He sank down on her couch, sinking back into the comforting softness and releasing another cloud of her scent into the air around him. He was tired. And afraid he’d never see her again. He hadn’t wanted to feel this way about a woman ever again. Ironic to find himself back, almost to square one, just a few hours after he thought he’d achieved freaking closure.
Damn ironic.
TWELVE
Bryn leaned back with a sigh, holding Dewey off with one hand. With much kissing and some embarrassing giggling, they’d managed to make their way to his apartment. Each kiss was deeper and more mind spinning than the last. As fun as it was to be necking with someone on a couch, they had some air to clear before it went any further. “Sit over there. I can’t think when you’re this close.”
His lazy, satisfied smile took her breath away, and undermined her resolve to get back to work. If he’d pressed the issue…but he didn’t. He also didn’t move across the room. Instead, he drew in his body until the width of one couch cushion separated them. He ran both hands through his hair, adding to the disarray her hands had done, and took a deep breath. She trembled when she saw him shudder, feeling powerful and humble at the same time.
She’d given up wondering how it happened. How someone had managed to steer a heart-whole course through thirty-three years only to fall, with a thump, in love. It had happened, so now she dealt with it. Her life had changed. She didn’t know what she was going to do about Phagan. It was Dewey in front of her. Phagan was, and probably always would be, virtual. He was something she’d have to think about, but not now when her lips were still swollen and tingly from kissing Dewey. To avoid the issue she went to make coffee, asking over her shoulder, “So what was the big mystery with Luke?”
Dewey seemed to gather himself in a bit again. His smile was as wide and as sexy, but he also seemed to have retreated just a bit. It seemed the elephant—his legal status—was back in the room with them. Would they be tripping over it forever?
“He asked me to meet him at the bus station today,” he said.
“Bus station?” Bryn paused in her preparations. “Something happen to his truck?”
“Got snowed in the mountains. He skied out.” Dewey paused, then added as if it were an afterthought, “Had a damsel in distress in tow.”
“Really?” Bryn added the grounds to the machine. “Well, his mom has been wanting him to meet a nice girl. Was she…nice?”
“I guess. Sure was a looker.”
That got her attention. He grinned and the elephant shrunk a little for a moment.
Her grin felt rueful. “Really. And in distress. Sounds…irresistible.”
“And hard to keep track of. I lost her in Wal-Mart. I’m hoping you can protect me from Luke.”
Bryn propped her elbows on the counter and stared at him. “She gave you the slip?”
“Yeah. I saw some burly types after them. A couple of them followed him into the men’s room. Saw a couple more get on the bus and search it.”
Bryn straightened with a frown. “Luke okay?”
“Yeah, other than being pissed at me. He got called into work on some murder or other.”
Bryn could guess which murder. She needed to talk to him about the various nuances she’d turned up. In the morning. She poured them both a cup and sat back down beside Dewey.
“So why did you want to talk to me about Phagan?” She didn’t look at him. The elephant was back and sitting between them. She took a sip out of her cup and then set it down. She didn’t want it. She wanted Dewey.
“Forest for the Trees wants a face-to-face meet.”
She looked at him then.
“This is it. Your line into Green. If you can get me disconnected from this.” He held his foot out, the one with the electronic bracelet.
A stab of fear followed a surge of elation. Dewey wanted to walk into the fire of undercover and take both her guys with him. If something happened, she’d lose them both. She took a deep breath.
“I can get you disconnected. When?”
“Let’s find out.” He crossed to his computer and logged on. She watched him type, then hit return to send the email on its way. “Guy’s good,” he said. “I’ve tried to track him every way I know how. No go.”
“And what about him? Has he been able to track you?”
Dewey looked hurt, except for the expression in his wicked eyes. “Miss Bailey! How can you even ask?”
“Sorry,” Bryn said, smiling, but feeling the muscles around her heart tighten. “So.”
His eyes turned tender. “This is the only way.”
“I know,” she said.
Almost as if Forest for the Trees had been waiting for him, he got his answer. Bryn looked at him.
“Tomorrow. He wants a number he can call me. Will tell me when and where then.”
“Don’t give him your cell phone. He could check it out. Do you—”
“Have a clean number? Well, yeah.”
She waited until he’d sent his response with the clean cell phone number and logged off. When he turned to face her, there was no sign of amusement or triumph in his face. “I wish—”
“What do you wish, my darling Miss Bailey?” He came and sat down beside her, taking her back in his arms.
She sagged against him, her head against his heart, which was beating slow and steady. Persistently—like his courtship.
“I wish—” she almost couldn’t say it. It was the ultimate admission of weakness. And what if this wasn’t a courtship, but an affair? She’d just assumed, because she thought the whole premarital sex issue nuts that he would, too. What did she really know about him or what he believed? He’d been living out there on the fringes of the law abiding world. He and Phoebe—well, she’d always wondered how close they’d been. Phoebe had said once that Phagan had loved her sister, Kerry Anne. It was her death that had brought them together, had launched their pact to avenge her death.
She wasn’t jealous of Kerry Anne. How could she resent a dead girl? First love was first love. Even she had one. Sweet, unrequited, tucked away in the moth balls of the past. Phoebe, on the other hand, was very much alive and in the present.
“Were you and…Phoebe ever…” She couldn’t even say it out loud, couldn’t look at him as she asked.
Dewey cupped her chin, turned her face to his. “No. Never.” He sighed, his gaze turning distant. “When we met, we were both…snarling balls of grief. I did love her sister, as much as I could love someone then.”
She smiled. “I know. What was she like?”
Dewey sighed again. “Broken. Inside and out.” His grin was crooked and absent of joy. “I would have married her. I thought I could fix her. Instead…”
“It wasn’t your fault she died. You were just a kid.”
“Yeah.” He didn’t sound like he believed her. “She’s part of who I am. She always will be. I’ve made my peace with it. And it brought me to you. We might never have met if I hadn’t met her and got the notion I could fix what was wrong with her world.”
His look was rueful, resigned, and a little sad. It made her love him more, want him more. She covered his hands with hers and looked at him. “Then she’s part of us. And always will be.”
If there would be an always?
His mouth widened into a grateful, faintly awed smile. “You’re so beautiful, so…everything. I can’t believe we’re here. We’re now. I—”
He stopped.
“What?” she didn’t know whether to be puzzled or afraid.
“I don’t want it to end. I want—it all.” He changed the position of their hands. Now he held her, with hands and his anxious, eager gaze.
“All?” She knew what her “all” would be, but his?
He hesitated, like a diver at the edge of the board who now realizes how deep the water is and isn’t sure he can jump.
“All.” He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, then opened them again and leapt. “Marriage. White picket fence. Kids. Mortgage. Lawn to
mow. All. With you.”
Relief took all the stiffening from her body. She sagged into his arms.
“Oh, Dewey, so do I.” She snuggled against his chest, listening to the pounding of his heart and reveling in feeling like the “little woman.” His hand found her chin and tipped it up, so his mouth could find her mouth. Her mouth was very happy with this arrangement, as was the rest of her. When they stopped for air, she murmured, “I wish we could get married before you have to go.”
“Well,” Dewey turned her chin up again, the mischief back in his eyes, “we could. I’ve been carrying this around for the past month. And there’s one of those mail order preachers next door…”
“You were so sure?” Bryn felt her hackles rise, even as a thrill coursed through her.
“Never,” Dewey said, with a tender smile, “but as Phoebe is always pointing out, all God’s children need a goal.”
Hackles subsiding, Bryn took the paper he held out and looked at it. It was a marriage license. With his and her details already filled in.
“Is it—”
“Legal? Of course it is, darling. There are some things in this life you don’t counterfeit. Ever.”
“How did you know?”
He shook his head. “I never knew. Ever. I just lived in…hope.”
Warmth swept through her, sweeping away her doubts and her fears. Hope was all any of them had. Or it’s opposite—fear. She wasn’t going to live in fear anymore. Bryn pulled away from him.
“Well, don’t just sit there. Go get him. I have to be to work at eight a.m. That doesn’t give us a whole lot of time to conclude our…business.”
Dewey’s smile took her breath away. “Yes, ma’am.”
* * * *
Amelia woke lying on the floor of Hilly’s and Tweek’s apartment. She remembered Hilly handing her the big, comfy pillow, but not the quilt that now covered her. An arm trailed off the edge of the sofa a few inches from Amelia’s nose. Tweek’s arm, judging by the tattoo circling the wrist and the exotic perfume, faint but enduring.
Amelia looked around and found Hilly hanging off three sides of an overstuffed chair. The smell of pizza still lingered in the air and a pile of crumpled tissues testified to their satisfaction with the movie.
Pizza, Amelia decided, was a perfect food. Right up there with chocolate. It hadn’t stopped her missing Luke, but it did fill the hollow spots in her stomach. If she couldn’t be with Luke, this was sure as heck the next best thing. She didn’t remember Tweeks and Hilly, but in a weird way, she did. Or maybe it was the feeling of companionship that her brain was reluctantly releasing? It was the first sense of the familiar she’d had since she woke up in Luke’s cabin, and she welcomed it.
She hadn’t talked much, since she didn’t know what to say or not, but they hadn’t seemed to notice. Was this how it usually was? She’d wanted to ask them about herself, but Luke’s caution held her back. They felt okay to her, but what did she really know about anything or anyone right now?
With a sigh at the world and its fears intruding into the moment, she tossed the blanket back and got up. Neither Hilly nor Tweeks moved. If they did have sinister intentions, they were disguising them very well behind snuffling baby snores.
Amelia smiled. They were probably around the same age, but she felt years older than them as she tucked the blankets around them both before letting herself out of the apartment. The clock showed the time as brutally early, but she couldn’t get back to sleep. Her heart was pumping with fear and anticipation at what she would find at Merryweather. It could be everything. It could be nothing. And she wasn’t sure what she wanted it to be.
She took another shower and dressed in warm, comfortable clothes. Her heartbeat was slow and heavy as she stowed the driver’s license, some cash and the bus pass in her coat pocket.
Odd that the license hadn’t been with her, but she didn’t seem to have a car, so maybe that explained it. Maybe she just used it for ID. But hadn’t there been a car key on the set of keys Luke kept? At the thought her head began to ache again, as if to punish her for trying to sort it all out. Her brain just didn’t seem to want her to remember, which meant that part of her didn’t want to remember.
Her last act, before pulling on a warm hat, was to take the top sheet of the Merryweather note pad and tuck in her pocket, too. Then she let herself out of the apartment, locking it behind her and keeping the key as she headed down the hall. She’d sort of been hoping that Luke would show up. In the living room, she had the odd feeling she could smell Luke, but it had to be wishful sniffing. She’d tried to listen for any sounds of him arriving last night, but hadn’t heard any movement in the hall before she fell asleep.
She didn’t know what to make of it. He’d had to work, but all night seemed a bit excessive. Maybe he was annoyed with her for giving Dewey the slip. She couldn’t blame him for that, though she’d sort of hoped he would understand her need to find out for herself. She’d decided not to rely on him. He had other priorities. And he’d said he took things seriously. He’d probably needed to pull back a little, in case she got too serious. That’s all. He’d protected her. Done what was needed and now he had his own life. And his work, if that beep was what Dewey had thought it was.
She’d eat some breakfast to ease the hollow feeling in her middle, then see if she could figure out the buses. She’d noticed a McDonald’s on the next corner as they were driving in. And, not being a man, she wouldn’t hesitate to ask directions.
* * * *
Luke decided to make another run by Amelia’s apartment before meeting Mann, but he had to stop by his mom’s first. She’d made that quite clear last night. He entered cautiously. As the oldest, the “experimental son” Debra Kirby liked to call him, his relationship with his mom was complicated. Unlike his brothers, he never seemed to know when his mom was fake mad or real mad.
He was just finishing up at the academy when his dad died and he found himself thrust into the role of man of the house. More than his brothers, he knew how hard dad’s death had hit their mom. He’d stood outside her room some nights, listening to the harsh sound of her sobs. He’d noticed the shadows under her eyes, despite the determined smile she had for her boys. Sometimes her eyes would meet Luke’s across the room and pain would flare, stark and raw.
He knew why. He and Matt were the image of their dad. He’d sometimes wondered how he’d felt if Rosemary had left a miniature of herself behind to haunt him. And his dad had left two of them. But back then, Matt had still been in development. Not like him. The day before his dad died, Luke had stood back to back with him and his Mom had declared them equal in height and shoulder breadth. If his life were a Greek myth, that would be why his father died. The defeat of the old in the face of the young. For a long time he thought he was to blame.
Eventually he realized it wasn’t so. A perp on a high had killed him. Acceptance of it took a long time. He’d tried hard not to be his dad, while still trying to fill his shoes. His Mom had needed him to be the support, to be there for her and his brothers.
It was Rosemary who helped him sort it all out. She would look at him, one brow arched as if to ask, “What are you doing?” and pretense dropped away. She’d ask him about his dad and in talking about him, understanding had emerged. He’d forgiven his mom for feeling pain when she looked at him, but a part of him still braced for that first look when he came into a room where she was.
This morning, his mom looked relieved. Her arms wrapped around him. She had to stand on her toes to do it, though she was a tall woman and thin, like Jake. Luke kissed her on both sides of her narrow, clever face and ruffled the hair he’d watched turn gray all those years ago. She looked happier these days. The shadows of the past almost erased. She was dating their dad’s best friend. He wasn’t thrilled about it. None of them were, but they all agreed she had more than the right. And in light of his recent feelings about Amelia—on the anniversary of his wife’s death, no less—he understood a little better about
how things happen.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, taking his face in her hands. Her look, as always, pierced his surface shields and started digging around his insides.
“Got a case dumped on me last night,” he said, still hoping to bluff.
“The one on the news? The scientist?” Luke nodded. “Okay, now tell me what’s really wrong.”
“What makes you think—”
“Don’t even start. You have the same look in your eyes Jake had a year ago—you’ve met someone. And it’s not going well.” She stepped back, her hands on her hips, daring him to say she was wrong.
Even if she was wrong, which she wasn’t, it was a violation of the mom/son relationship to say your mom was wrong. It was like stepping on the flag or dissing baseball.
He hunched his shoulders and shuffled his feet.
“What’s her name?”
He had to look at her then, his mouth twitching into a sheepish grin.
“You don’t know? What is with you and Jake?”
He rubbed his hair. “It’s…complicated.”
“Love always is.” She studied him so long, he shifted from one foot to the other.
“What?”
“I’d like to meet her.”
Now he looked down at his feet. Managed to not shuffle them.
“I can’t believe it. You’ve lost her?” He nodded. “Well. Déjà vu yet again.” Her foot tapped for a minute, then she said, “Do you have time to eat before you find her?”
Her confidence was absolute, the love in her eyes without condition. Relief washed over him in waves. He nodded.
“Pancakes?”
“Only time for some toast and coffee.” She didn’t move, her gaze still locked on his. “What?” he asked again.
The Lonesome Lawmen Trilogy Page 76