Cavanaugh In Plain Sight (Cavanaugh Justice Book 42)

by Marie Ferrarella

  The house felt somehow lonelier than she’d thought it would as she unlocked the front door. Morgan’s footsteps echoed her own as he walked in with her. In her heart, she couldn’t help thinking that this might very well be for the last time. After all, the case was over and he had accomplished what he had set out to do. He’d caught the person who had been trying to kill her—with her inadvertent help of course, she thought with a sad smile.

  Krys was trying to find the right way to word what was on her mind when Morgan’s voice broke into her unformed thoughts. “Just what the hell were you thinking?”

  She stared at him, completely thrown by his question coming out of left field the way it was. “Excuse me?”

  “When you threw yourself at that woman, just what were you thinking?” he demanded. He had relived the whole thing again on the way home and it brought a chill to his heart. “I had the drop on her.”

  “What I was thinking was that if I didn’t push her weapon up, out of the way, that crazy witch was going to kill you.”

  “With you throwing yourself at her like that, she was more likely to shoot you than me—right in that beautiful face of yours,” he emphasized. “What the hell were you thinking?” he repeated. “And where did you learn to move like that?” he asked, referring to some of the self-defense movements she had executed.

  “The kind of solo work I do makes self-defense a vital part of my survival,” she said matter-of-factly. “And all I could think of was that she was going to shoot you—and I couldn’t let that happen.” Even as she relived the event, her heart was in her throat all over again. “If you died saving me, I couldn’t live with myself.”

  “Instead, you were willing to die to save me,” he pointed out. Did she really think that was a better solution?

  “You were willing to do that, too,” Krys insisted angrily, her eyes blazing.

  Morgan blew out a breath. “I guess this is what they call a stalemate.”

  “I guess so.” She paused, pressing her lips together. She could tell by his body language that he was just about to walk out. She had to say something to stop him. “You know, you don’t have to leave tonight,” she said, despite the fact she had promised herself on the ride home that she wasn’t going to say anything to him on the subject.

  But she just couldn’t bear the idea of seeing Morgan walk out the door.

  When he raised one eyebrow, she started talking fast. “I mean, it is late and all and we’ve both had a really draining day. You could always clear out your things tomorrow.”

  Morgan examined the words she had just used. Was she really saying what it sounded like she was saying? He just didn’t know.

  “Then you want me to go?” he questioned.

  “I didn’t say that,” she answered defensively and much too quickly to her own ear. Krys cleared her throat, doing her best to sound calmer. “I mean I just thought you’d want to, what with the case finally being over and all.”

  His eyes never left hers. “I didn’t say that.”

  So much had happened today, her head was throbbing as her disjointed thoughts became even more jumbled. She knew what she wanted—she wanted him to stay, but she wasn’t about to sound as if she was begging. He had to be the one to make the all-important decision and make it clear that he wanted it to be this way.

  She let out a breath, struggling not to allow it to sound shaky. “What are you saying?” she asked.

  He didn’t want to be taking anything for granted. “That I don’t want to be underfoot.”

  She stared at him. He had to be kidding, right? “What made you think that I thought you were underfoot?” she asked him, confused.

  “Well, for one thing, you are fiercely and incredibly independent,” he pointed out. “I practically had to sit on you to get you to accept any sort of protection—and,” he went on to remind her, “when you thought you’d lose out on what you were sure was going to be an exclusive story, you deliberately disregarded every shred of common sense, eluded everyone who was determined to protect you and bolted. And then—”

  “I was wrong,” she told him.

  Morgan came to a skidding halt midsentence. He stared at her, dumbfounded. He hadn’t expected this from her. “What did you say?”

  “I was wrong,” Krys repeated, sounding repentant. “I’m sorry.”

  “Do you have any idea what I went through when I realized you were missing? Do you know the kind of awful thoughts that went through my head, torturing me?” he demanded.

  She hadn’t even stopped to think of what he might have gone through. Now that she did, she felt guilty. “I shouldn’t have done that to you.”

  “No,” he agreed with passion, “you definitely shouldn’t have.”

  “How can I make it up to you?” she asked him, looking, in his opinion, extremely contrite as well as sincere.

  Was he being a total fool, taken in by the look on her face? But when he thought of the way he’d felt, afraid that she was in trouble, none of the rest of it mattered. He didn’t want to win this argument, because it wasn’t about winning. It was about having her. Loving her.

  All he wanted was her.

  And all it had taken was a crazy woman to bring that home to him.

  “Well,” he said slowly, “if you’re serious abut making it up to me...”

  “I am,” she answered with enthusiasm.

  “Then I can think of several ways you could do that,” he said, the makings of a wicked smile on his face.

  The smile that slipped over her lips was the first smile he had seen on her since they had had breakfast this morning. Looking back, it felt like that had been a hundred years ago.

  “Does one of those ‘ways’ involve you staying the night?” she asked him.

  He pretended to consider her question. “It might involve staying even longer than that,” he told her, then asked, “How would you feel about that?”

  Maybe it was the lighting, but he could have sworn it looked as if her eyes were shining.

  “Guess,” she breathed.

  “I might need a hint to do that,” he told her, keeping a straight face.

  “All right,” she agreed gamely, suddenly feeling that everything was going to work out just as she had hoped. “One hint coming up,” she declared, wrapping her arms around his neck as she stood up on her toes and brought her mouth up to his.

  She sank into the kiss, feeling herself quickly catching on fire. Krys put her entire soul into it, kissing him for all she was worth.

  And then she drew her head back. “Well?” she asked, waiting for his reaction.

  “Sorry,” he told her after a prolonged minute, “I’m afraid that I’m going to need more of a hint than that.”

  Krys’s smile filtered into her eyes. “You do drive a hard bargain.”

  “Giving up?” he asked innocently.

  “Oh no, not by a long shot,” she promised. “Brace yourself, Cavanaugh. The hinting has just begun—” she promised “—if you’re up to it.”

  “Oh, I’m up to it all right,” he assured her. “I’ve been waiting to be ‘up to it’ for what feels like my entire life.”

  “Well, then, I’m happy to tell you that your wish has just come true,” she informed Morgan with a delighted laugh.

  “You talk too much, Kowalski,” he told her, tightening his arms around her as he drew her even closer to him.

  Krys raised her chin, her invitation very clear. “Then why don’t you go ahead and make me stop?” she challenged him.

  “Gladly,” he said, his mouth covering hers.

  And then there was no more talking after that for a very long, long time.

  Epilogue

  “You know, I don’t remember the last time I ever saw Krys looking this happy,” Nik confided to her husband as the church where they had gotten married six months ago
was now filling up with family and friends, gathering there to witness yet another Cavanaugh wedding take place.

  “And I didn’t realize that when you told me you had an identical twin, she was this identical.” Finn laughed, shaking his head. “Looking at the two of you is like really seeing double.”

  “Well, when we stand next to each other, I’m an inch taller,” Nik reminded him.

  “That really doesn’t help if you’re standing in different parts of the room,” Finn pointed out.

  Nik grinned. “All you need to remember is that Krys is the one in the wedding dress, marrying your cousin,” she said. “And you’re married to me.”

  Finn laughed. “Like I could forget the greatest thing that ever happened to me.”

  Andrew’s wife, Rose, came out from the rear of the church. Seeing Nik, she hurried over to the younger woman, her light gray dress rustling as she moved.

  “Your sister’s looking for you, Nikki,” she said. “The ceremony’s about to begin, so I’d move fast if I were you.”

  Nik nodded, knowing how important it was to Krys to have her there for this. She had really missed her twin at her own wedding, but she knew that it couldn’t have been helped. She had always known that Krys was nothing if not loyal to a fault.

  “On my way,” Nik told Rose, hurrying to get to the vestibule before Krys began to think that she had been abandoned.

  “I’m here, Krys,” she announced, making her way into the tiny room. Seeing her twin, Nik nodded in approval. “That’s a nice look on you.”

  Krys glanced down at the form-fitting full-length gown. “It’s the wedding dress. It would make anyone look good.”

  “The dress is really very pretty,” Nik agreed. “But I was referring to the smile on your face. It makes you look radiant.”

  Krys laughed with pleasure. “That is all Morgan’s doing. Oh Nik, I’ve never been so happy,” she said with enthusiasm.

  “I can tell,” Nik said. And then she cocked her head, listening. “I think that’s our cue, Krys. Time to get this show on the road.” She paused just for a moment to give her sister a heartfelt big hug. “Prepare to be even happier,” she predicted.

  “I’m not sure I can do that without exploding,” Krys confessed.

  Nik winked at her. “Try.”

  Clutching her flowers in her hand and trying to calm down the wild, fluttering butterflies in her stomach, Krys left the shelter of the vestibule.

  Preceded by her five bridesmaids, all either Morgan’s sisters or cousins except for Nik, her matron of honor, she focused on making her way down the aisle and to the altar. She really hoped she could do it without tripping on the edge of her satin-and-lace bridal gown.

  Krys stopped thinking about tripping the moment she saw Morgan standing next to his best man, waiting for her at the altar.

  “I was afraid you got wind of another story you just had to pursue,” Morgan whispered to her when she reached him.

  Krys shook her head. “This is the story I’ve been waiting to pursue my whole life,” she told him. “There was no way in the world I was going to wind up missing it.”

  “I’m really glad to hear that you feel that way,” he said, smiling at her. “Because I do too.”

  And then, as they turned together in unison to take their vows and pledge their undying, everlasting love to one another, Krys felt that, after all this time, she had finally managed to come home.

  * * *

  Don’t forget previous titles in the

  Cavanaugh Justice series:

  Cavanaugh Stakeout

  Cavanaugh’s Missing Person

  Cavanaugh Cowboy

  Cavanaugh’s Secret Delivery

  Cavanaugh Vanguard

  Cavanaugh Encounter

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  Chapter 1

  The rain had cleared out overnight, leaving the April morning damp and cool. Water dripped off trees and trickled through the stable downspouts. Birds chirped and sunlight painted the horizon a stunning orange and pink. Skylar Chelsey’s cowgirl boots crunched over the soggy gravel lane that led to the stable and other outbuildings.

  Skylar opened the double door and found Shawn Bellarmine, her deputy ranch manager, talking with one of the grooms. Marko Darcey had just finished saddling Sir Bogie, her roan gelding. Her father had hired Shawn before Skylar had taken over the overall management of the ranch. He was experienced and reliable, but hadn’t been happy when he’d essentially been demoted when Skylar took over.

  “I’ll get to the other horses now that I’m finished here,” Marko said.

  Shawn saw Skylar and stopped whatever he was about to say to the groom.

  Had he tried to get Marko to drop what he was doing to obey him?

  “Good morning,” she said to both of them.

  Marko smiled with genuine respect and Shawn just mumbled, “Mornin’.”

  “Thank you,” she said to the groom, taking Bogie’s reins. Then she turned to Shawn. “Is everything all right?”

  “Just fine, ma’am.”

  The groom went to a nearby stall and got busy feeding the animals.

  “I’m going to check the cattle in the south pasture and then ride the fence.” She climbed onto the roan.

  “I’ve got an errand to run and then I’ll be back. You hear from your brother?” Shawn asked.

  He rarely engaged in conversation with her, so, halting Bogie, she turned to look back at him. “No. Should I have?”

  “Ran into him last night at your parents’. He looked worn and well into a few glasses of spirits. I asked the housekeeper if he was all right and she said his wife kicked him out of the house—she heard him talking to your father. Apparently, Ambrosia wants everything and then some. She’s going to clean him out.” Shawn emitted a single laugh, clearly enjoying the news.

  Skylar’s brother deserved what he got, after marrying a woman like Ambrosia. Everyone other than Corbin had seen that she’d only been interested in his money.

  “Corbin was surprised?” she asked.

  “I’d say he was more upset than surprised. He must have loved her.”

  “Thought he loved her,” Skylar corrected, not feeling very sorry for Corbin. It was high time he wised up when it came to women and started choosing much more carefully. She’d talk to him later. Maybe. Corbin liked to turn those kinds of topics back around onto her, pointing out her failures when it came to men. He never admitted that she’d learned from her mistakes and he had yet to. She’d had some doozies, though. She could never recognize men who wanted her for her money and nothing more until she had invested too much of her heart, for one.

  She guided Bogie out of the stable and rode toward the pasture. It was just a little bit out of the way to the River Rock Ranch—also known as the “Triple R”—property perimeter.

  She loved these rides; the early Texas morning, the quiet, other than the happily chirping birds, the sight of livestock beginning their day, and bonding with Bogie. He was an intelligent horse that, she swore, understood everything she said. He definitely knew her moods and sometimes took advantage of that, like when she was tired. He’d bolt into a run if he felt the urge. When she was feeling low, he always comforted her by nudging her with his soft, velvety nose and nickering gently. His golden-brown eyes were windows into a mighty soul.

  Skylar thought about h
er brother’s forthcoming divorce. Skylar took the position that rushing into a union wasn’t smart. Corbin argued that being with someone was better than being without. Skylar didn’t mind being alone.

  After seeing the cattle were fine, she headed for the river that ran through the Chelsey property and meandered into the adjacent land. About twenty minutes later, she reached it. Her neighbors, Weston and Charlotte McKann, ran a horse boarding and training operation on the adjacent ranch, and they pretty much kept to themselves. The only times Skylar had spoken with Wes had been over fence issues and roaming livestock.

  Movement ahead attracted her attention. She saw a person working in a group of trees just on the other side of the fence. It appeared to be a man. He was a fair distance away, but Skylar could tell he was digging. Something lying on the ground beside him—an elongated black plastic bag or tarp rolled up, with something inside—made her pull Bogie to a stop. The man saw her and stopped shoveling.

  Skylar felt a prickle of foreboding on her neck. She couldn’t explain the cause of the sensation. She had no way of knowing what he was doing, or why he was digging in such an odd location—far from any buildings or people.

  Was that Wes? He wore a cowboy hat and seemed about the right height and build, but she couldn’t be sure. She nudged Bogie forward. As soon as she did, the man dropped his shovel and walked toward a gray car. Reaching inside, he came out with a pistol.

  Alarmed, Skylar wheeled Bogie and then kicked him into a full run. Bogie charged in the direction of the River Rock stable.

  “Hea! Hea!” she shouted. Bogie extended his stride farther. Skylar heard the gun go off and waited in pure terror for a bullet to rip through her. Nothing. Bogie was blowing hard and Skylar could feel his muscles strain at their limits as though he sensed the danger.

  As they neared the trees that lined the river, the man fired at her again. This time Skylar saw the bullet strike the ground beside Bogie’s hooves. The gelding whinnied in fear and surged even faster.