Every Last Touch

by Christa Wick

  “I booked a hotel for your mom and me,” she told Walker. “She wants to be here when Emerson is released.”

  Hearing the exchange, I waited until I was alone with Walker.

  “Your mom needs you,” I said. “I’m going to find a ride—”

  “No.” He took my face in his hands, the grip unyielding. He shook his head, silently repeating the command. “I’m taking you home.”

  I stared at him, body slightly rocking side to side, my gaze pleading for clarity.

  “Which home?”

  He caressed my cheek. Stepping closer, Walker wrapped his arms around me. Pressing a kiss against my temple, he answered.

  “My house.”

  Breathing in his scent, I buried my face against Walker’s chest and whispered.

  “I’d like that.”

  He held me a few more seconds then had me sit down while he pulled the truck up. He came around to the passenger side and eased me into the cab.

  I leaned back, the perilous day, and half a pain pill, dragging me toward sleep. Fighting to stay awake, I leaned against the center console and rested my palm across Walker’s muscular thigh.

  “You haven’t told me yet,” I said, my voice scratchy.

  “Told you what?”

  I heard the new note of caution in his voice but I was too tired to pull on that particular thread.

  I gave his leg a light squeeze.

  “How you found me.”

  He took his hand from the steering wheel long enough to swipe at his jaw.

  “Well, first we worried that it was a complete stranger abduction—some monster saw a beautiful woman alone and on crutches.”

  “You think I’m beautiful?”

  The question escaped with a low, incredulous laugh. I had cleaned up in the hospital bathroom as best I could. And my clothes were fresh. But my cast was a mess and the hair I had pulled into a bun might as well have rats crawling through it.

  Bringing my hand to his lips, Walker kissed it.

  “Always, Ash.”

  He was being kind. I knew how bad I looked. But I didn’t have the energy or desire to push back.

  “So how’d you decide they were specifically targeting me?”

  “Didn’t,” he answered. “But Madigan argued that the location and timing of the kidnapping was extremely high risk. And there was evidence—inconclusive—that there were two kidnappers, which would be unusual, Madigan said, for a predator abduction. So we worked both possibilities, starting with news alerts.”

  “But you didn’t know the vehicle, no ID of the men, and they made sure no one saw me before they dumped me in that room.”

  “We used the video you took at the museum and the picture from the fake Michael Abbot’s driver’s license.” He exhaled, his hands trembling for a moment against the steering wheel. “We were still getting nowhere until I read through your logbook and saw the conversation you recorded with Frank Messeger’s daughter.”

  Straining to remember the details of that conversation, I finally managed to dredge up a few facts.

  “I didn’t find out anything on that call. She said her father’s dementia had worsened.”

  “Point one,” Walker said. “Frank’s mind is as good as it ever was, and that’s saying a lot. Point two—Frank doesn’t have any kids. He was out of town because he won a two-week, all expenses paid fishing trip up north, exactly the kind of bait he’d jump at. The woman who answered the phone had been his neighbor for a few months and agreed to feed and exercise his dogs while he was gone.”

  “Let me guess, she was the source of his mysterious win.”

  “Her boss was—and she rolled real quick when she found out a federal agent had been kidnapped. But that still wasn’t good enough.”

  I laughed as the painkiller took greater control of my senses. I gave Walker’s leg a little pat.

  “No wonder it took you so long.”

  “No kidding,” he said, missing my joke. “Once we had real names to go with the pictures, we got a call that the big hairy guy had family in the area. Someone else who heard the name saw the fabric you stuck out the window, but they took a couple of hours before deciding to call us.”

  Rage vibrated through his voice at that final revelation.

  “I shoehorned my way into Emerson’s vehicle from the beginning and we were the closest. You know the rest,” he finished.

  “Here,” he said, turning down a private dirt road. “Casa Walker.”

  He parked in front of the house, cautioned me to hang tight, then raced up the porch and opened the door. Returning to the truck, he opened my door.

  “Let me take you up the steps at least.”

  Nodding, I wrapped my arms around his neck and slid forward so he could lift me out of the cab.

  As he walked, I talked.

  “You know, at first I was really afraid once they threw me in that room.”

  He eased me onto the couch and tenderly lifted my leg onto the ottoman. On his knees in front of me, Walker rested his head on my lap. His hand stroked absently at my hip.

  “I was terrified, too.”

  I combed my fingers through his thick hair then traced the edge of his ear and on down to his chin. Forcing him to look up at me, I shook my head.

  “But then I remembered you were out there looking for me, and so were all the people who care about you. I had an army at my back because of you.”

  Crying my own tears, I couldn’t be certain, but I thought I saw a few slide down his strong cheeks.

  “Ash, I’ve already lost two people I love,” he rasped. “I couldn’t take losing another one—especially you.”

  First, I smiled, then my face sobered as his words sank in.

  “Walker Pierce Turk—did you just say you love me?”

  He laughed, the sound broken yet full of infinite promise. “Yeah. I love you, Ash. I thought that was obvious from the early days on.”

  My face contorted, an ugly cry threatening to break free. I shook my head, the gesture freezing Walker in place.

  How could I say it? How could I tell this beautiful, caring man that it wasn’t obvious because I was pretty damn sure I never had anyone love me before. Not just some guy, but my parents. As much as my mother, the city planner, went on about the need for negative population growth, I was pretty sure the pregnancy had been an accident. Raising me had been an act of duty, not love. That early freeze out had colored every relationship since.

  “It’s okay, Ash,” he scratched out. “I’m not asking you to feel the same way, not yet at least.”

  Taking his head in my hands, I leaned forward and kissed Walker hard on the mouth. He surged up onto the couch, careful even with the heat pouring from him to avoid my injured leg.

  He took control of the kiss, tenderly managing my passion, slowly bringing me back down.

  Biting at his lip, he shook his head and smiled.

  “The things I want to do to you,” he sighed. “But not tonight, love. You need sleep more than anything right now.”

  I nodded. As usual, he was right.

  “Will you stay with me, though? In bed beside me…at least for a little while?”

  Walker ghosted one last kiss across my lips.

  “Love, I’m going to be with you forever.”

  27

  Ashley

  Arms wrapped around my head, I stared at the computer. An email from Phil Moske filled the screen. I was on my fifth read, this time amusing myself by counting the many exclamation points.

  Nothing else about the contents was remotely funny.

  “What is so riveting?” Walker asked as he took a seat next to me.

  My chest lifted with a deep breath. Shaking my head, I turned the computer to where he could see the screen.

  “I shouldn’t show you this.”

  He inched closer. “I’ll sign an affidavit saying I was reading over your shoulder.”

  I studied Walker’s face as he read my boss’s words.

  E
x-boss, I amended.

  Moske had emailed to inform me I was being transferred back to California.

  Consider yourself lucky that you’re not being terminated! Your Nancy Drew shenanigans have brought shame to the uniform!

  The tone worsened from there. The more Walker read, the tighter his jaw clenched.

  “He’s sore because you showed him up,” Walker said. “He kept claiming no case, and then you bag a fox farm and a canceled bear hunt, plus a lock on the money laundering operations.”

  “I tripped my way into that.” I scowled at my leg then covered my face. “Like, literally tripped into it.”

  I closed the lid on my laptop and moved it onto the coffee table in Lindy Turk’s great room.

  “You know,” I laughed. “For a while, I thought Moske might have been on the take.”

  “You weren’t the only one. Emerson asked around,” Walker said. “Not saying the man isn’t on the take, but it turns out there was bad blood between him and Deacon. Just you sitting in the old man’s chair was enough to make Moske dislike you.”

  Hands cupping his chin, Walker rubbed both sides of his jaw in a seesaw motion. Before the kidnapping, I had never witnessed the behavior. Since my rescue, I had seen it several times.

  I pulled his hands to me and kissed at the knuckles.

  “Spit it out,” I coaxed. “We obviously have a lot to talk about.”

  He shrugged, his gaze skipping to the other side of the room.

  “So, California?”

  I laced my fingers through his.

  “I could try to fight the transfer, but Moske would still be my boss if I won,” I said. “If I lose, I would be branded within the agency.”

  Thinking it over more thoroughly, I snorted. “Who am I kidding? Either way, if I fight it, I’m branded.”

  “That’s it,” he monotoned. “You’re going?”

  “Or quitting,” I answered.

  Just letting the idea whisper through my head was foreign.

  Pulling away, I grabbed a throw pillow and wrapped my arms around it.

  “My parents never let me quit at anything,” I whispered. “No exaggeration.”

  I buried my face against the pillow, remaining silent until Walker brushed his thumb across the back of my neck in encouragement.

  Looking up, I saw his loving green gaze staring at me expectantly.

  “Eventually, it made me hesitant to try new things,” I confessed. “For eight years, all the way until I left for college, I really, really…I mean really sucked at ballet. But ten-year-old me wanted to try. The second my mom signed me up, I was locked in.”

  Not caring who might come into the room, Walker pulled me onto his lap.

  Three weeks had passed since the kidnapping. I’d been on administrative leave the entire time and couldn’t go back to work until a psychiatrist cleared me after the traumatic event. But it wasn’t all bad news. I stayed in Willow Gap the entire time—the first two nights at Walker’s before returning to the guest room at his mother’s house. And the doctor finally cleared me to be out of the soft cast for a couple of hours each day. I couldn’t be weight-bearing without the soft cast yet, but being able to snuggle with Walker like this was absolute Heaven to me.

  With a heavy sigh, I buried my face against his neck.

  “I don’t see your parents having much of a say anymore,” Walker coaxed. “Mama would bust my butt if she heard me talking like that. Doesn’t make it any less true.”

  I curled my hand around the other side of Walker’s neck, my thumb stroking the underside of his chin.

  “Your mom would understand the situation,” I said after a few quiet minutes.

  “How long before you have to leave?” he asked. “Do you know?”

  I burrowed a little deeper, held him a little tighter.

  “A while still,” I answered as Walker grew restless beneath me.

  I moved to slide off his lap, but he wrapped his arms around me. He kissed the hollow of my throat and then the corner of my mouth.

  “I meant everything I said, Ash,” he rasped. “I love you.”

  I nodded, nose stinging.

  “Are you taking the transfer because you can’t deal with the idea of quitting, or because you love the work more than…”

  He trailed off, but I didn’t need to hear the words to know what he was getting at. Squeezing his chin, I drew his gaze to mine.

  “I like the work. I love you.”

  Releasing my grip on him, I looked around the room. The decor had a certain country elegance with its big space, leather furniture, and wall-to-wall wood. Tastefully scattered around were silver frames holding pictures from each generation of Turks.

  Overshadowing everything with its beauty, a tree of copper leaves grew from the top of the fireplace mantle to just a few feet below the two-story ceiling. Each leaf bore the name of a Turk child or spouse. With three weeks of studying the unusual artwork, I knew that Lindy had made sure the past carried into the future when she named her sons.

  Adler was Lindy’s maiden name. Walker was from his paternal grandmother’s maiden name. The pattern continued with Barrett, Sutton, and Emerson, the names selected taking equal turns among Lindy and Brody’s ancestry, but always drawing from the woman’s maiden name.

  “I love your family, too,” I whispered. My mouth formed a squiggly line suggesting I was seconds away from crying. “Honey Bee is downright addictive…so is Siobhan.”

  “Well,” Walker chuckled. “To be fair, those two are the same mental age.”

  I gave his shoulder a light punch then buried my face against his neck once more.

  “So you won’t move to California,” he told me. “You’ll stay here and marry me.”

  I stopped breathing. I pulled back, my arms and torso shaking. My lips tingled from the lack of oxygen. Feeling the room start to spin, I sucked in a deep breath.

  “Was that a proposal?” I asked.

  His mouth twitched.

  “More like a directive,” he coughed. “You feel up to a short walk? No need to leave the house.”

  Trusting he was working his way around to a clearer answer, I nodded and slid off his lap.

  Taking my hand, Walker led me out of the great room and down the hall that housed both the guest room I had been sleeping in and his childhood bedroom.

  He bypassed my door in favor of his.

  “Sit here,” he said, guiding me over to his bed.

  I complied, my gaze locked on his body as he got down on the floor and rooted under the bed. When his hand reappeared, it was holding a wooden keepsake box.

  “Wasn’t that at your house before?”

  He nodded.

  “Now it’s here because you are.”

  I exhaled, my body starting to shake again. Walker lifted the lid to reveal trays that could be taken out. The top tray held small pieces of military regalia—badges and braids that dated from Vietnam to the Civil War.

  He put it aside. Memories of his younger years populated the second tray. Arrowheads, baseball cards, a ribbon from his first rodeo skills event.

  “Adler was always a better horseman,” he said, stroking a finger along the ribbon. “Frustrating since we were in the same age group most of the time.”

  I gave him a soft nudge with my shoulder when his hand remained motionless over the keepsakes.

  Relenting with a breathless laugh that bounced his chest without making a sound, Walker lifted the tray to reveal the last level of the box. There was only one item. It rested on a square of black velvet and glittered like the night sky.

  Still on his knees, Walker pinched the band of the diamond solitaire and held it toward me.

  “I’m not good at this kind of thing,” he said. “The flowers were hard enough, especially when the woman asked if I wanted a card to go with them.”

  I nodded, tears already streaming down my face.

  “Believe me,” I rasped. “You’re doing it perfectly.”

  A smile stre
tched across my face.

  “Don’t stop,” I urged.

  A bashful grin turned his cheeks pink. His Adam’s apple bobbed a couple of times and then Walker drew a deep breath.

  “Will you marry me, Ash?”

  “Yes! Yes, yes, yes!” I squealed, grabbing Walker by the collar and pulling him close.

  I pressed my lips to his, then ran the tip of my nose down along the curve of his neck, kissing him where I knew his flesh was super sensitive. Groaning, Walker captured my hand and slid the ring on. He kissed my palm, then my wrist. His lips slid to the bend of my elbow, where he took a slow sucking kiss.

  Thighs trembling, I stopped him before we both lost control.

  “There’s a wedding to plan,” I smiled. “But first we have to tell your family.”

  28

  Ashley

  “Always a bridesmaid,” Siobhan joked, sneaking up on me from behind and wrapping her arms around my waist. “You look breathtaking, Ash.”

  “I had a great personal shopper,” I replied, turning to the woman who would officially become my cousin before the day was over. “And you’re not a bridesmaid, you’re the maid of honor.”

  “Bridesmaid, maid of honor, both are code for being a pathetic single female,” Siobhan joked. “Good news is that the tow truck just finished digging Sutton out of the snow bank. He and Lindy will be here in ten.”

  My stomach tied in knots despite the good news, I nodded. “Can’t have a wedding without a best man or mother of the groom.”

  “Aunt Lindy would just make us do it all over again,” Siobhan laughed.

  Siobhan looked around the large conference room within the church that served as the bridal changing area. Sage, in her bridesmaid gown, entertained Leah. The toddler wore a dress in the same cool aqua as the bridesmaids, her amber colored hair in a French braid and a small silver tiara perched on her head.

  Seeing that Siobhan had returned to the room, Leah twirled her way over.

  “Leah Elsa,” she pronounced.

  Siobhan curtsied. “Your Fairy Highness.”

  Delighted that she had received the appropriate amount of respect for royalty, the little girl danced back to her aunt.