“Sure, we can.” Randy answered adamantly for her. “We’ll get a flight out tomorrow night. Unless you need us to stay longer.”
“I’ll know more when you call me tonight.”
“Are you charging him?” Her mouth seemed frozen, and the words were barely more than a whisper.
“We’ll talk later. Hold on a minute.” Out he went again, leaving her and Randy standing there with many eyes on them. She gazed at both men and women who sat at small desks with big guns on their hips or from shoulder holsters. A shiver shook her shoulders at the memory of the first time she came here after being released from the hospital. Before that, she had met Detective Daniels the first time when she got out of surgery and recovery. The police had called her dad, who in return, called Nora. They arrived together the same night.
Randy tucked his hands into his pockets, and spoke while staring at others around the room. “I’m sorry I suggested covering your eyes, I mean if you did, but—”
“No, no, it helped, albeit, I never want to do it again.”
He hooked his arm around her shoulder to bring her closer. “You might have to if they get the other guy.”
Roxanne sighed, then spoke low with precise words, “Maybe they can just get Nate and throw his sorry carcass to the lions.”
“I’ll be the lion.”
She peered into Randy’s unswerving gaze. Anger lived there. Thank God, he hadn’t heard the sleazy words. “We both will.”
One more time, Detective Daniels returned and this time he escorted them to the exit door with few words said between the three of them.
Once outside and in the SUV, Randy called the hotel they had planned on staying at the night before to reserve a room for tonight.
“You don’t have to stay, Randy. I appreciate you going through this with me, but this is all on me now. You have a job to do at home.”
“Bullshit. I’m not leaving you here alone. How many times do I have to tell you that?”
Sure, she was safe at the moment but those threats of what they wanted to do to her, rang through her brain in a circle. Icy words twirled all the way down her backbone causing a horrific chill to freeze her bones. A cold stemming from pure fear surrounded her.
Randy pulled out of the parking area. On the highway toward Tulsa, he took her hand. “Why’d they leave you alive and bleeding on the road that night? I mean, did they leave you there after they…”
His throat jogged up and down when his words halted. Her heart sank when he couldn’t ask if they had carried through with their threats to, well, it wouldn’t have been pretty. It was a good chance she wouldn’t have survived more blood loss. No, they hadn’t scarred her face with much more than a small cut below her cheekbone. Neither had they cut elsewhere like they’d threatened, other than the slice on her breast.
She began, “As I told you, the night on that road, a car came toward us as they stopped to do their dirty work, but then they took off. I suppose by then, all they wanted to do was get out of there because the place wasn’t as desolate as they had figured, or they got scared. You know the rest.”
His mind must’ve run in overdrive. “No, Randy, they didn’t… All my clothes were on when they threw me out, but the buttons on my blouse had been ripped off. That’s when they went ahead a little way before turning around.”
Thank God for the car coming in the opposite direction in the beginning. Otherwise, she’d be telling this story at the Pearly Gates. She hadn’t noticed her hand had curled around the seat belt so tight, it had begun to cut into her palm.
It took a moment before he spoke, but his hands wrapped tight around the top of the steering wheel. “I wanna kill your ex-husband for plotting this.”
“Don’t talk like that. It isn’t the Randy Drake I know.”
“Do you know what I did in the Army, Roxanne? I killed people. I can do it again. That’s the guy you don’t know.” Randy’s voice was gruff and scratchy. Angry.
She couldn’t respond. All she wanted to do now was go to sleep and dream of something beautiful like galloping through the desert under fluffy cumulus clouds in a cerulean sky.
Randy slowed the SUV. “I’ll stop ahead and get some food to take back to the room.”
Resting her head back, she peered out the side window. “I’m not hungry.”
A fast food restaurant loomed ahead, and he turned into the parking lot toward the drive thru. “I am, and you need to eat something.”
“Whatever you want. Why do you think Detective Daniels wants me to call him?”
“Maybe to tell you he charged that idiot with attempted murder and kidnapping.”
“I hope so, but the guy might not have been there. Who knows where either of them could be?” Her self-confidence hit a new low. Had she gone through that for nothing? What was the point?
“If they’re that sure to have you come here, they aren’t letting him go.” He paused. “Daniels has a thing for you.”
“What? You’re nuts! He’s a nice guy doing his job.”
“I don’t doubt he is.”
What was up with Randy now? He hadn’t been the jealous type. But she had felt the same thing when Detective Daniels looked at her. Jumbled musings raced through her head. She had told the administrator she’d been one hundred percent sure. The same voice had caused a filth to cover her body. Imaginary dung coated her skin at the sound of the way he had said the words—like he wanted another chance to get it right. Straightening her back with a new optimism, Roxanne reached for Randy’s hand. “Hold me tight in bed tonight.”
He faced her with a genuine smile. “I will. In fact, you don’t know how much I’m looking forward to holding you in bed. It wasn’t easy lying with you last night. Damn, but I hate what I said the other day. I want you.”
Her body heat spiked at his words, for she had wanted the same thing, and last night she had come close to reaching out for him, to touch him—to bring him to life.
***
Randy stood in the shower longer than necessary to allow the hot water to roll over his face and down his body. He needed to wash the day away. Earlier when Roxanne had called the detective back, she’d been told he’d hoped to get a confession tonight after charging the man who owned the voice and matched the DNA. He’d wanted her to stick around in case they had arrested the second guy.
The hell that Roxanne had endured at the hands of those men caused his heart to twist. A hate built up inside. A hate that hadn’t surfaced since his own merciless ordeal in the Army when all the men in his unit, except for him and Zach Bryson, had been ambushed, slaughtered by the enemy after a long firefight. The two of them along with the rescue team, got the bastards in the end.
He and Zach had both been wounded before it was all over, but held their ground before getting back to the Forward Operating Base. It had taken a long time to move past that night after suffering wounds and the loss of friends. As soon as his time was up, he left the Army, and when Zach’s time had been up, he got out, too. Both of them suffered inside more than they’d admit to each other. Now, the loathing was strong enough to kill again. He pushed the notions back, not wanting to go there tonight.
By time he reached for a towel, the water had cooled, but he didn’t want Roxanne to see him in this frame of mind. He wrapped the towel around his waist, opened the door, and took his time shaving. He hadn’t shared a bed with anyone for a long time until last night, which was uneventful to say the least. He got his unruly hair in place then slipped into his sleep pants.
“Roxanne,” he called when he came out. “Can we talk a minute?” She sat on the opposite side of the king bed atop the sheet after she’d turned the covers down, but glanced over her shoulder. She looked pretty with her hair wavy after a steamy shower. Her face looked natural with barely a touch of makeup. He smiled, unable to deny the attraction and arousal. “What are you doing?”
“Examining my leg…” Her words failed like her lungs had run out of air.
He’d bet
she wasn’t ready to let him see the stump. “Do you want me to go back in the bathroom, or leave for a few minutes?”
“I don’t know.” Her shoulders slumped as she sat there in pink and grey flannel bottoms and a grey short-sleeved t-shirt.
Randy knelt on the opposite side with one knee on the bed. If she didn’t know, he sure as hell didn’t. “I don’t know what you want me to do. You can’t hide from me forever. Nothing’s going away.”
“I know, Randy.”
“I get it you’re not ready but you said you’d try. Want me to get another room?”
“No!”
“I know what it looks like, and I’m sure it looks better than what I’ve seen after an IED explosion.” He pulled the covers down on his side of the bed and got beneath them, and he turned his back to give her space, but good God, he wanted to wrap her up tight in his arms and drag her atop him. Her warm body beside him again tonight was going to drive him bananas.
After a few seconds’ pause, she continued, “What did you want to talk to me about when you came out?”
“I meant it about holding you.” He rolled to his back and placed his hands behind his head. She turned in a semi-circle to face him, curling her right knee in front of her while the other leg dangled over the side of the bed. The pink rose on the front of her t-shirt brought color to her face, which enhanced the blue of her sexy eyes. “Those few nights we shared my bed at home when you’d visit, well, you didn’t see me wake a number of times in the night because I got up when you went to sleep. Last night, too. I don’t have anywhere to venture to in this room. Some nights I don’t sleep much.”
She stretched to lay her hand against his chest. “I did notice some of the times. Not much chance I’ll sleep tonight anyway. Issues left over from the Army? Do you have PTSD?”
Oh, shit. There went that question again. She was the one who had PTSD. “Left over from the Army, I suppose.” He covered her hand with his, and continued with part of the story about how he and his buddy had been the only survivors, but he made it casual so the topic didn’t go forth, at least not this close to going to bed.
She glanced down for a moment to straighten a fold on the flannel of her pajamas, then raised her eyes to his. “What can I say that hasn’t already been said to you? I’m sorry doesn’t seem like enough.”
He smoothed his hand over her thigh, wishing to touch bare flesh instead of cotton. “Right. The same problem I had when you told me what had happened to you. I’ve already mentally berated myself over my memories, and over wondering if I’d made a bad decision somewhere along the line. I bet you’ve gone over your own ordeal to determine if you could’ve done something different.”
She sighed quietly while still looking downward. “True. If only I hadn’t left the theater alone—”
“It’s not your fault, you know. My buddies getting killed wasn’t mine.” He gulped.
Roxanne changed position again, pulled the covers over her, and scooted closer to him. “We’ll get over it one day, won’t we, sweetie?”
“I’m over it. Well, my mind still wants to remember. It’s easier than it used to be.” After a short hesitation, he turned to his side and lazily wrapped his arm around her waist to draw her closer. “I believe it’s time for holding. Do you need anything else?”
“Yes, but it feels too secure and comforting to be in your arms. I’m sor—”
“Tell me what you need.”
“My crutch needs to be on my side of the bed or you’ll see me crawl to the bathroom.”
He peered at her face. Her eyes squeezed closed, probably so he couldn’t see emotion in them. “Don’t be embarrassed. I have ugly scars I never wanted you to see, either. Sleep on this side closer to the bathroom.”
“Your scars are inside. I don’t know which is worse.”
Oh, there were scars outside, too. “Me neither.” He tossed the covers back and got out of bed to get her crutch over by the door. Around the bed, her prosthesis lay on the floor with a shoe matching the one beside it. His nerves screamed each time he thought of the pain that had come with the injury. “Roxanne, can you wear a high heel?”
She turned over half way to look at him. “Um, well, not with this prosthetic. Why?”
“I’m taking you dancing. Flat shoes will suffice.”
Roxanne gave him a soft-hearted smile. “All right, but I’m not sure when it’ll happen. I’m not ready.”
“I’m sure you can do it. No backing out.” No way was he going to let her give up on her love of dance, or his love of watching her dance.
“I guess we’ll see how the attempt goes.” She held her hand out. “Come back to bed.”
He candidly picked up her prosthesis to bring around to the other side of the bed. He set the crutch against the wall between the bedside table and bed, then crawled over her. Roxanne scooted closer. “I suppose I said this before, but I’m saying it again, so don’t be bored with me.” He gave a skewed grin. “I’m happy you came back home. There’s so much I want to do with you.” Hah, so much!
“Do you really mean that I came back home, or came back to you?”
He rubbed his thumb over her lips while staring at their delicious fullness. “Have you come back to me?”
She cuddled up against him, slid her hand around his back, and pressed her lips against his. Her lips were sweet, her tongue warm when she slipped it inside his mouth. Her body was welcoming and up against him, which sent his brain into a hot pool of glob. Returning the kiss, and their mouths moving together in a fluid motion, took any other thought away, and he knew damn well there would be no sleep tonight. It wouldn’t be memories keeping him awake. He wanted her and eased his hand to her back and lower, but she stiffened. “It’s all right.”
He kissed her throat and nuzzled his way up to her ear. “The first time making love as an amputee is going to happen only once. Don’t worry about your legs because trust me, I have other things on my mind than to be concerned with what your leg looks like.” His racing breaths should’ve told her that.
Pushing at his shoulder, she blurted out, “Wait. I have something else to tell you.”
More? That sort of took care of the mood. He moved to his back again, panting like he’d climbed a mountain, and he prepared himself for what came next in her ordeal. “What is it?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop saying you’re sorry, it isn’t necessary. We both know we’re starting over from the beginning. I’m lying in bed with a sexy woman who I want to make love to. Slap me now if you don’t like me going back on what I’d said about waiting.”
“I’m sorry because I stopped you, but in order to go on, I have to be totally honest about everything.”
His chest rose in a deep breath. “That would be nice.” The picture of her being ravaged by them ransacked his mind. What kind of lasting effect would something like that leave her with mentally? Sexually? The ceiling seemed to lower and close them in like a prison cell, like it was squeezing air out of his lungs.
Sitting up to face him, she brought the blanket to her chest and bent one knee up. “I’m aware that what I’m about to say could change everything between us. It makes me sad but this has to come out.”
“Go on.”
“I don’t know if you ever want a family, a wife and a child, or whichever way it happened, but…. But… Oh, sweet Randy, I can’t have kids.”
Whoa! What a shock. Not what he’d expected. She couldn’t, or didn’t want kids? He blinked, unsure whether to keep his eyes open or closed. With his breath still sucked in, he had to be sure. He shifted his eyes toward her without turning his head. “I don’t know if I heard you right. What?” He released his held breath.
“I can’t have any kids.”
Now he sat up, but he got out of bed and went to the counter area for a glass and a drink of water. In the bathroom, he closed the door and leaned against it. She can’t have kids? Because of her accident? The stabbing? Her husband wasn’t the only one he
wanted to fucking kill. She had loved kids—he saw it when they were around the Carlson kids, especially Nora’s daughters. Destiny called her Aunt Roxanne. She had kids in her dance classes. Damn. This had to be so heartbreaking for her. So why was he standing here?
He opened the door and slowly walked back to bed, sat on the edge, released a breath. Now, she didn’t even look at him. “Is this because of your attack, or is it something else that’s always been?”
She covered her face with her hands and his heart skipped a beat. “Bingo. Damage had been done from the knife—too much to repair inside to make it safe to be a mother.”
Bastard! They robbed her of being a mother? He closed his eyes a minute to find calm before speaking.
Where in the hell was that calm?
After a couple paces around the room, he found half-ass composure, and he sat back down and nudged her. “Look at me.” He lifted her chin until she faced him against her will. “Open your eyes.” She did and they were wet. “I probably wouldn’t make a good dad, anyway. Worse? I never had a good role model.” Randy winked. “Looks like we’re a good match.”
But he’d known that from the first time he’d met her over a year and a half ago. Tears rolled from her eyes, but she brushed them away as quickly as they fell.
“Oh, Randy.” They scooted down and lay side by side staring into each other’s eyes. She laid her soft palm against his cheek. “Do you know how sweet you are?”
“Uh uh. Put your arms around me and slide over here real close.” He smiled inside to have her do what he asked. “Yeah, like that,” he whispered. “Does that mean I don’t have to use a condom when we make love?” In case she swatted him, he was ready to duck.
“Don’t push it, cowboy.” she teased, and then she laughed out loud. “Who likes condoms anyway?”
Her jolly laugh made him chuckle, for it had been a while since he’d heard it. Out of his own joy, he dragged her atop him. “I haven’t been with anybody for…” Never mind. “On top of me is where I want you tonight. With or without clothes.”
Prompting him, Roxanne pulled her t-shirt over her head and ran her hands over his bare chest. She lowered her gaze over his belly, lower to observe faint scars across his abdomen. Tracing them with one finger, she leaned down to kiss the length of one, which went below his waistband, so she lowered the bottoms a bit. Holy crap!
Lassoing The Last Dance (Double Dutch Ranch; Love At First Sight Book 4) Page 10
