Out of the corner of her eye, River caught Brent stagger backward until he hit the wall at the end of the narrow porch.
Heart pounding, as soon as she reached the steps, River leaped onto the shorter blonde’s back. The tackle knocked Jamie down. The woman’s chin hit the porch with a thud. The jolt caused her to drop the weapon, skidding across the concrete.
Unarmed now, River took full advantage of her height and weight. Sitting on Jamie’s back, she knocked her head a couple of times into the cement for good measure. River rolled her over, pinned the still struggling woman’s arms back.
Brent righted himself enough to wobble over and pick up the weapon.
“What the hell were you thinking!” River shouted at Brent. “You could’ve been killed.”
“I’m wearing a bullet-proof vest.”
“And that makes it okay? I don’t think so. That stuff dripping down onto the porch is blood. Yours.”
“She was supposed to aim for the chest. What’s taking Garver so long to get here?”
“You’re armed and you let her get too damned close. Why? Why did you let her get that close to you?” River said, her voice still shaky, her hands still trembling in fear.
But about that time, cop cars began pulling to a stop along with the EMTs, she glanced around looking for Baker. When she didn’t see the agent in charge she groaned, “Don’t tell me he’s one of the guys lying over there in the street?”
“I’m afraid so.” Holding his right arm, he leaned up against the side of the house, tried to ignore the searing pain. He stared across the street at the ATF agents. As the paramedics rolled one over, he was relieved to see a thumbs-up sign from one of Baker’s men.
“Baker better be all right because I can’t wait to tell him what I think about his lousy idea.”
Brent grinned, decided to make light of the situation. “You would, too. Did I mention that I haven’t seen moves like that since last Thursday night’s NFL game when a defensive back took down a quarterback with the game on the line?”
“Don’t you dare try to make me laugh, Brent Cody. What you and Baker cooked up was downright ridiculous. Look at the body count.”
“And what you did just now was nothing short of amazing. You’ll probably get a medal.”
“Don’t try to butter me up. That won’t work.”
“Okay, then marry me.”
When the blonde tried to move again and bump River off, River banged her head again on the cement one more time for good measure. “I’d say that’s an excellent idea. Maybe then I can keep you out of trouble.”
About that time, Brian Driscoll, one of the med techs dashed up the steps. “What’ve we got here?”
“Treat those guys first,” Brent directed, bobbing his head across the street. “Those guys are in worse shape than I am. This is just a little scratch.”
Brian shook his head. “Yeah. Right. Then you won’t mind if I stick a Band-Aid on it.”
Brent reached around behind his back, took out a pair of handcuffs with his left hand. He dangled them in front of River. “Since you took her down, I’ll let you do the honors.”
“Gladly,” River said, snapping the metal in place around Jamie’s wrists. River yanked Jamie to her feet and yelled at Garver, “Take this worthless excuse for a human being out of my sight.”
All business, young Garver trotted over. “I think we can find a slew of charges to put her away for good. The least of which is possession of a firearm during the commission of a felony. But the feds get first dibs. According to them, she’s looking at two counts of first degree murder.”
“As long as there’s no chance for her to resurface, I don’t care which agency locks her up,” Brent said.
It wasn’t until later that night they learned that all of the agents who had been shot had successfully come through surgery. The most severely injured had been Baker. He’d been transported to Doc Prescott’s office for immediate treatment before being life-flighted over to a larger facility in Santa Cruz. They were all expected to make a full recovery.
“I wanted to yell at Baker,” River said as they got ready for bed. “I suppose now I’ll have to let him off the hook.”
“It wasn’t Baker’s idea, River.”
“What?”
“River, I had to get this behind me, behind you. We couldn’t move forward having this nutcase skulking around town, hanging around right across the street every time we left the house. Not now, not with Luke. This woman wasn’t going to give up until she’d forced the issue.” Brent shifted to put his arms around River. “How do you feel about sleeping with the chief of police tonight?”
“Right this second?”
“Yep. Effective immediately. To hell with waiting for the county to make a decision about giving me my job back. I called Murphy while you were giving Luke his bath. He agreed I could start immediately. So, it’s official.”
“There’s a lawsuit in there somewhere.”
Brent grinned. “You’re just itching to throw business Kinsey’s way, aren’t you?”
“Nah, not really, not anymore. I have Luke back. And I have you. That’s all that matters.”
“Will you continue to head out to digs? It’s okay with me if you do. I know how important your work is to you.”
“Are you serious? I wouldn’t leave my kid now if someone paid me fifty million bucks. Not to mention I recently have this hot guy in my life. Looks like you’re stuck with me. My roving days are over.”
“From where I am that’s not such a bad deal.” He kissed her hair, ran his good hand down to knead a breast.
“Besides, your dad had this idea about opening a museum in one of those old buildings across from the Marine Rescue Center. We’d take the artifacts we find out of the ground and put them on display to share with tourists, school groups, and anyone else interested in the history of the area. And you know what? It sounds crazy, but I think to keep Marcus happy, Emilio would go for it. And I’d be the curator of the whole thing, in charge of cataloguing the items, tours, that sort of thing.”
“Is that something you’d be interested in doing?”
“You bet, right up my alley.”
“You do realize Marcus suggested this because he doesn’t want you globetrotting around, right? My dad is great and all but he has this distorted sense that my woman shouldn’t go traipsing all over the world.”
She giggled. “I got that. But Marcus has nothing to worry about on that score and neither do you. I’m not going anywhere. Try to picture that big-ass canoe on display in the foyer of the newly remodeled Pelican Pointe Museum. I know I have.”
“Do we have to talk about canoes right this second?”
“I don’t know. That canoe gets me all hot and bothered, especially if I imagine you paddling your way to shore in it, coming in from a catch all hot and sweaty wearing nothing but a loin cloth and skin.”
“Then by all means, continue with that image,” he muttered, nipping at her bottom lip.
“Oh I plan to do just that,” she said as she pushed him back into the pillows to show him she meant it.
Epilogue
Four weeks later
Christmas Eve Night
Pelican Pointe, California
River stood at the kitchen table rolling out the last of the cookie dough while Luke swung his legs back and forth as he sat next to her, coloring with his crayons.
Thanks to her grandmother’s recipe that promised to make four dozen, she thought she’d have plenty on hand for any guests that might drop by. But between what Luke and Brent had already packed away, she doubted she’d have enough to share with Hayden and Ethan when they got here for the pot-luck supper they’d planned together.
She and Luke already slathered icing on two dozen assorted reindeer, Santas, Christmas trees, and snowmen and were waiting for another batch to come out of the oven. That’s why sugar, vanilla and butter smells wafted through the house in waves.
Brent walked through the back door with an arml
oad of wood for the fire.
“You know we won’t be able to build a fire tonight, right? Rumor has it Santa won’t be able to get down the chimney if there’s smoke coming out of the top.”
“Santa!” Luke yelled out, clapping his hands together.
“With the breeze blowing in off the ocean the wind chill makes it feel like forty degrees out there. A fire will make things nice and cozy. I promise it’ll go out long before Santa ever lands on the roof though,” he told Luke with a wink. He couldn’t believe how easy it had been to accept the child as his own.
As Brent moved past the table, he snaked out a hand from under the firewood hoping to score another cookie. But River slapped it away. “You eat any more and they’ll have to wheel you into Doc Prescott’s treatment room in a sugar coma.”
“I’ll take my chances. They’re too good to pass up. Aren’t they, Luke?”
“I want anover snowman, a red one dis time,” Luke prompted.
“See what you started,” River said. “We’ll be eating supper in less than an hour.”
“I wanna hotdog.”
“Not tonight, young man. We’re eating healthy. There’s yummy homemade sweet potato chips and goldfish pizzas and broccoli cheese bites for you.”
Brent rolled his eyes. “I’m taking bets on whether or not you get him to eat any of that stuff. Whaddya bet?”
“You’re probably right. Come on, Luke. Let’s go into the living room and finish putting the ornaments on the tree. Then we’ll wrap the rest of the presents before Hayden and Ethan get here. That should take your mind off cookies.”
“Why?” Luke asked.
“Because mommy’s running out of time. Help me listen for the oven timer, will you?” she asked, picking up Luke and swinging him onto her hip as she followed Brent into the living room.
“Luke, come help me hang your stocking,” Brent offered.
Setting him down, River went to retrieve the rest of the decorations from the hall closet, a roll of gift wrap, bows and tape and took it all over and dumped it near the bottom of the tree so she could spread out on the floor.
On bended knees, she handed a stocking to Brent for him to hang on the mantel. As she scooted a few of the packages out of the way to make more room, she leaned over to rearrange the boxes and spotted a gift box she didn’t recognize underneath. Picking it up, she gave it a light shake. “Brent, did you get Luke a present and not tell me?”
“Nope. You know what we agreed on.” He lowered his voice so Luke wouldn’t hear. “The little tool bench and the Tonka truck he asked for. Why?” But he was beginning to get a strange feeling in his gut as he eyed the package. “You didn’t buy that? How did it get in here then?”
“No. It was behind the tree. Look at the wrapping. It looks like old-fashioned Christmas paper from another era. See, it’s got that yellowish tint to it. And the holly wreath and berries and those candles with the crystal tops make it look vintage. There’s a card addressed to Luke.”
Brent stared at the rectangular box in her hand covered in the dated paper. “I didn’t buy that, River. That better not be ticking.”
She left her hand on the package long enough to get a more measured glimpse—from the past—and smiled at the image. “It’s okay. Wait. Luke, would you like to open an early present?”
“Is it from Santa?” Luke piped up.
“In a way it is.”
“You’re sure it’s okay?” Brent asked before helping Luke with the box. “You know who sent this?”
“I do and I’m sure it’s okay.” She watched as her son and the man she loved ripped off the old decorative wrap. Cringing a little as the pretty paper shredded into bits and pieces. She watched as it drifted down in strips on the floor around Luke’s feet.
It was Brent who first looked inside. As soon as his eyes landed on the toy, his lips curved up. He let Luke take it out of the box.
“It’s a twuck!” Luke said, immediately kneeling down to test out the wheels and run it along the hardwood in a circle.
Built from sturdy maple, painted red, white, and blue, the heirloom fire truck had been designed to be passed down from generation to generation, from father to son.
“Who did this?” Brent asked. “What does the card say?”
Unable to speak, unbelievably moved, tears streaming down her face, River handed it off to Brent to read.
From one guy to another, this truck was once mine. It was my favorite toy when I was your age. I spent many hours putting out fires with it. I hope you have as much fun as I did. Merry Christmas, Luke, you’ve earned it. Your mom and new dad have, too. Much love from your Uncle Scott. P.S. Be sure to leave out plenty of cookies and milk for Santa because he gets hungry making his rounds in the California cold.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Vickie McKeehan is the author of eleven novels and makes her home in
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