Bad Penny (32 page)

Then, to Cat’s disbelief, he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it gently, then let her go.

“I want you to know that never in my life have I met a woman with a heart as strong as yours. Your life has not been an easy one, but I believe you have lived it with honor. It has been a pleasure to meet you, and I wish you and your husband and your baby a very long and happy life.”

Cat shuddered. Despite her best effort, tears began to flow. “Aiyee…gato pequeno, now is not the time to weep.”

Cat couldn’t speak. Little cat. He’d called her little cat. She couldn’t think past the gentleness in his voice. Was this it? Was he letting this go?

Behind them, the door flew open, hitting the wall with a bang.

Luis turned in time to see a tall, angry-looking man coming toward them. His hair was dark and short and standing on end. His face was strong, with a jaw that gave away the presence of a very stubborn streak. Then he saw the man’s earring. A single gold hoop.

Outlaw?

Pirate?

“Wilson,” Cat said.

Luis sighed. Ah…of course…only a man like this could handle a woman such as Cat Dupree McKay.

Wilson stopped in front of Cat, cupped her cheek with one hand and tilted her head to look at the deep bruise and cut on her face. What he knew for a fact was that this Mexican detective was not taking his wife anywhere. He would have to kill Wilson first.

“Franks is dead?”

She nodded. “You have this man to thank.”

Wilson glared at Luis. “Thank you for saving my wife’s life. Did you also make her cry?”

Luis shrugged, then smiled. “Sometimes a woman cries because she’s happy,” he said, then added, “Mr. McKay, your wife is a most remarkable woman. It was my honor to meet her.”

Wilson wasn’t sure what had just happened, but he managed to answer in a civilized manner.

“Thank you. Now maybe you’d like to tell me why you’ve come all the way from Mexico to talk to my wife.”

Luis shrugged. “Most certainly. I was just tying up the loose ends of a case I’d been given. Your wife’s information was most helpful, and now I’m ready to go home.”

Wilson didn’t bother to hide his relief. Ever since Cat had told him who was there, he’d had visions of losing her to a Mexican jail.

“The sheriff will want to talk to you about the shooting. He’s on his way.” “Of course,” Luis said, and walked outside to await the officer’s arrival. The door slammed behind him as he left.

“Sweet lord,” Wilson whispered, and put his arms around Cat, then pulled her head down on his shoulder. “Oh, baby…I’m so sorry. That cut on your face is deep. Are you hurting? If you can’t wait for the ambulance, I can drive you to the E.R. myself.”

“No, it’s not that,” Cat said, and then started to sob.

He misunderstood. “I am so sorry that you had to go through this because of me.”

She was crying so hard she was shaking. “No, no, I’m not crying because of that dead piece of shit in the yard. I’m not even crying because my side hurts like hell.”

“Your side? What’s wrong with your side?” “Franks shot me.”

Wilson’s face drained of all color. He yanked up her shirt, saw the seeping blood and the makeshift bandage, and started cursing. Without stopping, he turned around, walked to the hall closet, took a pistol down from the shelf, jacked a shell into the chamber and stalked outside.

The deputy sheriff had arrived and was outside talking to Montoya. When he saw the gun in Wilson’s hand, he was a bit startled.

“Wilson…hey, Wilson. Wait up. What’s wrong? Where are you going?”

But Wilson wasn’t talking. Rage was evident in every step he took. He circled the house with the men hurrying behind him. When he got to

Jimmy Franks’s body, he didn’t pause, he just aimed the gun and shot. The bullet went through the body and into the ground. Wilson put the safety back on and turned around. “What?” he asked.

“What in hell did you do that for?” the deputy asked. “Because of what he did to Catherine.”

Even as Luis knew he’d made the right decision regarding Cat, he was suddenly glad he hadn’t had to contend with her husband, either.

“But he was already dead,” the deputy said.

“Not dead enough,” Wilson muttered. “I want his sorry ass to know that he’s going to hell with a piece of my lead in him, too. And while I’m at it, where is that ambulance? Cat’s been shot. Don’t make me have to take her all the way into Austin in that kind of pain.”

Then he walked back into the house. The deputy looked at Luis.

“Uh…excuse me a minute. I need to double check on that ambulance.”

“You have my name, phone number, badge number and statement. If you need more, I will be at the Austin hotel I mentioned earlier until noon tomorrow,” Luis said, then got in his car and drove away.

Cat was still crying, but it was from relief. Finally, after all the years of living with the thirst for revenge, it was well and truly over.

Wilson came back in the house, put the gun on the shelf and took Cat in his arms.

“I heard a gunshot,” she said. “What happened?” “I put a slug in Jimmy Franks.”

“But he was already dead.”

“Not dead enough. Not until I gave him something to take with him.”

“Oh, Wilson…I don’t know how I got through life without you,” Cat said, then grabbed her side, moaning softly as pain shot through her body again.

Muttering beneath his breath, Wilson picked her up and carried her to their bedroom. She wept with every step he took, which broke his heart.

“Catherine…baby…Oh God, please don’t cry. I’m so sorry this happened. I’m so sorry you were hurt.”

“That’s not why I’m crying,” she managed to say, and then shuddered, swept by a fresh wave of tears and relief. “He knew, Wilson. He knew, and he did nothing.”

Wilson sat down on the side of the bed beside her, holding her hand. “The ambulance will be here soon. Just hang on, honey.”

Cat groaned. “Wilson. Listen to me.”

Wilson stilled. “What?”

“He knew. Montoya knew everything about Tutuola and figured out what I’d done. I saw it in his eyes, and still he did nothing. He just kissed my hand and walked away. It’s over. Finally everything is over. Franks is behind us. Tutuola’s death is behind us. Ever since my father’s death, his face has been like a bad penny in my head, always turning up when I least expected it, never able to forget, never able to stop hating—not even for you.”

Wilson sighed. All he could think was, Thank God, thank God. In the distance, he could hear a siren.

“The ambulance is coming.”

“Good. Tell them to give me drugs. It hurts like hell.”

Wilson grinned. This was his Cat. This was the woman who’d stolen his heart.

“I’ll tell them, baby…have no doubt. I’ll tell them to give you whatever you want or they’ll answer to me.”

“Is your dad okay?”

“Yeah. Guess why he had the heart attack? He had his own run-in with Franks. Franks shot at him, and Dad wanted to warn me. Unfortunately, it came too late to help you.” Then his eyes darkened. “Dad’s going to be fine. I should have been here with you.”

“However it went down, it’s all good now. Your dad will come home. Life will go on. You should call your parents, let them know everything is okay.”

“They’ll know soon enough. Right now, you’re my only concern.” There was a knock on the door.

“That’ll be the EMTs. Hang on. I’ll be right back.”

Cat watched Wilson run out of the room, then closed her eyes against the pain. As she did, the images of her parents’ faces suddenly slid through her mind. Always before, when she’d dreamed of them, it had been of the last horrible images that had been burned into her brain.

Her mother’s still, lifeless face, staring blindly through a shattered windshield. Her father’s face twisted in mortal agony.

But not now. This time they were smiling at her.

She could hear the sound of Wilson’s voice and the hurried clip of his boots on the floor as he came running—running back to her. Epilogue

Two little boys were slinging mud at each other from a puddle beneath their swing set.

Their mother was sitting on the back porch of an old, two-story ranch house, watching their impromptu war with humor and patience.

The baby in her arms stirred. The woman pushed off with the toe of her shoe, setting the old rocker into motion again. As she did, the baby settled.

“Sleep well, little girl. There will be plenty of time for running and playing when you’re older.”

The baby stuffed her little fist into her mouth, sucked it once, then sighed, her dark eyelashes fluttering on her cheeks as she slept, lost in whatever it was that constituted a baby’s dreams.

A black truck was coming across the back pasture.

The woman paused, her gaze moving instantly to the man behind the wheel.

He’d followed her through hell and brought her to this place—to her heaven on earth. And even now, after five years, the sound of his footsteps on the back porch still made her heart leap. The touch of his

hand in the middle of the night brought her to quiet ecstasy. The pride in his voice as he spoke of her and their children could bring tears to her eyes.

The truck pulled up on the outside of the yard fence and parked.

The two little boys, filthy from head to toe, stopped throwing mud at each other and screamed in delight.

“Daddy! Daddy! You’re home.”

He was laughing at them as he caught them up in his arms, mud and all, and carried them back toward the house and the woman waiting on the steps with their daughter in her arms.

“Daddy’s home,” he said softly, and leaned forward, kissed the baby’s soft cheek, then kissed the woman on the lips.

Quick.

Hard.

For a brief moment their gazes met. And above the noise and the mess, a silent understanding came and went.

It had been love that brought them to this moment in their lives, and it would be love that got them through the years to come.

It would always be about the love.

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ISBN: 978-1-4268-2365-7 BAD PENNY

Copyright © 2008 by Sharon Sala.

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