Page 65 of Point of Mercy

“I’ve heard about you and the Tremont girl.”

“What have you heard?” Turner demanded, the noose tightening and his rage turning black.

“Just that she left you. With your boy. Well, I know the cost of lawyers and I figure if you’re planning a lawsuit—for custody, you could use some quick cash. And if you do end up with the kid, you’ll have medical bills—more bills than you can imagine—”

Turner was on his feet in an instant. He kicked back his chair and grabbed Fitzpatrick by his fancy silk tie. It was his turn to pull the rope and he’d strangle the old man if he had to. “Where’d you hear all this—”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Like hell it doesn’t! Now, if you don’t want to tangle with me any further, you’d better spill it, Fitzpatrick.”

Beads of sweat dotted Thomas’s brow and trickled down his temples. “You can’t—”

“Tell me!”

“You have no right—”

Turner’s cold smile moved from one side of his face to the other. “You’re on my property, now, Fitzpatrick. Leastwise it’s still mine until I sign your damned papers. So, while you’re here, you’re going to play by my rules. Who told you?”To add emphasis to his question, he jerked on the tie. Thomas came forward, falling onto the scarred table, sending documents scattering to the floor.

“Ellen Little,” he finally said. “Ellen Tremont Little.”

Deceit seemed to run in the family. Turner dropped the tie and Fitzpatrick fell back into his chair. “Heather’s mother,” he snarled. So Heather had run to Mama and told her everything and Ellen had seen fit to give Thomas the information he wanted. Turner’s guts twisted into hard little knots and he could barely see beyond his fury.

Recovering somewhat, Thomas offered Turner a grin as icy as his own. “Ellen works for me now. Seems to think she owes me something for giving her a pathetic little job.”

“You bastard!” Turner lunged for the man, but Fitzpatrick was out of his chair in an instant. He moved as quick as a sidewinder to the back door.

“Think about the offer. Believe me, it’s the best one you’re gonna get.” He was gone as quickly as he’d come, and Turner looked at the scattered papers on the floor. Unfortunately some of what Fitzpatrick had said made sense. Heather had plenty of money from her divorce from Leonetti and she would use every dime she had to keep her child—his child—their child. His lungs felt tight and he could barely breathe. There was the chance that Adam would need more extremely expensive medical care—Turner’s insurance company wouldn’t touch a child already diagnosed with leukemia.

All he had was this ranch, and Fitzpatrick was offering him a fortune for it.

Bile rising in his throat, he grabbed up all the papers and without thinking too hard, started signing the documents wherever they were marked. With Fitzpatrick’s dirty money, he could fight for custody of his boy and his unborn child; then he’d figure out how he’d spend the rest of his life.

* * *

“You’re a fool!”Nadine scrubbed the stove as if her very life depended on it. “You let that woman go? Couldn’t you see that she loved you, that she wanted to have your children, that she would’ve done anything… Oh, for crying out loud, why am I talking to you?” Still polishing the damned stainless steel, she hazarded a quick glare in his direction. “Men!”

Turner wasn’t going to let Nadine rattle him. He wouldn’t have confided in her at all except she already knew half the story and when she’d come here and found Heather gone, she’d guessed the rest. He grabbed a bottle of beer from the refrigerator, plopped himself down at the table and twisted open the cap.

“What about your son?” Nadine asked. “What’re you going to do about him?”

“Probably sue for custody.”

“Oh, great! Just wonderful!” Nadine didn’t even attempt to hide her scorn. “Really confuse the kid.” She threw her dirty rag into a pail and put her rubber-glove-encased hands on her slim hips. “First the man he thought was his father rejected him, and now the guy claiming to be his real dad is getting into a bloody legal battle with his mom. And he’s the prize. ’Course he’ll be pushed and pulled and put through a damned emotional wringer before it’s all settled! Think, Turner!Use that brain of yours if you can find it! What’s going to happen to Adam and, as far as that goes, not that it really matters, mind you, think what’s going to happen to you!”

“I’m—”

“Miserable.” Nadine yanked off her gloves, and her anger was suddenly replaced with a deeper emotion. She took in a long breath and said in a voice that was surprisingly even given the state of her emotions, “Look, Turner, believe me, I, of all people, wouldn’t steer you into a relationship you didn’t want. But for the past week or two, you’ve been different—a changed man. Whether you know it or not, Heather Leonetti got under your skin so deep, you’ll never be able to shed yourself of her. So you’d better stop being a coward and face up to the fact.” She made a quick motion to the bottle of beer he cradled, untouched, between his hands. “And that’s not going to help. Your father was proof enough of that.”

To gall her as much as anything, he took a long swallow. The beer tasted sour, and he hated to admit it but she was right, damn it. He missed Heather. He missed waking up with her; he missed hearing her sing; he missed the scent of her perfume on his pillow and the lilt of her laughter. He missed making love to her at night.

And that didn’t even begin to compare to how empty he felt without Adam. Since the boy had been gone, Turner felt as if a hole had been torn from his heart.

“Don’t let your pride be your downfall,” Nadine said as she reached for the pile of papers he was about to throw out. “You know where you can find her.” With a flip of her wrist, she sailed the wedding invitation for Rachelle Tremont and Jackson Moore onto the table.“That’s all I’ve got to say.”

Thank God she didn’t know he planned to sell the ranch to Fitzpatrick.

He watched as she strode out the door in a cloud of self-righteous fury. She was right, damn it, Turner thought, picking up the invitation. Heather would be there. At the wedding.

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