Promise Broken (The Callahan Series) (19 page)

She reached out, wanting those strong arms around her. “I love you,” she whispered.

He didn’t respond. Before she touched him, he turned, gave her one last guarded look, and walked away.

She sat up with a start, wiped tears from her face and staggered to the bathroom. A dream. Nothing but a dream. She’d had it every night since she’d been here.

Was her subconscious telling her Donovan didn’t want her? After their time at the rock formation, even the homestead, she’d thought there was something growing between them. Something special. Maybe she was wrong.

Or maybe the danger she’d put Nellie in had turned him off. Maybe the family had gone ballistic when their mother had almost been killed.

Who could blame them?

Bearing the loss of the man she’d grown to love would be hard enough, but she’d deeply mourn the loss of Nellie, who had become both a friend and surrogate mother.

Mark kept her going. His enthusiasm over Snowman didn’t negate his nightly prayers to “please let them go back home.” Nothing, not even his daily rides on Snowman, could change his yearning for Donovan and the ranch.

She looked at the clock; four in the morning. It was too early to get up—too late to go back to sleep.

Rinsing away the tears, she lay back down, the dim light from the nightlight casting shadows over the room the Mackenzies had given them for their visit, as they called it. Phyl glanced over at Mark on the twin bed next to hers. He was sound asleep. Worn out from his busy day. Thank God for Faith. Mark was eager for his lessons, mainly because once finished he could ride Snowman the rest of the day.

Phyl reasoned that all mothers wondered what their children would do with their lives when they grew up. But she never dreamed that Mark would love the outdoors, love to ride, love the ranch the way he did.

Maybe he’d inherited that love from her dad, or from her. It was a thought.

At five, she couldn’t lay there another minute, so she got up, dressed and went downstairs to the kitchen.

She was sipping a cup of coffee when Ray walked in.

“You get up too early, Phyl,” he complained.

Phyl chuckled. She liked the Mackenzies. They were another example of what a marriage should be. “Work’s waiting,” she replied.

“You work too hard.”

“If I work, I don’t think. It’s good for me.”

He grabbed his own coffee and took a seat across from her. She was comfortable with the ex-FBI agent turned rancher. He was a good man.

“You have that look in your eyes again,” he said.

“What look is that, Ray?”

“You tell me.”

She set her cup on the table, looked over at the man who was old enough to be her father. Was probably more understanding than her own had been. “I miss the ranch, Ray. I miss the Callahans.”

“Especially Donovan?”

She looked at the concern in his deep brown eyes, nodded. “I can’t deny it. Now I think he won’t have me on the place after I put all of them, especially his mother, in such danger.” She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “She could have died because of me. The Callahans must hate me.”

“According to Mark, Donovan is more like a dad to him than a friend. How does he feel about you?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s breaking my heart.”

He took her hand, squeezed. “If the love is real it will work out.”

She raised tear-filled eyes to his. “Love? I hate myself for bringing such misery to the people I came to love. How must they feel?”

He patted her hand before he picked up his cup again. “You’ll know when you see them, Phyl. Trust me, everything will turn out as it should.”

“Then its time to get to work, isn’t it?” She stood, headed for the door. Stopped. “I guess I should wait for Ted.”

“Ted will find us. Besides I carry a couple of guns.”

“Only a couple?” she teased. “In that case, what are we waiting for?”

Laughing, he followed her out.

****

Several hours later, Mark came racing toward her on Snowman. The sight of them made her all mushy inside. Snowman wasn’t large, but Mark looked small sitting on his back. She couldn’t help being proud of the way he rode.

It was days like this when she missed Donovan the most. No matter what her chore, every time she turned around, she expected to see him. Instead, it was Ray’s pleasant face that looked back at her.

Mark urged Snowman over to the herd. “Watch this, Mom.”

He guided Snowman expertly through the cattle, picked a young heifer and worked her patiently until she was away from the herd. With the heifer leading the way, Mark headed toward her. His mile-wide grin made her smile.

“Mark! That’s amazing. When did you learn…how…?”

“Boy’s a fast learner.” Ray chuckled. “And Snowman’s been trained.”

“Won’t Donovan be surprised?” Mark said. “I can help with the roundup now.”

Not just yet, she thought, but wouldn’t dampen his spirits. “I’m so proud of you. You did that like a pro.”

Still grinning, Mark herded the heifer back to the rest of the cattle.

Mark was going to be a rancher. Just like her dad. She hoped with all her heart that he had the chance.

They worked for a while longer, then went in for lunch.

Today, like every day, she asked Ted for an update on the case.

“They got Gutierrez!” he said with a broad smile.

Phyl dropped her face in her hands. “Thank you, Lord.”

When she looked back up, she saw the serious expression on his face. “What is it?”

“You can’t go back.”

“What do you mean?”

“The FBI want you safe until the trial. Just because the cartel is in shambles and most are in custody doesn’t mean he can’t still get to you.”

****

Days crawled by at a snail’s pace. Donovan wanted to go to Phyl, knew he couldn’t. The drug cartel knew enough to have someone keep an eye on the ranch, possibly tape the phone calls. So he was careful to go into town and use the pay phone at Molly’s to call Max and ask if his FBI friends knew anything about Phyl and Mark. How they were—were they safe? But no one would say anything other than they
were
safe.

Even though the daily calls to Max yielded little information, Donovan couldn’t stop making them. Max, or rather Max’s FBI friends, were the only link he had to Phyl and Mark. Today, Donovan learned that Phyl’s house had been sold. Nothing else. It was driving him crazy. He was warned about the no-contact rule, but hadn’t realized the loss, the restlessness, the emptiness he’d feel.

His chores grew tedious. He wanted Phyl beside him. He wanted to see those brown eyes turn golden in the sun, wanted to see her hair blowing around her face in the wind. Most of all, he wanted to see her smile.

For the second time in his life, he didn’t have an appetite. Even though his mother nagged him constantly, food went uneaten. Dugan added his opinion with every visit, but Donovan couldn’t change the way he felt.

Knowing Phyl and Mark were safe did nothing to negate the yearning.

Max assured Donovan daily that they were being taken care of. He knew that.

The punching bags arrived. He hung them in the barn. At night when chores and dinner were over he punched out his frustration.

At first, Queenie and Freckles hid. Now, they expected him and the smacking sounds as his fists hit the bag.

Tonight was no different. When he’d exhausted himself, he took a shower and went to bed. As usual, his dreams were of Phyl and Mark.

Night and day they were in his thoughts.

He’d changed. He hadn’t felt this disheartened since the day he overheard his mom and his uncle talking—the day he learned the dreaded family secret. That was nothing compared to how he felt now. It was as if a part of his heart went missing when Phyl and Mark were taken away.

His mom came into the kitchen earlier than usual this morning.

“Am I late, or are you early? It won’t take a minute to have breakfast ready.”

“Don’t bother.” He wondered if he’d ever be hungry again.

She came to him, put her arms around his waist. “She’ll be back. I know she will.”

“How do you know?”

“She cares for us. She’s family. Once this is over…”

“I hope you’re right,” he said as he squared his Stetson on his head and went out the back door. “See you later.”

Chores didn’t take long, and the rest of the day loomed before him. He turned Stormy toward Rock Mountain. He found himself going there often. It was where he felt closest to Phyl.

He guided Stormy to the small lake that had formed between the rocks, wishing with everything in him that Phyl was there waiting for him.

As had become his habit, he stripped and dived into the cold water. Every day the water was a bit colder. Just like his heart.

He climbed out and dried himself with his shirt. They had to come home soon or he’d go crazy.

****

I can’t stand this hick town—can’t stand killing time just so the local yokels won’t catch on to me. Dammit all to hell, ain’t ever worked so hard for nothing. Talking to stupid ranchers about taking stupid pictures. Dumb asses bought my story. Whole town is full of idiots.

Right now, Gregory Mateo felt like an idiot himself. The bitch and her kid were gone. He wanted to hook it out of here, but the boss was still giving orders from the inside. And his orders were to stay put.

He slammed a hand against the wall of his rented house. How much longer could he keep this up? With everyone else behind bars he was watching his back. Even here they had a sheriff who looked big and bad enough to slam his sorry ass in jail.

So what was the deal? He needed to hide before he was picked up, too.

Dammed if he was going to spend the rest of his life in jail. He hadn’t done anything. Not yet, anyway.

Uncle Al had never liked him, so why’d he send him here? Probably just to get him out of the way. Even at fifteen, he’d known Uncle Al was into something bad, but his mom thought her brother was some big-shot businessman, just showing him the ropes. It’d made it so easy to stay with his uncle and not come back after that summer he’d run away. Uncle Al was okay, a good influence.

She’d died never knowing her brother brought at least fifty percent of the drugs into California.

But Al was always bitching about how he was always under his feet, asking too many questions, getting under his skin. So where was a kid supposed to go? He was a grown man now, but maybe he should have left a long time ago. The need to prove himself had kept him hooked, kept him with his uncle. All he’d wanted was one shot to prove he could be trusted. But Uncle Al thought he was a dummy and didn’t trust him with anything.

Now he was the only one not facing the pen.

So who was the dummy now?

****

Back in the kitchen, Agent Young paced the kitchen, a cup of coffee in one hand, a cell phone to his ear in the other. In jeans, a Western shirt and boots, he looked more like a cowboy than a U.S. Marshal. Right now, Phyl was angry enough to hit him. They’d promised she could leave once Gutierrez and his minions were behind bars. Without discussing options with her, they’d changed plans again.

She wouldn’t have it.

When he hung up, he turned to her.

“Well?”

“I’m sorry, Phyl, they want you to stay until the trial. Once you testify, you’ll be free to go wherever you like.”

Her heart hit the floor. They couldn’t do this to her. She had to see Donovan, talk to him. She owed Nellie and the rest of the Callahans an apology. Face-to-face, not over the phone. “I’m going back to the Callahan ranch. There’s a chance I won’t be there long, but I have to talk to them. I don’t intend to wait for a trial that may take six months or longer to get on the docket.”

“You can’t just walk out,” Ted warned.

“I can. And I will.” She gave him a long look. “If you want to stop me, you’ll have to shoot me.”

She headed for their room, leaving Ted with his mouth open, an incredulous look on his face. She didn’t care. She’d done everything the FBI asked. She’d been here for three weeks while they rounded up the cartel. Enough was enough. She was going back to try to make peace with the Callahans no matter the cost. Maybe then she could get a good night’s sleep.

She pulled out their things, stuffed them in the box and bag she’d brought them in. Tears choked her as she realized she didn’t even have a duffel bag.

Faith knocked on the door, came in and sat on the bed.

“I heard.”

“You’ve been wonderful, Faith, both you and Ray. But we can’t stay. Even though the Callahans may be glad we’re gone, my life is in Texas. If I have to, I’ll find another ranch to work. But I’m not waiting up to a year or longer for that man to come to trial.”

“I understand.”

Ray stuck his head in. “Ted told me what went down.”

“Don’t try to change my mind, Ray,” Phyl warned. “It won’t happen.”

“The FBI wants to keep you safe. After the trial you’ll be free.”

She walked up to him, looked into his concerned brown eyes. “I can’t put my life on hold that long. It isn’t right to ask. Ted assured me the cartel is busted. Everyone has been arrested. I’ll be safe. Besides, I didn’t ask for this.”

“No, you didn’t but Gutierrez is a powerful man. He could put out a hit on you from the inside. What then?”

“I only know I have to go back.”

“Because of your ex, his empire is in shambles. Revenge is a powerful motive for murder.”

She went back to packing. When she was finished she turned to him, put her hands on her hips. “Gutierrez may try to do just that. But this is something
I
have to do.”

“What about ID? Money?” he asked.

“You don’t need ID to take a bus.” She looked at him. “And you’ll loan me the money.”

“Probably will,” he mumbled, and walked out.

“He’s worried about you,” Faith said when the door shut.

“We’ll be fine.” It would be easier to hide now. She could change her name if she had to. With the money from the sale of her house she’d be able to afford a place to live.