Promise Broken (The Callahan Series) (14 page)

“We still need more light.”

“Why? You have candles and the light from the fireplace.”

“There’s a reason,” she said softly.

“Wanna talk about it?”

She paused then gave an uncertain nod. “My mother died when I was five. My dad told me she was with the angels and wouldn’t come back. I wanted my mom, and I was scared. I ran to the cellar and hid in a closet. After a while I decided to come out. Mom would be upstairs and everything would be like it should. Only the door wouldn’t open. I screamed and shouted, but no one came. I don’t know how long I was in there, but I passed out. I haven’t slept in the dark since. Over the years I’ve also had panic attacks because of that incident. I had one at the barn the day you fired Cal. I should have stopped you, but when an attack comes on, I’m helpless.”

“I’m so sorry.” He reached over and took her hand in his, felt it tremble. “It’s okay, Phyl. I’m here. There’s nothing to hurt you and when the rain lets up we’ll go back to the house.

Rain pummeled the metal roof. The sound was both soothing and deafening. Cocooned in the quilt in front of a blazing fire, Phyl could have fallen asleep. Except that Donovan was staring at her, making her aching muscles tense in anticipation. What did he think of her now? Did he understand?

Her gaze swept over him. His wet shirt clung to wide shoulders, his jeans to tight buns. He looked good. Better than good. He looked wonderful. She wanted to be back in his arms, relax, and forget her troubles.

It wouldn’t be possible until she talked to him. It was past time. She should have told Nellie immediately. But if she had, Nellie would have sent her on her way that first day. More than likely she and Mark would still be running.

Phyl didn’t know what would happen after she had her say, but now was the time.

In the firelight, his face was all angles, his eyes dark pools of lust. He wanted her.

He moved closer. He was so tempting her heart turned over.

Of its own volition, her hand moved to his. He put an arm around her shoulder. The touch sent shivers through her. He reached for her, pulled her close, their faces inches apart. He muttered a quiet curse before he crushed his mouth with hers.

Sensations exploded in every direction. His tongue teased hers until she thought she would die with longing.

Then, just as quickly as that hurried need, he turned all soft and sensuous. He kissed the corner of her mouth, once, twice. So sweet she thought she might melt right into the puddle of water on the floor.

Her heart thumped an erratic rhythm as the kiss deepened. Every nerve ending pulsed with need. Every cell screamed for release. When his tongue danced with hers, liquid heat flowed through her like a pounding drumbeat.

Her body grew tight—waiting. Heat built to the melting point.

He reached for the buttons on her shirt, started to unbutton them. Trembling, she asked herself if she dared let this happen. His hands cupped her breast. A moan escaped her lips. She’d been lost and insecure for so long, but right now, right this minute, she felt safe and loved.

Her hands went to his shirt, popped open a few buttons. She wanted this more than she wanted anything except the safety of her son.

Her hands stilled. She had to tell Donovan her story. Now, before it was too late.

She pulled back. “Don,” she gasped. “There’s something I have to tell you about why I came here.” She could barely get the words out. What she wanted to do was melt into another kiss, fall into the sanctuary of his arms.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, pulling her closer and kissing her again.

She pushed away. “No. I need to tell you that I witnessed Mark’s father’s murder.”

“What?”

“He was shot.”

Lips that moments ago were soft and sweet on her lips, pressed into a tight line. He moved away. Not physically, but mentally.

She took a deep breath. She should have told him long ago. “I was raised on a ranch in Wyoming. Like I said, my mom died when I was five years old. My dad raised me. He was ranch foreman for a big spread. He worked from daylight until dark. By the time I was twelve I was doing a man’s job alongside him. When I was in my teens, he keeled over from a heart attack. His sister came and took me to live with her in California. San Diego. It took a long time to adjust to city life. I met Mark’s dad while I was in college.” She paused. “I divorced him soon after Mark was born. Victor was the wrong man for me from the beginning. But he was Mark’s dad, and since Mark wanted his dad in his life, I couldn’t object when he came around. Not that he was around much. He’d be gone for months, then show up. Victor was after the fast buck, the easy money. But every scheme left him more in debt than the previous one. On his last visit, I thought he might have finally gotten his wish.”

“Why was that?”

Donovan’s voice didn’t sound like his own. It was deeper, cautious, and it made her even more nervous.

“Because he promised he was going to take care of us, something he never said before. He seemed pleased with himself. As if he held riches in the palm of his hand.”

“And?”

“One day while he was with us, I picked up Mark from kindergarten, and stopped for groceries. When we were back at the house a strange car was in the drive. I opened the door to the house, and heard shouting. I motioned for Mark to stay at the door while I went to see what was going on.” She paused to gather herself. This was even harder than she’d thought it would be. “What I saw stunned me. There were two men in the room with Victor. One of them was screaming that he wanted something Victor apparently wouldn’t give him. The man walked over to Victor, slammed his fist in his face. He said something like, ‘You should know better than to cross Al.’” She shook her head, remembering. “But Victor just laughed. ‘Al has millions,’ he said. And then he said the strangest thing. ‘He can afford the one I want. If he doesn’t give it to me, I’ll see all of you in the pen.’” Trembling anew, she stared at Donovan. “I was so scared.”

Phyl didn’t know if she could finish. Just the memory of that horrible day made her sick. But Donovan was watching, his eyes wary and questioning. Waiting for her to finish. “The man said something low and angry. I didn’t hear what. Victor kept laughing. Suddenly the man jerked out a gun from his pocket and pulled the trigger. It was so fast—so unbelievably fast and horrible—that for a moment I couldn’t move.”

She looked at Donovan. “Just like that. One minute Victor was laughing at this guy, the next he was…not.”

“What happened then?”

“I screamed. The man who shot Victor turned and saw me. So did the other man. Both of them aimed their guns in my direction. I scooped up Mark at the door and ran for our lives. We made it to the car. But they chased us and fired. Twice. Somehow, we managed to get away.”

“My God, Phyl.” Donovan reached for her. She shook her head.

“On the other side of town, I stopped at a satellite bank, went in and took out what little money I had and took off. I didn’t know where to go. I just knew I had to get away.”

“How did you end up here? The Hill Country is a long way from California.”

Phyl shrugged, feeling drained now that she’d told the worst of the story. “In Arizona, I sold my car. I used the cash to travel from one state to another. By bus, train, whatever. We were in New York for a couple of days, took the bus from there across country to Colorado, then here. We got off the bus in Oaktree for a thirty-minute layover when I heard some people talking about the Callahan ranch needing a hand. I hitched a ride with a couple who said they were coming this way, walked to the door, and talked to your mom. She was nice enough to let me try out for the job. That must have been about a week after you left.”

“Why are you telling me this now?”

“When Freckles was poisoned, I wondered if the killer had found us.” She looked at him, saw the hurt in his eyes. “I don’t see how he could, but you should know the truth.”

Donovan dropped his head in his hands for a moment—as if he couldn’t look at her. Her heart plummeted. What was he thinking?

Donovan finally lifted his head. “Would you recognize them? Did you call the police?”

“I was too scared to call the police, but I’d know both of them anywhere.”

“Did you call anyone?”

“No. I just ran.”

“You’re safe, then. There’s no way anyone could track you here. But we have to tell Dugan.”

“No! No one can know. One word and we’ll be in danger. Can’t you see that?”

Donovan took her shoulders, squeezed. “You can’t live like this. You have to know you’re safe or you’ll drive yourself and Mark crazy.” He looked into her eyes, kissed her lightly. “You’re here and you’re safe, Phyl. That’s all that matters.”

She wanted to believe that. Wanted to believe she could make a life here with a man she admired and loved.

A streak of lightning lit up the room. Phyl’s eyes went to the window. She couldn’t stop the scream that started deep in her throat and filled the room.

Donovan leapt to his feet. “What?”

Phyl stood, the quilt falling to the floor.

“It’s him!”

“Who?” He looked toward the window and the darkness beyond. “It’s your imagination, Phyl. There’s no one there.”

“No! The man who killed my ex is here!”

Donovan reached out to pull her close. “It’s your imagination.”

Phyl pushed him away. “I know what I saw.”

She had to get to Mark.

Chapter Twelve

Her nightmare had come to life.

How?

It wasn’t possible. But the killer was here now. They were all in danger.

She stumbled away from Donovan, ran to the door.

“Phyl, wait!”

She yanked open the door. Strong wind made candles flutter, shadows dance. “I have to get to Mark.”

What if the killer got to him first? He couldn’t.

Donovan grabbed her arm. She jerked away. “You don’t understand!” she hissed. “He’s here to kill us.”

She ran from the warmth of the fire, the warmth and safety of Donovan’s arms, and into the cold, slashing rain. In seconds she was spurring Skye toward the house.

If only she had a cell phone! She vowed that if Mark was safe, she would take some of her precious savings and get a prepaid one.

Even with the hard, driving rain pounding her, bruising her skin, blinding her eyes, she couldn’t erase the face in the window. She swiped a hand across her face, urged Skye into a run.
Dangerous.
The thought was fleeting. Nothing mattered except Mark.

Her heart clogged with fear. Seeing Victor get shot was horrible. Their cross-country flight was unnerving and stressful. Nothing compared to her fear for Mark.

Whatever made her think she was safe? She should have stood her ground in California, told the authorities what she’d seen and heard. She leaned over Skye’s head. “Faster, girl. Faster.”

Lightning, followed by a loud clap of thunder, sent Skye flying. Lying flat on his back, Phyl prayed she wasn’t too late. Mark was all she had. Everything else she’d left behind; her comfortable home, her job as a veterinarian’s assistant, her life. She’d gladly given them up to keep Mark safe. But somehow, the killer had found them. Not only were she and Mark in danger, so was Nellie. And Donovan.

She had to get to Mark, and leave as fast as possible. At least the Callahans would be out of danger. She’d get to a large city and hide. It wouldn’t be easy. But nothing these past weeks had been.

Riding hard, she didn’t slow Skye until they were at the barn. Once there, she jumped down and ran for the house.

Ignoring the rain, her soaked clothes, and the mud splattered from head to foot, she grabbed the screen door and went inside.

The house was dark and silent. She stood there a minute trying to catch her breath.

Something was wrong. She could feel it.

That warmth and comfort wasn’t here now. Instead, there was a sense of foreboding.

Tamping down the fear, she made her way through the darkness. The lights must have gone out, she thought, as she flipped a switch and nothing happened. Maybe Mark was asleep. Perhaps the face in the window was nothing more than a product of her imagination. Oh, for that to be true. She wouldn’t care how dumb it made her look.

She passed the living room. The dim glow from the fireplace brought her nightmare to life.

He stood in the flickering light, a gun in one hand, the other covering Mark’s mouth.

Mark’s eyes were terrified. A quick glance showed Nellie lying on the floor.

Phyl’s head swirled, darkness threatened. She refused to faint. If he’d killed Nellie…

“Did you hurt her?” she managed to ask.

His smile made her skin crawl. “Not yet.” His hand moved away from Mark’s mouth.

“I didn’t have time to go to my hiding place,” Mark cried.

“It’s okay, Mark.”

A lie. She fleetingly wondered if anything would ever be all right again. She went to kneel beside Nellie. Her hands, legs and mouth were taped, her eyes open and pleading. Anger sent Phyl to her feet. “What do you want from us?”

As she talked, she edged closer to Mark, but the man motioned for her to back off.

She did.

“You know exactly what I want. Give it to me and I’m outta’ here.”

What did she have?

“Your ex-husband gave you something for safekeeping. The boss wants it. Now.”

Victor had given her nothing, in more ways than one. But from the look in this man’s eyes he would never believe her.

“Who’s the boss?”

The man laughed again. “One minute. Or the woman gets it. Then the kid.”

Think!
What did he want? What did Victor take that was valuable enough to kill for?

“The clock’s ticking.”

She had to get him out of here. Donovan had to be right behind her. She couldn’t let any of them be hurt. “Leave my son here, and I’ll get it for you.”

His laugh was frightening. “Not in this lifetime.”

“Time’s up!” He pointed the gun at Nellie.

“No!” Phyl reached out. “It isn’t here. But I can take you to it.”