Sheri WhiteFeather - Once a Rebel

No, she thought, her emotions turning sad. He wouldn’t always be there. If marriage didn’t end in divorce, then it ended in death.

There was no pain-free escape.

“Tell me about Jason Jamison,” she said, her mind drifting to the criminal who’d been haunting her family.

Ryan set down his fork. “He’s a madman. A disgruntled relative.”

“He’s one of us?”

“In a roundabout way. As you know, my father, Kingston, was adopted by the Fortune family. And a man named Travis Jamison was his biological father.”

“And Jason is a descendent of Travis?”

Ryan nodded, but Lily didn’t move. She sat quietly, listening to Susan and her husband discuss the Fortune legacy.

“Did Travis know about Kingston?” Susan asked. “Did he know he had a son?”

“No. But once Jason discovered that he was a long-lost relative of my father, he swooped down on us like the vulture he is.”

Lily finally spoke. “Jason is a killer. A heartless murderer.”

A chill rattled Susan’s spine, like ice chips scraping against each and every vertebra. She already knew that Jason was a killer, but hearing Lily say it, listening to the anxiety in her voice, brought the reality that much closer to home.

“Did Vincent tell you that Natalie witnessed one of the murders?” Lily asked.

Susan nodded. Vincent was her oldest brother and he’d filled her in about what Natalie, his new bride, had seen. “Jason strangled his own lover. A woman he was passing off as his wife.”

“That’s right,” Lily said. “And before that, Jason shot his own brother.”

Susan couldn’t imagine someone killing his or her sibling. But according to the Bible, Cain had slain Abel. It wasn’t something new.

“Jason has another brother,” Ryan put in. “And this one’s an FBI agent. He’s going to contact me when he gets into town. He’s put other killers behind bars, and he’s not going to rest until he catches Jason.”

“What’s his name?” Susan asked, curious about the man Ryan was putting his faith in.

“Emmett,” he told her. “Emmett Jamison.”

“Jason already escaped from prison,” Lily told Susan. “It happened while he was being transferred to a maximum-security facility.” She paused, took a breath. “We’re grateful that Special Agent Jamison is on his tail. We need all the help we can get.”

Ryan took his wife’s hand. “It will be okay, honey. I promise, it will.”

“I know. But I couldn’t bear it if he hurt someone in our family.” She met Susan’s gaze across the table. “Just because we have security on the ranch doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t be careful. Or take their presence for granted.”

Ryan interjected. “Of course she’ll be careful. We all will. But we can’t live in fear. We can’t let Jason destroy our lives.” He brought Lily’s hand to his lips and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. “We deserve some happiness. Some peace and quiet.”

Susan didn’t say anything. She let Ryan give his wife the comfort she needed. The support only a husband, the man who loved her, could provide.

At noon, Susan arrived at the hunting cabin. She parked the SUV she’d borrowed from Ryan behind Ethan’s truck and trailer and noticed the horses that were tied to a hitching post on the side of the property.

The building itself, a rustic log structure, sat on a piece of land that blended into the horizon, stretching as far as the eye could see. In the front yard a scatter of trees provided shady ambience, and a rough-hewn porch offered two sturdy, old barrel chairs, where a trio of dogs enjoyed the afternoon sun.

The largest of the three, a black Lab, lifted its head as Susan approached, then leaped forward to greet her like an old friend. The other two, mutts of unknown origin, barely paid her any mind.

Within seconds, Ethan flung open the door, and her pulse jumped to her throat. He looked tall and strong—a man with a powerful presence. Shadows cut across his shoulders, dappling the front of a chambray shirt. Beneath the brim of his ever-present hat, those bright blue eyes glittered like twin jewels.

The mixed-breed dogs glanced up at him, but the Lab stayed by her side.

“He likes women,” Ethan told her.

“So you’re a boy,” she said to the Lab.

“His name is Chocolate. But don’t blame me for that. My ex-girlfriend named him.”

Curious, Susan tilted her chin. His voice held no malice, but it didn’t ring of affection, either, or any kind of substantial loss. It made her wonder about Ethan’s capacity to fall in love.

“Are you analyzing me?” he asked.

Caught red-handed, she adjusted the canvas bag over her shoulder. “What can I say? You’re a fascinating subject. Besides, you brought up your ex.”

“Only because of Chocolate’s name. And you fascinate me, too. You always did. Even if I never kissed you.”

Susan glanced at his mouth, and that familiar smile spread across his lips. He was flirting with her, letting down his guard. And she was tempted to flirt back, to enjoy the affection she used to crave from him.

Enraptured, they gazed at each other, with Chocolate standing between them. Then the dog decided he wanted some attention and jammed his nose against Susan’s crotch.

She started, and Ethan bit back a laugh.

“I told you he liked women.”

“That’s not funny. You should correct him.”

“I do, but he never listens. Especially about that.”

“So you just gave up?”

He shrugged, and she shook her head and shoved the canvas bag at him. A gentle shove that had him smiling at her again.

“What’s in here?” he asked. “Dirty magazines? A month’s supply of condoms?”

She raised her eyebrows. When Ethan flirted, he flirted. No holds barred. “It’s our lunch, you pervert.”

“Look who’s talking. The girl who drove every boy in the county mad.”

“I don’t do that anymore.”

“Wanna bet?” He grinned and peered into the bag, examining the contents. “Fried chicken gets a guy every time.”

“There are cookies in there, too.”

“Chocolate chip?”

She glanced at the Lab, making sure he didn’t react too strongly to his name. “Peanut butter. But I didn’t bake them. They were left over in the kitchen.”

“I’ll bet Rosita made them,” he said, referring to Ryan and Lily’s housekeeper. “She used to give me sweets when I was a kid.”

Susan nodded. She knew that Rosita’s husband, Ruben, was a retired ranch hand, a man who’d worked with Ethan’s dad. “How’s your father doing these days?” she asked, assuming he’d retired, as well.

Ethan’s easy manner faltered. “Dad died four months ago. I guess Ryan didn’t tell you.”

“No, he didn’t. I’m sorry.”

“Ryan’s had a lot on his mind.” He heaved a heavy sigh. “But he took it pretty hard. He and Dad were close.”

“So were you and your father,” she said, recalling the stable relationship they’d had, the respect between them. “I always envied you that.”

“It’s been tough these past few months. I really miss him.” He closed the canvas bag, shifting his gaze, changing the subject. “Why don’t you come in and see the cabin? Then we can go for a ride and eat all the wonderful food you brought.”

She followed him into the house, with Chocolate nipping at her heels. The other dogs remained outside.

The cabin consisted of one large room, a simple kitchen and a closet-size bathroom. Animal pelts and hunting trophies lined the walls. A leather couch that she assumed was a sofa bed sat adjacent to a stone fireplace, and braided area rugs padded portions of the wood floor. In the corner, a small oak table accommodated two rustic chairs.