Linda Warren - Deep In The Heart Of Texas

Her voice rattled on inside his head. She was telling him her problems, the last thing he wanted to hear. He didn’t want to know a single thing about her or her life. He just wanted to get her back to Clyde Maddox.

“Why are men so obsessed with sex?” she asked.

The question caught his attention and his head swiveled her way. “Excuse me?”

“Sex,” she repeated. “Kevin acted as if love and sex were the same thing. If I loved him, I’d sleep with him. If I cared about him, I’d sleep with him, and on and on it went. Why can’t a man realize that love and sex are not the same thing?”

“Because to some men they are.”

God, he couldn’t believe he’d said that. He didn’t want to talk to her or become involved in her problems, whatever they were.

“I thought that, too. So I bought this black teddy and a bottle of champagne. I decided what the hell, we’re getting married in the spring, anyway.” She tried to see his face in the darkness. “I’m not a prude, if that’s what you’re thinking. I just wanted everything to be perfect with the man I loved.”

“I’m not thinking anything, and I really don’t want to hear this.”

Instinct told her to shut up. She didn’t even know this man and she was pouring her heart out to him. But she had to tell someone. “You don’t like to talk, do you?” she finally said.

“No,” he snapped. “And I don’t like to listen to people’s problems, either.”

“You didn’t say I couldn’t talk.”

He sighed with deep annoyance. Why did women love to prattle on and on? He’d forgotten that irritating habit. And leave it to a woman to notice the one thing he’d forgotten to tell her. He’d bet Miranda Maddox could make a man dance circles around her—and make him enjoy doing it. Just like Sheila. What was he thinking? Sheila and this woman were nothing alike. Or were they?

“I went over to Kevin’s apartment,” she was saying, and against his will the hermit found himself listening. “I had a key, so I let myself in. The apartment was dark, and I assumed he wasn’t at home. Then I saw the candles burning on the coffee table, and I heard voices in the bedroom. Like a fool I walked right in…and saw my fiancé in bed with another woman. He was telling her how much he loved her. I dropped the bottle of champagne, which unfortunately didn’t break, and Kevin saw me. I ran from the apartment, and I can still hear him calling my name, saying it wasn’t how it had looked. Sure.” She gave a fake laugh. “He must have thought I was really stupid. I drove around until about three in the morning, then I went home. I couldn’t sleep, so I showered and dressed. No one was up. I sat on the patio, trying to sort out my life, and then suddenly the world went black and my nightmare began. I keep thinking if Kevin hadn’t betrayed me, none of this would have happened. I’d still be in his apartment thinking he was wonderful.”

No, she wouldn’t, the hermit thought. People like Kevin didn’t change. They sucked the life out of their partners with lies and deceit until there was nothing left. She was better off learning the truth about her fiancé before that happened.

He heard her take a deep breath, and the silence lasted for a few moments. Then she asked, “Do you think Spikes has discovered we’ve left the cabin yet?”

“Oh, yeah.” His voice rose with satisfaction. “We’ve been walking for more than five hours, so I’m sure he knows we’ve vanished into the night…and he’s madder than hell.”

SPIKES KICKED A LEG of the table inside the cabin and swore under his breath. “That goddamn hermit. I knew she was in here. I should’ve killed him. I should’ve killed the bastard.”

“Whata we do now?” Peavy wanted to know.

Spikes plopped down on the cot. “We get some sleep, and after that we track the lying bastard.”

“Then what?”

“What do you think? I’m sure she knows who we are, and so does the hermit. After I kill him, I’m gonna spend some time alone with the beautiful princess before I kill her, too. For years she’s looked down that pretty nose at me, but she won’t be so smug when I’ve finished with her.”

MADDOX HOUSE was thirty minutes from Austin, Texas. The huge mansion was an impressive structure, with wings, turrets and fountains. It was a facsimile of a castle in England and somewhat ostentatious for a ranch, but Helen Maddox, Clyde’s first wife, had designed the house after she fell in love with European castles during their honeymoon. Through five marriages and two children, the residence was still the family home.

Clyde Maddox’s study was a hub of activity. An FBI command post occupied one corner of the room. Two agents sat at a table, every technology available at their fingertips. The Maddox family sat in chairs and on sofas, waiting for the next ransom call. Alicia Adams, Miranda’s mother, heavily sedated, lay on one sofa, a wet cloth on her forehead.

Clyde, a man of medium height and build, paced the floor of the large book-lined room. At sixty-five, he was an imposing figure with his graying blond hair, direct brown eyes and erect stature. He had a booming voice and overpowering personality and a weakness for women. Two of his former wives had remarried, but the other two were still a part of his life, which his fifth wife did not appreciate. In business, as in his personal life, he was a formidable opponent. He was called “The Bulldozer.” He rolled over his adversaries with little thought or regard. He never let up or gave in, and the words I’m sorry weren’t in his vocabulary.

“Why in hell don’t they call?” Clyde’s loud voice reverberated around the room.

Clyde Thomas Maddox Jr., known as Tom, a replica of his father except for the gray hair, put an arm around his shoulder. “They’ll call, Dad. We just have to be patient.”

“They’d better not harm her. I swear I’ll kill them with my bare hands if they hurt her.”

A tall woman with brown hair and green eyes walked over to Clyde. The lines around her eyes and mouth showed her advancing years. “They’re after money, so they won’t harm her,” Helen Maddox assured him. Since she was the mother of Clyde’s only son, she still held a prominent place in the Maddox family.

A petite woman with dark eyes and hair spoke up. “You don’t know that. A kidnapper is not rational.” Doreen Maddox, Tom’s wife, always spoke her mind, much to her mother-in-law’s chagrin.

“Do you have to be so pessimistic?” Helen snapped.

Doreen glared at her mother-in-law. “I’m only being realistic.”

Before a quarrel could ensue, Brandi, Clyde’s fifth and present wife, got to her feet. A tall, green-eyed, voluptuous blonde, she towered over her husband by three inches. “If you ask me,” she said cattily, “it’s all just a ploy on Miranda’s part to get back at Kevin and, of course, to gain her father’s sympathy.”

“You bitch!” Alicia cried, sitting up clumsily. In her younger days, Ali had been a famous model and she still retained her shape and looks. She brushed blond hair away from her face as her blue eyes blazed with anger. “How dare you! I’ll pull that dyed hair out by the roots.” She made a lunge for Brandi, but Clyde caught her before she fell on her face.

“Calm down, Ali,” Clyde soothed, holding her in his arms and gently stroking her hair.

Brandi’s green eyes bore into him in a seething rage as she watched him console Ali. “You’re taking her side?” she asked in disbelief.

“Your remarks are out of line,” Clyde told her.

“You bastard. You can’t even see what’s going on under your nose.” With those scathing words, she whirled and headed for the stairs.

“She has a point, Clyde,” Helen interjected. “You’ve spoiled Miranda since the day she was born.”