Cowboy In The Crossfire. Robin Perini
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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.