Cold Target

by Potter, Patricia;

  She moved her hand, her fingers tracing the crinkles around his eyes, the almost invisible dimple until he smiled.

  “I love you,” she said. “More than I thought it possible to love someone.”

  “I have a lot of baggage,” he said. “My brother should get out of prison next week. He will have to stay with me awhile.”

  “Need a good lawyer to help?”

  “I was depending on that,” he said with the slow rare grin that had always captivated her.

  “What other baggage?”

  “The Beast.”

  “I adore Beast.”

  “He will try to push you out of bed.”

  “I can hold my own.”

  “You can, indeed,” he said.

  “There was something else,” she said.

  “Nothing important. Not now.”

  “What was it?”

  He shrugged. “The differences between us, between our backgrounds.”

  She sat up. “I didn’t know you were a snob.”

  He smiled at that. “I was engaged in college,” he said. “A girl from a very good family. I was a football jock. A hero. Then I injured my knee and was told I couldn’t play football again. She was gone the next day.”

  “Did you love her?”

  “I thought I did. She was everything a poor kid from the slums ever wanted. Beauty. Class.” He played with her hair.

  “Doesn’t sound like much class to me.”

  He shrugged. “I had my shallow moments. But it hurt, and for a long time it was hard to trust again. Then my job got in the way. It’s difficult being a cop’s wife and it’s hell on a marriage.” His gaze never left hers.

  He was asking a question.

  “It’s difficult being anyone’s wife or husband,” she said. “But I never thought love meant asking someone to change what they are. And you, my love, are a cop down to your toes.”

  “Is that a yes?”

  “Was that the question?”

  “I think so.”

  “Once more with feeling,” she said.

  He hesitated. “I just want you to know what you’re getting into. Clint. The job. I can try to get another one.”

  “Yes, I know what I’m getting into. No, you are not to get another job, and no, I am not going to let you go out the door again,” she said. “So yes, I will marry you despite that decidedly unromantic proposal.”

  He grimaced. “I’m not good at romance, either.”

  But he was. He was always there when she needed him. He accepted her without question. He made her smile. He filled what had always been an empty place. He warmed all the cold places.

  He offered all the romance she needed.

  She nibbled at his lips. His mouth claimed hers.

  And then they became very, very romantic.

  “I’m so sorry I had to lie to you.”

  Holly’s gaze met Doug’s.

  She had gone to the hospital with him, checked on Marty who was asleep but doing fine, and waited while he talked to the injured man. He would live, Doug had reported back to her. And he was already talking. He named someone she didn’t know, but now they had a trail to follow.

  Then they had gone to Doug’s home. She’d been there before when he had cooked steaks. His sister and niece lived right across the road.

  Harry was tucked into a second bed in Jenny’s room.

  Doug made her some hot chocolate.

  He brushed a short curl off her forehead. “You had good reason. You must have been terrified.”

  “More than that,” she said.

  “You’ll probably have to go back to New Orleans and make a statement about the night you left. Your statement should be on the record. But not until we know we can protect you. If the DNA proves what Gaynor and Meredith believe, Judge Matthews’s credibility will be destroyed.”

  “I know.” She shuddered. She didn’t want to ever see Randolph again, or her father. The man she’d always thought was her father, but who had never acted as such. Now she understood why.

  “When this is all sorted out, do you want to return to New Orleans?” he asked cautiously.

  “No. This is my home.”

  He touched her face with such gentleness she wanted to cry.

  She lifted her face in invitation.

  He accepted. His lips touched hers with infinite tenderness, like a whisper. He deepened the kiss until she was swirling with the magic of it. His hands massaged the back of her neck, and she was filled with delicious sensations and a warmth that crept into every fiber of her being.

  He released her lips and picked her up, taking her into his bedroom.

  He undressed her, gave her one of his shirts to wear, then guided her down on the bed.

  He took off his shoes. But then he lay next to her. Holding her. Caressing her. Teaching her to trust.

  Teaching her the meaning of love.

  Samuel Matthews heard from the investigator who had sent the two men to Bisbee.

  “One’s dead. The other is talking. I’m getting the hell out of the country while I can. You might do the same.”

  Samuel lowered the phone. He had thought he’d put enough distance between himself and the people he’d paid to take care of problems. He had no doubt now that everything was falling apart.

  DeWitt was looking into the adoption and his father’s will. Holly was alive and the DNA would prove she wasn’t his child. When one thread was broken, the others would unravel quickly enough.

  He blamed Randolph. If his son-in-law hadn’t hired an incompetent to rid himself of Holly, perhaps none of this would have happened. But now it was quite likely Samuel’s role in Cross’s conviction would become known, as well as his connections with dubious campaign funds and the death of Prescott so many years ago.

  He knew one thing. He would not go to prison.

  He went through his desk, shredding some documents and burning them in the fireplace. He did leave two documents that would destroy Randolph Ames.

  He drank some of his expensive brandy, smoked a cigar and looked around at the photos on the walls. Samuel with the president. Samuel with three governors. Samuel with a U.S. Supreme Court justice. The latter had been his goal once. Perhaps he had never stopped hoping.

  He had another glass, went into the bathroom and straightened his tie.

  Then he went downstairs and picked up his keys.

  No note. No obvious suicide. No warning to Randolph.

  He got into his car and backed out.

  He knew just the place to run his car off the road.

  A tragic accident.

  It would be a grand funeral.

  Gage and Meredith heard the news when they landed in New Orleans. There was no reason now to fly to Birmingham. Holly was found and was being protected. Dom had decided to stay in Bisbee for a few more days. He wanted to get to know his daughter and grandson.

  The television from a bar boomed out the news: Supreme Court Judge Samuel Matthews Dead In Accident.

  They exchanged glances, then Gage took out his cell phone and dialed DeWitt. He should have done so last night, but they both had been exhausted.

  “Sanders,” he said. “What have you heard?”

  He listened for a moment, then asked, “Could it have been a suicide?”

  Gage nodded as DeWitt obviously asked a question. “Yeah, we found out a lot. We found Matthews’s daughter. Two men had been sent to kill her. One’s dead. The other was wounded. He’s talking.” Another pause. Then, “Can you wait before printing anything? I don’t want Randolph to get away as well. Okay. Will you pick us up at Meredith’s office? She has to retrieve something there.”

  He listened for a moment, then grinned. “Yeah, bring Beast.”

  He folded the phone shut.

  “Let’s get a taxi and go by your office to get the envelope your father left you. DeWitt will meet us in the parking lot. He’s chomping at the bit.”

  An hour later, DeWitt was waiting for them in the parking
lot of her building. Beast was taking up the whole backseat.

  “I’ll get in the front,” Meredith said as the dog made moaning sounds at seeing them. She watched the dog slobber all over Gage as he tried to squeeze inside. Then she took a look inside the envelope and stiffened.

  The date was the same as her father’s death.

  She quickly ran through the three-page document. It was a confession as well as a letter. She read it silently, feeling the guilt within the letter. Her father had been devoured alive by it.

  She silently handed it to Gage and ignored DeWitt’s quizzical looks. He would have to read it for himself.

  They arrived at Gage’s house and went inside. He made coffee while DeWitt read the letter. Her father had meant for it to be read. That much was obvious.

  “My God,” DeWitt said, and put it down on the table.

  It was all there. Matthews’s desperation for a child when he was sterile, Marguerite’s parents desperate to hide a pregnancy that her father thought might destroy his career. To keep the secret they had to destroy a young man—not only destroy him but to do it in such a way that Marguerite would never speak to or of him again.

  There was so much more. Young Prescott was a gambler. He’d been paid to frame Dom, then got greedy and tried to blackmail both families. Charles Rawson had been an ambitious young man in the law firm ruled by Marguerite’s father. Charles had lusted after Marguerite and was seen as a perfect match for her. He’d sold his soul to make that happen and had helped frame Dom, then murder Prescott.

  The final wound was the deepest. Marguerite had been forced into the marriage. If she didn’t do what was asked, Dom would never leave prison alive. His life for hers. Rawson had always loved her, always wanted her, and she hated him for what he had done. She agreed to a marriage without love. She wouldn’t sleep with him.

  Until he raped her. Meredith was the result.

  He never touched her afterward. They both had punished each other until the last day of their lives.

  Gage reached over and touched her. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “I know now,” she said. “It’s always better to know.”

  But a tear dropped on a page.

  “They gave me you,” he said. “And I am grateful to them for that.”

  She smiled through the tears.

  And then they prepared a case to bring Randolph Ames to justice.

  Together. Just as she knew they would always be together.

  BISBEE

  SIX MONTHS LATER

  “It’s over, darling,” Doug said after getting off the telephone. “They found him guilty.”

  Holly looked outside at Harry playing with Caesar in Doug’s yard. She had been staying with him since arriving back from New Orleans. They had left New Orleans immediately after she was released from testifying. She hadn’t wanted Harry there when the verdict came in.

  And she’d wanted to go home. Doug was her home.

  She’d testified for one long day. Randolph’s attorney had tried to destroy her. She had known that going in, but she had withstood the barrage. And was stronger for it.

  Randolph had refused to grant her a divorce but Meredith was working on it.

  As for Meredith … they had become very good friends in the past six months. The DNA had confirmed that they were sisters, and Meredith had directed half her mother’s trust fund to her. It was a considerable amount.

  Holly hadn’t wanted to take it. She was finally convinced to do so only after being told it was her mother’s dying wish. But she planned to give much of it to charity—a large chunk to Dom’s shelter and another for a shelter in Bisbee. The rest would go for Harry’s education.

  She relaxed against Doug, wondering how life could have gone from so bad to so good within a year. Harry was five now. He’d had nightmares for a while after the incident at the cabin but they had faded.

  Doug took her hand and led her outside to watch the sun set.

  They sat on a porch step. Then Doug unexpectedly dropped to his knees and she looked at him in surprise.

  He fumbled in his pocket, then took out a box and gave it to her.

  Hands shaking, she opened it and looked at the ring. It was a sapphire. A blue that matched her eyes.

  “Will you marry me?” he asked. “I didn’t want to ask until this was over, but, well, dammit, I can’t wait any longer.”

  Her heart ached with love for him. “The divorce—”

  “Meredith said she can expedite it. She and Gage are getting married in June. Would you … I mean, every woman wants her own wedding, I suppose, but I thought … maybe you two, ah …”

  He was babbling. Doug never babbled.

  He knew how happy she was at finding Meredith, at having a sister. He was asking her if she wanted the moon as well as the sun.

  “Yes,” she said simply.

  He kissed her for a very long moment, then they looked up at the sunset, hands entwined.

  “It’s so beautiful here,” Holly said.

  “It pales in comparison to you. When I first saw you—”

  “In my glasses and brown hair?”

  “I thought you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.”

  “I was plain.”

  “You’ve always had a glow about you.”

  Her fingers tightened around his. “It’s our glow,” she said.

  And she knew it would be there forever.

  epilogue

  BISBEE

  The double wedding took place in Bisbee, in the church that Doug and now Holly attended.

  There had been an easy agreement in the location.

  Holly had only bad memories of New Orleans, and Doug had friends throughout Cochise County.

  Neither Meredith nor Gage cared where they married. They just wanted it done.

  But the four of them did want to do it together. Hatred and destruction had brought them together. Now love bound them together—a new family forged by respect and trust and caring. They wanted to celebrate that together.

  And Meredith and Gage had become enthralled by the funky town with a big heart, though not enough to move there. Gage liked being a cop in a big city. He liked the action. He liked the energy. Meredith wanted to continue her work in domestic abuse.

  Their jobs remained in New Orleans but they were fast considering Bisbee their second home.

  Half the town seemed to be at the wedding. The four had debated over which bride should come first, then decided Meredith as the younger would.

  Both men stood at the altar with their best men. Clint stood next to Gage. Harry, bursting with pride, was a pint-size best man for Doug.

  Jenny led the procession as flower girl, and Marty was Holly’s maid of honor.

  Gage watched as Meredith walked down the aisle, followed by Sarah, her one attendant.

  She hadn’t wanted white. She hadn’t wanted a veil.

  She was beautiful. She always had been to him, but never so much as at this moment. Her eyes were luminous. A sky blue princess-style dress floated around her body as she walked toward him.

  He couldn’t bear to think how close he had come to losing her.

  When she reached him, her hand folded into his, and she turned to watch her sister, who started down the aisle on Dom’s arm.

  Holly was struck-blind gorgeous. Gage watched with amusement as the groom next to him blinked several times. Gage had come to like Holly very much, particularly her wonder at everything and her total lack of awareness of her own beauty.

  Yet it had always been the prickly attorney who made his heart race and his blood turn warm. Warm, hell. Hot. Steaming.

  His hand tightened around hers and they exchanged secret smiles. As always, they seemed to know what the other was thinking.

  He’d moved into her house, renting his own to Clint. The rent was darn little in the beginning, but now Clint had stayed in his job in computer troubleshooting for six months, had even been promoted already, and spent his spare time at Dom
’s shelter, helping kids.

  He was going to make it.

  The minister spoke the words. Gage knew them. He had been to weddings. But the words had never really meant anything to him.

  Now they did.

  “In sickness and in health …

  “For richer or poorer …

  “’Til death do you part.”

  And then came the best part. “You may kiss the bride.”

  His. She was now his. And he was hers. That was the best part. They were friends, lovers, partners.

  His lips took hers possessively. For a long moment. Maybe two.

  A few twitters came from the congregation.

  He glanced at the couple next to them. They had not quite finished their kiss.

  Well, he had always been competitive.

  He returned to the kiss, still wondering how this miracle had occurred, how one person could be so supremely happy and content. It had all started with violence and deception followed by more of the same. He knew there would be future obstacles. There always were. But for the first time in his life, he believed in happy endings.

  The twitters became louder and he reluctantly drew away, just as Doug did. They glanced at each other and grinned. Doug lifted Harry up in his arms, and Jenny and Marty hugged Holly, then Meredith.

  It was done.

  There was a celebration waiting. A huge one.

  A celebration of love and life and family.

  He offered his hand to Meredith.

  An ending. A beginning.

  He was ready.

  About the Author

  Patricia Potter is a USA Today–bestselling author of more than fifty romantic novels. A seven-time RITA Award finalist and three-time Maggie Award winner, she was named Storyteller of the Year by Romantic Times and received the magazine’s Career Achievement Award for Western Romance. Potter is a past board member and president of Romance Writers of America. Prior to becoming a fiction author, she was a reporter for the Atlanta Journal and the president of a public relations firm in Atlanta. She lives in Memphis, Tennessee.

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