Lawman's Redemption (21 page)

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Authors: Marilyn Pappano

BOOK: Lawman's Redemption
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Ryan looked embarrassed. “I had to ask.”

“I know.”

“So…Mrs. Marketic's car is being dusted for prints, and we're looking for any abandoned cars in the downtown area. The guys had to get there somehow. Other than that…” Ryan shrugged as he got to his feet.

Other than that, there was nothing else to do, except hope that if the bastards came back again, the cops caught them before they did any more damage. So far, they hadn't had any luck at that.

Brady walked to the front door with them, stepping out onto the porch. There, Mitch said, “Someone will be coming by on patrol pretty often.”

“Yeah. And if all else fails, there are a couple empty cells down at the jail,” Lucy said with a grin.

“We'd have to put them in handcuffs and leg irons to get them there,” Brady said dryly. “Thanks a lot, guys. If you need anything, or if you find out anything, call me. I'll be here.”

He watched until they were out of sight, Ryan and Lucy heading back into town, Mitch turning toward Heartbreak. Then he breathed deeply of the steamy, clean scent of the rain. He'd always liked rainy days. Except for the increase in fender-benders, he found the gray skies and steady splash of water
soothing—perfect for being lazy, watching old movies and dozing at odd times.

He could use some soothing now.

Actually, he could use Reese and his cousin, Jace, and someplace as secure as a fortress to stash Hallie and Lexy.

And he could use some answers. He had too many questions, and that made him edgy.

A floorboard behind him creaked, and he turned to see Hallie standing in the doorway. She wore her nightgown—another short, slim satiny thing, this one a rich lavender shot through with silver threads—with a robe in lavender, silver, pink and pale green. Her blond hair hung loose around her shoulders, and her face, washed free of whatever makeup had survived the rain, had a little color back in it. She looked so slender, so delicate.

Just the sight made his chest hurt.

“You're supposed to be in bed resting,” he said, his voice huskier than he'd intended, thanks to the lump in his throat.

“Somebody's sleeping in our bed.” She came to stand beside him, and he automatically slid his arm around her. “Lexy was worn out by all that's happened, so she's taking a nap.”

“She's worried about you.”

“I know. She's sweet.”

They both watched the rain and the occasional car on the highway for a time before he casually asked, “How secure is that mansion of yours out in Beverly Hills?”

“Plenty, I suppose. It's a gated community, we've got a twelve-foot wall around the grounds, a top-notch alarm system, security patr—” Abruptly she looked at him, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Why?”

“I was just thinking you and Lex might be better off someplace else.”

Pulling away, she sat down on the porch swing. When he joined her, she leaned back against him and drew her feet onto the weathered wood. “I think Lex and I are safest right here with you.”

“There's no way those guys could track you to California. Even if they did, you'd be tough to get to.”

“You don't
really
want us to leave.”

“Of course not. But when I saw you both on the ground today…and right outside the damned sheriff's department….” He sighed, then pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I don't want either of you hurt again. I thought I could keep Lexy safe, but obviously I can't.”

“So we'll be very careful. We'll watch for these guys. Lexy and I will walk everywhere back-to-back, so there won't be another sneak attack.”

She tilted her head back so he could see her sly amusement with the image of one of them always traveling in reverse. Cupping his hand to her jaw, he bent and kissed her. Under the circumstances, he intended nothing more than a brief taste, but she sighed deep in her throat and drew his tongue into her mouth, and he couldn't resist.

Awkwardly, they maneuvered into a more comfortable position, with her bottom on his lap, and his arm around her back. As he stroked and probed and she sucked hard at his tongue, he slid his good hand inside her robe and cupped her breast, applying just enough pressure to make her nipple swell against his palm. And it wasn't the only thing swelling. His arousal pressed against her bottom, making her wriggle, which in turn made him swallow a groan.

When his lungs were about to burst from lack of air, he ended the kiss—not easy when she protested wordlessly and clung to him. “We can't do this,” he murmured.

She gave him a smile so womanly and wicked that it alone could have made him stone-hard. “Why not?”

“For starters, we could get arrested. Remember that outraging-the-public-decency law?”

“Privacy's only a few steps away.”

“My daughter's asleep in our bed.”

“So we can use hers. Or the couch. Or that wonderfully sturdy oak table in the dining room. Or we can take a bath together in that big ol' clawfoot tub. Just you and me, some sweet-smelling soap, our bodies slick and wet and steamy….”

His breath caught in his chest and the temperature of the blood pumping through his veins redlined. His muscles knotting, he lifted her away and deposited her carefully on the bench beside
him. “You went through a traumatic event just hours ago. You need rest.”

She leaned against the swing's arm and stretched out one leg across his lap, with her foot landing in a very sensitive spot—and naturally, she couldn't keep it still. “All right,” she said primly. “I'll rest. And you'd better do it, too, because, honey, sooner or later Lexy's going to get out of our bed, and then you're going to need all the energy you can get.”

“Promises, promises,” he murmured.

This was one he had little doubt she would keep.

 

The search of the muggers' getaway car turned up nothing—no fingerprints, no backpack and contents carelessly discarded, no wallets conveniently fallen from hip pockets. One of the deputies had located the car the man who'd tried to grab Lexy off the street had been driving that day, but it had turned out to be stolen from Oklahoma City, with a Colorado tag that had also been reported stolen. They found nothing of value in it, either.

Hallie sat at the dining table Saturday morning, the remains of her breakfast in front of her, and listened to Brady's end of the conversation as he spoke with one of his deputies. For a man whose job was protecting people and solving crimes, it frustrated him no end that he couldn't solve
these
crimes, especially when the crooks weren't particularly smart. But who needed smarts when they had luck?

And these were two lucky bastards.

After hanging up the phone, he took a drink of coffee, then asked, “What do you want to do today?”

She and Lexy weren't exactly under house arrest. They'd gone to the grocery store the day before, and to dinner at the SteakOut last night. Of course, Brady had gone to dinner with them, and the cute young deputy named Lucy had driven them to and from the store. Isn't this an abuse of authority? Hallie had asked as they'd wandered down the aisles, and Lucy had adamantly said no. Brady had helped protect Neely, the deputy had pointed out, and he would do the same if it was
her
family who was in danger. They were a small department, and they all looked out for each other.

Consider it preventive law enforcement, she had suggested. If the presence of a uniformed officer dissuaded the two punks from coming around again, then it also saved all the man-hours required to investigate a second assault.

Truthfully, Lucy had won Hallie over when she'd implied that Hallie was part of Brady's family. Wouldn't she love to be!

“I have to go over to Neely's house,” she said now to Brady.

“I haven't been keeping an eye on things the way I should have.” She'd called Dane Watson Friday morning to make her excuses, but he'd already heard all the gossip. He'd told her not to worry, that he would call if they really needed her input, but she felt she owed it to Neely. She wasn't living up to the favor she'd promised her sister, and if something turned out wrong with Neely's dream house because of her, she would kick herself.

“Okay. Anything else? Go to the lake? Have a picnic? Catch a movie?”

“How about lunch at the café over in Heartbreak?” She wanted to go someplace where, at least for a time, life would seem perfectly normal, and Shay's place, according to Neely, was the most normal, routine, life-is-good place around.

“Okay.” He rose from the table and precariously balanced their dishes in his good hand. “Bet I can be ready before you.”

“That's a loser bet.” He wore jeans and a T-shirt, and needed only shoes, socks and his pistol before he walked out the door. She, on the other hand, was still in her robe.

She detoured into the living room, where Lexy was sprawled in an easy chair, one long leg hanging over the side and swinging, while a movie played—loudly—on the TV. “Hey, Lexy, we're going over to Neely's house.”

The girl didn't take her gaze from the screen. “Okay. I'll see you when you get back.”

“No, kiddo,
we
are going. All of us. Throw on some clothes.”

“I don't want to go. It's just a house. It's boring.”

Hallie picked up the remote from the arm of the chair, then perched there herself. The scene on the TV screen was filled with bright flashes and incredible noise, and the dialogue was quick, peppered with obscenities and difficult to comprehend at
nine o'clock on a Saturday morning. But she didn't need to understand. “That's one of Max's movies. I'll tell you how it ends on the way. Come on.” She pointed the remote at the television and pressed the power button, and Lexy sprang to her feet.

“I was watching that!”

“You can catch it next time it's on.”

“You mean if your plans don't interfere. I don't want to go to that stupid house. I'm not a baby. I don't have to have someone with me every minute of every damn day!”

Feeling at a disadvantage sitting while Lexy towered over her, Hallie stood, too. “Yes, sweetie, right now you do. I know it's a pain, but it's something you have to accept. Go on and get dressed, okay?” As she spoke, she laid her hand on Lexy's arm, and the girl angrily spun away.

“You can't tell me what to do all the time! You're not my mother!” Lexy stomped off down the hall, her bare feet making an impressive amount of noise on the wood floor. A moment later, the slam of her bedroom door echoed through the house.

Hallie didn't move. She certainly wasn't Lexy's mother, was her first thought. Though the girl would have been a whole lot better off if she were, rather than Sandra. At least then she never would have felt rejected and unloved.

Her second response was hurt. She knew it was silly—what did it matter if some teenage kid blew up at her?—but it hurt all the same. Lexy wasn't just some teenage kid; she was someone Hallie cared about deeply. The way, her little voice whispered, a mother cared about her daughter.

And she had no right to feel that way. She was a part of Lexy's life only by virtue of being the temporary woman in her father's life, rather like all those stepfathers her mother kept introducing to, then removing from, their family.

“What was that about?”

She looked up to find Brady standing in the dining-room door, a dishtowel in his hand. She put on a smile for him. “It was your daughter being a teenager. No big deal.” After a shrug, she added, “She doesn't want to go to Heartbreak. Maybe you two should stay here, and I'll go alone.”

He shook his head.

“No one's interested in me,” she pointed out. “If I hadn't spent so much time with Lexy, they never would have noticed me.”

Stubbornly he continued to shake his head. “I'll talk to her.”

“It's really not necessary, Brady. We can just stay here. Let her watch the rest of her movie.”

He came into the room and pressed a kiss to her forehead as he passed. “I'll talk to her. Go on and get dressed.”

Feeling more like the kid than the kid apparently did, Hallie obeyed, taking the longer route through the dining room and kitchen to her bedroom. As she went, she sent a silent wish for good luck Brady's way.

He would probably need it.

 

Lexy was lying on her bed, her feet propped on the headboard, her gaze fixed on a water stain on the ceiling. She knew it was just a matter of time before one of them came looking for her—Sandra never let a disrespectful remark pass without punishment—but she wished they would just leave her alone. Just because she was a kid, no one
ever
left her alone when she wanted.

When there was a knock at the door, she could tell by no more than the sharp rap that it was Brady. “Go away,” she said loudly, so of course he opened the door and came inside.

At least he'd bothered to knock first. Since Sandra's bedroom was the only one with a lock, she always just walked right into Lexy's room, so once Lexy had used part of her allowance to buy a lock for the door. It was just a chain, like on motel doors, but took her hours to put it up. The first time Sandra had tried to come in and couldn't, she'd gone ballistic. She'd made Lexy take it off, and then made her pay to have some guy come in and fix the holes in the door and the jamb.

But it had been worth it, she thought with a secretive smile as she remembered the way Sandra's face had turned all splotchy red and she'd sputtered like some cartoon character because she couldn't put into words how pissed she was.

Brady went to the window and sat down on the sill facing her. “What's up?”

“Nothing.”

“So that's your everything's-fine-with-the-world face?”

She scowled at him. “I was watching that movie, and she just turned it off.”

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