by Nora Roberts
caught in the middle of violence and passion that had simmered underground for ten years. If it erupted today, she’d be alone—alone because he’d been a fool. As he rounded the top curve, a man stepped into the path of the car, forcing him to brake. Swearing, Cliff stormed out of the car.
“Mr. Delaney,” Reiker said mildly. “Mrs. Agee.”
“Where’s Maggie?” Cliff demanded, and would’ve moved past him if Reiker hadn’t stopped him with a surprisingly strong grip.
“She’s inside. At the moment, she’s fine. Let’s keep it that way.”
“I’m going up.”
“Not yet.” He gave Cliff a long, steely look before he turned to Joyce. “Your mother’s inside, Mrs. Agee. She’s fine, sleeping. Your husband’s in there, too.”
“Stan.” Joyce looked toward the house, taking an instinctive step forward.
“I’ve been keeping a close eye on things. Your husband told Miss Fitzgerald everything.”
Cliff’s blood iced. “Damn it, why haven’t you gotten her out?”
“We’re going to get her out. We’re going to get them all out. Quietly.”
“How do you know he won’t hurt her?”
“I don’t—if he’s pushed. I want your help, Mrs. Agee. If your husband loves you as much as he says, you’re the key.” He looked toward the house. “He’d have heard the car. Better let him know you’re here.”
Inside the house, Stan had Maggie by the arm, holding her close as he stood at the window. She could feel his muscles jumping, hear his breath whistling. As terror washed over her, she closed her eyes and thought of Cliff. If he’d come back, everything would be all right. If he came back, the nightmare would end.
“Someone’s out there.” Stan jerked his head toward the open window, and his free hand opened and closed on the butt of his gun. “I can’t let you talk to anyone. You have to understand. I can’t risk it.”
“I won’t.” His fingers dug into her arm so that the pain kept her head clear. “Stan, I want to help you. I swear I only want to help. If you hurt me, it’ll never be over.”
“Ten years,” he muttered, straining to see any movement outside. “Ten years and he’s still trying to ruin my life. I can’t let him.”
“Your life will be ruined if you do anything to me.” Be logical, Maggie told herself as waves of panic threatened to overtake her. Be calm. “It wouldn’t be an accident this time, Stan. This time you’d be a murderer. You’d never make Joyce understand.”
His fingers tightened until she had to dig her teeth into her lower lip to keep from crying out. “Joyce stood behind me.”
“She loves you. She believes in you. But if you hurt me, everything would change.”
She felt him tremble. The grip on her arm loosened fractionally. As Maggie watched, Joyce walked up over the rise toward the house. At first, she thought she was hallucinating; then she heard Stan’s breath catch. He saw her, too.
“Stan.” Joyce’s hand moved on her throat, as if she could make her voice stronger. “Stan, please come out.”
“I don’t want you involved in this.” Stan’s fingers were like iron on Maggie’s arm again.
“I am involved. I’ve always been involved. I know everything you did you did for me.”
“Damn it.” He pressed his face against the window glass, pounding one fist steadily against the frame. “He can’t ruin everything we’ve built.”
“No, he can’t.” Joyce came closer to the house, measuring each step. In all the years she’d known her husband, she’d never heard despair in his voice. “Stan, he can’t touch us now. We’re together. We’ll always be together.”
“They’ll take me away from you. The law.” He squeezed his eyes tighter. “I’ve done my best by the law.”
“Everyone knows that. Stan, I’ll be with you. I love you. You’re everything to me, my whole life. Please, please, don’t do anything I’d be ashamed of.”
Maggie felt him tense as he straightened from the window. The muscle was still working in his cheek. There was a line of sweat over his lip he no longer bothered to wipe away. He stared out the window, at Joyce, then over at the gully.
“Ten years,” he whispered. “But it’s still not over.”
His fingers worked sporadically on Maggie’s arm. Numb with fear, she watched as he drew the gun out of its holster. His eyes met hers, cold, clear blue, without expression. Perhaps she would’ve begged for her life, but she knew, as any prey knows, that mercy comes at the hunter’s whim.
His expression never changed as he set the gun down on the sill and released her arm. Maggie felt her blood begin to pump again, fast and hot. “I’m going outside,” Stan said flatly, “to my wife.”
Weak with relief, Maggie sank down on the piano stool. Without even the energy to weep, she buried her face in her hands.
“Oh, Maggie.” Then Cliff’s arms were around her, and she could feel the hard, fast beat of his heart. “That was the longest ten minutes of my life,” he murmured as he began to run wild kisses over her face. “The longest.”
She didn’t want explanations. He was here; that was enough. “I kept telling myself you’d come. It kept me sane.”
“I shouldn’t have left you alone.” He buried his face in her hair and drew in the scent.
She held him tighter. “I told you I could take care of myself.”
He laughed, because she was in his arms and nothing had changed. “Yes, you did. It’s over now.” He framed her face in his hands so that he could study it. Pale, he noticed. The eyes were shadowed but steady. His Maggie was a woman who could take care of herself. “Reiker was outside, long enough to get the drift of what was going on. He’s taking all three of them.”
She thought of Louella’s pale face, Stan’s anguished eyes, Joyce’s trembling voice. “They’ve been punished enough.”
“Maybe.” He ran his hands up her arms, just to assure himself she was whole and safe. “If he’d hurt you—”
“He wouldn’t have.” She shook her head and clung again. “He couldn’t have. I want the pond, Cliff,” she said fiercely. “I want you to put in the pond quickly, and I want to see the willow draping over it.”
“You’ll have it.” He drew her back again. “And me? Will you have me, Maggie?”
She took a deep breath, letting his fingers rest on her face again. Again, she thought. She would try again and see if he understood. “Why should I?”
His brows drew together, but he managed to swallow the oath that came to mind. Instead, he kissed her, hard and long. “Because I love you.”
She let out a trembling breath. She was indeed home. “That was the right answer.”
* * * * *