by Debra Cowan
He straightened. “Merritt?”
She stood frozen, held in place by the horrible realization that slammed into her. What she had asked Bowie to do and not to do. Every time she had come to him with info about Saul, she had asked Bowie not to act. He had done what he had needed to, but it was no thanks to her.
She shouldn’t have asked that of him. What if he’d felt she was presuming on their friendship or the fact that he lived in her house? Taking advantage.
That was what Saul had done to her. And she had done it to Bowie.
She looked at him, looked close.
He watched her expectantly. Resigned.
“I thought if I gave Saul enough chances, he would take one of them, turn his life around. But he didn’t. And he isn’t going to. I see that now.”
Bowie’s eyes widened, the hazy light softening his hard jaw.
“I don’t want you to go easy on him. He needs to pay for what he’s done.”
“What?” He looked at her as if she had just drawn down on him.
“Saul’s beyond my help, but not yours.”
The big marshal just stared at her with a dazed look on his face.
“Bowie,” she whispered in a choked voice as she walked over to him. “I’m sorry. I finally understand what Saul is and what he isn’t. And what you are.”
His eyes darkened.
“I’m willing to put Saul’s fate in your hands.” And my fate, too, she added silently.
“Why? Because you’re mad enough at him to bite the head off a hammer?” he asked gruffly.
“No.” It hit her then that she wasn’t here only because she was angry and fed up, but because she trusted Bowie. She smiled, lifting a hand to his face, amazed at her certainty of this man. “It’s because you’re a good, honest man and I trust you to do the right thing.”
He put his hand over hers, then brought it to his mouth, turning it to kiss the center of her palm. The emotion blazing in his eyes had her moving closer until her breasts touched his solid chest and she stood between his powerful thighs.
“And you’re not going to ask me to give you one more chance to talk him in?”
“No.”
Heat flared in his eyes and he lowered his head to kiss her.
She rolled up on tiptoe to meet him. It was exhilarating, intoxicating. The tender kiss quickly turned demanding and she was more than willing to give him whatever he wanted. Give him everything.
He deepened the kiss, sliding his hands into her hair, pushing off the ribbon holding her ponytail. The heavy mass slid across her shoulders in a thick curtain.
Making a noise deep in his chest, he swung her up in his arms and walked to the bed, laying her across the mattress. When he came down on top of her, he settled between her legs, holding her head and kissing her until she felt as if she were spinning.
He dragged his mouth to her jaw, her neck, up to her ear. He pressed openmouthed kisses down her neck, nibbling at the collarbones showing above the rounded collar of her dress.
Breathing hard, he lifted his head, his features sharp with desire. He pushed up on one arm, stroking her hair from her face. “I want you,” he said hoarsely.
“I want you, too.” This man had been there for her every time she had needed him. Whether it was about Saul or Lefty or Hobbs. Or helping her in the kitchen because of an injured hand. Calming, reassuring her, sometimes protecting her.
“Stay with me,” he said into her neck, sending a shiver through her.
She had told him everything she knew. Now she wanted to give him everything, including herself. “Yes.”
He kissed her again.
Restless, she tugged his shirt from his trousers and slipped her hands to the bare skin beneath. When she pushed the fabric up to his shoulders, he reached back to pull the garment over his head.
He moved his mouth to her ear, his hand cupping her breast. “I want to see you.”
She nodded, her stomach dipping. Though he tried to open the small buttons down the front of her bodice, his fingers were too big.
“Here.” Merritt pushed at his chest and he sat back, helping her sit up.
As she thumbed open the buttons, he threaded his fingers through her hair, lifting the mass and inhaling deeply. “Gorgeous.”
Merritt’s top parted and she opened it, pushing the sleeves down her arms. She felt a tug at the low neck of her camisole as Bowie tried to undo the tiny buttons there, too.
Before she could get her arms free to help, he made an impatient noise and closed his mouth over her through the muslin of her undergarment.
A ragged moan spilled out of her and she arched into him. The wet fire of his mouth set something off inside her, a desperate need to feel his skin against hers.
She pulled off her bodice and reached behind her to unfasten her skirt and petticoat as she toed off her shoes.
She went to work on her camisole, lifting up so he could pull off her skirt and petticoat, untie the tapes on her drawers and shove them off. He ran his hands up her bare thighs, and when she freed the last button on her camisole and it fell open, he froze.
The look in his eyes had her mouth going dry. Staring at her almost reverently, he traced his index finger over one blue vein from the swell of her breast to her nipple. He brushed his thumb along the inner plump curves before he lowered his head and took her in his mouth.
Her entire body quivered. He drew away, arousal streaking his cheekbones, raw desire in his face as his hands went to his trousers.
After getting rid of her camisole, she helped him undo his buttons until she could slip inside and curl her hand around him.
The muscles in his stomach clenched. Pushing his pants off, he moved her farther up the bed. His mouth found hers as he swept a hand over her hip. A work-roughened palm coasted down her stomach, then between her legs to delve a finger into her silky heat. Then a second finger.
She stroked his hot, rigid flesh, urging him to her. He rose over her, moonlight softening his jaw and the blaze of emotion in his eyes.
Holding her gaze, he slid inside and she pulled in a deep breath, curling her arms around his corded neck. She pressed into his touch, her legs tightening around him. He moved deep and sure, driving her up a dizzying peak.
He moved a hand to her lower back, lifting her into each stroke of his body, and gathered her even closer, kissing her, coaxing her to surrender to him.
When she felt tiny urgent pulses inside her, his muscles bunched and he went over the edge with her.
After a long moment, she came back to herself.
His weight pressed her into the mattress and she ran a hand over his sweat-dampened back, aware of a light breeze working through the room. His breathing was ragged, his flesh slick on hers. He brushed a kiss against her temple, then her forehead, each of her eyes.
She moved her hands over the tough sinew of his shoulders, his iron-hewn arms. He lifted up to look at her, smiling tenderly as he stroked her hair away from her face.
He rolled onto his back, bringing her on top of him, keeping her close. Pale light filtered into the room and she drew in the musky scent of his skin.
Outside, she heard the chirp of crickets and the distant bawl of a cow. Flattening one hand on his chest, she snuggled into him.
His arms tightened around her, his voice rumbling beneath her ear. “Stay.”
Drowsily, she nodded, realizing what she felt was more than trust. She had feelings for this man. This lawman.
She knew he cared for her, too. Being with him felt right. Her decision to come to him tonight had been a good one. Not only because she trusted him, but also because she…loved him.
She loved him.
Listening to his deepening breathing, she held him tight and closed her eyes.
Bowie woke to the feel of soft fingers stroking his hair. He rolled to his back, blinking himself awake. Pale pink daylight washed over the woman sitting on the side of his bed.
Merritt. Memories of last night had him tug
ging her down on top of him to kiss her. She kissed him back, then laughingly pulled away.
“I have to go change clothes, then start breakfast.”
“Lefty and Mr. Wilson can fend for themselves this morning.”
He sat up, moving his face into the thick tumble of her hair, glad she had left it loose. He kissed her neck.
She sighed, making him want to pull her back down onto the bed. “No, I have to go.”
He drew back to look at her, his gaze moving over her body, wishing she hadn’t already dressed. His attention lingered on her for so long that she blushed.
“Stop.”
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll get dressed and come down to help you.”
The smile that curved her mouth had Bowie’s body going hard. He traced her lips with his index finger. “I like that smile.”
She nipped at his finger and stood. “I’ll see you downstairs.”
He grumbled, watching the sway of her hips as she walked to the door, admiring the dark satin curtain of her hair, remembering the petal-soft feel of her skin. He wondered how long it would be before he could get his hands on her again.
After she left, he lay there for a moment, thinking back over last night and why she had come to him in the first place. She’d seen Saul for what he was and trusted Bowie to do the right thing.
He knew Merritt hadn’t come upstairs with the intention of sleeping with him, but he also knew she wouldn’t have given herself to him if she didn’t trust him. If she didn’t have feelings for him.
He was glad they’d taken their time to get to know each other. Her surrender last night told him she accepted him for who he was, for everything he was, badge and all.
Alone in this bed, he realized that she belonged beside him. In bed or out. As much as his feelings for her had scared him when he had first realized them, now he welcomed them.
He was dressed and downstairs in five minutes. When he saw that her bedroom door was closed, and neither Mr. Wilson nor Lefty were anywhere to be seen, Bowie grinned, intending to slip into her room and get at least one more kiss.
Wanting to surprise her, he soundlessly turned the knob and stepped inside, shutting the door just as quietly as he had opened it. She stood next to the window, bathed in the first touch of sunlight. Only half of the buttons up the front of her blue dress were fastened and her hair swirled around her shoulders. She stared at something in her hand.
Bowie’s gaze followed hers and it took him a moment to register what he was seeing. A piece of jewelry. A ruby, a silver chain. There, in her palm, lay a necklace.
His mother’s necklace.
No, it couldn’t be. He must be seeing things, but as he stepped closer, he knew he wasn’t. That was his mother’s necklace in Merritt’s hand. The necklace that had been missing since Ruby Cahill’s murder.
Merritt looked up then, horror and guilt chasing across her delicate features when she saw him.
All of the loss, the guilt and regret he’d carried for the last two years rose up.
Fury gathered inside him with the force of a twister and he exploded. Before he even realized he’d moved, he crossed the room and gripped her wrist. “Where in the hell did you get that?”
Chapter Thirteen
Merritt jumped at the savagery in Bowie’s voice, but she understood he was probably shocked at seeing his mother’s necklace. Shock that she had felt herself when Saul had shoved the necklace at her and ridden off just minutes ago.
Her blood had run cold when she realized he could have had the jewelry since Ruby was killed. Maybe even taken it off her neck himself.
Bowie’s grip tightened on her wrist as he stared down at her palm, his eyes glittering with a viciousness that took her aback. “Answer me.”
“Saul. I got it from Saul. I told him to give it to you himself.” Some of her initial dismay was fading and she tugged against Bowie’s iron grip. “You’re hurting me.”
He released her as if he couldn’t bear to touch her, plucking the necklace from her hand. He curled it into his fist.
“How long have you had this? When did you get it?”
The sharp-edged questions flew at her like arrows. “This morning. Right before you walked in the door.”
“How long was he here?”
“Less than five minutes. He rode right up to the window and apologized for last night. He knew how angry he’d made me.”
Bowie stalked to the open window and yanked aside the curtains, his gaze panning the treed hillside. “Which direction did he go?”
“South. He rode for the trees. After that, I don’t know.” Realizing he was furious, she rubbed her wrist. “You have to be shocked. I was, when Saul gave it to me.”
“Shocked.” He barked out a harsh laugh. “You might say that.”
Oh, yes, he was enraged and it seemed to be directed more toward her than Saul. “I told him to come in and talk to you. Instead, he pushed the necklace at me and rode off. When I saw it, I knew what it was, knew that it had belonged to your mother. I couldn’t believe he had it.”
Bowie turned from the window, his eyes narrowed. “Why did he give it to you?”
“Maybe it was his idea of showing remorse. He knew I would pass it on to you and probably thought it would get him back in my good graces.”
“And get you back in mine?” Bowie’s lips twisted.
“If so, his plan obviously didn’t work,” she murmured. Her astonishment—and horror—over Saul having the necklace had waned. Now she was very aware of the suspicion in Bowie’s eyes. And the accusation.
“So, he’s had it for the past two years?”
“I asked, but he wouldn’t answer me.”
“That’s because he has had it.”
As much as Merritt hated the implication, she thought so, too.
Bowie stepped back over to her, his face set in stone. “Did you have this necklace last night?”
“No! If I had, I would’ve brought it to you.”
The brutal distrusting look he gave her cut her breath. Hurt bored in deep and twisted.
She inhaled sharply. “It belonged to your mother. Why would I hold on to it?”
“Maybe to keep me from finding out just how involved Saul really was in my parents’ murders.”
She shook her head, not understanding.
Bowie got right in her face. “If he has my mother’s necklace, that means he had to have put his hands on her to get it. After she was dead.”
“No!” Tears stung her eyes. She didn’t want to believe such a horrible thing, but she knew Bowie believed it.
It made her sick to realize he could be right. Was that why Saul had never even hinted that he had Ruby’s necklace? He knew Merritt had been friends with the woman, and if she had known about Saul’s participation in the Cahills’ murders, she would have turned him in herself. Something Saul knew, but Bowie obviously didn’t.
“If I’d even suspected such a thing,” she said, “I would’ve come straight to you.”
He gave her a look that said she might as well try to convince him that a gelding could be hired out to stud.
She could barely force the words through her tight throat. “Do you think I’ve known all along that Saul did more than just witness your parents’ murders? Because I haven’t. I’ve told you everything I’ve learned, as soon as I learned it. Last night, I told you every single thing I know.” Bowie scoffed. “Everything?”
Everything except that she loved him. Thank goodness she hadn’t confessed that.
Her temper spiked. “You obviously don’t believe me. Why would I lie?”
“So you could protect him? After all he’s done, to you and to my family, you’re still protecting your foster brother.”
“I told you I’m finished helping him.”
“Yeah.”
At his sarcasm, her stomach knotted. “You’re calling me a liar,” she said hoarsely.
“You’ve been protecting someone who likely did a hell of a lot more th
an stop my parents’ wagon.”
“Saul could’ve gotten that necklace from Pettit or Allen, and never laid a hand on your mother.”
“Still protecting him, I see.”
“No.” Merritt imagined her own mother in place of Bowie’s and her heart clenched.
Bowie towered over her, intimidating and dark. “For someone who was so determined not to become involved with a lawman who puts his job first, you seem to have no problem putting your friends ahead of a man you slept with. Ahead of the law, as well.”
She drew in a sharp breath at his brutal words. “That isn’t what’s going on. What I told you last night about Saul is exactly what I just told him. I’m out of it. I tried to help him and he threw it back in my face. Just like you’re doing.”
If her insult affected him at all, she couldn’t tell. Almost as though talking to himself, he said, “I know you didn’t take the necklace from him in the past few weeks, but you could’ve had it before then.”
“Or I could be telling the truth!” she snapped. “I saw it and found out about it only minutes ago. What do I have to do to prove that to you— Wait a minute. What do you mean, you know I wasn’t given the necklace during the past few weeks?”
His eyes were hard with anger. “I had you under surveillance.”
Surveillance? For a moment, she couldn’t speak. Queasy, she pressed a hand to her stomach, choking out, “You had someone watching me?”
“I was the one watching you.”
“Why? Because you thought I wouldn’t let you know if Saul contacted me?”
“At first, yes. Then later because I wanted to make sure Hobbs wasn’t a threat.”
She couldn’t stop a stab of hurt. “So, while you were surveilling me, did you see anything that might make you believe I haven’t told you the whole truth when I passed along Saul’s information?”
“No.”
“Then why don’t you believe me?” A horrible realization snaked through her. “You can’t or won’t take my word for it!”
When he didn’t respond, she knew she was right. She was starting to understand. Oh, yes. “You want me to put my trust in you, but you aren’t willing to do the same with me.”