by Kris Norris
Her words faded as shouts erupted outside, followed by a shot. Sawyer didn’t wait to find out who they belonged to. He grabbed the handle and yanked the door open, barrelling through as he cleared each side then jumped onto the ground, searching for any sign of Cole. Another shot rang out and he grabbed Mallory as she moved in beside him and pulled them both behind a planter.
Mallory cursed, popping up to get a look before ducking back down. “I think it’s coming in the direction of the shed, but I’m not sure. I didn’t see shit.”
“Me, either.” Sawyer checked the yard. “I’ll go on three. You cover me and when I reach the shed, I’ll cover you.”
“I’m faster.”
“Like hell you are.” He nodded at her. “On three.”
He mouthed the numbers, cleared the area then bolted, running for the shed at the rear of the yard. He saw Mallory dart out, scanning the area, but she didn’t fire, following on his heels once he’d reached the outbuilding. She rolled in behind him, brushing off the dirt as she pushed to her feet next to him. She looked as worried as he felt, and he knew if Cole had been killed, it’d be the final straw that pushed her over the edge.
He scoured the landscape, catching a hint of movement over behind a group of fruit trees. He pointed to the copse. “Someone’s over there.”
Mallory peered at the spot, her breath stalling. “Damn, it’s Cole.”
“How can you tell?”
“He always wears that stupid leather jacket. I’d know it anywhere.”
She moved to dart out when Sawyer snagged her wrist.
“It could be a trap. Someone else wearing Cole’s jacket to lure us there.”
She looked over at him. “Then I’ll blow their brains out once I get there.”
He grimaced, knowing nothing short of shooting her would stop her from going to Cole’s aid, whether he needed it or not. “Fine. You start off. I’ll cover you in case that is Cole and we still have a gunman on the loose.”
She nodded, took a deep breath then ran, covering the distance at a full sprint. She dove to the ground as she neared the trees then disappeared behind them. Sawyer searched the fence line, but nothing glared out at him. He cursed and took off running, praying he hadn’t allowed Mallory to walk into a setup as he raced across the yard, finally ducking in behind the trees. Cole had his back to one of the trunks, a line of blood dripping down his arm. Mallory had managed to get his jacket off and was busy accessing a blackened wound on his shoulder. Another body slouched against the tree next to Cole, but Sawyer could tell the woman was dead, her blank eyes staring at nothing.
Mallory knelt beside him, wadding up a piece of her shirt on the wound. She didn’t speak, just held it tight as she kept watch around them.
Sawyer went to his knees. “Guess you drew the short straw this time.”
Cole scowled, grunting as Mallory increased the pressure. “That damn gate was harder than shit to get open. Then I saw the woman as I came around the side, but when I tried to see if I could revive her, our perp popped out from behind the shed. I yelled at him to stop, but he landed a lucky shot.” He winced as Mallory added another wad, layering it on top. “I fired one back, but he’d disappeared.”
Sawyer nodded, tilting his head as sirens blared in the distance. Seemed Cole had already called for backup. “You get a good look at the guy?”
Cole’s eyes creased at the edges as a line formed across the bridge of his nose. He glanced at Mallory then sighed. “It looked like Davies—same hair, same angular nose and beady little eyes—but, shit, I can’t swear on it.”
“I’ll take your word.” Sawyer patted Cole on the leg. “Rest. Even a brute like you might run out of blood.”
Cole scoffed at him. “Not likely. It barely made a scratch.”
Mallory snorted and shook her head. “It went clean through your shoulder muscle, you big jerk. So I’d call it more than a scratch.” Mallory motioned to the dead woman beside them. “Our killer left another one inside, along with a guy. I’m betting the corpse is Thomas.”
Cole’s eyes widened and he glanced at Sawyer before looking back at Mallory. “Where did you find them?”
Mallory forced down a swallow then turned away.
Cole swore, slamming his good hand on the ground. “Fuck. The bastard did something inside, didn’t he? What did he do?”
Mallory grunted and grabbed Sawyer’s hand, placing it on the wound. “Keep the pressure on. I’ll go make sure the paramedics don’t miss the house. They sound like they’re just down the street.”
She bolted before either of them could get a word in, her back stiff as she made for the gate, constantly checking behind her, finally rounding the side of the building. Sawyer growled under his breath, trying to stem the anger welling inside him. Whoever was responsible would pay…one way or another.
Cole reached for Sawyer’s hand, drawing his attention. “What the hell did the bastard do inside, Sawyer?”
Sawyer released a slow breath. God, he was tired. Tired and angry and just too damn close to see anything but the pain on Mallory’s face. He met Cole’s gaze. “He turned Mallory’s old bedroom into a murder scene…one that I think hit a bit too close to home. My guess is the creep recreated her father’s death, only with a new twist. He left a dead woman on the bed.”
“Goddamn, son of a bitch! I knew it. I knew there was something wrong with this case the moment Fisher called us in the middle of the damn execution. I told Mal nothing good was going to come of this, and well, fuck!”
Sawyer nodded, not sure what else to say. They were constantly a step behind and if they didn’t catch a break soon, Davies might not be the only ghost they ended up chasing.
Chapter Nine
Sawyer leaned against the doorframe, watching Mallory as she sat at the living room bar, her head bowed, staring aimlessly at the top of the table. A glass of whisky loomed dangerously close, though she hadn’t done more than glance at it. They’d spent several hours at the hospital, waiting while the doctors had treated Cole. Twenty stitches and a couple of pints of blood later, the man had been taken to a room, much to Cole’s annoyance. They’d cited something about watching him for twenty-four hours, but Sawyer knew just being in that environment had taken a toll on Mallory.
He ambled in, taking a seat next to her. He didn’t talk, just sat there, his arm touching hers as she thumbed at a coaster tossed on the counter. Silence stretched out between them until she finally sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. The gentle weight triggered something inside him. She’d never allowed him to be strong for her before, and the simple act made his heart soar.
He ran a hand down her hair, loving the feel of the silky strands across his skin. “Are you sure you don’t want that whisky?”
She snorted and lifted her head, gazing at him. “Whatever happened to asking me if I was okay first?”
He shrugged. “I already know you’re not. I’m just trying to gauge how far from okay you’ve slipped.”
Her eyes softened and she gave him a hint of a smile. “Before you came back, about half a bottle’s worth. But now?” She leaned into his shoulder again. “This seems about right.”
A fluttering feeling lighted in his heart, and he wrapped one arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. Her breath feathered over his neck, the subtle breeze soothing the rawness he’d felt inside since opening the door to her old bedroom. After that experience, he’d half expected to find her rocking in the corner of their bedroom, mumbling Davies’ name over and over, and the simple statement that his presence was all she needed to stay sane more than humbled him.
He closed his eyes against the sudden sting of tears, not sure where all this emotion had come from. He wasn’t one to fall for sappy movies, or endearing sentiments, but something about the ease with which she gave herself over to him, trusting he’d keep her safe, hit home.
He smiled, holding her tight as he dropped a kiss on her hair. “Does that mean I get the whisky?”
&n
bsp; She chuckled. “Maybe I can offer you something better?”
“That sounds promising.” He paused, not wanting to break the sensuous atmosphere but aware they still needed to talk about what had happened. Silence was what had got between them before, and he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.
He took a deep breath. “Now before you rob me of every coherent thought, I think we should talk about what happened.”
Her body stiffened against his, her breath an audible rasp through her teeth. She pulled back, giving him a hardened look before standing and making her way over to the fireplace. She set her jaw, finally glancing over at him. “I think we’ve talked enough.”
“Funny, I was thinking the exact opposite.” He held up his hand as he pressed to his feet, covering the distance between them. “I realise talking about your past isn’t high on your list of pleasurable pastimes, but damn, until a week ago, I had no idea about your parents and after that hadn’t even considered that the fucking house was still standing.” He paused, gathering enough strength to finish his reasoning. “I lost you once because I didn’t have the courage to ask the difficult questions. I have no intention of repeating that.”
Tears misted her eyes as she turned away, a shudder trembling through her. He waited, knowing the choice had to be hers. The clock on the mantel ticked loudly in the quiet until she cursed and moved into his arms, resting her head in the crook of his shoulder as he folded his arms around her. She didn’t cry, just stood there, breathing heavily as her fingers clenched his shirt. He dropped kisses on the top of her head, silently willing her to break the tension, when she eased back, wiping a stray tear from her cheek.
She toed at the floor, darting her gaze between her foot and his chin. “Fine, though I don’t know what my past has to do with any of this, other than the obvious.”
“It’s like you said. This isn’t a coincidence. Someone is going to some pretty extreme lengths to push you off the sanity deep end, and I have a bad feeling it’s rooted in that night.”
She finally met his stare. “I already told you what happened. There isn’t anything else worth mentioning.”
He tried to soften his expression as he took her hands in his. “What happened after your mother killed your father? Did she try to run?”
Mallory snorted. “My mother? Run? The woman had spent over a decade playing housemaid to a man whose only redeeming quality was not killing her outright. She didn’t leave the house. Just walked into the living room and sat down on the couch, blood splattered across her clothes, the knife still dangling from her fingers. That’s how the cops found her.”
“Where were you during that time?”
Something passed through her eyes, though he couldn’t tell if it was regret or terror.
She coughed as she tried to swallow, before staring at the floor again. “During the incident, he fell on top of me on the bed. He weighed so much more than me, I couldn’t—”
“She left you there! With that fucking bastard dead on top of you?”
Mallory winced at the hatred in his voice, nodding solemnly as she continued to kick at the floor. “I called for her for I don’t know how long, but I guess she’d given me all she could. I’d managed to roll him off of me and move over to the corner of the room when the cops showed up. They said a neighbour heard me screaming, heard my father raging, and called them.” Her gaze turned slightly vacant, as if she was remembering the scene in her mind. “I didn’t see her again until I had to testify in court. I wanted to, but…the lawyers thought visiting would damage my credibility.”
“Credibility? Against your own mother?” Sawyer closed his eyes against the rush of anger. God, the story just kept getting worse. He forced his eyelids open and cupped her chin, waiting for her to look him in the eyes. “I can’t believe they made a ten-year-old testify in court.”
Somehow, she held his gaze without wincing. “Her appointed lawyer hoped it would get her sent to a psychiatric facility instead of the penitentiary. The guy claimed she had some kind of personality disorder, but it didn’t hold up in court.”
“Dear God.” He shook his head, wanting nothing more than to hold her and never let go. But there had to be something about the murder that was linked to the new killings. He brushed his finger along her jaw before letting his hand drop back to his side. “What about since then? Have you ever discussed what happened with your mother?”
Her face paled. “She hasn’t spoken a word to me since.”
Fuck. “Nothing?”
Mallory tilted her head in a way that told him everything. “I used to visit her every week. The rare times she’d actually bother to come to the window, she just sat there, staring through me. Over the years, I went less and less until I just stopped. What was the point? She couldn’t even look at me.”
Sawyer raised his hands, wrapping them gently around her shoulders. “None of this was your fault. You know that, right?”
“Wasn’t it?” She backed away, motioning for him to listen. “She never wanted kids. Never wanted to be tied to my father more than she already was. When I came along, I was just something else he could use to hurt her. When I didn’t put my toys away properly, or clean my room just right, it was another excuse for him to hit her. I grew up having my mother pay the price for me being born, for not being perfect. So yeah. I didn’t murder the bastard, but you can’t stand there and tell me I wasn’t the cause.” She lowered her head and took a shaky breath. “I know in my head that they were sick, that I was just collateral damage, but…” She met his gaze again. “It doesn’t stop the nightmares from coming or from me feeling as if I’m fighting his ghost at every turn.”
He waited for her to steady her breathing before giving her an encouraging smile. “After the way you handled yourself today, I’d say you’ve vanquished that spirit.” He moved in front of her and held out his hand. “Come on. What do you say to a warm shower and my shoulder as a pillow for the night?”
Her lips quirked into the beginnings of a smile before the bottom one trembled slightly. “You won’t let go?”
He smiled past the clenching of his heart at the broken quality to her voice. “You promise not to snore?”
The smile resurfaced. “I never snore. You, on the other hand…”
He shook his head. “Then it’s a promise.”
She took his hand, slipping in beside him and following him down the hall and through the bedroom door, tugging on his hand as he headed for the bathroom. Her eyes looked wider than normal as she glanced around the room before settling on his face. She released a long breath, as if she’d been holding it in anticipation. “I don’t want you to leave.”
Confusion raised one eyebrow as he gave her what he knew was a half-smile. “I’m pretty sure I just promised to hold you all night.”
“Not that. I mean after.”
“After?”
“When the case is over. I don’t want you to go back to Albuquerque. In fact, I don’t want to leave the house.”
Sawyer sighed and tugged her into his arms. “I don’t want to leave the house, either.” He inhaled, savouring the scent of warm woman and floral soap. “I was waiting for the right time to tell you, but I requested a transfer back here.”
She pulled away, raising her face to his. “You requested a transfer? Back here? When?”
He couldn’t contain his smile. “A couple of days ago. I wanted to know it was a viable option before mentioning it.”
“No. You wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to freak out before mentioning it.”
“That too.” He smiled at her. “And did my waiting pay off?”
Her eyes saddened for a moment, but she recovered quickly. “I told you before. I never wanted you to leave. Not then, not now.”
The weight of her statement hit home, and he realised he still hadn’t properly apologised for running off. Hell, for being a jerk.
He looked away, gathering his strength before facing her again. “I’m sorry.”
Surprise lit her expression as she stared up at him. “Sawyer, you don’t—”
“No, I do. Actually, it’s long overdue.” He tightened his hold on her hands. “I’m sorry, Mal. For rushing you, for not being the man you needed me to be. I should have begged for your forgiveness from the start, but instead, I took off, telling myself I was doing what was right…what was best. But it was a lie. The truth is, I wasn’t brave enough to face you. To face the possibility of a life without you.”
He paused, wondering what the hell she was thinking. If he was even making any sense.
He focused on her eyes, never looking away. “Leaving here allowed me to pretend there was still a chance. But the more time passed, the more I realised I’d lost any hope of getting you back. Then everything changed, and I found myself standing before you, wishing I’d never left. If I have one regret, it’s not staying to find out why you’d changed your mind. Hell, it was the least I could have done…should’ve done.”
He inched forward, praying the tears gathering in her eyes were out of love, not regret. “I can’t undo the last two years, and maybe it’s best if we don’t even try. I know I have a long way to go before earning your trust back, but if you’re willing, I’d like to spend the rest of my life trying.” He squeezed her hands once. “And maybe, when you’re ready, we could give the whole husband and wife thing another go-round.”
Mallory stared at him, her glassy eyes wide, her breath seemingly lodged in her chest. She appeared frozen until the touch of a smile curved one side of her mouth. She moved in and dropped a sweet kiss on his mouth. “I like the sound of that.”
A warm feeling spread through his chest, easing a tension he hadn’t realised had taken root. He pulled her close, wondering if they should just skip the shower and head straight to bed. After everything that had happened, he couldn’t think of a better ending than holding her close as she slept in his arms. Mallory snuggled into his chest, moulding her lithe body to his. Damn, she felt good.
She chuckled when he started to move them towards the bed and eased back, tsking as she shook a finger at him. “You said something about a warm shower, first.”