Over the Line (23 page)

Lee

“Thank you for bringing me back,” I say to Wes. “The shelter’s not coming for the dogs until afternoon. I just thought, since our flight’s not till later, I should check on them.”

He gives me a hard look. “We took your family out of here last night for a reason, Lee. Your brother believes your location is compromised. It’s not safe.”

“I know. I just . . .” I swallow. “I don’t really need to check on the dogs, Wes. I feel like we need to talk . . . to clear the air. In all the chaos of getting out of here, and at the motel last night . . . we never got a second alone.”

Wes and Eric rotated shifts outside the two rooms they put us in at the Holiday Inn Express near the highway. I sat awake all night, watching him out the window until Eric replaced him at three in the morning. I wanted desperately to go out and ask him why he lied to us about Oliver. But if I bring Oliver up at all, I risk revealing too much. And I know why he said what he did. It was Oliver’s cover. The only way he’ll stay alive is if people believe he’s dead right up until he shows up in court to testify.

He glances at me warily as we pass Polly’s Diner. “This was all to get me alone?”

My cheeks warm, sure he’s remembering the last time I connived to get him alone and threw myself at him. “Yes.”

He pulls into Len’s Market and stops in the parking lot. “Why?”

“I know things got . . . awkward between us and I’m really sorry about that.” I swallow and force myself to hold his gaze. “You are an amazing man, and I’m sorry I didn’t turn out to be what you hoped I was. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive my behavior eventually.” I look away, finally, because if I keep looking at him I’m going to die of mortification. “I just wanted you to know I’m sorry for what happened between us.”

“Lee,” he says, drawing my eyes back to his face. “I’m not going to lie and say I’m not disappointed that this didn’t work out, but there’s nothing to forgive.”

My heart’s pounding in my throat, pumping massive volumes of blood to my face. “I got drunk and threw myself at you. I practically—”

He presses a finger to my lips and fails at suppressing a smile. “And I loved every second of it.”

I’m scarlet. I can feel it. He doesn’t embarrass me further by pointing it out. He really is one of the good ones. He’s going to find someone so much better than me.

“Since we’ve already come this far, let’s check those dogs,” he says, pulling back onto the road.

“Thanks,” I say, and I hope he knows I mean for more than the dogs.

Wes takes the corner onto our short dirt road cautiously, then stops, looking toward our house on the bluff for any sign of trouble. “Looks like we’re clear,” he says after a minute.

There’s an ache in my heart as we climb the drive. When I finally got through to Rob yesterday, I wasn’t sure he would come for me. But I knew I couldn’t wait any longer without risking missing them. I was right. Rob picked me up and we got back to the house at five o’clock, just as Wes was loading the rest of my family into the cars. I didn’t even have time to go inside and grab a clean pair of underwear.

Wes got word this morning that the first flight to D.C. they could get all five of us on wasn’t until noon. So I went to Wes early this morning and asked him to bring me back here on the premise of checking on the dogs.

I step out of the car and go to them while Wes stalks to the front porch.

The note I left for the shelter has come loose and I find it halfway to the bluff, caught on a low branch of a scrub oak. I retrieve it and clip it back to the fence.

“Hey, guys,” I say, opening the gate and stepping into the run.

They both jump on me, even Burn, which makes me think they know something’s wrong. I feel myself getting misty-eyed. I crouch down between them and hug them both to my shoulders. “Believe it or not, I’m going to miss you guys.”

Crash can’t resist giving me a tongue bath.

I rub him between the ears. “You’re going to have someone new to torment very soon. I promise.”

I glance at their bowls. The water’s fine, but they’ve run through their food. No surprise.

“I need to get their chow from the pantry,” I tell Wes, grabbing the bowl and moving through the gate. The boys try to follow me, but I push them back and close them in the run.

He gives the place a wary once-over and pulls his handgun from the shoulder holster. “Make it quick.”

He leads the way in, or really, his Glock does, and I fill the bowl with puppy chow. “Since we’re here, can I grab a few things from my room?” I ask.

In answer, he moves toward the stairs and starts up them.

I leave the bowl on the counter and follow him up. He holds a hand up to stop me when we reach the top, and I wait as he pushes each door open in turn and looks into the rooms. When he gets to mine, he quickly steps inside.

I start to follow, but my heart leaps into my throat when I hear him bark, “Don’t move!”

I bolt through the door and he’s got his gun cocked against a man’s head. The man is spread-eagle on my bed, and with Wes’s broad body in the way, all I can clearly see is light brown hair, dark gray slacks, and a pair of black wingtips.

I know those wingtips.

“Oliver?” I gasp.

Wes glances over his shoulder at me, but Oliver sits up at the same second, and all Wes’s attention focuses back on him. “I said,
don’t move
!”

I rush to Oliver.

Wes pushes me back with his free hand. “Get back to the car, Lee!”

“What are you doing here?” I ask Oliver, straining against Wes’s grip to get to him. “
Why are you here?
”

At my desperate plea, Wes’s sharp gaze flashes to me for the briefest second.

Despite the gun to his head, Oliver gives me a resigned smile. “I’m in your bed. I hoped that might be self-explanatory.”

“I thought you left.” My heart pounds in my throat, making the words come out thick.

“Lee,” Wes warns, his grip tightening on my arm as he tries to pull me behind him.

“Tried to,” Oliver answers. “Couldn’t.”

My heart oozes into a puddle at my feet.

“You left something in the hotel room,” he says, reaching into his pocket. “I was hoping you might want it back.”

“Freeze!” Wes shouts, his finger tightening on the trigger.

I tear my arm out of his grasp and fling myself at Oliver. “No!”

The gun fires as I land on him.

“God fucking dammit!” I hear Wes yell through the ringing in my ears.

There’s the firm pressure of a hand on my side and Oliver’s voice. “Fuck! Lee!” Then softer, close to my ear, a muttered, “It’s okay, Cheetah. You’re going to be okay.”

Wes lifts his gun toward Oliver, where I’m curled against him.

I reach up and grasp the barrel as my head goes fuzzy. “I love him,” I say.

My voice sounds tinny and far off, like an echo through a train tunnel.

Oliver pulls me tighter against him. “Stay with me, Cheetah.”

The breathy whisper against my ear is warm, but the rest of me feels suddenly cold. I shiver and Oliver’s arms hold me closer.

There’s shouting in the background, Wes yelling something about an ambulance, but all I hear is “Stay with me, baby.” Oliver’s wet plea against my face.

“Always,” I answer, but the world feels soft and airy around the edges and I’m not sure anything actually comes out of my mouth.

Oliver’s face fades. The room fades. Sounds fade as the tide takes me under.

And then I drift.

***

I wake up to daylight. And Oliver’s scent.

Then pain. A dull throb in my left side.

As my eyes focus, I find the harsh fluorescent lighting of a hospital room overhead. And then I find Oliver. He’s seated at the side of my bed, his shoulder propped against the bedrail. The window is open behind him and the louvers of the shades flap against each other in the breeze of a sunny day.

“Welcome back,” he says with a smile.

It takes a second for all the pieces to click in my mind. My hand goes to my side, where I feel a gauze dressing through the thin cotton of my hospital gown. “Wes shot me.”

“The bastard did,” Oliver says, his face contorting. “Got your spleen and nicked your kidney. You lost a lot of blood.”

“He’s not a bastard,” I say, more defensively than I mean to.

He gives his head a shake. “You’ll never convince me of that.”

I slide up in the bed and look down at myself. Other than the bandage on my side, I seem to be intact. “He was protecting me.”

“From this?” Oliver says, holding up my engagement ring.

I take a deep breath and look at him. “What happened? After?”

“Your bastard marshal cuffed me to the bed, got you loaded in the ambulance, then called it in and found out who I was. He had to let me go. Tried to send me back to Nebraska, but I told him I wasn’t going anywhere until I knew you were out of the woods.”

Relief floods me, washing out the shock. “So, that’s it?”

“They want to relocate us, but otherwise”—he shrugs—“yeah. I guess that’s it.”

“Relocate
us . . .”

He holds the ring out to me, his face set. “This is it, Cheetah. No more dicking around. It’s Friday. We’re legal. If you still want this, we’re doing it
now
. They won’t be able to separate us if we’re married.”

I hold up my hand and butterflies swirl through my insides as he slips the ring onto my finger. He bends to kiss me. His lips are warm and firm and his strength pours into me through his touch. I fist a hand into his hair and hold him here when he tries to draw away.

When I finally let him go, he smiles. “I like the enthusiasm. Give me a sec to get everything set up.” He glances back as he slips through the door into the hall. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“I should be saying that to you,” I say, smiling back.

“Never again,” he answers, holding my gaze. Then he grins and vanishes into the hall.

It’s a minute later when a nurse pokes her head in, then steps into the room when she sees I’m awake. She’s a tall African American woman whose grin is like a beacon. “How you feeling, girlfriend?” she asks coming toward the bed.

I pull myself up a little and am surprised that, other than feeling a little weak, I seem okay. “Pretty good, actually.”

“Got you on some happy drugs to knock the pain down some,” she tells me, wrapping a blood-pressure cuff around my arm.

She sticks a thermometer in my mouth while we wait for the machine to fill the cuff, then deflate.

“Lookin’ good,” she says, pulling the thermometer out and jotting some numbers on a clipboard hooked to the end of my bed.

When she’s gone, I drop my head and stare at the ceiling. Despite the euphoria at knowing Oliver’s finally mine, my heart feels heavy in my chest, knowing what I’ve given up to get him. Rob, Ulie, Grant, and Sherm are already long gone, back at Safesite. I’ll never see them again.

A tear leaks from the corner of my eye into my ear. I quickly wipe it away when the door opens, not wanting Oliver to think I’m regretting my decision.

But it’s Wes who steps through the door. He tucks in next to the doorframe as if afraid to come too close.

“Hi,” I say, trying not to cringe. The last time I saw Wes, I was on my bed, in the arms of my fiancé. A fiancé I had neglected to mention to Wes.

Which is the whole reason I’m in the hospital now.

He looks as chagrined as I feel as he moves tentatively toward me. “Good to see your eyes open.” I’m not sure how he knows they are, since his gaze is pinned to the floor. “How are you feeling?”

I press a hand to my bandages. “Not too bad, considering.”

His eyes follow my hand and his face crumbles. “I never would have fired if—”

“It wasn’t your fault, Wes,” I interrupt. “It all just happened so fast.”

He shoves a hand into his hair. “It sure as hell wasn’t anyone else’s fault.
I
pulled the trigger, Lee.
My
sidearm.”

“But
my
mistake,” I insist. “I should have told you about Oliver.”

He hauls in a deep breath and his eyes finally find mine. “He was the one . . . all along?”

I nod, not sure what to say . . . how to explain without hurting him that there’s never been anyone else.

“I have to know . . .” he says, lowering his gaze again. “Is that the real reason you wanted to go back to the house? Did you know he’d be there?”

“I had no idea he was there. But if I
had
known, it
would
have been the reason. Oliver is my reason for everything, Wes. I love him so hard I can’t see straight.”

“So when I told you he was dead . . .” he says, his strong face pulling into a grimace.

“It nearly killed me.”

He takes a deep breath. “If I’d known, I would have handled that differently.” A nervous smile ticks his mouth. “I would have handled a lot of things differently.”

“I was so confused,” I say with an embarrassed shake of my head. “But you were a gentleman and wouldn’t take advantage of me even when I begged you to. None of what happened was your fault.”

He gives me a nod. “I saw him in the hall. Said you’re getting married ASAP.”

I lay back and stare at the ceiling. “I know it might seem impulsive, but in reality, it feels like it’s taken us forever to get here. We were both born and bred not to trust anyone, so the fact that we’ve found a way to trust each other is nothing less than miraculous. There have been so many obstacles, but we made our way through every one of them and always found each other on the other side. It just feels like we’re tempting fate to wait to get married . . . like the universe is going to throw another roadblock in our path.” I lift my head and look at him. “So, yeah. ASAP. Today, if they’ll let us.”

He tips his head and scratches the top of it. “You know you and him together complicates things from our end.”

“I know, but . . .” I smile at him. “You’re the cowboy in the white hat. I have faith in you to save the day.”

The hint of a cocky smile curves his mouth as he tips an imaginary hat at me. “At your service, ma’am,” he drawls. Then lower, “And I’m happy for you.”

He backs away from my bed, but just as he turns for the door, Rob’s bulk fills it.