Tall, Dark and Cowboy (27 page)

She might die, but she would not faint. She’d go down fighting. Her hands trembled, but she kept the shotgun aimed at Wade’s chest. If he thought it was loaded, he’d think this was a Mexican standoff, each of them armed. She fixed her eyes on his trigger finger, waiting for it to twitch, wondering if she could dodge a speeding bullet.

Chase climbed the wall of the ravine, placing his feet carefully, praying he wouldn’t miss a foothold and slide to the bottom. As he neared the top, a faint shout rose up, and then the roar of a shotgun split the night and chased away any possibility of sensible thought.

He set off for the cabin at a run.

He could see the cabin. There was sedan parked outside it with its headlights on, and he could hear voices first talking, then shouting. He put on a burst of speed, concentrating on his feet, willing them to slap the ground harder, faster, willing himself to fly, fly to Lacey.

He was closing in on the cabin when the sedan pulled a quick K-turn and headed straight toward him, almost blinding him with its lights. It swerved and passed him, going way too fast.

Somebody was running away. Maybe Lacey had managed to protect herself after all.

He kept on running, his breath burning in his chest, his thigh muscles aching. He was probably too late, but he couldn’t slow down. Couldn’t stop and take a chance that he’d fail Lacey. He dodged a clump of sagebrush and concentrated on his feet. A fall would mean a delay, and a delay could mean death. He stared at the ground as he ran, barely able to see his feet in the darkness. The stars that had lit the world the night before were dim behind a cover of clouds that cloaked the prairie in darkness so deep he could barely see his own feet.

He slowed to a stealthier pace as he approached the cabin, trying to move quickly but quietly while he took in the sounds coming from the other side of the small building. Footsteps, curses, and heavy breathing had given way to an ominous silence, but at least there hadn’t been any more gunshots. He pulled the revolver out and clutched it in his fist as he carefully shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

As he approached, the windowless side of the cabin was in shadow while the rest of the landscape was lit with fans of light that spread from the windows and door. He caught a hint of movement against the dark wall and paused, squinting as if that would help his eyes probe the darkness.

Someone was there, standing against the cabin wall. A man, his back against the wall by the corner. One hand was at his side; the other was raised and held a pistol at the ready. He was moving slowly, preparing to edge around the corner.

Somewhere beyond that corner was Lacey.

He heard the ominous pump of a shotgun in the distance, but it was Lacey’s voice that followed.

“Don’t move,” she said. “Stay right there.”

His heart surged with joy at the knowledge that she was alive, then squeezed tight, wincing at the thin, frightened sound of her voice. But if she was telling someone not to move, she must have some way to enforce the command. She couldn’t have a gun; everything but the pistol in his hand had been locked up safely before Annie arrived.

He edged sideways, steering clear of the beams of light streaming from the windows, and Lacey came into view around the backside of the house. She was standing next to something on the ground, a hump in the darkness that might be a body or might be a rock. She had a shotgun snugged against her shoulder, aimed at a man who was standing behind the cabin.

Chase wondered where she’d gotten the gun. He’d heard a blast from it earlier, so there was a good chance it was empty unless she’d somehow managed to reload. He took a few steps closer and peered at the figure at her feet. She took a step away from it and light fell across it. It was Galt, lying on his back and staring sightless at the sky. The pain that pierced Chase’s heart at the thought of his old neighbor dying surprised him. Somehow, delivering the old man’s dinner had linked them together, made Chase responsible for him. Pam had been right—you had to help somebody. If the old man was dead, there’d be a hole in Chase’s life that would be surprisingly hard to fill.

But he didn’t have time to think about that now. Lacey’s face was white, but her little chin was jutted out in determination, and she never took her eyes off the man in front of her: Simpson. If that gun was loaded, Chase didn’t doubt she’d shoot the guy if she had to. And considering that Wade was aiming a handgun at her, she really did have to.

The fact that she hadn’t pulled the trigger made him almost sure the gun was empty. So he was the one who had to shoot. But he couldn’t shoot around corners, and he couldn’t afford to miss. He had to get closer.

He glanced back at the figure in the shadows just in time to see it step into the light.

Cody.

Chase lifted his gun and stared through the sights at his friend’s wide shoulders. Cody had been with the woman in the diner, and now he was here—with Wade. Right now the gun was at his side, but it would take only seconds for him to lift it and shoot Lacey.

Shoot Lacey? Would Cody do that?

Chase shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs that seemed to have taken over his brain. Cody wouldn’t shoot her. Would he?

In a flash, he remembered his friend sitting at the table with Janice, looking up with a guilty, hunted look. Remembered him lying about the cut finger to avoid answering questions. Remembered the way he’d disappeared, left the diner right at the time he could have overheard Chase talking to Annie and realized Lacey was alone in the woods.

Chase clenched his teeth. Cody was on the wrong side of this fight. He lifted the revolver and took aim. He’d been wrong to trust Cody. Wrong to think he could trust anybody.

But then there was the way the guy looked at Pam when he didn’t realize anyone was watching. The way he tried to help Annie with her homework even though Chase doubted he had much of an education himself. The way he came running when anybody needed him.

He
has
a
rescue
complex.

That’s what Chase had told Lacey, and it was true.

He
kind
of
restored
my
faith
in
human
nature… he’s just… just good.

It had to be true—because if Cody turned on him, the world would turn to shit. If Cody was one of the bad guys, Chase wouldn’t be able to trust anybody, least of all himself and his own instincts.

But he couldn’t risk Lacey’s life to blind faith, could he? He was her protector, her champion. If he made the wrong choice now, he’d fail her. Just like he’d failed her the day she’d arrived, when he’d struck out at her, afraid to trust. Afraid to let even the woman he’d loved all his life into his world.

He lowered the gun and took a few steps forward. When the dry grass crunched under his feet, Cody whirled to face him, and in an instant, he knew he’d chosen right. His friend’s white teeth flashed in the moonlight in a relieved smile the moment he caught sight of him.

“Bro,” he whispered. “’Bout time you got here. Come on. Let’s take out this son of a bitch.”

***

Lacey’s arm was starting to shake. She didn’t know if it was muscle fatigue from holding up the shotgun or fear of meeting Wade’s eyes. Maybe it was tension from watching his expression for the slightest twitch that might mean he was about to pull the trigger.

All she knew was that she couldn’t hold out much longer. Eventually Wade would realize she wasn’t going to shoot, and he’d end the standoff with a bullet. Even worse, he might realize her gun wasn’t loaded. Then he’d simply take it from her and proceed with whatever he’d had in mind when she’d managed to grab the gun.

At least she was still upright and breathing, holding panic at bay. That proved she’d beaten the fear. If she could stare down Wade Simpson without blinking, she could do anything.

Her eyes welled with tears, making the image of Wade and his gun shift and waver. Unfortunately, she’d never get the chance to do anything. Ever again. She couldn’t see a way to survive this. She was as good as dead.

She’d never get to live that independent life she’d envisioned. Never get to make up for all the years she’d wasted. Never get to hold Chase, to be friends with Pam, to be Annie’s favorite aunt. She’d never get the chance to help anyone, ever.

A rustle to her right startled her out of her self-pity, and she glanced over to see two figures in the shadows. Two men. Their presence had barely registered before a shot rang out and one man slammed into Wade, knocking him to the ground. The pistol flew into the darkness as a flurry of fists hit her tormentor like a hurricane. The sickening crunch of fist smacking bone sounded half a dozen times before Wade went limp.

Lacey went limp too as the world spun and her breath caught in her chest. She’d faced down death without panicking, but now that it was over, she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, couldn’t stand. She dropped the shotgun and buried her face in her hands, her breath rasping painfully in her chest.

Moments later, she was lying on the ground with someone bending over her. She blinked, trying to bring the face into focus.

“Shh.” It was Chase. “You’re all right. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“Not now,” she said. “But there was. I thought he was going to…”

She couldn’t finish.

“He won’t,” Chase said. “He won’t ever. He’s going away for a long time, Lacey, and he’ll never bother you again. And Trent testified. It’s over.”

The rush of relief told her more about her fear than the panic attacks ever had. Without Wade out there, stalking her, the world suddenly seemed safe. Especially right here, right now, with Chase bending over her and Cody behind him, knotting the barely conscious Wade’s wrists behind his back with Captain’s reins.

“Galt,” Lacey said, glancing over at the huddled figure of the old man. “Oh my God, Galt. I think they killed him.”

“They didn’t kill me.” Galt sat up, putting a hand to his head and staring at it when it came away bloody. “What do you think I am, some kind of pansy? They just knocked me out, that’s all. It’s nothing.”

The old man struggled to his feet. Blood streaked the side of his face, but his eyes were glimmering hard and mean as ever as he held out a grasping hand. “Give me my gun. I’ll shoot the whole lot of you.” He stomped toward the front of the cabin and pointed down at the dirt. “Look at that. All those ruts from your goddamn four-wheelers. Ruined my perfectly good land.”

Chase decided now was not the time to argue the merits of Galt’s played-out acreage. “Sorry, sir, but you’re hurt. We need to get you to a doctor.”

Galt shrugged him off. “I’m fine.”

“Just let us drive you home, then. I’ll get the truck.”

“All right,” Galt muttered. “Didn’t have dinner yet. Guess we’re skipping it tonight. Guess it doesn’t matter to any of you if an old man starves to death.”

“It’s just going to be late, that’s all. I’ll get the truck.” Cody grabbed the keys from Chase. “You stay with Lacey.”

When the pickup’s headlights fell across Galt’s face, Chase realized how pale the man was. Wade and Janice really had almost killed him, and yet the man was worrying about dinner. Old age and grief had shriveled Galt up like a strip of rawhide, but it had toughened him too.

“I’m driving you home. Then we’ll see about dinner.” Chase seized Galt’s arm in a no-nonsense grip that didn’t allow argument. “Let’s bury the hatchet for tonight, okay?”

“I’ll bury the hatchet,” Galt muttered. “Bury it right in your goddamn head.”

Lacey laughed, and though there was an edge of hysteria to it, there was still a note of the carefree girl she’d been. She’d laughed a lot when he first knew her, but he realized now he hadn’t heard her laugh in the whole time she’d been at the ranch.

The thought made him ache. She’d never learn to like it. She’d been miserable there.

She was safe, she was free, and now she could live the life she wanted. But he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be around to watch.

“I’m used to a hot dinner,” Galt grumbled. Lacey had done her best with the sandwich meat Pam had stocked in his refrigerator for emergencies, but he poked at his meal like she’d served him day-old roadkill. “Don’t like ham, neither.”

“Well, I’m sorry we can’t feed you in the style to which you’ve become accustomed,” Chase said. “But you might remember it was me who got you accustomed to it.”

“Wasn’t you,” Galt said. “Your sister made you do it.”

Chase turned to Cody, who was slouched in a dinette chair, his eyes fixed on the TV. The guy had spent two hours closeted with the state cops. They’d spent as much time with him as the had with Lacey.

There was something going on with the guy. He’d come through tonight, but doubt had been simmering in Chase’s mind for months, doubt and guilt. He shouldn’t have taken Pam’s word for it that the guy was trustworthy. He wasn’t protecting his sister or his niece the way he should. It was obvious Cody had a past, possibly a shady one.

“Speaking of my sister, I need some answers from you,” he said. “How did you know that woman, anyway?”

“I didn’t.” Cody shifted uncomfortably. “Not until that day in the café. I guess Wade did a background check and he, um, found out some stuff about me. She was working with Wade, ’cause her father was involved in the whole scam and she was trying to protect his reputation. He’s some senator or something.”

“Senator Carrol? She’s his daughter?” Lacey asked.

Cody nodded. “So Wade sent her to talk to me. She threatened to tell—well, never mind. I told her no.”

“Threatened to tell what?” Lacey slid into a chair beside Galt and picked up her sandwich.

Cody slumped, staring down at his meal. “I was in some—some trouble before I came to Grady. They knew about it, and they said they’d tell Pam about it if I didn’t tell them where Lacey was.”

“You told them?” Chase’s head spun. This was exactly the answer he’d feared. If Cody had betrayed Lacey, he’d have to cut his friend out of his life—his life and his sister’s. But the prospect looked a lot more difficult close-up.

“No.” Cody flipped off the top piece of bread and plucked a lettuce leaf off the sandwich, setting it aside. “I didn’t. I told them to fuck themselves. I don’t know how they found her, but it wasn’t me. I’d never do that.” He replaced the bread and lifted the sandwich, but his appetite seemed to have failed him, and he set it down without taking a bite.

“So what did you do?”

“Nothing.” Cody shoved his chair back from the table. “I told you, I didn’t tell them. Come on, man, what do you want?”

“I want to know what you did before you came to Grady. I don’t know why Pam trusts you with Annie when we don’t know a damn thing about you.”

“That’s Pam’s choice.” Cody rose to his feet, and Chase was surprised to notice how he filled the small kitchen. He wasn’t particularly tall, but he had an imposing presence hidden under his goofy, joking demeanor—a subtle, simmering strength Chase had never really noticed before. “I don’t have to tell you anything.”

“Look, I trust you,” Chase said. “I’m not going to fight you over it or anything. I’d just feel better if I knew.”

“Okay. Okay.” Cody blew out an aggravated breath. “But it stays here, okay? I’m not supposed to tell anyone. Pam’s the only one who knows, and that’s ’cause she wouldn’t have anything to do with me until she was sure she could trust me with Annie.”

Chase nodded, and Lacey followed suit. Galt just kept on eating, ignoring Cody’s stare.

“He doesn’t talk to anybody anyway,” Chase said, nodding toward the old man. “Shoot.”

“Okay,” Cody said. “I was a cop.”

“A cop? Buddy, you’ve got a knife tattooed on your chest.”

“Undercover. I busted a bunch of dealers in Texas, and they figured out it was me who got them popped. Feds sent me out here so they wouldn’t kill my ass.” He grinned, and suddenly he was back to being the Cody Chase knew. It all made sense now. The rough exterior, the good-guy heart.

“Witness Protection loves towns like this.” Cody turned to Lacey. “You made a good choice for a hiding place.”

“Not good enough.”

“No, but that Simpson guy would have found you wherever you went. That was one sick, determined dude. What’d you do to him, anyway?”

“I said no.”

“Figured it was something like that.”

“I’m surprised he never killed anybody,” Chase said.

Lacey put down her sandwich. “He did.” She stared down at her plate, and when she looked back up her eyes held such a heartbreaking combination of sorrow and pity that he wanted to take her in her arms and comfort her.

But then he realized the pity was for him.

“He did,” she whispered. “Your dad.“Your dad didn’t commit suicide.”

She was looking at Chase like she expected him to yell or throw something or break down and cry, but all he felt was relief flooding into his heart and breaking down years of shame, distrust, and despair. He’d known his father would never take his own life. Everyone else figured losing the land would be enough to make his dad fall apart, but Chase had known he was stronger than that.

“He confessed,” Cody said. “With a little encouragement. He’s a talker, that one.” A faint shadow of his usual grin crossed his face, but he sobered immediately.

“Your dad figured out Bradford was bribing government officials. What he didn’t know was that some of the cops were part of it too. When he called the police, Simpson told him to meet him at the barn. And… well. His expression hardened and Chase got a glimpse of the cop under the carefree facade.”

“Don’t worry. He’ll pay. He’s going away for a long time.”

***

When they finally got home, the ranch kitchen looked the same as it had when Lacey had left it hours before, but somehow it seemed warmer. Maybe it was the golden glow of the light fixture over the sink, or the contrast with the starkness of Galt’s cabin. Maybe it was the fact that she’d almost fallen to whatever fate Wade had in mind for her, and she was just glad to be alive.

Or maybe it no longer felt like a prison, because Trent had testified and she was free to stay or go, whichever she chose.

She looked at the bare window and remembered the scraps of curtain dangling at the windows of Galt’s cabin, the homey touches that had seemed so out of place on the wide, vacant plains. Someone had made that lonely outpost a home.

She wondered about the woman who had hung the curtains. Had she chosen a life on the land? Loved the wide-open spaces? Or had she loved a man who lived there and sacrificed her own way of living to stay with him?

She remembered Chase’s words the last time they’d been in this room.
I
love
you. I always have. I always will.
The fact that this quiet, private man was willing to put his feelings into words—frank, honest, almost desperate words—meant he was ready to sacrifice almost anything to make their relationship work.

But she was almost as desperate to escape it.

It was his own fault, really. It wasn’t that she hadn’t forgiven him for his harsh words on her first day in Grady; it was that the words had sunk into her soul, scarred her heart, twisted her bones.

Go
sell
yourself
to
someone
else.

Deep down, she’d known she wasn’t living an independent life—but she’d always thought she’d climb out of the ditch Trent had stuck her in somehow, get that real estate license, and start a new life at the heart of her hometown, helping families find homes. Making a difference.

But the truth was, she’d never made an effort to make any of that happen. She’d belonged to her father first, then Trent. And now she was having a hell of a time resisting the temptation to belong to Chase.

When he came up behind her, his voice was as honeyed and warm as the sunlight streaming in the window. His chest brushed her shoulder blades, and his arm swept around her waist.

“Lacey.”

She closed her eyes and gripped the edge of the counter as his lips swept over the hollow just behind and below her ear, stirring the fine tendrils spilling from her knotted hair and raising a chill on her skin even as she warmed from the inside.

She turned, thinking she’d press her hands to his chest and push him away, but his lips traced her jawline and found her lips and she fell into him instead, just like she’d fallen into her trophy wife life back in Conway. It would be easy to let Chase carry her away, take her to bed, take her into his life and fold love and comfort around her like a soft flannel blanket.

“Chase,” she said. “Wait. We need to talk.”

His lips brushed hers. “Not after that kiss. We need to finish what we started.”

He turned her away from the window, waltzing her backward across the kitchen floor while he kissed the corner of her mouth, the swell of her cheekbone, the soft spot at her temple. They were halfway down the hallway before resistance crossed her mind, and they hit the bed before the thought fully formed.

“We can talk tomorrow, Lacey. We can do whatever you want. Just give me this—give
us
this—for now.” He hiked himself up on his elbows and looked down at her. “I thought I’d lost you. I thought he might have…” He shuddered. “I can’t imagine the world without you in it.”

She smiled. “You lived without me all that time. You’ll be fine.”

He shook his head slowly, emphatically. “No. Not without you. Even back before you came to Grady, I knew you were there in Conway, and that was all I needed. I never thought…” He bent and kissed her cheek, brushing her hair away from her face. “I never thought I’d have you here. But I don’t ever want to live in a world without you in it. You don’t have to be with me. You just have to
be.
”

She wondered for a half-second how she’d wound up sprawled on the bed beneath him, but she loved the way he was looking at her, and suddenly she didn’t wonder anything except how she’d ever be able to leave him.

He was an honest man, and when he’d said he loved her, he meant he loved her forever.
I
don’t do flings
. That statement defined him, his serious view of the world, his loyalty, and his love. She could depend on him the rest of her life, whether she stayed or left. It was her choice.

She looked up into his eyes and felt all her resolutions wavering, fading in the light of his love.

“I’ll think about it tomorrow,” she said.

The quote from Scarlett somehow separated this moment from the rest of their lives. She felt like she was hovering in the space between her old self and something new, a space that didn’t have anything to do with who she was or what mattered or what she could, would, or should do. This moment was about her and Chase. Nothing else.

“You’re not falling, Lacey,” he said. “You’re flying. It’s just that you’re flying toward me.”

She reached up and set her palm against his chest, savoring the warmth of his skin, the slow, steady beat of his unchangeable heart. “No,” she said. “I’m falling. But that’s okay.”

He kissed her again, and she felt like she really was falling, out of the world and into love. Grady, the ranch, the horses, the horror she’d been through with Wade—it all seemed small and distant compared to the feelings for Chase that were warming her from the inside out. She closed her eyes and let go of everything but the feeling of being with him, the sensation of touching and being touched.

He pulled away from the kiss and sat up, stroking her hair once more before he set to work on her blouse. His eyes were serious as he undid the delicate buttons and pulled the thin fabric aside. Her jeans were next. As he frowned over the button fly, the touch of his fingers made her close her eyes and toss her head. He was hurried and clumsy, and she finally helped him, shimmying her hips to reveal the thin lace panties she’d put on that morning. It seemed like it had been days since morning when she’d sorted through her suitcase, picking and choosing, passion and rebellion building low in her stomach as she thought about what to wear.

He slipped his hand under the lace just like she’d hoped he would, and her body sparked and flared, thrilling at his touch. She was ready, more than ready, but he seemed determined to take his time, tugging the panties slowly down her legs, then going to work on the clasp of her bra. She wanted to help him—hell, she wanted to rip her clothes off and jump his bones—but he seemed so mesmerized by the revelation of her bare skin that she let him do it his way.

But his way seemed to consist of removing her clothing unbearably slowly, and then staring at what he’d revealed. Running his hands over it until her skin prickled and her nipples peaked and ached, and then staring some more. She’d never felt so appreciated, but she was frustrated too.

“Please, Chase. I thought you wanted to finish what we started.”

“I do. But I want to take my time.” He lifted her bra away, first one cup then the other, and slid the scrap of lace off the bed and onto the floor. Running his hand down the slope of her breast, he swept his palm over the hard-budded nipple and traced the ripples of her ribs and the soft swell of her belly. She opened herself to his touch as his hand slid down into the valley between her legs, but it only brushed her curls and kept on going, stroking the muscles of her thighs, the soft spot behind her knees, the tender arch of her foot.

“I thought you wanted to finish it
today
,” she said.

“I don’t want to ever finish it,” he murmured. He stroked the arch of her foot with one finger, and she wanted that finger everywhere, on her and inside her, especially inside her, where she was welling over with hot slick heat, anticipating what was coming.

At least it was coming eventually.

Chase sat up beside her, still serious, and moved one hand over her breast, cupping it in his palm running his thumb over the nipple. Bending down, he licked the slick aureole, his tongue teasing the hard peak before he closed his lips around it and sucked gently, his tongue still swirling over her skin in a complicated dance that made nerves dance at the surface of her skin, flickering signals running from her nipples all the way down to the ache between her legs.