by Debra Dixon
Gabe was waiting for her by the time she’d finally figured out the gears. Before she could get out, he pulled open the passenger door. He didn’t need her help getting in. That was obvious from the way he gritted his teeth and just did it. He was a Navy SEAL, by God! They could take a lickin’ and keep on tickin’, she thought bitterly, wishing her heart could perform the same trick.
“Cascade Valley in Arlington is the closest hospital.” He gave her directions, swearing softly as she ground the gears.
“Sorry.” Her second attempt was better.
When they passed the rent-a-car sedan, Gabe spoke again. “His name was Walker Nance. He carried a marshal’s badge, and he had some transport and transfer papers on your hit man, Joseph Bookman.”
“Well, now, that was a bright idea,” she said sarcastically. “Sort of like letting the fox into the henhouse.”
“Yeah, well, we don’t know if he was doing the transporting. Probably wasn’t. The papers are probably proof that he dusted Bookman. And if Bookman’s dead, your testimony no longer matters to the prosecutor. Or to whoever was paying Nance. You’ll be free. You can have your life back.”
Emily almost laughed. Her life—what a joke. That wasn’t the life she wanted anymore, but she couldn’t tell Gabe that. He didn’t want to know; he probably wanted to pack her off as quickly as possible. His debt to Patrick had been paid in full. As far as he was concerned, canceled had been stamped across the account with a big rubber stamp.
“So, why risk it,” she asked, picking up the conversation. “Why’d he come after me if he had already killed Bookman?”
“With you dead he could probably have continued as a deputy marshal, working both sides of the fence. And then there’s the money. I’m sure he didn’t get it all up front.”
Tired from the effort of keeping his emotions off his face and out of his voice, Gabe turned away from her and stared out the window. The shadowy grays of dawn still hovered on the horizon, reminding him that he liked his world, as well as his choices, black and white. He liked simple. Loving Emma and letting her go was one of the grayest choices of his life.
He knew she was confused and hurt right now. He could see it in her eyes every time she glanced over at him, when she held open the emergency room door. She might bend, but she didn’t buckle. Another couple of hours of being safe and she’d be thankful she hadn’t done anything rash.
She’d get over it; the lady had guts. He had to give her that. Even under Chief Dayton’s barrage of suspicious questions, she’d held it together.
Miles Dayton was in his early fifties, the kind of methodical individual who’d spent his whole life in small-town law enforcement, hauling in drunks and scaring the hell out of teenagers for speeding. Cases involving murder, corruption, ice skaters in disguise, and the Mafia didn’t come up often. He wasn’t at all sure they were telling the truth until Officer Willis walked in.
It took Willis all of half a minute to absorb what Gabe told him and to convince Dayton to have the King County sheriff’s office run her name through the National Crime Information Computer.
King County called back in five minutes. They got a hit the instant they put in her name. Dayton mobilized the force. He sent Officer Willis out to the cabin, had the dispatcher call the King County coroner for a wagon, sent the part-time secretary out for muffins, and contacted the marshal’s office in Los Angeles himself.
By early afternoon Dayton had “solved” the case of his career. Willis had placed a phone call to his friend in California. Deputy marshals from the Seattle office had come and gone, taking all the evidence and notes from their interviews. They’d also confirmed Bookman’s death—one bullet, at the base of the skull. The marshal with him had been killed the same way.
“Well, I guess that about wraps it up, Miss Quinn,” Dayton said. “They’ll want to talk to you again, like they said, but they’ve got what they need for now. Just stay where they can find you.”
Emily actually laughed at the irony of his advice. “That has not been a problem so far.”
The police chief didn’t see the humor. He gave her an odd look as she walked away, and turned to Gabe. “You’ll see that she gets where she needs to go?”
“Yeah. I can handle that.” Gabe followed her out, knowing that she planned to be on the 4:30 Community Transit bus.
Emily waited for him in the truck and drove him back to the Last Call. Sunlight glinted mercilessly off the fresh snow. Everything around her was bright and shiny and new. Except for her life, she thought as she pulled up. Fate had conspired to give her back the old worn-out one.
Nevertheless, she owed Gabe for saving her life. And more. She owed him a debt. He wasn’t the only one who paid his bills.
If he didn’t want her in his life, then she wouldn’t force herself on him. She wouldn’t beg. She wouldn’t cry. She could even pretend her heart was in one healthy piece instead of broken all to hell. But whether he liked it or not, she’d find a way to pay him back.
Taking the keys out of the ignition when Emma made no attempt to do so, Gabe got out of the truck. “Careful of the glass by the door.”
“Something else to add to the bill,” she said under her breath as she climbed out.
“What?”
Emily winced. She hadn’t meant him to hear, but since he had … Why not get it over with? She wasn’t going to be here much longer anyway.
“I said, ‘Something else to add to the bill.’ One more service, one more favor, kindness, whatever. I’ve been running a tab since I walked into your bar.”
Unlocking the front door, Gabe said, “No.”
“Oh, yeah, I have. I owe you big.” She patted the black stretch pants, making herself smile brightly in case he bothered to look at her ever again. “I’m a little tapped out at the moment, but as soon as I get back to civilization, the new endorsement deals will go through.” She closed the door behind her. “I still have the face if not the hair, and … um … well, I figure if I paid off the mortgage on the bar and the cabin that we’d be even.”
Gabe felt his good hand curl into a fist of frustration. The only way they’d be even was if she loved him, and that wasn’t going to happen in this lifetime. Not real love anyway. To her he was only a down-on-his-luck bartender. Well, he didn’t take charity, and he sure as hell didn’t want a reward for saving her life. All he wanted was for her to pack her bags and leave him alone to howl at the moon and break glasses against the wall.
Most of all, he wanted her to go before he said he loved her.
So he sighed like a man reluctantly forced to point out the obvious. Gabe met her gaze without flinching and said, “You don’t owe me a thing. Whatever I did, I did for Patrick. Not for you. It’s over. Do you get it now, Emily?”
He called her Emily, she realized. His words knocked the breath out of her just as surely as a fist to the stomach would have. Emily. That hurt her more than he would ever know. She could still hear his husky words in the dark: Emily belongs to them. Emma is mine. It was one of the memories she would have cherished, and now it was gone, tarnished.
“And, darlin’, you’d better save your money, because as soon as those advertisers find out you faked your ankle injury, they’re going to want all that money back. I don’t think the Wheaties people will be too thrilled when they find out they have a coward on the box.”
Finally Emily found her voice, her mind spinning as she realized he knew something no one else in the world did. “A coward?”
He dropped his shoulder and let his coat fall onto a chair. “I saw the jumps that day at Sutter’s Pond. Damn! You were good. Even I could tell. You walked away from a gold medal, didn’t you? Guess you found a way to show your parents who was in control after all.”
Grabbing the closest chair, Emily sat down before she fell down. Gabe was pushing her buttons, pushing them hard. What for?
“Come on,” he urged as he strode behind the bar. “You can tell me. We’ve been through a lot together. Need a
drink? Well, I do. My shoulder is on fire.”
Emily felt empty inside, parched, but a drink wasn’t going to help. Wide-eyed, she stared at him, trying to make sense of it all, trying to pluck the one important detail out of the hundreds that spun in her brain. Only he wouldn’t stop talking long enough for her to think clearly.
“If you want to repay me for all my trouble,” he told her as he poured shots, “then leave me alone so I can get back to my life, and you can decide what you want to do with yours.”
He brought a shot of whiskey to her table and set it down. “One for the road.”
Shaking her head, she ignored him, couldn’t let him distract her. Bits and pieces of the past few days were beginning to settle in her mind.
I was never much good with faith.
Control is just an illusion.
You can have your life back.
It’s over.
You can decide what you want.…
Coward.
It’s over.
It’s over.
Those last two words kept repeating, pushing at her, nagging at her, throbbing in her consciousness until she finally got it. Stunned, Emily realized that Gabe, in his infinite wisdom, had decided that she needed to be sent out into the world to find what she wanted. He was trying to give her control of her life, trying to push her away so she wouldn’t look back.
Just like Sister Mary Joseph did for him.
Only Gabe wasn’t trying to protect Emily Quinn. He was trying to protect himself from rejection. To a man with Gabe’s past, it was better to send her on her way than risk his heart. The abandoned six-year-old who’d never had anyone he could believe in was making his decisions right now.
Deliberately she reached out and picked up the shot glass. A little Dutch courage wouldn’t hurt. She knocked the liquor back. It burned all the way down, warming her from the inside out. Or maybe the warmth came from the hope that Gabe might actually love her. She had a chance if she was willing to fight for it. All she had to do was convince Gabe that she wouldn’t change her mind and walk away, that she wouldn’t wake up one day and reject him.
She sighed as she returned the shot glass to the table under his watchful gaze. He wasn’t much good with faith. Maybe that’s what she was supposed to teach him. If she was lucky, it’d take a lifetime.
“You found out a lot about me in a short period of time,” she mused. “Wonder if I learned as much about you?”
“Does it really matter at this point?” Gabe said cuttingly.
“I don’t know.” She toyed with the edge of the glass. “Let’s find out. You like your women to be women, and your emotions to behave. And when they don’t, you banish them and put that I-don’t-give-a-damn mask on. You’re hell on a pool table, with or without a cue stick. No matter what you say, you love that damn cat and try so hard not to show it.”
“Finished?”
“No. There’s one other thing.”
Gabe narrowed his eyes as Emma got up and took off her coat. She pushed her sleeves up and braced her feet. All the hurt and confusion were gone from her eyes, but not the vulnerability. Or the expectation. Both those emotions were there in full measure.
“You like being in control,” she added to the list. “You like being able to say ‘It’s over.’ But it’s not over this time, Gabe. It’s not over until I say it’s over. You taught me that, and so did my dad, actually. But the point is, I’m not the same woman that walked into this bar three days ago. You can’t make decisions for me. No one can but me.”
“I haven’t.”
“Oh, yes, you have. You decided I don’t know what I want. No,” she corrected herself carefully, “you’ve decided I can’t be trusted.”
He picked up the shot glass and walked away.
“I heard this great joke the other day,” she said, willing him to stop, willing him to listen. “A nun walks into a bar …”
That got his attention. He didn’t turn around, but he stopped. God, Emma, can’t you just let me do the right thing for the right reasons for once in my life? Don’t make me want what I can’t have. Don’t be grateful.
A war of silence raged between them until he gave in, and asked, “What’s the punch line?”
“She falls in love with a man who doesn’t believe in love. And sometimes he pushes people away when he wants to pull them close. Because he’s afraid they won’t love him back. And the nun thinks maybe he just needs proof.”
Slowly Gabe turned, afraid to believe what he heard offered in her voice. He searched her face, looking for signs of the shy, uncertain woman who walked into his life. He couldn’t find anything but confidence and determination. The vise around his heart shifted and loosened a tiny bit, but he couldn’t let go all the way. Not until he gave her one last chance to walk away, one last push.
He closed the distance between them. “You didn’t fall in love. You fell into danger. It’s the situation, the gratitude, making you feel this way.”
“I know the difference. And you know why? Because I’m grateful to Patrick.” She broke her promise about crying then. She felt a tear roll down her cheek. “But I love you, Gabe. It’s the only thing between me and an eternity of nothing.”
Gabe felt her love wrap itself around his heart and seep into his soul, replacing the sadness. A weight lifted, and he realized that Patrick would always be with him. He sent Emma to love him. Forever.
“Sweet Emma, I have been waiting for you my entire life,” Gabe said, wishing he had two good arms. He kissed her anyway. Long and hard. And afterward he rested his forehead against hers and said the words that lived inside his soul, words that would erase the painful silence he’d kept. “I love you, Emma. I have loved you for a very long time.”
She kissed him again. As she broke the kiss, he could feel her lips curve into a satisfied smile. “How long? Exactly how long?”
The teasing tone in her voice warmed him, erasing the last of his doubts. “Darlin’, I was lost the first time you looked at me.”
Pulling back, she laughed. “I don’t think so! I was wearing a nun’s habit at the time!”
“Okay, so I’m not a saint.”
“Good. Because I’m not looking for a saint.”
“What are you looking for?” Gabe asked the question that he knew would be asked again and again over the years—a private joke between the two of them.
“I’m looking for you.”
“I’m right here.” Gabe drew her to him, resting his chin on her hair. “I always will be, Emma.”
“I know.” She buried her head against his chest, trying to be careful of his arm. “Would you really have let me walk out that door?”
Gabe smiled. “Not for long. And never again.”
THE EDITOR’S CORNER
Welcome to Loveswept!
There’s no better way to kick off the summer than with sultry hot reads … which is why we’re releasing four sizzling romances in June.
ABOUT LAST NIGHT is Ruthie Knox’s sexy and smart second eBook original for Loveswept. This rollicking story will make you laugh while tugging at your heartstrings—it’s the perfect read for when you’re relaxing under the sun. And while you’re at it. check out RIDE WITH YOU. another fantastic book from Ruthie.
A steamy and passionate love story full of seductive promises … Gayle Kasper’s HERE COMES THE BRIDE centers around a reformed bad boy and the virtuous, blushing heroine who falls for him.
THE WEDDING CHASE by Rebecca Kelley is a sparkling and witty story where a charming rogue’s moment of weakness leads to a dangerous liaison with an independent beauty. You won’t want to put this exhilarating read down.
Business turns into pleasure when sparks fly between a wealthy divorcé and an intriguing interior decorator in Sally Goldenbaum’s utterly disarming story, MOONLIGHT ON MONTEREY BAY.
If you love romance … then you’re ready to be Loveswept!
Gina Wachtel
Associate Publisher
P.S. Watch for t
hese terrific Loveswept titles coming soon: July brings
Elisabeth Barrett’s debut e-original novel, the brilliant DEEP AUTUMN HEAT. Kristen Kyle’s incredibly appealing THE LAST WARRIOR, and Adrienne Staff’s stunning KEVIN’S STORY. And in August, we have Sally Goldenbaum’s sensual FOR MEN ONLY and Linda Cajio’s moving JUST ONE LOOK. Don’t miss any of these extraordinary reads. I promise that you’ll fall in love and treasure these stories for years to come.…
Read on for excerpts from more Loveswept titles …
Read on for an excerpt from Linda Cajio’s
All Is Fair …
One
It was his thirty-sixth birthday.
As a waiter cleared away the remains of his birthday dinner, Morgan Abbott absently touched the silvering temples of his chocolate-brown hair and decided that birthdays were overrated, embarrassing, and only fussed about by people whose birthday it wasn’t. After all, he was thirty-six. and not a nine-year-old, excited about presents and birthday cake. He didn’t even like desserts anymore.
But George Boswick, his friend and business associate, had insisted on celebrating this milestone by taking him out for drinks and dinner at an elegant North Shore Chicago restaurant, since he, Morgan, had been away from home on a business trip on his birthday. George and his wife had even provided a kind of date for him to make the party a foursome.
Morgan glanced at his date. Lisa, an attractive blonde, was a junior executive in the accounting department of George’s electronics supply company. She had just the right amount of brains, ambition, and soothing personality to take her far in the corporate world. As chairman and chief executive officer of Abbott Industries Morgan knew that she was exactly the kind of person he wanted working for him. Lisa knew it, too, he thought, as she gave him a polite, yet acknowledging smile that meant she was happy with her job, but was open to another company’s offer of more money and quicker promotions.
Realizing he was vaguely thinking of her only as a prospective employee, Morgan ruefully chuckled under his breath. He was getting too damn old.