Night Thunder

by Jill Gregory

  A voice called out through a bullhorn. “Roberta. This is Deputy Frank Tanner. You served me bacon and eggs yesterday at Bessie’s. You know me—I gave you a big tip. And you know I don’t want you or anyone else to get hurt.”

  “To hell with you, Tanner, where the hell is Barclay?” Roberta shouted.

  “He can’t hear you.” Josy twisted her head slightly so she could look at Roberta. “Maybe we should go outside.”

  “Shut up! Get up there by the window!”

  “Roberta, I’m going to call you on Ada’s phone now. Pick it up so we can talk. No one needs to get hurt.”

  “The hell they don’t. I want to see my boys!” Roberta yelled again just as the phone rang. “You get it, bring it to me!” she ordered Josy.

  Josy went to the cordless phone on the side table near the sofa and lifted it from its cradle. It had already rung four times.

  “Don’t answer it, bring it to me!” Roberta commanded. Sweat glistened on her face. “Ada, don’t turn around. Stay right where you are.”

  Josy moved back over the braided rug, toward Roberta, but suddenly her hands fumbled and the phone fell to the floor.

  “Sorry,” she muttered, kneeling quickly. But instead of picking up the phone, she grabbed the edge of the rug and yanked it toward her with all her might.

  Roberta’s feet flew out from under her. She went down, the rifle tilting sideways, but she squeezed the trigger as she fell.

  “Run, Ada!” Josy screamed and dove toward Roberta.

  She threw herself on the woman just as she landed on the floor. As adrenaline pounded through her, she wrenched the rifle away and threw it as far as she could across the room. There was no time to hesitate—she slammed her fist into Roberta’s jaw at the exact moment that Ty bolted in from the kitchen, his Glock in hand.

  But there was no need for his gun. The impact of the punch had sent pain throbbing through Josy’s arm, but it had also sent Roberta’s head snapping back.

  She lay on the floor, unmoving. Unconscious.

  Josy rolled off her, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She stared up at Ty. She was trembling all over, but the expression of relief and joy on his face made her heart go still.

  “Thank God.” His voice was hoarse. “Are you hurt?” He knelt beside her, raised her to her feet. And folded her into his arms.

  “I’m fine . . . but Roberta . . .”

  “She’s breathing, you didn’t kill her, but you decked her good, didn’t you?” His hands were threading through her hair, sifting through the soft strands, while a raspy laugh came from his throat.

  “I almost forgot how tough you are—you didn’t even need me, did you?” he whispered, and his hands suddenly cradled her face, his eyes so tender she couldn’t breathe.

  Suddenly everything else fell away. Everything else ceased to exist. She spoke without thinking, without holding back. Straight from the heart.

  “How can you say that? I’ll always need you.” Sudden hot tears brimmed from her eyes and then she was crushed against his chest.

  “Oh, my God. You don’t know how much I wanted to hear you say that.” Ty kissed her mouth, gently, hungrily, and with a need that made her body melt. “Because I need you too. These last few days have been hell, Josy. But now you’re back in my arms.” He stroked her head, resting against his chest. His voice shook. “And it feels too right for me to ever let you go.”

  They were interrupted by voices from the door and people rushing into the house.

  “Um, Ty? Ada Scott is safe outside with Kevin. Hate to interrupt but . . . this is a crime scene,” Deputy Tanner said drily.

  He was grinning, and all the officers behind him were grinning. Deputy Ed Carter, who’d burst through the kitchen door a good thirty seconds after Ty, was grinning too.

  “Roberta’s out cold,” Ty responded, looking at Tanner, though he hadn’t released Josy or even loosened his hold on her.

  “Cuff her first and then let the paramedics get a look at her. Carter, you take Ada’s statement. Tell her that Josy’s okay. I’m going to . . . question Ms. Warner personally.”

  Josy heard guffaws and chuckles as Ty draped an arm around her waist and led her out of the house.

  They stood in back, near the barn, and held each other.

  “We need to get a few things straight,” Ty said, his lips brushing against the top of her head.

  At the down-to-business tone of his voice her heart splintered. For a moment she’d thought everything was all right, after all, between them, but now she knew. Things weren’t all right.

  They couldn’t be. Perhaps in the moment they’d both gotten carried away, but . . .

  She dropped her arms from his neck, lifted her chin. “I know. I know exactly what you’re going to say.” She forced a pallid facsimile of a smile. “This is never going to work out.”

  She tried to sound matter-of-fact and mature. Pretend you’re Reese, she told herself dully. Reese, to whom short-term, doomed relationships were as common as cabs in Times Square.

  “I know you don’t love me and that I could never replace Meg in your life. You don’t have to spell it out,” she said quickly, not giving him a chance to interrupt. “And I know that I’m going back to New York and you’re staying here in Thunder Creek and I’ve already told you I wouldn’t be happy anyway, being second best, second pick. I need more than that, I want more than that. So as much as I love—I mean, care for you,” she amended quickly, “it won’t work. For so many reasons—”

  “Like hell it won’t.”

  “What?” She stared at him blankly.

  “Were you about to say you love me?”

  Her chin shot up a notch higher. “I’d like to know what that has to do with anything.”

  “Give me a break.” He studied her beautiful face, uplifted to his, all the while stroking her cheek with his thumb. “I thought this was going to be about Ricky.”

  She could only stare at him, speechless. How could it be about Ricky? Suddenly, understanding struck and she felt her heart sink into the pit of her stomach. “You mean, things can’t work out because I tried to help him. You can’t get past that, can you?”

  “No, sweetheart. It’s not that.” His somber eyes glinted into hers even as his big hand cradled her nape.

  “I thought you were the one who couldn’t get past what I did. I was too late, I let Ricky get killed. I know how much he meant to you and I let you down—”

  “Ty, no!” She shook her head. “It wasn’t your fault. You risked everything to try to help me save Ricky. I’ll never forget that.” She drew in a breath. “He died protecting me from Dolph. And for that, and so many other things, I’ll always be grateful. You can’t imagine how much I’m going to miss him. It’s going to take time . . .”

  Her voice cracked and she struggled for control. “I wish I could have been the one to save him. I wish that with all my heart. But I don’t blame you. You have to believe me.”

  Ty studied her face, and slowly nodded. He wished there was a way he could soften the grief tearing through her. But he knew something about grief—and he knew everyone had to cope with it in their own way, their own time.

  “So,” he said evenly, “if you don’t hold Ricky’s death against me, what’s the problem?”

  “You have to ask?” She laughed shakily. “There’s too many to count.” Her eyes darkened. “Starting with all the lies I told you.”

  “I don’t remember you lying to me about anything that really mattered.” He pulled her closer, his arms winding around her waist. “Like what happens when we do this.”

  He bent down and kissed her. The kiss made her dizzy and hot and hungry for more, a lifetime more, but she felt the prick of tears in her eyes again and pushed him away.

  “There’s still Meg. There will always be Meg. And I told you—”

  “You don’t want to be second pick. Second best. Bullshit.”

  “What did you say?”

  “You heard me. Bulls
hit. Do you love me or not?”

  What was wrong with him? Didn’t he understand anything? “What difference does that make?”

  “Meg is dead.” He said the words quietly, so matter-of-factly that Josy could only gaze at him in surprise. “She and I had something special and wonderful and now . . . it’s gone. She’s gone.”

  His eyes glinted at her, warm, direct, full of dazzling blue light. “But you know what I realized? I’m still alive, Josy. You made me realize that. You made me want to be alive again. No one else has ever been able to do that— only you. You remember when I was pinned down, shooting it out with Tate’s men in Slattery’s Saloon? It struck me for the first time then, that I actually cared if I lived through it. And I did . . . because of you.”

  His voice thickened. “I love you, Josy. I think I’ve loved you since the day we went riding. Since the moment you let me hoist you up on Moonbeam, even though you were scared to death. You gave me my life back, and . . . my heart.” He shook his head. “I’m only sorry it took me so long to realize it. But I do now.” He searched her eyes.

  “So will you please tell me, did you or did you not start to say that you loved me?”

  “Actually, I did.” Her hands crept up around his neck. She felt dazed by everything he’d said, but not so dazed that she didn’t feel a bounce of joy jumpstarting her heart. “I do.”

  “Remember those words. We’re going to be saying them again very soon.”

  Everything was happening too quickly. And not quickly enough. “Take it easy, there’s still issues. We have jobs in different cities—”

  “I’ll transfer to the NYPD. We can come back to Thunder Creek whenever we want, stay in the cabin. See how Corinne and Roy are getting along, if they’re as happy as we’re going to be—”

  “Ty, no, I don’t want you to have to quit your job. You love it here. Your horses . . . the cabin . . . I could move to Thunder Creek. I can design clothes anywhere. And I’m sick of working for Francesca, I think she’s the one jamming my creativity. I want to design ball gowns and wedding gowns and tea gowns and I can sketch and sew anywhere. Maybe I can start my own company . . . it would be small, of course, at first, but Reese might back me. I’d have to go to New York periodically of course, but . . .”

  She paused as Ada’s voice broke into the relative quiet near the barn. “Oh, dear Lord, thank God you’re all right!”

  Ty stepped back as Ada threw her arms around Josy. “Honey, that was quick thinking with that old rug. How’d you get to be so brave? And smart. You take after your grandfather, you know. He was quick as a wink, had reflexes like no one else I ever saw.”

  She kissed Josy’s cheek, and hugged her, and Josy kissed hers in return. “I almost fainted when I saw you strapped to that chair. Did she hurt you?”

  “Only my pride, honey. I’m embarrassed that I never caught on to Roberta in all this time she worked at the diner. Imagine, our own Roberta was queen of the rustlers. Wait until Bessie hears about this.”

  “What was that you said, Ada—about Josy taking after her grandfather?” Ty looked puzzled.

  Josy laughed, color popping into her cheeks. She and Ada exchanged glances.

  “It’s very simple actually. There’s just one more thing you don’t know about me, Ty. The real reason why, when I ran, I ran straight to Thunder Creek.”

  Josy slipped an arm around Ada’s shoulders and leaned her cheek against the other woman’s.

  “I came to find Ada. You see, she’s my grandmother.”

  Chapter 32

  “HERE, SHE WANTS TO TALK TO YOU.” TY HANDED Josy his cell phone as she lay cuddled against him in the bed. Her hair was draped like gold lace across the pillow, and her face was flushed petal pink in the moonlight that streamed in the window. Their lovemaking brought out the glow in her eyes, he concluded with satisfaction.

  He’d never seen anyone look so beautiful.

  Far below the bustle and roar of the New York City evening blared through the streets, but here in Josy’s soon-to-be ex-apartment, a feminine haven from the rough world if ever he’d seen one, there had been only the sounds of unfettered pleasure and joy and intense physical exertion until a short while ago when they’d both collapsed into exhausted sleep.

  Then the phone rang. His mother. Josy had become her new best friend.

  “And as soon as you decide if you want to get married in New York or Thunder Creek—or here in Philadelphia, whichever you prefer—we’ll all get together and draw up the plans. I know you—and Ada, of course—will have plenty of ideas, but if there’s anything I can do to help, anything at all—”

  Ty, who could hear his mother’s excited voice, rolled his eyes, grinning, but Josy was listening with avid pleasure.

  “I appreciate that so much, Mrs. Barclay. I’d—”

  “Anne, please.”

  “Anne. I’d love to have your help. I’m going back to Thunder Creek just as soon as I pack up my stuff here and arrange to sublet the apartment. Yes, it’s true, my friend Reese is looking for a loft in Soho we can use as a factory and showroom, and Jane—by the way, I really want you to meet her—is going to be in charge of the New York office and she’s also one of my bridesmaids. No, I haven’t asked Corinne yet. I’d like to ask her in person when we get back there. That’s right, it will be Faith and Corinne and Jane and Reese standing up for me.”

  Ty reached for the bottle of champagne on the bedside table and topped off each of their glasses.

  “Oh, my studio? Ty has a million ideas for that,” Josy was saying with delight. “Your son could have been an architect—he’s drawn up some incredible plans. I’m going to have a mountain view. Yes, to the west, so I can watch the sunset while I’m drawing. We’ll stop in Philadelphia before going to Thunder Creek so we can show you the plans. No, no, I wouldn’t dream of moving into the cabin—it belongs to all the Barclays. I know how much you all love going there and—”

  Ty tossed back his champagne and felt peace enveloping him as he listened to Josy. He loved how animated and happy she sounded, and how delectable she looked in the moonlight—especially since she was lying naked beside him, the sheet draped temptingly just across her breasts.

  Every once in a while he tugged it away, and managed a few quick sweeps of his tongue over those luscious red peaks, before she laughed and gasped and pushed his head away, trying to keep the breathlessness from her voice as she answered his mother’s questions on the phone.

  His family had taken to Josy quicker than a finger snap.

  His father pronounced her “every bit as classy as your mother and equally smart.”

  Adam had punched him in the arm and said Josy was too good for him, and he’d better realize how lucky he was.

  Faith had threatened to tell her all the family stories over Thanksgiving when there would be enough time to explain to his future bride exactly what she was getting herself into.

  And though Josy had seemed a bit shy at first, sooner than he’d thought likely, she’d started feeling at home with them.

  If he’d didn’t know better, listening to her chat with his mother about the wedding right now, he’d almost think she’d been raised in a big, noisy, and very nosy family herself.

  It seemed she was going to like being part of the Barclay clan.

  Finally, it seemed his mother was winding down. Josy handed the phone back to him.

  “Good talking to you, Mom,” Ty said lazily, “but now we’ve got some betrothal business of our own to attend to, if you know what I mean. What? Yes, absolutely. Before the night is over.”

  Josy watched the muscles ripple across his back as he reached to set the phone down on the nightstand.

  “What’s going to happen before the night is over?”

  “I’ll give you three guesses.” He handed her champagne glass back to her and watched her take a sip of it, all the while her eyes were studying him thoughtfully.

  “We’re going to make love again?”

  “That go
es without saying.”

  “We’re going to start packing up the apartment?”

  The mock dismay in her eyes made him laugh.

  “Not on your life. Tomorrow’s soon enough for that. We’re not doing anything tonight that requires more exertion than getting ice cream from the fridge. Except . . . you know.”

  Oh, yes, she knew. Laughing, she reached for him, pulled him down to her, and kissed him with deep happiness.

  “Then, what is it? I give up.” She slid her hands down his chest, her fingers exploring.

  “Okay, you get one hint. What goes with champagne?”

  “Roses. You already brought me some.”

  He had. An exquisite bouquet of American Beauty roses graced her dresser.

  “Try again. You’d never make detective, not if you’re this slow on the uptake.”

  She nipped his shoulder, and then chewed her bottom lip. “We’ve got moonlight already, so it can’t be that. Let’s see. Chocolates? Champagne and chocolates.”

  A wide smile crossed his face. “Good enough. Hold on.”

  He slid from the bed, all six foot two of sinewy, muscled male, and strode naked to the corner of the room where he’d dropped his briefcase.

  Her gaze ran over his splendid body as he unclasped the case and withdrew a signature gold Godiva box. Pure lust jolted through her. Ty was not only far and away the sexiest man she’d ever seen, he was also the most tender lover.

  And he was hers. Ty loved her, and he’d proved that over and over during the past eight days.

  Throughout all the interviews and questions, both in Thunder Creek and back in New York, when she’d faced another trio of detectives from internal affairs, he’d stood by her, backed her, supported her.

  And so had everyone in Thunder Creek, once the truth had come out about Ricky, the diamond, Roberta, all of it. Roy and Corinne, Katy and Jackson Brent, Bessie Templeton, and everyone else had rallied around her once the whole story had raced like wildfire through the town.

  Corinne had freaked out at first that Roberta, her matron of honor, was really Bobbi June Byrd, the brains behind the rustling ring—and that she was going to jail for at least the next ten years. But Corinne had managed to calm down in time for the wedding, and in the end nothing else disastrous had happened except that Tammie Morgan had fallen down the steps of the church and broken her ankle and Corinne’s father’s flight from Texas had been delayed due to storms and he’d only reached the church Sunday morning an hour before the ceremony was to start.