Eliza received a call from a woman in town who had a Halloween party to plan. She claimed to have gotten her name from the senator’s daughter, which raised a red flag. Brandon was angry with her for agreeing to go. She wasn’t even sure why she had. It was business here in Vengeance. She’d always maintained her ties here. Vengeance was her hometown. But why now? Why agree to work now? For a distraction. David was dead and she couldn’t stop thinking about Brandon.
Did she hope he’d changed? Dread almost made her tell him to take her back to the ranch. She should not be feeling the way she was for him. Not with David murdered. His brother. Her husband. But they were already here, at the building where the woman had instructed them to meet. The parking lot was empty. The building had foreclosure stickers on the window of the front door.
“This was a used car lot. Old man Flanders went to live with his daughter in Tucson,” Brandon said.
He knew about everyone in town. “How did you find that out?”
“Someone at the market told me.”
“You sure are chatty around here.”
It struck her as both odd and charming at the same time. He wasn’t the surly recluse she had him pegged for.
He opened his truck door. “Are you sure this is it?”
She checked the address again. “Yes.”
“Who would want a party here?”
It was a little run-down. Abandoned. Movement in one of the windows gave Eliza a chill. Someone had peered through the glass from the protection of a wall and then retreated.
“Maybe you should wait here while I go check it out,” Brandon said.
“No, I’ll go in with you.”
She got out of the truck as her cell rang. She checked who it was. Ryker. She answered.
“Eliza, thank God.” He was breathless with urgency.
“Ryker? What’s wrong? Are you in trouble again?”
Brandon came to stand before her, the argument over whether she’d go with him tabled for now.
“No. Listen, I had a visit from Jillian. Whatever you do, don’t go near her.”
“What?” She caught sight of more movement inside the building. A shadow went through an open doorway leading to a back room.
“She’s insane over Brandon.”
Eliza pointed to the building and Brandon twisted to look, but the shadow was gone.
Brandon looked there and then at her in question.
“Yeah, I know,” she told her brother. “She broke into his house and we caught her making dinner the other night. Imagine our surprise.” She walked with Brandon toward the building. The closer she got the more disrepair she noticed. Weeds had taken over the border and grew in cracks in the parking area.
“She made you dinner?”
“Yeah. Spaghetti.”
“Why?”
“Why would any crazy woman make the man she’s stalking and his girlfriend dinner?”
“What happened after you caught her?”
“Brandon’s ranch hand helped us get rid of her.”
“Where are you now? Are you alone?”
“I’m with Brandon.” She stepped onto the cracking sidewalk that led to the entrance.
“Good.” He sighed his relief. “Stay with him or come to my house where I can watch you, okay?”
Her brother genuinely cared about her. “I will. Thanks, Ryker.”
“Hey. Aegina and I have a date tomorrow night.”
They were patching things up? “That’s great news.”
“Why don’t you come over in the morning so we can talk?”
Her brother was ready to talk. Eliza was thrilled. “I’ll be there. Tell Mom to make her veggie omelets.”
“Will do. Did you say you were meeting someone for a possible job?”
They reached the front door. “Yeah. It was the weirdest thing. A woman called about a Halloween party, and she gave us this address to a foreclosed building.”
“Huh. That is weird.” He seemed to take time to think. “Be careful.”
“Stop worrying. I’m with Brandon, remember?” When she reached for the door handle, Brandon stopped her, removed a gun from the waist of his jeans and looked around for anyone who might see them. There was no one other than a passing car.
“Yeah. That is a comfort. Give me a call later.”
“I’ll check in.” She disconnected, smiling, feeling like she had a family again but too aware of Brandon’s gun and the creepy building to enjoy it.
Brandon pushed open the door and entered with his gun drawn. The hardwood floor was dusty. Cobwebs were thickest in the corners of the open showroom, not a large room but big enough for one or two cars. There were no desks or tables, and the light fixtures were broken.
Eliza stayed behind Brandon as he moved to the back room. “I think the woman went back there. Maybe she saw you and left.” Maybe Jillian had hoped Eliza would come alone.
The creak of a door sounded from the back. Brandon pushed through the door and they entered what once had been an auto repair shop. One of two overhead garage doors was open. A breeze flowed inside. Whoever had been here was gone.
Brandon went outside. Overgrown shrubs and grass and weeds swallowed the fence bordering the property.
A car engine started. She looked with Brandon and caught a glimpse of a tan car backing up to turn around near the end of the building. Half the car was visible beyond the swaying branches of a large lilac bush.
“Wait!” Brandon ran, waving at the person driving as he passed the shrubbery.
Eliza ran after him. When she reached the lilac bush, she stopped, close to the car but out of sight.
Through the branches of the bush, Eliza saw Jillian behind the wheel of the car, face wet from crying. She had braked the car to a halt as Brandon approached. Eliza held back.
Brandon bent to the open window, hand on the frame. “What are you doing here, Jillian?”
“She was supposed to come alone.” Eliza heard her wail, an eerie sound in the breeze.
“What are you doing here?” he repeated.
“I...” She sniffled and struggled to regain her composure. “I was going to plan a party.”
“Here?” Brandon straightened and looked toward the building, seeing Eliza by the bush.
Jillian glanced at the side of the building with him, dazed now that her crying had ended, lethargic. Eliza had a feeling that if she approached the car, she would stop talking to Brandon. She had a connection to him in some sort of way, some bizarre way that no one other than she understood.
“Jillian?”
His voice brought her head turning back to him, pitiful eyes meeting his.
“What is it about me?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Why can’t you love me? Why can’t anyone love me?”
“You’ll find someone. You can’t force it, though.”
Jillian shook her head rigorously back and forth. “There’s no one. No one will ever love me.”
Brandon didn’t respond. Really, what could he say? Eliza almost felt sorry for the woman. She was so insecure that it had driven her mad.
“What is it about me?” she repeated.
Again, Brandon didn’t reply. Jillian had emotional problems that needed to be addressed. She hadn’t done anything violent yet, but maybe she’d reach a threshold and break. She was broken now, but she hadn’t tried to kill anyone.
Or would she have tried if Eliza had arrived alone?
“I thought you were different,” she said, off in her own world. “You were like me.”
“Like you?”
As in crazy? Eliza marveled over that one.
“You know how it feels to be raised in a strict house, by strict parents. And your mother died.”
“Jillian, what are you talking about?”
Now suddenly flustered, Jillian shook her head. “I should go.”
“Wait. What are you talking about?” Brandon pressed, putting his hand on the frame of the car window again.
His nearness seemed to relax Jillian, as though she clung to every stolen moment she could be close to him. Sad and disturbing.
“Your dad, of course.”
“What about him?”
“We have that in common. Your dad and mine.”
Her voice came in patches with a gust of wind, making it difficult for Eliza to hear.
Jillian slid her hands up the wheel and gripped it at the top, facing forward, lost in her topsy-turvy world. “I dreaded walking home from school every day. I’d take my time and go the longest route. At first my dad would punish me for being late. Then he got used to me getting home late all the time. I always hoped by the time I got there, he’d be too drunk to...”
Her face was a window into the past, all the pain and suffering gathering into a frown of desensitized horror. She’d lived through hell, and hell wasn’t such a scary place anymore. It was the place where Jillian dwelled most of the time.
Eliza stepped forward, feeling pity she couldn’t grasp. She stopped when Jillian looked up at Brandon. “I could tell you were living the same life as me. Different punishments, but the same.”
Different punishments...
Had she been sexually abused by her father? Brandon had been beaten. Jillian had been molested.
Eliza’s stomach soured.
“How could you tell?”
Again, Jillian elapsed into history. “Your face.”
“That was a long time ago. Things have changed now.”
“No, they haven’t.” Jillian looked up at him. “You and I are the same. Why can’t you see that?”
“We aren’t the same. I got past what my father did.”
That wasn’t entirely true.
“You can’t erase the past, Brandon. You need me. We’re the same.”
“Maybe you should go talk to someone. You and I are not the same, and I am not interested in you the way you want me to be. It’s time you accepted that.”
“You mean I need a psychiatrist?” Jillian scoffed. She wiped her face angrily, mood shifting trigger fast. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You can have any woman you please. You don’t stop and think about the consequences of your carelessness. You think you can engage and disengage whenever you have the whim. You didn’t stop to think about how it would affect me.”
“Jillian, we hadn’t been seeing each other long. We never even had sex.”
“That’s what made me think you were special. You didn’t rush. And your father was...”
“My father is a dangerous man.”
“Yes. Dangerous. You and I belong together, Brandon.” She turned and looked at Eliza, who was no longer hidden by the shrub. “You’re just confused right now.”
“I’m not confused, Jillian. You have to stop this. There is no future for us and never will be.”
Jillian remained silent for a while, looking up at him, not accepting what he said.
She put the car in Reverse. “You’ll see.” Driving in reverse slowly, she forced Brandon to step away from the car.
Eliza moved to stand beside him as Jillian backed out onto the street and then drove out of sight.
That’s when it struck her. “She’s driving a tan car.”
Brandon turned to her. “Is it the same model?”
Eliza wasn’t sure. “It could be.”
He thought a moment. “Jillian was with me when you and David saw the one at the ranch.”
So it was impossible that Jillian had been driving the same car. “I sure hope she leaves us alone now.”
“That makes two of us.” He started toward the road where his truck was parked. “Come on. Let’s go grab some dinner.”
* * *
Walking with Brandon down the street toward their burger place, they heard Irish music drift out of O’Neil’s. People spilled out onto the small enclosed patio; the two tables were full. Laughter and conversation blended into unified jollity.
“Looks like Roger is having another celebration.”
“Someone else you know in town?” She supposed that shouldn’t be so amazing to her. Vengeance wasn’t a big city. Still, she wasn’t ready to let go of her fifteen-year perception of him. It kept her safe, after all, believing he was too isolated to keep up with her social pace.
They drew closer, and a few people turned their way.
“Brandon,” a round-bellied man with a bald head greeted from among the crowd.
“Roger.” Brandon veered toward the entrance to the patio. “Eliza, this is Roger O’Neil. Do you remember Tory?”
“Yes.” She was a grade behind her in high school. A pretty Irish girl who was popular with the boys. “Are you her father?”
“That I am. We married her off last year. She moved to Boston with her husband. We miss having her around, but I suppose you can’t expect everyone to stay in this town.”
Not unless you were Ryker.
“Where are you headed?” Roger asked.
“We were going to have dinner at that burger place,” Brandon answered.
“Come and join us,” Roger waved them onto the patio. “The Bradleys’ girl got married today. Plenty of food inside.”
“Put it that way...” Brandon stepped onto the crowded patio.
“I’ll find you a table.” Roger led them inside, where the band blew horns and beat drums to a lively jig. It was dim in here, more of a pub than a restaurant. That along with rustic tables and green accents belied its Texas address.
A waitress quickly cleaned a booth for them at Roger’s bidding. Eliza sat next to Brandon on the bench seat so she could see the band.
“Heard all about the stable,” Roger said. “Sure sorry to hear about David, too. Such a shock.”
Neither she nor Brandon said anything.
“Those agents in town any closer to catching the killer?”
“No, not yet,” Brandon said.
Another waitress dropped off two glasses of water. “What will you two be drinking tonight?”
“Water’s fine with me.”
“Two Foster’s,” Brandon said, grinning at Eliza’s protesting glance. “Live a little.”
It would be nice to forget about Jillian for a while. His father. David. Why did bad news always have to happen in threes?
“I was glad to hear the task force working the murders has eliminated you as a suspect, Eliza. I knew your dad back in the day. Nice family. He was a good man.”
“Thank you.”
“There’s a buffet over there.” Roger pointed to the corner next to the band. “Or you can order from our menu.”
Someone interrupted Roger, and he made an excuse to leave them.
Eliza turned to Brandon. “Did I hear you say ‘live a little’?” Brandon Reed, encouraging her to party?
“We aren’t kids anymore.”
What did that mean? That living a little now was different than partying as a teenager? She looked around at all the smiling faces. People danced. Drank. Laughed. A celebration. It was more than getting together as friends and partying. This was a celebration of life. Brandon did live that way. He never wasted a moment. She’d wasted them every Friday.
“You never stop surprising me.”
“Don’t let it go to your head.”
She laughed and scooted closer to him on the bench seat, not caring how it appeared.
Their beers arrived, and they ordered dinner. Eliza lifted her beer and held it out to Brandon. He lifted his, eyeing her peculiarly, but with affection in his eyes.
“To life.”
“Life.” He clinked his mug with hers.
It felt too good to sit close to him and share a long look. She turned to the celebration.
“How many of these people do you know?” she asked.
“Just about everyone. I do get out every once in a while. I think I actually got an invitation to this wedding.”
A lot had happened to cause it to slip his mind. “It’s nice.”
“It meets your Hollywood standards?” he asked dubiously.
“Well.” She took in the plain white cake and tiny vases of red roses on the tables. “I’d have spruced it up a bit.” Not much, though.
“Chandeliers, big floral arrangements, linens?”
She looked around the Irish pub. The style spoke for itself. “No. More color on the cake and maybe a banner or something.”
“Casual for you. I would expect more extravagance.”
“Really?”
“Aren’t those the kind of parties you plan in Hollywood?”
“Yes, but...” She missed doing casual.
“Small-town charm getting to you?”
She smiled and breathed a laugh. “It sure is.” And so was he.
They shared another long look. The waitress arrived with their sandwiches.
Eliza watched a little girl in a white dress dance with the groom. The bride danced with an older gentleman who must be her father. A table of men laughed boisterously, well into their beers. A couple sat at another table, deep into a quiet conversation. Newly acquainted.
She looked at the little girl again.
“Cute, isn’t she?” Brandon said.
“Very.”
“Do you want kids someday?”
“I don’t know.” She hadn’t thought about it much. Her business had taken the front seat in her life. Even her marriage had been secondary to that.
“Do you?”
“No.”
His terse response reminded her of his hang-up with his father.
“I think you should. You’d make a great dad.”
“No, I wouldn’t.”
Curious, how adamant he was. “Why do you think that about yourself? You aren’t your father.”
“No, but he’s mine.”
So, he had violent blood running through him, and that was why he didn’t want kids. “Give yourself a little credit.”
“Don’t ruin the night, Eliza.”
They had created this patch of tranquility in the middle of chaos. She didn’t want to end it yet, either. Still, she couldn’t let it go just yet.
“If I were your wife, I’d show you what a good man you are.”
Rather than threaten to ruin the night, what she said softened the mood. Brandon looked at her with growing heat, heat kept at a low simmer, pleasantness, contentment, delight. Now she’d triggered something else, brought out a match that was ready to light.
The waitress reappeared. Her timing was impeccable.
Brandon ordered two more beers. She already felt the first one.
Out on the dance floor, the bride and groom danced to a slow song. The bride’s parents danced nearby, each watching the couple, proud and happy.
The tune picked up in tempo, back to a jazzy, horn-blowing beat.
“Let’s go dance.” Brandon gave her a nudge to slide out of the booth.
Levity renewed. Excited over the prospect of him cutting loose, she stood and went to the crowded dance floor. He turned out to be a good dancer. Another surprise. She boogied closer to him. He took her hand and swayed with her to the snappy beat. She loved the smile in his eyes.
Nothing mattered but this. Lively music, the crowd, the happy celebration. An escape from all that was happening outside of it. No one judged them. No one gave them disapproving looks. No murders. No threats. Everything fell away except sharing this night with Brandon.
She danced in his arms through three vivacious songs. Then a slower, romantic tune began to play. With her arms over his shoulders, she looked up at him, at the match that was ready to light, and stepped back. Talk about ruining the night. All they needed was another round in bed. They sat out the slow song, drinking beer well into the next faster one.
She was beginning to feel the alcohol quite a bit.
“I’ve had enough. How about you?” he said.
Right in tune with her. “I was just about to say something like that.”
Normally, Eliza could stay the entire the night, but strangely, now was different. This wasn’t her party. She hadn’t planned it. She was a guest.
Leaving the pub, Brandon took her hand as they walked along the street to his truck, a silent message that he was enjoying this as much as her. Being together. Forgetting all that stood in the way.
She inhaled deeply. It was a quiet, clear night. This didn’t feel wrong.
At his truck, she stopped. Instead of opening the door for her, he pulled her to face him, pulled again and had her against him. Her hands were on his chest. He angled his head and kissed her.
The kiss quickly fanned into more. He cupped her face with one hand, his mouth mashing with hers. When he lifted his head, she stared up at the fire in his golden-brown eyes. The past was nowhere near her heart now. Only the rightness of this night burned in her.
He opened the door, and she got in. It was a wordless acknowledgment of what would come. As he drove toward the ranch, she was so aware of him. He glanced over once, eyes flaming, drifting down her body. Then he drove faster on the two-lane highway leading out of town. The fifteen-minute drive felt like an hour. It was long enough for the magic of the night to wear off.
When they reached the driveway, she’d already decided to refuse him if he tried to finish what he’d started. Judging from his now tense profile, low, shadowy brow, tight line of his mouth, he’d drawn the same conclusion.
The flame was officially doused when another car appeared on the road, heading for them.
“Who’s that?”
Brandon didn’t answer. The headlights drew nearer. As it passed she saw it was tan in color. Jillian’s car.
“Does that woman never give up?”
“It wasn’t Jillian.” Slamming on the brakes, Brandon whipped his truck around and revved the engine to give chase to the car. But the car had sped up and now raced a good distance ahead.
At the highway, it disappeared as it turned.
Brandon reached the highway. By then there was no sight of the taillights of the other car. Brandon drove fast. He didn’t lessen the pace until the next town over from Vengeance popped up on the horizon.
He drove through town, searching side streets. No sign of the tan car. Finally, he turned and drove back toward the ranch.
“Are you sure it wasn’t Jillian?”
“It was my dad. I saw him driving.”
“Jillian’s car?”
He didn’t comment.
“Do they know each other?”
“I don’t see how. He’s been in prison for ten years. And Jillian didn’t know him when he was here.”
She was about thirty years younger than him, too.
“Weird that they drive the same car.”
“Dad probably stole the one he’s driving.”
They reached the ranch, Brandon keeping a vigilant eye as they made their way to the front porch. Inside, Brandon stopped her from going to the guest room.
“Sleep with me.”