"Yeah," Cooper agreed.
"Snacks in the kitchen," Reva said, and the boys ran in that direction.
"Do they ever just walk?" Dean asked. The boys skipped, ran and jumped everywhere, or so it seemed.
"No." Reva started to follow the boys, but stopped before she got very far. She turned to face him and leaned her back against the wall, more relaxed than she should be, given the situation. "I'd like to ask you something. I've never been able to talk to anyone about this, because … no one knows. No one but you. I love Cooper, and I have tried so hard to be a good mother to him, to raise him right and make sure he has everything he needs."
"You're doing a good job."
"Good enough?" she whispered. "Cooper is Eddie's child. Eddie's blood." She shivered visibly. "He even looks like Eddie, more every day. What if…" She couldn't finish the question.
Dean moved toward her, but not so close that he'd be tempted to touch her. "Cooper is not going to grow up to be like his father."
"How can I be sure?"
"He's your child, too, Reva." Dean knew Eddie Pinchon's background inside out. Pinchon hadn't had a stable life, not from the age of four when his father had died. His mother's remarriage a year later had placed her child in the hands of a stepfather who'd abused him as a child and then introduced him into the family drug business at the age of twelve. Eddie had been made bad; he wasn't born that way.
"Cooper is a great kid, and he's going to stay that way because he has you to watch out for him. To love him and show him what's right and what's not. Kids don't come with a guarantee, but Cooper has a better chance than most at having a good life. Thanks to you, Reva."
"Are you saying that just to make me feel better?" she asked.
"No. No more lies. Not even little ones."
She shook her head. "A little late for that promise, isn't it?"
"Is it?"
He moved closer. "And you don't have to do it alone. There are decent men out there, Reva. Men who won't lie to you." He wanted to be the one to make her life complete, but he'd ruined that chance. "Cooper needs a father, you need a husband. You need … more kids, Saturday-night dances, romantic evenings, a man to love you…"
"I can't—"
"The right man won't care about your past or Cooper's father or anything else."
"And where am I supposed to find a man like that?"
Here. The word stuck in his throat. I'm right here.
The front door opened suddenly, and Dean turned as a man wearing a baseball cap stepped inside and slammed the door shut. As the man lifted his head, Reva grabbed Dean's shirt and took a sharp breath.
"Hey, baby," Eddie Pinchon said with a widening smile. "Miss me?"
* * *
She'd thought seeing Eddie again would send her into a panic, but it didn't. A heavy dread settled in her stomach, though, as Eddie looked past Dean to direct his cold gaze at her.
He took off his cap and tossed it aside, revealing very short fair hair. In the past he'd worn it longer, but she supposed this was a prison haircut. The mustache and goatee were new, and he'd lost weight. But he was still Eddie.
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
"You know what I'm here for." His bright smile faded. "Took me a while to figure out where it was, but since no one else has it, I figure it must be here somewhere."
It. Never my money or the cash. Eddie was being careful, since Dean stood between them.
Eddie turned his attention to Dean. "Who are you?"
"He's the handyman," Reva answered quickly.
"Handyman." Eddie's smile came back. "Just how handy are you?"
Dean took a single step forward. Eddie's hand slipped behind his back. Of course he had a gun on him. Reva's heart started to pound.
"Why don't you get out of here, handyman," Eddie said. "The lady and I have something important to discuss."
Dean took another step toward Eddie. "I don't think so." She saw the bulge at his spine, where his own weapon was not so well hidden beneath his T-shirt.
Eddie's gun snapped up and around, and so did Dean's. They moved so fast, so surely, Reva didn't see anything but a blur. And then they were standing in her foyer, aiming their guns at each other. Eyes on the weapons, Reva felt her mouth go dry, and a roar filled her ears.
"Reva," Dean said calmly, "you still have a few employees in the kitchen. Why don't you tell them to go home? Send them out the kitchen door. We don't want anyone getting hurt here, and the fewer people who know about this, the better."
"You're awfully bossy for a handyman," Eddie observed as Reva took a step back. "And much too comfortable with that pistol."
Dean waited until she was at the end of the hallway before he called, "Reva, you go out with them."
"You'd better not!" Eddie shouted. "If you're not back here in two minutes, I'm going to shoot your little friend."
Reva ran to the kitchen. The women and the two boys had surely heard raised voices, but they would not have heard the words. The kitchen was too far away from the foyer, thank goodness. They were not concerned until Reva burst into the kitchen, out of breath and on the verge of panic.
"We have a little bit of a problem out front," she said urgently. "I need you all to leave. Now."
"Mom," Cooper began, "what's—"
"Just go with Tewanda and I'll come get you later."
"But why?"
She didn't have time to argue. Eddie had said two minutes. Two minutes, and then he'd start firing. Dean had a weapon, too, but what if Eddie fired, anyway?
"Go."
Reva left the kitchen at a run as the women and children made their way to safety. If she lost it, she wouldn't do Dean any good at all. She might even get them both killed. Calm. She needed calm. How was she supposed to manage that?
Dean had been right. It wasn't the gun that was evil, it was Eddie's hands. In Dean's hands, no weapon would ever be used in the way Eddie's had been. He would never threaten an innocent person; he would never use that weapon to torture anyone, good or bad.
She found Dean and Eddie as she had left them, in a heart-wrenching standoff.
"I told you to go," Dean said when he heard her footsteps.
"Maybe she doesn't want me to shoot you, handyman," Eddie said as he circled to the side.
Reva looked at Eddie's gun. Her heart took an unpleasant leap, but she didn't panic. The roaring in her ears had stopped, and she knew she could hold back a scream.
But she was afraid. That gun was aimed at Dean, and Eddie would pull the trigger if it would get him what he wanted.
"You won't shoot me," Dean said.
Eddie laughed. "What makes you so special?"
"I'm the only one who knows where your money is."
* * *
Chapter 18
« ^ »
He couldn't afford to take his eyes off Pinchon, not even to glance to the side to see how Reva was holding up. She stood a few feet away and a few feet back, in a position much too vulnerable. "Go on," Dean said. "Get out of here."
"He'll shoot you!" she argued as she inched forward.
"Not if he wants his money, he won't."
"What did you do?" she asked.
Dean tried to move to the side to place himself between Reva and Pinchon, but she continued to move forward as if she intended to stand before Eddie herself, as if she intended to face him down once and for all.
"I hid the bag," he said. "No one else knows where it is but me, which pretty much puts me in the driver's seat."
Eddie didn't look happy. "You're lying. She knows where it is." He nodded his head at Reva.
"No, she doesn't. I moved it a couple of days ago." The bag of money was no longer in Reva's cottage, but hidden on the third floor of the Fister house in one of the rooms he and Alan had never used.
Eddie's nostrils flared. He had no choice but to accept what Dean told him as fact. "It better all be there. I swear, Reva, if you spent my money on this raggedy old place…"
; "I didn't spend a dime," Reva said.
Eddie believed her—Dean could tell by the relief that washed over his face. He actually smiled. "That's my girl. You always were pretty smart. Why don't you drop this stiff and come with me?"
She shook her head. "No."
"You can bring the kid if you want."
Reva took a step that brought her closer to Dean—and closer to Eddie. "Wh-what kid?"
She was the worst liar Dean had ever known.
"Remember old Levy?" Eddie said as if they were haying a friendly discussion about old times. "I ran into him last week, while I was out and about looking for my money. He told me he saw you working in a restaurant in Raleigh a while back, and somebody told him you'd had a baby. He couldn't remember exactly when it was—you know how old Levy is—but he said it had been a few years. The kid is mine, right?"
Reva opened her mouth to answer, but Dean beat her to the punch. "No, the kid is not yours. He's mine." The words sounded true enough. They even felt true, gut deep. In a matter of weeks, Cooper had become more Dean's child than he would ever be Eddie's, in spite of any biological connection.
"You didn't waste any time, did you?" Eddie asked, cold eyes on Reva's face.
"It's not like you were around," Dean said.
Eddie glared at Dean for a moment, then he shrugged. "Doesn't matter. Come on, Reva. You can bring the kid, anyway. The cops are looking for me. Traveling as a family man would make a nice disguise."
"She's not going anywhere with you," Dean said. "Reva, you head across the street." Using the front door would take her right past Eddie. She didn't want that and neither did he. "Go through the kitchen."
"I'm not leaving you here with him." Reva insisted. "Give him the money and let him go."
"Yeah, handyman. Give me the money." Eddie, who couldn't afford to kill Dean at the moment, repositioned his gun so it was aimed at Reva. His eyes remained on Dean. "Why does a handyman carry a Colt .38, anyway?" His eyes flickered down to the gun, then back up again. "Government model. You're no handyman, are you."
"What difference does it make?"
Eddie shrugged. "As long as I get my money, none."
Dean knew he couldn't allow Eddie to leave town, money or no money. But he needed Reva out of the way before gunshots were fired. He had a feeling that before this was all over, gunshots would definitely be fired.
"We don't go anywhere until you aim that weapon away from Reva, got it?"
Eddie shook his head. "No more games. I'm damn tired of you talking to me like you have a right to tell me what to do. You want to know who's boss? I'm gonna show you. I can shoot Reva in a lot of places before I kill her. A kneecap, an elbow, maybe a foot or a hand. She doesn't like pain. She never did." He grinned and his finger began to squeeze. "You don't think I'm serious, do you?"
Dean knew Eddie was perfectly serious in his threat. Just before Eddie pulled the trigger, Dean threw himself to the side, knocking Reva down and out of the way. Eddie fired when Dean was in midair, and the bullet grazed Dean's arm. He felt the sting as he fired back, taking quick aim and pulling the trigger while shielding Reva's body with his own.
His aim was better than Eddie's. The bullet hit Eddie in the chest, dead center, and the felon dropped to the floor.
Moving quickly, Dean rolled toward Eddie and knocked the man's weapon out of his hand. Dean didn't want that gun coming back up on him. It was the stuff nightmares were made of. As soon as the gun was well away from Pinchon, Dean checked for a pulse. There wasn't one.
On the floor beneath the window, Reva sat with her head forward, hair falling over her face, her hands in fists against the floor. She was right where she'd landed when he'd pushed her out of the way of Eddie's bullet. As he watched, she lifted her head and brushed her hair back with both hands.
"You're hurt," she whispered.
Dean glanced at the scratch on his arm. "Not really. We need to call…"
Reva crawled forward, tears in her eyes. She reached him and kept on crawling until she was in his lap. For a moment she sat there, her face against his neck and each breath deep and ragged. Finally she lifted his torn shirt-sleeve and studied the wound. Blood ran down his arm, seeping, not flowing. As gunshot wounds went, it wasn't too bad.
But it was ugly.
"I thought you were going to die," she whispered. "For just a split second, I thought you were dead. Everything stopped, and all I could think about was what I hadn't said and done. That split second lasted forever."
"I'm fine. How are you?" With easy fingers, he turned her face toward his and studied her eyes. She was scared, yes, but not frantic.
"It's over," he said.
She nodded, and then she laid her head on his shoulder. He held her there, wondering what it was she wished she'd said, what she wished she'd done.
"Looks like I missed all the excitement," Sheriff Andrews said as he entered the room by way of the hallway.
"Tewanda?" Dean asked, not at all surprised to see the sheriff.
"Yeah, she called me. I was damn near to Cross City." Reva lifted her head and looked at the sheriff, but she didn't move from Dean's lap. "Cooper?"
"He's fine," Andrews answered. "I told Tewanda to stay away from the restaurant and keep the kids well clear, and she said she would." He glanced down at Eddie and scowled. "I guess I have to get this garbage on ice and keep it cold for you federal boys."
"I'd appreciate it," Dean said.
"You look like you could use a doctor," Andrews added without emotion.
Dean shook his head. "I can handle it."
"No," Reva said, her voice stronger than it had been a moment ago. "You need a doctor to look at that." She glanced up at the sheriff. "He says it's nothing, but I don't think it's nothing. A bullet did that. Make him have a doctor look at it. Order him to go to the hospital. This is your jurisdiction, right? You can force him to go to the hospital in Cross City if you want to. He can't just put a bandage on it and take an aspirin. He needs medical attention!"
Dean took Reva's chin in his hand and made her look at him. He even managed a smile. "Now I know where Cooper gets his conversational skills."
"I only ramble when I'm nervous." She blushed. "Very nervous."
"How about I have Doc Fredericks stop by and take a look at your arm," Andrews suggested. "That should keep everyone happy. Everyone but me, that is. I see a full night of paperwork ahead of me, and I imagine by midnight Somerset will be crawling with feds." He glared down at Dean. "I don't suppose you could have just wounded the man."
"He was going to shoot Reva," Dean said simply.
"In that case you were perfectly justified."
Reva placed her hands on Dean's face and looked him in the eye. So far she hadn't so much as glanced at Eddie. Just as well. A dead body wasn't a pretty sight. She leaned in slowly and gave him a quick kiss. "You're right," she whispered. "You'll never be a handyman."
* * *
Doc Fredericks, who had officially retired years ago but still managed to keep up a respectable business in Somerset, had cleaned and bandaged Dean's wound and sent him to bed. Dean had tried to refuse the doctor's orders, but since he was exhausted from several nights of little sleep and had, after all, been shot, he finally agreed.
The county crime lab had arrived quickly, taken their photographs and removed Eddie's body. A cleaning service Ben had recommended was currently cleaning the foyer of the restaurant. Come tomorrow, customers would be served as always, and they would never know what had happened there.
Reva knocked softly on the door to the upstairs parlor of Evelyn Fister's house. When she got no answer, she balanced the tray she carried on one palm and opened the unlocked door. The door to the bedroom off the parlor stood open and she saw Dean's form on the bed. He'd removed his shirt, but still wore his jeans. His jeans and a white bandage on his right upper arm. He looked as if he'd just plopped down onto the bed and fallen asleep.
She walked quietly to the doorway. He was long, hard and stron
g, and she'd been so afraid for him. More afraid than she thought possible. While she watched, Dean opened his eyes.
"What's in the bowl?" he asked.
"Chicken soup." She walked into the room and placed the tray on his bedside table. "I also have sugar cookies from Miss Evelyn—the new recipe—an herbal tea Miss Frances swears will cure anything, Miss Edna's famous lemon pie and a book." She lifted a slim, hardbound book—Elton the Elephant Makes a New Friend. "Cooper heard that you weren't feeling well and thought you might like something to read."
Dean flashed her a half smile and started to sit up.
"Don't," Reva said sharply. "You need to rest. I just had to make sure you were okay and had something to eat and … basically, I just had to see for myself that you hadn't bled to death up here all alone."
"I'm fine," he said, his face and his voice much more solemn than they'd been a moment ago. "How are you?"
"I'm not the one who got shot."
"That's not what I'm talking about."
Reva sat on the side of the bed. She shouldn't be here. She should be furious with Dean for everything he'd done. So why did she want nothing more than to lie down and bury her face in Dean's chest?
"I'm good," she said softly.
As if he'd just remembered that his gun was sitting on the table on the opposite side of the bed, Dean reached out suddenly to lay his hand on the weapon. "Sorry. I'll put it in a drawer."
Reva placed her hand on his chest, and he stopped moving. "That's not necessary."
Hand on the gun, he turned his head to look at her. "Are you sure?"
Reva nodded, and Dean pulled his hand back. The gun remained on the table, a cold thing, a piece of machinery. And as long as Dean was close, the presence of the weapon didn't make her tremble.
"I guess others are coming," she said. "Other U.S. marshals."
Dean nodded. "Alan will be here in a few hours, and he won't come alone."
She didn't ask about what would happen to the money. Having it out of her house was like having a physical burden lifted from her shoulders. She'd never wanted Eddie's money; she'd just carried it with her from place to place like a millstone she didn't know how to dispose of. Dean would take care of it. She had a feeling he lived a lot of his life that way, taking care of other people's problems.
ON DEAN'S WATCH Page 19