Triplets for the Texan (Texas Cattleman's Club: Blackmail 5)

But what if he proposed and she said no? Why had he purchased a house so near hers? He had to drive by Simone’s house every day on the way to work. That would be unbearable if they broke up for a second time.

He’d never been good at games of chance. Knowing the odds were stacked against him meant he’d never had any real trouble staying away from gambling. He liked being in control.

Yet here he was, contemplating a course that was neither certain nor even advisable. On paper it seemed absurd. His parents clearly agreed. Why would he risk so much when he had no idea if Simone cared for him at all?

Again, he visited the possibility that she was using him. With triplets on the way, she might think she needed a second parent in the house above all else. Such a rationale made her seem cold and calculating. The Simone he knew was neither of those things.

When he regained a modicum of control over his emotions, he put on the bow tie again. It was ti

me for him to go back inside to smile and to dance and to do whatever it took to make it through the remainder of the ball. After that, he’d get his reward. One whole night in Simone’s bed. Or his. He wasn’t too picky about locale.

As he turned around to head back the way he had come, a large man about Hutch’s height stepped out of the shadows and blocked the path. Hutch froze, sensing danger. But the man was in formal attire and wore one of the masquerade masks. Surely this wasn’t some gate-crasher come late to wreck the party.

“What can I do for you, sir?”

The man straightened. He was big and broad, but even in the moonlight Hutch could see that his face was gaunt. “It’s what I can do for you, Dr. Hutchinson.”

“Who are you? How do you know my name?”

“You can call me Maverick. It doesn’t matter how I know your name. I’m here to give you fair warning about the woman in the red dress.”

Hutch frowned. “Simone?”

“Of course, Simone. Who else? You don’t have a clue what she’s really up to, do you?”

“This conversation is over.” Hutch was furious and perturbed underneath that. Why did the stranger even care? Hutch went to brush past him, but the old guy put a beefy hand smack in the middle of Hutch’s chest. “Don’t run off, young man. I’m here to save you from yourself.”

“It sounds to me like you’re here to bad-mouth Simone. And I don’t care to listen anymore.”

The man got up in his face. “That little slut in the red dress got pregnant on purpose so she could inherit half of her grandfather’s estate. Did your precious Si mone ever bother to tell you that twist in the story?”

“You’re lying,” Hutch said. Fury blurred his vision. He wanted to drag the man into the moonlight and see his face. With the mask and the shadows, he hadn’t a clue who he was.

“It’s no lie. You ask her. And ask her if she knows Maverick. I think you’ll be unpleasantly surprised.”

“Go to hell.” Hutch shoved past him, determined to walk away without indulging in a fistfight. He knew how to fell an assailant, but he’d rather not in this setting.

The other man was older, but bulkier. Hutch never even saw the blow coming. It caught him in the temple. Something sharp, a ring perhaps, cut into his skin. Then he fell hard and hit his head.

* * *

Simone began to worry when Hutch didn’t come back after half an hour. Fifteen minutes after that she decided to go in search of him. She didn’t bother with looking inside the hotel. He had professed a need for fresh air.

Outside, she inhaled deeply, happy to be away from the crush of the party. It was, by every measure, a grand success. She and Naomi and Cecelia could be justifiably proud of what they had managed to pull off. The money raised for Homes and Hearts would be enough to build modest homes for three needy families.

Even knowing that her event was a smashing victory wasn’t enough to erase her unease. She walked away from the building toward the parking area. “Hutch!” she called out, her voice fraught with worry. She noticed that the space in and around the cars had been landscaped beautifully. Plenty of places to hide if a person or a couple didn’t want to be discovered.

“Hutch!” She stood by his car now, only a little relieved to see it was still there. At least he hadn’t left the premises.

Still no answer. She followed a series of small signposts leading back into the trees. For a moment, she stood, irresolute. Normally, she would take more care with her personal safety. This was private property, though. She had seen at least a dozen uniformed security guards mingling with the crowd and monitoring the entrances and exits. No one was out here trying to mug unwary party guests.

At least she hoped not.

She continued to walk, half a mile at least. Her shoes were not meant for traipsing about in the woods. When the pain of a blister became too much to handle, she stopped and took off her expensive footwear. Chances were, the heels were a loss. When she looked back, she could see the hotel in the distance all lit up like a fairy-tale castle. “Hutch!”

A faint groan was her only answer. She almost tripped over him. “Hutch!” She knelt urgently, reassured in part when she heard him breathing. “Hutch, it’s Simone. Wake up.” Frustrated and scared, she removed his mask and her own. This was no time for pretense.

She had no water, no rag to put water on. No way to sponge his face and wake him up. Nevertheless, she got one arm around his shoulders and held him against her breast. “Hutch. Can you hear me? It’s Simone. What happened to you?” Even in the shadowy woods, she could see something dark against his temple. When she tested it with a fingertip, she got woozy. Blood. Definitely blood.