father bowed his head, a strand of graying hair slipping low over his forehead. “Yeah, Gracie, I’m afraid I do.”
So did she, and that was the tragedy of it. It didn’t matter that, like her father, she’d understood the anger that would have compelled him to do it. There had been a moment when she’d first learned what Piers had done to Hugh’s sister, after she’d witnessed the poor girl’s trauma in the hospital, that she had wanted to hurt the bastard herself. The difference was, she had too much respect for the law.
“See, another reason I have to get this resolved,” her father continued, “is because people are saying that once word gets around that he’s out, the whole place will become a ghost town...especially after sundown.”
“That’s ridiculous. Hugh loved this town and most of the people who lived here. He’s not at risk of being a repeat offender.” Unless he saw her again.
“I’m merely repeating the consensus of opinion.” Her father gave her a sidelong look. “Well? Can you handle this for me?”
The sympathy in his voice decided her. She snatched his straw cowboy hat off his in-box and slammed it on her head. “I took the oath, didn’t I? What choice do I have?”
“Atta girl. Now make sure you tell him that I’m not asking for him to get lost overnight. All we need is some assurance that he will leave. Soon.”
Taylor handed over her keys and picked up his from his desk blotter. “When I get to the house, I’d better find you stretched out on the couch with that leg up, and holding a cold beer.”
“Can’t have any. Doc’s got me on damned pain pills,” her father replied as she reached for the doorknob.
“Not for you. For me.”
By the time Taylor made a right onto Main Street, her stomach was churning and cramping. If it wasn’t for Kyle, she knew she could easily have made a U-turn and directed the old Chevy for the interstate, she felt that much the coward.
Hugh. Heaven help her. Until minutes ago, she’d believed she would never see him again; she had buried the dreams she’d once cherished for their future. The news that he had gained his freedom should have sent her shouting with joy and relief...only, thanks to her father’s explanation, there was nothing to celebrate, and everything to dread.
Somehow she had to keep her wits about her, do what she’d been hired to do. The past couldn’t be allowed to matter. Nothing else could matter.
It was barely a mile drive to Blackstone Feed and Supplies. A left turn at Crooked Pine Road and she saw the metal building. The plywood doors of the warehouse were wide open, and as she pulled into the dirt-and-gravel parking lot she saw a silhouette of someone moving around in there. She drew in a deep breath to ease the growing discomfort in her stomach, killed the truck’s engine and climbed out.
He was restacking fifty-pound sacks of range cubes. A quick glance to her left and right to make sure no one else was around told her that her father had been correct; this was a modest operation. There wasn’t so much as a forklift to help with the lifting and hauling, nor was there that much inventory. However, as she got closer, she could see powerful muscles flexing and stretching across Hugh’s bronzed back, and realized that he wouldn’t have needed any help if the business had been larger. But then, he’d always been capable.
She didn’t like that her mouth went dry again. After fourteen years, she expected more from herself, regardless of their history. On the other hand, theirs was some history.
She had been the one for him, the only one who ever knew the feel of that strong, magnificent body against hers, and those callused yet gentle hands exploring and claiming. From the day they’d met as kids, back when their relationship had been about kinship and understanding, through the sweet, sweet years of discovering love, then passion...all the way to the moment the court bailiffs escorted him away, there had never been anyone else for either of them. That was a huge stack of memories for a woman to repress, even a woman with a profession like hers.
When she’d pulled up, he had glanced over his shoulder and recognized the truck, but he finished stacking the last two sacks before he faced her. Only now did she realize he’d been expecting her father. It was there in the way he suddenly froze. Because of where she was standing, she supposed she was little more than a silhouette against the blinding New Mexico sun. But apparently there was nothing wrong with his memory.
Finally, slowly, he began to walk toward her.
“How the hell did he get you to come back?”
She thought of potential replies. Since they would all require a strength and control she didn’t possess quite yet, she simply said, “It’s good to see you, Hugh.”
He stepped closer, so close she could smell salt, heat and man. Suddenly it all came back—the way he kissed, the care he took undressing her, how it felt to hold him deep, deep inside her. The memories struck like one tidal wave after another, until she wanted to slump to the concrete floor and weep for dreams and innocence lost. But somehow she remained upright, and met his furious scowl.
He glared at her badge and read her T-shirt. Sort of. Mostly his gaze raked up and down her, and she concluded years of incarceration had changed his tastes. No doubt he now thought her about as appealing as a telephone pole. It was only a guess, though; his sharp black eyes gave nothing away.
He finally settled his focus on her gun. “Is that supposed to be some kind of joke?”
“No. I just haven’t had time to change into my uniform yet.”
“So that’s why you’re here. Funny how social calls mean different things these days.”
“Please, Hugh.” She saw no point in hiding the weariness in her voice. “I didn’t know you were here until fifteen minutes ago. I’ve only been back in town for about twenty myself.”
She hoped he could find it within himself to ignore the badge and gun, as she wanted to. If only she could reach him on the level she once did. As once no one else could. How furious she was with her father for taking advantage of their past.
“This is no place for you.” Bitterness and defeat chilled his words. “It’s not going to be a pretty homecoming.”
“Yes, well...I don’t know about pretty, but one thing it isn’t going to be is violent.”
“You think that badge and gun will stop the inevitable?”
He was starting to sound as though he was heading for the gunfight at the O.K. Corral or something. She needed to try another approach. “Regardless of what you think, Hugh...I’m glad you’re out.”
“Then you’re one of the few.”
“That’s not what I heard.”
“Isn’t it?”
His piercing, unrelenting gaze threatened to turn her into a coward. She suspected a scorpion sting would feel friendlier. On the other hand, he had a legitimate reason for the attitude. “We need to talk.”
Once again he considered her badge and the gun. “While you’re wearing that
