THE BADDEST BRIDE IN TEXAS Page 11

  "Take her and go," Elliot shouted. "Go on. I'll stall them."

  "Elliot, you can't—"

  "Have a little faith in the kid, will you?" Elliot said with a grin, and then he clicked his tongue at his horse, and the two rode off in the direction of the border patrol. Elliot seemed to be setting a course for a direct interception.

  Left with little choice, Adam turned his horse around and caught up to Kirsten.

  She was breathless. Her face as pale as the moonlight, her eyes wide. She stared at him as he rode up beside her, but she didn't say a word.

  "Come on," Adam said. "This way." And he guided her up into the craggy foothills, into cover. It would be tough for anyone to find them here, and he didn't really expect the border guard to try. They had to keep their posts. They could call in reinforcements, of course, but if he knew Elliot, and he did, by now the kid was spinning a yarn that would throw them off the scent.

  Within a few minutes, the sounds of pursuit seemed to have stopped. So had the shooting.

  "Right here. Come on." Adam slid off his horse on a boulder-strewn hillside and reached up to help Kirsten down, as well. She came. No resistance, no argument, and not a word. Her feet hit the ground. Her knees followed.

  "Hey, hey, careful now." Adam closed his arms around her, tugged her upward. The rag doll response was what finally tipped him off. Her head hung on a limp neck, and her hair was in her eyes.

  "Kirsten?" He pulled her upright and pushed the hair aside so he could look at her face. But her eyes were closed, and his hand came away wet and sticky. "Kirsty!"

  He shook her. No response. Gathering her up, he pushed her hair aside and turned her face toward the moonlight so he could see the damage.

  But all he could see was the blood.

  * * *

  Chapter 9

  « ^ »

  Kirsten's head hurt. She opened her eyes slowly and tried to see through the haze and the pain. It smelled funny here. The surface she lay on … stiff and soft, not the hard-packed ground. A shape came into focus. A face. A dear, familiar face. "Adam?"

  He leaned closer, his hands on her face, smoothing her hair. "It's all right. You're okay. I'm right here, Kirsten, and you're gonna be just fine."

  Blinking, she tried to see him clearly, but she couldn't. His face swam and danced in front of her. Her bed tilted, and she felt certain she was about to be dumped onto the floor. She reached for Adam, and he was there, gripping her shoulders, his hands strong and solid. The sensation of falling faded. The room around her straightened, and she relaxed. "Don't let go," she whispered.

  "I don't plan to."

  When she opened her eyes again, her vision was clearer. Adam stood beside her, one hand still holding her shoulder, the other gently stroking her hair. Around her, the familiar accoutrements that told her she was in a doctor's office. Stainless steel and glass, bottles and bandages. The giant domed light above her. The tall white scales in the corner.

  And Adam. Holding her. Holding on to her just the way he'd promised he would.

  She remembered then. The wild ride, the gunshots that had followed her, pursuing her like death itself. The burning pain and paralyzing shock of a bullet slamming into her head like a red-hot mallet. The moment of horror as she realized she'd been shot.

  Lifting one shaking hand, she touched the spot from which the pain seemed to emanate, and found thick, soft bandages there.

  "It was only a graze."

  "Was it? It felt more like a freight train," she muttered.

  "I'll bet it did. Here, take this." He slipped a tablet between her lips, then cupped her head, lifted her and held a paper cup to her mouth. She sipped the water, swallowed the pill. "Tylenol with codeine," Adam told her, lowering her head to the pillow once more. "It's mild, but it ought to help with the pain."

  She nodded, then looked around the oddly silent place for the doctor.

  "We're alone," Adam said, reading her the way he always had. "It's only 3:00 a.m. Lucky for us, Doc doesn't have any fancy locks on his office doors. Just a simple tumbler that's easy as hell to pop open."

  Holding her throbbing head with one hand, she sat up slowly. "Adam, that's illegal… God, stealing drugs … you're going to wind up in jail."

  "Not unless we get caught."

  "Jail's the least of your worries, you two."

  Adam's head came up fast, and Kirsten's heart jumped … but settled as she recognized Elliot's voice. The youngest Brand brother came light-stepping his way through the clinic and found them in the little treatment room. Squinting through the darkness, he nodded a greeting toward his brother. Then he came closer to Kirsten, eyeing her with real concern.

  "I saw the blood. Figured I'd find you here. I wondered which one of you took the bullet. You okay, Kirsten?"

  "It hurts like hell, but Adam says it's just a graze and I'll be fine."

  Adam pocketed the pill bottle he'd taken from Doc's locked cabinet. "You sure you weren't followed here?" he asked, and his tone was sharp.

  "You think I'm an idiot?" Elliot countered.

  Adam only sighed. "What the hell happened out there, El? Since when do the border guys shoot first and ask questions later?"

  "Since never." Elliot shifted his worried gaze from Kirsten to Adam and back again. "I talked to them. Convinced them I was just an innocent passerby out for a midnight ride and that I'd unwittingly stumbled into the cross fire. And then I asked them the same damn thing. Why they were firing at shadows in the night."

  "And what was their answer?" Adam prodded.

  "They claim the shadow shot first."

  Both men looked at Kirsten sharply. She blinked, confused. "I don't understand."

  "The officers swear you shot at them, Kirsten," Elliot explained. "They say they returned fire, but only after you fired at them. And frankly, hon, I'm inclined to believe them."

  She blinked at him, so confused the dizziness returned. "But … I didn't even have a gun."

  "I know that," Elliot said.

  "But somebody did," Adam said slowly, thinking aloud. "Somebody fired at those border guards."

  "I don't understand." Kirsten searched both men's faces, saw the knowing glance the two brothers exchanged, the nod of affirmation that passed between them. As if they'd already figured out something she wasn't seeing just yet.

  "Those boys are too well trained to just start shooting at shadows, Kirsten," Adam said, his eyes on his brother. "I don't think they would have fired if they hadn't believed you did. And I think that's just what someone wanted them to believe. Somebody fired the first shot. But it wasn't you, and it wasn't the border patrol."

  "Whoever it was, they did it deliberately," Elliot added. "Knowing damn well it would force the border patrol to return fire."

  "And they damn near got you killed," Adam finished. He stood in front of her, staring into her eyes, his own so tortured that she could feel his pain. "Thank God it didn't work," he whispered. And he pulled her against him, held her. His heat warmed her, and his heart beat hard against her. "Thank God you're okay."

  Her arms crept around his waist. She didn't want him to let her go.

  "Why did you run away, Kirsty?"

  She closed her eyes. "I … I thought it would be better for you if I just … got the hell out of your life, once and for all."

  He shook his head slowly, staring down at her. "Honey, you tried that once. It didn't work."

  "I know," she whispered. Then, slowly, she pulled herself away from his embrace. She had to think, had to figure this out. "You think the man who fired the first shot was the same man who killed Joseph, don't you, Adam?"

  "Yeah," Adam said. "I don't know what else to think. I just want to know why."

  "Could be he thinks she can identify him," Elliot said slowly. He paced across Doc's floor, then came back to her again.

  "But he knows he was covered head to foot when I saw him. He has to know I couldn't possibly have any clue who he is."

  Elliot shrugged. "Ma
ybe you have a clue you aren't aware of."

  Adam rubbed her back, soothing the tension that coiled her muscles tight. "Is the pain any better?"

  "A little."

  "If it comes back, say so. You can take another one of these if you need to." Stepping back a little, he pulled the pill bottle from his pocket, then stood frowning at it. "Hell, I forgot."

  "What?" she asked.

  Adam glanced at Elliot, then back at her. "This." He handed her the bottle. Not the codeine, but a prescription bottle with Joseph's name on it.

  "I found it at your house," Elliot said, coming back to the table where she sat. "It's a narcotic used for pain. A powerful one. Do you have any idea why your husband would have been taking something this potent?"

  She shook her head. The movement hurt, and she winced. "No idea at all. I didn't even know he'd seen a doctor … this doctor. Doc's name is on the bottle."

  "Yeah," Elliot said, meeting Adam's eyes. "And Doc's files are in the next room."

  Adam licked his lips, sent Kirsten a questioning glance.

  Kirsten nodded once. "We've come this far. We might as well compound the charges as much as possible, hmm?" Bracing her hands on Adam's shoulders, she slid to the floor. He gripped her waist, steadied her. With his presence and his warmth as much as with his hands. And with the look in his eyes.

  "Okay?"

  "So long as you hold on to me," she whispered.

  He bent, pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Don't worry. I'm not letting go. Not this time."

  Elliot cleared his throat and discreetly stepped out into the hallway.

  "That's not what I meant," Kirsten said when he'd gone.

  "Doesn't matter. It's what I mean."

  "But, Adam, you don't know—"

  "But I will know. And if you think this deep, dark secret of yours is going to make a difference to me, you're wrong. But you're not going to realize that until you open up to me, Kirsten. Give me the chance to show you that I'll stand by you this time." He squeezed her waist, looked down at her. She couldn't hold his gaze. Guilt twisted her heart up in knots. Adam sighed softly. "But I guess I have to wait until you're ready to tell me. Come on, Elliot's waiting."

  He led her into the hall, placed her hand on the wall and let go of her long enough to go to the door, where Elliot was already at work.

  The younger Brand jimmied the lock on Doc's office door. Then he swung it open. "Yesss," Elliot whispered with a flourish.

  "I don't even want to know where you learned that particular skill," Adam said. He put his arm around Kirsten's shoulders and guided her inside. "Sit here," he said, easing her into the soft chair near Doc's desk. Then he turned to the file cabinet, tinkered with the drawer and finally got it open while Elliot looked on.

  "I see I'm not the only one in the family with a talent for criminal acts," Elliot quipped when Adam slid the drawer open.

  "Yeah. Must be from those outlaw ancestors of ours, hmm?"

  Elliot grinned and leaned closer, while Adam began pawing the files. Kirsten couldn't sit still as Adam thumbed through the folders and finally pulled one out. Pushing herself to her feet, she moved unsteadily closer. Adam had flipped the folder open, was reading slowly. Elliot was leaning over him, reading as well. They looked at each other, and almost in unison the two Brands swore softly.

  Kirsten gripped Adam's arm. "What is it? What does it say?"

  Licking his lips, Adam looked down at the sheets in front of him. "Carcinoma. Inoperable. Prognosis, terminal." Then he met her eyes. "Cancer," he said softly. "Doc gave Joseph two months at the outside. And this is dated six weeks ago."

  It took a moment for the words to sink in, for their meaning to become clear to her. "Joseph … had cancer? He was dying? But Adam, how could I not know something like that?"

  Adam sighed, flipped a page, read on. "Doc made some notes here. It doesn't sound as if the end was going to be pretty. Says he was concerned the patient might resort to suicide."

  "It looks like it was a fast-moving disease," Elliot said. "And with the Percodan, the symptoms might have been tough to spot. Especially if … well, I take it you two didn't spend a whole lot of quality time together. I can't believe Doc thought that old goat was capable of suicide, though. He was too mean…" Elliot looked up fast. "I mean … sorry, Kirsten, I didn't mean…"

  "He was mean, all right," she said. Closing her eyes, lowering her head, Kirsten whispered, "But that's just what he did. He killed himself, but he hated me so much, he set me up to take the blame. He's framing me for murder, even though he's already dead by his own damn hand. I knew it. I knew it."

  Adam met Elliot's eyes, and Elliot shook his head. "That can't be right," he said. "I've read the police files on this—"

  "And just how the hell did you manage that?" Adam asked.

  Elliot dismissed the question with a scowl and a shake of his head. "The point is, I did. And this can't have been a suicide. Kirsten, they checked Joseph's hands for powder traces. There was no sign. And there would have been—make no mistake, there would have been—if he'd fired that gun. Besides, his prints weren't on the weapon."

  "Then he wore gloves." She spoke levelly, firmly, not an ounce of doubt in her mind.

  "And took them off and got rid of them … after putting a bullet into his own head?" Elliot shook his head. "Don't you see how impossible that is?"

  "Then he had help." She lifted her head, looked Elliot squarely in the eye. "And that help wasn't me. Do you believe me, Elliot?"

  Elliot swallowed hard, looked at his brother, then back at Kirsten again. "Yes. I do. But I wouldn't count on that for much, Kirsten. I always was a sucker for a pair of pretty brown eyes."

  He was trying to lift her spirits with his charm and his infectious smile. Elliot the lighthearted, practical joker. Always kidding. Always upbeat.

  She was grateful for the effort, but it was falling on sterile ground this time. She turned her question on Adam now. "And what about you? Do you believe me now, Adam? Do you believe that Joseph is the one who set this up to make me look guilty?"

  He nodded without hesitation. "You know I believe you. But it brings up another question, doesn't it, Kirsty?" She just watched him, waiting. "Why did he hate you that much? What the hell reason would Joseph have to hate you so very much that his dying wish was to see you convicted of his murder? And why is someone—his accomplice, maybe—trying to kill you now?"

  "Ease up on her, Adam." Elliot's voice was anything but jovial.

  "Why, Kirsten? Think. There has to be something, some motive—"

  "I don't know. Dammit, Adam, I don't know." Turning away, she moved back to the chair, her knees so watery she wasn't certain she would be able to stand much longer. "Unless…"

  "Unless what?" Adam carried the files to the copy machine, flicked a button, lifted the lid, all the while keeping one eye on Kirsten.

  "Unless he found out … about the birth control pills. The one thing he wanted was an heir. A child. And … now that I know about his illness, I guess I can understand why he was so desperate about it. But I couldn't let him win that round. I wouldn't."

  "I know," Adam said slowly.

  She blinked, thought back. When had she told him any of this? "Another thing I talk about too much when I drink?" she asked.

  Grim faced, he nodded.

  "I went out of town for the pills, kept them hidden in the house. He … he was so determined. Especially in the last few weeks…" She stopped speaking when she saw the way Adam stilled, the way he clenched his hands into fists at his sides, so tightly his knuckles went white.

  "I should have killed him myself," he whispered.

  "I'd gladly have helped," Elliot said, his voice deep and quaking.

  Kirsten shook her head. "I got myself into this situation. There was nothing either of you could have done. But if Joseph finally realized I'd been taking the pills all along … it would have infuriated him."

  "Enough to do this?" Adam asked.

  She l
ooked up, ashamed. "He was a monster, Adam. No one crossed Joseph Cowan without paying dearly. No one. He told me that again and again. And as many times as he proved it to me, I can't for the life of me figure out why I still thought I could best him."

  Adam nodded, his face grim. "Then we've found his motive."

  "And eliminated mine. If he were dying anyway, then I wouldn't have needed to kill him in order to claim the inheritance, would I?"

  "I wish it were that simple," Adam said. "But if you didn't know about the illness, it's a moot point. And besides, we both know you had another reason to want him dead. The thing he held over you, the thing he used to blackmail you into that sham of a marriage in the first place."

  She looked away quickly. "The police don't know about that. And … and if we put things back the way they were, if we're careful, they won't know we were ever here, either. I can say I knew about the illness all along."

  "More lies, Kirsten? You really think you can fix all of this with even more lies?"

  She lowered her head, drew a shaky breath.

  "Dammit, Adam, let up on her," Elliot said, raising his voice. "I'd lie like a rug if it were me!"

  "They'd only ask why she didn't tell them about Cowan's illness in the first place. Why she ran. And last I knew, assisted suicides were still illegal. And that's what they'd say this was. They'd still charge her with murder, even if she could convince them it was all Cowan's idea. Because she's still the one whose prints are on the weapon."

  Her body slumped. Every word Adam spoke robbed her of more strength, until she didn't feel she could even get out of the chair.

  "He's right, Elliot," she said at last. "Your brother is right."

  "My brother is brutal." Elliot came to the chair and knelt in front of her. "We're gonna get you out of this mess, Kirsten. You hang tough, okay? Don't give up yet. I'll take you to Mexico myself if it comes to that, you hear me?"

  She smiled at Elliot. So strong. So much a Brand man, through and through. "Thanks for that." Leaning forward, she kissed his cheek. "It means a lot, Elliot. If I'd had a brother like you, I…" Her voice trailed off, and she shook her head slowly.