Liar, Liar

by Winter Austin

  The smoke began to pour into the hallway, stinging her eyes and filling her mouth with its poison. But she refused to let up. This bastard was going to die.

  Searing pain stabbed her in the side. He kneed her again, and she lurched back, releasing her grip on his throat. Like a raging bull, he charged at her. Liza wrenched to the side and managed to dodge out of his reach. She had a fleeting glimpse of Quinn bowed over his father’s unmoving body. Pain like a thousands shards of glass sliced at Liza’s mind.

  She wheeled on Ripley. This time she waited as he came at her. When he was close, she took fistfuls of his clothing and allowed herself to fall backward. Using their momentum, she slammed into the floor and threw him over her body. He flipped, landing with a sickening thud into the old wet bar. Stephanie’s pictures and mementos crashed and shattered on the floor around Ripley.

  Liza rolled onto her feet slower than she had the previous times. When she straightened, Ripley was just rising himself. Behind him the flames licked at the kitchen walls. He looked like the devil incarnate.

  “Guess you were a more formidable opponent than I expected.” He spit a stream of blood. “Too bad it has to end this way, Agent Bartholomew.”

  “Who the hell are you?”

  He smiled, his painted lips smeared and bloody. “An enigma. You know, I liked that you called me Mr. Ripley. But where he got it wrong, I get it right.”

  Liza lowered her head, building the energy to do what needed to be done. “Even if we have to both die, I’m not letting you leave here alive.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Agent Bartholomew.” He reached behind his back and pulled out a second weapon. “I fully intend to leave here alive. You, on the other hand, can just die, bitch.”

  The front door crashed open. Liza had enough time to dive for cover. Multiple shots were fired at once. She rolled to her side as Ripley hit the floor on his knees, his gaze zeroed on her as he thumped down on his ass.

  A darkened figure strode into her view, bending down to rip the gun from Ripley’s limp hand, and then he turned to Liza.

  “Shane?”

  “Let’s get out of here.” He coughed, holding out his hand.

  The smoke had thickened, and heat was pouring from the kitchen.

  “Not yet.” Liza scrambled onto her knees and crawled over to Ripley. She grabbed the lapels of the coat and made the dying man look at her. “Where’s the money?”

  He sneered. “Like I’d ever tell you.”

  It hit her, like a 50 caliber slug. When he burned down the Avery home, he’d been screaming, “he cheated.” Gene might have died, but he’d outfoxed Ripley.

  “It’s gone. Isn’t it?”

  Ripley’s gaze glazed over. “They . . . all . . . lose.” His voice trailed off in a hiss. He slumped, and she let him fall.

  “Liza,” Shane coughed, “we’ve got to get out of here.”

  Her hand snapped back. “Kurt, Quinn.” Grabbing Shane’s arm, she jerked him down. He hit the floor next to her. “He shot Kurt; they’re in the hall.”

  Together, they crawled down the hall, finding Quinn slumped over his father. The smoke had gotten to her nephew. Shane flipped Kurt over, checking for a pulse. Smoke stung Liza’s eyes, clogging her airways, but there was no fire back here, yet.

  “He’s got a weak pulse.”

  Coughing, Liza pulled her shirt up over her mouth. “There’s a back door this way. Take Quinn, I’ve got Kurt.”

  Hooking her arms under Kurt’s, she shuffled backward, dragging his dead weight down the hall to the door. Shane carried Quinn’s limp body in his arms.

  “The door is too hot.”

  Panic and smoke inhalation were beginning to cloud Liza’s mind. They had to get out. No way in hell was she dying this way. It would take longer, but they’d use the front door. She turned to peer down the clouded hallway, wishing she could just scream and wake up from this nightmare. Flames now blocked that escape route. The fire had them trapped.

  Gagging on her fear and smoke, she looked up at Shane.

  “It’s not over,” he said.

  “How is it not? We can’t get out the front door, and if we open the back door, there’ll be a backdraft. There are no windows here.”

  “Can you get him into that bedroom?” He pointed at Kurt’s room.

  She was going to have to. “Go.”

  Gathering the last of her strength, Liza dragged Kurt over the plush carpet, leaving a bloody trail in his wake. Shane slammed the door, buying them a few precious minutes. Liza’s hopes plummeted when she saw the towering flames outside.

  Ripley was going to win after all. She would perish here, in a fire, like all the others, and he’d still get away with it. She watched Shane lay Quinn on the bed. At least she wouldn’t be alone. She had the three most important men in her life, all of whom she loved. Shane turned back to her, and clarity cleared her fogged mind.

  Standing, she walked over to him and grabbed hold of his coat. “I love you.”

  If their situation hadn’t been so dire, his shocked expression would have been comical. But Liza didn’t have time for humor. She kissed him, hard. Shane returned it with fervor but pushed her back too soon.

  “Hold that thought, darlin’.” With that, he climbed onto Kurt’s bed and shoved open the window. “We’re not out of this yet.” He held out his hand to her. “Ladies first.”

  “You’re not going to be able to get Kurt through the window. Your injury—”

  “Is going to have to suffer. Stop coming up with excuses, Liza, and get your ass out the window.”

  No more arguments from her. She pushed out the screen and crawled backward through the gap, dropping the short distance to the ground. She had a few moments to check on the oxygen-hungry flames roaring behind her. Off in the distance she could hear the faint sounds of sirens. Help was coming. Now if they could get out of the ring of fire, it would make all the difference in the world.

  “Incoming.”

  She grabbed Quinn’s legs and guided his limp body to the ground, laying him off to the side. Then she turned back to the window and prepped to catch her foster brother’s weight. She could make out Shane struggling to lift the man onto the bed and up through the window. Behind her the sirens were getting louder. As was the roar of the fire.

  Hurry up!

  First the feet, then legs, and most of Kurt’s torso came through the window. Liza did her best to bear his weight as he slid out of the window into her waiting arms, but she couldn’t stand up to the sudden shift and fell back with her brother on top of her. Wiggling out from under him was proving harder than she expected. The lack of sleep, the fight in the house, the smoke, and fear had zapped her. Liza lay on the ground, struggling to breathe.

  This is it. I’m done for.

  Suddenly the weight lifted.

  “I told you this isn’t over yet.” Shane squatted down, and, as if he’d been doing a dead-weight lift, slung Kurt over his shoulders and hefted her brother up. “Grab the kid and follow me.”

  Heaving her own heavy body up, she cradled her nephew’s body in her arms and turned to Shane. The sight of him with the fire as a backdrop was enough to make her whole body produce one last strong shot of adrenaline. He might never consider himself a hero, but right now, the cowboy was living up to his larger-than-life persona.

  Shane led the way back to the sidewalk. Now they could see the fire trucks. Someone hollered, “I see someone!”

  Next thing Liza knew water sprayed over her and Quinn, cooling her overheated body and making her sputter. A path was cleared for them to cross through the ring of fire. Liza stumbled past the flames, landing on her knees feet away from the nearest human being.

  She felt Quinn being lifted from her arms. With his weight gone, she gave up. Her brain briefly registered the feel of ground meeting her face. Darkness shrouded her mind, and she embraced it.

  Blessed sleep.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Three Weeks Later


  Working the wire tightener like a mad man, Shane wiped the sweat from his forehead as he cranked. With the barbed wire pulled tight, he pounded the clamp deep into the wood post, wrapping the loose end around the post once, and drove another clamp into the wrapped length. Releasing the crank, he let it drop to the ground and took a moment to stretch his sore back.

  His mount grazed nearby, completely ignoring the herd of mares and foals in the distance. Shane rested his arm on the top of the post and watched his herd flick at the early summer flies and graze on the deep green grass.

  It was good to breathe fresh air and let the stress of the last few weeks sweat away. After rescuing Liza and her family from the fire, Shane had been whisked off for an exam that led to a few breathing treatments. Before he left the hospital in Iowa City, he checked on an unconscious Liza, who had been admitted for smoke inhalation and bruised ribs. The doctor had assured Shane she would be fine, which were the words he needed to hear.

  Those moments before their escape, with the fire pressing in on them, he’d been pissed. All this time, all those years in war, trying to die, wishing he could die, and God saw fit to never grant him that damn wish. Shane finally, finally, found a reason to move on with his life, and some pyromaniac nut-job was going to wipe him out. He would never know if Liza had felt the same way. In the seconds before Liza kissed him, Shane had realized the truth. He had fallen in love with her.

  And that scared the hell out of him. So, he hadn’t gone back to Cedar Rapids to see her since. She needed time to recover. And he needed time to think over what she’d said, and figure out if his heart and head were in sync.

  Word had reached Shane that her foster brother would live. The bullet had hit a lung, but the way he fell saved him from suffocating on his blood. His son was recovering from the shock of the attack and wouldn’t leave his father’s side. The Bartholomews, Liza and Kurt’s adoptive parents, had stepped in to care for the boy and his father while Liza herself recovered.

  Shane’s body had healed, the wound nothing more than a scar and a memory. Her admission of love, however, stayed with him. Surely it was some kind of last rites confession.

  It only made sense.

  Break time over, Shane resumed his fence mending.

  The county was putting in overtime to repair the damage done to the sheriff’s department, and while they were at it, the council decided maybe it was time for an upgrade. Shane gave them no objections. For the time being, his crew was working out of a construction zone and their vehicles.

  When word broke of what happened to the school district’s finances, heads rolled. The county was in the throes of a new election as all seven of the school board members had resigned amid the scandals. And Gene Avery had had the last laugh. What Liza figured out as Ripley died had been true. The stolen money had been tucked away in a mysterious account at the bank where Ripley/Roslin had “worked.” All that time, Gene had been stealing the school’s money, probably under Ripley’s commands, but hid it from him. Neil Lundy had discovered the truth when he received a letter mailed the day Gene had died. An old-fashioned “gotcha!” that wasn’t about to save Lundy’s seat on the school board.

  Reporters and the public had badgered Shane to give his take on the news, and he gave them all the same line: “Not my job to decide what the public wants. I’m just doing my job as the sheriff.”

  Lundy’s secret remained that. Shane had no desire to dredge up more bad news for anyone else involved with the whole Avery/Ripley embezzlement and murders. Far as Shane was concerned, he’d let sleeping dogs lie.

  Seemed the longer he continued on as sheriff, the more the dirt and ugliness that had long been buried in McIntire County came to the surface. One thing was clear—he’d keep cleaning up the residue each time it came up. Because it was what he was good at, and as long as the voting public thought so, he’d keep doing it.

  Maybe that was why he couldn’t muster the courage to face Liza. She wanted to be done with law enforcement; he had no desire to leave. And if he was truthful with himself, she hadn’t made the effort to come see him or even call. The more time that passed, the more he had to admit the God’s honest truth: Liza had blurted those words of love because she thought she was going to die. She meant nothing by them.

  The second wire replaced, he moved on to the next hole. With the crank in place, he was running the wire through when his horse whinnied. He stopped and looked over his shoulder at an answering whinny.

  Two riders crested the hill, halting at the top. One rider pointed his way and then turned back their horse. He let got of the wire and turned as the second rider continued down the hill. As she rode closer, his heart began hammering away at his ribs.

  Could it be?

  The mount picked up the pace, jarring his rider as he trotted right up to his companion and skid to a halt. Liza righted herself and blew at a wayward coil.

  “You, Shane Hamilton, are one difficult man to locate.” She swung down, landing with a hop and skip back from his horse. Freed, the horse wandered over to his partner to nuzzle.

  “What are you doing here?” Oh, that was intelligent.

  She chuckled. “Looking for you.” She strolled through the tall grass, examining the herd over his shoulder. “So, this is where you keep the rest of your horses?”

  She was a sight. Snug-fitting jeans, a bright yellow blouse, and boots. Her hair was tucked back in a loose ponytail, the freed coils framing her face under a wide-brimmed hat. His sore eyes drank her in.

  Her gaze returned to him when he didn’t answer. “Earth to Shane.”

  “Why are you here, Liza?”

  Hooking her hands on her hips, she cocked her head to the side and regarded him. “As I recall, there was a moment when we were trying to escape that fire that I told you something. And you said, and I quote: ‘Hold that thought, darlin’.’ Well, I’m resuming that thought.”

  She moved closer, the scent of warm grass and dirt mingling with her natural one of sweet and spicy. He ached to touch her, but what if she turned out to be only his imagination? Why else would she be here? This was not a place for Liza Bartholomew. He wasn’t the man for her.

  She touched his chest. His body went quiet and still. Her hand ran up and along his neck, cupping it as she drew flush to him, her fingers toying with the long curls at the nape of his neck.

  “You smell like a hard-working man.”

  “That tends to happen when you sweat.”

  Her smile was coy and seductive, full of promise. “I could get used to it.”

  “Did you mean it?” he asked softly.

  “Every word of it. When I say something, I never do it lightly. And telling you I love you, I meant every blessed word of it. I don’t hand over my heart to just anyone.” She massaged the corded muscles of his neck. “That’s why I had to come. I had to know if you feel the same way.”

  And that’s what the heart of the matter came down to. Why he had to take these last three weeks to himself. He had to know if he was ready to move on from Cheyenne, bury his past, and take the next step. The longer he was away from Liza, the more he missed her, ached for her.

  Liza had been able to look past his defenses and see the man he’d hidden from the rest of the world. A man too afraid to love again for fear his heart would shatter for good, killing him. He hadn’t been willing to take those chances. And what had she done? She’d taken his broken heart and mended it. He was a different man, a better man.

  He loved her.

  So he’d finally removed Cheyenne’s ring and given it away. And then he’d waited. Blasted fool, he should have just gone to Liza and told her. But that was neither here nor there, because she was finally here. With him.

  Tugging off his gloves, he tucked them in his belt and then drove his fingers into Liza’s hair, knocking the hat from her head. “I should have told you then, but I wasn’t sure.” He studied those deep umber eyes, losing himself in them. “I had to know before I said anything. My heart has
been beat up, banged up, and scarred. It never knew what it wanted until you came along.” He pressed a light kiss to her lips. “All the love I have left in it is yours if you want it.”

  She smiled. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” She kissed him, knocking him flat.

  In the scheme of things, sixteen years sober hadn’t been all that bad. Shane had something now he hadn’t back then.

  Perspective.

  And the love of a damn good woman.

  Really, that was all a man needed. It was all his for the taking.

  Acknowledgments

  First and forever foremost, to my Father above, who is the rock on which I stand.

  This book created the most headaches, stress-induced panic attacks, and reality checks I have ever had in my short career as an author. And yet, it brought about the solid support of some utterly fantastic people in my life. This is my eighth book, and I feel like it was the best book I’ve written so far. All because of these teammates.

  Marisa Corvisiero, a truly awesome agent who helped me get back on track with the original concept in one phone call during my lunch hour.

  Rachel Smith, who is the other half of my brain. She was just as shocked at the ending as I was, and that’s saying a lot for both of us, because we normally can see the other’s path before it happens. There’s no better writing partner.

  Tara, Julie, and the whole production team at Crimson Romance. I’ve been with the house since it opened its doors, and it has been a fantastic ride, right up to when we became a part of Simon and Schuster. Thank ya’ll!

  Always a big part of why I do this, my family. In the writing of this book, I watched my two eldest graduate from high school then move on to the next phase in their lives; one son followed his dad’s footsteps into the military and the other son to college to pursue a career as a tradesman. My daughter has become a young woman with goals that blow my mind. And my youngest son is beginning the journey of becoming a young man.