Renegade

by Diana Palmer

  "You're firing nobody, on my orders," Cash said at once. "I'll be there in ten

  minutes. You tell Brady he'll have to talk to me

  before any jobs are sacrificed, and that goes double for Senator Merrill." "The senator's daughter is on her way here, too. She's thick with Jordan Powell." Powell was a rich rancher. Very rich, and very high-tempered. Cash wondered if

  facing down a hit man wasn't an easier proposition than stepping into this lava pit. "I'm on my way. Keep your cool," Cash told the man. Sandie shook her head when he hung up the phone. "No need to tell me what's going

  on. One of our deputies got fired for pulling over a state legislator once. Never had a

  chance." "These officers aren't walking," he said curtly. Cash put on his uniform, took his service revolver and holster out of his desk

  drawer and put them on.

  The bustle of activity made Tippy curious. She came out of her bedroom and down the hall, stopping short when she saw Cash in uniform. It was a shock, even though she'd seen him that way when she was filming in Jacobsville. It had been a long time.

  "You look very nice. Are you going to work at this hour?" she asked. He glanced at her. "Go back to bed. You need to be resting. I've got a small problem downtown. I'll be back when I can."

  Tippy had to bite her tongue to stop from saying "be careful." She had a sudden, shocking glimpse of what it would be like if they were married and she had to watch him go to work every day, knowing he might not come home.

  The knowledge was in her whole expression. Cash saw it and was disturbed by it. He checked his weapon and holstered it before walking to Tippy and taking her gently by the shoulders.

  "This is what I do," he said softly. "I don't know a way of life that doesn't involve risk of some sort. In fact, I don't think I could live without it."

  She couldn't help feeling that he was making a statement about their future. She managed a smile. "I know you're good at what you do. Judd told me." His big hands lifted to frame her face. "I'm always careful, and the only real risks I take are calculated ones. I'm not suicidal, even remotely. It's carelessness that gets you killed in this business." She drew in a long breath and lifted her hands to straighten his tie. She smiled, because it was such an intimate, domestic thing to do. "Don't get killed," she said simply.

  His heart jumped. He bent and drew his lips very softly over her full lips. She

  wasn't wearing makeup to camouflage her bruises, but she was still beautiful. She

  smelled vaguely of roses.

  She lifted her face closer to his, her eyes closed, her mouth smiling. Her hands

  were on his chest now, because it was painful to lift them as far as his tie. She loved

  letting him kiss her. This was a slow, tender kiss tasting unlike the kisses that had

  gone before. This one wasn't urgent or passionate or ardent. It was gentle. It made

  promises.

  "Go back to bed," he said when he lifted his head. His dark eyes were turbulent.

  "This may take a while."

  "Okay."

  He cocked an eyebrow. "Doesn't that sound docile," he chided, studying her guileless

  smile. "And the minute I walk out the door, you'll be cleaning the kitchen or trying to

  rearrange the cabinets."

  "Not yet. It still hurts too much." She smiled demurely. "I'll wait until next week,

  at least."

  He chuckled softly. "Don't get too comfortable," he murmured. "I'm a happy

  bachelor."

  "There's no such thing," she replied smugly.

  He gave her a daunting look, but she kept smiling.

  "Did somebody rob a bank?" she probed.

  "They're trying to fire two of my officers for stopping a politician who was driving

  drunk," he replied.

  Her eyes opened wide. "Why?"

  "Because he's a rich politician."

  "Big deal," she said flatly. "The law is the law."

  "Darling!" he exclaimed and kissed her firmly. He drew back at once, and chuckled at her expression. "Don't get your hopes up. That was an accident." She cocked her head, curious. He shrugged. "I like it when you take my side." She grinned. "I know where we could get a ring," she said to irritate him. He pursed his lips. "So do I, but we're not getting one."

  Tippy spotted Mrs. Jewell at the kitchen door. "Mrs. Jewell, he's toying with my affections and he won't marry me."

  Mrs. Jewell gaped at her.

  "No, he won't," Cash agreed pleasantly. "And I am not toying with your affections. I only kissed you because you think I'm right." "No, you didn't. You kissed me because you couldn't help yourself." She struck a pose, despite the twinge of pain in her rib cage. "I'm simply irresistible."

  "You need a guitar and a band and you can sing that," he pointed out.

  She remembered the song he was alluding to, whose wonderful composer had died. "It was a great song." "I thought so, too," he said. He gave her a wicked look. "Go to bed." She wiggled her eyebrows at him. "And you stop that," he added firmly. "Mrs. Jewell is going to protect me from

  you, so watch your step." "You're really going to do that?" Tippy asked the older woman. "Don't you like me?" Mrs. Jewell burst out laughing. Cash took the opportunity to shoot out the door while he was still one step ahead.

  "I've known him almost a year," she told Tippy, as they listened to his car drive away. "Never saw him laugh as much as he has in the past few minutes. I think he's sweet on you."

  "I'm hurt and he feels sorry for me," Tippy replied carelessly. "But he doesn't growl so much when I'm teasing him." Mrs. Jewell's dark eyes didn't miss much. "Love him a lot, don't you?" she probed. Tippy hesitated, then she smiled and sighed. "For all the good it will do either one of

  us. He's not a marrying man, and he sees

  me as a risk." "What you are on the screen isn't what you are at home," the

  other woman pointed out.

  "How perceptive of you," Tippy said, surprised. "Most people can't see that."

  "I've had a lot of practice sizing up people," Mrs. Jewel said. "Now you get back in

  bed, Miss Tippy. You need rest, so that you can get better."

  Tippy touched her face. The cuts were still sore and red. "I must look terrible,"

  she said.

  "You look like someone who's been hurt, dear," came the soft reply. "Those cuts and

  bruises will heal. So will your ribs. But you must rest and drink lots of fluids so that

  you don't let your lungs get any more congested. Flying in a pressurized cabin can't

  have helped them."

  "It didn't, very much," Tippy confessed. "But driving that dis

  tance would have been so much worse. I've got medicine, and I promise I'll take it. I really want to finish this film, so I get paid." She noticed how the older woman was looking at her and felt anger about the tabloids' reporting of her earlier accident.

  "An assistant director swore that jump was harmless and refused to hire a stunt double," she explained. "I didn't have a good feeling about it, but I didn't want to lose my job because I was being paranoid about risking the pregnancy. I didn't have much money coming in, and there was my little brother's school fees and my rent to pay. I'd done similar stunts without an accident so I foolishly trusted the assistant director and took a chance I should have refused to take. As a result, I lost my footing and fell. And I lost my baby," she added, almost choking on the words.

  Mrs. Jewell winced. "I lost two," she said softly. "I know how it feels."

  The two women exchanged looks. Words weren't even necessary.

  "Go back to bed," Mrs. Jewell prompted. "I'll bring you something nice to drink and then maybe you can sleep." "I won't until Cash comes home," Tippy said worriedly. The other woman chuckled, herding Tippy toward the bedroom. "That's one man

  you never have to worry about. He can take care of himself. Wait and see!"

  THE POLICE STATION, usually quiet with a
skeleton crew on the night shift, was literally a hothouse of activity. Three patrol officers were standing around the desk at which the night secretary/bookkeeper worked. A senior citizen was weaving slightly and making threats of immediate action against two patrol officers—a male and a female—who were tight-lipped and worried. A beautiful young woman in expensive clothes was telling everyone what was going to happen if they didn't drop the charges against her father immediately. Cash walked in, his very stride threatening. "Okay, what's

  up?" he asked curtly. Everybody started talking at once. Cash held up his

  hand. "Who made the collar?" he asked. Lieutenant Carlos Garcia, a veteran officer

  who was in charge of the patrol unit, and Officer Dana Hall, a new female recruit,

  stepped forward. Cash knew them well. Garcia's wife was the county public health

  nurse, beloved by the local citizens. Dana's late father had been one of the most

  respected superior court judges in the circuit.

  "Hall was riding with me," Garcia said quietly. "We observed a car weaving in and out

  of its lane and bumping the shoulder repeatedly. We followed him for a mile to make

  sure the complaint was valid. He almost hit another car head-on. That was when I

  threw on my lights and siren and pulled him over." "Go on." Cash urged him to

  continue. "Hall and I approached the car in a textbook manner, one on either side of

  the car, in case the suspect was armed. I asked to see his license and registration, but

  the perpetrator immediately stepped out and began making threats. I smelled alcohol

  on his breath, so I tested his reflexes by making him touch his nose with his eyes closed and walk a straight line. He couldn't do either." "What happened next?" Cash

  probed. "I then advised him that I was bringing him into the station for a breath

  test. He began cursing me and began resisting arrest. I subdued him while Hall

  handcuffed him. We brought him in, and administered the test. His blood alcohol

  is .15—which puts him well over the legal limit for alcohol consumption—so I

  issued a citation, locked him up and had our bookkeeper Miss Phibbs phone his daughter, at his request, to sign a property bond and secure his release until his hearing."

  "You can't arrest my father for drunk driving the month before the primary election!" the senator's pretty blond daughter protested. "I want these officers fired. My father is not drunk!"

  "Indeed, I am...am not!" the senator mumbled. "You're all fired!" he added, weaving.

  "Since you've posted bond, you can go home in your daughter's custody," Cash told the older man pleasantly. "You'll appear in city court before the city judge to defend the charge. At that time, the judge will make a decision about the possible revocation of your driver's license."

  "Our attorney will take care of all that, the minute I can get in touch with him. You can bet on it!" the senator's daughter said haughtily.

  "You can't take away my license, I'm a senator!" the old man said belligerently.

  "That will be for the court to decide."

  "I'll have your job for this!" the senator raged furiously.

  Before the situation could escalate, the acting mayor, Ben Brady, came into the station in a T-shirt and slacks that looked hastily thrown on. "What's going on?" he asked, and the arresting officers had to explain the situation once more. "Bosh," Brady said huffily. "My uncle never drinks and drives. You can drop the charges and tear up that bond. This is all a mistake."

  "It is not a mistake," Cash said firmly, moving closer to the mayor, whom he towered over. He looked threatening. "My officers made a legitimate arrest. They have the results of a breath-analysis test to back it up. The senator is over the legal limit for

  driving. He is being issued with citations for the offense. That's the law."

  Brady turned red in the face. "We'll just see what our city attorney thinks about that!" "He'd better think that these officers are hired to enforce the law," Cash returned. "And before you question that," he added when Brady started to speak again, "you'd better remember that Simon Hart is the state attorney general." "Which won't help you...!" Brady raged. "The Harts are my second cousins," Cash replied quietly, and there was a sudden stillness in the room. He hadn't made that bit of information public before.

  Brady turned to the senator. "Uncle, I'm certain this is all just a mistake. Go along

  with what they want you to do for now. I'll set up a disciplinary hearing for the arresting

  officers next month and we'll get to the bottom of this. You won't object to that, I

  hope?" he asked the chief of police.

  Cash only smiled. "Why should I? My officers did nothing wrong." The smile faded.

  "But they will not be suspended, with or without pay, until they are formally charged

  with misconduct and given the opportunity to defend themselves."

  Brady looked as if he wanted badly to make that charge, but he was intimidated by

  Cash. "Very well," he said huffily. "Your people will be notified when to appear in city

  court."

  "You'd better look for another job," Julie Merrill said hatefully.

  "Oh, I have a job, Miss Merrill," Cash replied pleasantly. "I have no plans to

  resign."

  "We'll see about that!" she scoffed.

  Cash smiled at her. She actually took a backward step and rejoined her father

  and the acting mayor without saying another word.

  MINUTES LATER, the office was cleared of civilians. Only the bookkeeper—smiling smugly —Cash and his two patrol officers were still in the building. He glanced at his two distraught officers. "What?" he asked, when he saw their expressions.

  Garcia shifted uncomfortably. "We thought you'd want us to resign."

  "That's right," Hall agreed.

  "Like I can just go out and pick up two good patrol officers any time I feel like it in

  a town of less than two thousand souls!" Cash exclaimed.

  "It's going to be messy," Garcia said. "I've seen this happen before. Old Sergeant Manley arrested a city councilman for drunk driving years ago, and they fired him. He was a year away from retirement. Chief Blake never said a word."

  Cash met the other man's eyes evenly. "I'm not Chet Blake."

  Sergeant Garcia managed a smile. "Yes, sir. We, uh, noticed."

  Cash stood up, with Hall beside him.

  "Thanks for standing up for us, Chief," Officer Hall said. "But we're willing to resign, if we have to." "I'm not resigning," Cash said easily. "Neither is anybody else, for doing his job. Or her job," he added with a grin at Hall. "They won't make it easy," Garcia persisted. "And we don't have legal counsel. We're such a small department that there's no attorney on staff."

  "We might get Mr. Kemp," Hall ventured.

  "I'll get legal counsel," Cash told them in a pleasant tone. "You're going to find

  that a lot of people around here are tired of politicians bypassing the law. We're going

  to put a stop to it. And nobody's quitting. Got that?" They smiled, not really believing him, but more hopeful than they'd been when they walked into the room.

  CASH WENT HOME, tired but satisfied. He should have been surprised that Tippy was still up, waiting for him in the living room. "I told Sandie to make sure you went to bed!" he grumbled. "Don't blame her," Tippy replied, wrapped up comfortably in a gown with a quilted robe covering up all of her, except her hands and feet and head. "She can't stay up late. Once she was asleep, I got up again. I felt like sitting up for a while, that's all," she lied. Actually, she'd been afraid that something had happened to Cash, and there was no way she could have slept until he was home.

  He had one of the strangest feelings he'd ever known in his life. He couldn't remember

  a single time when his wife had waited up to see if he'd come home or not, even

  when he thought she love
d him the most. He was completely alone. Now, here sat this

  gorgeous woman with red-gold hair and haunting green eyes, a woman who was

  idolized by men everywhere. And she was sitting up on his sofa waiting, because she'd