porch after Tori had gone, feeling the burn of cold wind on his face. The familiar sounds of night on the ranch drifted to his ears—the creak of the turning windmill, the shifting and nickering of horses in the barn, and the bawl of a calf in the lower pasture. Smoke, curling from the tall metal chimney on the bunkhouse, blended with the earthy smells of sage and manure.
Closing his eyes, Will filled his senses with memories of the only home he’d ever known. If things went badly at the trial and he ended up in prison, he would need these memories to keep him strong. But, Lord, how could he stand it, being cut off from everything and everyone he’d ever loved?
Tori was right—he needed to go on believing in his own innocence and the fairness of the American justice system. But the ugly knot in the pit of his stomach wouldn’t go away. With so many twisted facts working against him, how could he expect to walk out of court a free man?
Tonight he’d pretty much given Tori permission to move her boyfriend into his house, feed him at their table, and sleep with him in their bed. Speaking the words had damn near killed him, but if that was the price of having Tori stay here with Erin, so be it. This was about his daughter’s well-being, not his personal feelings. But the personal feelings were there, and they were too powerful to be denied.
Drew.
The name left a nasty taste in Will’s mouth. He didn’t even know the man, but the thought of Tori in Drew’s arms was enough to rouse Will to a near-murderous rage. Even after eight years apart, he still tended to think of her as his woman—and that one wild encounter, the night of the storm, was seared like a brand into his memory. He’d been a fool to let her go—and damn it, he wanted her back.
If he made it through the trial with his freedom, by heaven, he was going to fight for her. Drew was going to have some serious competition.
But the reality was, if he was convicted and sentenced, all bets would be off. He couldn’t ask Tori to wait for him, or to tie herself to the man he’d be after years behind bars.
“Are you all right, Daddy?” Erin had come out onto the porch to stand beside him.
“Fine, honey. Just getting some air. I thought you were watching the game.”
“It’s just a game. I don’t care that much about it.”
“What do you care about these days?”
“Important stuff, like you and Mom and the trial. I wish I knew what was going to happen.”
“So do I.” Will rested a hand on her shoulder. “You’re a smart girl. I know better than to sugarcoat the situation for you. I’m just as scared as you are. But I can promise you two things. Whatever happens, you’ll be all right, and I’ll still love you.”
Erin didn’t answer. When he heard a little breathy sound, Will realized she was crying.
“It’s all right.” He pulled her against his side, thinking how fast she was growing up. If he went to prison, she could be a woman by the time he got out.
“I don’t want you to go away, Daddy!” She wrapped her arms around his waist and held on tight.
“It’s all right to cry, honey.” He stroked her hair. “Just remember, we Tylers are a tough family. One way or another, we’ll get through this.”
“But if you go, what’ll we do without you? Everybody counts on you to be the boss—Beau, Sky, Jasper, even Mom.”
“Now I’d argue with that. You just mentioned the four most contrary, mule-headed people I know!” Easing her away from him, he used a gentle finger to lift her chin. Her tear-streaked face almost broke his heart. “Now, what do you say we go inside, give you a minute to wash up, then sit down and watch the rest of the game?”
She gave him her best imitation of a smile. “Sure. And let’s have the best Thanksgiving ever tomorrow.”
“That’s my girl.” Aching with pride, Will followed his daughter into the house.
* * *
Stella scanned the dark parking lot before locking the back door of the Blue Coyote. Out of habit her hand reached for the 9 mm Glock she kept in her oversized purse. It was after eleven, she was alone, and a lady couldn’t be too careful.
Her Buick was parked a dozen yards away, in a well-lit spot.