Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Beckett had been waiting for this.
Two days after Marnie told him about Clive’s phone call, Rose. Baker rang him just after dawn.
“Beckett, this is Rose. There was an older gentleman in here early this morning. He checked in last night at the B&B and then came in for breakfast. Ordered a bran muffin and a black coffee. What people order says a lot about them, I always say.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He waited patiently for her to get to the point. He knew the cadence of conversation in Laurel Valley. It was never fast and often meandering.
“Anyway, the reason I called is that this man was looking for Marnie. I know she doesn’t open the shop until nine, so I told him he was early.
But he was asking where she lived and where he could find her.
I didn’t say anything, of course. Marnie’s one of ours now.
But I thought I should let you know. He seemed slimy to me, and I know Marnie will be at the studio any minute.
He’s been sitting in his car over at the B&B waiting for her. ”
A tightness settled in his stomach and his jaw clenched. “Thank you, Mrs. Baker. I appreciate the call. I’m on my way to town now.”
“Oh, good. It’s been a while since something exciting has happened down here. I’ll let the customers know.”
He grabbed his keys and headed for the truck. He’d already called Uncle Jack and filled him in on the situation. The governor had promised to have his people ready to move the moment Beckett gave the word. Now it was just a matter of catching Clive in the act.
* * *
Marnie had already put in two hours of work before she drove into the studio that morning. A couple had scheduled their engagement pictures at sunrise, and she’d been out in the pristine snow with nothing but the mountains and the dawn light as her backdrop.
She was tired, but it was a good kind of tired. The kind that came from doing work she loved. And knowing that Beckett was handling things with Clive had lifted a weight from her shoulders she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying.
There was an open parking spot near the library. Thoughts of hot tea and reviewing the morning’s shots filled her mind as she walked toward the studio. She was past the sheriff’s office before she recognized the man standing outside her door.
“You’re late,” Clive said, straightening from where he’d been leaning against the building. “How are you supposed to run a successful business if you can’t show up on time?”
She stopped, studying him with fresh eyes. Months apart had put his image out of her mind, and now that she was face-to-face with him again, she wondered why she’d never really stopped to look at him before.
He was slick and smooth—like a politician—and you could hear the breeding and money in the way he talked and carried himself. She’d been so desperate for success, for validation, that she’d let herself be blinded by his sophistication.
Not anymore.
“I manage somehow,” she said evenly. Through the studio window, she could see Jenny at the reception desk, eyes wide. “What are you doing here, Clive?”
“I told you I’ve come to take you home.”
“I am home.”
“Then I’ve come to collect you and the artwork that belongs to me.”
“I’m not interested. Have a nice life.”
He stepped closer and grabbed her wrist, squeezing hard enough to make her gasp. “You don’t want to test me right now, Marnie. I own you. And I don’t care if I have to walk in there and rip every picture off the wall. They’re mine.”
Black dots danced in front of her eyes as he squeezed harder. It had been a long time since she’d felt pain like that, and her knees started to buckle.
“You’re going to want to let her go.” Beckett’s voice came from somewhere behind her. “And you’re going to want to do it right now.”
Relief flooded through her.
Clive looked over her shoulder. “This is none of your concern, cowboy. This is between me and my fiancée.”
“She’s not your anything. Now let her go, or I’ll make you.”
Clive released her wrist and she sucked in a deep breath, cradling her hand against her stomach. She leaned against the wall and waited for the nausea to pass. Doors to the shops had started to open and people were gathering on the sidewalks.
“What’s going on?” Blaze asked, stepping out of the sheriff’s office.
“I’ve got it under control,” Beckett said. “He was just leaving.”
Clive sneered. “You don’t know who I am, do you, cowboy?
I’m nobody to mess with. Especially when it comes to my property.
And this woman is my property. Signed, sealed, and delivered.
Marnie Whitlock is a household name in photography.
People pay hundreds of thousands of dollars for an original.
Every picture in that studio belongs to me.
The studio itself should belong to me too—it says in our contract that I’m the sole executor of all her business interests. ”
“Why don’t you tell them how you drew the papers up without my knowledge,” Marnie said, her voice steady despite the pain in her wrist. “How you forged my signature and had your attorney friends file the paperwork.”
“Prove it,” he said smugly. “Who’s going to believe a piece of trash from the wrong side of the tracks? You can’t fight me and win.”
“She’s not fighting alone,” Beckett said. “Do you want this handled, Marnie? Just say the word.”
“Yes. I want my life back. He’s not going to have power over me anymore.”
Clive laughed. “Sweetheart, we’re going to get married. That’ll seal everything up nice and tight. You know there’s no use resisting. I always get what I want.”
“Not this time,” Beckett said.
“Listen, cowboy. I don’t know who you are, but if you want to keep your job and your little house, I suggest you move along.”
“The ranch, the house, and a good part of the land you see belongs to me. You don’t intimidate me.”
Clive stepped forward until he was nose to nose with Beckett. “Then maybe you should worry about being able to do business in any of the fifty states again. I’m a powerful man with powerful friends. The governor of your state happens to be one of them. I will crush you.”
“Interesting you should mention the governor.” Beckett’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Seeing as he’s my uncle.”
For the first time, uncertainty flickered across Clive’s face.
“Start getting your things together,” Clive said to Marnie, though his voice had lost some of its edge. “We’re leaving tonight.”
“What part of ‘no’ don’t you understand?” Marnie stepped forward, ignoring the throbbing in her wrist. “I’m not going anywhere with you. You don’t own me. And I will fight you every step of the way.”
Clive spun and reached for her again, but Beckett moved faster. In an instant, he had Clive on his knees with his arm wrenched high behind his back.
“Lord, you must be hard of hearing,” Beckett said. He pulled out his phone and made a call, keeping his grip firm. “Uncle Jack,” Beckett said when the line connected. “I’ve got a situation here in town. Remember that man I told you about? Clive Wallace? He just showed up in Laurel Valley.”
He listened for a moment, then continued. “Yes, sir. He’s right here with me now. Grabbed Marnie’s wrist hard enough to leave bruises, in front of about a dozen witnesses. Before that, he was threatening to take her property and drag her back to Savannah against her will.”
Beckett glanced at Marnie, his expression softening briefly before hardening again as he looked down at Clive.
“That’s right—the same man who forged her signature on legal documents, committed fraud to gain control of her business and her artwork, and has been using those forged contracts to steal her earnings for years. ”
He put the phone to Clive’s ear. “Say hello to Governor Hamilton, Clive.”
Then he pulled the arm behind Clive’s back up higher, making him yelp into the phone.
Beckett took the phone back, almost smiling.
“You hear that, Uncle Jack? That’s the sound of a man who thought he could waltz into our town and threaten one of our own.
” He listened again. “Yes, sir. I appreciate it. I know you’ve had your people looking into his business practices since I called you. What did they find?”
The color drained from Clive’s face as Beckett listened to whatever his uncle was saying.
“Is that right?” Beckett’s eyebrows rose. “Tax evasion too? And they found evidence of the forged signatures?” He whistled low. “Well, that’s going to be a problem for Mr. Wallace, isn’t it?”
He crouched down so he was eye level with Clive, the phone still pressed to his ear. “Uncle Jack wants to know if you’d like to add anything before his friends at the FBI and the IRS finish their investigation. Apparently they’ve been building quite a file.”
Clive’s bluster had evaporated completely. He looked like a man watching his empire crumble.
“That’s what I thought.” Beckett stood. “Thank you, Uncle Jack. I’ll let Blaze know to expect a call from your office. Yes, sir. I will. She’s right here.” He paused, then smiled. “I’m planning on it. Soon as she’ll have me.”
He hung up and leaned down to speak quietly to Clive. “Here’s how this is going to go. You’re going to sign over every document you forged. You’re going to return every penny you stole from Marnie. And you’re going to pray that the federal charges don’t land you in prison for the next decade.”
“You can’t do this,” Clive said, but his voice had lost all its venom.
“It’s already done. The investigation started the day after Marnie told me what you did to her. Uncle Jack doesn’t take kindly to men who prey on women. Neither do I.”
“You have no idea who you’re dealing with,” Clive spat.
“I know exactly who I’m dealing with.” Beckett pulled him to his feet but didn’t let go. “You picked the wrong woman this time. Marnie had the strength to leave you, and you don’t know her at all if you think threats would bring her back. She’s survived a lot worse than you.”
He handed Clive off to Blaze. “Would you mind taking him? I need to have a word with my girl.”
Blaze took Clive’s arm. “Let’s head to my office and have a chat about how we treat people in Laurel Valley.”
As Blaze led Clive away, Beckett crossed to where Marnie stood and gathered her gently in his arms. She was shaking—from adrenaline, from relief, from a dozen emotions she couldn’t name.
“It’s over,” he said against her hair. “He can’t hurt you anymore.”
“I know.” She tightened her arms around him. “I knew the moment you showed up.”
He pulled back to look at her, his gray eyes soft. “How’s your wrist?”
“It’ll bruise. I’ve had worse.”
Something flickered in his expression—pain at the reminder of what she’d survived. But he didn’t dwell on it. Instead, he took her hands in his, mindful of the injured one.
“I had a whole speech planned,” he said. “Something about how I’ve loved you since I was nineteen. How I’ve waited fifteen years for you to come home. How every day with you has been better than the last.”
“Beckett…”
“But I think what I really want to say is simpler than that.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.
“I’ve been carrying this around for two weeks, waiting for the right moment.
And I just realized—there’s no such thing as the right moment.
There’s just this. You and me. Right here, right now. ”
He opened the box. Inside was a ring—simple and elegant, a diamond that caught the winter light.
“Marry me, Marnie. Be my family. Let me be yours.”
She was dimly aware that half the town was watching. That Jenny had come out of the studio and was crying. That Mrs. Baker was probably already on the phone spreading the news.
But none of that mattered. All that mattered was the man in front of her. The man who had waited for her. Who had believed in her when she couldn’t believe in herself. Who had shown her what it meant to be loved without conditions.
“Yes,” she whispered. Then louder, so everyone could hear: “Yes.”
He slid the ring onto her finger and pulled her into a kiss that made her forget they had an audience. When they finally broke apart, cheers erupted from the gathered crowd.
“About time!” someone shouted.
“When’s the wedding?” Mrs. Baker called.
Beckett grinned at Marnie. “What do you think? When’s the wedding?”
She looked at the ring on her finger, then back at him. “Spring. I don’t want to wait any longer than I have to.”
“Spring it is.” He kissed her again, softer this time. “Welcome home, Marnie.”
She leaned into him, feeling the solid warmth of his chest against her cheek, and smiled.
She was finally, truly home.