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Authors: Christie Ridgway
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brother, had refused to bankroll Farleyâs entrée into the Texas political scene. Jasonâs grandfather had never recovered from the disappointment and after his death, it had been up to Jason to avenge Farleyâs broken dreams by finding a way to topple Kingstonâs empire, which had been run by Ryan Fortune until his recent death.
Jason scraped the razor through the layer of shaving cream on his cheek. Though plastic surgery after an accident in his early twenties meant he no longer possessed the Jamison features, he didnât mind. His father and his brothers were weak men who didnât have the talent or ruthlessness to get what Jason had.
Two million dollars. A fake passport. Stolen credit cards. Everything a guy would need to get out of Texas and start a new life, knowing that heâd left a swathe of destruction in his wake. Heâd scared the crap out of Ryan Fortune during the last few months of his life, even as the man was dying of a brain tumor, by kidnapping his beloved Lily.
That was what the old fool got for loving anyone better than himself.
Jason had never made that mistake. It was why it hadnât been so hard to kill his two-timing bitch of a girlfriend. Melissa had started it, anyway, striking out at him with her fists and her words. When sheâd said he was going to end up as big a loser as his grandfather Farley, Jason had shut her up with his two hands around her skinny, trailer-trash throat. He was glad, damn glad, that she wasnât around to reap the benefits of his brilliance.
All the impediments to his future were out of the way now. He could ride off into the proverbial sunset with his saddlebags full of Fortune cash and have himself a hell of a good life.
As soon as he got rid of Emmett.
It wasnât part of his original plan, but then a brilliant man had to be flexible. And decisive.
Emmett annoyed him, so Emmett had to die. Jason wasnât leaving Texas until heâd taken care of that one last task.
Today is Monday.
You have lunch with Nancy in the main house at noon. Avoid Emmett. He practically kissed you into another coma two mornings ago.
You donât want Nancy to know how much youâre still struggling with your brain injury.
Linda glanced at her open notebook one last time and then shut its tagboard cover. With a deep breath, she exited her bedroom and hurried for the guest cottageâs front door. She heard the rhythmic phizz-wizz, phizz-wizz of the rowing machine mechanism coming from the workout room and was glad she could pinpoint Emmettâs exact location. She couldnât take another surprise from him and still keep her composure in front of Nancy. Nan, she corrected herself, using the abbreviation that Ricky had coined. The shortened name had stuck.
Linda wanted Nan to see her at her best and getting better.
The Armstrongsâ cook let her in the back door and then guided her through the kitchen to where Nancy was waiting for her in the small parlor. Before a wide window looking out into the garden, a tea cart was set with two places. Nan herself was waiting for Linda on a floral couch angled in a corner of the sunny room.
âThere you are!â The older woman beamed at Linda and rose to her feet to embrace her.
âAm I late?â Linda kissed her cheek and then sat against the cushions.
âNo, no. Iâm just anxious to hear how youâre settling in.â
âWonderful. Great. Perfect. The guest house is so comfortable and charming. So convenient and cozy.â Linda silenced herself before she babbled another wave of adjectives. Too many sounded insincere, she reminded herself. Worse, too many sounded as if she belonged back in rehab.
After all the Armstrongs had done for her and for Ricky, she couldnât fail in her bid to make herself a new life.
âAnd Emmett?â Nan asked. âHow are the two of you getting along?â
âEmmett?â At the sound of his name, a
Jason scraped the razor through the layer of shaving cream on his cheek. Though plastic surgery after an accident in his early twenties meant he no longer possessed the Jamison features, he didnât mind. His father and his brothers were weak men who didnât have the talent or ruthlessness to get what Jason had.
Two million dollars. A fake passport. Stolen credit cards. Everything a guy would need to get out of Texas and start a new life, knowing that heâd left a swathe of destruction in his wake. Heâd scared the crap out of Ryan Fortune during the last few months of his life, even as the man was dying of a brain tumor, by kidnapping his beloved Lily.
That was what the old fool got for loving anyone better than himself.
Jason had never made that mistake. It was why it hadnât been so hard to kill his two-timing bitch of a girlfriend. Melissa had started it, anyway, striking out at him with her fists and her words. When sheâd said he was going to end up as big a loser as his grandfather Farley, Jason had shut her up with his two hands around her skinny, trailer-trash throat. He was glad, damn glad, that she wasnât around to reap the benefits of his brilliance.
All the impediments to his future were out of the way now. He could ride off into the proverbial sunset with his saddlebags full of Fortune cash and have himself a hell of a good life.
As soon as he got rid of Emmett.
It wasnât part of his original plan, but then a brilliant man had to be flexible. And decisive.
Emmett annoyed him, so Emmett had to die. Jason wasnât leaving Texas until heâd taken care of that one last task.
Today is Monday.
You have lunch with Nancy in the main house at noon. Avoid Emmett. He practically kissed you into another coma two mornings ago.
You donât want Nancy to know how much youâre still struggling with your brain injury.
Linda glanced at her open notebook one last time and then shut its tagboard cover. With a deep breath, she exited her bedroom and hurried for the guest cottageâs front door. She heard the rhythmic phizz-wizz, phizz-wizz of the rowing machine mechanism coming from the workout room and was glad she could pinpoint Emmettâs exact location. She couldnât take another surprise from him and still keep her composure in front of Nancy. Nan, she corrected herself, using the abbreviation that Ricky had coined. The shortened name had stuck.
Linda wanted Nan to see her at her best and getting better.
The Armstrongsâ cook let her in the back door and then guided her through the kitchen to where Nancy was waiting for her in the small parlor. Before a wide window looking out into the garden, a tea cart was set with two places. Nan herself was waiting for Linda on a floral couch angled in a corner of the sunny room.
âThere you are!â The older woman beamed at Linda and rose to her feet to embrace her.
âAm I late?â Linda kissed her cheek and then sat against the cushions.
âNo, no. Iâm just anxious to hear how youâre settling in.â
âWonderful. Great. Perfect. The guest house is so comfortable and charming. So convenient and cozy.â Linda silenced herself before she babbled another wave of adjectives. Too many sounded insincere, she reminded herself. Worse, too many sounded as if she belonged back in rehab.
After all the Armstrongs had done for her and for Ricky, she couldnât fail in her bid to make herself a new life.
âAnd Emmett?â Nan asked. âHow are the two of you getting along?â
âEmmett?â At the sound of his name, a
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