DARE TO REMEMBER

by Debra Cowan

  A feeling of unease nagged at Mace. As they played cards, he went over what he knew about the case. Which wasn't much at the moment. It didn't help that he had to keep dodging thoughts of Devon, memories born of regret.

  His gut knotted at thoughts of her boyfriend, and he told himself it was just plain jealousy. There was no denying he wanted to smash in the guy's face every time he thought about the guy touching her, but this insistent burn in his gut hinted at something deeper than jealousy.

  He glanced up, his gaze tracing her features. A slight frown puckered her brow and her tongue peeked out as she concentrated on her hand. She was so beautiful.

  A wave of longing hit him. They would never be together again. Not like this. Not any other way. They'd reached a silent truce, an unspoken understanding that they would move on. And they would.

  Even so, he couldn't stop himself. "So, what's your boyfriend like?"

  Her gaze snapped up and her eyes widened. "Mace…"

  "Sorry." He gave a quick shake of his head. "Let me rephrase that. Are you happy?"

  The wariness left her eyes and they softened. His gut clenched and he gripped his cards so tightly the edges cut into his skin.

  He glanced down. "I … just want to know that you're happy with him. That things are good."

  "Of course they—" She broke off and took a deep breath, laying down her cards. "Truth?"

  He nodded, his heart banging in his chest.

  "Lately, I don't know what I think about him. I like him. He's sweet, courteous, gentle, fun. But there's just something … I don't know." She smiled, and it kicked Mace right in the gut. "Let's just say he wouldn't be able to make me laugh by turning on a vibrating bed.

  "Maybe we're still getting to know each other. Or maybe I'm just not ready to commit to that kind of relationship again."

  Her gaze was steady, but also uncertain. He could see that it cost her to be so honest with him. Despite telling himself not to, his heart leapt with hope. But they'd been here before and he wouldn't let himself be drawn in again.

  Even so, he couldn't stop his next words, either. "I can't imagine you with anyone else. Even now."

  Her gaze held his for a long moment—pleading or searching, he wasn't sure which. "Mom says you've been dating some?" He could tell by the uneven timbre of her voice how difficult the question had been for her.

  Except for her, there was no one in his past. No one he cared about. Or even remembered. He wasn't proud of that, but there it was. He wanted to ignore her question, but she'd been honest with him.

  And this might really be their last chance to say their final goodbyes to the past, to make peace with what they'd lost. As much as he wanted things to be different between them, he wanted more to know that she would be happy. He read that same desire in her eyes and realized she wanted the same for him.

  He shrugged. "There've been a few." But none like you. He didn't say it; he wouldn't. He wouldn't cross the line with her again.

  Their gazes held for a moment, both rich with memories of what had been and never would be again. Finally Mace folded his cards and put them back in their ragged box. "You might want to try and get a little rest. We'll probably leave as soon as we hear from O'Kelly."

  She pushed her cards over to him. "I don't think I could sleep. I'm too wound up."

  "Okay. I think I'll give it a shot, though."

  He knew she hadn't gotten any sleep last night, and purple shadows rimmed her eyes, but he wouldn't push her. He stretched out across the top of the bed, his head toward the bedside table so he could easily grab the cell phone when O'Kelly called. And so he could keep an eye on the door.

  Devon stretched out as well, but with her head close to his knees. She lay there for long minutes, staring blankly at the wall behind him until finally she closed her eyes.

  * * *

  He had dozed as well. When he woke, the sun had faded to a dull red and was turning steadily darker with the coming night. Mace rubbed his eyes, careful not to disturb Devon. She'd been asleep for quite some time now.

  In repose, the tightness around her mouth eased, and though she still looked tired, she didn't appear as frail as she had earlier. Her black hair fell across her face, and he reached out a careful finger to gently move the strands. The silky lock immediately fell back onto her cheek.

  He left it, his hand resting close to her face. His gaze traced over her ivory features as he recalled that soft light in her eyes when she'd confided in him about Josh. Strangely, Mace hadn't felt any satisfaction at all about her misgivings, simply a wish that she would find what she sought.

  She shifted on the bed and he drew back his hand.

  Her eyes fluttered, then opened. Soft and drowsy, they focused on him. A slow, unguarded smile curved her lips. "Hi," she whispered.

  She was wearing that sexy, vulnerable look she'd always worn after they'd made love. Her silver-green eyes clouded with desire and Mace's gut tightened. His blood hummed with an answering want.

  He leaned toward her. A warning clanged in his head, but he refused to acknowledge it. She lifted her face to his and their lips touched softly, briefly, a gentle nudge that rocked him down to his toes.

  Straining for control, he told himself to stop even as he opened his mouth a little wider over hers, wanting to coax her to him. Pure liquid heat streamed through him. She smelled of toothpaste and honeysuckle shampoo and tasted like a sultry summer night.

  She gave an involuntary moan in the back of her throat and he hardened in a flash. Even if he'd wanted to stop, which he didn't, there was no way. Desire sawed through him and his blood heated.

  This would lead nowhere. He knew it, yet he couldn't stop. He wouldn't stop.

  Near his head, the phone rang.

  Devon jerked away, her eyes wide and dark with passion and uncertainty.

  "Damn." He called himself all kinds of a fool. He reached behind him for the cell phone on the night table, flipped up the receiver and barked, "What?"

  "Move at dark." O'Kelly spoke low and fast. "Don't wait. We tried to pick up Terry Carroll, but the guy split just before we got there."

  Mace jackknifed to a sitting position; across from him Devon slowly pushed herself up, brushing her hair out of her eyes.

  Dread settled in Mace's gut. "Anything on the leak?"

  "Nothing solid. I'm looking at both secretaries in Special Projects."

  "Good. I hope something pans out. Soon." The pressure of being closed in with Devon was getting to him. It didn't help that O'Kelly was following up the leads, not Mace. "All right. We're moving."

  Devon edged closer to him, close enough that Mace could feel her heat, her fear. He wanted to reach for her, but kept his hands clenched at his sides.

  O'Kelly prodded. "Where will you go?"

  "I don't know. I'll let you know when I figure it out."

  "Hey, I'm on a secure line."

  "Maybe back to the cabin since they've already been there and probably won't return. Plus I know the sheriff there. I'll be able to get some backup if I need it."

  Devon's eyes darkened with alarm and Mace gave her a thumbs-up sign for reassurance.

  "That's probably a good idea. I'll be in touch as soon as I know something."

  "Right." Mace hung up and met Devon's somber gaze. "They tried to pick up one of the guys you ID'd, but he was gone."

  "What does that mean?"

  "It means he probably had word the cops were coming after him."

  "So now what?"

  "We move at dark, in about another hour."

  She licked her lips, her face pale once again, all traces of their earlier humor missing from her eyes. "Back to the cabin?"

  "I think so." Mace squeezed her shoulder. "Unless I come up with a better idea between here and there."

  She gave him a wan smile and scooted off the bed, reaching for her overnight bag.

  Mace stared at her shoulders, so thin, so fragile looking even though he knew their deceptive strength. He pulled the .
357 out of his duffel and moved behind her. "I want you to take this."

  She turned, her gaze snagging on the gun. "No. I don't even know how to use it."

  "I want you to carry it, just in case."

  "Just in case? Mace—"

  "I'll feel better knowing you have it, Dev."

  She swallowed, staring at the piece in his hand as if it might bite her. "I don't think I'd be able to use it."

  "That's all right. Just take it." He placed the gun in her hand. "Please. For me?"

  A sigh escaped her and uncertainty shadowed her features. "Oh, all right."

  She checked the safety as Mace had taught her, then lay it gingerly on top of her things before zipping the bag.

  He knew how she hated being reminded of the dangers of his job, but her cooperation sparked a warm pride inside him. "You're doing great, Devon. Just hang on a couple of more days. Think you can do that?"

  She turned to face him, and there was something new in her eyes, something tentative, yet determined. "Yes. As long as you're with me."

  She hadn't meant anything by that, not really. She would've said that to anyone who happened to be with her, any cop. Still, hope struggled to new life inside Mace's chest, and no matter what he told himself, he couldn't quite squash it this time.

  * * *

  Mace opened the hotel-room door, ready to load the bags into the car, when the phone rang. Not his cellular one, but the room phone.

  Devon's gaze, suddenly apprehensive, shot to his.

  Moving quickly, he grabbed the phone as it rang a second time. "Hello?"

  "Yes, Mr. Mace—I mean, Mr. Garrett?"

  He recognized the nasal twang of the hotel owner. "Mr. Corley, that you?"

  "Yessir." The man's voice was muffled, and Mace could picture him covering the receiver with his hand. "Them guys you said were coming for you? They was here. I sent 'em to Room 1 like you asked."

  "Excellent. I'm checking out now, but I'll leave the rest of your money on the television."

  "All right. That's good."

  "Thanks." Mace hung up the phone, his blood sizzling, anticipation skittering through him. "We've got to move, Dev. Now."

  "Are they here?"

  "Somebody is." Mace peered through the raspberry drapes and saw two men enter the room directly across from their's. "And it's not O'Kelly."

  "Mace?"

  "It's okay, but we've got to move fast." He turned, giving her shoulder a quick squeeze. "The car is close. I'll cover you as you get in."

  He picked up his duffel and she followed suit, grabbing her overnight bag. Opening the door a few inches, Mace plastered himself against the wall and peered around the door frame to watch the room across from his. The men hadn't turned on the lights, but he could make out vague shadows in the twilight as they moved about the room. "Come on, Dev."

  She waited beside him, her breathing heavy and low. He could feel the trembling in her arms and legs, but she didn't lean against him.

  "When I tell you, walk quickly to the car, closest side. Get in and get down."

  She nodded, her gaze meeting his in the darkness. In the dim light, her eyes were huge and frightened. With his foot, he eased open the door. "Okay."

  Just as she moved forward, one of the men appeared in the doorway of Room 1.

  "No, Devon!" Mace yanked her back inside just as a gunshot cracked the air. "Hell!"

  She stumbled against the wall, dropping her bag. "What's going on?" He knelt next to the open door, taking cover behind the wall. "Get down! They've seen us."

  She gasped, but did as he ordered, flattening herself on the floor.

  Mace peered around the door frame and saw the man who had fired moving toward their room. Another gunshot cracked the air and a bullet plowed into the door, spraying splinters and paint.

  Devon screamed. Mace aimed and squeezed the trigger. He hit the guy in the shoulder, and the man rolled to the ground, taking cover behind a late-model truck. The second man sprinted out of the room, firing. Bullets whizzed past Mace and he cursed.

  He hoped Devon was staying put like he'd told her. From the corner of his eye, he saw her crawl under the bed. Good girl, he praised silently.

  He fired at the man now running and dodging across the parking lot, taking cover behind a car, then a pickup truck, then the massive wheels of a semi.

  Mace lay on his belly, watching as the first man crawled under a truck and toward O'Kelly's car. Mace fired repeatedly at him. The guy jerked, then lay still.

  From the next room, the door slammed open. "Hey, what the hell is going on? Some people are trying to work here!"

  Mace turned, leveling his gun at a woman with bleached blond hair, smeared crimson lipstick and a filmy, sequined robe. "Police! Get back!"

  She yelped like a spanked puppy, her heavily made up eyes widening as she slammed the door.

  Mace scanned the parking lot. The guy he'd shot lay motionless, his chest a mass of red. Where was the other bastard?

  Three shots in rapid succession peppered the door above Mace's head. He fired in the direction of the gunshots, his gaze zeroing in on the source.

  He heard nothing behind him. "Dev, you okay?"

  A muffled "yes" was his answer.

  "Stay put."

  Grabbing another clip from his pocket, he popped out the empty one and shoved in the new one. The guy was behind a truck now, and darkness enveloped the parking lot. One meager floodlight, located at the back of the office, shed very little light at this distance.

  Senses screaming, Mace moved out onto the asphalt, keeping low to the ground, angling toward the truck.

  The guy popped up like a damn jack-in-the-box, getting off four shots. Mace dove under O'Kelly's car, scraping his elbow. He could only see the guy's feet, so he pumped a couple of bullets in that direction, forcing him to move.

  His other clip dug into his hip as he inched along under the car. He felt the comforting bite of his ankle holster, which held his .32 Walther. The other guy broke into a sudden run, sprinting across the parking lot toward a dark sedan. Mace fired. Bullets whizzed past him, bouncing off the car, scraping paint and screeching into brick behind him.

  More shots cracked hollowly in the twilight air. Mace glanced back, saw bullets drill into their motel door then the wall. A bullet pinged into the metal change box on the bed.

  "Devon!" Mace yelled. "Stay down!"

  He vaguely registered the sounds of screams and slamming doors, the annoying blare of a television several doors down.

  The man reached the sedan and yanked open the passenger-side door, diving inside. Mace rose to his knees, squeezing off shot after shot. The car started and peeled out of the parking lot, disappearing into the darkness.

  Mace sucked in deep gulps of air. His chest hurt and adrenaline buzzed through him. He surged to his feet and backed toward the hotel room, checking to make sure that the other man still lay motionless on the asphalt.

  He became aware of the swoosh of trucks passing on the highway, the dim blare of music, a constant squeak from the room next door.

  He slid his Glock back into his shoulder holster and stepped inside the room. The damn bed, set off by a stray bullet, rocked as if it were having a seizure.

  "Devon?" He scanned the room, but there was no sign of her. "Devon?" Getting on his knees, he peered under the bed. She wasn't there.

  He scrambled over the vibrating bed and stopped in front of the closed bathroom door. Bullet holes pocked the curling paint and his blood stopped cold in his heart. Fear slashed through him. "Devon, honey. Devon!"

  "I'm in here." She could barely get out the words. In the small bathroom, her voice seemed to boom in her ears. Though the actual shooting had stopped, she kept hearing the play of gunfire over and over and over.

  The door was pushed open and she met Mace's worried gaze. His eyes widened as he spotted the .357 Magnum trained dead center on his chest. With a groan, she lowered the gun, her arms trembling.

  He framed her face wi
th his big hands. "Are you all right?"

  "I think so."

  He took the gun and placed it on the side of the tub, then his arms closed around her and he pulled her into him. He felt warm, so safe. For a few minutes, he held her, then moved away.

  Her gaze tracked over him. "Are you all right?"

  "Yes."

  His T-shirt was ripped and dirty with grease. His jeans bore traces of dirt, but he wasn't bleeding. He was whole.

  The same longing and fierce need for reassurance that she felt fired his eyes, and for an instant she thought—hoped that he might kiss her. But he didn't. She ached for him to hold her, to cradle her in those strong arms like he had after Dad had died. To tell her everything was going to be all right.

  But she didn't make a move toward him. Instead she rubbed at her arms, prickling with goose bumps, and asked, "What happened out there?"

  "There were two of them. One's dead, one got away."

  "I can't believe this." She shoved her hair away from her eyes, fighting down the nausea that threatened. She couldn't give out on Mace now. Not after what he'd been through.

  He picked up the .357 and checked it, a grin slashing across his pale features. "Good girl. You put on the safety like I told you."

  "It was about all I could remember."

  He stared down at the gun in his hand, then looked at her. "Would you have used it?"

  "I don't know." She shuddered. "I don't ever want to find out."

  "We'd better go."

  "To the cabin?"

  "We'll see."

  He held out a hand to her, and though she longed to go into his strong arms and lay her head on his chest, she simply put her hand in his and allowed him to lead her through the door. She picked up her overnight bag for the second time that evening and followed him to the car.

  Bullet holes peppered the frame. Blue paint curled in spots down the side of the vehicle.

  "Man, O'Kelly's gonna have my hide."

  With a sickening drop of her stomach, Devon realized how closely Mace had come to being injured. Or worse.

  She turned to get into the car and spied the body of a man lying a few yards away. "Oh, my gosh."