Lawless

by Diana Palmer

  It wasn’t true. He wasn’t disgusted. He lay awake nights remembering the passion they’d shared. He missed her. It was like being without an arm or a leg. He’d told her he didn’t want anything permanent. Now the choice might not be his anymore. He might be left alone, as he’d thought he wanted to be when he told her he was getting the divorce.

  Somewhere he remembered an old adage. Be careful what you want; you might get it. He looked at Christabel’s still body and saw the end of everything he loved.

  A noise caught his attention. Grier was back. He sat down in the pew beside him, looking uncomfortable.

  “God’s ticked at me,” he told Judd on an audible sigh as he looked around him. “Maybe I’m jinxing her by being in a chapel at all.”

  “God isn’t vindictive,” Judd replied heavily. “Usually He gives us a lot more leeway than we deserve.”

  “Your father was a minister, Crissy said,” he commented.

  Judd nodded.

  “Shooting John Clark was harder on you than you expected,” he replied quietly.

  Judd glanced at him curiously. “Because my father was a minister?”

  “Because you were taught to believe that killing is always wrong.” Grier’s eyes went to the pulpit. “I wasn’t. The first thing you learn in the military is the necessity of killing, and how to do it with maximum efficiency. Men won’t kill another man close up unless they’re taught to do it through muscle reflex. After a few weeks of training, killing is instinctive. I was a good student,” he added, his voice cold in the silence.

  Judd’s eyes narrowed. “It doesn’t bother you?”

  “It didn’t. Until I got mixed up with her,” he added, smiling faintly. “She was the first woman in years who didn’t look at me and see a killer. She has this annoying way of making you feel important, necessary, useful. She made me feel good just by smiling at me.”

  Judd hated hearing that from his rival. “She’s always been like that,” he commented after a minute. “No matter how bad things get, she’s always got a smile.”

  “She made me think I could fit in here, if I tried,” he replied. “I’ve never wanted to belong anywhere in my life until now.”

  Judd stared at the other man with narrowed eyes. “I appreciate your company. But you’d better know that if she lives, she’s never getting that divorce,” he said abruptly.

  Cash stared back. “You won’t fool her with pity,” he returned. “She’ll see right through it.”

  Judd averted his gaze. He wasn’t willing to share his deepest feelings with his only rival. “The only person I feel sorry for right now is myself. I’m the idiot who was supposed to be protecting her. How the hell did she get shot?” he asked suddenly. “I know he wasn’t trying to kill her. She didn’t shoot his damned brother!”

  Cash hesitated, studying his hands. He couldn’t tell Judd what he knew. Not yet. Not until they were sure she was going to live.

  “It will all come out eventually,” Cash said noncommittally.

  He put his face in his hands with a long, unsteady sigh. “I’d give anything to go back and put things right,” he said enigmatically.

  “You, and the rest of us,” Cash said philosophically.

  * * *

  It was a long night. The next morning a bleary-eyed Judd walked into the intensive care unit with a long face and a heavy heart. Christabel lay just as he’d seen her before. There was a new drip running, but her expression was as dead as it had been.

  He leaned down, brushing the hair away from her face. He winced at just the sight of her. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “So sorry, honey.”

  Her long eyelashes twitched and her dark eyes opened. Her breathing was still raspy, and she looked like death on a warming plate. But she seemed to see him.

  “Christabel?” he whispered.

  Her eyes fixed on his face, but she didn’t react.

  “Can you hear me, baby?” he asked softly.

  She frowned and winced. “Hurts,” she whispered hoarsely.

  His big hand trembled as it smoothed her hair, her face. “Thank God you’re still alive,” he said, his voice breaking despite his steely control. He bent and brushed his lips over her dry mouth. “Thank God, thank God, thank God!” he groaned.

  She blinked. She was barely aware of anything except the pain. “Hurts so much,” she breathed and her eyes closed again.

  He let go of her reluctantly and pushed the nurse’s call button to tell her that Christabel was awake and in pain. Seconds later, a nurse breezed in, followed by a technician, and he was chased out with reassuring smiles. She was going to live. This was the hopeful sign they’d all been waiting for.

  Coltrain nodded in passing as he went in to check her. He came back out scant minutes later smiling. “She’s going to be fine,” he told Judd, clapping him on the shoulder. “It’s just a matter of time, now. You can stop holding your breath.”

  Judd thanked him and then went down the hall and leaned against the wall trying to compose himself. He’d been in hell for so long that the relief was devastating. She would live. She was going to live. He brushed away the quick moisture in his eyes.

  Cash came up beside him, a question in his eyes.

  “She’s going to make it,” Judd said huskily.

  “Thank God,” Cash said with heartfelt relief.

  “What about Clark?” he asked suddenly, having only just remembered the man.

  “Patched up and in jail, probably for the rest of his life after the trial,” Cash assured him. He was watching the other man closely. “I think you should know what Tippy told me,” he added, hating to reveal it even now. It meant an end to all his own hopes.

  “Yes?” Judd prompted.

  “She saw Clark step out and aim the gun at you. She didn’t have time to react, and neither did Crissy. She said Crissy realized you wouldn’t be able to save yourself, and she deliberately stepped out in front of the gun.”

  Judd’s intake of breath was audible.

  “Tippy was devastated when she saw it,” he continued. “She said she felt ten kinds of a fool for the trouble she’d caused between the two of you, when she knew how much Crissy cared.” He shook his head. “I wouldn’t have told you if Crissy had died. But you should know. I’ll go call Maude and give her the good news.”

  He turned and walked away. Judd stood there like a statue, absorbing the statement with a feeling of utter humility. Christabel had taken the bullet meant for him. She’d been willing to give her own life to save him. He’d never dreamed she cared so much. He was absolutely without words. Now he had to find a way to rebuild the bridges he’d burned. It wasn’t going to be easy.

  * * *

  Christabel drifted in and out of consciousness for the first few days after her body began the slow process of recovery from the wound, which had cost her part of the lower lobe of her lung and a piece of her spleen as well. Fortunately the bullet was in the destroyed tissue which had to be removed to stop the bleeding.

  She was moved into a semi-private room on the fourth day. After that, Judd never left her side. His second shooting in two weeks had landed him under administrative leave yet again, but he didn’t care. It was opportune. His captain and his lieutenant had phoned twice already to check on Christabel’s status. He had good co-workers. One of them from San Antonio was assigned to take his place temporarily in Victoria while Christabel recuperated from her wounds. Ranch business had to be attended to as well, even though Judd hated the time he was required to spend away from her taking care of it. He delegated as much as he could to their foreman, Nick.

  Grier was also a constant visitor, but he was oddly subdued and kept well in the background. Marc Brannon and his wife, Josette, heard about the tragedy and came by to offer support. So did a lot of other prominent citizens. Tippy Moore al
so came by after work to check on the patient, bringing Maude with her. The actress had surprised a lot of people with her compassion, most notably Grier. He was an unintentional eavesdropper on a conversation she had on her cell phone. At first he thought she was talking to a man, because her voice was soft and full of affection. Then she mentioned tests and grades and keeping out of fights with other boys, and he realized she was speaking to a child. It turned out to be her young brother, in a military school. She confessed it with odd reserve and then walked away before Grier could question her any more.

  When there were no visitors, Christabel was reserved with Judd. She didn’t look him in the eye ever. She smiled when Grier and Maude came and managed to converse with them, even though she was frightfully weak. She was polite, if distant, with Tippy. But she was visibly uncomfortable with Judd.

  “You should go back to work,” she told him one morning when the nurse’s aide got her up and into a chair while her bed was remade. “I’m only going to be in here for a few more days, the doctor says. Nick can handle things at home. I’m out of danger.”

  Judd, bare-headed and quiet, didn’t answer her. He watched the aide change the bed and refill the ice pitcher without visible reaction. The aide finished, helped Christabel back into bed, smiled shyly at Judd, and left, closing the door behind her.

  Judd still hadn’t spoken. He moved to her bedside and looked down at her broodingly. Her hair needed washing. It was tangled and limp. Her weakness was evident, and she moved with difficulty because her lungs were only beginning to heal from the double peril of a bullet wound and bronchitis. She was winded just from getting up out of the chair and back into bed. But to Judd, who’d watched her in anguish from the time she came out of the anesthetic until now, she was beautiful.

  “You’ll lose your job and it will be my fault,” she persisted.

  “I won’t lose it. I have permission to be here.” He lifted her left hand and rubbed his thumb over the signet ring she’d given back to him two months ago. He’d replaced it on her ring finger while she was still unconscious. “You gave us all a scare,” he added solemnly.

  She moved her finger experimentally, only just realizing the ring was back. “How did that get there?” she asked drowsily.

  “I put it there,” he replied quietly. “We’re still married. I had to sign you in under your legal name.”

  She averted her eyes and tugged her hand away from his. “That must have shocked Miss Moore,” she said very dully. “I hope she’s willing to wait until we can get divorced.”

  He drew in a short breath and rammed his hands into his pockets. “Let’s see about getting you well and back on your feet before we talk about that.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “Why wait?”

  He turned away, frowning. Inspiration came as he studied the painting on the wall. It looked vaguely Japanese. “You’re forgetting the business trip to Japan, aren’t you?” he murmured. “We wouldn’t want to upset the negotiations at this stage by presenting a divided front, would we?”

  “It shouldn’t affect the negotiations,” she replied, but she didn’t sound convincing.

  He turned and studied her slight form under the sheet. “Let’s not take chances, just the same.”

  She frowned, but she didn’t argue. “Whatever you want to do is fine with me,” she replied after a minute. “But you may have to go to Japan alone. I don’t know that I’ll be up to it.”

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” he said. He moved back to the bed, his face drawn and taut with worry and lack of sleep. He reached down and touched her face lightly with his fingertips. “You’re a little better today.”

  “It’s slow,” she replied.

  His thumb rubbed slowly, softly, over her full mouth. It excited him to remember its ardent response on Christmas Eve. He had so many regrets. He could hardly find room for them all in his conscience.

  “You don’t sleep well, do you, honey?” he asked with some concern. “There are dark circles under your eyes.”

  She laughed without humor. “If I could get out of this bed, Jack Clark would have a few dark circles under his eyes, too, but they wouldn’t be from lack of sleep!”

  “He’ll go away for a long time,” he said curtly.

  Her dark eyes sought his. “Cash said you tried to attack him.”

  His gaze moved to the far wall. “I didn’t even realize you were shot until Cash turned you over and we saw the blood. We thought you’d fainted until then.”

  “I don’t faint,” she remarked drowsily. She sighed and closed her eyes wearily.

  “You brave little idiot,” he bit off, moving closer to the bed. “Why didn’t you just sing out?”

  “He had you right in his sights,” she said involuntarily. “There wasn’t time to shout a warning. By the time I spotted him, he was already pulling the trigger.”

  “Christabel, how do you think I’d feel if you’d died?” he asked bluntly. “Do you think I could have lived with knowing that you bought my life with your own?”

  She barely heard him. She was so tired. “Couldn’t...let him...kill you.”

  He bent with a groan and pressed his lips hard to her forehead. “Listen, there’s something I need to tell you,” he began.

  “No, there’s not,” she murmured. “It was my choice. I made it. You’ve taken care of me for five years, Judd. It was my turn to take care of you.”

  He couldn’t bear the pain of remembering how she’d looked just after the bullet hit her. He bent and drew his mouth tenderly over her dry lips, savoring their warmth in a tense silence.

  “Don’t,” she moaned, putting her hand against his mouth. “Don’t, please! I don’t want to mess up your life any more than I already have. You don’t owe me a thing.”

  He kissed her palm hungrily. “You don’t understand.”

  Her eyes opened and looked up into his. “Sure I do,” she whispered wearily. “You feel guilty for what you told Tippy about how I embarrassed you. Then I got shot and you’re trying to sacrifice yourself to make amends. It isn’t necessary. You can take this ring back. I’ll give you a divorce...”

  He caught her hand, preventing her from removing the ring. But coping with her suspicions was harder than he’d realized it might be. She wasn’t going to listen to reason. She thought he was lying out of guilt and pity.

  “You might lose her if you wait too long,” she continued, her voice trailing off as she drifted in and out, on the verge of falling asleep.

  “I’ve already waited too long,” he bit off, hating the lump in his throat that he couldn’t seem to lose, his eyes intent and tortured on her pale face.

  But she didn’t hear him. She was asleep.

  * * *

  Soon after they brought her home from the hospital, Christabel was struggling around the house trying to cook. Once Maude escorted her back to bed. The next day, Judd carried her there, tight-lipped and unresponsive to her protests.

  “I can’t just lie around here like a lump, I’ll never get well,” she raged when he started to put her back into bed. “Copper said I had to exercise!”

  “A little at a time, and not the way you’re trying to do it,” he retorted curtly. He put her down against the pillows and glared down at her. She’d had a shower and washed her hair, with Maude’s help, and she looked infinitely better than she had days earlier.

  “All right, I’ll stay put,” she muttered, averting her eyes. “You should be spending time with Miss Moore. They’re wrapping the film Friday and then they’ll be gone.”

  He hadn’t been able to get her to listen to a thing he’d said about his relationship with Tippy. She cut him off before he could even begin to explain it. Tippy had given him back the emerald and diamond ring, with all sorts of mumbled apologies, and he’d returned it to the jewelers for the r
efund of most his money. He’d wanted to tell Christabel, but she wouldn’t listen. Neither would she accept the still-wrapped Christmas present he’d brought down for her, certain that it was an attempt to make up for not giving her one at the time. Maude had given him the tie tack Christabel had bought for him, and he’d kept it with him the whole time she was in the hospital. She didn’t know that. He was tired of trying to make her listen.

  Grier had been more visible lately, too, another source of worry, because Christabel perked up the minute he stuck his head in the door. She laughed with him as she never did with Judd anymore.

  “I can’t make you listen,” he said in a heavy, defeated tone. “You don’t want to hear me.”

  She glanced up at him with troubled dark eyes. “You won’t listen to me, either. I said I’d give you a divorce whenever you want it. We can afford it now that we have the film company’s check in the bank.”

  His jaw tautened. “I don’t want a damned divorce!” he snapped. “I don’t want to marry Tippy Moore! I never did!”

  She tried to sit up and accidentally knocked over the glass of orange juice by the bed, spilling it all over herself in the process. “Now look what you made me do!” she raged.

  “I never touched the damned thing!” he shot back, furious.

  Tippy Moore heard the raised voices and stuck her head in. “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she muttered, rushing back out again. She was back seconds later with a towel and a wet washcloth. “Out,” she told Judd, holding the door.

  He started to argue.

  “You heard her!” Christabel seconded. “Out!”

  He threw up his hands and stalked out in a black temper, slamming the door viciously behind him.

  Tippy laughed. “Aren’t men the living end?” she mused. She mopped up the orange juice with the towel. “Where do you keep your gowns?” she asked matter-of-factly.