And he hadn’t rejected her. He hadn’t judged her for never leaving her birthplace, for settling for the quiet ticking-over of a small-town practice, or for articulating her ambition for something bigger.
He didn’t care whether she spent her career treating high school athletics injuries or digging shrapnel out of shoulders on the other side of the world. He just wanted her to be happy—and in that instant she understood that without him at her side, she never would be.
She glanced at the clock on her phone as she shoved her feet back into her high heels and grabbed her purse. The sentencing hearing was due to start in five minutes. Even if she broke every speed limit in town, she wouldn’t get there in time.
But she had to try. She couldn’t let him lock himself away. She had to save him.
Laurel was oblivious to the voices still squawking on the conference call as she slammed out of her office, completely focused on the most critical rescue mission of her life.
Grady was calm as he sat on the hard wooden chair, waiting for the judge’s arrival. Blake shifted anxiously at his side, but Grady ignored him. They’d already discussed the attorney’s objection to his plan.
“I keep people out of jail, not help them go in,” he’d insisted again that morning. “If jail time is what you want, you need to ask the judge for it yourself. Helping you take someone else’s charge is bad enough—I won’t be responsible for an innocent man serving a jail sentence he doesn’t deserve.”
And that’s where they disagreed irreconcilably. Grady may not have shot the gun, but after more than a decade of military service and multiple tours of duty, he was far from innocent. His hair could grow, his wound could be concealed, but he’d never be able to wash the blood from his hands.
If he hadn’t been in uniform when he did the things he’d done, he would’ve gotten life imprisonment a long time ago. Thirteen years rampaging across foreign soil, destroying property and taking lives, and what did it get him? A shoebox full of medals and a couple thousand dollars in combat bonuses. He’d been a fool to think he could simply walk away from his past, that there was no price to pay. Now he knew that his soul was lost in shadow, and the one hope he’d had of dragging it back into the light was probably on a plane to a disaster zone at this very moment, ready and eager to serve those not yet beyond salvation. Whatever sentence this judge handed down would barely make a dent in his vast moral debt.
The bailiff announced the judge’s arrival, and as he rose to his feet alongside everyone else in the room, Grady felt serene detachment, like watching a replay of a sports match when he already knew who won. Army life was so often lived moment to moment, bullet to bullet, that there was something soothing about the inevitability of his fate beyond this courtroom. He planned to report to the jail straight after the hearing, and he’d already given Chance the keys for his truck and his house.
He was here in the gallery, in uniform. Ethan too. At first Grady was concerned when he spotted the captain, worried that Ethan would try to interfere. But when their gazes met and he saw the dull, helpless gleam of defeat in his former commanding officer’s eyes, he knew he could count on Ethan to let this play out the way it was supposed to.
He resumed his seat and half listened to the judge’s opening recap of the technicalities of the case, each second that ticked past bringing him more at peace with his decision. This was the right choice. He had no regrets.
Almost no regrets.
Memories of Laurel reared up in his mind with such visceral intensity they were practically three-dimensional. The firm press of her fingers in the exam room, the bright energy in her eyes as she turned to him in the jail lobby, the insistent rhythm of her feet when she chased him down that manicured cul-de-sac—no matter what had happened between them, even now he wished she’d kept on chasing him, refusing to let him go.
For a man who weaved around emotional commitments like they were landmines, this ache for Laurel was as jarring as it was unwavering. There’d been plenty of other women over the years, down-home country girls with eager smiles and generous hearts, who knew exactly where they came from and where they were going, who worked hard and loved harder, who were obvious building blocks in the foundation of a solid, happy future. But he never could stay with a single one of them. As soon as they started to look at him with soft eyes and yearning expressions, he got jumpy and restless and started looking for the door—which more often than not was slammed shut behind him.
Having spent years discarding one perfectly eligible woman after another, it figured he’d fall for the one who was completely out of his league, who’d convinced herself she had to leave the town he wanted to call home, who was strong and beautiful and completely unforgettable.
He sighed inwardly as the judge neared the end of her summary of the presentencing report. Maybe Laurel’s brief appearance in his life was all part of his karmic punishment. Maybe he was repaying all the hurt he’d visited on women, from his foster mothers to his one-night stands. Maybe there was some grand lesson to be learned—although he had no idea what it could be.
Well, he’d have plenty of time in jail to think it over.
“With no prior criminal history and a sterling record of military service, the probation officer recommends a suspended sentence and a year’s probation, with a fine of two thousand and five hundred dollars,” the judge concluded. “Does the prosecution have anything to add?”
“Nothing, Your Honor.” The harried-looking prosecutor spoke so quickly he barely got all the way to his feet before thudding back into his chair.
Blake turned to him expectantly—it would be his turn to speak in a second. Grady’s stomach tightened. All that time spent waiting for this day to arrive, then waiting for the trial to start, and now it was nearly over. His moment had come. He was about to check out of this short-lived, catastrophic attempt at civilian life.
“If the defense has nothing further, then—”
“My client wishes to address the court, Your Honor,” Blake interjected. Grady rose unsteadily to his feet as the judge fixed him with her impassive gaze.
He cleared his throat, feeling like the many sets of eyes fixed on his back were drilling holes in his lungs and all the air was leaking out. He fisted his trembling hands, inhaling tightly as he prepared to deliver his carefully practiced statement. He would apologize for his irresponsible and endangering actions, he would thank the judge for her time and he would ask to please receive a prison term instead of a fine.
Go on, say it. It’s like pulling the trigger. Don’t think, just act.
The judge arched an impatient brow. The prosecutor shot him a confused frown. Blake shifted his weight. Grady swallowed hard, then opened his mouth to speak.
The slam of the door at the back of the room cracked through the silent gallery like a gunshot, and Grady joined in the collective glance toward the sound. Except when the rest of the heads turned indifferently toward the front, his gaze remained fixed on the newcomer, bewildered disbelief and surging optimism fighting for supremacy among his jumbled thoughts.
Laurel. She’d come for him. She wouldn’t let him disappear.
Her hair was disheveled, her cheeks were flushed, and as their eyes locked across the courtroom, she gave one urgent, pleading shake of her head.
“Mr. Reid?” The judge’s efficient tone jerked his attention forward. “You wish to make a statement?”
His ears rang and his heart raced as the earth beneath his feet seemed to tilt and roll. Did this mean she wanted to be with him? Or was she just trying to keep him out of jail? Would they end up rehashing that conversation by the side of the road, leaving him with a huge fine and a broken heart? Or was this when everything changed, the moment he turned away from his ugly past to embrace the love of a good woman and all the potential it promised?
Either way, his future was at stake. Would he go to sleep that night on a hard prison mattress, free from debt, his soul lightened by the penance of a twelve-month countdown to a fr
esh start? Would he pace the creaking floorboards of his falling-down farmhouse, wondering how he’d pay back the loan and why in hell he’d let Laurel’s pretty face get in the way of his decision at the last minute?
Or would she be at his side, her supple body tucked into the crook of his arm, dozing against his chest as he stared up at the ceiling, grinning his happiness into the quiet dark?
The judge exhaled her impatience. He looked at her squarely. Time to choose.
“Yes, ma’am, there’s something I want to say.”
Chapter Twelve
Laurel paced the sidewalk at the bottom of the courthouse steps, oblivious to the sun baking her bare shoulders, the roar of cars passing on the street and the dark glare of the young woman who had to push her stroller onto the grass to edge around her frantic back-and-forth motion. An asteroid could’ve dented the pavement in front of her and she would’ve barely noticed, she was so consumed with the events of the past twenty minutes and their implications for the rest of her life.
She’d performed emergency surgeries that were less nerve-wracking than those twenty seconds standing weak-kneed at the back of the courtroom, waiting for Grady to speak. As his deep, gravelly drawl finally broke the silence, she sank into a seat, numb and heavy with the weight of his words. When the hearing ended, she was so lost among her whirring, cacophonous thoughts that it wasn’t until Ethan and Chance passed down the aisle that she found the wherewithal to rise and shuffle out behind them.
Yet as soon as she pushed through the heavy doors into the bright early-summer sun, her energy recharged like a battery. Restlessness flowed through her limbs until she couldn’t keep still, her mind churning as she paced. Where did she go from here? What would happen now? She was getting sick of reformulating her life plan every five seconds—was it too much to ask for fate to give her a hint, to obviously push her in the right direction for once?
As if on cue, the double doors swung open and Grady emerged at the top of the steps, squinting in the glare—and she knew what to do with absolute certainty.
Without a second’s hesitation she tore up the stone steps and flung herself into his arms, so grateful when they unquestioningly closed around her that she didn’t spare even half a thought for her brother’s approving nod, Ethan’s quiet smile or Chance’s ear-to-ear grin. She pressed her cheek against his chest, giving over to the engulfing rush of the warmth and scent and hard feel of him beneath her hands. He was here, he was safe, and her heart tripped and fell and leaped back up again at the sure knowledge that he wasn’t going anywhere.
After several long, blissful seconds in Grady’s embrace, she sensed his three companions dispersing to give them some privacy, and she pulled back to look up at the one man she knew could make her happier than she’d dared to imagine.
“Thank you,” she whispered in a voice suddenly thick with emotion. “Thank you for changing your mind.”
He lifted a shoulder. “I guess the appearance of a hot blonde in the back of the courtroom reminded me how much I’d be missing out on.” He lowered his gaze, and when he raised it to meet hers again, his smile was still playful, but his eyes were cautious and newly guarded. “Does showing up today mean you’ve changed your mind too?”
“It means I’ve put a lot of thought into what you said, into what I thought I knew about myself and into what I want from the future.”
“And?”
“And you were right. I was afraid to admit to myself that I love this stupid little town and the deep-rooted life I live here.”
“What about the medical-aid missions?”
“I’d still like to do humanitarian work, but only for a month or two at a time, for now. I appreciate that there’s nothing wrong with being tied to a solid home base.”
He nodded, the tense line of his jaw betraying his calm expression. “Anything else?”
“Yeah.” She slid her hands up his arms to his shoulders. “I realized I’m crazy in love with you.”
Every last trace of lightheartedness vanished from Grady’s face as he tightened his grip on her waist. “Don’t say that unless you’re absolutely sure. I’m going to be in over my head trying to pay off this fine. That old farmhouse isn’t going to look much better anytime soon, and starting up a cattle operation is on long-term hold. I’ll have to find a new job or take on a second one, and now that I’ve got a criminal record it’s—”
She shushed him with a finger to his lips. “I couldn’t care less about the price of your house, how you make your living or the zeros in your bank balance. I love you. Nothing else matters.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
“And if you decide to take an overseas assignment?” he pressed. “What happens then?”
“I come home to you. I always will.”
He studied her for a full minute, his pleading gaze giving her a glimpse of the little boy who’d been left on too many strangers’ doorsteps, and of the man who retreated into the danger of combat rather than face the potential heartbreak of failed relationships and wrecked commitments.
Then his eyes softened, his mouth lifted and she saw straight through to a heart so gentle, so good, and so cautiously hopeful that her own stalled in response.
“Damn, Laurel. I love you so much it scares me.”
“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” she soothed. “You’re right where you belong.”
She let her eyes fall shut as he clutched her to his chest, listening to the heartbeat that was as strong and steady as the life she knew lay ahead of them.
And so am I.
About the Author
Rebecca Crowley inherited her love of romance from her mom, who taught her to at least partially judge a book by the steaminess of its cover. She writes contemporary romance and romantic suspense with smart heroines and swoon-worthy heroes, and never tires of the happily ever after. Having pulled up her Kansas roots to live in New York City and London, Rebecca now lives in Johannesburg, South Africa.
Find her on the Web atwww.rebeccacrowley.net or on Twitter at @rachelmaybe.
Look for these titles by Rebecca Crowley
Now Available:
Elite Operators
Secure Target
Coming Soon:
The Homefront Trilogy
Alive Day
She’s just an ordinary small-town girl…until a killer makes her his next target.
Secure Target
© 2014 Rebecca Crowley
Elite Operators, Book 1
South African hostage rescue operative Bronnik Mason has been chasing a serial killer around the globe for over a year. Four women have already died, and he’s sworn there won’t be a fifth. Even if, this time, he has to offer up more than a few pints of his own blood.
But when it comes to safeguarding the killer’s next target, Bronnik realizes this case could put his professional boundaries to the test.
Having grown up in the shadow of two delinquent brothers, dental receptionist Lacey Cross is impeccably well-behaved, dutiful, hard working—and bored. Until Bronnik storms into the office to sweep her into protective custody. Suddenly, her nondescript life just got a lot more interesting.
Racing against a blizzard, dodging uncannily accurate bullets, Bronnik finds his concentration getting blown all to hell. Before he realizes Lacey’s slipped under his skin, she becomes more than just a body he’s sworn to protect. She is the woman he will risk his own life to save—whether she likes it or not.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Secure Target:
For eleven o’clock on a snowy Wednesday morning, the mall was more crowded than she expected. She wondered if her fellow shoppers were taking care of all of the errands they’d skipped during the bad weather yesterday, or if it only took an afternoon cooped up indoors to make people seek out any excuse to leave the house.
She tried to imagine a different reality, one in which their cover story was true, that she really had fallen in love with a tall, sexy blond, an
d that he was so enamored of her that he was willing to fly thousands of miles to visit her in her no-frills, typically Midwestern hometown. He’d surprise her with a proposal on his last night in town, and the tearful parting at the airport would be redeemed by a hasty but sincere courthouse marriage a few months later. They’d move into a bigger house, he’d get a construction job while he waited for a place in the police academy, and before long they’d be hanging a “Baby’s First Christmas” ornament on a light-strewn tree.
As they passed store after store of affordable, practical and decidedly unglamorous offerings, Lacey almost laughed out loud at the image of this lethally skilled man with his exotic accent weaving his way through the crowd pushing a stroller, or comparing the prices of garden hoses while she picked out a new microwave.
The man was a trained killing machine. She’d seen it herself. It would take a special woman to tame him, and she very much doubted that a dental receptionist from Kansas could do the job.
Even with that in mind, his hand hung by her side, and she had to fight a strong, strange instinct to take it, as though they really were a couple, and as though this really was her life.
If she hadn’t been daydreaming, it might have occurred to her that they probably shouldn’t walk past the cell phone kiosk where she knew an ex-high school classmate worked. Then again, as she saw Tilly’s eyes light up with nosy curiosity from a few paces away, she wondered if on some subconscious level she hadn’t led them there on purpose.
“Lacey!” Tilly shrieked, as though she was unbelievably delighted they’d run into each other. “How have you been?”
“I’m fine,” Lacey replied politely. Tilly had a brother the same age as her middle brother Harlen, and when they got to high school Tilly made sure everyone was aware that Lacey was the little sister of that nasty piece of work who’d gotten a poor innocent girl pregnant and then dropped her like she was nothing. In their small school that was all it took to keep Lacey firmly on the social black list, and that Tilly herself had gotten pregnant their junior year hadn’t provided much consolation.
Boots on the Ground: Homefront, Book 1 Page 10