back up and ram the guy back into the car. He found the key in his pocket and pulled his hand out so fast the change sprayed across the console.
As he jammed the key into the ignition he heard the man shout several words. The driver shouted back; Tom briefly wondered why he wasn’t understanding the discussion, until he realized that it was not English.
After a short and heated exchange, the man dove back into the car and slammed the door. But the car remained motionless. The window opened and the big man leaned out, making sure he had eye contact with Tom in the van’s huge side mirror. He made a series of hand signals. First he covered his eyes, then his mouth. Finally he drew a finger across his throat, following through with an arc that left it pointing at Tom, to whom the meaning was painfully clear. Tom vigorously nodded to the man, who nodded back. The Mercedes surged forward.
A moment later a Cherokee wagon slowly turned into the lane and moved past the van. As it passed, Tom looked at the occupants, an elderly white-haired couple. He wondered if he should thank them for saving their lives.
The Cherokee slowed, then stopped. The driver was looking down at the object beside the K-BLAST van, which Tom still had not seen from inside the vehicle. The wagon’s window opened.
“Is he okay?” asked the driver. “You need any help?”
“I think he’ll be all right,” Tom said, “I think he’s just a little drunk.”
The old man chuckled. “Yeah, guess we’re in a party town. Guess that’s why they come up here. Have a good evening.”
With a nod, the man raised his window, and the Cherokee slowly rolled on.
Still on the floor of the van, Pam raised up on one elbow.
