Beholden (35 page)

Nick replaced the receiver, got up, and poured himself a generous splash of Jim Beam. He tossed it back, then grimaced. He
could make another call or two, but would it get him anywhere? Feeling chilled despite his warm robe and the booze, he sat
back down and riffled through the messages the boys had taken for him while he’d been gone.

One stood out, making him sit up straighter. The idea came to him slowly, but surely. He smiled. Yeah, it just might work.
No, it
had
to work. He had to get Sam out of that hellhole. Thoughtfully, he crushed out his cigarette in the glass ashtray.

Getting up, he went into his bedroom, feeling better than he had in hours. Tomorrow, he would make his move.

“So, what do you think?” Terry asked, holding up two packages of hair dye. “Should I go light brown or dark?”

Luke looked up from the kitchen table where he’d been cleaning his guns. “I don’t think you should bother with either. Your
hair’s growing out just fine.”

Terry’s brows raised in question. “Just a few days ago, everyone wanted me to surgically alter my face. Now you
don’t even want me to change the color of my hair? What’s going on?”

Luke went back to his oily rag. “I don’t plan on taking you off this mountain until the trial date. And then we’ll probably
get a helicopter in and fly home that way. So there’s no need.” He’d made this decision in the middle of the night, lying
in bed holding her. He was taking no chances he didn’t have to take.

“You mean we can’t even go into town, to have a meal or to shop, until this is over?”

“What for? We have enough supplies here to last quite awhile. It’ll be over soon. I talked with Bob and he’s working on getting
the case moved up on the docket.”

She pulled out a chair opposite him and sat down. “What if someone drives up here and sees me?”

“They won’t get close enough to see you.” Squinting, he peered into the barrel of the gun, checking for clearance. “I’ll blow
them away before they get too near.”

“You’re kidding, I hope.”

His eyes slid to hers. “You think so?”

Hers widened. “You mean you’d actually shoot someone to protect me?”

“In a New York minute, honey. That’s what this is all about.” He gave her a tight smile. “But don’t worry, because no one
will come up here.”

The shock of it had her reeling. “You mean someone like Nick Russo or Ozzie Swain, or one of their men, right? You wouldn’t
shoot a stranger who wandered off course, would you?” Did she know this man at all, this man she’d been sleeping with, sharing
her body with, giving her heart to?

“Depends.” He held the Luger, balancing it in one hand as if testing the weight. “If I couldn’t persuade him to leave, I might
have to use one of these to convince him.”

He sounded so cold-blooded, so menacing. Even in bed, she’d noticed that the predator in Luke was held in check only by his
iron control. She remembered the incident in the
drugstore, when the distraught mother had called for help with her small son. Luke’s first instinct had been to grab Terry
and run. She’d had to persuade him that there was no devious plot, that they had to try to save that child. At times, they
were miles apart in their thinking. Where she sensed mostly good, even after all that had happened to her, he always saw something
sinister.

He’d lived his entire life on the edge with danger a constant companion, even in his early years. Terry sensed an ever-present,
dormant anger in him and wondered if it was something Luke could ever overcome.

From the beginning, she’d suspected nothing permanent would ever come of their relationship. Instinctively, she’d known that
loving a man like Luke Tanner, who thrived on a violent profession, was something most women would have trouble adjusting
to. Brought up in a devoted home and knowing only kindness and affection all of her life, his way was foreign to her.

Yet, Lord, how she wanted him, how she loved him, even though, if a miracle happened and things worked out, she wondered if
she could accept his way of life.

A moot question, for it wasn’t going to happen, she reminded herself, watching him slip the .38 back into his beltline. Wearing
a gun was as much a part of him as the color of his eyes. “You’re never going to give up this line of work, are you, Luke?”
she asked softly.

He shrugged, wondering what to say since he wasn’t sure of the answer himself. “You’re thinking I’m addicted to guns and issuing
orders and playing cops and robbers?”

“Aren’t you?”

“Only on assignment. I’m different at my ranch. I’m relaxed there, no responsibilities, no one to guard or criminals to watch
out for. Only me and my dog and hard physical work.”

She didn’t buy it. “Tell me, do you have a gun on your person even as you’re working around your ranch?”

Slowly, his eyes met hers. “I’ve pissed off a lot of people in my day, put a lot of guys behind bars, some of whom serve their
time and get released. Anyone persistent enough could find me. Should I be a sitting duck for every dirtbag who wants to settle
a score?”

Terry shook her head. “No, of course not. But you see what I mean? Even when you’re not officially on a case, you’re always
on guard. You have to be. The danger never ends.”

He placed the Luger in the shoulder holster he rarely used, then leaned back. He saw an opportunity and knew he’d be a fool
not to take it. “That’s right, it never ends. Never will. That’s why I live alone, why no one could live with me. That’s why
everyone I’ve ever known who tried to live with me left. They were smart to do so.” He stood, picking up the holster, his
eyes cool as he looked at her. It was time he laid it out for her, time he set her straight. Wanting her with him wasn’t enough,
wasn’t right for her. He’d have to let her go and there was only one way. “Let that be a lesson to you, Terry. Don’t build
your dreams around me.”

She blinked against her first reaction, not wanting him to see how deeply he’d plunged in the knife. “What if I already have?”

Luke huffed out a sigh. “You shouldn’t have. You don’t know me, not really. I come with a ton of baggage, all of it bad. There’s
a reason why all those people left me. If you lived with me long enough, you’d find out why. And you’d leave, too. It’s just
a matter of time.”

She frowned, truly astonished. “Is that really what you think, that I’d leave, too?” It was a thought that hadn’t occurred
to her full blown until now. “Is that why you’re pulling back? Your job isn’t the real reason for this, is it? It’s your background,
your past. But you forget that I’ve lived with you for months now, under the worst possible circumstances. What more could
I discover that would turn me away?”

He shook his head, annoyed that he’d somehow lost control of the conversation. “You wouldn’t understand if I told you.”

“I won’t understand or you can’t think of a good explanation?”

That made him mad. “All right, I’ll explain. I’m probably more like my dear old dad than I like to think. Walk away from commitments
without a backward glance. Pursue my own agenda and to hell with what anyone else wants. I’m selfish, egocentric, and self-indulgent.
And I’m not about to change.”

His assessment was way off. “That’s not so. You help others in everything you do. Daily, you risk your life for the person
you’re protecting. You give up being at your ranch which you enjoy to help others. You…”

“Are you going to let me continue? You asked for my explanation, remember?”

She sat back. “All right, go ahead.”

“Then there’s my mother. What kind of a child must I have been that my mother—and we all know that mothers are supposed to
love you no matter what—walked away without a backward glance? What kind of a nasty little boy couldn’t win over his own mother?”

Terry heard his voice falter just a little and felt her heart break for the child he’d been, unloved and unwanted for so long
that he’d begun to shoulder the blame. “That’s her loss far more than yours. We all know that all mothers aren’t what they’re
supposed to be.”

“How about my grandmother? And Jill? Two more women, both claiming to care, both taking a hike when they got tired or the
going got rough. Say what you will, I’m not good for the long haul. I’d be stupid to try again.”

For long moments, Terry stared at him as he thrust his hands into his pockets, his eyes downcast. Then she gave in to a burst
of anger that had been building slowly as he’d stated his case. “How dare you judge me by the way others
treated you.” She saw his eyes raise to her, a scowl forming. “What makes you think you know me so well? Did you ever ask,
did you ever question me? They all left and so it stands to reason in your warped little mind that I would. How very fair-minded
of you.”

Unable to sit still, Terry jumped up, pacing as her outrage grew. “You don’t give a damn about my feelings. You’ve never even
inquired how I feel. You took one look at me and, in your infinite wisdom, came to the only conclusion, the one you always
come to: you’re unlovable, incorrigible, impossible. Therefore, no one, including me, would stay with you. So, to protect
yourself from being hurt again, you build a damn wall around yourself and you don’t let anyone in. But I got in, didn’t I,
Luke? I broke through, I got close and now you’re really scared. This has nothing to do with your job or the danger involved.
You want to strike first, to say good-bye before I do, because you’re so certain I will.”

Luke was gritting his teeth together so hard he thought they might crack. He glared at her silently, unable to come up with
a good response.

“You didn’t take into account
my
background, the kind of person I am or… or…”

He felt weary to the bone. He just wanted to get this over with. He hadn’t had the faintest idea how difficult it would be
when he’d started. “Or what?” he demanded.

“Or the fact that I love you.” Shocked that she’d said the one thing she’d vowed not to, Terry stood with hands on her hips,
her lower lip trembling.

Stunned to hear her say the words, Luke swallowed. “What did you say?”

“Oh, shut up!” She turned, hurrying to the bedroom, needing to get away from him, wanting to curl up and die.

Luke watched her leave, heard the bedroom door slam. The sadness in her eyes, there beneath the anger, was something he’d
probably never forget.

Jones had been right. He never should have touched her.
She was too damn good for him, too sweet. He didn’t deserve her. But she was wrong. She’d have found him out and left him,
in time. Better to hurt her now than later, he thought. She’d get over it, over him. She was too lovely to be alone too long.

And he’d have yet another regret in his life. Only this one, he doubted he’d ever get over.

Phil Remington sat down at his rolltop desk in his beautifully appointed Phoenix apartment, and let out a weary sigh. Swiveling
his leather chair in a half circle, he gazed around. He loved this room. He’d decorated it himself in restful shades of blue,
brown, and ivory. The antique clock on the mantel chimed the half hour melodiously. He gave the chair another half turn and
looked out the window as the street-lights came on in the park three stories below. A peaceful neighborhood, a prestigious
apartment building where many of the movers and shakers in the community lived. To a person, they admired him, respected him,
sought out his company.

And now it was all over.

Phil turned back to glance at the arrest warrant on the desk top. He’d been so sure he could bluff his way through, that he
could pass the lie detector test by sheer force of will, that even if he didn’t, they had too little on him to make a case.
Circumstantial evidence was rarely enough. But that damn tape recording of Terry Ryan under hypnosis revealing that he was
in the gray sedan had turned the tide. The Feds had been able to persuade a judge to sign the papers.

At least they hadn’t humiliated him by arresting him right in his office, perhaps because he’d been acting chief, a further
embarrassment for the department. Chief Deputy Bob Jones had personally served him his papers and allowed him an hour to go
to his home and attend to a few personal matters before his lockup. Jones was waiting outside the door for him to finish up.
Phil glanced at his Rolex. Twenty minutes left.

He’d put his house in order, so to speak, then sat down with the phone. But he had no one he wanted to call. Not even Sharon,
though she’d probably unknowingly started it all.

Remington wasn’t the name he’d been born with. It’d been Ramon and he’d always hated it, hated being thought of as a spic
when he didn’t even look Mexican, taking after his blond mother. The Ramons had been dirt poor, his high school dropout father
a maintenance man, his mother a maid at one of the posh hotels in Scottsdale. With six kids, there was never enough money.
They’d all married young, but not Phil. He’d worked three jobs, sometimes four, to get through college. Then top graduate
from the Police Academy, the fair-haired boy expected to move up quickly in the ranks. And he had.

Along about then, he’d met Sharon Ames, with her blond good looks and her moneyed family. Phil had been dazzled and, against
her parents’ wishes, they’d been married. That’s when he’d discovered the wonders of being wealthy. A beautiful apartment,
expensive clothes, fabulous trips, a new BMW every year.

Only the marriage hadn’t worked. Sharon wanted children and Phil didn’t. He’d grown up in a house full of kids and never wanted
to live like that again. Sharon wanted him home more, but he had to keep his job or lose his identity, the one thing he had
going for him on his own. Even old man Ames respected him as a police lieutenant. But he hadn’t counted on petulant and spoiled
Sharon filing for divorce. Stubbornly, he’d let her, sure she’d change her mind.

She hadn’t and Phil discovered what it was like to have to live on a cop’s pay again. Sharon had given him a taste of the
good life, then snatched it away. Phil decided he hated scraping by.

That’s when it had all really begun. Slowly at first, so much money for just looking the other way. His good friend, Mac,
had shown him how easy it was. By then, there’d been
others in on it also. It wasn’t as if they were covering up killings. It was just a little harmless smuggling, a few dummy
companies shifting money around. Hell, those dealers would have managed to transport that stuff across the border anyway.
Who cared if the money filtered through a few dummy companies? Why not get in on the payoff?