The Sheriff's Surrender (27 page)

Reese walked to the safe room door, acutely aware of Forbes directly behind him, of Troy a few feet farther back and the third man, standing on the other side of the bed. He focused his gaze on the damaged steel door and called, “Ms. Madison… It's Sheriff Barnett. Can you hear me?”

Neely's voice came through the door, weak and thready as if from a great distance. “Y-yes.”

“There are three people out here who would like to talk to you. How about opening the door?”

For a long moment there was nothing but silence, then finally came the familiar scrape of the bar being raised, followed by the twist of the lock. He shifted to the right as she slowly
opened the door so that, for one instant, he was the only one who could see her. She was pale, frightened, shaky, but also grimly determined. He wished he could tell her how sorry he was and how much he loved her, but he had time to mouth only one word.
Gun?

She nodded.

Forbes pushed him aside then and smiled warmly. “Ms. Madison. You're a difficult woman to find.”

She smiled, too, a cool, deadly smile, then pulled her hand from her pocket and shot him, center-mass, at point-blank range.

Troy and his partner gaped in surprise, but before either of them could react, Brady rolled onto his back, sweeping Troy's feet out from under him, then delivering a kick that sent his pistol flying. As the other man took aim, Reese lunged, knocking Neely to the floor. He maneuvered her against the bed, then shielded her body with his own, but the next shot didn't come. What they did hear in the silence was a quiet, familiar voice.

“Hey, bud. Did you know it's impossible to miss your target at this close range?” Jace asked conversationally. “Why don't you take your finger off that trigger and give me the gun? 'Cause if you don't, I'm gonna have to pull this trigger, and there won't be enough left of your face for your mama to identify.” Raising his voice, he went on. “Reese? Neely? You guys all right?”

“Yeah,” Reese replied. “We're fine.” He raised his head to find her staring at him. He'd expected tears, grief, overwhelming guilt. There was some regret, but mostly he saw relief. Tenderness. Love.

He eased off of her, tried to raise his hand to her face but couldn't, so settled for kissing her instead. “You're not going back to Kansas City.”

“No,” she agreed. “I'm staying here and spending the rest of my life with you whether you want me or not.”

“I've always wanted you. I always will.” He studied her intently. “Are you all right?”

She nodded. “Are you?”

He nodded, too. The pain, the sick feeling, the fear—they were all gone. There was only relief. Satisfaction. And love. “You gonna marry me?”

“Yes.”

“You gonna tell me you love me?”

She smiled a slow, lazy, womanly smile. “As soon as we get someplace that's not all shot up, I'm gonna show you…over and over.”

“Promises, promises,” he murmured.

“The safe room's right here.”

“And God bless it.” He nuzzled her hair from her ear and was making her shiver when she said, “Hi, Jace.”

Reese looked up to see his cousin standing over them. Behind him, Brady was on his feet, unhandcuffed, and standing guard over the remaining two thugs.

“Hey, darlin',” Jace said in response to Neely's greeting.

“You do know how to stir up some excitement, don't you?”

“Hey, I didn't do any of this. I was cowering in the safe room until a few minutes ago.”

“If Reese has any brains, he'll turn this whole house into a safe room. It seems the only way to keep you out of trouble.”

“I only get into trouble because I do my job right. A very smart man told me so.” She sat up, then helped Reese sit up. When Jace tossed her his keys, she caught them, then removed Reese's handcuffs before tossing them back. With a wicked smile, she closed both cuffs, then slid them into her pocket.

“For later.”

In spite of her apparently easy mood, Reese noticed when they got to their feet that she avoided looking at Forbes. He put his left arm around her—the right one was beyond using at the moment—and held her tight. “Damn, I love you,” he murmured in her ear.

A shudder vibrated through her, then she lifted her head from his shoulder to look at him. Now the tears he'd expected
earlier were in her eyes. “See?” she whispered. “I told you you knew the magic words. I love you, too, Reese.”

His house had been shot up, at least five men lay dead or wounded on the floors, and he'd killed his share of them. His own wounds were bleeding again and hurt like the fires of Hades. Brady had come closer to dying than any man ever should, and with more courage than most men ever could. Hell, he and Neely had come close to dying.

But none of it seemed important at the moment, because she'd been right. He was a smart man, and he knew her well. He knew which words hurt, which ones healed and which ones made everything right.

He knew the magic words.

And so did she.

T
he Fourth of July was hot and humid, with a sun bright enough to blind the eyes and fry the brain, but no one at the second annual Harris celebration seemed to notice. There were burgers and hot dogs cooking on the grill, galvanized tubs filled with ice and pop, tables and chairs set up under tall shade trees, a couple of fans stretched out with extension cords to stir the heavy air, and enough good friendship to make anything bearable.

Neely was leaning against the board fence of the corral, waiting while Reese admired Guthrie Harris's new custom-made saddle in the tack room. It was the work of the newest business in Heartbreak, a saddle- and boot-maker who'd opened a shop downtown and lived up above, and was Olivia Harris's anniversary gift to her husband.

Maybe she would give Reese something similar for their first anniversary, Neely thought dreamily. Of course, they had to get married first, which would happen as soon as the repairs on the house were finished…and after Reese's parents had their chance to tie the knot…and presuming the trials of the
surviving hit men didn't interfere. But when they married wasn't so important. Being together—that was what mattered.

“Hey, Miss Neely,” the Harris twins greeted in unison. Elly climbed onto the fence, sitting astride the top rail. Emma wrinkled her nose and looked up. “I don't want to get my dress dirty or maybe tear it by climbing.”

“Want me to lift you up?” Neely offered, then, when the girl nodded, did so.

Elly gave an ear-splitting whistle, then asked, “You seen my horse, Cherokee?”

“I think the horses decided it would be quieter behind the barn.”

“Huh. I'll go see.” She leaped to the ground inside the fence and tore off across the corral. Her twin watched her go, then gave a long-suffering sigh. “Elly can't sit still to save her life. Miss Mary calls her a critter. Daddy says she's just got lots of energy, and Mama says she's just bein' Elly and I'm just bein' Emma and that's all right.”

“Just being Emma is better than all right. It's perfect,” Neely said with a smile. Emma was the little girl most mothers dreamed of—well behaved, polite, demure, happier in frilly dresses, lacy socks and floppy hats than anything else. Elly called her prissy, and in her few weeks as part of Heartbreak's community, Neely had heard a remark or two about her timidity, but she thought Emma really was the perfect little girl.

Of course, so was Elly. And their cousin Annie Grace was the perfect baby, as was their brother, Taylor. These days, Neely thought all kids were wonderful. She could hardly wait for one of her own. She and Reese had been working on that quite a bit lately. She'd never had such fun.

“I like your hat, Miss Neely.”

“I like yours, too, Miss Emma. We almost match, don't we?” They both wore sundresses in soft pastels, sandals, and straw hats tied around the brim with pastel ribbons.

“You could pass for mother and daughter,” Reese said as he and Guthrie joined them.

“Hey, no one's claiming my daughter,” Guthrie said,
swinging her onto his shoulders. “I worked too hard to get her, and I'm keeping her.”

Neely listened to Emma's giggles as Guthrie carried her back to the celebration in the yard. No one would guess to see them together that they weren't related by blood, or that a year or so ago was the first time they'd laid eyes on each other. They were so perfect together.

“Having a good time?” Reese asked, leaning against the section of fence Emma had vacated.

“Hmm. You have good friends, Sheriff Barnett.”

“
We
have good friends.” He studied her, his gaze intent, for so long that she shifted uncomfortably, then laughed awkwardly, then finally leaned back against his chest so he couldn't see her face.

“Don't do that,” she teased as he wrapped his arms around her. “I feel like a bug under a microscope.”

“Sorry. Sometimes I just can't believe you're here, and that you're all right, and that we're all right.”

He'd expected her last dealings with Forbes to cause some problems for her. Truthfully, so had she. She was so accustomed to accepting blame and guilt, and she had
killed
the man—had pointed a gun at him, deliberately pulled the trigger and ended his life.

But she'd grown up some, or developed more of a backbone, or gotten a more realistic take on life. The simple truth was she'd protected herself, the man she loved and another man willing to die for her. If she hadn't killed Eddie Forbes, he would have killed them. Kill or be killed. If faced with the same situation a hundred times over, she would do the same thing every time. She was sorry he'd forced her to make that choice, but she wasn't sorry she'd done it.

The final body count that night had been seven. The house had looked like a war zone, and Reese and Brady had looked as if they'd been put through the wringer, while she'd felt it. Only Jace had been cool and unruffled when it was all over. Of course, only Jace hadn't killed anyone, or faced anyone trying to kill him.

“I wish Brady had come today,” she murmured. “I hate to think of him sitting home all alone on a holiday.”

“You can't make the man be sociable. He's always been a loner. I imagine he always will be.” He nuzzled her hair from her ear and made her shiver. “I'm sorry Hallie didn't make it.”

“She probably met husband number four on her way to the airport and went off to Tahiti instead.” Feeling a little blue about her recent divorce, Hallie had called two days ago to say she would be in town that morning to spend the Fourth with them, and if Buffalo Plains and Heartbreak weren't just too distressingly different from Los Angeles, she might stick around awhile and give Neely the benefit of her exquisite taste in finishing up Reese's house.

Neely had rolled her eyes and mouthed to Reese,
God save us.
Hallie's exquisite taste came with exquisite price tags and was better suited to Beverly Hills or Palm Beach than Heartbreak.

“But that's okay,” she went on. “She'll show up for the wedding, dressed to dazzle all the local yokels. She might even break a heart or two before jetting off to London or Paris.”

“You've already dazzled this local yokel so thoroughly he couldn't look at another woman if he wanted.”

She turned in the circle of his arms and twined her arms around his neck. “Which, of course, he doesn't.”

“For damn sure.” He was bending his head to kiss her, his lips brushing tantalizingly over hers, when Jace spoke up from behind her.

“We've been looking all over for you guys, and here you are, making out like teenagers. Jeez, bubba, are you so grownup that you've forgotten you're supposed to neck
behind
the barn, not out front where everyone can see?”

Ignoring him for the moment, Neely and Reese smiled tenderly at each other. She knew the words whispering in his mind as surely as if he'd spoken them out aloud…and one special time, he had.
I've been looking my whole life for the place where I belong, and here you are.

He bent close again, kissed her sweetly, chastely, then murmured, for her ears only, “And here you are.”

“And here we are,” she gently corrected him before turning to greet Jace.

Together, alive, happy, whole and in love in Heartbreak. It was nothing less than magic.