He could see the wheels turning by the flittering of expressions on Claire’s face. She was thinking hard. “I can’t trust you.”
“Look,” he held up the gun, hooking it on his finger. “You can trust me. I love Melly and the baby enough to die for them.”
“Nix...,” Melly whimpered.
“Shut up!” Claire tightened her fist in Melly’s hair. “You want to save that baby, don’t you?”
“Let’s do this, Claire,” Nix encouraged.
“Drop the weapon and kick it to me,” Claire said.
Without hesitation, he did exactly what she demanded. Once the gun was on the ground, Claire loosened her hold and gave Melly a hard shove.
“Say goodbye.” Something detached crossed over Claire’s face. Her hand was shaking as she aimed the gun.
“I don’t think so, bitch!” Melly stepped forward and landed her fist in Claire’s jaw just as the gun fired. She tumbled to the ground.
Nix heard the whizzing of the bullet pass his head. Close call. Melly kicked Claire’s hand, sending the gun onto the ground. Racing for his own gun, he jumped and hit the pavement, grasping the handle of the weapon before Claire moved. “Flinch and I’ll shoot,” he warned.
As if she knew she’d reached the end of her rope, Claire fell back onto the pavement and burst into tears. Nix stood, keeping the gun aimed on her but he took the steps that brought him to Melly. Reaching for his cell, he dialed a number. “This is Special Agent Nixon Cade. I need an ambulance at 4334 Trego Creek…yeah, the junkyard. I have a victim with injuries. She’s pregnant. I have the perp detained. Please make it quick.” He stuffed the phone deep into his pocket. Melly was staring at him. “Are you okay?”
After a long hesitation, she finally answered, “Yeah, I am. Are you?”
“Hell yeah! Especially now that I’m with you.”
Epilogue
“YOU SEE THIS?” The technician pointed to a shadowy spot on the monitor. “Can you tell me what you see?” She directed her question to Nix.
He stared and then smiled. “Is the baby a girl?”
The woman smiled. “Yes. You are having a girl.”
Nix looked down at Melly who had tears streaming down her cheeks. “What’s wrong, sunshine?” He bent close and tangled his fingers in her hair. “The baby is fine. Look at her.”
“I-I know, but…”
“But what?” He kissed her wet cheek.
“It has been such a crazy few months. I can’t even think clearly.”
He smiled and touched her chin, bringing her gaze up to meet his. “I love you, Melly. You’ve seized my heart. You and the baby are my world. I’d choose to sit behind a desk pushing paperwork for the rest of my life if it meant I could come home to you each and every day. Please tell me what you want me to do to make you my wife,” he whispered.
She blinked. “I’d never ask you to quit what you love doing. You’re an amazing lawman and people need you out there protecting them.”
“But I want to protect you and our girl.”
“You will. I’m going to be your wife, Nix Cade. We belong together. I’d rather have seconds in your arms than a lifetime without you. I love you. I love our baby. I love us.”
Not the end, but only the beginning…
From the author:
Thank you for reading. Please leave a review and let others know your thoughts.
Hugs,
Rhonda Lee Carver
At an early age, Rhonda fell in love with romance novels, knowing one day she’d write her own love story. Life took a short detour, but when the story ideas were no longer contained, she decided to dive in and write. Her first plot was on a dirty napkin she found buried in her car. Eventually, she ran out of napkins. With baby on one hip and laptop on the other, she made a dream into reality—one word at a time.
Her specialty is men who love to get their hands dirty and women who are smart, strong and flawed. She loves writing about the everyday hero.
When Rhonda isn’t crafting sizzling manuscripts, you will find her busy editing novels, blogging, juggling kids and animals (too many to name), dreaming of a beach house and keeping romance alive. Oh, and drinking lots of coffee to keep up with her hero and heroine.
For other titles by Rhonda Lee Carver, please visit: www.rhondaleecarver.com.
Find me on Facebook, too! www.facebook.com/rhondalee.carver
Other books by Rhonda Lee Carver
Diamond in a Rose
Double Dare
Delaney’s Sunrise
Second Chance Cowboy (Book 1, Second Chance Series)
Second Ride Cowboy (Book 2, Second Chance Series)
Second Round Cowboy (Book 3, Second Chance Series)
Second Dance Cowboy (Book 4, Second Chance Series)
Second Song Cowboy (Book 5, Second Chance Series)
Second Burn Cowboy (Book 6, Second Chance Series)
Second Hope Cowboy (Book 7, Second Chance Series)
Second Sunrise Cowboy (Book 8, Second Chance Cowboy Series)
Castle’s Fortress
Dreaming Ivy
Friends With Benefits
Sin With Cuffs
With Honor
Wicked Pleasures (Book 1, Wicked Wolves Series)
Wicked Lust (Book 2, Wicked Wolves Series)
Fighting Flames
UNDER PRESSURE (Book 1, Rhinestone Cowgirls)
PRESSURE RISING (Book 2, Rhinestone Cowgirls)
PRESSURE POINT (Book 3, Rhinestone Cowgirls)
SECRET PRESSURE (Book 4, Rhinestone Cowgirls)
RESISTING PRESSURE (Book 5, Rhinestone Cowgirls)
Under the Mistletoe
Cowboy Paradise (Cowboys of Nirvana)
Ropin’ Trouble (Book 2, Cowboys of Nirvana)
Smoke. Fire. Cowboy (Book 3, Cowboys of Nirvana)
Kissed, Spurred, & Valentined (Book 4, Cowboys of Nirvana)
Cowboy is Mine (Book 5, Cowboys of Nirvana)
The Discreet Cowboy (Book 6, Cowboys of Nirvana)
Leather for Two, Wings of Steel MC
An Unexpected Hero (Buttermilk Valley)
A New Year’s Cowboy
Pride & Pleasure (Book 1, The KNIGHT Brothers)
Roman’s Choice (Book 1, Saddles & Second Chances)
Letting Go (Sable Hunter’s Hell Yeah! Kindle World)
Have you read Letting Go? Here’s the first chapter as a gift. Please grab your copy and find out how hard letting go can be…
CHAPTER ONE
Brooke Winslow heard a child’s laughter and looked across the lobby, spotting the little girl cheerfully playing with a set of building blocks. Her blonde hair hung in one long braid down her back and she wore a pretty yellow dress. She had beautiful bright green eyes. “Look, Mommy. I built a tower.”
Her mother glanced up from the magazine she was flipping through. “Oh sweetheart, what a stable tower it is too.”
Feeling a sudden twinge in her chest, Brooke turned away, barely able to catch her breath. Why was she doing this? She stood up, gained her equilibrium, then started for the glass doors that would take her back out to her car—away from the possibility of having a panic attack in front of the people waiting in the lobby. She’d gotten better at staying in control, but on occasion she found herself coming unglued from the demons that still haunted her.
She gripped the cold handle of the door just as she heard her name being called, “Ms. Winslow. The doctor will see you now.”
Her mind raced. Her heart skipped a beat. She could easily scurry out and skip the appointment. Being here didn’t help anyway. She hated opening up and talking about the tragedy that turned her world upside down. Why couldn’t people just understand that not everyone needed to talk about their feelings?
Fingers touched her shoulder and she spun around, coming face to face with the receptionist. “Ms. Winslow, Dr. Forester will see you now.”
Several people had turned to watch her. She wondered if they too wanted to break free?
Oh, phooey. Brooke had no other choice but to let go of the handle to freedom and follow the receptionist. Part way down the hall Brooke heard sniffling coming from a room to the right. She caught a glimpse of a woman with her head bowed and her shoulders shaking. Brooke’s breath hitched and she clenched her hands into fists. Crying happened a lot here. But not for her—not anymore. After three years, the tears had dried up. Too bad the memories were as fresh as newly picked blueberries.
“How are you today, Ms. Winslow?” the receptionist asked as she motioned for them to continue on their way.
The question came more as a distraction than civil conversation. “Peachy.”
If the other woman picked up on any sarcasm in the answer, she didn’t let on.
They stopped at the last doorway, Dr. Forester’s office—a forty-something, attractive blonde who always dressed in impeccable pant suits. She had also recently divorced her husband of ten years. They had no children and a mansion with lots of bedrooms and a tennis court. Brooke only knew this because she’d overheard the receptionist and a nurse discussing the details when they thought they were alone. Usually Brooke passed on eavesdropping, but it did break up the monotony of sitting in the lobby and staring at a watercolor.
On the threshold into the room, she hesitated. It wasn’t that she disliked Dr. Forester or her help, but what could be done? The past was over and the pain had embedded itself deep inside of Brooke’s bone marrow. Not even a therapist could rid her of the heartache, the memories, and the knowledge that she couldn’t save Jessie.
Many times in the last year, Brooke had picked up the phone to cancel her appointments, but then she’d hang up. Dr. Forester had become a crutch for Brooke.
“Brooke, come in.” Dr. Forester stood up from behind her desk and smoothed her black jacket. Brooke couldn’t remember ever seeing the elegant woman unruffled or wrinkled. Her clothes were pressed and spotless. Her makeup had been applied with a detailed hand, hiding any physical flaws that she might have. She had to have at least one, but up until now, Brooke hadn’t found it. Even the desk was tidy and clean.
Brooke crossed the room, aware of her own disheveled appearance. Before leaving the house she’d thrown on a T-shirt and jeans and pulled her hair up into a messy bun. If she cared, she would have gone for the right side of her closet where her nicer things were hung, but the problem was, she didn’t.
Sitting in the comfortable flowered chair next to the window that overlooked downtown Atlanta, she had to admit that she liked the view…and the overstuffed chair that gave her a cushiony hug. It was the highlight of her visits to her therapist. She placed her purse on the table.
Dr. Forester took the chair across from Brooke, her handy notepad and pen sitting on the coffee table between them, probably from her last client who she’d needled through their problems for answers. Brooke reminded herself that she needed to stay open to help, but there came a point when Dr. Forester would have to come to the conclusion, just as Brooke had, that some things just couldn’t be fixed. Instead, they had to be buried instead. She had the shovel and the spot for burial, but it just didn’t seem possible to start digging. Not yet.
“Good morning, Brooke.” Dr. Forester smiled and picked up her notebook, clicking the pen exactly three times, as always. Brooke guessed it was a form of energy release, or maybe a habit.
“Good morning.” Brooke smiled in return.
“How are you? Are you sleeping any better?”
Brooke crossed her legs, gearing herself up for reflecting on her issues and her messy emotions. “I’m now sleeping four hours straight so definitely an improvement.”
“Are you still taking the pills I prescribed?” Her blue eyes seemed to drill straight through Brooke.
“Not for a long time. I didn’t like how they made me feel.” Honesty was the best policy, but it probably wouldn’t settle well with Dr. Forester.
Although she was always careful not to show her displeasure in her body language, Dr. Forester actually had several wrinkles appear around her eyes. She leaned forward and met Brooke’s gaze. “I understand you don’t want to take medication, but you have to be willing to try. It’s been three years, Brooke. The accident…you must stop feeling guilty that you lived and they didn’t. Remember, the accident was investigated and the driver of the other vehicle ran a red light. You could have easily died too.”
“Dana,” Brooke whispered.
“Excuse me?”
“Dana was the woman’s name, and her daughter was Jessie.”
Dr. Forester looked down at her finely manicured hands for a second. “I can relate to how you must have felt—”
“No, you can’t. I assure you, no one knows until they’ve experienced it firsthand,” she muttered, clasping her hands together in her lap.
The other woman’s features softened slightly. “You know I’m here to help you. If only you’d let me.”
“Medication won’t help.”
“Time will help heal.”
Brooke laughed, but the sound was cold and grating, even to her own ears. “The screams…they were awful. The little girl was only four. She was crying for her mommy…who-who was already gone. I tried everything to reach the backseat—I tried…then I was pulled away.”
“You were saved.”
Brooke’s gaze automatically fell to her scarred hand, barely remembering the time she spent in the hospital while they worked on her. They’d told her she was lucky to have survived the car fire, but she hadn’t considered herself lucky, not when she’d never forget the face of Jessie, the frightened look in her eyes just seconds before the upside down car caught on fire. “This isn’t saved,” she murmured and tugged her sleeve down her wrist. Sometimes it was the only way to hide.
“I understand you feel that living when the mother and child didn’t is an act of punishment, and not fortune, but when you were struck by the vehicle, you suffered severe injuries. It was a miracle that you made it out of your car at all, not to mention having an opportunity to help Jessie and her mother. It’s difficult to see this now, but in time you will find happiness.”
“Happiness? These aren’t the only scars I carry.” Brooke tapped her wrist through the shirt.
“Have you thought about opening another flower shop? You had a lucrative business before…” She must have rethought mentioning the accident again.
“I lost interest. That’s why I sold the shop.”
“Have you started painting again? Painting can actually be very therapeutic.”
Brooke gave her head a quick shake. “No.” Before the accident she had lived and breathed her flower shop along with her painting. It was her livelihood—and her life. She had been coming home from a late night at work preparing arrangements for a wedding when her life had changed. She often wondered if things would have been different if she’d left work just a few minutes earlier or later, would the mother and child have lived?
After months of rehab and therapy on her hand and her mind, she tried to get back to her business, but sales had suffered. Deciding to sell had been one of the hardest decisions she’d ever made, but in the long run, the best choice. Once she was home with nothing to occupy her thoughts, she’d picked up a brush again, but her mind refused to cooperate. Dr. Forester had encouraged Brooke many times to start again, but saying it and doing it were two different things.
Dr. Forester eased back into her chair, one corner of her mouth lowering in discontent. “I worry that if you’re not getting enough sleep—”
“That I’ll try to do this again?” Brooke refused to look at the superficial white scar on her wrist. She wished she could take a scouring pad and scrub the reminders away of how lost she had been after the accident. Once the blade had cut her skin, she’d heard a voice, telling her that she must live. “Don’t worry, Dr. Forester. I’m not in the same place.”
The other woman nodded. “I realize you’re not.”
Although Brooke had
heard the words, she doubted how truthful the doctor was being. It seemed that no one looked at her the same, especially her next door neighbor, Janet, who’d walked in and found Brooke in the bath tub bleeding. They’d once been best friends, but there was an iron wall between them now. Maybe Janet didn’t want to be friends with someone who’d be willing to give up living, but no one understood the torment of watching a child, crying for her mother, and not being able to save her. Every waking hour, every dream and nightmare, every second was consumed with the screams…
“I know I must frustrate you, doc. That’s not my intention.”
Dr. Forester smiled—a kind smile that she didn’t offer too often. “You need a change, Brooke. Have you thought about taking a vacation? Visiting relatives? Flying to a remote island and dance like no one’s watching.”
“Is this your way of breaking up with me?” Brooke laughed, but it lacked humor.
“This is my way of saying when the old ways of doing things aren’t working, it’s high time to try something else. New surroundings might be a breath of fresh air.”
“Where would I go that memories can’t find me?”
When the session was over, Brooke drove to her apartment and stopped at her post office box. Shuffling through endless junk mail, she finally came to a formal looking envelope. And strangely, it was addressed from an attorney in Kerrville, Texas. The only person she knew in Texas was her grandmother who she hadn’t seen in more than twenty years. She used to visit when she was young until her mom and dad divorced. Her mom had gotten custody of her and Brooke never visited Kerrville again. Her grandmother wasn’t the only absent family though. She hadn’t seen her father in so long that she wasn’t sure what he would look like now. They just seemed to drift apart. As far as she knew, he worked on an oil rig in the middle of the ocean and was gone for months at a time. He never remarried or had any other children. Brooke’s mom, Rita, never spoke his name. In fact, she was so busy with her millionaire husband traveling to exotic locations that Brooke could easily forget that her mother wasn’t gone too. After the accident, Rita had visited for a short time, but she had planned an Italy vacation that couldn’t be canceled. So she’d written Brooke a sizable check, that she’d refused but no one says no to Rita, to help with medical bills and left on a midnight plane.
Seized by the Lawman Page 20
