Hollow Justice (Cowboy Justice Association Book 13) Read online

  "You must be the Monroes." She stepped back so they could enter. "We've been expecting you."

  We?

  Reynolds was divorced and his children were all old enough to have their own homes, but this place was large enough to house several families and they wouldn't have to see each other very often. Unless they wanted to. Jared loved his siblings, but he was damn happy that he didn't live in the same house as his sister Becky. She was best experienced in small doses.

  The foyer of the home was just as impressive as the outside, with marble floors and soaring ceilings. A sweeping staircase that belonged in an old Hollywood film was to their left, complete with a dark mahogany railing and crimson carpeting that led to the landing on the upper floor.

  A pretty young woman with long dark hair stood up there looking down on them. She wasn't very old, perhaps late teens or early twenties. She didn't say anything, just stared for a few seconds and then turned and walked away, disappearing down a hallway.

  "That was Taylor," the woman said. "Adam's granddaughter. I'm sorry she didn't greet you. She can get moody at times but then that's the norm with young people, isn't it? Follow me and I'll take you to Adam."

  The woman, who hadn't introduced herself, led them into a hallway under the staircase all the way to a door at the end. She knocked briefly but didn't wait for anyone to speak, pushing the heavy wooden door open so they could enter.

  "Adam, the Monroes are here."

  Jared had seen photos of Adam Reynolds when he'd researched the billionaire, so his appearance wasn't a surprise. He'd shown Misty some pictures as well, but she was currently gazing at him as if trying to imprint every detail of his features indelibly into her brain.

  She was looking for a resemblance between them.

  Frankly, he didn't see any. Reynolds had been blond in his youth and he had blue eyes as well, but that was the end of it as far as Jared could tell. Their noses, brows, hairline, even lips were different. It didn't mean that he wasn't her father, though. He'd seen pictures of Misty's mother and she definitely favored that side of the family.

  Reynolds rounded the side of his large desk, a wide smile on his face. His hair was graying, the front slightly receding but that seemed to be the only concession to age. Despite his declaration of being at death's door he looked fit, trim, and tanned.

  "Misty, welcome to my home," he said warmly, holding his arms out as if he was going to try to hug her. Jared stiffened instinctively, not wanting his wife to be put on the spot. Reynolds, however, didn't go for any more contact than a two-handed handshake. "My god, you look just like your mother. The spitting image. She was so incredibly beautiful. Inside and out."

  And yet you left her pregnant and poor. Asshole.

  The billionaire swung his attention to Jared, finally letting go of Misty's hands.

  "And you are Jared Monroe. Your reputation precedes you. I read about your part in the apprehension of Wade Bryson."

  Jared fucking hated it when people brought up that homicidal bastard. Besides, he hadn't really done all that much. Logan had done the heavy lifting in that case.

  He shook hands with the older man anyway, not wanting to appear churlish, but it probably didn't matter. Adam Reynolds' complete attention was back on Misty.

  "It's just so eerie looking at you. You look so much like her." Reynolds chuckled and ran his fingers through his short hair. "I'm sorry to keep going on about it. She named you Misty after her favorite book, didn't she? Misty of Chincoteague."

  Misty's brows rose. "She told you about that?"

  "We talked about so many things."

  They'd done more than talk if Misty was any evidence.

  "Please, forgive my poor manners," the older man apologized. "Please have a seat. Can I get you anything to drink or eat? I can just ring up the kitchen staff and you can have anything that you want."

  Misty and Jared settled into a leather couch while Reynolds sat in a brown leather chair. The library was impressive with walls covered in books and a fireplace nestled in the corner, unlit at this time of year. Over the mantle was a large painting of two children who Jared assumed belonged to Reynolds. He had a son and a daughter.

  Jared glanced at Misty, but she shook her head. "We're fine, thank you."

  Reynolds appeared to be nervous, rubbing his hands together, his feet dancing even though he was seated. "I've so been looking forward to you visiting. I've talked about nothing else to Lydia."

  "Lydia?" Misty asked. "Is she your daughter?"

  "No, she's my...significant other, I guess you could say. She's the one that answered the door. I'm divorced and Lydia was once my assistant. Now she runs the house. And my life, but she does a much better job than I ever could. My daughter's name is Dahlia and my son David."

  "We saw your granddaughter at the top of the stairs," Misty said. "She's lovely."

  The older man's smile widened. Clearly, he was fond of his granddaughter. "I'm very proud of Taylor. She's smart as a whip. She's going to Stanford in the fall. She wants to be a doctor, she says."

  His smile wavered and then his shoulders slumped. "She says that she wants to research a cure for cancer. She's always been a wonderful child. I don't deserve her."

  At this point, Jared was of the opinion that Adam Reynolds didn't deserve Misty either, but he'd love to be proven wrong.

  "We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," Mistry replied softly, her expression softening. "It's personal, after all."

  Except that it was the entire reason that they were sitting in this room, talking to this man.

  Reynolds shook his head. "No, it's fine. I've accepted my fate. I went through all the stages, including bargaining, but even with all my money I can't outrun death. I have late stage pancreatic cancer and there isn't much they can do. They wanted me to get treatment to extend my life a few months, but I don't want to be sick at the end. I want to enjoy the time I have left. They say I'll probably be gone before Christmas. That's why I had to contact you, Misty. I have to try and put right all the bad things I've done in my life."

  "That's why I'm here," she murmured, her gaze dropping to her handbag where her fingers were pleating the leather strap. "I want to hear your story."

  "You're a good person to listen. Not many people would."

  "That's true," Jared said, his tone hard. "Misty has always had a soft heart and I wouldn't want anyone to take advantage of that."

  He could almost hear his wife rolling her eyes at his protective statement, but he didn't care. He wasn't going to let some asshole walk all over his wife.

  Reynolds nodded. "I understand what you're saying, of course. I know you don't trust me and, frankly, I haven't given you any reason to. I just want a chance to put my life into order before I go."

  "You're not even sure that Misty is your daughter," Jared reminded him. "So there may not be anything to fix."

  "Say the word and I can have a doctor in here for a cheek swab in less than an hour. But I do believe that I'm your father, Misty." Reynolds placed a hand on his chest. "I know it in here."

  Straightening in her chair, Misty glanced over at Jared. "Then I have some questions."

  "I'll answer them all."

  This was Jared's cue to leave them on their own. He and his wife had discussed this, and she was adamant that she have some time alone with Adam Reynolds to talk about her mother. Although Jared had heard many stories about Misty's mother, he had a feeling there were a few that had been held back. For good reason, if the stories he'd heard were true. She'd had a tumultuous upbringing to say the least.

  Jared stood and then bent down to drop a kiss on Misty's forehead. "If you don't mind, I think I'll go and check out the house and grounds while you two chat."

  He might be giving them time alone, but he still didn't trust Adam Reynolds. That made him one of two things...

  A cynical asshole or right. Only time would tell which.

  6

  Misty could certainly see why her mother had
become involved with Adam Reynolds. Even with an advanced stage cancer, he was a handsome man. She'd seen photos of him, of course, when she'd done some research, but nothing had prepared her for the sheer charisma the older man exuded. She had to wonder if he'd always been that way or had his success given him extreme self-confidence?

  Annette Foster had loved a swaggering bad boy; at least that's what she'd told her daughter. Misty hadn't understood when she was a child, but later she had understood all too well, vowing that she'd never end up with a man like that. She'd kept her word too, marrying Jared who could never have carried a label like that. He was far too ethical and upstanding, although he could be the very devil in the bedroom.

  But that was a different topic altogether.

  "You don't look sick," she blurted when Jared left the room. "I mean...I'm sorry, but you look really healthy."

  "The irony of pancreatic cancer," he replied with a tight smile. "I don't look like I'm dying but I can assure you that I am. You can talk to my doctor if you like. I don't want to keep any secrets from you, Misty."

  "I believe you," she assured him, fidgeting in her chair slightly. This wasn't the easiest of conversations and her heart was beating a mile a minute. Her palms were even a little sweaty, but she didn't want to wipe them down her jeans in front of him. "So can you tell me about my mother? I mean...about your relationship?"

  Sitting back, a smile played around his mouth. "The day I met your mother will always be clear in my memory. It was a Friday and I was spending the weekend in Denver visiting a friend from college. Your mother and her girlfriend Zelda were sitting a few tables away at a cafe. I could hear her laughter and that made me turn and look at her. She was so beautiful and full of life. I just had to meet her. So I had the waitress give me their bill. When they found out I'd paid for their dinner, they came over to say thank you. That's when I asked your mother out on a date. I was young and brash back then, full of confidence. It never occurred to me that she would turn me down."

  "Did she? Turn you down?"

  "She said yes."

  That sounded like Annette Foster. Her zest for living was legendary and if a handsome man had bought her dinner and asked her out, she would have said yes. She'd always been the adventurous type, grabbing onto life with both hands and holding on for the ride. Misty, on the other hand, would have been instantly suspicious. She hadn't taken after her mother in that way.

  For so many reasons, but mostly because the people of Fielding, Montana hadn't taken kindly to Annette's sense of adventure. She simply hadn't fit in with the townsfolk's idea of what a single mother should be and they'd persecuted her - and Misty - for not fitting in. Annette hadn't cared much about being accepted but her daughter had.

  "I took her out the next day," Adam went on. "We spent the whole day together driving around and seeing the sights. She was so much fun and she made me laugh. I loved her spontaneity. My childhood had been rather regimented, and she was a breath of fresh air."

  "You were already married?"

  Clearing his throat, Adam nodded. "Yes, I was already married to Sandra. I'm not proud of my actions. Your mother said she wasn't looking for any commitment. She just wanted to have fun. Her friend was like that too, always laughing and having a good time."

  "I remember mom talking about her friend Zelda, but I never met her. She sent me birthday presents for several years."

  Then the gifts had stopped. Misty didn't know why but she assumed now that her mother and Zelda had some sort of falling out or simply drifted apart.

  "Zelda wasn't her real name, you know. It was a nickname that she'd earned because she liked to go out and party. Her actual name was Amelia Banks. She passed away when you were just a child. Car accident. Very tragic."

  That explained why the gifts had stopped. It also might be an explanation as to why Annette's "party" behavior had escalated at that point, the nights becoming longer and the drinking more plentiful.

  "I didn't know that. That's very sad. Mom never mentioned it to me." Misty shrugged awkwardly. "I assume she knew."

  "She probably did. She was close to Zelda's brother and sister. They would have told her."

  There was a pause in the conversation, the tension growing. Misty could feel his reluctance to continue but this was what she was here for. To hear his story. She waited patiently while he collected his thoughts, not prodding him or trying to put words in his mouth.

  "We grew close," he finally said, his gaze somewhere far off. He was remembering and she wished she could see those images of her mother young and carefree. Misty's own memories were dominated by the time at the end when Annette was sick and dying. "I'd like to tell you that I fell in love with Annette, but I doubt that I was even capable of the emotion back then. I was young and selfish, and I only thought about myself. Hell, that's pretty much what I've done my whole life, to be honest. I was a taker and I took from your mother. I enjoyed my time with her, but I never intended it to be anything more. I visited my friend when Annette said she'd be there with Zelda. We had fun. Your mother had the ability to make a person feel special."

  That was a facet of her mother's personality that she hadn't seen but she didn't discount Adam's statement. Annette might have been quite different before her daughter was born.

  "And then she got pregnant," Misty said, watching his expression closely. "So you left."

  "I haven't been a good person," he explained with a grimace. "As a matter of fact, I've been a real son of a bitch, thinking only of myself. I'm sure you already know that about me, though. I checked you and your husband Jared out before sending that letter and from what I found out I have no doubt whatsoever that he checked me out too. His reputation as a lawman precedes him."

  "He doesn't want to talk about Wade Bryson," Misty replied quickly. "Don't bring it up."

  "I won't," Adam promised. "I also learned about his family."

  "They're wonderful people. Some of the best I've ever known."

  She wasn't just saying that. It was the truth.

  "I'm glad that you had them. I'm only sorry that I wasn't a better man for you. If it's any consolation I was a lousy father to my other children. They pretty much hate me, and I don't blame them."

  "I'm sure they don't hate you."

  "Maybe. They might just feel nothing for me. I wasn't there for them, either. My ex-wife Sandra says that I lack empathy. She's probably right. She usually is. At least that's what she told me when we were married," he chuckled.

  He didn't seem all that bothered by the fact that his own children might hate him. Misty would be devastated if Lizzie and Nate hated her.

  "So my mother got pregnant," Misty prompted. "And you left."

  Adam's smile dimmed. "I did and I'm not proud of that. As I said I was young and selfish. My only defense is that I would have been a lousy father. I wasn't cut out to be a parent, if I'm honest."

  "And married."

  "That too."

  If Misty were going to be honest right back, she would have said that Annette Foster wasn't cut out for parenthood either. But she wouldn't say that. Her mother had done her best, but her idea of motherhood was unusual. She had managed to give Misty a spine of steel and the determination to make something of herself despite all the naysayers.

  "I'm almost forty now. You've waited a long time for a reunion."

  "And I would have waited longer," Adam said sadly, "if I hadn't become ill. Facing your mortality makes you examine your life closely. It makes you see yourself in ways you never would have before. I now see that I've made so many mistakes. I can't hope to right them all but I'm hoping that I can with you, Misty."

  Those were pretty words...

  "Why should I believe you after all of this time? Why should I even care? I've done pretty well without you."

  "You've done just fine without me–"

  "I know."

  On one hand she wanted to get to know this man, but on the other she wasn't feeling all that charitable. Her childhood had pr
etty much sucked. She didn't think about it much anymore, didn't dwell on it, but he'd brought all this stuff up again after she'd thought she'd laid it to rest. Now she had to deal with it. Again.

  He was going to have to do that, too. It was only fair.

  "But you're here," he went on. "That must mean that you are at least curious."

  "I am, but I'm not sure what you want from me. Forgiveness? Absolution? I'm not sure that I can give you any of that. And even if I could, I'm not sure that I want to."

  "I'm not asking for forgiveness," he said quickly with a shake of his head. "I know I'm far too late for that. My hope is that I can somehow make it up to you. At the very least answer your questions about your father. You must have had many as you grew up. Then of course, to allow you to yell at me. Call me names. It's your right to do that and I won't deny you the opportunity."

  Misty didn't want to call him names or scream and yell. She didn't want to call anyone names, although there were moments when she was driving and someone would pull out in front of her that she was quite tempted.

  At this point, she didn't feel enough for Adam Reynolds to conjure up that much emotion for him, positive or negative. Perhaps if they got to know one another she might eventually become angry.

  Especially if she liked him. She wasn't sure how she felt about him at the present time.

  "Actually, what I really want is to ask you a question. All these years...did you ever think about me and Mom? Did you ever feel any regrets or guilt?"

  She already knew the answer. His expression gave it away. To his credit, he wasn't trying to hide it.

  "Not really, no. I don't think I can emphasize enough, Misty, just how much of a jerk I've been my whole life. Until recently, I didn't care about anyone else but myself. You deserve the truth and I won't lie to make myself look better. If I thought about your mom at any point, I pushed it out of my mind completely. I wouldn't allow myself to have regrets or guilt because those emotions would get in the way of my goals. I didn't have time for sentimentality. Love and friendship were alien concepts to me. I only knew competition, winning, and losing. That's it."