Edge of the Enforcer

by Cherise Sinclair

  Zander wasn’t holding her anymore. He was so distant, he could have been in a whole different county. She pushed to her feet.

  Her legs trembled, but she could walk. Their old tracks would lead her back to the lodge.

  “Lindsey.” Simon had risen to his feet. “We need to hear the rest and figure out how to fix this.”

  She couldn’t keep from looking at Zander. His face was expressionless, his eyes flat and cold, as if he’d never met her before. She wanted to kick him.

  To cry.

  The deadness inside her grew, a black hole sucking away all warmth. She’d move on again…to nothing. Why hadn’t she just let Ricks kill her? “No need. I’ll be gone within a half hour.”

  Zander didn’t speak.

  “Hey, deVries, thanks for believing in me.” She burned to say more, to scream at him, but her throat closed with sobs instead, and she walked away.

  The trail down kept tripping her as her blurry eyes missed seeing logs and rocks. Eventually she realized footsteps trailed behind her. Hopes rising, she turned.

  Not Zander. Logan.

  “Go away.”

  “Sorry, sugar. I’m walking you down.” He didn’t look as if he’d listen to reason or sentiment. In fact, he looked about as tractable as the granite mountaintop behind him.

  Fine. Without speaking, she spun and kept going. At least anger burned the tears away for the moment.

  “HEY, DEVRIES, THANKS for believing in me.” The bitterness in her voice was a knife to deVries’s skin. His heart.

  Dammit, she’d killed her husband. Whom she’d married for money. DeVries felt as if he had blundered into a firefight. The thunder still hung in the air. He shook his head hard, trying to cast off the fucked-up shit in his skull. Forcing himself to not run after her was one of the hardest things he’d ever done.

  He had to get his act together first.

  He realized Logan had gone with her. That was good. Should have been him. Jesus, someone better shoot him for real. Guilt twisted the blade already stuck in his chest. How could he have fucked her up like that?

  He couldn’t hold back any longer; he needed to get to her. He pushed to his feet. His snow-crusted, wet jeans stuck to his skin, hindering his balance for a second. He started after her.

  “You leave her alone,” Simon snapped, grabbing deVries’s arm, spinning him around. “You’ve done enough damage.”

  DeVries staggered back a step.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Simon shoved him another foot.

  “She got me by surprise—and I’m a fucking asshole.” Unwilling to fight, deVries caught the next blow and held.

  Eyes black with fury, Simon slapped deVries’s fingers from his wrist. “She needed your support.”

  The blade dug deeper into his soul. “I know. I fucked up.” Turning away, deVries unloaded the revolver and tucked it, bullets, and gear into his range bag. “I got to get down there.”

  “I’ll bring Logan’s bag. Head out.”

  Simon caught up to him a few minutes later on the trail. “Would you mind telling me what happened there?”

  DeVries worked his jaw and forced the words out. “My wife dumped me to marry a rich dude. For his money. Hearing Lindsey did the same…”

  “You don’t know that. She told us what the bastard said.”

  “Simon, I think she did.” The first morning, he’d asked, “What did you do—marry for money?” and her guilt had been obvious. After stepping over a half-buried log, he ducked a snow-covered branch hanging over the trail. “But dammit, money doesn’t mean much to her.”

  “No. It doesn’t.”

  DeVries sucked in a breath. “I had a brain-dead moment.” From the very beginning, he’d found she didn’t care about getting rich. In fact, rather than conning him out of grocery funds, she’d tried to convince him she loved mac ‘n’ cheese. Had told him the best accommodations came with pets—like the mouse in her kitchen. She hadn’t wanted to accept a lower rent from her friend. Never asked him for anything. Hell, she had more pride than sense sometimes. “If Lindsey married the bastard for money, she had a hell of a good reason—and it probably wasn’t for her.”

  “I’m pleased to see you’re not a total moron,” Simon said in a dry voice.

  He deserved the reprimand. “Since the killing was self-defense, why’s she running and using a fake name?” Why was she wanted in Texas for murdering a cop?

  “Let’s find out.”

  “Yeah.”

  The trail emerged from the forest and into the lodge clearing. DeVries headed down the winding path leading to the cabin.

  They met Logan halfway there. “Here.” He tossed Lindsey’s keys to Simon—rather than deVries.

  Ignoring the unspoken insult, deVries asked, “She see you take them?”

  “Nope.” Logan gave him a hard look. “Your head on straight yet?”

  DeVries suppressed the urge to bury his fist in the man’s gut. He’d earned Logan’s question. “Got bit by shit in the past. I fucked up.”

  The muscles in Logan’s jaw eased as he shrugged. “I can’t bust you for something I’ve done myself. Thank fuck women are forgiving creatures.”

  “Is she packing?” Simon asked, handing Logan his bag.

  “Not yet.” A glimmer of a smile lit Logan’s eyes. “I told her if she didn’t get in the shower and warm up, I’d strip her down and put her there.”

  “If you manhandled Lindsey, Becca will poison your supper,” Simon said. “And Rona will help.”

  Logan chuckled. “I know. But it made a fine threat.” He led the way back to Lindsey and deVries’s cabin. “Do you want me there or not?”

  DeVries considered. “She’s been running for months. You block the door—let her know that’s over. And you’ll be one more ally when she realizes she’s got to stop.” He looked at Simon. “I lead. Step in if I overlook something.”

  Both men nodded agreement.

  “You want a minute to apologize before we come in?” Simon asked.

  He did—but he didn’t deserve it. “I fucked up in front of you; I can man up and grovel there too.”

  Logan barked a laugh.

  Simon used the keys to open the door and handed them to deVries.

  Lindsey stood in the center of the room. Still dressed. Shivering slightly. He’d bet she turned on the shower to fool Logan and never undressed. She saw deVries and took a step back. “Get out!”

  He set his range bag down. When he walked forward, the speed with which she retreated hurt his heart. God, he was an asshole.

  Her back bumped into the wall. “Go away.”

  “No.” He braced his palms on the logs on each side of her shoulders, trapping her and hopefully ensuring she’d listen. “Lindsey, I’m sorry. I fucked up.”

  “Get—what?” Her brown eyes flickered up to his before she looked away.

  “I heard the ‘married for money’ business, and my own shit buggered my mind. But”—he leaned his forehead against hers, his lips almost touching—“I know you. If you married him for money, you had a fucking good reason.”

  Her breathing hitched. “You don’t think I’m a…a whore?”

  God, he should be horsewhipped for giving her any cause to believe he wasn’t in her corner. “Not even close. Can you forgive me for taking a minute to get my head out of my ass?”

  Tears swam in her brown eyes.

  “Fuck, don’t cry.” She was going to bust his heart open.

  She swiped her arm over her eyes and huffed. “You’re a sadist. You like tears.”

  He kissed her damp cheek, tasting the salt. “Not this kind. Never this kind.” The tightness in his chest loosened when she let him gather her in. He molded her against him, feeling as if he’d climbed out of the fog into the sunlight. Soft and sweet. Logan was right. Thank fucking God good women were forgiving.

  Unable to release her for long minutes, he cuddled her. Her breathing hitched a few times as if she held back sobs—tough Tex
an—and finally, he felt the stiffness ease from her small frame.

  With a feeling of loss, he pulled away. Jesus, he didn’t want to do this, to drag her into reliving a nightmare. A man fought to keep his woman from unhappiness. And he couldn’t this time. He inhaled a measured breath and checked his control. “Now, let’s finish this, baby.”

  She went stiff, brittle as glass. “I don’t think so.”

  Stubborn little submissive. “I do.”

  With a shove hard enough to knock him away, she ran, then realized Logan blocked the door. She skidded to a halt. Her eyes widened at the sight of Simon in a chair beside the small wood stove.

  She spun to face deVries. “This is none of your business. I won’t talk about it.”

  “Yeah, it is. Yeah, you will.” His toy bag was still on the bed, so he took out two short lengths of rope. When he walked toward her, she retreated…right into Simon.

  Simon pulled her onto his lap and held her forearms out to deVries.

  “No!” She struggled…halfheartedly. Her fear was obvious, but she needed help and deep down, she knew it.

  “No more running, pet. That option is gone,” he said gently. With one segment of rope, he tied her wrists together and used the second length on her ankles. The ropes would drive home that escape wasn’t possible. “You’re going to let us help you.”

  He scooped her up, holding her firmly. Mercilessly.

  Surrounded by Doms, restrained, choices gone. Showing her subconscious had surrendered, she sagged against him. Right where he wanted her.

  Cradling her gently, he sat on the low bed. “He—Victor—was going to kill you. What happened?”

  Her level gaze met his. She’d lived a nightmare but wasn’t trapped in it now.

  “I’ve got you, baby. Share with me.” Trust me. Please.

  When she started to speak, he felt his eyes burn with tears. He’d stretched the bond between them, and yet it hadn’t broken.

  “Victor took a step forward, and the boy kind of rolled into him.” She looked down at her bound wrists. “I don’t know why—trying to save me or panicking. Victor stumbled back into the crates and dropped the pistol, and it slid a little ways. I was still on the floor, and I jumped for it.”

  Her hands fisted. “I grabbed the gun and rolled over. Victor lunged too, and he hit my foot and landed on me.”

  Her face drained of color.

  “THE GUN WENT off.” Her finger had been on the trigger, and Lindsey bit her lip at the memory, feeling the sickness return. The recoil of the pistol and the jerk of Victor’s chest had been almost simultaneous. The blood splattered on her, even her face. His body had been half on top of hers, pinning her down. She shuddered.

  Zander clasped her tighter. God, she loved him.

  “I—” She regulated her breathing and found a smidgen of courage when her gaze met Simon’s compassionate eyes.

  “It was an accident,” she whispered, “but…even if it hadn’t been, I think I would have shot him anyway.”

  “Good to know you’re not an idiot,” Zander muttered.

  Her gaze went to him. “What?”

  “He’d have killed you and the boy. What part of that didn’t you understand?”

  “I—yes.” His matter-of-fact statement smoothed the jagged edges of guilt. “I called 9-1-1.”

  “So far, so good. And?”

  “I untied the boy, and we…we kind of had hysterics together. Finally the police came—well, one. He’d been in high school with me. After checking things, Craig believed us. He let me go up to the house because I…needed…to clean up.” Victor’s blood had covered her face, her clothes. She swallowed hard.

  “Easy, babe. I’m here.” Her fingernails were digging into her palms. Zander uncurled her fingers and wrapped them around his.

  “Okay.” She concentrated. “I was cleaning up when I heard the chief of police talking outside the bathroom window. Victor is—was—Chief Parnell’s brother. Travis had been to the shed and seen Victor’s body. He was crazy mad. Wanted to kill me—to cut me up, he said.” She felt the cold slide up her spine. “…cut her so bad that even in hell, Victor will hear her screams. I’ll see how many pieces I can chop off before she dies.”

  “He was talking to Craig?” Simon asked.

  She shook her head. “Another officer. They said Victor’s death was a p-problem. Chief—Travis—is in charge of the smuggling. Victor worked with him.”

  “Oh hell,” came a low comment from Logan. She’d actually forgotten he was there.

  “He told the detective with him to kill Craig and make it look like I did it. They could dump my body in the river and tell people that I’d run.”

  Zander made a noise, a growl deep in his throat, and she stopped. “Go on, babe,” he said.

  “They’d say I killed Victor and later shot Craig, trying to get away. The ranch would be tied up in legal stuff, and they could keep using it.”

  “I stood there.” She’d been numb. “Craig was yelling that the boy had run, and I ran to the front door and screamed for Craig to watch out. I heard the gunshots.” Too late. Too, too late. Grief and guilt churned inside her. “If I’d moved faster. Yelled sooner.”

  “Wouldn’t have mattered, pet,” Simon said gently. “They were his comrades. He’d never have believed you in time.”

  “How’d you escape?” Zander asked. His jaw was tight, his eyes furious. For her.

  He was on her side. The relief drained the strength out of her.

  “Babe?” Zander prompted.

  “I hid.” She managed a weak chuckle. “My grandpa was crazy. Paranoid. During the Cold War stuff, he made a hidden room off the basement to prepare for a nuclear war and Commie invasion. It gets ventilated through an outside pipe, has an old chemical toilet, and was stocked with ancient civil defense cans of drinking water and food. I hid there for a week.”

  “No shit.” Zander cupped her head against his hard chest. “That took balls.”

  “I guess.” She’d bitten her knuckles raw to keep from screaming. Not knowing who was around, she couldn’t afford to make any noise. Day after day. Alone. Sometimes it’d seemed as if the floor was covered with blood. Sometimes she’d wake to see Victor over her or Chief Parnell with a knife. Each night, the walls would move in closer.

  She managed a smile. “If I ever smell another can of canned lunch meat, I’ll puke.”

  Simon shook his head, his expression holding only respect. “How did you decide when to get out?”

  “My sisters came.” The thought of them was like sunshine in the murk. “My car was still at the house. The police said I’d escaped—hitchhiked out or died somewhere on the ranch, but when I didn’t turn up or call, my sisters thought maybe I was hiding.”

  When the door had opened, they’d scared her so bad she’d screamed. And had hysterics. “I told them what had happened and they…they believed me.”

  Simon said, “Anyone who knows you would, Lindsey.”

  Zander kissed the top of her head with a growl of agreement.

  As tears filled her eyes, she blinked furiously. “I knew I’d have to run. And I hoped—I’d told Victor about the hidden safe once, and since he was using the place for illegal stuff, I hoped maybe he’d left something I could use. I found lots of cash in it and a case with flash drives.” She shrugged. “I wasn’t sure what the drives contained. I figured maybe evidence, so I took them.”

  “What was on them?” Simon asked.

  “I couldn’t read them. They’re—”

  “Encrypted,” Zander finished for her. He half smiled at her startled look. “I’ll explain later about my stamp hunt.” He looked at Simon. “She’s been trying to find the password.”

  She nodded. “With the money, I bought a fake ID in San Antonio, bought a second one in Chicago. And another in San Francisco.”

  Silence hung heavy in the room, like a snowfall, muffling all sound.

  Without speaking, Zander untied her wrists, rubbing the dents
out of the reddened skin.

  Simon was frowning. “Why didn’t you go to a different law enforcement agency to tell your story?”

  She blinked, realizing she’d left a part out. “I did. I called the border patrol and talked to an agent—Orrin Ricks. But he worked for—with—the chief. It wasn’t good.” Tears rose again. “I—I don’t want to discuss it.”

  As Lindsey stared at the three men, pressure landed on her chest, a massive boulder of realization. What have I done? By telling them about her crime, she’d made them…whatevers. Accessories. Knowing a murderer and not turning her in was against the law. “God, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “What?” Zander snapped.

  She wrenched around in his arms, taking his face between her hands. “You could be arrested for knowing me, for aiding and abetting a criminal.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You’re worrying about us?”

  “Yes, you dummy. They’ll arrest you.” She fumbled at the ropes still around her ankles, her heart rate increasing. “I’ll just… I can disappear. No one needs to know I told you anything. I bam-bamboozled you and Simon and Logan. You thought I was a nice person.” Her attempt to jump off his lap got her nothing except his grunt of exasperation.

  “Babe, you are a nice person. And I’ll turn your ass red if you try to run away again.”

  Tears rose in her eyes. She grabbed his shirt and shook him. “Don’t you get it? They’ll kill you!” She turned to glare at Simon and Logan. “And you two as well.”

  A deep chuckle came from Logan. “She’s no bigger than a minute and trying to save our asses. I like her, deVries.”

  “Hands off,” Zander said in a half growl. He drew her against his chest, arms over hers, trapping her in his lap. “Sit still, or I’ll tie you up again.”

  A sob caught in her throat. They didn’t understand the danger.

  “Shhh,” Zander said. “We get your worry. Now let us see what we can do about this mess.”

  “You shouldn’t do anything; don’t you understand?”

  “That’s not an option. But—”

  “But,” Simon interrupted, “we won’t take any action without talking it over with you first. And giving you time to run, if that’s what you need.”