Free Once a Rebel by Sheri Whitefeather Page B

underground cave, he could see her in the dark because his eyes had adjusted to the absence of light.
    She looked so pretty, with her hair fanned across apillow and her nightgown clinging to her body like a 3:00 a.m. rain.
    Ryan didn’t want to leave her. He didn’t want to die.
    When his breath clogged his lungs, he sat up, his body stiff from the rigid motion, from remaining still for so long. He flexed his legs, trying to regain use of his limbs.
    Having a tumor was a bitch.
    Desperate for some air, he reached for the clothes he’d deliberately left on a chair and grabbed his boots, tiptoeing, a bit sideways, to the sitting area and heading for the door.
    Lily sighed in her sleep, and he hoped that she was dreaming. A good dream. Something heavenly.
    He got dressed in the hall, then took care of his pajamas. As quietly as possible, he rumpled them into a ball and tossed them back into the room, where they landed in the sitting area like the ghosts that haunted Topper. Ryan smiled to himself, remembering those screwball comedies. Cary Grant classics, filmed even before he was born.
    Being a ghost wouldn’t be so bad, he decided. Not if life imitated art. But he knew it didn’t. He wouldn’t return from the dead to star in a madcap movie.
    Once he was gone, it was over. Finished. He would never see Lily again.
    With his heart twisting in his chest, he picked up the phone in the kitchen and called the main security line, letting them know he was going for a walk.
    The officer didn’t question his motives, but this wasn’t the first time he’d strolled the grounds at this hour. Ryan was becoming a regular night owl.
    But hey, rich folks were known for being eccentric.
    At least Lily never found out. He always returned before she awakened, before she could worry about her husband’s insomnia.
    After he ended the call, he left through the back door and went outside, anxious to absorb the land that had become his legacy.
    The Double Crown Ranch.
    He spotted a security vehicle that was parked beside the perimeter of the backyard and waved to the guard who was manning it. He received a wave in return, realizing all of the officers on duty had been informed through their communication system that the old man was playing vampire again.
    A rancher. A humanitarian. A ghoul of the night.
    It struck Ryan as funny. But it struck him as sad, too.
    He wondered if his father would be waiting for him in the afterlife, if Kingston Fortune would lead him into the white light.
    And what about Cameron, his older brother? The ultracharming, drinking, gambling party boy who’d left a comatose woman and an unborn child behind? Ryan wasn’t sure if he wanted to see Cameron again, even if Linda and Ricky had survived the pain Cam had put them through.
    Ryan had done right by Linda and her son, but he was still worried about them, wishing he could find a young, noble man to look after them when he was gone.
    But that was what he wanted for all of the women in his family. Gallant knights, dragon slayers who loved them.
    The way he loved Lily.
    Ryan kept walking, away from the prying eyes of the security guard and into the night. He needed to be alone, to think, to reminisce.
    He didn’t want his dragon slayer days to be over, even if his legs were getting weak, even if the darkness threatened to swallow him.
    And then it did. Within the blink of an eye, someone grabbed him from behind, covering his mouth and making it impossible to breathe.
    Â 
    â€œSusan?” Ethan said her name, whispering into the phone. Had she fallen asleep? Drifted into a sensuous slumber?
    She didn’t respond, but he didn’t have the strength to hang up on her.
    Beautiful Susan. The girl of his boyhood dreams.
    He took the phone into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, where the light poured over the cracker-box room like a message from God.
    He frowned and grabbed a beer, hoping the Creator didn’t mind.