Cowboy In The Crossfire

by Robin Perini

  So much for the fairy tale. She lifted her chin and swiped at her hair. "Vince is dead."

  The muscle of his jaw throbbed briefly. The only sign he cared at all.

  "Aren't you going to say anything? He was your best friend."

  "Best friend?" Blake crossed his arms, his expression grim. "Really? Is that what he was when he sold me out? When he didn't show up for my son's funeral?"

  "He didn't think you'd want him there."

  "He was right."

  Amanda rubbed her hands over her eyes to keep from looking into his perceptive gaze. He'd recognize the guilt, the secret knowledge. "There was never any proof Vince gave Internal Affairs evidence against you."

  "Only one person could've set me up to take the fall. Vince. You can lie to yourself, but don't lie to me. I've had enough of that to last a lifetime." Blake leaned over the bed, crowding her. She shrank back against the sheets.

  "Don't hurt my mommy!"

  Ethan launched across the room, the dog racing after him. The boy grabbed Blake around the legs and started pounding at him. The sight of her usually gentle son taking all his anger and fear out on Blake savaged Amanda's soul. Would he ever be the same after what he'd seen? She shoved off the bed as Blake stopped and calmly grasped Ethan's arms.

  "I don't hurt people, son. I'm a policeman."

  Ethan wrenched away. "Policemen are bad. Police made Uncle Vince dead."

  Chapter Two

  Cops killed Vince?

  Blake dropped his hands, and Ethan dived into his mother's arms. Amanda winced but hugged him close, murmuring words of comfort. Her wound had to be hurting like the devil, but she simply stroked Ethan's head, rocking him to and fro. The only sign of pain was the tightness around her mouth and the color draining from her face. Incredible. The love that shone there twisted something inside Blake, touched some hidden place that needed to stay protected.

  "It's okay, little man," she whispered. "I'll keep us safe. I promise."

  She had more courage than Vince ever did. Blake had tried to convince his friend to work together to investigate and take down the dirty cops. Vince had done the opposite. He'd jumped in headfirst with the enemy, then helped set up Blake to take the fall for missing evidence and confiscated money from several drug busts.

  Ethan's sobs turned to hiccups. Blake's jaw ached as he tried to contain his fury. Vince's cowardice had dragged that innocent boy into God knows what.

  Ethan, nestled against Amanda's chest and clearly exhausted, fell asleep in only a few minutes. She kissed the top of his head and tried to stand. She trembled and swayed.

  Blake wanted to punch his fist through the wall. He'd traumatized the boy even more. His stomach churned at the thought, acid hitting the back of his throat. He gulped down the guilt and reached out to steady her with a gentle touch. "I'll take Ethan."

  Her hold tightened. She didn't trust anyone else with him. He got that, but he also knew her legs quivered underneath her. She was near collapse. He stilled, waiting patiently, his arms open. Finally, as if her energy left her, she nodded. Blake lifted the sleeping boy. The actions, the familiar, precious weight of his little body poked at the empty ache inside of Blake. The boy snuggled closer, and Blake's throat closed off at the swell of emotions. Ethan was vulnerable and trusting enough in sleep to let a stranger hold him. A child's faith.

  The dog at his heels, Blake carried Amanda's son down the hall and tucked him beneath the covers. His gaze lingered on Ethan's tear-stained cheeks. Blake knotted his hands into fists. No child deserved to face this kind of fear. He hated that Ethan feared law enforcement--the people he should trust.

  Leo whined and Blake gave the dog a nod. The mutt jumped onto the bed and settled next to Ethan. The boy would be okay, but Blake needed answers from Amanda. She was keeping secrets. He couldn't allow that. Ethan wasn't going to feel unsafe. Not on Blake's watch.

  He stalked out of the room and grabbed the door, ready to slam it, then stopped himself. Softly, he eased it shut, strode through the doorway and closed him and Amanda into the guest bedroom. "No more games. Is what Ethan said true?"

  "Why do you think I never went to a hospital? Vince was murdered. By a cop."

  "I figured that one out."

  As many times as Blake had cursed his former best friend for being a low-down, belly-crawling coward, he hadn't wanted him dead. Nailed for bribery. Definitely. Confessing to the police area commander how Vince had framed Blake. Most assuredly.

  But not dead.

  Blake crossed his arms and ignored the fatigue and vulnerability in her eyes. He wouldn't let himself get sucked in. He had to protect Ethan. "Who did it?"

  "I don't know." Amanda shifted her focus toward the door. "I should go to him."

  Her gaze flickered left, and she twirled a strand of her curly hair. Vince had joked about the obvious tell. He'd warned Blake if he ever played poker with Amanda, twisting her hair was a sure sign of a bluff.

  "Your brother lied to me every damn day the last six months I was in Austin. I've learned how to spot deceit, so don't bother trying it." Her pretty mouth opened slightly in surprise, and he let out a harsh laugh. "Yeah, I can see your wheels turning. I may be a small-town sheriff now, but I've still got big-city instincts."

  "I'm not lying."

  He eased toward her. "Fine. Keep your secrets. As soon as this storm ends, you can fight your own battles." He paused. "Without Ethan in the middle of them. He'll stay with me."

  "You have no right--"

  "I do if I think your son's in danger." He leaned back against the dressing table. "Did you get in the middle of one of Vince's dirty deals? Is that how you got shot?"

  "Take that back." She jumped to her feet, then doubled over with a whimper. Her knees buckled, and she sagged to the floor.

  Blake cursed and reached for her. He'd have thought she was feigning pain to distract him except her face had turned a scary shade of gray. He didn't want to hurt her. He wanted her to tell him the truth. To give him the information he needed to protect them both. No matter what trouble she'd gotten into, she didn't deserve this. Neither did Ethan.

  "Don't touch me." She scooted away from him.

  "Shut up. You're hurt, and you've lost a lot of blood. Get up too fast and you'll keel over every time."

  He took one step, swept her into his arms and strode to the bed, pretending to ignore the blue-and-silver sweatshirt that slid down one shoulder and the bare skin of her legs against his arm. Gently, he laid her down and tucked a pillow behind her. He dragged a chair over and straddled it. "I can see you love Ethan, but you can't protect him."

  "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

  She was silent. Blake met her gaze, his own steady and resolute. He could see her wavering and leaned forward. "You came here for a reason, Amanda. Let me help you."

  She rubbed her eyes with her hands and sighed in defeat. "Vince's last words were to Ethan. He said to come to you."

  "That doesn't make sense. We haven't spoken since my father was killed and I left Austin. Why would he send you to me?"

  "He always said you were the most honest cop he knew."

  "He had a hell of a way of showing it." Blake stood and paced the bedroom floor.

  "I didn't see the point in coming here. Maybe I was right. You hate Vince, but..." She shifted and her mouth twitched in pain, but she didn't complain, didn't say a word. "I was shot. If anything happened to me--" Her voice choked.

  "Ethan would be alone," Blake finished. The fatigue, the fear, the pain had started to get to her. He could see it in her eyes. Blake sat on the side of the bed. "Then why won't you let me help?"

  She pressed her hand to her side. "I'm alive. Tomorrow we'll leave, start a new life. It's the only way to be certain we're safe."

  The crackling of the police radio in the other room made her jump. She clasped his arm. "Please, don't tell anyone we're here. I'm begging you. I'll do anything. Just don't give us away."

  Blake removed her hand from
his sweater. "Stay here," he muttered. He walked out of the room and down the hall, torn between duty and justice. Hell of it was, he understood. He would've done whatever it took to save Joey. Even his ex-wife, Kathy. He'd been called into the station for yet another Internal Affairs interview the afternoon of the accident. Kathy had picked up Joey from preschool instead of Blake. Maybe if he'd been in the car, with his reflexes, his training, he could have avoided the accident. Or at least made sure Joey survived... If Blake could have saved them, he would've sacrificed himself.

  Slow but determined footsteps followed him down the hall. Not surprising. Amanda wouldn't leave anything to chance. Not when it came to her son. He got that.

  He tried to ignore the fact she didn't trust him. The truth chafed, but he didn't trust her, either. She knew more than she was telling. He could feel it.

  "Sheriff?" His deputy's voice crackled through the living room. "Parris checking in."

  Blake picked up the microphone. "Donna make it home?"

  "Kicking and screaming." The older man chuckled. "Muttering about being on stand-by. She hasn't changed since your dad and I caught her staying all night at the station during that tornado warning fifteen years ago."

  "Streets still clear? No one traveling in this mess?"

  "Hank Stratton tried to make it to Charlie's Bar, but he slid down the driveway and crawled home. I told his wife to steal his boots. Should keep him from wandering outside. Other than that, the whole town's dead."

  Blake slid a sidelong glance at Amanda, his pause longer than usual. "Could you check on my mom?"

  There was silence on the radio. "You want me to check on her? You okay, Blake?"

  "Keep your radio with you in case of emergencies."

  "Are you serious? You're staying in?"

  "I'm not patrolling tonight." Blake watched as Amanda teetered and swayed. She grabbed the table for support just as he wrapped his arm around her, careful to avoid her injury. Her slight frame leaned into him. He felt every curve pressing against him in a way he'd only imagined before now. His body tingled with awareness, his senses sharpened at her vulnerability. She needed him whether she knew it or not. "Keep me posted."

  "Hell has officially frozen over. Parris out."

  Blake set the radio down, and Amanda let out a relieved breath as he held her to his side, their closeness fanning the shimmering heat he couldn't deny. He gave her a sharp look. "Surprised I didn't have Parris run a check on you?"

  "Frankly, yes."

  "I don't lie, Amanda."

  "Yeah, well, I've been burned more than once." She tried to straighten but winced, her left hand pressing against her bandage.

  Amanda tugged away from him and planted her legs firmly. He could see she used every ounce of strength to stand and face him.

  "Thank you for what you've done," she said. "When morning comes, we'll be out of your town and your life." She slowly turned, and with careful steps, walked into her bedroom, emerging a few seconds later with a pillow and small throw. She disappeared into Ethan's room without looking back.

  At the soft click of the door, Blake sighed. He could still feel the imprint of her body against his. She might act brave, but she'd clung to him, and in doing so she'd ignited desire in his gut. A flame he'd thought had been doused for good. Apparently he'd been mistaken.

  Pushing the tempting thoughts aside, Blake grabbed a cup of coffee and walked to his office. An internet search on Vince was definitely in order. Blake had been blinded by his anger toward his ex-partner, but he couldn't deny the truth of the current situation. Vince was dead. Amanda had been shot. Her son was at risk. Cops were involved, and not in a good way.

  He wouldn't let her vanish with all those nonanswers she'd tried to pass off. He had his own unfinished business in Austin. If Vince had sent Amanda to him, there had to be a connection between the attack and his being drummed out of the Austin Police Department. Somewhere deep inside, he still wanted to believe he hadn't been completely wrong about Vince.

  Blake booted the computer and typed his ex-partner's name into the search engine. He would discover the truth and protect Amanda and her son, whether she wanted his help or not.

  * * *

  AMANDA WOKE TO SUNLIGHT streaming through the slats in the room where Blake had bandaged her, not on the floor next to Ethan. She remembered shivering beside her son's bed, knowing she couldn't leave him alone except to throw his blood-soaked jeans in the washer. He'd hardly had any sleep since they left Austin. Each time she'd thought he'd rest for more than an hour, he'd jerked awake, screaming for Vince. Begging the bad cop to go away.

  That's how she'd learned what really happened. That's why she'd veered from a trip to the hospital. She'd pressed her son to tell her more, but Ethan refused to say a word about what he'd seen. Except in his dreams.

  And last night she hadn't been there for him.

  She covered her eyes with her forearm. Blake must have moved her last night. But what about Ethan? She lay there for a few seconds, listening for his cries.

  Not a sound.

  She didn't like the quiet. Not one bit.

  Amanda threw off the blankets piled on top of her and tried to sit up. Pain stabbed at her side. She groaned but didn't surrender to it. She could handle anything as long as she knew Ethan was safe. Holding her torso stiff, she opened her bedroom door and hurried into the next room, her bare feet cold on the hardwood floors.

  Amanda nearly tripped over a rocking chair that hadn't been in the room last night. Ethan's clean jeans were folded neatly on the dresser. An afghan was placed in perfect order on the seat. A coffee cup sat on a coaster near the chair. Ethan lay huddled beneath a thick quilt.

  He was safe. And asleep.

  He clutched a small, much-worn teddy bear in the crook of his arm. Amanda blinked away tears at the sight of her son clinging to the toy. They'd had no time to bring anything with them. She'd taken him away from everything he knew and loved. And Blake had provided Ethan a small bit of childhood to hold.

  She had no doubt Blake had watched over Ethan after putting her to bed last night. The nightmares must have come. Again.

  And she hadn't heard them. Blake had.

  Slowly, she walked back to her bedroom to dress. God, how had this happened? All she'd wanted for Ethan was a good life, for him to feel safe and protected.

  She wished she could ask Blake for help. Her heart had gone pitter-patter the few times he'd smiled. When he'd held her in his arms last night, he'd made her feel small, but not vulnerable. Only protected. For a second, she'd wanted to lean her head against him and forget the danger. But she had no choice. She had to hide the car she'd stolen and vanish under the radar. She couldn't ask a sheriff to break the law for her. Especially one who had been through what Blake had.

  Amanda left the bedroom and headed toward the kitchen. Keeping as quiet as possible, she opened the door and stepped onto the porch. The sun's brightness made the ice sparkle like glistening diamonds. The place looked like a winter wonderland. One thing about West Texas, if you wanted the weather to change, all you had to do was wait a minute.

  The ditch to her right wasn't deep, but last night it might just as well have been the Grand Canyon. She shivered. She could have easily frozen to death.

  She followed the line of the driveway as it curved in front of the small barn. Where had the car landed? She remembered hitting the brakes and skidding. Then little else. Shoving her hands into her pockets, Amanda crossed the yard and stared in disbelief at the scars marring the ice-covered snow on the road.

  The car was gone.

  She whirled around and ran into a wall of muscle.

  Blake clasped her shoulders to steady her. "In a hurry?"

  "Where's the car?" Oh, God. That beat-up station wagon was the only way out of town and into oblivion. Her hands trembled. Her money. The gun. Gone.

  "Amanda." Blake shook her gently. "What's wrong with you?"

  "Where. Is. The. Car?" She tried to keep the panic out
of her voice, but she couldn't stop it from quivering.

  "Scooter towed it to his garage. It's probably totaled."

  "This can't be happening." Amanda's legs wobbled beneath her. What was she going to do? "Please tell me it's drivable."

  "Your suspension is damaged. The tire was practically bent underneath."

  "How much to fix it?"

  "At least a thousand. Maybe more."

  Amanda swayed. She could have crumpled into a heap on the snow and cried. She needed that car. But she had only a couple hundred in her purse.

  Her purse. Her ID. Panic vibrated through her body. She had a vague memory of grabbing the bag as she stumbled out of the car, but had she? If the Austin cops found the car... "I've got to get Ethan. We have to go."

  She started to run to the house, but her feet slipped on the ice, and she landed hard on her backside. The fall jarred her ribs. Fire seared through her. She doubled over and clutched at the wound, rocking to and fro. She couldn't stop the moans.

  How could she protect her son like this?

  Blake knelt beside her and pulled her into his arms. "Whoa, there. Take it easy. You're trying to foul up my bandage again."

  She shoved herself to her feet, barely able to stand the burning at her side. She teetered, fighting against the spots dancing in front of her eyes. She couldn't pass out. "We have to disappear. He'll find us."

  "Who's looking for you, Amanda?" He clasped her arms and spun her around to face him, his Stetson not shielding the intensity of his gaze.

  "I don't know. And that's no lie. Some guy outside Vince's house shot me. He came after us. He won't stop. I know it. I have to get us out of here."

  "I did a little research. There's no news of Vince being killed. Anywhere."

  Amanda dug her fingers into Blake's arm. "Please tell me you didn't call Austin."

  Before he could answer, she wrenched away, struggled up the front steps and stumbled through the door. Blake followed, hovering beside her like an overprotective guardian. She knew he wouldn't give up, but he'd have to. She'd beg, borrow or steal some money. Pay him back later. Somehow. Ethan's room drew her gaze. The door stood open.