"So, when Victoria called you about Teresa . . . ?"

"It was the first time I'd heard from her since Stephen's death. Actually, pretty much the first time she'd called me directly. I was surprised, to say the least, when she identified herself. I went to see her just for the kick of it, in the beginning. What the h.e.l.l, I figured. She's a stone-cold b.i.t.c.h, but it was so out of character I was interested."

The memory made his mouth twitch with repressed humor. "I'll introduce you to Victoria. She lives on the ranch, but she's no rancher. She's more like her name: rigid, uptight, Victorian."

"When would this mythical introduction take place?"

His gaze slid over her face. "If I can find Teresa and work a deal with her, that's probably where Tucker will end up. I figured you'd want to keep in touch."

"Of course. It's a lot of ifs, though."

"One way or another, we're going to make sure Tucker's safe."

Callie tried to imagine how she would fit into Tucker's life but couldn't. "Why are you the black sheep?" she asked. "I mean why, specifically?"

"I think I just explained it."

"So, it's just because your mother wasn't married to your father? It wasn't anything you did."

"You're trying to make a distinction between a b.a.s.t.a.r.d and a black sheep. The Laughlins consider it one and the same. Craig had to make a choice, and he chose his wife and Stephen."

"He could have still kept you as part of the family," Callie said.

"Not if he wanted to share in everything Laughlin, which he did. He wasn't about to let his brother, Benjamin Jr., inherit everything. According to my mother, there was always fierce compet.i.tion between them."

"So, your father ignored both you and your mother, then spent a lot of his time fighting with his brother over money?"

He shrugged. "Craig and Ben Jr. were antagonists, near as I can tell."

"But you and your half brother were close?"

"Stephen and I were friends," West allowed. "Not really close, but we kept in contact. It wasn't brother against brother, like Craig and Ben Jr."

"What happened to Ben Jr., is he still around?"

"Nope. He had a falling out with the family-I don't know exactly what happened-but he was practically excommunicated by my grandparents. Made my father happy, though. Craig got what he wanted all along: to be the only Laughlin heir. After my grandfather died and it was just Victoria in charge, Craig was worried that there would be some forgiveness handed out. He made another halfhearted attempt to contact me. Said he wanted me to be a part of the ranch with Stephen. I was working my way up to detective at the LAPD and told him to go screw himself. Again, Victoria would have never allowed it anyway."

"So, when your father died, Stephen was the only heir."

"There was some provision in the will for me, but I refused it. Now, I guess it will all go to Tucker once my grandmother dies."

"Does Teresa know that? She must."

"It wasn't any kind of secret. Maybe that's why she's stashed Tucker with Aimee, waiting for him to grow up a little. As the Mama Bear, she would be in a good position to run things eventually, so maybe she's just biding her time until Victoria dies."

"It doesn't sound like you really believe that," Callie ventured.

"I think it's a little too long term for Teresa to plot. After Stephen's death, I think she just ran."

Callie thought of William Lister and Derek and Diane. All she'd heard about for the last year was Jonathan's will and how they felt things were unfair. "What if your grandmother changed her will?"

"What? To cut out her great-grandson? No way. Victoria wants to leave everything to him."

"But if Teresa were plotting to get her hands on some of the Laughlin estate after Victoria dies, then she would need to make certain Tucker was safe," Callie said.

He nodded.

"Well, he's not safe with Aimee. Not completely."

"Maybe Teresa doesn't know that. Like I said, if she's planning that far ahead, I'd be surprised."

"But your grandmother's health is good," Callie said.

"Far as I know. She's certainly still as imperative as ever."

The ferry's engines turned to a low whine as it slowed and aimed for the dock. Small, round lightbulbs were strung in loops from pole to pole, throwing illumination on the people lined up to catch the ferry back. It was after eight o'clock and Callie suddenly felt famished.

They caught a cab for the short ride to the hotel. There was a steel drum band on a dais at one end of the outdoor patio and an older couple was swaying in each other's arms, though there wasn't really a dance floor. Tables were lit by candles and the dark water of the bay shimmered beneath the outdoor lights. Callie and West were seated close to the water and she could hear the lapping waves and smell the dank, briny scent. She'd worn a tan, sleeveless dress and flat sandals, but looking around at some of the other women she felt a little underdressed.

"I think I'll find the ladies' room before we order," she said.

"What would you like to drink?"

"White wine."

"You're not going to leave, are you?"

She gave him a look and saw the flash of white of his smile. "No."

"Because I'm buying."

"I'll be back. I promise."

She walked inside, thinking about yesterday's escape to the ferry and Tucker. It hadn't been that many hours ago, but now she trusted West Laughlin, at least in regard to Tucker. It was herself she couldn't trust now, her dangerous attraction to the man.

Her phone rang inside her carryall. William. Finally. She slowed her steps and answered, moving toward a corner of the bar that was unoccupied as the man and woman who'd been seated at the nearest corner table were just leaving.

"There you are," she said into the receiver.

"I haven't got anything further on the Laughlins, if that's why you're calling."

"In part. I just . . ." Now that she didn't feel quite so out of control about Tucker and West Laughlin, she didn't really have anything to say.

"Have you decided when you're coming back?" he asked, filling in the gap. "I can set up a meeting with Derek and Diane for next week."

"I'm still not sure about my travel plans, so don't do it yet."

"So, this is still about your interest in the Laughlins." He sounded wary.

"In a way."

"Callie, I should inform you that I can't be your lawyer and also be Derek and Diane's, at least in this instance where you're fighting each other."

"Oh, you're choosing them," she said in surprise. She should have expected as much, but it got to her.

"They feel there's been a misappropriation of funds. Not by you, per se. By Jonathan. I told them I would represent them in the matter."

He didn't sound happy about it, but that hardly helped Callie. "Duly noted," she said dryly.

"You should check with your accountant, when you get back."

"Jonathan's accountant," Callie corrected, thinking of the man she'd only met once.

"Find out about Jonathan's financial dealings. It would be to your benefit to come back soon and get this resolved," he said.

"Thanks for the advice."

She hung up just as she felt someone come up close behind her. She edged away, feeling hurt and angry. William Lister, though not exactly a friend, was someone she'd felt she could count on. He'd been the Cantrell family attorney and that apparently did not extend to her, now that Jonathan was gone. He'd defected to Derek and Diane, the only true Cantrells left.

She started to turn around when a male voice with an American accent whispered harshly in her ear, "There you are. Don't move, or I'll bring the police down on you, you thieving wh.o.r.e."

"What?" She automatically tried to step forward but the corner table was in her way. To her alarm, his hand gripped her hip, holding her in place.

"No, don't turn around. Just ease yourself to the side and walk out through the front doors. I'm right behind you."

"There's-this is a mistake."

"I saw you with tonight's date. I have a gun. Don't make me use it."

A gun? He put slight pressure on her hip to turn her toward the front of the hotel. She didn't fight it. Her gaze ran wildly over the other customers around the bar, hoping one of them would notice something was amiss. What if she just screamed? Never get in a car with a kidnapper. Don't let them take you. You have a much better chance staying alive.

"I don't know you," she said, her voice shaky.

"Stop it. You're making me angry. You don't want to make me angry."

His voice was cold and hard. Her brain had practically shut down, but she got that he thought she was someone else. Teresa.

"My name's Callie Cantrell." She tried to turn to look at him but he was a brick wall of anger.

"I don't give a d.a.m.n what you call yourself today. I want my money back, and I want you in a cell. What the f.u.c.k did you give me?"

She shook her head, afraid to argue with him, her brain racing.

"Come on. We're going to the boat. . . ." She felt something hard in the small of her back and she took a step forward.

Chapter Sixteen.

Callie's heart raced as she moved forward. This couldn't be happening. They were right in the hotel lobby. It would be laughable if it wasn't so frightening. Was he thinking of taking her hostage? Where was his car? Her heart was galloping in her chest. "You've made a mistake," she said again.

"No."

"I'm not Teresa, if that's who you think I am."

He whipped her around and glared into her eyes. He was tall and had a close-cropped salt-and-pepper beard surrounding a florid face. His clothes were casual but expensive. His anger was palpable, but she'd never seen him before in her life.

And he got a jolt looking her square in the face, too. She saw it in the widening of his eyes. "What are you up to?" he demanded.

"I told you. I'm . . . Callie Cantrell."

"Shut the f.u.c.k up. This is some trick!"

"No . . . no trick."

"Who are you?" he demanded. "Where's Tara?"

Tara was close to Teresa. Callie's mind jumped from thought to thought. "I don't know. I don't know."

They were deep into a tense conversation. To the outside world it might appear as a lovers' quarrel. "You know where she is. This is some game."

Callie just stared at him mutely. She didn't have any argument that seemed to wash. But since it was the second time in two days that she'd been mistaken for another woman, she suspected there was some connection between Tara and Teresa. "When did you see Tara?" she asked.

"Last night." He glared at her, unwilling to admit his mistake just yet.

"You were with her last night?" Callie repeated, her pulse leaping.

"Ah, you know her!" He jumped on that.

"No, I'm looking for someone who looks like me as well. Her name's Teresa."

"Old Sal said you were hustling here before, about six years ago. He recognized you, too."

"But it wasn't me," she reminded him, and he stared into her face in consternation.

She realized the hard object pressed against her spine was not a gun but the end of a table knife, which he now held loosely in his hand.

"What's going on here?" West's voice rang out behind him. The guy whipped around, sizing West up.

"It's all right," Callie said quickly, before the situation could get further out of hand. "He thinks I'm someone named Tara."

"Yeah?" West a.s.sessed the man coldly. She realized he was poised on the b.a.l.l.s of his feet. He looked dangerous and determined, and she was glad to see him.