THAT MYSTERIOUS TEXAS BRAND MAN Read online

  "I wouldn't leave, Casey. And I think you know it."

  She shrugged. "I wanted to make sure."

  "Are you sure that's all you wanted?"

  "Get off me, you big lug."

  He stared down at her a second longer. Then he got up slowly, turning as he did, so he wound up sitting beside her on the edge of the sofa bed. He didn't look at her. Instead he lowered his head and blew a sigh that sounded frustrated to her. "Sorry," he finally said. "I'm trained to react. I hear someone sneaking around, I pounce on them."

  "I'll keep that in mind."

  "It would be a good idea."

  Headlights came through the window, casting lively shadows on the walls, on the rumpled bed, on Marcus's unclothed chest, and then the light faded as the vehicle passed.

  It was almost erotic.

  Until he sent a worried glance after the car. "What is it?"

  "Maybe nothing. But that's the third time that vehicle has passed by tonight."

  Casey blinked, glanced toward the window, the closed curtains, and back at him again. He hadn't moved. "You couldn't have seen that car from here."

  "No. The sound of the engine is enough. It bugs me, the way the driver eases up on the accelerator as he passes the house. There's no sharp curve out there. No reason for it."

  A dryness coated Casey's throat and she couldn't swallow. "You think it's the same person who's stalking my sister?"

  "You have anyone else with a reason to case this place on a regular basis? Maybe the police checking on things?"

  She shook her head. "But what do they want? They already know we live here, they broke in once."

  "What they want is to make sure you're alone. And home. And that it's you in here and not some decoys or cops. Not some kind of a trap."

  She drew a shuddering breath. "Hell, I should never have brought Laura back here."

  "No. You were right to bring her back. I can't catch these guys unless they make another move on her."

  Casey whirled on him, wide-eyed. "No, Marcus, that's not what I want! God, I never intended to use my sister as bait. I only wanted you to protect her until I could get to the bottom of all of this. I won't put her at risk—"

  "Casey." He put his hands on her shoulders, silencing her instantly. And then he held her eyes while he spoke. "Laura is perfectly safe as long as I'm here. And what better way to get to the bottom of this than to catch the bastards and make them tell us? Hmm?"

  She blinked, trying to sort out the chaos in her mind. "But what if they get past us? What if something happens—"

  "No one gets past me. Didn't I just prove that?"

  There was a teasing light in his eyes, one that made her heart trip and assured her he was telling her nothing less than the truth.

  "I'm scared, Marcus."

  "I know."

  "You don't know how much I love her. How much she means to me. What it would do to me if I lost her." With a shudder, she lowered her head to hide her tears.

  "Yes," he said. "I do."

  She brushed the tears from her eyes. "I'm sorry. I know you do, Marcus. I shouldn't have said that."

  "It doesn't matter," he told her, his voice gruff, his back to her now. "Not anymore. All that matters is that you understand. I know what's at stake here. And I'm not going to let anything happen to Laura. This is one little sister the bastards of the world aren't going to touch."

  So much emotion in his voice. As if his heart were pounding inside every word. And she couldn't help herself. She moved closer to him, slipped her arms around his waist and lowered her head to rest against his back. "I'm sorry, Marcus. You must miss her so much."

  He cleared his throat, but it sounded ineffective.

  "Laura … reminds me of her. In some odd, ridiculous way."

  "So that's what it is."

  He nodded. "That's what it is." Stiffening his back, he covered her hands with his own and gently moved them away from his waist. "And that's all it is."

  "Not that you need to tell me that," she whispered as he turned to face her once more. "It doesn't matter, does it? I mean, since you don't believe in relationships … or love."

  She could see the torment in his eyes. "Maybe it's more that I can't."

  "Why, Marcus?"

  His eyes glistened. Shiny dark marbles in the night. Roaming her face so intensely she could almost feel their touch. "I couldn't go through it again."

  "The loss, you mean?"

  He nodded. "It wasn't just Sara. It was all of them. All of them…" He clamped his jaw shut, turned away, headed for the door.

  "Marcus, wait."

  But he didn't wait. He gripped the doorknob and pulled it open in one swift, jerky motion. "I'll be outside. You'll be safe. Don't worry."

  "But—"

  "I have to get out of here, Casey. I can't seem to shut the hell up around you. You're drawing things out of me that I've never told anyone, and it's dangerous, dammit!"

  He stepped out into the night, then stopped, hand still gripping the doorknob. For a moment, she thought he'd turn around, face her again, apologize for raising his voice. But he didn't. He simply sighed heavily, chin dropping toward his chest, and pulled the door shut behind him. And that was all.

  And she wanted him more than she ever had.

  He stayed outside. Safe. Protected by the night, the darkness, his beloved cloak. He liked the cold, because it was like solitude. No warmth could keep him this sharp, this acute. No sunshine could make his vision any clearer, his mind any more alert.

  No woman could fulfill him the way his life as the Guardian did. Never.

  When daylight broke he watched the house a little more relaxed, but just as alert. It was unlikely anyone would make a move by day. Any pro, at least. And he had the feeling that's what they were dealing with here. A pro.

  So he watched, more for himself than from any sense of impending danger. He saw Casey moving around inside, her shadow falling across the closed curtains, rippling over the fabric. He watched the peculiar morning rituals of those two shadow women. The identical way they had of bending over, flipping their heads upside down so their hair hung toward the floor while they wielded a hair dryer in one hand and a brush in the other. First Laura performed this interesting ritual while Casey vanished into the bathroom, and then Casey repeated it.

  It made Marcus smile to see. Some sisterly traits, he mused, must not be genetic. Hair flipping being one of them.

  He found himself smiling and caught his lower lip between his teeth. Damn, he was doing that entirely too much when he thought of those two.

  He waited, though every instinct was telling him to run, and only left after the two ladies did, both in the same car, with Casey driving. The blue Mustang he'd admired. He knew the routine. Casey would drop Laura off at the elementary school and then head over to her job in the city. A women's-wear boutique on Main Street

  . Right next to the offices of the local gossip sheet known as Lone Star. He didn't suppose the magazine was quite as despicable as Prominence Magazine, the one that had plastered his name and alleged likeness all over the country, but Marcus figured they were all pretty much alike. They'd print whatever they thought might sell more issues, and morals didn't happen to enter into it. The people who worked for that kind of publication didn't have an honest bone in their bodies. None of them. They must teach Ethical Bankruptcy in Journalism 101.

  He made his way to the car, followed a safe distance behind Casey's Mustang until she dropped her sister off at the school. Then he watched until Laura got safely inside.

  Casey had assured him the school was a safe place for her sister. Hesitant to take her word for it, he'd checked the place out himself and found she'd been right. No attempt would be made on Laura while she was at work. A pro would attack where she was most vulnerable, and any pro could see that was at home.

  Especially one who didn't know the Guardian was lurking in the shadows.

  Laura entered the school building safely, nodding to the security
men at the doors as she passed. Men who, Casey assured him, had been tipped off about Laura's situation and who would be discreet about it, while keeping an extra eye on her.

  Satisfied Laura was safe for the day, Marcus turned around and headed back to the hotel. He needed to get some sleep before going back on duty. Graham would be manning the computer by now. If anything happened to Casey or Laura, the magic of Graham's network would let him know it, and he could be there within minutes.

  Meanwhile, he was exhausted.

  When he dragged himself out of the private elevator to the penthouse suite, he was so looking forward to falling into a big soft bed that he'd even stopped trying to analyze his confused feelings for the two women. But when he stepped into the suite, Graham was there waiting, file folder in hand, and a hesitant look in his eyes.

  "What's this?" Marcus stepped the rest of the way in and closed the door.

  Graham came closer, taking Marcus's long dark coat and his fedora, before placing the manila folder in his hands. "I'm afraid you're not going to like it, Marcus."

  "Then why not wait until after I have a much needed nap to show it to me?" He was only half-kidding.

  "I'm afraid it's something you would prefer to know about right away. Actually, you might have preferred to have known about it yesterday, but without the computer I had no way of—"

  "I hope you're not apologizing, Graham. You're a wizard, and if something slipped by you, that only proves to me that no one on the planet would have caught it, myself included."

  "Yes, well…" Graham turned away, and Marcus thought he was probably touched by the compliment. "You might change your mind about that when you read what I've learned this morning."

  Sighing, Marcus flipped open the folder and fanned through sheets and sheets of printouts. Then he closed the file again, dropping it on the coffee table as he headed for the easy chair. He sank into the chair, leaned back, closed his eyes.

  "Any chance you could give me the condensed version, old friend?"

  "Of course. Perhaps you'd like a drink first?"

  Marcus's eyes shot open. "That bad, is it?"

  "I'm afraid so."

  "Then you'd better give it to me straight."

  Assuming he was referring to the whiskey rather than the news, Graham quickly poured a double, handed it to him and paced away. "Your Casey Jones hasn't been entirely honest with you, Marcus. And I have to say, I'm very sorry to have to tell you about it."

  Marcus came to attention. He sat up straighter in his chair, tossed back the drink and set the glass down hard. "She's been lying to me?"

  "Withholding the truth."

  "Is there a difference?"

  "There could be a very large difference, Marcus. And I'd advise you to find out for sure why she chose not to tell you this before you—"

  "What didn't she tell me, Graham?"

  Graham's throat moved convulsively, then he said, "She's a reporter for a magazine called Lone Star."

  "What!" Marcus came out of the chair so fast he knocked the empty tumbler from the table to the floor. Damn thing didn't even have the decency to shatter. It bounced, hit him in the shin and then rolled under his chair.

  "I'm afraid it's true."

  He just stood there, gaping, not believing it. Then he snatched the file folder off the table and flipped through it, frenzied for details. For proof. It couldn't be true. Not Casey. She wouldn't—

  But it was all there, and while he didn't feel the least bit like sleeping anymore, he did feel tired. More tired than he'd felt in a long time.

  "Her specialty seems to be exposés, as you can see from the tear sheets I was able to download."

  "I can see that."

  "So you understand why I felt you should be warned right away. I was afraid—"

  "Afraid I might be the subject of her next column."

  "It would explain a lot," Graham said. "The problem is, I could find no evidence she'd lied about anything else. Everything she told you about her sister, the adoption and the secrecy surrounding it is utterly true. And her home was broken into. The police report confirms—"

  "All the police report confirms is that she called them and told them someone had broken in. A woman as clever as Casey Jones could easily have set the whole thing up herself."

  "Then … then you think all of this has been a scam designed to expose you?"

  "If it is, we should know soon enough."

  Graham frowned. Then his brows shot up and his eyes widened. "You didn't tell her—"

  "No. But she saw my face, Graham. She knows enough to destroy me."

  "Oh, no." Graham lowered his head, pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger while shaking his head.

  Marcus paced and felt like rubbing his own forehead. "Dammit, I can't believe she fooled me so easily." Then he paused, turning slowly. "Yet even knowing this, I could swear that Laura's fear is real. She isn't faking it."

  "Unless she's an accomplished actress. As talented as her sister, perhaps."

  "Nobody's as talented as Casey," Marcus said. "I could kill her for this. I could put my hands around her throat and—"

  "Then I suggest you stay away from her until the feeling passes." When Marcus reached for the bottle, Graham snatched it out of reach, filled his glass but didn't surrender the bottle. "And I might also suggest one more drink be your limit, Marcus. You'll want to be stone sober when you confront her."

  "You're damned right I will. I want to see those brown eyes when I tell her I know the truth."

  Graham blinked but said nothing, though his surprise was plain in his eyes, along with his real concern. Marcus understood it and wished he'd clamped down on his venom. Sure, he should be angry, but not furious, not as enraged as he was right now. It must be obvious to Graham that he'd let things go too far with Casey. Maybe not physically—but in a lot of ways this was worse. She'd invaded his emotions, dug herself into his mind, his thoughts. She'd drawn his private pain out of him like a magnet, reached past his defenses without even working up a sweat. And she'd seen his face.

  What the hell was he going to do about that now?

  Marcus was lying when he said he didn't believe in love. In relationships. In sharing. Because Casey sensed that he did. Maybe Laura was right and he just didn't realize it.

  Oh, sure, he came on all independent and arrogant and macho. But he'd revealed himself to her. People usually did once she set her mind to getting under their skin—although she'd never wanted to get under anybody's skin the way she wanted to get under his.

  He'd been hurt. His poor heart had been torn to shreds when he lost his sister—Sara, he'd called her. And there had been more than that. "Not just Sara, all of them. All of them." The catch in his voice when he'd said it had nearly brought her to tears. All of them. Sara and his parents. When, where? Did it matter? Not to Casey.

  It didn't take a psychology degree to tell her that experience had shaped him into the man he was today. He'd loved and lost in what had to have been a horrible, heartbreaking and traumatic way. No wonder he didn't want to risk caring again.

  Oh, hell. She had no choice now. She had to find out all about him. About his past, his life now, this old pain that was still eating away at him.

  Casey was born a snoop. That trait was a good one, the way she saw it. It was one she'd parlayed into a successful career. Her other most prominent character trait was one that was a little less desirable. She tended toward nurturing. She'd never been one to bring home wounded birds and mend their wings. Instead she'd brought home troubled classmates. From day one she'd seen herself as the fixer of all life's problems. The protector of the weak, the champion of the frightened. If a boy was threatened by the town bully, she'd be the one to gather every kid in the class together and cajole them into walking the threatened kid home. And she'd make them keep doing it, too, until the bully backed down.

  It was probably why she'd taken to Laura from the start. The sense that her new little sister needed protecting.
Maybe it was a character flaw. Maybe it made her feel stronger and more powerful if she could fix other people's lives for them. Or maybe it kept her from focusing on her own life and all the things it lacked. She wasn't sure.

  She only knew that while she'd been attracted—powerfully attracted—to Marcus before, now she was obsessed. She wanted to know everything about him.

  She wanted him to open up to her, to trust her, to let her in so she could wield her magic wand and heal him.

  Unless … unless he didn't want to be healed.

  Oh hell, that was just silly. Of course he wanted to be healed. No one wanted to go around hurting all the time.

  Once again, Casey spent her lunch hour digging into the past of the most secretive man she'd ever met. The most secretive person she'd ever met.

  Besides one. Her own sister, Laura.

  * * *

  Chapter 8

  « ^ »

  He was waiting when she came home that night.

  Casey knew he would be. She'd been running late all afternoon, and Laura had insisted they stop for a few groceries on the way home. So it was dark when they finally pulled in the driveway at 8:00 p.m. But he was there. She could feel his presence the moment she got out of the car.

  She was nervous. Jittery as a teenager on a first date. Eager to see him again, half-afraid she'd been wrong about the wounded heart she'd glimpsed inside him last night. What if he laughed at her? What if he really was as cold and unapproachable as he tried to make everyone believe?

  No. He wasn't. He was hurting. She could make it better. If she could just get him to open up, she could…

  "Casey? You coming?"

  She turned to see her sister, a grocery bag in each arm, standing at the front door. "Sorry, Laura. I was thinking." Casey hurried to snatch the remaining bag from the car, then trotted up the front steps to reach past Laura and unlock the door.

  "Thinking, huh? About who?"

  "No one."

  Laura sent her a knowing grin and carried her groceries inside to set them on the table. "Liar."

  Casey ignored her, set her bag down and went to peer outside the window.