by Lori Foster
And yeah, Woody gave her a killing glare. “Only three...until I add you two.”
Miles said in soft command, “Maxi.”
But the warning came too late. “You are such a little bitch, aren’t you? I’d thought you were a nice girl, so I hadn’t wanted to hurt you. I tried everything else I could think of to avoid this.”
Everything... “You drugged me!”
Petulant now, Woody shrugged. “Didn’t do me any good, did it? You’re still here.”
“You carried me outside.” She shuddered with revulsion. “How did you do it?”
“Meryl had given me keys. I snuck in the house a lot.”
“I knew I heard things!”
“I’d watched you enough to know your routine, so that night I put the drug in your glass. You never noticed when you poured in the wine.” He grinned. “It worked faster and better than I figured. I only had to hide for a little while. Then when you went out, I got that wagon from your barn and took you down to the pond.” He turned his head to study her. “I thought for sure that’d spook you enough to get you packing. Didn’t count on you moving in a man.”
Fletcher whispered, “You drugged her, Granddad? After what Anna had been through?”
“This was different. I didn’t do anything to her. Just put her outside. I even laid her down real gentle instead of just dumping her out of the wagon.”
Maxi stiffened. “You bastard. How dare you? You put me through hell!”
“I never hurt you...then.” Woody reacted to her antagonism with equal resentment. “Now I just might enjoy it.”
Miles growled, “You won’t hurt her, Woody.”
“I’ll do what I have to do.”
The chains rattled loudly as Miles tried to fight loose, but he quieted again when Fletcher stepped forward...and in front of him. “Tell me the plan,” he said while blocking Miles from view.
“I’m going to bury them both here.” Woody nodded as if to convince himself. “They’ve done enough digging that no one will think anything of a little more loose dirt.”
Being reasonable, Fletcher said, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. No one is going to believe she just up and moved away without selling the place.”
“Most folks will think someone else got to them. The whole town’s heard about her being hassled.”
“By you,” Maxi accused.
“Doesn’t matter. No one knows it was me. Fletcher could say he saw a truck driving away with both of you. He’s a cop, so they’d believe him.” He asked Fletcher, “You remember telling me how many missing people are never found? It’d be like that.”
Maxi watched in frustrated horror while they discussed murder as if it held no importance at all.
Fletcher nodded. “I remember, but we weren’t talking about homeowners in the area. It’s different from the idiots who’d sold dope to Anna.”
“They pushed it on her, wouldn’t let her get clean. With them around, she didn’t stand a chance.” Woody frowned. “You know that, right?”
Fletcher came a few steps closer. “Yeah, I’d had the same thought, which is why I almost beat them to death.”
Satisfied, Woody took a stance in front of Maxi. “Sometimes, there’s no other choice.”
With one big step forward, Fletcher reached his grandfather and pressed the barrel down and away. “This time, there is. We don’t have to hurt anyone.”
“You said you came to help me.”
“I did, but not like this.” Fletcher tried to ease the rifle away.
“Lies!” Woody pushed him away. “They’ve turned you against me.”
“No, Granddad.” Fletcher caught himself and came forward again. “You know that’s not possible.”
“He does love me,” Woody said...to himself? “But not enough? He doesn’t understand. I’ll make him see.”
Puzzled, Fletcher said gently, “Granddad, are you okay?”
“I have to shoot them both.”
“No.” Fletcher’s gaze never wavered from his grandfather. “That’d be too messy.”
Maxi glanced at Miles. He appeared to be holding the chain in both hands now, his expression hard, alert.
Was there more slack in that chain?
“The blood will be on the hay,” Woody argued, “and that’s easy to burn.”
“I have a better idea. Let’s talk about it.” Again Fletcher reached for the rifle.
“No!” Woody jerked it away, then slammed the stock against Fletcher’s face. “I’m done talking.” It was such a brutal hit that Maxi let out a short scream. Poor Fletcher staggered back, blood already gushing from his nose.
Woody took aim at Maxi.
He looked so dead set on shooting her, she froze.
“No.” Miles suddenly launched forward, leaving the chain and handcuffs behind.
Woody turned to face the new threat, the rifle exploded—and Maxi’s heart stopped.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“MILES!” PANICKED, MAXI jumped to her feet as he and Woody landed up against yet another support post with so much force the barn floor shook beneath her feet.
Fletcher yelled, “Don’t hurt him,” his voice garbled from blood.
Maxi pulled the gun. Breathing hard, fear squeezing her throat, she said, “Don’t,” while darting her gaze back and forth between the wrestling men and Fletcher.
Agonized, Fletcher held out a bloody hand to her. “Maxi, I’m here to help.”
“I assumed, but you’ll still stay put.” She wasn’t going to risk Miles again.
“He’s almost eighty.” He sounded choked with emotion when he repeated, “Don’t hurt him, Miles. Please.”
Miles landed one short jab against Woody’s jaw. When the older man slumped, Miles lifted his hands and Woody dropped to the ground. Staggering a bit, Miles snatched the rifle from Woody’s slack hand. Breathing hard, he faced her, his gaze going all over her. “Are you hurt?”
“No.” She didn’t move. She so badly wanted to grab him, but he looked ready to topple and she knew he had to be in pain.
He stared at her hard, as if he had trouble keeping her in focus. “You’re sure?”
Eyes damp, she nodded. “You?”
“Fine.”
No, he wasn’t, but she knew him well enough now not to say so. He glanced around, saw the chunk of wood missing in the barn wall where the rifle shot, and slowly let out a breath.
Miles could have been killed—and she didn’t know how she would have survived that. She started shaking and couldn’t stop.
“I’m sorry,” Fletcher said. The skin under his eyes had already discolored from an obviously broken nose. “I swear I didn’t know.”
Miles spared him a quick glance, then nodded. “I only hit him once, but he’s out.” Still unsteady on his feet, he retrieved his Glock from where Woody had put it. “Check him. Make sure he doesn’t have any other injuries.”
Fletcher nodded, rushing to his grandfather.
Even injured, Miles protected her, and dear God, she loved him so much it was strangling her.
Maxi realized she still had the revolver aimed at Fletcher, not that he was paying any attention to that as he knelt by his grandfather. She lowered the gun, setting it on the ground beside her.
Woody hadn’t yet come around. She honestly didn’t know which would be better, for Fletcher to lose him now, or to deal with all the ensuing criminal charges.
Miles stepped in front of her. Bracing one hand on the wall beside her head, he scoured his gaze over her as if looking for injuries.
“Not a scratch,” she whispered brokenly. “I promise.”
He appeared to be struggling, then he pulled her into his arms, crushing her tight, his face in her neck.
Her tears started. Everything added up and her knees almost gave out, she cried so hard. It was humiliating, the sobs loud and uncontrolled.
“Shh,” Miles whispered, turning so he could see Fletcher and Woody while still keeping her tight against him. “It’s okay now, babe. It’s over.”
She hated her own weakness. “Your poor head.”
He smiled against her cheek. “It’ll hurt less if you quiet down.”
The sounds of a siren approaching convinced her to get it together. After three gulping breaths, she eased away from Miles just enough to wipe the wetness from her face. She sounded completely pathetic when she said, “I need a tissue.”
Miles pulled off his shirt and offered the hem to her.
Why that made her laugh, she wasn’t sure, except that she felt close to hysterics. She mopped her cheeks, then hugged him again. He was warm and strong, and by God, he was hers. “I was so scared.”
“Me, too.” He stroked his hands over her shoulders, down her back, up to tangle in her hair.
Fletcher lifted his grandfather’s head into his lap. “I should have realized he wasn’t well. Everything that happened with Anna really hit him hard. He hasn’t been the same since. Then to lose Meryl...” He glanced at Maxi, then away. “I’m sorry.”
“Why were you here?” Miles asked.
“I’m a good cop, regardless of what you think.” His broken nose made his voice thick. “I knew you didn’t want me on it, but I couldn’t let it go. I had a feeling things were ramping up, so I was watching the house.”
“You saw Woody get here?” Maxi guessed.
“Actually, no. The rain was so thick that I’d about given up and went to Granddad’s to grab a cup of coffee—only, he wasn’t there. I don’t know why it clicked, but something made me look for his rifle. When I saw it wasn’t in the gun case, I somehow...knew.”
Maxi rested her cheek against Miles’s chest, reassured by the touch of skin on skin. “Where is your sister now?”
“She lives in Cincinnati. There were too many memories for her here.”
“She’s doing okay?” Miles asked.
“Yeah, no more drugs.”
“Good for her,” he said, surprising Maxi with his compassion.
“It’s been more than five years now and she hasn’t touched anything, not a cigarette, not a drink, definitely no drugs.” He smoothed his grandfather’s hair. “He did save her, but it was the wrong way. And this...” Fletcher shook his head. “I don’t know what to say. He had no right... He never should have...”
Neither of them could disagree with that.
When the sirens got louder, Miles picked up the revolver and put it in his pocket. “You okay?” he asked Fletcher.
“Yes. No...” He glanced up at Miles. “If only I’d realized sooner.”
“We’re damn lucky you showed up tonight. Thanks for that.”
Fletcher’s gaze skipped over Maxi. “Take care of her. And if there’s anything I can do—”
“Look after your grandpa.” Miles led Maxi out into the yard. He seemed steadier now, but she wanted him to sit down.
The rain had stopped, leaving behind mud everywhere. As she picked her way around a puddle, he said, “We need to plant some grass seed. Or maybe even lay some sod.”
Her gaze shot up to his, but he was looking at the flashing lights growing ever closer.
Did he plan to stick around long enough to lay sod? She hoped so, because she wasn’t about to let him go. She knew now that everything she’d thought was important wasn’t nearly as important as him.
“How you handled the situation...” Maxi tried to find the right words, yet nothing could adequately convey all the things she felt for him. “I’m in awe of you, Miles. And I’m so proud of you.”
“Proud?” He led her toward a patio table.
“You showed great restraint.”
“Woody’s an old man out of touch with reality. I couldn’t pulverize him.”
Yes, he could have—but he wasn’t that type of person. Even in the heat of the moment, with adrenaline pumping and rage at the forefront, he’d thought of others. “You were very understanding with Fletcher, too.”
“Don’t remind me.” As cars entered the yard, he laid down the rifle, revolver and Glock on the table, then took her with him as he backed away. “You know Fletcher passed me a key to the cuffs?”
So that was how he’d gotten free. “I saw him toss you something but didn’t know what it was.”
“He didn’t want Woody to see, so his aim wasn’t great. It took me a minute to find it in the hay. And good thing, too. I had one link nearly open enough to free myself, but I might not have managed it in time.”
“Don’t say that.” She hid her face against him, breathing in his familiar scent, wanting, needing, to get even closer.
“Okay.” His arms came around her. “As long as you don’t ever scare me like that again.”
“It wasn’t my fault.”
“That didn’t make it any easier.” He tipped up her chin. “The next few hours are going to be rough. Don’t let anyone bully you, okay? Sahara should be here soon and she’ll help.”
“You think she’ll come?”
His smile went crooked. “I’ll be shocked if she doesn’t.”
Soon headlights off several different cars lit the yard like daylight. To get their individual stories, police separated them. Just as Maxi finished telling one person, another showed up and asked all the same questions.
Miles sat at the back of an ambulance while a paramedic cleaned the gash on his head and tested him for a concussion.
His gaze constantly sought her out, but then, she had a hard time looking away from him, too. This evening could have gone so differently. What if Fletcher hadn’t shown up? What if he hadn’t had a key to the cuffs?
What if Woody had just shot Miles instead of hitting him in the head?
Every time she thought of the various scenarios, she started to shake again.
It was a relief when, half an hour later, Sahara showed up, Brand with her. It was a dark, rainy night, and yet Sahara looked as fresh as she ever did. She wore skinny jeans, a sleeveless red silk blouse and nude-colored wedge sandals. Hair up, makeup on, attitude in evidence.
Maxi couldn’t help but smile.
Sahara spoke with Miles first, even checked his head and, if she guessed right, lectured him a little. He quickly pointed her in Maxi’s direction, where she sat in a chair on the front porch, her knees drawn up, her arms folded over them. Sahara started forward with a determined stride. Brand hung back with Miles.
Both men watched Sahara go, but their interest couldn’t have been more different. Miles looked amused, and Brand looked...well, even from where she sat, Maxi saw the heat in his eyes.
When she got close, Sahara asked, “Are they still watching me?”
Fighting off a laugh, Maxi said, “Yes.”
“Good. Sit tight and I’ll be right back.” Sahara went into the house.
“Okay.” Not like she could do anything else with the chief of police now speaking to her.
“We’ll exhume the bodies as soon as possible. And don’t worry, we’ll repair any damage done.”
Maxi nodded. “Will someone be able to let me know before they get started?” It sounded ridiculous, but she said, “I have a lot of cats and—”
“I’m aware. I knew your grandmother. She was a good woman.”
“Thank you.” One thing about small towns—everyone knew everyone else.
“Why don’t you give Hank Miller a call?”
“The vet?”
“He can maybe advise you on the best way to keep the cats calm during...excavation.”
“Thank you, I will.”
The chief looked up
at the still drizzling sky. “We’ll probably have to wait until the ground dries up.” He gave her another uncomfortable glance. “Don’t want to tear up your property any more than necessary.”
So he’d leave dead bodies in the ground? Oh God, she was shaking again.
“Here you go.” Sahara breezed out as if she dealt with near-death catastrophes every day. She handed Maxi a cup of coffee with sugar and creamer, then tucked a lightweight sweater around her shoulders.
She shouldn’t have been cold, not with the thick summer night air, but she couldn’t stop shivering.
“Now.” Pulling a chair over close to sit beside her, Sahara sent off the officer with little effort, saying, “She’s already answered everything and now she needs a break. If you think of anything else, you can speak with her again tomorrow.”
Oddly enough, that worked. Maybe it was Sahara’s air of command, or the no-nonsense tone she’d used, but the chief walked off, along with two other officers, and Maxi found herself alone with Sahara.
At first she just sipped the coffee and watched Miles as he spoke with a detective. Another ambulance took Woody away. He was alive, and arguing—with himself again. Fletcher, escorted by officers, went with his grandfather.
“I’d met him,” Sahara said. “He’d seemed perfectly sane, if a little eccentric.”
“I thought he was a sweet old man.” Maxi couldn’t pull her gaze off Miles. “I believe Woody loved my grandmother. If she hadn’t died, she might have eventually married him and none of this would have happened.”
“And you wouldn’t be with Miles now.”
Leave it to Sahara to cut to the heart of it all. “I might’ve sought him out for other reasons.”
“But would he have forgiven you?” Sahara sipped her own coffee. “I think protecting you gave him the reason he needed to look past the rejection.”
“I never rejected him.” Not really. But she’d made so many dumb mistakes. “Mostly, I wanted to spare him from the craziness of my life.”
“I doubt he saw it that way.” Sahara turned thoughtful. “He won’t go to the hospital, you know. I was concerned about it, but Brand, being another fighter with plenty of experience with injuries, agrees with Miles. The split on the back of his head isn’t deep enough to need stitches. Apparently head wounds just bleed like the devil, but it’s stopped now and all patched up. Rest is all he really needs.” She tipped her head at Maxi. “Actually, he seems in better shape than you.”