Lieutenant Norton and Griffin Powell came in behind Quinn. Griffin removed the unused gun from Quinn's trembling hand.
"How bad are you hit?" Griffin asked.
"Hurts like hell," Quinn said as he clutched his shoulder, blood dripping between his fingers. "But I'll live." He glanced at Jace, whose crumpled body lay on the floor.
Lieutenant Norton inspected Jace's body. "Would you look at that? He's your spitting image, Cortez, with that black wig on."
As Annabelle struggled unsuccessfully to free herself so she could go to Quinn, he came toward her. He walked around Jace's lifeless body, giving him only a quick glance, before hurrying to the bed.
"Quinn, you're hurt." Tears blurred Annabelle's vision.
He reached up, untied her hands and took her into his arms, then winced when she pressed against his injured shoulder.
She jerked away from him. "I'm sorry."
He circled the back of her neck with his big hand. "I'm the one who's sorry. Because of me, you nearly died."
"And because of you, I'm still alive."
He pulled her to his uninjured side. She wrapped her arms around him gently and laid her head on his good shoulder.
"He—he told me he was your son," Annabelle said. "His mother was Kelley Fleming. He had to be telling the truth. With that black wig and brown contacts, he looks so much like you." She lifted her head and her gaze locked with Quinn's. His eyes were filled with tears. "Oh, Quinn, I'm so very sorry. I couldn't let you kill your own son, not even to save me."
"I never knew. I swear to God, I had no idea I'd ever fathered a child."
She caressed his face. "Don't you think I know that? Despite all your faults, my darling, you would never have deserted a child the way your father deserted you."
Lieutenant Norton cleared his throat. "Let's get you two out of here. The local ME is on his way and the crime scene team will want everything as untouched as possible."
"And we need to get Quinn to the hospital ASAP," Griffin reminded them. "I'll drive y'all there. It'll be quicker than waiting on the ambulance."
Griffin had stayed at the hospital with Annabelle during Quinn's surgery and when she refused to leave, he stayed on with her throughout the night. He had left her only a few minutes ago, shortly after Quinn awoke. But before he left, he gave Quinn the report that had come in through his agents in Texas. A report on Kelley Morgan Fleming and her son, Jace.
Sitting on the edge of Quinn's bed, feeding him his breakfast, Annabelle had never felt so thankful. She had come very close to losing Quinn and if she had lost him, she wasn't sure she could have gone on living.
After eating half his meal and downing a full cup of coffee, Quinn told her, "That's enough." Then when she pushed aside the serving table, he reached out and grabbed her hand. "Since you're still here, does that mean you aren't going to run from me while you still can?"
"Silly, silly man." Lifting her hand to his forehead, she brushed back several stray curls. "Don't you know that you're stuck with me for the rest of our lives?"
"Annabelle . . ." He gazed at her pleadingly. "My stupid, careless actions when I was a teenager helped create that poor boy. I got a girl pregnant and never knew it. And my child—my son—grew up with a crazy woman who punished him because he reminded her so much of me."
"I didn't want Griffin to give you that report on Kelley Fleming and her son. I told him to wait until you'd recovered."
"Griffin knew I needed all the facts he could unearth and I needed them right away. I have a great deal to work through and I can't do that without the facts, without the truth."
"The truth is that you've made some mistakes in your life. Who hasn't? You can't change the past, can't go back and save Jace. But you can continue helping other kids in trouble, the way you've done for years. And I'll help you do it. We'll build a girls' ranch adjacent to the Judge Harwood Brown Boys' Ranch. We'll—"
With his good arm, Quinn reached out and pulled Annabelle to him, then lifted his head and kissed her. When the kiss ended, he smiled at her. "Don't ever leave me, querida. You're my only hope for salvation. You know that, don't you?"
"I know that I love you and you love me. And against all the odds, we found each other, fell in love and now have a chance for real happiness. I'd say that means you're as much my salvation as I am yours."
"Marry me, Annabelle. Marry me and help me become a better man than I've been in the past."
"You don't think being married being tied down to one woman, will bore you in a few months?"
"Not if that one woman is you."
Her face lit up with a deliriously happy smile. "Then the answer is yes. Yes, Quinn Cortez, I'll marry you."
Epilogue
One year later. . .
Annabelle and Quinn lay in front of the roaring blaze burning brightly inside the rock fireplace in their rustic home on Quinn's ranch, deep in the Hill Country of East Texas. They had married two and a half months ago, in a small white church not far from here, with Aunt Perdita as her Matron of Honor and Quinn's long-time friend, Johnny Mack Cahill, as his best man. Griffin Powell, Aaron Tully and Johnny Mack's family were their only guests. Since first meeting the Cahills, Annabelle and Johnny Mack's wife, Lane, had become fast friends, and she adored the Cahills children.
During their two-month honeymoon, which wasn't over yet, she and Quinn had barricaded themselves from the outside world, from the past and all its heartaches and regrets. It had taken them ten months to put their lives in order, ten months to endure three funerals, to bury family members and move beyond each tragedy.
Quinn had buried his son, a child he'd never known as his own. And although he had at first resisted the idea of therapy, he had finally seen a highly respected Houston counselor. After months of counseling, Quinn had accepted the reality of what had happened and the fact that all the self-hatred in the world wouldn't change anything, that it served no worthwhile purpose.
Only a few months after Jace Morgan's funeral, Annabelle's Uncle Louis had passed away quietly in his sleep. They had buried him near his beloved Lulu, in the family cemetery near Vanderley Hall, on a hot, humid day in late June. Uncle Louis had made Annabelle the executor of his will, thus putting her in charge of his vast fortune. Then, when his father hadn't been gone less than two months, Wythe had been arrested for raping a sixteen-year-old girl. Annabelle had used the Vanderley money to hire him a good lawyer, but she had refused to pull any strings to get him out of trouble. The family had saved him too many times in the past. But Wythe had never gone to trial. The father of the girl he had raped took matters into his own hands and shot Wythe with a long-range rifle, while Wythe was standing on the front veranda of Vanderley Hall one evening in early October.
Annabelle rolled over on the cushy rug in front of the fireplace and faced her husband, an adoring smile on her face. "So, tell me something, Mr. Cortez, are you bored with married life?"
He yanked her into his arms and kissed her passionately, then when she was breathless, he said, "Does that answer your question?"
Propping herself up on her elbow, she sighed contentedly. "We can't stay here forever, you know. I have an empire to run and you have a law practice that can't function much longer without you. Besides, all those delicious meals you've prepared for us while we've been here has put five pounds on me.
"Yes, I know." He stroked her hip. "On you those five pounds look great."
"Are you saying you'd love me if I got big and fat?"
"Yeah, I'd love you if you got big and fat and wore a tow sack."
"Ah, Quinn . . ."
He caressed her cheek tenderly. "I realize we have to return to the real world soon. Are you sure you don't want me to move my practice to Mississippi? I know it will be difficult for you to oversee Vanderley, Inc. from Houston."
"I can perform my duties as chairman of the board without living in Mississippi," she told him. "I plan to gradually, over the next seven or eight months, put tru
sted employees in key positions so that I won't need to personally oversee everything on a day-to-day basis."
He stared at her, a puzzled expression on his face. "Why would you do that?"
"Because I want to free up most of my time for the next few years so I can be a really good full-time mother to our child."
She waited and watched for his reaction when realization dawned.
"Annabelle? Querida? You're pregnant?"
Smiling, she nodded.
"How? When? Are you certain?"
"How? I'm pretty sure our making love had something to do with it. As for when it happened—probably on our wedding night. Am I certain? Yes, I am. I took a home pregnancy test that is supposed to be very reliable. And I have now missed two periods. And that bout with nausea this morning was the beginning of morning sickness."
Tears filled Quinn's black eyes as he laid his hand over Annabelle's still flat belly. "I swear to you that I will be the best father I can possibly be. I'll never let you or our child down. I'll—"
She kissed him. Then with tears of joy in her eyes, she said "You'll love us. That's what you'll do. And we'll love you . . . your daughter and I."
"Daughter, huh?"
"Or son."
"Doesn't matter, does it?"
"No. All that matters is that she—or he—is part of you and part of me. Conceived in love."
"And brought up surrounded by love."
Quinn wrapped her in his arms and brushed her temple with a wispy soft kiss.
Annabelle closed her eyes and sighed contentedly. Thank you, Lord. Thank you.
Dear Reader
While writing Killing Her Softly, I became fascinated with several of the secondary characters—Griffin Powell, Judd Walker, and Jim Norton—and realized that I would love to give each man his own book. I have chosen Jim as the hero for my next romantic suspense novel, Close Enough to Kill, and have given him a heroine, Sheriff Bernadette "Bernie" Granger, who is his match in every way. Both not only have careers in law enforcement, but they are also divorced from cheating spouses and have no desire to remarry. While working together to unearth the identity of a sadistic serial rapist/ killer who is terrorizing northeastern Alabama, these two move beyond their initial animosity for each other to cautious respect, budding friendship, and undeniable sexual attraction.
As the story in Killing Her Softly unfolded and I became better acquainted with former UT running back, Jimmy Norton, I knew I couldn't leave him behind when I finished the book. This lonely, tortured man deserved a second chance at life and love. And a second chance to be the father he truly wanted to be to his almost teenaged son.
Basically a good man who had made some unwise choices, Jim's youthful hopes and dreams never materialized partly due to circumstances beyond his control and partly due to his own mistakes. Turning forty, divorced his career as a Memphis homicide cop going nowhere and his relationship with his son deteriorating, Jim reached a crossroads in his life. Deciding his son is what mattered most to him, Jim relocated to a small Alabama town and took a demotion as a chief deputy in order to live closer to his remarried ex-wife. His first case on his new job proves not only challenging, but possibly deadly.
In the future, I hope to reintroduce you to Judd Walker and Griffin Powell, each man with a fascinating personal history and a story you will not want to miss.
I enjoy hearing from readers. You may contact me through my website at www.beverlybarton.com or by writing to me in care of Kensington Publishing Corp.
Warmest regards, Beverly Barton
Killing Her Softly Page 37