Because You Love Me Read online

  Bridget sucked in a sharp gasp of air. It had been on the tip of her tongue to say she was an only child. She knew she was treading on thin ice, tempting fate by talking to them, but Matt and Mark were so easy to be with, they made her forget what a fucking mess her life was at the present. “No. It’s just him and me.”

  Mark frowned. “No parents?”

  She shook her head because it was easier than making up another long story she’d likely screw up later. She hated lying to them. Her folks were alive and well and retired in Hoboken. She was also certain her mother hadn’t slept a wink since Bridget had gone into protective custody. Another pound of guilt she’d had to carry around. Her heart ached at the thought, and for one very foolish moment, she wanted to confess the truth to Matt and Mark, to tell them about Lyle, the judge, the murder. She had nearly convinced herself it was a good idea to unload all her burdens on their very capable, strapping shoulders and had even opened her mouth to speak the words when fate stepped in.

  “Hey, Bridget. I wondered where you were.”

  Rodney walked up to the table. He didn’t seem as annoyed to find her out and about today as he was yesterday. She suspected that was because he’d spent some time getting to know the James brothers. He’d confided last night this seemed like a safe place and the people were genuinely nice.

  Maybe she’d talk Rodney into telling Matt and Mark about their plight. They seemed like the kind of men who’d be willing to help.

  She smiled and held out her hands. “Looks like you found me. Matt and Mark treated me to the best omelet in, hmmm, I’m trying to remember.” She looked at Matt. “Did you say in the state or in the world?”

  “Universe,” Matt replied, adding to her joke.

  “Gotcha, the best omelet in the universe,” she finished. When Rodney looked at her empty plate with an expression of hunger and jealousy, she felt a pang of guilt for not saving him half. “I should have saved some for you.”

  He shrugged good-naturedly. “That’s okay. I’ll grab something later.”

  “Actually,” Todd said, coming out of the kitchen with a full plate, “I’ve kept this warm in the oven, hoping you’d come back soon.” He placed the dish at an empty spot at the table and gestured for Rodney to sit down. “This is on the house, to say thank you for helping us move the dinosaur stove out of the kitchen yesterday.”

  Rodney quickly claimed the chair, not remembering to speak until he’d shoveled in two enormous mouthfuls. “Thanks.”

  Matt laughed. “I can tell you two are related. Never seen two people go after a plate of food with the same level of enthusiasm.”

  Mark turned to Rodney. “We were just trying to convince your sister to come over to the James Ranch for riding lessons.”

  Rodney swallowed quickly. “Riding lessons? I don’t think we’ll have time for that. We’re leaving soon.”

  “Oh, darn,” Todd said. “I thought Steven said you’d be here through the week.”

  “That was the original plan,” Rodney said, “but now I’m not sure we’re going to be able to stay that long.”

  Bridget tried to ignore the sudden ache she felt at the idea of picking up and moving on yet again. Hanging out with the twins had been a nice change after months of monotony. It had been so long since she’d allowed herself to let herself feel pure, simple attraction. Lyle’s murder had skewed her ability to judge people and their motives and while she longed to accept Matt and Mark’s offer of friendship, fear held her back.

  “Well, you have to stay through tonight at least. I’m making a Valentine’s Day feast. We thought we’d follow that up with dessert and games,” Todd offered.

  Bridget glanced Rodney’s way, trying to determine exactly how fast he wanted to move. She couldn’t tell from his facial expression if he’d even found them somewhere new to hide.

  Rodney nodded. “That sounds great. We wouldn’t leave until tomorrow or the day after at the earliest.”

  Bridget released a slow breath. One more night. She looked at the twins. “Will you two be here?”

  Matt gave her a wickedly sexy grin. “You looking for a Valentine, Bridget? Because if so, I’m your man.”

  Mark rolled his eyes. “Did you ever consider that she might be interested in a real man, rather than a guy who acts as old as his shoe size? What size are your feet again? Eleven?”

  Matt scooted his chair closer and grasped her hand. “I doubt she’s looking for some boring stick in the mud. Be my Valentine, Bridget, and I’ll show you a good time.”

  Her face flushed as she envisioned how good that time could really be. She needed to get a grip. “You two are incorrigible. I’m not really in the market for a Valentine, so how about if I just promise to keep you in mind if that changes?”

  “You got a boyfriend?” Mark asked.

  She shook her head. “No, that’s not it.”

  Matt squeezed her hand. “Then I’ve still got a chance.”

  She laughed. “Maybe you didn’t hear my brother, Rodney. We’re leaving soon.”

  Mark shrugged as if unconcerned. “Maybe we can convince you to stay longer.”

  It would take very little for either man to convince her to stay. They looked at her with an unnerving hunger in their gazes. Her body was responding to it—hook, line and sinker.

  She considered herself passably pretty, though certainly not what anyone would call a raving beauty. She didn’t wear makeup and usually wore her long hair pulled back. In New York, she dressed in more conservative, professional attire at work. However, since arriving in Wyoming, she hadn’t been out of blue jeans.

  She’d had her fair share of dates and even lovers, but none of them had ever looked at her like Matt and Mark were looking at her in that moment. Worst of all was the fact she was attracted to both of them. What the hell was she supposed to do with that unnatural feeling? If they stuck around and she indulged in a little play, she’d have to choose. For the life of her, she couldn’t decide which James brother appealed to her more.

  Rodney saved her from having to respond. “You’re welcome to try to convince her, but it won’t work. We really do need to leave.”

  Todd began clearing away the dirty dishes. “I hope nothing bad has come up to disrupt your vacation.”

  Rodney shook his head. “No. Just some things we need to take care of at home.”

  All of them rose from the table. The James twins picked up their hats and put them back on. She had never realized how sexy the cowboy look truly was until she’d met these two men who wore it so damn well.

  “Well, I guess Matt and I should head back to the ranch. We’ll be back later for dinner. Save me a seat next to you, Bridget.”

  Matt wrapped his arms around her shoulders and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Save the other side for me.”

  She wasn’t sure if she’d truly heard the sexy innuendo in his tone or if it was wishful thinking on her part.

  Her power of speech temporarily left her, so she merely nodded.

  “See you later, Bridget,” Matt added, placing a friendly kiss on her cheek.

  Mark shook Rodney’s hand and the two of them left as Todd returned to the kitchen.

  Rodney glanced around the room to make sure they were alone. “Damn. Looks like you’ve made quite an impression on those guys. Might be better if we left now. They’re both eyeballing you like you’re the prime rib at a banquet.”

  She grinned at his analogy, but didn’t bother to deny the truth of it. She didn’t even want to deny it. It felt too good. Two of the hottest men she’d ever laid eyes on were attracted to her. She was going to hold on to this high for as long as it lasted. Given her current position, it didn’t appear she’d manage to maintain it for longer than a day.

  “Did you find somewhere for us to stay?” she asked.

  Rodney shook his head. “I found a couple possibilities—cabins in pretty secluded areas, but the issue is going to be money. I asked Steven if I could borrow his truck to do a little explor
ing. I’m just about to head out to take a look at them.”

  “Why bother if money is going to be an issue?” Bridget wanted to stay at the B&B. A city girl at heart, she took comfort in having more people around. Hiding out in quiet cabins unnerved her. She’d had no idea how loud nature was, how much squirrels scampering in leaves could sound like a villain with a gun sneaking up behind her.

  “You’re not going to like this, but I’m checking to see if we could hole up in one without going through the realtor. I got the impression from the rental website that neither of these places gets used much in the winter. Weather tends to be an issue.”

  She looked at Rodney with amazement. He was the most honest, law-abiding person she’d ever met. “You’re going to break in?”

  “Bridget. We’re low on money and running out of options. The trial starts in three weeks. We just have to hang in there that long. I’ll call my partner a couple days before we need to return, explain why we took off and ask him to secure us transportation back to the city.”

  “We came here to try to find the information Lyle had on the judge. We can’t exactly do that if we’re stuck on some mountainside, squatting in someone else’s house.”

  “Yeah, about that.” Rodney took Lyle’s letter from his pocket. “I was playing around with this earlier and I want to show you something.”

  They reclaimed their seats at the table. Bridget could hear Todd cleaning up in the kitchen, singing along loudly with the radio. She grinned at his off-key accompaniment to Lady Gaga’s “Born This Way”. She wasn’t sure where the rest of the guests had gone, but aside from his performance, the house was relatively quiet.

  Rodney pointed out the part of the code they’d already broken. “So if the first sentence is every sixth word, then we’re left with Sara and toga. Bridget, remember in college when Sara got totally trashed at the toga party. If you count six more words after toga, it takes us five words into the next sentence.”

  Bridget nodded. “We’ve done that. Silly girl swore to God and then on her mother’s grave she would give up alcohol. The next word after toga is God, but counting out six more words leaves us grave. God’s grave.”

  She’d repeated that phrase a million times in her head. They’d searched the only churchyard cemetery within the city limits the moment they set foot off the bus. They’d been so certain they would find a clue. Instead, they’d come up with nothing.

  “What if it’s not every sixth word? What if in the second sentence it’s every fifth?” Rodney asked.

  She glanced at the paper and re-counted. “Godmother’s? Oh my God. What if it is?”

  “Do you know if Lyle had a godmother? Who she was?”

  Bridget closed her eyes, forcing her memories of Lyle to the foreground. She should have been a better friend. She didn’t have a clue. She racked her brain trying to remember, but nothing came to her.

  “Fuck,” she finally admitted. “I have no idea.”

  Rodney only looked slightly disappointed. “So go five more words over and you get the word up. I have no idea what that means, but count five to the next sentence and I think Lyle gave us a clue about the godmother.”

  Bridget looked at the third sentence. “Ellen.”

  Rodney nodded. “Ring any bells?”

  She shook her head. “No, but I suppose we could ask around. What do you think the chances are his godmother has his last name—Turner?”

  “Slim to none,” Rodney replied. “And the rest of that sentence doesn’t seem to offer up a surname. I tried highlighting every fourth word, thinking maybe it was a countdown code, but that doesn’t seem to work either.”

  Bridget continued reading silently. And then Ellen told her that the key was “drink in moderation first.” “Every fourth word leaves us with the and in. Those are pointless.”

  “Yeah. I know. And then the last line is still hanging out there.”

  She reread the final sentence of the missive. Always loved that wealth of unhelpful, impractical information. Call me later, Lyle. “What if we just pull out words that look important?” she suggested.

  Rodney sighed. “We’ve tried that, remember? Too many words. Too many variables. Plus we still have that damn up hanging out there unexplained, which could mean my godmother Ellen theory is shot to hell.”

  “We’re closer now.”

  Rodney leaned back in his seat. “Yeah. I guess. But I have to tell you, if Lyle weren’t already dead, I’d probably kill him for leaving us such shitty clues.”

  Bridget laughed. “You’d have to get in line. Why he thought I could figure this out is beyond me. He must’ve tried to explain how to work sudoku puzzles to me a thousand times, but I never got it.”

  “We still have some time. There’s three weeks until the trial. We’ll just keep plugging along until then. At that point, we’re going back to New York—with or without the flash drive. I’m going to grab the keys to Steven’s truck and go check out the cabins.”

  “You know, if the cabins don’t work out, we could always just stay here. We have enough money to cover us for most of the three weeks if we’re careful. It feels safe here.”

  Rodney gave her a knowing grin. “You can’t kid a kidder, Bridge. Safety has nothing to do with it. There are two fucking gorgeous cowboys here, and you’re hot to get into their sexy-as-shit, too-tight jeans.”

  She narrowed her eyes. Apparently, she hadn’t been the only one checking out the James brothers’ Levis. “Yeah, well, just remember they’re my cowboys, hot stuff. You can look, but no touching.”

  “Believe me, those two don’t play for my team.”

  She laughed. It had become a pass-the-time game on the bus trip from Oklahoma to Saratoga for her and Rodney to decide whose sexual-orientation team their fellow travelers played for. “Maybe not, but their brother does.”

  Rodney closed his eyes and rubbed his temple. “Christ, kitten. We’re running for our lives here. We don’t have time to get laid.”

  She stuck out her lower lip in playful pout. “All I’m asking for is a few more days. If we really are looking for a woman named Ellen, we’d have a better chance finding her if we’re closer to town. Besides, imagine if their younger brother is as hot as them. You’ve gotta be feeling the effects of this forced abstinence as much as me.”

  “Here comes the persuasion again,” Rodney muttered. “Fine, Bridget. I’ll admit it. I’m horny as shit and tired of sharing a room with you. It’s not like I can take care of my own needs with you snoring across the bedroom.”

  “I don’t snore.”

  “But I’m not about to jeopardize your life or mine for a quick screw with a cowboy I’ll likely never see again after we leave here. We’re so close to end, Bridget. Let’s don’t fuck it up now.”

  He was one hundred and twenty percent right. Damn him. “And you say I’m the persuasive one. Fine. I’m focused again. Promise.”

  He reached out and patted her on the shoulder. The gesture was meant to comfort her. She wanted to shrug it off, rail at him, but she couldn’t. He understood her frustrations because he shared them. It wasn’t fair for her to blame him for something that was ultimately her fault. Would Lyle still be alive today if she hadn’t suggested he share the information he’d uncovered with her? If she hadn’t planted the seed that they break the news by splashing it all across the front page of the newspaper? If she’d insisted that they call the cops first?

  Rodney refolded Lyle’s letter and put it back in his pocket as he stood. “Why don’t you expand on your friendship with Todd? See if you can’t find a way to figure out who this Ellen might be.”

  She forced her concern aside at Rodney’s worried glance. She gave him a jaunty salute. “Aye aye, Captain.”

  He laughed, fooled by her feigned attempt at lightheartedness. “I won’t be gone long. Don’t get in to any trouble.”

  “I won’t.”

  She watched him leave but made no move to rise. She was suddenly feeling very tired.


  Three more weeks and the running would stop.

  Three more weeks and she could return to her normal life. That thought didn’t bring her as much comfort as it used to. She wasn’t the same woman who’d escaped New York in the middle of the night. That woman was driven, obsessed with climbing the ladder of success. That woman let her best friend sacrifice his life simply to provide her with information for a lousy newspaper article.

  That woman didn’t exist anymore. Her life had been snuffed out the instant the judge’s bullet pierced Lyle’s flesh.

  Three weeks.

  Then what?

  Chapter Three

  Bridget waved her hands madly, trying not to let her frustration with her charades partners show. She’d always been far too competitive for her own good, never quite mastering the idea of losing with grace. As Rodney, Todd and Stephen continued to yell out inane, stupid, wrong answers, she could see the James brothers grinning gleefully as the clock continued to tick.

  “Disco!” Todd yelled and Bridget rolled her eyes. Losing at charades was not going to make for a fun night.

  She looked at Rodney in desperation, but he only gave her a quick, sympathetic grin and shrugged, clueless to even venture a guess at her gestures. She couldn’t be mad at him for sucking at charades. Even though they were only posing at siblings, she couldn’t love him more even if he were her true brother. He’d saved her life countless times, while consoling her through the guilt and anguish associated with Lyle’s death. He got a bye. Her other two partners, however, did not.

  “Saturday Night Fever!” Stephen added. “John Travolta.”

  “Jesus,” she muttered.

  “No talking,” Matt chastised as Mark called, “Time.”

  “Tidal wave,” she said, gesturing that she clearly thought her actions had made that clear.

  “Tidal wave?” Todd asked. “How the hell was all this—” he starting waving his hands around, and she narrowed her eyes at his imitation, “—supposed to be a tidal wave?”

  “I guess I could sort of see it,” Stephen conceded. “Now that you say it.”