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“That’s what happened.”
“I—I don’t believe you.”
“And just what do you think went on?”
“I think you’ve been conning me, Denver. This was all just a game to you. You don’t have to deny it, because it just won’t work. I’m done listening to your stupid lies.”
“Lies?” he bellowed, sweeping her into his arms furiously, every muscle straining. He yanked her close against his rock-hard body, his nose nearly touching hers, his breath fanning her face, his eyes narrow slits. His fingers dug into her forearms. “The only lies I’ve told are to other people—people like my brother—to protect you!”
“Save it for someone who’ll believe it.”
His grip tightened. “I’m not lying, damn it!” Raw energy flowed from his body to hers—she could feel the anger coiling deep within him.
Tessa glared at him. “You never intended to sell this place to me! If you wanted to reach me, you could have. Instead you called Nate Edwards and bought my horses back so you could use them here.”
“Why would I do that?” he growled.
“You tell me.”
“Okay, I will!” Blue fire sizzled in his eyes. “Just after you left, I got a call from the private investigator.”
“In Northern Ireland.”
“Yes. He was worried about Colton. He’d spoken to him once and knew he was in trouble.”
“So you flew over there?” she asked, doubting him.
“Yes, damn it. I went to Northern Ireland to find him and bring him back here to sign the papers. The trouble was, we didn’t get that far because someone strolled into this cozy little bar and started taking potshots!” His eyes had grown cold, his face white beneath the black stubble of his beard.
“Don’t lie, Denver!” But she’d begun to believe him, despite the voice in her mind that reminded her how often he’d lied.
His fingers clenched and he gave her a little shake. “That’s what happened, Tess.”
“I can’t believe—”
“Because you won’t!” The fingers digging into her flesh suddenly gave way.
“Why should I?” she demanded.
“Because it’s the truth. Oh, hell.” He shoved his hair out of his eyes impatiently and closed his eyes, as if trying to control his temper. He seemed weary and wrung out.
Seconds ticked by. Tessa edged toward the door.
When he spoke again, his voice was low—almost gentle. “You and I both know the kind of work he does, how he thrives on danger.”
That much was true.
“Someone was trying to kill him.”
She felt numb inside. “Why?”
He shook his head, his broad shoulders slumping. “I’m not really sure. No one would tell me the whole story and I don’t think the authorities have everything pieced together—at least not yet. I had a hell of a time leaving the country.” Denver stretched wearily, shoving his shirtsleeves over his forearms as he did.
“Go on,” she said, disgusted with herself for even listening. He was a liar, a cheat, a man who had found her pride and stomped all over it—
“As Dunkirk—he’s the private investigator Ross hired—figured it, someone must have blown Colton’s cover. Colton was in pretty tight with the IRA and had managed to take a few photos they wouldn’t want published.”
“So the IRA had him shot.”
