“Understood.” He fished a folded sheet of paper out of his hip pocket. “My mother died of cancer when I was fourteen. On her deathbed, she told me that nine months before I was born, she’d had an affair with Frank Culhane—an affair they’d ended because they were both married to other people. I’m Frank’s son—your half brother.”
Jasmine forced herself to take his revelation calmly. If Hayden Barr was telling the truth, she wasn’t alone. She had a brother, a possible friend and confidante. The news could be wonderful. But what if he was lying? Or what if he only wanted to take advantage of her? Red lights flashed in her head.
“My father got around. That part doesn’t surprise me,” she said. “But your word isn’t proof. Is Frank’s name on your birth certificate?”
“No. My mother’s husband, Chet Barr, is listed as myfather. But this DNA test I had done confirms the truth.” He unfolded the paper and thrust it into her hands. Jasmine studied it a moment. Something, she realized, was missing.
“Wait,” she said. “This test confirms that you’re not related to Chet Barr. But that’s all. You didn’t test your DNA against my father’s. You’ve got nothing here.”
“I didn’t have his sample for the test,” Hayden said. “But look at me, Jasmine, if I may call you that. I’ve seen his photos—there’s one on the wall in the equestrian complex. I look a lot like him—the thick hair, the eyebrows; it’s almost like looking into a mirror.”
Jasmine studied his earnest face. “Well, maybe not quite a mirror. I do see a resemblance, but that doesn’t constitute legal proof.” She gave him a laser-focused glare. “Exactly what is it you want from me, Hayden?”
“I want a sample of your DNA,” he said. “If the test shows that you’re my sister, that would be enough to prove that Frank Culhane was my father.”
His request put Jasmine on instant alert. Maybe the young cowboy was on the level. But DNA could be used in ID theft, blackmail, and other crimes. Her DNA would have been on the mojito glass. Maybe he’d planned to take it, she thought. But glancing down, she saw that the glass had been whisked away by the efficient hotel staff. He would have to get it directly from her.
“And then what?” she asked. “Assuming you could get proof, what would you do with it?”
“Change the name on my birth certificate. And get to know my new family, if they’ll have me.”
“Your new family would be me. The rest of the Culhane bloodline is either dead or unborn. We’re finished here, Hayden. I’m not reckless enough to give my DNA to a perfect stranger, especially if he claims to be my brother.”
As she looked back at the cowboy, his image began to blur. Even through her sunglasses, the light behind him was blinding. Spasms of nausea churned in her stomach.
She struggled to stand, but her legs felt as if they’d liquified beneath her. Maybe she’d gotten too much sun. Or—God forbid—maybe she shouldn’t have trusted that mojito.
“You need to lie down, Jasmine.” Hayden was helping her up, supporting her by the arms and shoulders in a solicitous manner that wouldn’t draw attention. “Let me get you up to your room. Here, I’ve found the key card in your purse. The elevator is just inside. Come on. Don’t worry, Sis. I’ve got you.”
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
Cheyenne had begun to feel like a caged animal, cooped up in the hotel room with her mother. As the hours crawled past, she’d forced herself to remember how her mother had spent nights tending sick children without a word of complaint, and how she’d sacrificed nice things for herself to meet her family’s needs—a pretty dress for Cheyenne, quality boots and hats for her younger sons, a new wheelchair for her husband.
Rachel had been an exemplary mother, giving her all with meager thanks and scarcely a word of complaint. The least she deserved was a little patience and understanding from her daughter in this unfamiliar place.
And Cheyenne wouldn’t be a captive much longer. The afternoon sun was low in the sky. The Race to the Slide event was scheduled to start at 5:00 in the main arena. It should be fun to watch. No judges and no scores—just the fastest run to the longest sliding stop. If she could talk her mother into going, they could stay in their seats for the Run for a Million. Afterward, they had a pass to go back behind the stands and meet Roper.
Rachel was napping, stretched out on her bed with hershoes off and a blanket over her legs. If she was still asleep by the time their room service meals arrived, Cheyenne would wake her. Then, if all went well, they would eat and get ready to go down to the arena.
Cheyenne’s hopes would be with Roper tonight—not only in the competition, but afterward, when Sam Rafferty’s decision would determine the course of his life. Either he would be a free man, or he would be a prisoner.
Maybe she would get to meet Lila, Roper’s boss and the woman he loved. For her brother’s sake, Cheyenne was prepared to like her. But Rachel would have her claws out, ready to draw blood. It might be best to keep the two women apart.
Cheyenne had been checking her phone all day. This time, her heart skipped as she saw the new text and began to read.
Just wanted to let you know that Chief and I made it home this afternoon. I checked on Fire Dance first thing. Physically, he looks good—no visible injuries, and he’s eating and drinking a little. But he’s still terrified. I can’t get near him. If I try, he runs away when he can. Or if he’s cornered, he rears and threatens. It is a good sign that he doesn’t attack. I’ll keep working with him and let you know how he’s doing.
Now comes the hard part. Last night was wonderful. What you gave me was beyond precious. But I won’t hold you to anything you said. You’re young, gifted, and beautiful. And you could do so much better than a run-down cowboy with nothing to offer you but his heart.
There’s something I need to tell you, Cheyenne—something I should have told you sooner. When you know, you’ll understand why I’m cutting you loose.
When I was eighteen, I went to prison for rape and served three years. The girl was seventeen—my high school sweetheart. We were just a couple of dumb kids fooling around.What happened between us was entirely consensual. But when I decided to break up with her and go to college, she went to her parents and accused me of forcing her. Her father was a judge. She was believed without question. I didn’t have a prayer.
I don’t have to tell you what three years behind bars was like. After I’d served my time, college was out of the question. My parents had died while I was locked up, and my younger sister had been taken in by relatives. I brought her home and got the family ranch running again.
I would have told you this up front. But I sensed that you needed me. I needed you, too. What if I’d told you the truth? Would you have let me touch you? Or would you have run away in horror?
I hope, as time passes, that you will come to understand and forgive me. Meanwhile, I’ll continue to work with Fire Dance. If I can get him to the point where he’s safe for you to handle, I’ll have him delivered to you. If not—we agreed on what we would do. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.