When The Heart Beckons Read Online Free PDF

when Brett had
confronted him and demanded to know the truth.
    Oh, God
, he prayed, and Ross
McCallum’s lips moved stiffly over the unfamiliar words of humble
appeal.
Let me have the chance to explain. Keep Brett safe from
Red Cobb; don’t let my son’s death be added to my account as well.
I know I have much to answer for, but please, let me have another
chance with my son
...
    Just one. One more chance.
    * * *
    “There will be other chances,” Charles
Derrickson said confidently as he sank into a gilded chair in the
Royal Suite of the Empire Hotel and reached for a glass of
Madeira.
    “Oh, yes, there certainly will be.” Lucas
Johnson strolled back and forth across the Aubusson carpet, his
expensive shiny black boots making a soft thud with each step. “You
keep at him, Derrickson,” Johnson instructed him slowly. “Subtly,
with finesse, but don’t let up. You hear me? Wait a few days, and
then try again.”
    “Yes, sir, I will!”
    “It’s only a matter of time,” Johnson
reiterated, pausing before the white marble fireplace to down his
own goblet of Madeira before continuing his deliberate circuit
around the spacious parlor. “Everything will fall into place.”
    He stroked his fierce brown mustache as he
prowled the room with the coiled, dangerous energy that
characterized him. He was a handsome man and he knew it. Tall,
lean, with fire-blue eyes and proud, aristocratic features, he
looked every inch the gentleman of means in his broadcloth suit and
starched white cravat, with his gold watch and fob tucked neatly
inside the satin pocket of his vest.
    Johnson smiled with sly anticipation. Divide
and conquer—an amazingly effective strategy. With Brett gone, Ross
McCallum was alone, bereft and distracted. That made him weak. As
weak as an old lead mule cut off from the pack, Johnson concluded.
The son of a bitch had no one to turn to for support, few friends
in the business community who would lift a finger—his own
ruthlessness had earned him too many enemies to count—in short,
Johnson decided, McCallum was ripe for the kill.
    “Have you heard from Bartholomew?”
Derrickson inquired.
    “Oh, yes.” He broke into a wide grin, the
same sensually charming, confident grin that had set countless
female hearts aflutter over his forty-odd years. “A telegraph
message came this morning. It’s good news. Cobb will be closing in
on Brett McCallum very soon.”
    “Really.”
    “There is no doubt that he is in the Arizona
territory,” Johnson said coolly, halting before the
velvet-curtained window overlooking the street. His smooth melodic
voice was filled with satisfaction. “Young Master Brett may well be
dead before that private investigator Ross hired even reaches the
Arizona border.” He turned from the window, the cruel smile that
always frightened Derrickson twisting his lips. “With any luck,
that is.”
    “Yes, sir. With any luck.” But Derrickson
suddenly set the wine glass down, unable to take another sip.
Deceiving and outfoxing a ruthless financial giant was one thing,
but killing a young man in the prime of his life was quite another.
Derrickson was queasy about this aspect of the job. He was only
glad it had nothing to do with his own end of things. He would take
care of Ross McCallum, and Bartholomew and Cobb would handle the
dirt.
    Derrickson watched Johnson through uneasy
eyes. Johnson seemed to vibrate with exultation.
The man is
pure evil
, Derrickson realized suddenly. A shudder ran between
his shoulder blades.
He loves this little plot of his
,
Derrickson thought.
He savors every twist and turn of
it
.
    “What if Cobb doesn’t get to young McCallum
before the private investigator starts poking around?” Derrickson
ventured, afraid Johnson would notice his nervousness if he didn’t
say something soon. “What if the investigator gets in the way?”
    Lucas Johnson crossed to the side table and
poured himself another glass of wine. The gold and ruby ring on his
finger glittered