Shot Through the Heart (Crimson Romance)

by D'Ann Lindun

  “I’ll get the steaks.” He moved by, and she caught a whiff of his scent. No cologne, just the fresh, clean smell of soap and water. Nice.

  The steak was a little underdone, the salad limp, but Laramie couldn’t focus on the food. Cupping her chin in her hand, she closed her eyes, fighting to stay awake. She realized she had fallen asleep when she woke with her left cheek on the table and Derrick standing over her with a look of concern. “You need to go to bed.”

  “We need to figure out — ”

  He shushed her with a finger on her lips. “Nothing. Not tonight.”

  “The dishes — ”

  “Will keep.”

  “Show me the couch?”

  “No way. You’re sleeping with me, where I can keep you safe.”

  For her moment her heart stopped, then jumpstarted. Did he have more on his mind than sleep? “Okay.”

  He led her to his bedroom and opened the door. He turned toward her, and their eyes met.

  A fraction of an inch separated them. The pulse in her throat fluttered, and she closed her eyes, suddenly shy. He tipped her chin up, and she opened her eyes, her gaze locked on his mouth. “You’re going to fall asleep on your feet if you don’t get some rest.” He reached around her hip and opened the door. “Go to bed. I’m going to make some calls.”

  “Goodnight,” she whispered as disappointment coursed through her.

  Inside the bedroom, she stretched out on the bed and stared at the ceiling. So tired she couldn’t stay awake a few minutes before, now she couldn’t sleep. Why didn’t Derrick kiss her? Maybe he liked a woman who wore skimpy underthings and spent her days primping and pampering herself. Someone opposite of her.

  Someone who wouldn’t get him shot.

  Restless, she got up and headed for the kitchen. As she poured herself a glass of lemonade from the fridge, she heard a faint noise from the living room. The hair at the base of her neck stood up, and she tiptoed toward the sound. Peering around the corner, she saw Derrick on the sofa watching a TV program, Turbo at his side.

  “Everything okay?” she asked.

  “Sure. Just couldn’t sleep.” He motioned to the floor, and the dog jumped down. “Sit with me?”

  She sat beside him and leaned her head on his shoulder. “Me either.”

  “You’ve been through a lot.”

  “So have you.” She sighed. “All because of me.”

  “Stop that.” He took her hand in his and traced circles on her palm. “The only person to blame for all this is your brother. You didn’t do anything, he did.”

  Barely able to concentrate due to his ministrations, she said, “But you got dragged into a mess that isn’t yours — ”

  He shook his head, cutting her off. “No.”

  “I don’t know what to do,” she confessed. “We can’t go to the Cliffside police. And there’s Mom and Dad. I’ve got to tell them about Julie. I don’t know if my dad’s health can stand a blow like this.”

  “I don’t know what to do about your folks, but I can help with the cops. I was sitting here thinking about who to contact, and it occurred to me I know a state policeman. Not well, but enough to approach him, I think. His name is Brendan Cook, and we played football together, although he’s a couple years older than me.”

  “We can trust him?”

  He nodded. “I think so. From what I know of Brendan, he’s a straight shooter.”

  “Where is he based?”

  “His territory includes both Cliffside and Santa Anita. We’ll go see him in the morning.” He continued to hold her hand, and she shivered when he ran his thumb over her knuckles.

  “Couldn’t we just call him?”

  “We could, but I want to see him in person.” Derrick pulled her hand, reeling her close. “Talk face to face.”

  He brushed a strand of hair off her cheek. His fingers were gentle, and she tipped her head toward his caress. He slipped his fingers behind her neck and brought her lips to his. The kiss, like his touch, was tender.

  She splayed her fingers across his chest. Under them, his heart pounded. Derrick’s mouth urged hers open, and their tongues danced together. He lifted her so that she straddled his lap. She pressed against him until his erection rose against her belly. A longing so fierce it rocked her took Laramie by surprise.

  She reached for the buttons on his shirt. Snapping them open, she stroked his chest. Fine hairs slid under her fingers, and she traced them to his waistband. She teased him by running her fingertips along the rigid length of him. He moaned into her mouth, making her soar with womanly power.

  His palms skimmed over her ribs and outer swell of her breasts. She hurried him by lifting the hem of her camisole and tugging it over her head. He dipped his mouth to a nipple. She wrapped her hands around his neck and leaned back to give him full access. Holding both breasts with work-roughened hands, he teased her nipples with lips and tongue until she dug her fingers into his shoulders.

  She couldn’t, wouldn’t fall in love with him.

  But she could forget … for a little while.

  Desperate to be closer, Laramie unsnapped the button on his jeans, then slid the zipper down. With his legs trapped between her thighs, taking his jeans and boxers off wasn’t easy, but together, they freed his erection. He kicked off his boots; his clothing stayed wrapped around his knees. Winding her fingers around him, Laramie whispered in his ear, “Very nice.”

  His chuckle vibrated against her neck.

  Laramie giggled, too. But her laughter faded when he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of her borrowed sweats and tugged. With her legs straddled over his, there was no way her pants were coming down.

  Reluctantly, she pulled away and stood with her hands at her sides.

  Derrick slid forward on the couch and placed his hands on her hips. With a yank, her sweats fell to her ankles, and she kicked them away. Deliberately teasing, she slid the thin scrap of lace down her legs one tantalizing inch at a time until she stood before him in all her glory. As he looked, her nipples pebbled and the vee between her legs dampened.

  Derrick pulled her forward so that she stood between his thighs.

  Resting her hands on his shoulders, she bent forward and kissed him again. When he slipped his palms up her behind, she shivered. Her shivers turned torturous when his tongue dipped into her navel. “Make love to me, Derrick,” she begged.

  With a move that shocked her, he swooped her up and placed her on the couch. Lowering himself over her, his erection strained for the sky. Laramie wrapped both hands around it and slid them up and down.

  “I can’t last much longer,” Derrick groaned. He nudged her legs apart with his knees and positioned himself to enter her. Laramie closed her eyes and shifted, ready for him.

  • • •

  Turbo barked loud and sharp.

  For a long second, Derrick ignored him. But when Turbo’s barking reached a fever pitch, Derrick groaned and stood. “I’ll be right back. I better see what’s bothering him.”

  Laramie didn’t say anything, but he knew by the sudden leap of fear into her eyes, strong enough to douse even their passion, she thought Lawrence was skulking about. Derrick pulled on his jeans, and went to the gun cabinet. Choosing a pistol, he loaded and cocked it. He looked at Laramie. “Stay put while I find out what’s going on.”

  “Be careful.”

  Giving her what he hoped was a confident grin, he said, “Don’t worry.”

  She bit her lip and wrapped the blanket from the back of the couch around her bare breasts. “Okay.”

  Slipping through the dark house, Derrick went to the back door where Turbo stood guard. The dog’s hair stood on end, and he lunged time and again at the door. Derrick motioned for the dog to lie down. Turbo obeyed, but continued to growl low. Making sure the lock was secure, Derrick moved to the small square window above the washing machine and peeked out. He couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary, but the size of the window made it difficult to get a good look.
r />   He took a last look at the lock and motioned to Turbo to come. Making his way through the house quiet as a whisper, Derrick went to the front door. Laramie knelt on the couch, her face pale and her lips stretched in a thin, tight line. She clutched a pillow tightly.

  Derrick’s gut twisted into a tight knot of rage. Who was Lawrence Porter to put this woman through hell? When Derrick got hold of him, he would wring his scrawny neck. He yanked the front door open so hard it slammed against the wall. “Come out, Porter. Show yourself.”

  Silence greeted him.

  At his knee, Turbo whined.

  “Come on, you bastard!” Derrick moved out of the doorway and looked around, but nothing moved. The barn stood like a silent sentinel, the outbuildings like foot soldiers. Turbo growled. Whoever was out there still lurked. “Stay,” he told the dog.

  Lifting the pistol, Derrick stepped outside. He slipped alongside the house, searching the dark for Lawrence.

  Above his head, the yard light exploded.

  Derrick hit the dirt and belly crawled toward the lilac bushes edging the walk. He rolled under the branches and shouted, “Come out, Porter. Stand up against a man, not a woman.”

  A blast at Derrick’s feet threw dirt over his legs. Damn. Another inch closer and the bullet would’ve hit him. Lawrence meant business. Desperate to see the other man, Derrick searched the dark, but he couldn’t see anything but shadows.

  A breeze stirred the pine trees, and something moved among them. He lifted the pistol, but couldn’t get a clear view. Unwilling to shoot into the dark and hit something he didn’t mean to, Derrick didn’t fire. For what seemed ages, he lay still. Sweat trickled down his brow and his back as he waited. He prayed Laramie didn’t come looking for him.

  In the distance, he heard an engine roar to life, then a vehicle drive away.

  He jumped to his feet and ran inside.

  Laramie met him, her face pale and eyes wide. She was dressed again. “I heard gunshots. Are you all right?”

  He took her in his arms and smoothed a hand down her back. “Hey, there, it’s okay. I’m fine. Lawrence shot at me, but missed.”

  “I’m pissed off, Derrick.” She looked up at him and her eyes told him another story. They were filled with unspoken fear.

  Derrick felt sucker punched. She had been so brave, but enough was enough. Here, in his house, she should feel safe. Instead of keeping her secure, he had let his hormones take over and put both of them in danger. He wouldn’t let it happen again. “I’m sorry.”

  “What if your friend doesn’t believe us?” Tears shimmered in her big brown eyes and he fought the urge to get up right that moment and track Lawrence to the end of the earth, if that’s what it took to put a smile back on her face.

  “He will.” No matter what it took, Derrick vowed to make Brendan take them seriously.

  “But if he doesn’t, I don’t know what to do. I can’t keep dragging you down with me. I can’t go home with Lawrence trying to kill me every five minutes. I don’t have anywhere to go or anyone to turn to.” She buried her face in her hands and sobs wracked her body. He wrapped his arms around her and held her until her tears subsided.

  When she looked up with a tear-streaked face, he smoothed a hand over her cheek. “You’re not going anywhere. Until Lawrence is locked up behind bars you’re staying right here.”

  “I can’t ask any more of you.”

  “You didn’t. I offered.” For the first time since Cheryl had dragged him through the grinder, Derrick’s heart thawed a little. Instead of taking from him, Laramie wanted to protect him. This woman wasn’t acting, she was the real deal.

  Someone he could love.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Laramie didn’t realize she was holding her breath until Derrick turned his pickup into her driveway. Not sure what she expected, relief flooded her when everything seemed normal. The elms and weeping willows shaded the drive and front porch of the house, just like always.

  From the middle of the seat, Turbo stood and cocked his head to the side. He gave one of his little yips.

  Derrick ran a hand down his back. “What’s wrong, boy?”

  Laramie’s skin prickled. “Do you think my brother’s around?”

  “No, but look.” Derrick grinned broadly and pointed toward the side of the house.

  Laramie followed his gaze and nearly fell out of the truck. Her two Australian shepherds tore around the corner of the house, barking like crazy. Ripping at the door handle, Laramie couldn’t open the door fast enough. Falling to her knees, she wrapped her arms around her wriggling, ecstatic dogs. “My babies.”

  The dogs covered her damp face with doggy kisses until she laughed. “Okay, stop.”

  At her shoulder, Derrick said, “I take it these are your friends?”

  She nodded, still hugging her precious pets.

  Turbo waited by Derrick’s leg until she stood, then he moved forward and the three dogs sniffed noses. Laramie couldn’t take her eyes off her fur kids. She feared blinking would make them disappear.

  “Maybe your horses are okay, too.” Laramie wanted nothing more, but that would mean returning to the barn and dredging up her fear from that night. Still, she nodded. She wouldn’t abandon Pale, Dancer, or Nightmare.

  As they headed toward the barn, the dogs on her heels, she spotted the horses in the pasture. When the horses reached the fence, she examined them with trembling hands. “They’re fine.”

  “Good. Do you think they’ll be okay here while we go talk to Brendan?”

  “Yes.”

  Derrick placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently. “You okay?”

  She swallowed hard. “Sure.”

  “You ready to see Brendan?”

  She glanced down at her dirty shirt. Still wearing her borrowed sweat pants, she had refused to go outside in the silk camisole. If someone saw her, the gossip would never end. When word got around about what Lawrence had done, he would be notorious forever. She hated the thought of it. “I need to change.”

  • • •

  Derrick opened her front door and waited for her to step across the threshold. On wobbly legs, she passed the last place she had seen Julie alive. Laramie looked away. The radio in the kitchen played softly, but her sunlit house seemed like a tomb. She didn’t think she could ever stay here again. Everywhere she looked, memories of Julie filled her mind — the couch where they’d watched countless movies, the staircase where the two strung Christmas lights, the window where they’d stood together and taken pictures for senior prom.

  “You okay?” Derrick’s voice was filled with compassion.

  She nodded, not trusting her voice to work right then.

  “What do you need? I can get it.”

  Although she appreciated the offer, she had to do this herself. “I’ll do it, thanks.”

  “Don’t touch more than you have to,” he warned. “Brendan will probably want to look over everything.”

  “I won’t. I’ll be right back.” She raced up the steps to her bedroom with Zeke and Zephyr on her heels. Almost ripping off the borrowed clothes, she grabbed a plain green T-shirt and a pair of jeans and threw them on. After tugging on a pair of comfortable boots, she felt almost like herself again. Without taking time to sort through them, she tossed a few shirts and jeans in a duffle bag. From her top drawer, she grabbed enough under things and socks for a week. In the bathroom, she gathered a few toiletries.

  Finished, she paused for a minute and looked at her big, comfy bed. Covered with a floral print bedspread, it had been her refuge. Now all she wanted was to curl up in Derrick’s four-poster bed with him. Warmth spread through her belly. Startled by the intensity of the feeling, she grabbed the footboard for a minute.

  They hadn’t finished what they started last night, and she wondered why. After he’d chased off Lawrence, they had gone to bed — she in his bed, him on the sofa — and she’d laid awake most of the night, tossing and turning with frustration.

 
Had Derrick decided he didn’t want to make love after all? Or had he just been too wrapped up in the chaos to get back into it?

  “You okay?” Derrick called, breaking into her thoughts.

  “Coming.” She grabbed her cell phone from the dresser, and taking a last look around, motioned the dogs to follow and sped down the stairs.

  She found Derrick standing in front of the fireplace, studying a family portrait. Laramie couldn’t make herself look at the picture of her parents, Lawrence, and Laramie, taken while she and her brother were still in elementary school. Back then, they had been a normal, all-American family.

  “Do you have any family?” Surprised she hadn’t asked before, she waited anxiously for his answer.

  “My folks moved away a few years ago. Florida was always their dream. When they turned over the ranch to me, they went.” He shrugged. “Not for me, but it makes them happy. I don’t have any siblings.”

  “Any kids?” She didn’t know why his answer mattered so much. It wasn’t like they had a future together.

  “No, thank God.”

  Surprised at the vehemence in his voice, she blinked. “You don’t like kids?”

  “I love kids, would have liked a whole houseful, but not with my ex-wife. She was poison.” A deep frown lined his face. “I’m thankful we didn’t have any kids to get dragged through the mud when she left.”

  Laramie picked up a paperweight and twisted it in her hands. Not sure what to say, she waited.

  “Look, Laramie, you’re probably going to hear the gossip anyway, so here’s the story. My ex-wife and her husband cooked up a scheme for her to marry me and take everything I owned. They cleaned out my bank account and sold a bunch of my cattle on the sly. I didn’t find out until after she took off, and I started doing some checking. You saw how the law in Santa Anita reacts. They don’t get excited about too much.

  “I came over here for help, and your brother tracked them down in Vegas, but they’d already blown most of my money. There’s no way to get it back. The only bright spot is they are locked up for a while, but not as long as they deserve.”