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“You wanted to see me,” he said coldly, “I’m here, not out there.”
Kincaid didn’t respond. He didn’t turn around, either. He just kept looking out that window, his posture every bit as rigid as Jonas’s, his arms at his sides.
“Dammit, Kincaid…”
Jonas cocked his head. The windows were open; he could hear voices outside. He craned his neck, saw Caitlin and Leighton. What in tarnation had gotten into the girl today? She was hangin’ onto the arm of that spineless nephew of his, lookin’ up at him and laughin’ her head off.
And Kincaid’s hands were knotting into fists, as he listened and watched.
Jonas’s eyes narrowed. Did he really think he could have his way with Catie? She was a Baron. Well, she was the next best thing to a Baron, and the world would come to an end before he saw her in the arms of—of—
“Kincaid.” Jonas crossed the room and stood behind Tyler. “You got business with me, get to it, otherwise get out of my house and off my land.”
Tyler forced himself to turn away from the sight outside and turned, slowly, towards Jonas Baron. The old man looked as imperious as a Roman senator but there was a flicker in his eyes that said he wasn’t feeling quite as tough as his words, and his looks, suggested.
“You’re good at making that threat, Baron.”
“Ain’t a threat, it’s a promise.”
Tyler smiled. What he really wanted was to wrap his hands around the old man’s throat, but what good would that do, after all these years? He wanted the answers he’d come for. It was too late for vengeance.
Far too late.
“You’re good at pretending you don’t know why I’m here, either.”
“Business, you said.”
“No, Baron, I didn’t. I said we’re going to talk about something that happened thirty-five years ago.” Taking his time, he strolled past Jonas to the cabinet where he remembered the liquor was stored and opened it. “It’s too early for me to drink bourbon. Have you something else to wet a man’s throat?”
Jonas’s mouth turned down as he watched Tyler poke around inside the cabinet. “Makin’ yourself at home, ain’t you?”
Tyler looked around and smiled. “Sure,” he said lazily. “Heck, you know what they say. ‘Better late than never.’”
The men’s eyes met, and what Jonas saw made an icy fist close around his gut.
“I ain’t much for homilies,” he said curtly. “You want somethin’ else, try that cabinet just underneath.”
The cabinet was a small, well-disguised refrigerator. Tyler reached for a bottle, took his time opening it, lifting it to his lips and taking a long swallow. His throat felt parched, like the desert after an extended dry spell, and there was a cramp in his belly, which was dumb. He wasn’t nervous. What was there to be nervous about? He was about to confront his past. Put his demons to rest. Solve the puzzle, whatever in hell you wanted to call it, all thanks to an early-morning phone call from the private investigator.
“I hope you’re sitting down, sir,” Crane had said, in a tone that conjured up a picture of him wringing his hands with delight. “I have some astounding news.”
Tyler took another mouthful of ale.
Astounding was the word for it, all right. And that was the way he was determined to treat it, as news that amazed him, not information that had set his gut churning and prompted another dozen questions that needed answering even more desperately than the original.
He took a deep breath and turned to Jonas.
“I asked you some questions, the last time we spoke.”
Jonas shrugged his shoulders. “Mebbe.”
“Questions about babies born to women on Espada, thirty-five years ago.”
“Did you?” Jonas shrugged again. “My memory ain’t what it used to be, Kincaid, but if that’s what you say—”
“Don’t screw with me, old man.”
Tyler’s words fell like stones between them. Jonas started to answer, saw the tightly controlled fury in the younger man’s eyes, and decided keeping quiet might be a better plan.
“I told you I was especially interested in a child born here on or about July 18, thirty-five years ago.” Tyler put down the bottle of ale and folded his arms over his chest. “Does that jog your memory, Baron?”
“What if it does?” Jonas folded his arms, too. “Get to the point, Kincaid.”
“We talked about a couple of your men whose wives were pregnant that summer.”
“You talked. I listened. And I told you there wasn’t a way in hell I could remember details like who had a bun in the oven and who didn’t, that far back.”
“You remembered that your housekeeper had given birth that summer.”
“Yeah, well, that’s diff’rent. Carmen’s been here so long she’s part of the family. I put the boy she birthed that summer through medical school.” Jonas frowned and looked past Tyler to the grandfather clock in the corner. “I got things to do and places to go, Kincaid. You got somethin’ more to tell me, you’d best tell it.”
Tyler put his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. “What you didn’t remember was that your own wife had a baby that summer, too,” he said. His voice was very soft; the look in his eyes flat and unforgiving. “How come you didn’t mention that, when I asked you who’d had babies on this ranch, on or about July 18, thirty-five summers ago, Baron? How come you managed to forget that Juanita Baron dropped a litter, too?”
Jonas moved fast, much faster than Tyler would have figured a man his age could move. He shot out a hand, caught Tyler by the shirtfront.
“You watch what you say about my wife,” he growled.
“Take your hand off me, old man.” Tyler’s eyes flashed. “Take it off, or so help me, I’ll do what I’ve been thinking about doing ever since early this morning, I’ll pick you up by your neck and throw you through that damned window!”
The men glared at each other, eye to eye, toe to toe. At last, Jonas let go of Tyler’s shirt and took a step back.
“How come?” Tyler said, very softly.
“I didn’t mention it ’cause it was none of your business.”
“I asked you what you knew about babies born on Espada that summer.”
“And I answered you.” Jonas walked around Tyler, picked up his glass and drank down the rest of his bourbon. His hand trembled; the realization made his stomach turn with self-disgust. “I don’t owe you the details, Kincaid, but since you’ve asked them, I’ll tell you. Yeah, my wife—my first wife—was pregnant back then.” He looked at his glass, looked at the bottle of bourbon, picked it up and poured another inch of the liquid. “She died in childbirth.”
Tyler nodded. “I know that,” he said, and waited to feel something, just as he’d waited when the private detective dropped the news on him earlier, but he felt nothing. “She’s buried here, on Espada.”
“Yeah. Yeah, she is.” Jonas tossed back half his drink, wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and walked to the door. “You happy now?”
“Is that what you think I should be?” Tyler said, with a tight smile. “Happy?”
“Why wouldn’t you be? You came here, bullied your way into my library, got me to talk about somethin’ still hurts me to remember…”
“What does it hurt you to remember, old man?”
“Why, what I just told you. About losin’ my wife.” Jonas drew a shuddering breath. “Juanita was—she was special.”
He means it, Tyler thought, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the lined face. The old man had done what he’d done, but he’d loved his wife.
&nbs
p; For the first time since he’d begun his quest, Tyler wondered if he really wanted to push it any further. The deeper he dug, the more impenetrable things became. Maybe it would be better to leave here thinking he’d found the truth, but not certain of it.
No. Hell, no. Tyler straightened his shoulders. He’d never backed away from anything in his life, and he wasn’t going to start now.
“Special,” he said softly.
Jonas nodded. “That’s right.”
“So special that you plucked her baby from her womb and gave it away?”
There it was, Jonas thought, the ugly secret was out, dragged from the darkness where he’d thought he’d buried it so many years ago and thrust into a merciless present. He was ready, though. He’d been ready ever since the day Tyler Kincaid had confronted him. Truth was, he’d been half expecting this moment for a long time.
Thirty-five years ago, he’d still been young enough to believe a man with power and money could dig a hole so deep the secret he dropped into it would never be found. But a lot had happened since then. Governments had fallen. Presidents had tumbled. No secret was safe, really safe, anymore…not unless you were the only one who kept it.
Jonas sighed. “Kincaid,” he said, “you amaze me.”
“The feeling’s mutual. You amaze me, too, Baron. I once beat the crap out of a man I caught trying to dump a puppy in the river.” Tyler’s voice roughened and he took a step forward. “Just imagine what I want to do to you.”
“You amaze me, boy, because you’ve got one hell of an imagination. ‘Plucked the child from her womb and gave it away?’ Is that what you’re accusin’ me of?”
“Yes,” Tyler said coldly. “That’s exactly what I’m accusing you of.”
“Well, I hate to derail this train from wherever you’re tryin’ to take it, Kincaid, but the simple fact of the matter is, my Juanita died and her baby died with her.”
