Lawman's Redemption (14 page)

She fixed her pillows, then turned off the lamp and snuggled in on her side. “On the contrary, at the moment I think it's quite pertinent.” Then she slyly added, “I'll tell if you will.”

“I don't need the torment, but thanks for offering.” Then…

“You turned your light out.”

“Hmm. I like the sound of your voice in the dark.” She gazed out her window and made out just a glimmer of light in the distance. It gave her a warm, secure feeling to know he was just on the other side of the trees and pasture—only minutes away if she needed him. “If you were a DJ, every woman in the country would tune in.”

“You must be tired. You're getting silly.”

“I am many things, but I am not and never have been the silly one. In fact, there
is
no silly one in the Madison family.”

“I hate those labels you and your sisters hang on each other.”

The emphatic tone of his voice made Hallie frown. “It's all in fun. With our names all ending in some variation of Lee—need I mention that our father's name was Lee?—it's just a way to help keep us straight.”

“You defend them, but deep inside you don't really like them, either. Most of the ones you get stuck with—or stick yourself with—are putdowns, and they're just so much bull.”

She didn't know what to say because she was surprised he noticed. Surprised he cared. Surprised that he was right. Whenever her family started attaching labels, it seemed the ones they gave her were the most insignificant, and she'd often thought it was because they saw her as the most insignificant sister. She was the only one without a college degree, without a career, without a purpose or a plan for her life, and she was the one
who screwed up far more often than she got it right. And because
they
saw her that way, it was so much easier for her to view herself that way, too.

“No one really pays much attention to them,” she said lamely.

“You do.”

Her smile was unsteady and disappeared before it formed.

“Not really,” she lied again. “Besides, labels can be helpful. All anyone has to say about you is ‘loner,' and we automatically know an awful lot about you. All you have to say about Lexy is ‘teenage girl.' And all you have to say about me is ‘loser.'”

The phone line actually hummed with tension. She shifted uncomfortably, brushed her hair back, then put on the fake cheery voice that went with the fake cheery smile. “Hey, it was a joke.”

“And a bad one.” He sounded as if he were scowling, an image she could all too easily call to mind.

“Sounds like the undersheriff is grumpy tonight,” she teased.

“According to you, the undersheriff is grumpy all the time.”

“Not all the time. I can recall at least twice that you were almost perfect.”

“Just almost?”

She deliberately kept her tone light. “Well, there was that disappearing act you pulled before sunrise both mornings.”

“Pardon me, but I had the distinct impression you didn't want anyone to know I'd spent the night with you.”

That was a good excuse for the second time, but not the first. He'd left without a word, expecting to never see her again, and he'd done it, she thought, because
he
didn't want anyone to know he'd spent the night with her.

She wondered if he still felt that way.

And if she would ever get a chance to find out.

The sound of a yawn came over the line, then he murmured an apology. “Sorry. I guess I'd better let you go so we can both get some sleep.”

“I'm glad you called.” Just talking with him had made the knot in her stomach disappear. She felt relaxed, warm and drowsy.

“I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay. Good night.” She liked his assumption, even though they hadn't made any plans for Sunday. It had been a long time since anyone had assumed she would be a part of his day.

“Good— Aw, hell, go ahead and torment me. What
are
you wearing?”

She shifted under the covers, her satin chemise rubbing sensuously against her skin, then she smiled a naughty little smile. “Nothing at all. Sleep on that, Brady.”

With his low groan echoing in her ear, she hung up and settled in to sleep.

 

It was after nine o'clock on Sunday morning when the phone awakened Hallie. She stared at it, too groggy for a moment to realize that it was the culprit making the awful racket. Finally, her brain kicked into gear and she reached for it. “Yeah.”

“Hey, it's me,” Brady said. He couldn't have gotten any more sleep than she had, but he sounded alert, brisk and all business, while she could hardly lift her head from the pillow.

“I'm sorry to wake you, but I've got an emergency call, and after last night, I don't want to leave Lexy alone. Do you mind…?”

“No, not at all.” She sat up and shoved her hair back from her face, then glanced out the window. It was another bright, sunny and hot day. She would give a lot to see a few rain clouds in the sky, and even more to feel raindrops falling on her head, but it didn't look as if it might happen today. “You want to bring her over on your way, or should I come over there?”

“She's not dressed yet. If you could come over….”

“I'll be there in ten minutes.”

“Thanks, Hallie. Feel free to crawl into my bed and sleep a few hours more when you get here.”

“Great. You invite me to bed when you're not in it. Be careful.” She hung up, rubbed her face with both hands, then stumbled into the bathroom. It was a good thing she'd showered the night before. Otherwise, it would take her an hour to get ready. But all she had to do was wet her hair to tame a bad case of bed-head, brush her teeth and put on a minimum of makeup.
With her hair slicked back and a change into shorts and a T-shirt, she was out the door.

She drove the short distance to Brady's street, then turned. Up ahead a car was stopped in the middle of the street, blocking both lanes, and its driver was standing beside it, holding on to someone Hallie couldn't see, presumably trying to get that person into his car. She would have to drive around him on the grassy shoulder, and if she picked up a nail or anything else sharp in her tire because of a spat between some guy and his girlfriend, she would be so—

She hit the brakes, bringing the car to a stop with a sharp squeal, and immediately climbed out. “There you are, Lexy,” she said, keeping her voice steady and calm by sheer will. She could see now that the man didn't have hold of Lexy, but had wrapped his fingers around her backpack strap—still a threatening move, in Hallie's opinion. “Who's your friend?”

The girl was scowling darkly, but it couldn't hide the fear in her blue eyes as she jerked her backpack free of his grip, circled far away from him and hurried to the Mercedes. “He's no friend of mine. Let's get out of here, Hallie.”

“Get in the car,” Hallie directed. She looked at the man's car—small, red, an older model with a mud-covered tag—then at him. He was probably in his early twenties, not as tall as Brady, brown hair, fair skin, everyday white-bread average. He wasn't handsome, wasn't homely, wasn't particularly memorable at all. “You're old enough to know better than to hassle a fourteen-year-old girl on the street.”

His grin was too slick, too easy. “Fourteen? No way. You're kidding, right? She can't possibly be— Man, you aren't kidding, are you?” He raised both hands as he backed toward his car. “Hey, look, I'm sorry. I had no idea. I thought she was older. I'm really sorry. Hey, no harm, right? Sorry, kid,” he called as he got into his car and drove away, accelerating quickly to about double the speed limit, then turning out of sight.

Hallie slid into her seat and fastened her seat belt before looking at Lexy. “Is your father already gone?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure? Then would you please tell me what in the hell you're doing out here?”

“Heck,” Lexy said, twisting her fingers together nervously.

“Sam Hill. Blazes. They're all good substitutes.”

“This is no time to be cute, Lexy. Why are you out here?”

“I just…I was just coming to meet you, and then that jerk came along and he was blocking my way and wouldn't let me by.”

“Did Brady tell you I was coming over?”

“Yeah,” she said petulantly. “He said ten minutes, and I waited ten minutes. Then I decided to walk up here and meet you on the way and then maybe we could go do something. Only that—that moron came along first. He kept asking if I needed a ride and saying it was too hot to walk and he'd take me anywhere I wanted to go. I told him I wasn't interested, but he just kept on and when I tried to go around him, he grabbed my backpack and wouldn't let go. Stupid jerk.”

Her jaw clenched, Hallie tapped her nails on the steering wheel. She hated to bother Brady when he was busy, but if she waited until he'd finished with his emergency, the odds of finding the guy would dwindle away to nothing. And maybe he really hadn't meant any harm and there wasn't any reason to find him, other than to put the fear of God—and a father with a badge—into him, but after what had happened last night….

She drove the remaining block to the Marshall house and parked behind Brady's pickup. “You do have a key to the house?”

“I found Brady's extra one. He put it in the
junk
drawer, for heaven's sake. You'd think a cop would have better hiding places.”

Once they were inside, Lexy tossed her backpack aside and flopped down on the couch to watch TV. Hallie went to the kitchen phone, then called, “Do you know his cell phone number?”

“Nope.”

She located the phone book, then dialed the non-emergency number for the Canyon County Sheriff's Department. The
woman who answered sounded older than dirt and tougher than nails, and she was none too anxious to help Hallie. “I can't give that number out,” she interrupted the first time Hallie mentioned his cell phone.

“I don't expect you to give it to me. But can you get in touch with him—”

“He's on an emergency.”

“I know that, and I wouldn't be calling if it weren't important. Can you contact him—”

“Not while he's on a call.”

Hallie closed her eyes briefly, then said in her most patient voice, “Okay. Not a problem. I need to see a deputy as quickly as possible at 128 East Cedar about an incident a few minutes ago involving the acting sheriff's daughter.”

“One-twenty-eight East— That's Brady's house.”

“Yes, it is. Can you send someone?”

“I'll pass it on.”

“Thank you,” Hallie said sweetly, then she hung up and stuck out her tongue at the phone. She took the long way back into the living room, passing Brady's room and giving a longing glance at his bed. It was neatly made, without a wrinkle anywhere, and she would bet the sheets smelled enticingly of him. Not that she was going to get a chance to find out.

She entered the living room behind the sofa and bent to give Lexy a hug from behind. “You're lucky I don't turn you over my knee and paddle you.”

“Huh,” Lexy scoffed. “No way.
Nobody
paddles me.” But for one sweet moment, she held tightly to Hallie, as if nobody hugged her, either, then she whispered, “I wish my dad was here.”

“So do I.”

“But since he's not…I'm glad you are.”

Hallie closed her eyes to slow the dampness welling, then swallowed over the lump in her throat. “So am I, sweetie.”
So am I.

T
here were some things a man should never have to get used to, and the sight of violent death was one of them. Brady kept his gaze on the timber in the distance as Ryan Sandoval, the county's chief criminal deputy, ran down what they'd learned so far—three cousins, partying through the night and into the morning; a dispute over one cousin's girlfriend, who happened to be another cousin's ex-wife; too much booze and an easily accessible loaded handgun. Now one of the cousins was going to the hospital, one was going to jail, and the third was going to the medical examiner's office.

What a waste of three young lives.

“Hell of a way to start a Sunday morning, isn't it?” Ryan commented.

“Hell of a way to start
any
morning…or to end any life. Has the family been notified?”

“Yeah. After calling us, the guy called his father. His parents live just down the road.”

Brady started to speak, but a familiar call on the radio cut him off.

“County two, this is county fourteen.”

He pulled the handheld from its pouch on his gun belt and pressed the mike button. “County two.”

“Hey, Brady, this is Mitch. We got a call to your address—something about your daughter. I don't know anything else, but I'll be there in a minute. Thought you'd want to know.”

The muscles in his stomach clenched, and a feeling he hadn't experienced in a long time began building inside him—pure, unadulterated fear. Was Lexy all right? What about Hallie? And why the hell did it happen now, when he was at least ten minutes away?

“Go on,” Sandoval said with a sympathetic look. “We've got this covered.”

“Thanks.” As he returned to his SUV, he told Mitch he was on his way, tossed the radio onto the passenger seat, buckled up as he started the engine, then peeled out in a spray of gravel and dirt.

He made it back to town and to his house in nine minutes, and they were the longest nine minutes of his life. This wasn't good, he warned himself as he crossed the yard to the porch in about three steps. Neither Lexy nor Hallie was in his life for the long haul, and getting this involved with them could only hurt in the end.

Unfortunately, his self wasn't listening.

He took the steps in one stride, jerked open the screen door and burst into the living room. Mitch was sitting in the easy chair, and Hallie and Lexy were on the couch, both apparently none the worse for whatever had happened. As she'd done the night before, Lexy threw herself into his arms.

“I'm sorry!” she cried. “I know it was stupid, but I was sure I'd meet Hallie before I got to the highway, and I would've, too, if that jerk had left me alone! But I'm sorry, and I won't ever do anything like that again, I swear!”

On occasion his job put him in the position of comforting a distraught female, usually when he was making a death notification, and he'd never been at ease with it. Last night, when he'd found himself holding Lexy, he'd been just as awkward. Today… Maybe with practice, as with most things, it got easier,
because the urge to push her thin, trembling body away wasn't nearly as strong as the urge to hold her until the shaking stopped.

“Mitch, you want to fill me in?”

The deputy did so quickly.

“Anyone come to mind who matches that description?”

“No one who drives a red car, or would try to pick up a kid on the street, especially your kid.”

Brady shifted his attention to Hallie. “And you couldn't make out anything on the tag?”

She shook her head. “I can't even tell you what state it was. It was coated with mud….” Her forehead wrinkled in a frown as she slowly added, “But the car wasn't. It was relatively clean.”

So some bastard had deliberately obscured his license tag before he'd tried to force Lexy into his car. Was he one of the men who'd followed her last night? And why? What did two men want with a purple-haired teenager with an attitude?

Mitch got to his feet. “We'll look out for the car, Brady, but…”

But without a make, model or tag number, their only chance of finding it would be pure luck.

Hey, sometimes it happened.

Freeing one arm from Lexy's grip, he shook hands with the deputy. “Thanks, Mitch. I appreciate it.”

Once the door closed behind the deputy, Lexy drew back. “I know you're pissed.”

“I'm not—” He considered it and decided that now the fear was almost gone, pissed was exactly what he was. “I told you you couldn't stay alone. I called Hallie to stay with you. I did that for a reason.”

“Yeah.” She ventured an unsteady grin. “But I thought it was because you wanted her to be here when you got back.”

That wasn't his reason, merely an added benefit. But he kept any hint of that out of his expression and continued as if she hadn't spoken. “So as soon as I was gone, you went out by yourself and damn near got kidnapped.”

His voice got louder with each word and made her flinch at
the end. Hanging her head, she said, “Hallie cussed, too, and she never cusses.”

Well, almost never. He'd heard a few words from her…but he liked that she didn't swear. It was sweet, refined…and exactly the opposite of Sandra and his mother.

He seated her on the couch, then took the chair where the deputy had sat. “Have you had any problems like this at home?”

Lexy shook her head.

“No one ever hassles you?”

“Just Sandra and Adam.”

“Adam…her husband?” After her nod, he asked, “What does he do for a living?”

“I don't know. But he makes a lot of money and has a lot of creepy guys working for him.”

That didn't sound encouraging. Brady made a mental note to find out what he could about Adam Napier the next morning. “When this guy grabbed you, what did you do?”

Lexy shrugged. “I told him to let go. He didn't, and I tried to pull loose, and he tried to talk me into getting in his car, and then Hallie came.”

“If it ever happens again, if you think some stranger's even thinking about touching you, scream. Kick. Bite. Kick him in the testicles. Gouge out his eye. I guarantee, when you're standing there holding it, he's gonna leave you alone.”

“Ewww, that's gross.”

“Maybe so, but it's not as gross as getting raped or beaten or murdered. Damn it, Lexy—! Do you know how lucky you are? Do you have any idea what he could have done to you?”

An uncertain look came over her face. “I—I don't think he meant to hurt me.”

Brady swore under his breath. “Men don't force girls into their cars if they don't mean to hurt them.”

“I—I—” She shuddered, rubbing her wrist, then jumped to her feet. “I'm gonna go clean up.” Her boots made clomping noises as she crossed the living room to her bedroom, then headed toward the bathroom.

“Daughters are the reason fathers get gray hair,” Hallie said softly.

Brady sighed, then dragged his fingers through his hair. “I'm glad you were there.”

“If I'd been a couple minutes earlier, I could have caught her before she left the house and it never would have happened.”

“Don't blame yourself because there's some bastard around here who likes little girls.”

“Do you think that's all it is?”

He moved to the sofa, propped his feet on the coffee table and tilted his head back to gaze at the ceiling. “Hell, I don't know. Why Lexy? Her appearance is sure to draw attention. People may not notice a teenage girl with brown hair in shorts and a T-shirt, but they damn well won't forget seeing
her.
I just can't figure…”

After a moment's silence, Hallie said, “Well, you've had an eventful morning for your day off. Did everything turn out okay with your emergency?”

“There isn't any ‘okay' for that situation. A man got drunk and in an argument, and killed one cousin and wounded another. They grew up together, have been best friends all their lives, and now…”

“I'm sorry. Do you need to go back there?”

He shook his head. “Nope. Barring any other emergencies, the rest of the day is mine. I think I'll get my leg irons out of the truck and chain Lexy to the couch. She can watch TV, listen to her music, sleep if she wants. What do you think?”

“I think she might take your self-defense advice to heart, and your eyes are too pretty to risk.”

He directed a hard look her way. “My eyes aren't pretty. That's a girly word.”

“Well, I'm a girly person, so I can use girly words.” She mimicked his position, which required moving a foot or so closer. Now less than half a cushion separated them. “That night in the bar, I thought your eyes must surely be as dark as the rest of you, but then I saw they were this incredible blue…and shadowed. Wounded. Haunted.”

Brady could tell she was looking at him, but he didn't turn
his head to meet her gaze. He was too comfortable the way he was, to say nothing of the fact he didn't want her to see whatever was in his eyes at the moment. She was too good at noticing things no one else ever did.

“So now you're playing the strong, silent type,” she teased as she fixed her gaze elsewhere.

“I
am
the strong, silent type.”

“It's easy to be silent when you've intimidated everyone into not asking questions for you to answer. I, however, am not easily intimidated—at least, by you—because I am the—”

He turned only his head to look at her and warned, “No labels.”

She turned her head, too, and smiled a little. Her hair was combed straight back from her face and secured in a ponytail—a severe style that not many women he knew could pull off. Instead of looking severe on her, though, it emphasized the delicate, elegant lines of her face.

Damn, she was beautiful.

Her smile slowly faded, and her hazel eyes took on a dazed look as her lips parted on a soft breath. It took no more than that to make him hard, to make him want her more than he could recall ever wanting anything. He remembered all the reasons why he shouldn't, all the risks in getting involved—caring too much, losing too much, getting hurt again—and at that moment he didn't care. He wanted to make love to her, to be as intimate with her, both in bed and out, as a man and woman could be. He wanted to face all the risks and dangers.

He just didn't know how to do that and survive.

But one more kiss….

As he started to move toward her, her expression turned heavy with regret. She scooted away, turning on the sofa so she faced him, so her legs in front of her kept him from getting close.

“You don't want me to kiss you?”

“Oh, I want that and a lot more…but it wouldn't be wise.”

He knew she was right but asked anyway. “Why do you say that?”

“You don't want to get involved.”

“Neither do you.” Then he added, “And you don't want to get hurt.”

“Neither do you.”

“But casual affairs aren't in your nature.”

She smiled ruefully. “You were my first—and look how casual it's turned out. I told you, I'm the Madison family screwup. I can't even do a one-night stand right.”

“You can blame that on me.”

“I don't want to blame it on anyone. If I'd gotten it right, I never would have gotten to know you and Lexy, and that would be my loss. In my stronger moments, I know I've already risked more than I can afford. One of these days, Lexy is going to go home. One of these days
I'm
going home. And I'll miss both of you very much when that happens.”

“And in your weaker moments?”

“In my weaker moments, I want to adopt your daughter, and beg, plead, seduce—whatever it takes to get just one more night with you.”

One more night.
Was it really so much to ask? They wouldn't be doing anything they hadn't already done. Three nights together wasn't likely to cause any more problems for them than two nights, was it? They were adults. They knew what the future held. If they accepted it, if they both went into this with their eyes open and expecting nothing more, wouldn't it be all right?

No.
Their first night together, they hadn't even known each other's names. They'd been total strangers, and the sex had been purely physical. The second time they'd known a lot more about each other. He'd danced with her, held her in his arms in front of her entire family. He'd known about her three divorces, her pain, her insecurities. There had been some emotional connection.

Now they knew each other entirely too well. They were past the stage of having sex. If he made love to her, it would have to mean something and there would have to be at least the potential for a future.

But he couldn't offer that potential. As much as he liked her, as much as he liked the changes she and Lexy had brought to his life, he knew they weren't permanent. More, he knew he was
neither ready nor willing to try to make them permanent. There were still things she didn't know, things he wasn't prepared to deal with.

And if he spent another night with her knowing that, she would be hurt, and he would suffer for it.

He pushed himself to his feet and started toward the kitchen. “If weakness is a problem, you need to eat to keep your strength up. You want an early lunch or a late breakfast?”

“Hmm…late breakfast.”

“Yes, ma'am.” He saluted her just before he left the room. Detouring to his room, he locked up his gun, hung up his gun belt and put the handheld radio in its charger, then went to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. A breakfast to keep Hallie strong…. He set out eggs, cheese, bacon and sausage. That should make a good start.

But damned if he didn't wish they could both choose to be weak.

Just one more time.

 

“This is
not
my idea of fun.”

Giving Lexy a chiding look, Hallie offered the sales clerk her credit card, then waited while the woman ran it through.