“Your children deserve a strong mother. Don’t let them down.” How he wished someone could have gotten that through to his own mother. He glanced down at the child clinging to her side, then back at her. “I was him once. He’s young enough to be saved. Save him.”
Her eyes bled misery, but he saw determination spark. “I will. Somehow I will.”
“Good.” He nodded at her, then stroked the boy’s hair. “Thank you for staying where I put you, Kevin.”
“Is he gone? Is he dead? He won’t hurt her anymore?”
“Not anymore. Now you be good for your mama. She and the baby are gonna need your help.”
The boy considered his mother then looked back. “Yes, sir.”
“Mrs. Karnes,” Bridger interrupted. “The deputy’s bleeding a lot. I need to see to him.”
“Oh—of course.” She stepped away. “Thank you,” she said to Tank, heart in her eyes.
“You’ll make it,” Tank swore to her. He’d keep a watch to be sure.
She looked frightened but firmed her jaw. “I will.”
Then she turned back to the other medic, and Tank realized it was Dr. Jake. “How’d you get him here?” he asked Bridger.
“He came after his wife. When I got the call, I took advantage of the fact that he was in town. Now come on. Let’s get you patched up, hero.”
“I’m not—”
“Pretty sure those two think you are, and I’m with them. Bastard would never have stopped until he killed them, would he?”
“Nope,” Tank replied grimly. “He wouldn’t have.”
Chrissy didn’t know what she would have done without Mrs. Oldham, one of Ruby’s boarders. Taking her share of breakfast shifts was only fair, but with two kids to get off to school, she could never have managed both without the older woman’s help. Laura’s stay had been a godsend in that regard, but Laura was off with Jake, and Chrissy hoped they were wrapped up together and safely back in love. She’d explained Laura’s absence to Ruby, who’d been sympathetic.
She was serving coffee to the Rascals’ Table, as she thought of it, the big round table where the regulars gathered every morning: Arnie Howard, Harley Sykes, Raymond Benefield and their bunch. Harley was holding forth. “You gotta be button-busting’ proud of your nephew, Raymond. Gib’s crew is going to take the NASCAR championship again this year, sure looks like. Even this early in the season, they look unbeatable.”
Raymond grinned. “The boy is a damn fine crew chief, for sure, and danged if it wasn’t a barrel of fun getting to be at the Texas race and hang out on pit road with him and his bunch.”
“His driver looked good in the race championship cowboy hat,” Arnie noted.
“You ask me, shoulda been Gib Douglas wearing it. My sister’s boy runs that team like some sort of magician.” Raymond frowned. “Nita worries about him, though. Got hot and cold running women hanging around him, but he needs a wife and babies, she’s convinced.”
“Of course she is,” Harley said. “Women all think a man needs to be hogtied, right, Chrissy?”
“You really don’t want me answering that, now do you, Mr. Sykes?”
“Girl, you ever gonna break down and call me Harley like everyone else? I mean, you’re part of the family now.”
Warmth suffused her at the notion. “I’ll try, Mr—Harley.”
“So where’s that wizard cook sister of yours this fine morning? Taking care of those kiddos?” Raymond asked.
“No. They’re with Mrs. Oldham. Laura is…otherwise occupied.”
Harley’s eyebrows rose. “Sounds interesting. Anything we need to know for our radio show?”
“No!” Laura would kill her.
“Well, now, surely you can drop us just a hint—never mind. Here she comes now. Let’s ask her ourselves. Say, there, Laura, you come to treat us to more of your fine cooking?”
But her sister looked agitated, and Chrissy’s heart sank. What had Jake done now?
“I apologize, Harley, but I need to talk to Chrissy for a second.” She practically dragged her sister away from the table.
“What’s wrong? Is Jake okay?”
Laura hugged her quickly and hard. “Jake’s fine.” She gripped Chrissy’s hands. “It’s Tank.”
“Tank?” Chrissy couldn’t process. “What—”
“Jake got called out by Bridger. There was an incident, domestic violence. I don’t know the details. But Tank was shot. He’s going to be okay—” Laura hastened to reassure her. “Jake swears the wound isn’t too bad because the shot went wide, but I thought you’d want to know.”
“Where is he?” Chrissy turned toward the kitchen. “Ruby, please, I have to go. Can you manage?”
Ruby came around the pass-through. “What’s happened? Are your children all right?”
“Yes. It’s Tank. He was shot, and I need to go to him.”
Ruby looked into her eyes. “You really care about him, don’t you?”
“I just—” Chrissy stifled useless equivocation. “Yes. I do. I know no one around here does, but—”
“Good,” Ruby interrupted. “About time that boy had someone on his side.”
“Really? You mean that?”
“I do. As I said the other day, we should have paid more attention around here, looked beneath the surface. Good for you that you did. So yes, go. We’ll manage. Laura can take over for me, and I can wait your tables if need be. You just keep us posted, all right?”
Chrissy hugged the older woman. “Thank you.”
“No thanks needed, sweetheart.” Ruby turned to Laura. “Did I hear you say Dr. Jake went out on a call with Bridger?”
“He did.” As Chrissy turned away, she heard Laura continue. “Bridger has him convinced to take a look at the clinic.”
Chrissy whipped back. “To practice here? Would he do that, stay here? Would you?” But her whole body jittered with the need to go to Tank.
“We’re thinking about it,” her sister replied. “But we’ll talk about that later. You go on now.”
Chrissy didn’t waste another second racing out the door.
The paperwork took a long time, but Sheriff Hoover offered to finish up so Tank could go home and get horizontal. He offered another deputy to drive him, but Tank just wanted to be alone.
As he drove from the jail, however, he realized what he really wanted was Chrissy. He yearned to cleanse himself in her sweetness, let her smile and her faith in good wash away the grime of the night.
His memories were coming fast and hard, though, and he wasn’t fit company. He drove through his gate and stopped for a second in front of the old ranch house, looking at the place where so much horror had occurred.
He jammed the gear into Park and emerged. Strode to the barn and came back out with his weapon of choice.
A sledgehammer.
This ends now.
Suddenly the longing for fresh air and a new start made his lungs ache. He couldn’t breathe until it was done.
With one mighty swing, he bashed in the front door. Felt the satisfying crack of wood. Then he turned and took aim at one of the porch posts, stepping away just in time as the roof began to sag.
He took one breath of freedom and smiled grimly.
If he wouldn’t set the pasture on fire doing so, he’d burn the damn thing to the ground, but it had been a dry spring. As a member of the fire department, he couldn’t bring himself to take the risk.
Anyway, beating the hell out of this structure that housed so many nightmares was surprisingly invigorating. He swung at another porch post and listened for the cracks of old wood.
Take that, you old bastard. You evil, worthless bastard.
Maybe it was a madness all its own, this joy in destruction.
But maybe it was a step toward something good.
He felt his stitches pulling, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t breathe until this place was gone. When he’d reached the limits of the sledgehammer, he’d get his backhoe and level the thing. Dig a t
rench around it.
Then maybe he’d have a bonfire, after all.
When Chrissy arrived, she saw Tank swinging that huge sledgehammer like a man chased by demons. The sleeve of his shirt was spotted red. “Tank, stop!”
But he didn’t hear her, lost in whatever was driving him.
She couldn’t let him hurt himself worse, so she went to him, had to step back quickly as he heaved the huge hammer again. “Tank!”
He whirled in mid-swing. Took a step away from her, eyes wide in horror. “What are you doing here?” He held out a palm as if to shove her away. “Get back! Can’t you see—Chrissy, I could have killed you with this.”
She realized he was trembling. “Set it down, Tank. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I can’t. Not until it’s gone. I can’t get it out of here—” He tapped at his temple “—as long as I have to look at it every day.” But he dropped his arm, and the huge sledgehammer hit the ground with a thud.
“You’re bleeding.”
“I don’t care.”
“I do. Let me look.”
He backed away. “Not until I’m clean. Don’t come near me, Chrissy.” His head dropped, his fists dangling at his sides, despair in every line of his frame. “I’ll never be clean.” He looked up at her. “I’ll never be what you need. I’m kidding myself to think otherwise. You need to go.”
“You promised me a date.”
A shake of his head. “No dates. No family. No…love. It’s always there in me, don’t you see? I can’t get clean—”
She couldn’t stand his pain. “Tank—” She started toward him. “What happened last night?”
His eyes were bleak. “I slammed into my past. My future.”
“You saved a woman’s life, and that of her child.”
He held up a hand to stop her. “I could be that man.”
“No, you can’t. I know you. You’re nothing like your father.”
“How can you be sure when I’m not?” he shouted, his blue eyes swirling with torment. “You can’t. Nobody can.”
“I do. I see who you are. I wish you could. I’m not giving up on you. Don’t you want me?”
Longing battled with regret in his features, and he was tearing her heart out. “You’re all I’ve ever known of sunshine, and I want you so damn bad, but I can’t—his blood is in me. It’s always in me.”
“It’s not. You saved that woman. You’ve been kind and gentle to my kids. You’re not him, Tank. He’s gone, and you’re a good man. You’ve already beaten him.”
He watched her, his chest heaving, gaze stark.
But his eyes said he wanted hope. Needed it in the worst way. “I’m not afraid of you, Tank. I never have been.”
Wary eyes studied her forever. A muscle in his jaw flexed. “You can’t really mean that. You just feel sorry for me.”
“I do not. I admire you. What you’ve been through—who would be strong enough to survive, much less reach out to me, to my kids? To that woman tonight?”
Agony rippled over his features. His eyes burned into hers. “You scare the hell out of me.”
That surprised a laugh out of her. “Me?”
But he didn’t laugh. He only studied her with no indication of his thoughts. When she stepped toward him, he stepped away. He turned and walked off, while her heart crashed to her feet.
More than once she started to speak, but her words hadn’t mattered. He didn’t listen.
Maybe he would never listen. Maybe she was a fool.
Abruptly, he whirled.
He stared at her a little longer, then began to walk toward her, his face a thundercloud. “You’re so naive. So damn sweet. I should stay away from you, but if you don’t stop me right now, I’m going to grab hold of what you’re offering, and I’m not going to let go.”
“What?” She couldn’t clear her head. “What did you say?”
“It’s insane of you to offer, but I want this so blasted badly, and you keep offering. So—okay. I’m going to have you, Chrissy, and I will do my damnedest to believe that there’s something in me that can deserve you some day. But I’m warning you right now,” he said, gripping her shoulders, his voice a growl. “I’m going to make mistakes. I don’t know the first thing about being a family. I don’t know how to love.”
Her relief was so huge she was dizzy. “You’re wrong about that. There’s so much love inside you, just wanting to get free.”
“Maybe there is. I don’t know. But I do know this: I’m going to do everything in my power to love you right, and if you’ll trust me with those two children, I swear I’ll cut off my arms before I’ll harm them.”
“We need you, Tank, even more than you need us.”
“Not possible. You’re all I know of joy and light.” He yanked her close. “I wish I could burn away my memories and come to you clean and new.” His big arms held her as though she was what kept him standing.
She lifted a shaking hand to brush his hair and stroke his jaw. “Your memories are part of the good, kind, brave man you are. You’re the strongest man I know, but you don’t always have to be. You can lean on me, too.”
“I don’t know how.” His heart was in his eyes. “I’m afraid of leaning too hard.”
“We’ll hold each other up, how about that?” She slid her arms around his neck and hugged him close, an embrace that wasn’t meant to be sexual, though desire hummed beneath her skin. Right now was about comfort for both of them, and as his powerful arms banded her and held her almost too tightly to breathe, she turned her face into his throat. “I love you,” she whispered in his ear.
His big body shuddered, then he lifted her right off the ground, speaking in a deep, earnest growl. “I swear to you that I will spend my life seeing that you don’t regret taking a chance on me.”
She spread her fingers over the back of his head and gripped him more tightly still. “Does that mean you might love me, too?”
“I don’t say those words.” Then he held her away enough to look into her eyes. “I never thought anyone would want me to.”
“I do. So much, Tank.”
“Then I will.” He took a deep breath. “Your love is my only hope of salvation. I don’t deserve you, but I do love you. From the bottom of this broken, beat-up heart, I love you, Chrissy.”
She placed her hand over his chest where she felt the beat. “It’s a valiant heart, and I want you to trust me to take good care of it.”
He embraced her, and they stayed that way for long, sweet moments that began to feel like hope.
Then she registered the wetness of his sleeve. “You’re still bleeding! We have to fix it right this second.”
“I can’t even feel it.” His gaze was tender.
“Oh no! That’s probably a really bad sign. Put me down right now. I’m calling Jake to come and doctor you—”
“No, you’re not.” He lowered his head to hers and kissed away the lecture that was brimming.
And for those precious, sweet moments, she let him. She sank into his kiss, feeling the bright hope of their future.
Then she slugged his good arm. “Let me down. We’re taking care of that bandage right now, and if you don’t behave, I’m calling Jake and Bridger and—” She realized the biggest threat she could make. “Veronica. So she can cry over you, too.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Bet me.” She tried a cocky smile, but she couldn’t pull it off. “Tank, please,” she asked quietly. “Let me take care of you.”
Something raw peered out from his beautiful blue eyes. “I don’t know how.”
No one had ever taken care of him? She battled past the need to smother him with sympathy he wouldn’t welcome. “Then it’s about time you learned.” And if she had anything to say about it, he’d get plenty of experience. She took his hand and led him into his little house, gathering her first look at how he lived.
The spartan nature of his quarters made her blink again, but she didn’t falter as she all but dragged h
im into the bathroom and flipped down the toilet seat and lid. “Sit.” She carefully removed tape and bandaging. “Oh, Tank—look at what he did to you!” She couldn’t help clasping him to her.
He leaned his forehead into the valley of her breasts, then released a long sigh as if weary to the depths of his soul.
She stood over him, stroking his head, then placing a kiss to the top of it. His wound was only seeping, and the greater damage should be seen to first. This brave man’s heart needed care even more than his body.
His big arms wrapped around her waist, and they both clung like shipwreck survivors. After a long moment, he finally looked up, vulnerable and open. “You’re sure?”
It wasn’t his wound he was talking about, she knew. He was giving her one more chance to walk away from all that loving him would entail.
“I have never been more sure of anything in my life.” Her own voice trembled.
With one hand, he thumbed away her tears. “I promise—” He had to clear his throat. “I will do everything in my power never to make you cry again.”
She found a smile and stroked his face. “Not all tears are bad, my love. Now let me fix this.”
Reluctantly he let her go, so she could.
With shaking hands, she made quick work of the bandaging. “There.” She fought to keep her voice steady. “Now, you need to rest.”
“Not without you.” He lifted her onto his lap and wrapped her up tightly.
“Oh, Tank…” She pressed her cheek to his hair and soaked in the closeness.
“I need you.” His voice was muffled.
A small thrill ran through her. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Abruptly he stood. “Yeah. You are.”
“Tank, put me down. You’ll tear your stitches again—”
“You weigh nothing,” he scoffed as he carried her to his bed, then abruptly halted and let her slide to her feet. He blew out a breath. “No. I can’t—this place isn’t—There’s no romance here.” He began to turn. “I’ll take you home.”
She gripped his arm and made him turn back. “I have my own car,” she said, placing her palm against his tight jaw. “But even if I didn’t, we’re not leaving.” The doubts in his eyes told her he was retreating again. “Come on.” It was like tugging a boulder to get him to move, but she was determined. She crawled onto his bed, then patted the empty mattress beside her. “Come here. Lie down with me.”
Texas Strong Page 22
