Legally Binding Read online

  “Don’t play dumb with me.”

  “Dumb? You’re the one who’s dumb. Coming around me. I ought to grab that shotgun over the bar and put some buckshot in you right now for killing my old man. No one would blame me.”

  “Stay away from the Four Aces. Stay away from my daddy and Lindsey. I’m warning you.”

  “Well, thanks for the warning, cousin. I guess that’s more than you gave my old man.”

  “Go to hell, Kenny.”

  “You planning to send me there like you did my daddy?”

  “I didn’t kill Jeb. But so help me God, if you do anything to hurt my daddy or Lindsey or the Four Aces again, I will kill you. And I won’t need a knife. I’ll do it with my bare hands.”

  Kenny turned to the people around him. “He threatened me. You heard that, didn’t you? He said he was going to kill me.”

  Lindsey closed her eyes and prayed the scene wouldn’t come back to haunt them.

  Chapter Twelve

  Shifting in his seat behind the defendant’s table in Mustang Valley Superior Court, Bart watched people file into the courtroom and take seats in the galley behind him. People who by now probably had heard all about his appearance at Hit ’Em Again last night.

  He’d been damn stupid. Stupid to confront Kenny and stupider still to threaten to kill him in front of all those people. He should have listened to Lindsey. He should have held his temper.

  As if that had been possible.

  When he’d heard Kenny was at the ranch visiting Beatrice the day his dad disappeared and the helicopter was sabotaged, he’d lost all sense of reason. Kenny had tried to take from him everything he cared about, everyone he cared about.

  And hell, he would kill his cousin and gladly do the time if it meant keeping his dad and Lindsey safe.

  Lindsey.

  She leaned forward in the chair next to him studying a legal document. Her hair draped over her shoulder like a silken veil.

  He wasn’t sure when she had worked her way under his skin. But he couldn’t deny that she had. She had the refinement of a true lady, yet the tenacity of a coon dog. And the way she put herself on the line for him, for what she believed in, for all that was right in the world, truly humbled him.

  He’d never killed more than a couple of coyotes in all his years, but he wouldn’t hesitate to choke the life out of Kenny with his bare hands if that’s what it took to protect her and his daddy.

  “The Mustang Valley Superior Court is now in session,” a bailiff barked out. “The Honorable Judge Enrique Valenzuela presiding. All rise.”

  Bart glanced back at the gallery. The seats were filled with concerned citizens, retirees with some hours to fill and reporters, not just from Mustang Valley but Dallas/Fort Worth, as well. The owner of the Mustang Gazette, crusty old Beau Jennings, peered over his glasses from the back of the room. And beside her boss stood Lindsey’s friend, Cara Hamilton. Bart gave Cara a brief nod before turning his attention back to the front of the courtroom.

  The distinguished-looking judge swept into the room in black robes and perched on the mahogany bench in front of the American flag and the Lone Star flag of Texas.

  Bart stifled a smile. He’d gone to grade school with Enrique Valenzuela, or Rico as he was called in those days. He’d been a smart-mouthed little whelp back then. Who knew he’d grow up to be the youngest and most respected judge in the county. And one of the toughest.

  Rico scanned the room through tiny rimless glasses. “We have two arraignments this morning, as I understand it.”

  The bailiff glanced at the docket. “Yes, Judge.”

  “Then let’s have the first case.”

  The bailiff announced the name of a cowboy Bart had seen many times at Hit ’Em Again and the charge levied against him. Drunk driving. The cowboy pleaded not guilty. That bit of business dispensed, Rico looked at Bart point-blank and nodded to the bailiff.

  Lindsey’s hand found his under the table. Her soft fingers wrapped around his and squeezed.

  The bailiff seemed to straighten, suddenly formal. “The court calls Bartholomew J. Rawlins.”

  Releasing his hand, Lindsey rose. Bart pushed to his feet beside her.

  The bailiff continued. “In the name and by authority of the State of Texas, the grand jury of Mustang County, State of Texas do present that Bartholomew J. Rawlins in said county and state did commit a criminal homicide of the first degree against the peace and dignity of the State.”

  Bart had thought he understood the charge he was facing. But hearing it read aloud in such a formal manner shook him to the soles of his Tony Lamas.

  The judge focused on Bart. “How do you plead, Bart? Are you guilty or not guilty?”

  Bart swallowed into a dry throat. “Not guilty, Your Honor.”

  Rico nodded. “And you’re out on bail, as I understand it.”

  “Your Honor?” a voice said from the other side of the courtroom.

  Bart snapped around to look in the direction of the voice. He hadn’t noticed the man sitting at the other table until now. But he knew him. Fifty if he was a day, yet bursting with the energy of a squirrely colt, Marshall Kramer had peppered the county with advertisements while running for the post of District Attorney. Hell, Bart had even voted for the guy.

  “Yes, Marshall?” Judge Rico said.

  Marshall adjusted his three-piece suit. Where one of Marshall’s three assistants had handled the drunk driving case, the charge of murder clearly counted for enough to justify Marshall taking the case himself. “I have some concerns about the defendant’s bail.”

  Next to Bart, Lindsey stiffened. She kept her eyes focused on the judge.

  “And what would those concerns be?” Rico asked.

  Marshall raised the Mustang Gazette with a flourish. The headline blared for all to see—Murder Defendant Makes Threat. “The defendant was overheard threatening one of the witnesses against him last night.”

  Judge Rico nodded as if he’d already heard the story. With the speed of gossip around Mustang Valley, he probably had. Many times.

  Bart inwardly cringed.

  “And?” the judge prompted.

  “And we would like his bail revoked.”

  His words cut into Bart like a cold blade.

  “Your Honor,” Lindsey said in a controlled voice that belied the tension Bart could feel emanating from her. “May I address the court?”

  “Go ahead, Ms. Wellington.”

  “My client was severely provoked to say what he did. If I could show you the mitigating circumstances, I’m sure you’d agree. So I’d like to request we delay this decision pending a hearing.”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary, Judge.” Marshall looked around the room, like he wanted to pace but couldn’t find the acreage. “The defendant said he was going to kill a man. The son of the man he’s accused of murdering, no less. I have a dozen witnesses. He’s a danger to public safety, and we need to get him off the streets as soon as possible.”

  Behind him in the gallery, Bart could hear reporters’ pens scratching down every word. The blade of impending disaster sunk a little deeper.

  “Your Honor,” Lindsey said. “Bart is a lifelong resident of Mustang Valley. He’s never been charged with anything until now. To assume he’s a danger to public safety without a hearing—”

  “Point taken, Ms. Wellington. We’ll set a hearing date for early next week. That should give both sides a few days to interview the witnesses.” He looked down at Bart, his black eyes deadly serious. “And Bart? Use that time to get your affairs in order. If I find that you have indeed been threatening witnesses, you’ll find yourself awaiting trial behind bars.”

  The blade filleted him from breast to belly. He had no doubt what the judge would find. And it was going to be awfully tough to protect Lindsey and his daddy while he was sitting in a jail cell.

  LINDSEY SET DOWN her fork for the fifteenth time and watched the shadows in Bart’s eyes. By the time they got back to the ranch, eve
ning was closing in on the rolling hills. After she’d helped Bart feed the horses, they’d sequestered themselves in the kitchen to eat and discuss the upcoming hearing. So far they’d done little of either.

  She looked down at the macaroni and cheese she’d made, congealing on her plate. She didn’t know what she’d been thinking. The simple meal had smoothed over problems when she was a child, but it would take more than comfort food to fix things now. She pushed her plate away nearly untouched and returned her attention to Bart.

  He was looking straight at her.

  Her stomach gave a little jolt.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  She glanced at the table, noticing his plate was untouched, as well. “That I should have made something different to eat.”

  “It’s fine. You could have whipped up a gourmet meal and I wouldn’t have been able to choke it down. Not after today.”

  The jolt she’d felt in her stomach turned into a cold lump. Not after today. Today, when a hearing was the best she could come up with to deflect the prosecution’s request to revoke bail. A hearing where a parade of witnesses from Hit ’Em Again would get up on the stand and testify that Bart had threatened to kill his cousin.

  “Now what are you thinking?” Bart asked again.

  She looked into his eyes and forced a confident smile. “I was just thinking of witnesses I could put on the stand at the hearing.”

  “And coming up empty?”

  She opened her mouth to protest, but the words died on her lips. He wouldn’t buy any slick answers she gave anyway. “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re the last person who should apologize. If I’d listened to you instead of my hot head, I wouldn’t be in this fix.” His green eyes were dark, haunted. His rough features were twisted with regret.

  She drew in a deep breath. “It’s past, done. Now we have to move on, figure out what we can do from here.”

  “I’ll hire a bodyguard for you and beef up security for Daddy. The two of you will be safe. I’ll make sure of it, whether I’m here or in jail awaiting trial.”

  “I don’t need a bodyguard because you’re not going to jail.”

  He raised his brows. “How do you figure that? I did just what Marshall said I did. I threatened to kill Kenny.”

  “We’ll show that you did it out of fear for your life, your father’s life and my life. That you only did it to make Kenny back off.”

  “And how do we show that?”

  “I’ll call Gary. I’ll call Brandy Carmichael. Both can tell the court a few things about Kenny’s recent conduct.”

  “And mine. Gary saw how angry I was when I set out to Hit ’Em Again. Brandy saw me throw a punch at Kenny.”

  He was right. Each of them could testify to a piece of what Kenny had done to Bart, but they could also give damaging testimony. And she had no doubt Marshall would bring out the other side at the hearing. “What about me? I’ve been part of everything. I’ve seen what Kenny has done. I know you were just trying to protect us.”

  “You can be a witness and my attorney at the same time?”

  “Well, no. I’d have to step down as your attorney.”

  “Then we can’t do that, either.”

  “We can find another attorney, Bart. Someone with a lot more experience.”

  “No. Besides, if you stepped down as my attorney you could also testify to how angry I was that night. And that I threatened to kill Kenny. And coming from you, that’s got to carry extra weight with the judge.”

  He was right about that, too. She blew out a frustrated breath and dropped her chin to her chest. Her hair swung over her shoulders and draped around her face. “I’ll think of something. There has to be something.”

  He leaned forward. Reaching across the corner of the table, he smoothed her hair back from her cheek and tilted her chin up. His touch was so tender, shivers stole down her spine. “There isn’t any way around the truth, Lindsey. They’re going to revoke my bail. I’m going back to jail.” He paused, looking into her eyes with such longing she thought her own heart would break. “I just can’t help wishing…” He trailed off, his voice hoarse.

  “What? What do you wish?”

  He withdrew his hand and rested it on the corner of the table, as if gripping the solid surface for support. “It doesn’t matter.”

  She laid her hand on his. His fingers were rough, the skin thick with calluses. But she could feel a slight tremor run through him at her touch. “It matters. It matters to me.”

  He raised his eyes to hers. He watched her for a long time, and when he finally spoke, it was in a whisper. “I wish I could look at you across a crowded dance hall and know that you were saving every dance for me.”

  The tremor traveled up her arm and settled in her chest. “What else do you wish?”

  “I wish we could ride bareback together under a moonlit sky.”

  Her chest tightened. She struggled to breathe. “And?”

  “I wish I could show you just how deeply and thoroughly a man can love a woman.”

  She leaned toward him, wanting the corner of the table between them to disappear, wanting his arms around her, wanting to feel the solidness of his chest pressed against her breasts. She stood and stepped around the table.

  He rose beside her. His hands hung at his sides, his fingers flexing and straightening, as if he wanted to touch her but couldn’t. “And most of all, I wish we had a future stretching in front of us. A future a thousand miles long and a hundred years deep.”

  “We have tonight.”

  He sucked in a breath. “That’s not enough.”

  “It’s enough for me. Right now it’s all I could ever ask for.” She reached out and laid her hands on his chest. She could feel the steady beat of his heart under the crisp white cotton. A heart so strong. A heart so tender. She slid her hands upward until she could clasp them around his neck. Until her own heart pressed against his. Looking deep into his tortured green eyes, she pulled him down to her.

  He let her guide him, as if he couldn’t mount a fight. But when he claimed her lips, she could tell he wanted this as much as she did.

  His lips caressed hers, warm and tender. But there was an urgency underlying the kiss. A desperation. An overwhelming need. A need for her.

  And the need within her answered.

  He slipped his tongue into her mouth and deepened the kiss.

  Warmth rushed through her body, making her light-headed, making her knees weak. She sagged against him.

  He pulled her into his strong arms. Breaking the kiss, he narrowed his eyes with unspoken questions.

  “Make love with me, Bart. Please,” she whispered.

  He scooped her into his arms and held her tight against his chest. Boots thunking on wood, he climbed the stairs and carried her to his bedroom.

  He didn’t switch on the light, but moved into the darkness and set her gently on her feet near the bed. He slid open a drawer in the nightstand and rummaged inside. Producing a book of matches, he struck one and set the flame to the wick of a candle next to the bed.

  Light flickered over his face and shone in his blond hair.

  She swallowed hard and forced her voice to function. “That’s nice.”

  “I wish I had more. A wall of candles. Music. Flowers. Your first time should be special. Romantic.”

  “All I need is you. You make it special. Romantic.”

  He looked away, as if he didn’t quite believe her.

  She reached up. Grasping the brim of his hat, she lifted it off his head and set in on her own. It settled low on her forehead, nearly covering her eyes.

  A small smile curved his lips.

  She tilted her head back to peer up at him under the huge hat. “Sexy, huh?”

  “You make anything look sexy.” He grasped the hat’s crown and lifted it off her head. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed it on a chair. Heat in his eyes, he gathered her against him and lowered his mouth to hers once again.

  His
lips and tongue nipped and played over hers. Once her mouth had been thoroughly kissed, he moved his lips over her neck to her collarbone.

  Heat spiraled through her and centered deep within her body. She wanted to touch him, for him to touch her. She wanted to be closer.

  As if reading her mind, he slipped his hands under her suit jacket, under her blouse, until his work-roughened skin scraped along her sides.

  She wanted more. She wanted him to touch all of her, see all of her, kiss all of her. She arched her back, pressing against him, savoring the feel of his hands.

  He moved his fingers over her ribs. When he reached her bra, he slipped his fingers underneath, pushing it up and out of the way. His hands covered her breasts, cupping, holding.

  She sucked in a breath.

  His fingers teased her nipples. His tongue and lips took her, devoured her. Finally he pulled his hands from her breasts and found the buttons of her jacket. The jacket hit the floor, followed by her blouse and bra until she stood before him naked from the waist up.

  He stood an arm’s length from her and drew in a shuddering breath. “Lord, you’re beautiful.”

  Shivers pebbled her skin and raised her nipples to tight nubs. With him looking at her this way, she felt beautiful. She felt loved. She felt powerful. And she wanted more.

  She held out her arms, but he didn’t step into them. Instead, he peeled off his own shirt.

  Candlelight flickered over his broad, smooth chest. Shadows hugged the ridges of hard muscle. She felt she’d swoon at the sight.

  Before she had a chance, he was with her, his warm skin touching hers, his arms enveloping her. His lips descended on hers, teasing, claiming. Her nipples rubbed against his chest. His fingers stroked over her stomach and back, finally finding the zipper of her skirt. He pulled it down and pushed the skirt and slip over her hips. They puddled on the floor at her feet. But instead of removing her panty hose, too, he moved his hands over her, caressing her backside, the rough skin of his hands scraping nylon. He worked his hand lower, his fingers brushing between her legs.

  A shudder rippled through her. His fingers moved deeper. His touch grew more intimate, tracing her tender folds, circling the tight bundle of nerves, teasing until she couldn’t take any more.