Dane pulled his pickup in front of the two-story foreman’s house and killed the engine. The headlights illuminated the front porch with its square columns and the porch swing on the left-hand side. The white paint had faded some with age since it hadn’t been painted in a few years. He’d moved into the foreman’s house five years earlier when he’d taken over the responsibility for the Boudreau ranch. With the long hours, and getting up before dawn most mornings, it only made sense. Especially when each of his brothers decided to pursue jobs that kept them away from the ranch. Sure, they helped out whenever they could, since they all loved the ranch and the entire spread that belonged to the family, but not like he did. The land grounded him in a way he couldn’t explain. It gave him the roots he’d craved growing up.
His feelings had nothing to do with feeling unloved, just the opposite. Momma and Dad made sure he knew he was wanted. Loved. That he belonged in a family where every single one of them knew they’d been chosen. Cherished. Yet the land spoke to him, gave him a purpose. Raising the cattle, through sickness and crazy weather, vet visits, and the occasional rustler gave him a feeling of accomplishment a nine-to-five job never could. He knew because he’d tried that route. It had been an unmitigated failure.
A single headlight appeared behind him, followed by the growling rumble of a motorcycle, which pulled up beside his truck with a barely controlled roar. The feminine curves straddling the big beast didn’t surprise him. He noted the leather pants on Destiny earlier and had watched her pull on a weather-beaten leather jacket before he’d pulled out of Juanita’s parking lot.
Destiny alighted from the motorcycle and strode forward, confidence guiding every step. Stopping beside the pickup’s driver’s open window, she propped an elbow in the opening and shot him a cocky grin.
“You gonna sit here all night, cowboy, or are we going inside? I can’t wait to see what you’ve got to show me.” Giving him a flirty wink, she sauntered toward the front porch, lightly climbing the steps to stand beside the front door. Silently chuckling, he couldn’t help thinking she looked as good walking away as she did coming.
Breathing deeply, he paused on the first porch step, inhaling the scent of the night-blooming jasmine that climbed along the columns on the right side of the porch, its sweet fragrance perfuming the darkness. He loved sleeping with his windows open, letting the familiar flowers’ smell lull him to sleep.
Opening the front door, he watched Destiny, gauging her reaction to his home. Why, he wasn’t sure, but there was a deep-seated desire for her to like the place. And that was crazy. Her opinion shouldn’t matter one way or the other—yet it did.
The old farmhouse wasn’t modernized, except for the kitchen. He’d preferred leaving the homey touches the way it had been when the original Boudreaus lived here before the Big House had been built. A sense of history oozed from each floorboard, every nook and cranny revealing its own story. While he loved the Big House and its sense of family, to him the original farmhouse was home.
“This place is amazing. Look at that molding. And the staircase. It’s original, isn’t it?”
“Yes. This is the old house. Dad’s grandparents built it when they bought the property, so it’s been around for a long time. Mostly it was the foreman’s house, but now it’s mine.”
“It’s awesome. The character. The history. I bet if these walls could talk, they’d have some interesting stories to tell.” She spun in a slow circle, her arms outstretched. “I love older homes. The sense that people cherished them, loved and cared for them, it’s ingrained with each nail. Every scuff and scrape. You’re lucky to have a place with these kinds of memories.”
Dane swallowed at the look of undisguised longing on her face as Destiny ran her hand along the banister. Every word she’d said rang with the truth. Looking at her, with her short hair and tattoos, riding a motorcycle that seemed almost too big for her to handle, he’d expected her to be all about modern touches. Chrome and glass. Sharp angles and minimalism. Guess he had to revise his opinion. Little Miss Destiny was full of surprises.
“Can I get you anything? Something to drink?”
She shook her head. “I’m good.”
He shoved his hands into the back pockets of his jeans, wondering not for the first time that night if he’d made a mistake bringing her here. Sure, she’d discovered the link on the mercenary site, with the alleged hit on him. That didn’t mean he should share his info with her. But something inside, some gut instinct—one he didn’t want to ignore—told him it would be worth it. He believed her when she’d given her word not to tell anyone. When the time was right, he planned on explaining everything to his family. They deserved the truth, but he wasn’t ready. Because they’d be hurt, which was the last thing he wanted.
“Come on, Dane, quit stalling. You said you had something to show me, something which would make the threat on your life make sense. Spill it, cowboy.”
“What’s your hurry?”
She rolled her eyes. “Have you glanced at a clock recently? It’s late. I’m tired, and I still have work to get done when I get home.” She shot him a look, her mouth turning down in a frown. “Please tell me you didn’t bring me here on some wild goose chase, trying to convince me not to keep digging. If that’s your plan, it ain’t gonna happen.”
Dane sighed, knowing he couldn’t put it off any longer. Besides, Destiny was smart. Maybe she’d notice something he’d missed.
“Follow me, princess.”
“Princess?” She gave an inelegant snort. “Boy, have you got the wrong idea, cowboy. Nobody could be further from a princess than me.”
“You call me cowboy.”
“Well, you deal with cows and you’re a guy, so…”
“Touché.” He gestured toward the stairs. “Follow me.”
They climbed the stairs to the second floor, and he led her to a door at the end of the hallway, which opened to another set of steps. Climbing them, he made his way into the attic. His hand reached for the switch beside the door, and bright overhead lights illuminated the whole area. The unvarnished floorboards, weathered and gray with age, ran the length of the space. Stacks of cardboard boxes lined the far wall, each painstakingly labeled in bold black print. Things from each generation of Boudreaus who’d resided here before him, cherished mementos, sentimental items nobody could bring themselves to get rid of. He strode past them without stopping. Past the old trunk that had belonged to his father’s mother. Past the Christmas decorations packaged with care, stacked neatly to avoid damage.
Destiny’s footsteps had stopped at the top of the stairs, before tentatively moving forward. When he turned, he caught her running a gentle hand over a stack of quilts sitting atop the weathered seat of an old rocking chair, one that used to sit on the front porch. At her soft touch, almost a caress, his breath caught in the back of his throat. She was full of surprises, and he fought back the urge to discover each one. Not now, maybe not ever. He couldn’t afford to lose focus on his goal, the one driving him.
“Over here.”
Her gaze shifted to meet his at his words, and she shrugged, a chagrined expression on her face. “Sorry. I tend to get distracted in places like this. There’s so much to see and explore.” Brushing her hands against her thighs, she added, “Okay, I’m done. What’s that?” She pointed toward the huge stand behind him, draped with an old sheet.
Without a word, he whipped it off, twirling it like a magician revealing his latest trick. Set on an easel, the large whiteboard was double-sided like a classroom chalkboard, and he’d covered just about every inch of space on both sides. His research from the last few years, notes of everything he remembered from his childhood, filled columns. Each one was headed with a name, handwritten facts, figures, and any information he’d gleaned during his investigation.
Destiny moved to stand at his side, her eyes studying all the information, the rumors, and innuendos. He’d left nothing off.
“Thorough. What exactly am I looking at?”
“The story of my life.” He tossed out the answer like a live grenade and waited for the inevitable explosion.
“What a load of…” Destiny’s words broke off and her fist landing against his upper arm stung. She hadn’t pulled her punch, and he resisted the urge to rub at the offending area.
“Let me finish, princess. This,” he waved his hand toward the whiteboard, “is the story of everything I remember about my life before coming to live with Douglas and Ms. Patti.”
“Oh.” She gave him a chagrined half-smile, shrugging like that would make up for the fact she’d smashed her fist into his arm. “Sorry. It’s just a lot to take in; especially considering some of the names you’ve got written there.”
“I’ve been compiling this information for a long time. Everything you’re seeing is true. Names, dates, places. The big question is—which one of them hates me enough to want me dead?”
“You believe me about the hit? I thought maybe you were simply humoring me because I work for Shiloh and Ridge.”
Dane studied Destiny’s face, read her genuine concern. He’d expected skepticism or downright cynicism to his findings, but all he felt from her was an undertone of warmth and acceptance he’d hardly anticipated. He’d half expected her to take one look at his findings and walk straight back out the door.
“With everything I’ve discovered, I’m honestly surprised one of them hasn’t come after me sooner. The only saving grace I have is they didn’t know where I lived or my name until recently. Dane Boudreau is my legal name, but it isn’t the one I was born with. When I went into the foster care system, the only information they had for me was a letter and this.” Reaching beneath his shirt, he pulled out the thin gold chain with the small medallion hanging from it.
“May I see it?”
Pulling the chain over his head, he handed it to Destiny and saw her eyes widen when she recognized the symbol engraved on one side. Her fingertip traced the image, and he swore he felt her fingers touch it like she ran them along his skin. A shudder racked his body, and he pulled himself free of the image in his brain. He wasn’t surprised when her eyes widened as she flipped the medallion over, and she read the words.
“This is—are you sure?” The words were barely above a whisper, husky and tinged with an eerie sense of acceptance. “Dude, if this gets out, every news agency in the U.S. will be on your doorstep. Heck, probably most of the free world press. I mean, seriously, this is big. Bigger than big. Holy amazeballs, Dane.”
“It’s true. I hadn’t planned to do or say anything to anybody, not until I had enough documentation to bring to the authorities. Unfortunately, I think one of my searches must have triggered a failsafe or something, because about six months ago things on the web started disappearing. Records I’d downloaded vanished, like they’d never existed. Fortunately, I backed everything up onto a computer that isn’t connected to the internet, or whoever it is might have been able to hack in and get rid of everything.”
Destiny started pacing as he talked, her footsteps measured and precise. Eight steps in one direction, turn, eight steps back. He could practically hear the wheels turning inside her head, working out each step he’d taken to find and secure the facts he’d been able to compile.
“You’ve obviously pissed off somebody. Probably one of the people you’ve listed there,” she gestured toward the whiteboard. “Dane, you know these are dangerous people, right? Every single one of them has money and power. They won’t be happy to discover somebody who will upset their applecart. That’s what you’re planning, right?”
Dane watched Destiny clench the medallion in her closed fist, and gently peeled back her fingers, pulling the chain free. He stared at the gold, its shine worn with age. A memory of a lovely woman with smiling eyes wearing the necklace popped into his mind, remembered her pulling it over her head and placing it around his neck. The chain hung low on his childish frame, but he’d grinned like he’d been given the best prize in the world.
“Promise me you’ll take good care of this until I come home.” Her voice, warm and soothing as honey, teased at his senses. A wave of sorrow threatened, and he quashed it down.
“I promise, Mommy.”
“You are my little man. So brave and strong. Daddy and I will be home before you know it. Be good for Ginger.” She leaned forward and whispered, “She promised ice cream after supper, but don’t let her know I told you. It’s supposed to be a surprise.”
Wrapping his arms around her neck, he squeezed her close, felt the tears pricking behind his eyelids. He didn’t want her to go. Wanted to beg her to stay with him. But he didn’t, because her and Daddy had to go and do business. He wasn’t sure what business was, but he hated it. “I promise, Mommy.”
“Dane?”
Destiny’s voice yanked him from the memory, fading away like an ephemeral cloud. He hadn’t thought about that night for years. Time had dulled the knife-edge of pain, but not the rage that burned, vivid and all-consuming, within him.
“Sorry, I got lost in thought for a second.”
Destiny walked over to the easel and tapped it with her finger. “All this—do Douglas and Ms. Patti know?”
Ah, there was the question he’d been expecting, ever since he’d brought her into the attic. Because he knew she wasn’t going to like his answer.
“No. And you can’t tell them.”