Renegade (17 page)

Tippy glanced over her shoulder at him, wincing when the movement hurt her ribs. “I hate liver and on ions!”

“I know.” Cash smiled at her.

Judd chuckled as he started the big black vehicle and started out of the airport parking lot.

They pulled into the graveled driveway at Cash's house. It was a simple clapboard house, painted white with black shutters and a sprawling front porch with a swing and a rocking chair. There were rosebushes all around the porch, along with seedlings that were just sprouting in the flower bed.

Cash helped Tippy out of the SUV while Judd carried the suitcases to the porch.

“Don't you put a foot in my seedbeds,” Cash warned.

Judd stopped with one big, booted foot in midair and glanced at him. “What seedbeds?”

“The ones you're about to step on!” Cash muttered. “I planted zinnias in that one, and a mix of bluebonnets, Indian paintbrush, marigolds and daisies in the other one.”

“You like to garden?” Tippy asked him softly.

He looked down into her wide green eyes and felt the world tilt. She had lovely eyes. Even in her bruised, cut face, they were exotic and fascinating. “I like getting dirt on my hands.”

Tippy was equally lost in his eyes, feeling tingly all over from the intensity of his gaze. She wanted to move forward, to step right up against him and let his arms close around her. It wouldn't have done her ribs much good, but it was a temptation she hated having to resist.

“That's just what that drug dealer said when we arrested him last year,” Judd said without looking at the two people nearby. He'd avoided the flower beds and stuck the suitcases on the edge of the porch. “He planted two kilos of cocaine in
his
flower bed.” He grinned. “I'll bet he was hoping it would grow.”

Cash dragged his eyes away from Tippy's. “His mistake. He got ten years.”

“Sadly, he'll be replaced. In fact, he already has been. Our new crack dealer has relatives in power in the city. You don't know that, of course,” Judd cautioned her.

“Oh, I don't know anything,” Tippy agreed at once. “Ask anybody.”

“Stop that,” Cash chided, touching his finger to the tip of her nose. “You're plenty smart enough.”

Tippy smiled and flushed a little. Her eyes clung to Cash's like ivy.

Judd would have agreed that Tippy was no fool, but he felt keenly that he was trespassing in things that didn't concern him. At least Tippy and Cash seemed to be getting along well enough. That was a start.

“Christabel says you can both come to supper when ever you want to,” Judd offered. “Tonight, if you like.”

Tippy hesitated, looking up at Cash.

“She's had a hard few days, and the plane trip was no picnic, even if they were smooth flights,” Cash told Judd. “But we'll take you up on it next week.”

“Thank Christabel for me, too,” Tippy added gently. “I know it would be an imposition for her to have company with two infants.”

“They're not quite infants anymore,” Judd chuckled. “They're crawling.”

“Already?” Cash exclaimed. “Jessamina, too?”

Judd glowered at him. “She has a brother. His name is Jared.”

“I know that,” Cash replied. “But he's yours.” He swaggered. “Jessamina is mine. You wait and see.”

Judd almost bit his tongue in two not suggesting that Cash could ask Tippy for a daughter of his own. The loss of their baby had devastated Cash. Apparently it had wounded Tippy as well, because her eyes clouded at the talk of Judd's children.

But she recovered quickly when she remembered Cash's pet. “Your snake!” she exclaimed. “Is it…in there?” she added worriedly.

“Don't worry,” he said patiently. “I figured you'd go nuts with a snake in the house, so I gave Mikey back to Bill Harris.”

“Thanks,” she said, and meant it.

“I have to get home. But we should go inside first,” Judd said quickly.

“All three of us?” Cash asked hesitantly.

“Definitely all three of us.”

Judd went up onto the porch and opened the door.

“That's breaking and entering, Dunn,” Cash admonished.

“It isn't if you have the permission of the owner.”

“I'm the owner, and you don't,” Cash rejoined.

Judd only chuckled.

They walked inside to a dining-room table piled high with food. There were covered casseroles, platters of ham and cheese, a huge salad, homemade biscuits and at least five desserts.

Lieutenant Barrett, slim and dark-headed, was holding a big bag, grinning. “Just made it in time, chief,” he told Cash. “We had all the wives baking today, so you wouldn't have to cook when you came home. We know how you like Julia Garcia's biscuits and homemade preserves, too, so we had her put in a jar of blackberry jam and some grape jelly and a whole pan of biscuits. He's not as bad as the Hart brothers,” he told Tippy, “but that's a man who really appreciates a fluffy biscuit.”

“Lieutenant Garcia's wife makes the best ones around,” Judd added.

“Thanks,” Cash said, taken aback. “I didn't expect this.”

“You've had a long week,” Judd said simply. “We thought you'd be too tired to cook.”

“I am. What about Miss Jewell?” he added.

“She'll be over as soon as she's got her things together,” Judd said. “She said it would be about an hour from now. She's sort of a practical nurse who sits with sick people,” he told Tippy. “Sandie Jewell is in her fifties, and she loves to cook. You'll like her. She saw your movie in the theater and thought it was grand. She'll pump you for information about the actor who was in it with you, though. She's a real fan of Rance Wayne.”

Tippy smiled. “Okay,” she said. “I'll try not to tell her too much about him, so she can keep her illusions.” She touched her bruised face self-consciously. “Nobody's going to believe I was ever in a movie if they see me like this.”

“Cuts and bruises fade, Miss Tippy,” Lieutenant Barrett said gently. “You're going to be fine.”

“Thanks,” she said shyly.

“Well, let's be off,” Judd told Barrett.

“I didn't see your car,” Cash mentioned to Barrett.

“That's because I dropped him off with the food be fore I went to pick you up,” Judd confided with a grin. “We didn't want his car to tip you off too soon.”

“It was a surprise,” Cash admitted, and he smiled. “Thanks. Tell Mrs. Garcia those preserves won't be wasted, or the biscuits, either. I'll enjoy them.”

“If you're quick enough, you will,” Tippy said impishly. “I love biscuits with blackberry preserves. My grandmother used to make them for me when I was little.”

“We'll leave before hostilities ensue,” Judd said. He gave them both a wink. “Let's not have any calls about altercations from the neighbors, okay?”

“I never altercate,” Cash said, deadpan. “I hear it causes blindness.”

Tippy had to hold her ribs to keep them from killing her while she laughed until tears stung her eyes.

Cash grinned at her and then left to walk Judd and Barrett to the SUV.

 

H
E WAS BACK LESS THAN
five minutes later. He didn't tell her what he'd said to them, about the threat from Carrera's former employee and the risk of a hired killer coming after Tippy. But they knew to keep a close vigil on the house when he wasn't in it. He was also going to keep loaded guns around the house, in an unobtrusive way. He was also going to keep Tippy from knowing that in addition to sitting with sick people, Mrs. Jewell was a former special deputy with the local sheriff's department. Her son was a police officer who worked for Cash. The woman could handle a pistol almost as proficiently as Cash himself, and
she was afraid of nothing on earth. If there was trouble, she'd keep Tippy safe when he wasn't around, until help came.

“This was so nice of them,” Tippy murmured, looking over the loaded table. “I'm not used to this much food at one time.”

“You need protein to help you heal,” he pointed out. “Don't worry about any extra pounds. You've lost enough lately that you can afford to put on a little.”

She turned toward him and looked up at him, bird like. “Do you think I'm too thin? Honestly?”

He drew in a slow breath. “Your figure isn't my business,” he said, as gently as he could. “I brought you here to protect you…”

She'd withdrawn mentally even before he got the words out. She smiled. It was a plastic smile. “I know that,” she said. “I was just making conversation. Now where's that jam?”

Cash watched her take out paper plates and utensils from the sack that was included and remove lids from the plastic food containers.

“This looks wonderful,” she murmured. Inside, her heart was breaking in two. She'd had hopes, dreams, that she couldn't put to rest, all about Cash. But he didn't want her permanently, and she had to find a way to face that. He might find her attractive, desirable, but that was surface stuff. He didn't want commitment. And she did.

“This looks like squash,” she murmured.

Cash made a terrible face. “Where's my gun?”

She gave him a superior look. “Squash is a noble vegetable. Indians gave it to the white man. You have Native American ancestry. Therefore, you should love squash.”

“The Indians only gave it to the white man to get rid of it,” he said right back.

She laughed, putting a big spoonful of the delicious-smelling
casserole on her plate. She brought it up to her nose and sniffed. “Mmm,” she murmured.

“Yuch,” he replied, moving away from the evil thing.

They filled their plates quickly and quietly. There had been no food service on either of the planes, unless you could call peanuts food. Cash poured sweetened tea from a jug into glasses filled with ice he'd found in his refrigerator. He put the jug of tea back in it.

“I'm glad they made tea for us. I love it,” he commented as they sat down in adjoining chairs to eat.

“I'm not allowed sweet tea when I'm on the job,” she said. “Calories.”

“All food has calories,” he retorted.

“Yes, but sugar has the nutritional content of card board.”

“No wonder you're so slender.”

“It isn't lack of food that does that, it's the pace.” She shifted. The movement was still uncomfortable. “Filming is a torturous process. An action film like this one has all sorts of physical demands, from martial arts to stunts…” She recalled the fall, and the loss of her baby, and the explanation faded away.

He glanced at her lost expression. “Don't do that,” he said gently. “Looking back doesn't solve any problems, it only causes new ones. Nothing you do can change what happened.”

She lowered her fork to some potato salad and lifted it to her lips. “I was never pregnant before.”

“It would have killed your career,” he said curtly.

“They could have filmed around me,” she said simply. “It wouldn't have been that hard. In fact, Joel actually wrote a pregnancy into one script when his leading lady announced her good news in the middle of filming.”

He glanced at her curiously. She didn't sound like a woman who couldn't balance work with motherhood. In fact, she made it sound easy.

She noted his close scrutiny and laughed. “Don't worry, you're perfectly safe. I can't even remember the last time I tried to get a man pregnant.”

She'd waited until he took a big sip of tea to say that. Predictably, the tea was airborne immediately.

She laughed while he cursed. She handed him two napkins and watched him mop up his white T-shirt. “Sorry,” she said. “Couldn't resist it. You did look so somber.”

He gave her a long look. “I don't get mad. I get even.”

She chuckled. “I'll take my chances. It was worth it.”

He lifted the tea to his lips again with a secret smile. Whatever her residence brought, it wasn't going to be boring.

S
ANDIE
J
EWELL WAS FIFTYISH
, tall, slender and dark-eyed, with wavy light brown hair cut short and a beaming smile. Tippy liked her at once. She was nobody's idea of the matronly female.

She checked Tippy's medication to make sure she kept it on schedule, although it was only antibiotics and a tablet that helped keep her lungs clear. She hurried Tippy off to her bedroom after supper, because she needed to rest after the long trip.

When Tippy was comfortably settled, Sandie closed the door and went into the kitchen to talk to Cash.

“Is she resting?” Cash asked, offering her coffee, which she accepted.

“She's tired,” Sandie replied, “and there's a little more congestion in that lung. I'm going to get her up and walking in the morning, and fill her full of fluids to thin the secretions.
Lord, she looks like a walking car accident victim!” she added, shaking her head. “I'll never understand what makes a man do that to a woman.”

“We've both seen enough cases of domestic abuse,” Cash agreed. “She has to be watched all the time. If Stanton does send a hired gun out here after her, we can't risk being surprised. I tucked your .45 in its case into the bathroom closet, up high, behind some towels. It's loaded.”

“Thanks. If I have to use it,” she told him, “I won't miss.”

He smiled. “I know that. I appreciate you staying with her, Sandie. There's nobody I trust more.”

“You going in tonight?”

“Thought I might…”

Just as he spoke, the phone rang. He picked it up quickly, before it disturbed Tippy. “Grier,” he said at once.

“Chief, you'd better come over here,” one of his officers said hesitantly. “There's some trouble.”

“What sort?” he asked.

“Two of our patrol officers just made an arrest for drunk driving. They brought the perp in, handcuffed, and did a breath test. He failed. They're filing a citation. He's hopping mad and threatening to have their jobs.”

“Who is he?”

There was a pause. “State Senator Merrill.”

Cash took a long breath. This was any police officer's worst nightmare. Most politicians would fire any officer who dared to arrest them. Certainly, they'd do their best to make the arresting officer quit. Cash had seen it happen in a dozen cities over the years.

“The acting mayor phoned and told me to fire the arresting officers on the spot,” the watch commander added.

“You're firing nobody, on my orders,” Cash said at once.
“I'll be there in ten minutes. You tell Brady he'll have to talk to me before any jobs are sacrificed, and that goes double for Senator Merrill.”

“The senator's daughter is on her way here, too. She's thick with Jordan Powell.”

Powell was a rich rancher. Very rich, and very high-tempered. Cash wondered if facing down a hit man wasn't an easier proposition than stepping into this lava pit.

“I'm on my way. Keep your cool,” Cash told the man.

Sandie shook her head when he hung up the phone. “No need to tell me what's going on. One of our deputies got fired for pulling over a state legislator once. Never had a chance.”

“These officers aren't walking,” he said curtly.

Cash put on his uniform, took his service revolver and holster out of his desk drawer and put them on.

The bustle of activity made Tippy curious. She came out of her bedroom and down the hall, stopping short when she saw Cash in uniform. It was a shock, even though she'd seen him that way when she was filming in Jacobsville. It had been a long time.

“You look very nice. Are you going to work at this hour?” she asked.

He glanced at her. “Go back to bed. You need to be resting. I've got a small problem downtown. I'll be back when I can.”

Tippy had to bite her tongue to stop from saying “be careful.” She had a sudden, shocking glimpse of what it would be like if they were married and she had to watch him go to work every day, knowing he might not come home.

The knowledge was in her whole expression. Cash saw it and was disturbed by it. He checked his weapon and holstered it before walking to Tippy and taking her gently by the shoulders.

“This is what I do,” he said softly. “I don't know a way of life that doesn't involve risk of some sort. In fact, I don't think I could live without it.”

She couldn't help feeling that he was making a statement about their future. She managed a smile. “I know you're good at what you do. Judd told me.”

His big hands lifted to frame her face. “I'm always careful, and the only real risks I take are calculated ones. I'm not suicidal, even remotely. It's carelessness that gets you killed in this business.”

She drew in a long breath and lifted her hands to straighten his tie. She smiled, because it was such an intimate, domestic thing to do. “Don't get killed,” she said simply.

His heart jumped. He bent and drew his lips very softly over her full lips. She wasn't wearing makeup to camouflage her bruises, but she was still beautiful. She smelled vaguely of roses.

She lifted her face closer to his, her eyes closed, her mouth smiling. Her hands were on his chest now, because it was painful to lift them as far as his tie. She loved letting him kiss her. This was a slow, tender kiss tasting unlike the kisses that had gone before. This one wasn't urgent or passionate or ardent. It was gentle. It made promises.

“Go back to bed,” he said when he lifted his head. His dark eyes were turbulent. “This may take a while.”

“Okay.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Doesn't that sound docile,” he chided, studying her guileless smile. “And the minute I walk out the door, you'll be cleaning the kitchen or trying to rear range the cabinets.”

“Not yet. It still hurts too much.” She smiled demurely.

“I'll wait until next week, at least.”

He chuckled softly. “Don't get too comfortable,” he murmured. “I'm a happy bachelor.”

“There's no such thing,” she replied smugly.

He gave her a daunting look, but she kept smiling.

“Did somebody rob a bank?” she probed.

“They're trying to fire two of my officers for stopping a politician who was driving drunk,” he replied.

Her eyes opened wide. “Why?”

“Because he's a rich politician.”

“Big deal,” she said flatly. “The law is the law.”

“Darling!” he exclaimed and kissed her firmly. He drew back at once, and chuckled at her expression. “Don't get your hopes up. That was an accident.”

She cocked her head, curious.

He shrugged. “I like it when you take my side.”

She grinned. “I know where we could get a ring,” she said to irritate him.

He pursed his lips. “So do I, but we're not getting one.”

Tippy spotted Mrs. Jewell at the kitchen door. “Mrs. Jewell, he's toying with my affections and he won't marry me.”

Mrs. Jewell gaped at her.

“No, he won't,” Cash agreed pleasantly. “And I am not toying with your affections. I only kissed you because you think I'm right.”

“No, you didn't. You kissed me because you couldn't help yourself.” She struck a pose, despite the twinge of pain in her rib cage. “I'm simply irresistible.”

“You need a guitar and a band and you can sing that,” he pointed out.

She remembered the song he was alluding to, whose wonderful composer had died. “It was a great song.”

“I thought so, too,” he said. He gave her a wicked look. “Go to bed.”

She wiggled her eyebrows at him.

“And you stop that,” he added firmly. “Mrs. Jewell is going to protect me from you, so watch your step.”

“You're really going to do that?” Tippy asked the older woman. “Don't you like me?”

Mrs. Jewell burst out laughing. Cash took the opportunity to shoot out the door while he was still one step ahead.

“I've known him almost a year,” she told Tippy, as they listened to his car drive away. “Never saw him laugh as much as he has in the past few minutes. I think he's sweet on you.”

“I'm hurt and he feels sorry for me,” Tippy replied carelessly. “But he doesn't growl so much when I'm teasing him.”

Mrs. Jewell's dark eyes didn't miss much. “Love him a lot, don't you?” she probed.

Tippy hesitated, then she smiled and sighed. “For all the good it will do either one of us. He's not a marrying man, and he sees me as a risk.”

“What you are on the screen isn't what you are at home,” the other woman pointed out.

“How perceptive of you,” Tippy said, surprised. “Most people can't see that.”

“I've had a lot of practice sizing up people,” Mrs. Jewel said. “Now you get back in bed, Miss Tippy. You need rest, so that you can get better.”

Tippy touched her face. The cuts were still sore and red. “I must look terrible,” she said.

“You look like someone who's been hurt, dear,” came the soft reply. “Those cuts and bruises will heal. So will your ribs. But you must rest and drink lots of fluids so that you don't let your lungs get any more congested. Flying in a pressurized cabin can't have helped them.”

“It didn't, very much,” Tippy confessed. “But driving that distance would have been so much worse. I've got medicine,
and I promise I'll take it. I really want to finish this film, so I get paid.” She noticed how the older woman was looking at her and felt anger about the tabloids' reporting of her earlier accident.

“An assistant director swore that jump was harmless and refused to hire a stunt double,” she explained. “I didn't have a good feeling about it, but I didn't want to lose my job because I was being paranoid about risking the pregnancy. I didn't have much money coming in, and there was my little brother's school fees and my rent to pay. I'd done similar stunts without an accident so I foolishly trusted the assistant director and took a chance I should have refused to take. As a result, I lost my footing and fell. And I lost my baby,” she added, almost choking on the words.

Mrs. Jewell winced. “I lost two,” she said softly. “I know how it feels.”

The two women exchanged looks. Words weren't even necessary.

“Go back to bed,” Mrs. Jewell prompted. “I'll bring you something nice to drink and then maybe you can sleep.”

“I won't until Cash comes home,” Tippy said worriedly.

The other woman chuckled, herding Tippy toward the bedroom. “That's one man you never have to worry about. He can take care of himself. Wait and see!”

 

T
HE POLICE STATION
, usually quiet with a skeleton crew on the night shift, was literally a hothouse of activity. Three patrol officers were standing around the desk at which the night secretary/bookkeeper worked. A senior citizen was weaving slightly and making threats of immediate action against two patrol officers—a male and a female—who were tight-lipped and worried. A beautiful young woman in expensive clothes
was telling everyone what was going to happen if they didn't drop the charges against her father immediately.

Cash walked in, his very stride threatening. “Okay, what's up?” he asked curtly.

Everybody started talking at once.

Cash held up his hand. “Who made the collar?” he asked.

Lieutenant Carlos Garcia, a veteran officer who was in charge of the patrol unit, and Officer Dana Hall, a new female recruit, stepped forward. Cash knew them well. Garcia's wife was the county public health nurse, be loved by the local citizens. Dana's late father had been one of the most respected superior court judges in the circuit.

“Hall was riding with me,” Garcia said quietly. “We observed a car weaving in and out of its lane and bumping the shoulder repeatedly. We followed him for a mile to make sure the complaint was valid. He almost hit another car head-on. That was when I threw on my lights and siren and pulled him over.”

“Go on.” Cash urged him to continue.

“Hall and I approached the car in a textbook manner, one on either side of the car, in case the suspect was armed. I asked to see his license and registration, but the perpetrator immediately stepped out and began making threats. I smelled alcohol on his breath, so I tested his reflexes by making him touch his nose with his eyes closed and walk a straight line. He couldn't do either.”

“What happened next?” Cash probed.

“I then advised him that I was bringing him into the station for a breath test. He began cursing me and began resisting arrest. I subdued him while Hall handcuffed him. We brought him in, and administered the test. His blood alcohol is .15—which puts him well over the legal limit for alcohol
consumption—so I issued a citation, locked him up and had our bookkeeper Miss Phibbs phone his daughter, at his request, to sign a property bond and secure his release until his hearing.”

“You can't arrest my father for drunk driving the month before the primary election!” the senator's pretty blond daughter protested. “I want these officers fired. My father is not drunk!”

“Indeed, I am…am not!” the senator mumbled. “You're all fired!” he added, weaving.

“Since you've posted bond, you can go home in your daughter's custody,” Cash told the older man pleasantly. “You'll appear in city court before the city judge to defend the charge. At that time, the judge will make a decision about the possible revocation of your driver's license.”

“Our attorney will take care of all that, the minute I can get in touch with him. You can bet on it!” the senator's daughter said haughtily.

“You can't take away my license, I'm a senator!” the old man said belligerently.

“That will be for the court to decide.”

“I'll have your job for this!” the senator raged furiously.

Before the situation could escalate, the acting mayor, Ben Brady, came into the station in a T-shirt and slacks that looked hastily thrown on. “What's going on?” he asked, and the arresting officers had to explain the situation once more.