The Sheriff's Surrender (18 page)

Neely knew he was right. Leon Miller hadn't been a very likable man. He wouldn't have engendered trust or sympathy in the jurors, wouldn't have found any leeway with the judge.
She
hadn't liked him at all and she hadn't wanted him released. She just hadn't been able to watch him get convicted on the basis of a tainted confession and do nothing about it.

And so she had done something, and a violent man had gone free and an innocent woman had died.

She sank down on a nearby bale of hay. Oh, God, Reese had been right in all those arguments. Fairness had nothing to do with justice. In the bigger scheme of things, what did it matter if Leon Miller's rights were violated? He had been guilty. Period. No doubt about it. He should have gone to prison for a very long time. He should have been locked away like the uncontrollable animal he was.
That
would have been justice.

She covered her face with both hands, rubbing away the weariness there, then sighed. “I'm like a surgeon who meticulously repairs a minor cut without caring that the patient's got a severed artery. Sure, he'll bleed to death in a minute, but hey, look how neatly sutured that cut is. What did it matter that Judy and Leon both died that day? At least his civil rights weren't violated. To me, that was all that mattered.”

Reese sat beside her, his leg brushing hers. “That wasn't all that mattered to you,” he disagreed. It had been too important, in his opinion, but she'd cared about her cases—about her clients and their victims. She'd cared about justice, fairness and doing the right thing. She just hadn't realized that there wasn't always a right thing, that sometimes the choice was between the least wrong things, or that fairness for her client usually didn't translate into justice for their victims.

And he was no better—was worse, in fact. Her failing had been one of ideology. His had been a character flaw—the inability to accept responsibility and blame for what he'd done. The lack of courage to ignore the easy way out and instead take the honorable route. She'd been naive. He'd been a coward.

“I didn't know what was going on, Neely, I swear. If I had, I would have gone back.” He believed it—truly believed the threat against the woman he'd still loved would have overcome the guilt, the anger and everything else. He never would have allowed the harassment and the threats to continue.

She didn't say anything. Not,
I know
, or
I believe you.
Not,
Yeah, right, easy to say now.
She didn't point out that he didn't know because he'd left her in so dishonorable a way, or that he'd known what kind of men he'd worked with and should have known what they were capable of.

Honest to God, he hadn't. He'd known that they considered more than a few laws open to interpretation, that they were likely to let their buddies or the county's influential leaders slide by on minor offenses, that occasionally they misused their authority to give someone's ex a hard time. He'd known they weren't sticklers for following the letter of the law, and
that a few prisoners showed up for booking with bruises or a black eye they hadn't sported earlier. But he'd never believed, not for an instant, that one of them would deliberately shoot Neely in front of two dozen witnesses. The thought had never even crossed his mind that they would try to kill her, and in such a cold-blooded fashion.

For whatever it was worth, if they'd succeeded, and come bragging to him, he would have killed every last one of them with his bare hands. And then the State of Kansas could have locked him away forever, because he would have had nothing left to live for.

Neely swayed to one side, bumping his shoulder. “Remember when you were a kid, playing games, and you messed up your turn really badly, sometimes the other kids would let you call ‘do-over.'” She smiled regretfully. “I'd like a do-over on that part of my life. There are so many things I'd like to change…except you. The only thing I'd do differently with you is not give you a reason to leave me.”

“You didn't give me a reason. You didn't do anything in the Miller case that you hadn't done before.”

“I never got anyone killed before.”

Reese looked at her. She was one of the most capable career women he'd known, and yet somehow, except for that sad, regretful expression on her face, she looked as if she belonged beside him on a hay bale in his barn—to say nothing of in his house, in his chair, in his bed. She looked like the best thing to ever happen to him, and the biggest mistake he'd ever made, tied up in one. He wasn't sure he could survive another mistake with her.

“You've never gotten anyone killed,” he said quietly.

“There's plenty of blame to go around for that, and very little of it is yours.”

She smiled tightly, unconvinced, then they sat in silence for a time, until finally he stood. “Want to meet my horses?”

“Sure.”

He pulled her to her feet, then outside into the hot sun. Most of the pasture was fenced with barbed wire, but the sides sur
rounding the yard were board, old, warped, unpainted and worn to the same silvery gray as the barn. He rested his arms on the top rail, then pointed out each of the horses in turn. “That one over by the water is Lucky. The one pretending we're not here is Rio, and those two—” he gestured to two nearly identical geldings “—are Walker and Morgan…or Morgan and Walker. And that paint back there by himself is Rowdy.”

She mimicked his position, then rested her chin on her arms. “Which one do you ride?”

“All of them from time to time, but mostly Rio.”

“And which one did you let ‘Ride me, cowboy' use?”

“Rowdy. His name is deceiving.” He whistled, and the paint ambled over, in no hurry at all to answer the summons. Rowdy was the gentlest, most even-tempered and laziest of the bunch. He would never throw a rider, no matter how inept, because it would take too much energy.

But the paint surprised him. When Neely reached out to pet him, the gelding bared his teeth, tossed his head, then snapped at her.

“Hey, stop that.” Reese folded his hand around hers and pulled it back, then apologetically said, “He's usually not testy with women.” Or men, kids, pesky dogs or even horseflies.

“I suppose he warmed right up to ‘Hey, cowboy—' What
is
her name?”

He told her, and she snorted. “Isabella. Figures. The idiot warmed right up to her, didn't he?”

“Well…yeah. But she talked sweet to him.”

“He wasn't the only male she sweet-talked around here, was he?” she murmured sourly.

“No, he wasn't. And how many men have
you
sweet-talked in the past nine years? How many have you given that innocent, wicked, womanly waif look?”

She responded by looking at him in exactly that way. “We're talking about you, not me.”

“Actually, we're talking about Isabella.”

“Who has a thing for you.”

Reese called Lucky over, then moved to stand behind Neely, trapping her between him and the fence. Holding her hand, he stroked her fingers over the horse's nose, then his neck, then slowly eased his own hand back. Though he didn't need to stick close—no way Lucky was going to give up a good scratching in favor of a bite—he did, anyway, just because it felt so damn good. “You've never even met her. You heard
one
short message, and you think you know what she wants?”

“‘Hey, cowboy, this soreness will be gone in a day or two. When can you saddle me up for another go-round?'” she drawled in a passable imitation of Isabella's sultry, sexy voice.

“You honestly think she was talking about ol' Rowdy there?”

“You think?” He pretended to consider it. “Maybe I should see if she's free for dinner tonight.”

“Go right ahead. And maybe I won't hot-wire your sheriff's truck and take it for a spin.” She smiled that incredibly innocent smile. “I always did want to go a hundred and twenty miles an hour with lights flashing and siren blaring.”

“You don't know how to hot-wire an engine.”

“Look at the people I've dealt with in the past ten years. Car thieves, burglars, check kiters, prostitutes, murderers…I might have picked up all sorts of questionable skills.”

He wondered what she'd learned from the prostitutes and what it would take to persuade her to show him. He bent close to her ear and smelled the almond fragrance of her hair, the honeysuckle on her skin, the faint whiff of fabric softener from her dress, and a fainter, more tantalizing scent. Exotic, elusive, erotic. Neely herself.

“I don't believe you,” he murmured between deep breaths.

“If you could hot-wire my truck, you would have been gone a week ago.”

“Maybe I've just been waiting to catch you off guard,” she replied, then added, “I imagine
she
has all sorts of unspeakable skills.”

“Hmm.” Reese closed his eyes and breathed deeply of all
her scents, then choked the air out in a cough when she slapped his arm. “What was that for?”

“Nothing,” she replied with a sweet smile.

“Assaulting a police officer is a serious offense. I'd hate to have to slap the handcuffs on you and haul you in.”

“Liar.”

She was right—he was lying. He'd like nothing better than to haul her into the house, handcuff her to his bed and keep her there until this damnable need for her had been satisfied. When she turned to face him, he knew she wanted it, too, by the smoky haze that turned her eyes a softer brown, by the way her breathing had grown shallow and the way her lips parted, inviting his kiss. He didn't bother to look beyond those signals—didn't acknowledge the doubt in her eyes or the nervous flutter of her pulse. He refused to even see her hesitance, her reluctance, her uncertainty.

He just kissed her. Took her mouth. Tasted her. Teased her. Tormented himself. He backed her against the fence and held her there with his body, stroked her tongue with his, fed her desire with his. He was thinking about heat, lust, rolls in the hay, getting down and dirty, when a wet tongue slurped across his ear. For an instant he didn't know what to think, then regrettably the instant passed as the tongue made another swipe.

Jerking away from Neely, sputtering curses, he staggered back a few steps, then dragged his shirtsleeve across his ear and neck. “Damnation! What in the hell do you think you're doing?”

Neely looked bewildered, but beside her, Reese swore, Lucky looked as if he was grinning. Reese scrubbed harder at his ear as he glared at the animal. “It's a damned good thing you're already gelded, you worthless piece of horsemeat, because if you weren't, you would be by this time tomorrow.”

Lucky really did grin, then rubbed against Neely, who was trying her best not to laugh. He scowled at her, then more fiercely at the horse.

“Looks like you've got some competition for the girl's affection.”

Reese whirled around, automatically stepping in front of Neely, blocking her from view. He recognized his father's voice, of course. He was just surprised that Del had managed to sneak up on them without him hearing a thing. “Dad.”

“Son.” Del leaned to one side to see past him, but Reese didn't cooperate.

“Actually…” Neely slid out from behind him and smiled.

“I think
I've
got some competition for Reese's affection. Lucky was kissing
him
, not me. Hello, Mr. Barnett.”

Del clasped her hand in both of his, then pulled her into his arms. “Neely Madison! I didn't know… He didn't tell me…I can't tell you how glad I am to see you. You know, I'd always hoped you two would patch things up. You were the best thing ever happened to that boy, in my opinion.” He held her at arm's length for a quick look. “You were always a beautiful girl, but, darlin', you've grown into one hell of a beautiful woman—pardon my language. How about leaving the boy here and you and me running away together?”

Del Barnett could sweet talk with the best of 'em, Reese thought, but there was no exaggeration there. She
had
been the best thing in his life, and she was one hell of a beautiful woman.

“So…you're here to stay.” Del said it as fact. That was what he wanted, and so he wasn't open to other possibilities.

“We'll have to introduce you around. We can have a cookout this weekend—”

“Not so quick, Dad,” Reese interrupted, then changed the subject. “What brings you all the way over from Buffalo Plains?”

Del's smile dimmed and he became serious. “I wanted you to know before you heard it from someone else. Remember I told you I was thinking about getting married again? We set a date—the end of July. I brought her over so you two could start getting acquainted.”

Reese looked past him to the silver Mercedes barely visible in the driveway. “Where is she?”

“Waiting on the front porch. Come on.” He tucked Neely's hand in the crook of his arm and set off across the yard.

“She's gonna love you, Neely. A son, a daughter-in-law, maybe grandbabies real soon. I keep telling Reese, if he waits much longer, I'm gonna be too old to be a grandfather. If I'd known how stubborn he was going to be, he never would have been an only child.”

“I take after you, Dad,” Reese mumbled. “Except I don't marry every beautiful woman I meet.”

“I heard that, son.”

“I intended for you to,” Reese lied as he followed them up the steps to the deck.

At the back door, Del came to a sudden stop. “Now, son, you behave yourself. Be polite and respectful—”

“Dad, I've been through this before. And it may surprise you, but I pretty much behave all the time.” Though he sounded aggravated, he wasn't. He didn't mind his father's nagging, especially when it made Neely smile.

They filed through the house to the front door. Del went out, disappeared to the side for a moment, then reappeared. “Reese, Neely, say hello to the latest—and last—woman in my life.” He held out his hand and, after a pause, the future Mrs. Barnett laid her hand in his and stepped into view.