Chaning Cheyenne Page 9

  Cheyenne didn't doubt it. That was what hurt the most. The ways in which her father managed to come through. If only his motives weren't so impure.

  It was always about power in the end.

  She suspected it came from his own father and grandfather, regular robber barons in the grand tradition of smashing unions and cheating workers of every possible penny.

  Mercy was not something easily obtained in the Stanley family, then or now.

  Could Cheyenne be the one to break the cycle?

  What was making her even think of such a thing?

  The answer came to her in a flash.

  That man lying in that bed, the one you barely know but whom you can't imagine not being with again, that's what makes you want to change things.

  Because he's the first man to give a hint that things could be different ... that maybe a man's affection and loyalty could come without some horrendous price.

  Frankie was dead, Mad Dog was heir to the Vipers. Before that a string of losers had crossed her path. Was it all a vain attempt to spite her father?

  Cheyenne smoothed her dress. Reed would like it.

  "You can do what you want with your money. I can't stop you."

  Rutherford narrowed his gaze. “No scathing criticism? No charges that I am trying to buy absolution for my sins?"

  "I don't want him to die,” she choked.

  "He won't,” said Rutherford.

  She wanted to believe him.

  "It's my fault,” she said. “He wouldn't be lying here if I had done what I was supposed to do."

  "Hindsight is always perfect,” he dismissed.

  "And what do you see? Looking back,” she asked.

  "If you want an apology, I don't have it in me."

  "I didn't say I wanted one,” she countered.

  "I did what I thought was best with you, I always did."

  "And you don't like the results, right?"

  "It's up for you to like yourself. You're an adult."

  She wanted him to like her, which was stupid because nothing pleased her father, not even himself probably.

  Cheyenne released a long sigh, making her decision. “I do want Reed to get the best care."

  Rutherford nodded. “He's a good man. He was sent to me by the man I admire most in this world. I have an obligation."

  She felt a stab of jealousy. Why did he still get to her after all these years? His priorities were entirely alien and had nothing to do with her.

  "I'm sure you do,” she said.

  He cleared his throat. Her guard went up instantly. He was about to put conditions on his generosity, nothing new.

  "Reed needs to have a ... quiet environment,” said her father. “I don't want him disturbed."

  "Yes...?"

  He frowned, as if annoyed to have to drop the bombshell himself. “It would be better if you moved on, Cheyenne."

  She stiffened. “Excuse me?"

  "You're not that attached, surely, and we don't want him ... confused."

  She hated when he paused like that, choosing words that would dig deep, slow burning hurt. “And I would confuse him, right? Plus I'm loud and I'm a bitch and, hell, I already nearly got him killed once."

  "There is no cause for negative emotion. I thought you would be happy to have your freedom."

  Cheyenne said nothing.

  "If it's a matter of money..."

  "You don't have to pay me to leave, Daddy,” she fumed. “I can find my way out."

  She brushed past him, clicking noisily on her heels. She hated herself for giving in. How could she argue, though? A man like Reed didn't need someone like her. She had only brought disaster to everything she had touched.

  "Do you have any message for him?” Rutherford asked.

  She didn't bother to turn around. “Nothing I would want you to hear."

  Cheyenne saved her tears for the elevator. Her father didn't deserve them. Neither did Reed. He was trying to get better. He didn't need her dragging him down.

  Pulling herself together as the elevator doors open, she considered her next move. For a split second she thought of going to Mad Dog and begging him to take her in.

  She shuddered at the thought.

  She didn't hate herself that much.

  Maybe dancing, she had done that before in a pinch.

  The thought of all those men ogling her, though, it was too much.

  Reed's spoiled me for my old life, she thought. All I can picture is him watching, disapproving.

  Not judging her, just wanting more for her.

  Wanting her for himself.

  He didn't really, though. That was just in her mind.

  It was just as well she had left. When he came to he would not have wanted anything to do with her. The job was over, he had had his fun.

  The prick. Just a using male like all the rest.

  Damn, she was so confused.

  Her father was right.

  She didn't need to be around Reed.

  Or anyone else of heroic stature.

  She needed to go slumming for a while.

  A bit of splendid wallowing like the rest of the billionaire offspring.

  She made a fateful decision.

  Turning on her heel she went back to her father.

  She would take his money after all.

  * * * *

  "Is she all right?” he croaked.

  The first words out of his mouth.

  "Is who all right?” asked the nurse who happened to be on shift when Reed finally came to.

  She was blonde and young, pretty by any standards.

  "Cheyenne,” he said, his mouth feeling like a desert. “Cheyenne Stanley."

  "She's fine,” said a deep voice.

  Reed blinked and tried to sit up.

  His head was killing him.

  "Please, don't try and move,” admonished the nurse.

  "Mr. Stanley,” said Reed, coughing.

  "Yes. It's me."

  "Cheyenne's okay, then?"

  "She was unharmed, yes.” Rutherford's tone was oddly flat, guarded. Almost contemptuous.

  Not of Reed, but of Cheyenne.

  "Where is she?"

  Rutherford's lips angled ironically. “I couldn't say."

  "What do you mean?” Reed wanted to know.

  For some reason he had expected her to be here.

  Was that too much to ask?

  There were things to sort out, all these memories flooding his head. The passion, the intensity. Was it all just the stress of the situation? Or was it something deeper?

  Cheyenne had given him the best sex of his life.

  Rutherford cleared his throat. “You don't know my daughter very well, I can't expect you to. She isn't the type to ... commit. She tends to cut bait rather quickly, to put it bluntly."

  Reed frowned. The man was insulting his own flesh and blood. “I can't say I agree completely, Sir. I may not know her all that well but she has fortitude. She may not stay long in one place, but she doesn't ever give up."

  Rutherford's smile was cool, vaguely condescending. “You have been through quite an ordeal, I imagine.

  Interpreted that means I don't know what I'm talking about where Cheyenne is concerned, Reed thought.

  "Reed, I am going to be very honest with you, man to man. My daughter is quite lovely, very seductive. A man could easily be ... misled."

  "No one misleads me, Sir. I am pretty careful."

  I never said I wanted to run away with her into the sunset, Reed thought with growing irritation.

  "I meant no offense to you,” Rutherford said quickly. “Clearly we don't know each other, a lot has happened. The important thing is that you are going to make a full recovery. I will see to that, sparing no expense."

  Reed kept his manners, just barely. “Thank you for that. I do want to see Cheyenne, though."

  Rutherford's lips thinned. Reed sensed he had crossed a line. “I doubt she would want to see you. The last I saw her was shortly after
your arrival at the hospital. She demanded money from me and told me not to bother trying to find her."

  Reed's heart sank. “Did she have any message for me?"

  "None. None at all. I specifically asked and she said there was nothing to be said."

  "I see,” said Reed.

  Rutherford's tone softened. “I am sorry, Cheyenne is ... difficult. I don't understand her myself. I have been hurt one time too many."

  Reed had heard enough. He was tired and wanted to be alone. “I thank you again for your concern. I would like to get some rest now if that's all right."

  "Certainly.” Rutherford inclined his head. “And I thank you for saving my daughter's life."

  The daughter you can't stand, Reed thought sardonically. “One more thing, Mr. Stanley."

  "Yes?"

  "The threat to her life from your rival. I trust it has been neutralized?"

  The very idea that he would let his daughter go with more killers out there waiting for her, it couldn't be true.

  "Naturally,” said Rutherford, reassuring him at once. “The assassins were traced back to their source. The guilty party is in prison and will not be released any time soon."

  Reed watched him walk out, purposeful, self-contained. There were similarities between father and daughter. Both were powerful personalities, free spirits, living contradictions.

  Why save a young woman you despise?

  And why did Cheyenne fight so hard to live and be free only to run away from the people she knew?

  She had lost Frankie, which was a blow. No matter how bad the man was, he had obviously been there for her. And Reed could hardly expect Cheyenne to give up her grief and hang by his bedside.

  He had kidnapped her and put her in a situation where she had little option but to be intimate.

  Reed didn't blame her for taking off.

  More than anything he was worried. What state of mind was she in? What risks would she take? Rutherford had given her money, no questions asked.

  How irresponsible was that. Why bother rescuing her only to send her back into danger? Reed winced at a fresh wave of pain in his head. His chest was hurting, too, like he had a hundred pound weight sitting on him.

  "Do you need medication for the pain?” asked the blonde nurse.

  "No,” said Reed, focusing. “I want to get up and walk."

  "The doctor has to authorize that,” she said.

  "Then find him,” said Reed, his voice low and edgy. “Or I will damn well walk on my own."

  "Yes, Sir,” said the nurse, sensing his determination.

  She didn't know the half of it. Reed would get well and leave this place ... and then he would find Cheyenne.

  What he would say to her he had no clue.

  As long as she was safe, that's all he cared about.

  Another wave of pain rushed over him, nearly knocking him out.

  Who was he kidding? He didn't just want to know how she was, he wanted to touch her, hear her sighs. He wanted to open her passions, feel the mysteries of her sex one more time.

  He had to know, was it a dream how well they had fit together, making exquisite love under the worst of circumstances?

  He had saved her life twice, but she had saved his life, too. He remembered that now, how she had taken over driving the van and gotten them help so he could get to the hospital before he bled to death.

  They were bonded. It had to mean something.

  He had to know ... had to be inside her, filling her deep sex, whispering in her ear, words of safety, words of lust.

  He had to have her in his bed, obeying, defying, writhing.

  No one else held a candle. None of the other women he had ever known.

  And he had known plenty. Exotic ones, rich ones, fabulous ones.

  "Cheyenne.” He whispered her name and like a wild filly he saw her in his mind, mane of black hair flowing, eyes green as emeralds. So very proud, so strong and yet surprisingly frail. Her heart had been broken many, many times, though she would never admit.

  Reed would not let it happen again. Not on his watch.

  Yes, he would get better and then he would find her.

  And once and for all he would figure out what was going on between them. If it killed them both. And given their track record, it very well might.

  Chapter Eight

  Reed signed himself out against doctor's orders.

  He never had been one for following orders. It had earned him a court martial, though privately his superiors admitted he had saved dozens of lives, including that of the commanding officer who put him on trial.

  Such were the vagaries of war. Especially secret wars.

  It had been just shy of three weeks since he came to. Day and night he had focused on healing himself, spending his spare time reading about the latest techniques for rehab. In addition to a collapsed lung he had suffered three broken ribs and severe internal bruising. Not to mention the blood loss.

  The medics had told him just how close to death he was. As for Cheyenne, she had come in drenched in his blood. He had attempted to find her from the hospital, using recent phone numbers. Everything was a dead end.

  A week ago he hired a private investigator, an old friend named Vic Martin. Vic could have found Jimmy Hoffa if he was still alive, he was that good.

  Apparently he had good news to share with Reed and he insisted on delivering it in person. Vic was waiting downstairs for him, but first Reed had an unexpected visitor.

  Rutherford Stanley.

  "I'm paying these docs a fortune,” he complained. “The least you could do is take their advice."

  He didn't seem overly upset.

  "I've never been one to take advice,” Reed said.

  Rutherford nodded. “Me neither. That's a sure way to end up average, following statistics."

  Reed couldn't resist drawing an analogy. “You're daughter might fit into that non-average category, too."

  Rutherford's eyes betrayed a hint of emotion.

  Stubborn bastard, he was just like her.

  "Here,” he said, pulling an envelope from his pocket. “This is for you."

  Reed thumbed the contents, hundred dollar bills, two inches thick. “It's too much,” he said.

  "Part of it is an advance."

  "Oh?"

  "On your next job,” said Rutherford. “I want you to find Cheyenne again."

  Reed handed the envelope back over. “I'm already on that. And I'm doing it for my own reasons."

  Rutherford refused to take it. “Don't be an ass,” he said. “The money will help you."

  Reed stuffed the envelope in the pocket of his leather jacket. “I don't have it in me to argue."

  "Good. That concludes our business, then."

  "There's one thing I need to know first,” Reed said.

  "What's that?"

  "Why do you hate your daughter so much?"

  Rutherford's brow furrowed. “If I were a younger man I would make you pay for your impertinence."

  "You don't hate her then?"

  "She is what she is, Reed. You've dealt with her."

  "You make her sound like a problem, some kind of blot on your record. She's a person, a very beautiful person."

  "Cheyenne knows how to manipulate men,” he dismissed. “She has her wiles. If only she would use them on someone decent, no offense."

  "None taken."

  Reed was beyond being insulted. He would take the abuse if it meant learning more about Cheyenne.

  "May I ask you a question, Reed?"

  "Yes?"

  "I take it for granted you have slept with my daughter, but have you made the mistake of developing feelings for her? I warn you, she has no loyalty."

  "I am going to stop you there,” said Reed. “Before you say something we both regret."

  Rutherford frowned. “You're a fool if you think you can love my daughter."

  "And you are a fool for not loving her. Good day, Mr. Stanley."

  The intensity of
his own words surprised Reed.

  Tossing Rutherford's envelope of money at his feet was a mere afterthought.

  If Rutherford had more to say on the matter, he kept it to himself.

  "You have to ride in a wheelchair,” called the blonde nurse as Reed made his way to the elevator.

  He gave a wink. “You should know me better than that by now."

  "It's a matter of liability,” a doctor backed her up, tall and gaunt in his white coat.

  Reed laughed. “My whole life is one huge risk. You're not going to start managing it now."

  "What's so funny?” Vic wanted to know as Reed hopped into his sports car in front of the hospital.

  "Life,” said Reed, settling himself into the leather seat. “Get this jalopy moving, will you? They'll be coming after me."

  "As usual,” the bearded Vic grumbled, shifting the car and hitting the accelerator. His large bicep bulged. You wouldn't think a man built like this had time to do anything other than hang out at the gym.

  "So where's Cheyenne?” Reed asked.

  Vic eyed him. “You in that much of a hurry?"

  "Just don't want to have to look at your ugly mug longer than I have to."

  Vic chuckled. “If I didn't know better I would say this particular dame has her hooks into you."

  "Screw you,” said Reed. “No woman will ever pull one over on me."

  "Calm down,” Vic said. “I believe you."

  They were silent awhile.

  "Then again,” Vic mused at last. “There are worse ways for a man to go."

  Reed shrugged. “She's a looker, yeah."

  "She's more than a looker,” Vic said. “Her picture oozes sex. So did you do her, or what?"

  "Or what,” Reed cut him off.

  "I get it,” said Vic. “You're holding your cards close to the vest. Sure sounds like love to me."

  "I would so kick your ass if you weren't driving."

  "Yeah, there's that,” agreed Vic. “Plus the fact that I could toss your ass from here to Italy, and trust me, you would be happy if I did."

  "Why's that?"

  "Why do you think,” said Vic knowingly.

  Cheyenne.

  "She's in Italy? What's she doing there? There are terrorists in Italy."