Atonement

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)

EXCERPT (#litres_trial_promo)

PROLOGUE

SO THIS IS how it ends.

It was his first thought when he opened his eyes and found himself tied to the steering wheel of a speeding car, reeking of alcohol—worse, dead drunk with it—and about to die.

Through the windshield he saw that he was barreling along a rutted desert road lined with cacti bathed in moonlight. Sobered by the realization, he slammed his foot down on the brake. Nothing. Panic washed over him like an ice shower.

He stomped on the accelerator only to find it tied down, as well. With his hands roped to the steering wheel, he couldn’t turn the car off the dirt track he was now bumping along. Nor could he grab the emergency brake—let alone open the door and bail out.

Bailing was the one thing he’d excelled at in life. That, however, was no more than a fleeting thought as he hit a jarring rut in the road, the speedometer wavering just this side of eighty.

Ethan thought of all the mistakes he’d made, the people he shouldn’t have double-crossed and the few he’d actually cared about. He didn’t have long to mourn his misspent youth, though. Ahead the dirt road made a ninety-degree turn to the left to avoid a deep rocky ravine. It was a turn he realized he wouldn’t be making.

That was when the hair rose on the back of his neck as he realized he wasn’t alone. He knew the smell of death, would have noticed it sooner had it not been for the reek of his own fear the moment he’d opened his eyes and seen what was happening.

As the car hit another rut in the road, the body in the backseat rose with it. He saw the man’s face and let out a shocked curse of regret and pain. Buck Morgan. The gangly wrangler hadn’t known what he was getting into. Buck’s body dropped with a sickening thud as the car came down hard.

Ethan felt something give. The ropes that bound his wrists suddenly felt looser. He freed one hand, but still couldn’t reach the emergency brake or the gearshift. He remembered the small knife he always kept in his right front pocket. Even if they hadn’t taken it, what were the chances he could get it out of his pocket before...

It was there. In an instant, it was in his hand. He thumbed the blade open and frantically sawed at the rope around the steering wheel as car roared toward the cliff.

The wheels bounced out of the road ruts and wiped out several large cacti before the dark chasm opened up before him. A scream tore up out of his throat as the knife ripped through the last of the rope. He grabbed for the door handle.

Seconds later the car left the road and soared out through the moonlit night. He watched in a kind of sick awe as the vehicle seemed to hang suspended in midair over the abyss. A bubble of laughter buoyed up, but not for long. He was a fool if he thought he could cheat death the way he had cheated everyone in his life.

CHAPTER ONE

FROM THE MIDDLE of the corral, Dillon Lawson tugged gently on the halter rope, urging the filly in a circle. She was a beauty and he couldn’t help feeling a sense of pride in her. The filly was smart, too. He’d known that the moment he’d looked into her eyes after she was born.

He’d named her Bright Beauty, struck dumb by the miracle of birth and the courage he’d seen in the foal as she’d stumbled to her feet for the first time.

Now as she trotted the tight circle around him, he could feel her gaze on him. The breeze lifted her red mane and she seemed to prance as if wanting to please him.

His heart swelled. His father wouldn’t have approved of the way he’d gentled her. Burt Lawson “broke” his horses, the same way he’d tried to break his sons. The thought brought with it fresh pain. For whatever reason, their father had always been meaner to Ethan. It was why Dillon had spent years trying to protect his brother—only to fail him in the end.

Not even this beautiful Montana spring day or the filly he’d nurtured since birth could keep his mind off his brother—and the upcoming one-year anniversary of Ethan’s death. Dillon wasn’t sure what was worse, the guilt that he’d let his brother down or the grief of having lost the last member of his family.

“Ethan!”

With his mind on his brother, Dillon thought he’d only imagined the voice. He looked over, surprised to see a woman he didn’t recognize at the corral fence. He lived so far out of town he seldom had strangers come in off the highway. Nor had he heard anyone drive up. He did a quick glance to the yard. No vehicle. Where had she come from?

His gaze returned to the woman. She’d climbed up the corral fence and now clung to the top rail. A mass of curly dark hair floated around a face dominated by huge blue eyes. That was all he was able to take in before she spoke again.

“Ethan.” She said the name like a curse. He’d thought he must have heard her wrong the first time she’d said his brother’s name. This time he heard anger in that one painful word. Anger and disappointment.

A chill ran the length of his spine.

She thought he was his brother.

That realization came like a kick to his gut. He slowed the filly to a stop and pushed back his Western straw hat. A warm sun slipped toward the west, making the breeze that blew down from the Crazy Mountains suddenly feel cold. The snow-fed breeze was a reminder that this was Montana in the spring and, like life, it could change at a moment’s notice.

Dropping the halter rope, he took off his hat and, stepping toward her, tried to clear his throat. A lump had lodged there. If this woman had mistaken him for Ethan, then she must not know about his death.

As he drew closer, the woman’s eyes narrowed. Her anger confused him. But then again, who knew what his brother had been up to before he died? Ethan had always attracted trouble like a magnet to metal, and Dillon had known little about his brother’s life the past few years. That was the way Ethan had wanted it.

He was within a few feet of her when he saw her eyes fill with tears, then all the color suddenly bled from her face. She teetered on the corral railing for a moment before starting to slump backward in a faint.

Dillon took two long strides, bounded over the corral fence and managed to catch her before she hit the ground. Holding her in his arms, he looked down at her and felt his eyes widen.

The woman was pregnant. Very pregnant.

Her thick lashes fluttered. Those big blue eyes opened and zeroed in on him.

The roundhouse slap she gave him was hard and did more than surprise him.

“You bastard.”

“You’ve made a mistake,” Dillon said.

“The mistake was ever falling for you.”

He shook his head sadly. “I’m not who you think I am.”

“You’re telling me? Put me down.”

Dillon did as she’d ordered and watched her struggle to get her feet under herself. Seeing him had been a shock for her, that much was clear. And yet she’d come here looking for him, as if...

He frowned as he tried to make sense of this. Ethan had been dead a year tomorrow. Why would she think he was Ethan? Not to mention... He stared at her swollen belly. The woman looked as if she might deliver that baby at any moment.

“You knew my brother?” he asked suspiciously.

She had dropped her large shoulder bag. She now bent to pick it up from the dirt before turning to glare at him. “I just want my money,” she said as she slung the bag over her right shoulder.

“Your money? Are you talking about the insurance money?” The check had come only a few days ago. Apparently his brother had taken out a half-million-dollar policy on himself and made Dillon the beneficiary. Ethan had always been full of surprises. This woman was apparently another one.

“Insurance? Is that what you call it? Just give me what’s mine and I’m out of your hair for good,” she said, and glanced toward the mountains as if she couldn’t bear looking at him any longer.

Sweetgrass County was rimmed with snowcapped mountain peaks, making some people think it was paradise. Dillon was one of those people. The moment he’d seen the Crazy Mountains, he’d known this was where he wanted to settle—rather than the logging town in western Montana where they’d grown up. His brother, Ethan, had hightailed it the moment he turned eighteen and apparently had never looked back.