On The Texas Border

“Yes, you have my word.”

“Good,” he said, and seemed to relax.

“Why did you fire my father?” she asked, holding her breath as she waited for the answer.

That sinister smile she was beginning to associate with him curved his blue lips. “You don’t think I’m stupid, do you, Abigail?”

“No, of course not.”

“You find Delores, then we’ll talk.”

Frustration ran through Abby. She was close—so close—but she should have known better. Simon Brewster wasn’t going to make this easy for her.

“What if I don’t find her?”

“You will.”

“You seem certain of that.”

“I know you, Abigail. You won’t give up until you find her.”

You don’t know me, old man, she had the urge to say, but she didn’t. She had to keep her emotions clear. “How can I be sure you’ll tell me the truth when I find her?”

“You have my word.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

Mr. Brewster started to laugh, but it turned into a cough. The nurse immediately adjusted the oxygen. In a moment he was better.

“You got fire, girl. Your father never had that.”

“Don’t criticize my father,” she snapped.

He ignored her words and asked, “Do we have a deal?”

“No, not until I have some proof that you won’t renege on your promise.”

Mr. Brewster watched her closely. “I’ll leave a sealed letter concerning the information you’re after with my attorney. When you return with my daughter, you can read the contents. Will that satisfy you?”

“Maybe,” she answered. “But I insist on seeing the letter and talking to your attorney.”

“No problem. Do we have a deal?”

He wouldn’t tell her a thing until he got what he wanted. It crossed her mind that he’d been planning this all along—but why her? Why had he chosen her to do this? It really didn’t matter. She was going to do it…for her father.

“Yes, we have a deal.”

“Good,” he said, and started to cough again.

Jonas took her elbow and pushed her out the door. He’d obviously decided that was enough for her, for him, for everybody.

“You…promised.” Brewster’s voice followed them.

“Are you serious?” Jonas asked roughly, once they were in the hall. “A daughter? My God, no one but you would believe that cock-and-bull story.”

“I have to find out about my father,” she said stubbornly.

“Your father was a good man. Why can’t you just leave it at that?”

Her eyes caught his in the dimness of the hallway. “I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors concerning my father.”

“What?” He shrugged. “That he embezzled money from Brewster?”

The words spoken so cavalierly filled her with anger. “My father never took from anybody. He always gave.”

“You brought it up, I didn’t,” he was quick to tell her. “Besides no one believes that trash, anyway.”

“But they’ve heard it, and it’s in their minds. I can’t stand the thought of my father having that kind of epitaph.” With that she headed for the elevator.

Jonas soon caught up with her. “Ms. Duncan, just let it be.”

“I can’t,” she said, and poked the Down button.

“Ms. Duncan, Simon Brewster lives by his own rules. It would be wise for you to go back to Dallas…far away from Brewster.”

“I can’t,” she said again, softly.

That ache in her voice threw Jonas. He was trying to remain detached from the situation, but the hurt in her eyes and the pain in her voice were making mincemeat out of that resolve.

They stepped onto the elevator in silence. Inside, Jonas tried again, “Ms. Duncan—”

“Please stop calling me Ms. Duncan,” she snapped. “My name is Abigail. Everyone calls me Abby. I would prefer it if you did the same.”

Jonas had a hard time hearing anything she was saying. All he could see were her full lips moving, her eyes sparkling and her breasts pressing firmly against her blouse. Mick was right. Jonas wanted her…right here, right now, in this elevator.

He was in big trouble.

The doors swished opened, and still Jonas didn’t move or speak. She watched him with a perplexed expression, probably wondering what was wrong with him.

Jonas reached out to catch the doors as they started to close. The action brought him to his senses. He was acting like a schoolboy, and he was anything but that. He’d had his share of women. He accepted them as they came into his life, enjoying the time he spent with them and then moving on to someone else. From the start of every relationship, he made it clear that there was no future with him. He had screwed up his life when he was fifteen years old, and he wouldn’t destroy anyone else’s.

He sensed in his gut that Abigail Duncan wasn’t a one-night stand or a casual affair. He avoided women like her—women who wanted commitment, family and babies. He had to admit he was attracted to her, but he could handle that without—

He suddenly realized she was waiting for an answer. Clearing his throat, he said, “We won’t be acquainted long enough for me to call you by your given name.”

Her eyes narrowed to green slits. “I don’t care. You’re not calling me Ms. Duncan in that tone of voice. You make it sound like I’m old enough to be your grandmother.”

Jonas walked out of the elevator, and Abby followed him. God, she was relentless. She was a woman who never gave up or gave in. He was beginning to see that.