by Addison Fox
“It’s Belle.”
“Of course it’s Belle.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
The soft smile that ghosted across his sister’s lips was matched by the mysterious twinkle that lit up her eyes. “It’s always been Belle.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s not the height of lunacy.”
“I believe the quote goes something along the lines of ‘love makes fools of us all.’ Isn’t that the one?”
“There’s foolish and then there’s madness. That’s just the way of things between us.”
“She’s a levelheaded person. You’re usually a levelheaded person. What happened? Maybe I can translate for you.”
“What’s there to translate? We came to an understanding.”
“By understanding, I assume you mean sex?”
“I’m not discussing that with you.”
“Oh, good.” Arden rubbed her hands together. “When I finally start getting some again, I won’t discuss that with you either.”
He did just fine to avoid thinking about his baby sister in those terms, even as he accepted she was an adult. But did she have to go there? “Can’t you cut me a break?”
“Why? This is fun. But now, back to our discussion.” She picked up her mug. “You were about to tell me what you did to make Belle mad.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You implied it,” she said, her words as tart as a lemon icebox pie.
“You’re inferring it.”
“And you’re stalling. What’d you do?”
Clearly he had done something that morning, but to hell if he knew what it was. One minute he and Belle were having a moment, words of love dancing in his head like crazy cupids itching to break free, and the next she was slipping from his arms and accusing him of lacking understanding and support.
Of being the same damn jerk he was ten years ago.
The anger that had cooled when he dropped the mug roared back in full force.
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Then why is she upset?”
“How the hell should I know? And why are you taking her side? What about my anger? What about how I feel? She started in on me before I even knew what was happening and in moments I’m the bad guy. The dumb Neanderthal who can’t accept her life’s ambitions or goals.”
Arden settled her mug and sat back, all humor and wry teasing vanishing in a heartbeat. “And now we’re getting somewhere.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what it sounds like. What did you two actually discuss? Give me the Neanderthal parts and all.”
When he said nothing, Arden leaned closer. “I’m on your side, Tate. Truly, I am. So tell me.”
“I told her that I worried about her. That my biggest fear about how she put her life in danger trying to convict the scum of the universe was going to happen, whether we were together or not.”
“And then what?”
“And then she was telling me how unsupportive I was and how she couldn’t break up with me a second time. That she can’t go through that again. Hell, Arden!” He pushed back his chair, unable to sit any longer. “I can’t go through that again either. It damn near killed me the first time. The only thing that helped was I was so focused on cleaning up Dad’s mess that I had something to pay attention to. A goal that needed my full focus. I don’t know what the hell I’d do now.”
“So you walked away.”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Because she asked me to. Because she thinks I don’t support her.”
“Well, if we’re going to set the record straight, you don’t.”
“Sure I do.”
Arden crossed her arms, the gesture as familiar now as it was when they were kids. If she’d only had her hair in pigtails, he might have actually thought they’d transported back to twenty years earlier. “Then what did you say to her?”
Before he could claim ignorance, she added, “General gist. I should be able to translate from there.”
“I already told you. It bothers me that she’s in danger, but she’s in danger anyway, so we might as well be together.”
Arden’s arms remained folded and he could have sworn she barely suppressed an eye roll but she said nothing other than, “And then what?”
“She goes off about how I think what she does is a waste. That there are always more bad guys to catch. More of the mess humans make of their life.”
“Which, in your defense, isn’t completely wrong,” Arden said. “There are always more bad guys to catch. It doesn’t mean choosing to catch them is a waste. I like feeling safe in my own home. I suspect the rest of the Pass feels the same way.”
And right there—that simple point—knocked his anger down a few pegs. “And then I tossed a few examples in her face.”
“Examples?”
“The bad situations that probably still haunt her.”
“How’d that work out for you?”
“I’m here instead of in Belle Granger’s shower. With her.”
“Ewww.” Arden held up a hand. “Stop. Please.”
“Sorry. Low blow. Just needed to get back at you for the sex comment.”
“Consider us even.” Arden eyed him from her spot at the table, that blue gaze steely and raw. “Anything else?”
“I might have suggested she gives up her humanity for the dregs of society. Like a trade-off, her good for their bad.”
“Oh, Tate.”
He braced for censure, so the tenderness in her gaze and the soft smile that looked so like their mother’s was enough to take a few more of those pegs out from beneath his feet.
“Don’t you understand? That’s exactly why she’s so special. She doesn’t give up her good. She shares it with others.”
Blindsided and heartsick, Tate groped for the back of his chair and fell hard into the seat. “What?”
“She’s not giving up the good. She’s using what she has to make things better.”
Like the proverbial hand his sister was always threatening to level across his head, she’d managed the same with only a few words.
Of course Belle’s good made the bad better. Her good made everything better. Including him.
Always him.
Chapter 17
Belle had slogged through the past few days, still shell-shocked over what had transpired with Tate. After she’d put an end to their sexy coffee talk, she’d gotten ready and dragged herself to work and refused to think about what she’d given up.
Or, more to the point, what she’d sent away.
Love.
She loved Tate and no amount of self-righteous anger or frustration or worry that the future only held more heartache could change that fact. She’d considered heading over to the ranch more than once since Thursday morning. Had thought about what she’d say and how she’d try to make him see reason. Had even thought about telling him how she felt.
And each time, she stopped herself.
Hadn’t they proven once before that love wasn’t enough? Love wasn’t their problem and never had been.
Which meant that she was right back to square zero, throwing herself into work and trying to run from her problems. And, she admitted, staring at her paper cup full of coffee that had long gone cold, spending yet another Saturday at work.
When she’d pulled into her driveway after leaving the Rivera crime scene, Tate was parked and waiting for her in his truck, and she’d believed they’d turned a corner. The hours that had followed in his arms had only reinforced that fact.
And then it had all vanished over coffee.
She hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d told him that surviving their breakup had been the hardest experience of her life. Worse than growing up with an addict
for a mother and the responsibility that came with that. And worse than the guilt that had haunted her after her mother had passed.
Could she have done enough?
Could she have tried harder?
Those questions had faded over time as she came to accept her mother’s challenges, but oddly enough, they were the same questions that had haunted her over her relationship with Tate. With her mother, she’d finally accepted the truth—that she’d done all she could and had tried her best to help.
With Tate? She’d never been sure. Had there been an alternative to walking away from each other?
It had taken a long time, but over the past year, she’d finally begun to believe that things had simply worked out as they were meant to. That no matter how powerful their attraction to each other was, they were obviously supposed to move on in life separately.
And then Jesse Abrogato’s murder had thrown them right back together. Lovers unable to resist the lure of one another.
Since her own company held little solace and even fewer answers, she snagged her cup and opted for another hit of caffeine. It likely wouldn’t remove the hamster wheel of her thoughts but it might give her just enough of a jolt to push through the last of her paperwork on the Rivera murder.
The chief had taken the lead on the overall report but had asked her to cover some of the interviews with park observers, Rivera’s neighbors and his family. She’d wrapped up her list the day before and was now going through the tedious process of writing up her notes. Notes that had taken a back seat while she’d worked on the report of the evidence she’d discovered and logged on Reynolds property. Just that morning, Chief Corden’s commendation of her strong police work had come winging back in her email along with a promise that he’d spend even more time with her report and also share it with Agent Ross.
She’d done all she could. And Monday, she’d share her suspicions about the gold pendant and see how her chief wanted to handle things.
Belle reran her interviews through her mind as she walked into the kitchen at the back of the precinct and put her cup into the brewing station. The contraption was large and overwrought and probably more than a bit of overkill for a single cup of coffee, but it had been a donation from one of the local restaurants a few months back when they’d remodeled and Belle loved everything about the hot water and freshly ground beans.
It also beat the swill they used to have by a country mile—or more like a cross-country flight—and she was grateful for the thoughtful donation.
The brewer went to work, the distinct grinding of beans murmuring in the air as she mentally rewound one of her conversations from the day before. She was waiting on a callback from one of the Rivera interview subjects and had put an impromptu call in to Jesse Abrogato’s sister in the meanwhile.
The discovery of the jewelry piece still bothered her, the implications to Captain Grantham significant. If it was his jewelry, obviously they had a far bigger problem on their hands than they could have ever imagined.
And if it wasn’t...
Then they still had a clue toward finding a killer. Abrogato’s sister confirmed that her brother didn’t own any religious articles and that the gold pendant wasn’t his. Whatever else he’d been in life, his sister’s insisted that the man wasn’t religious and had refused to pretend he was with external trappings. That had removed the suspicion that the piece was the victim’s.
Tate had already confirmed the day she made the discovery that it didn’t look like anything his men wore, which brought her right back to Russ.
There still wasn’t concrete evidence on Captain Grantham, but she’d taken a bit of time to look at her email and call records from the timing of all the previous murders. Not only had he been out of the office this week when Rivera was killed, but Grantham had also been unaccounted for around the time of each of the three prior murders.
Funny how it hadn’t seemed odd at the time, yet now seemed like a glaring, gaping hole. He was a man who communicated with his team regularly. Emails, texts and the daily requirements of leading a team of people ensured he was in close contact. Yet during those windows, it was as if he’d vanished.
The coffee maker sputtered out the last of her coffee, steam rising in its wake. She took the cup, careful to hold the hot paper by the rim. The station was quiet, a low hum of activity echoing from the front of the precinct where a few beat cops spoke in low tones. Belle hardly noticed it, the silence like a cocoon that allowed her to keep her focus and get her work done. Focus she sorely needed because her thoughts were so scattered. On Tate.
Just as they’d been for the past several days, her mind tormented her with what-ifs, tripping between Tate and the murders like an out of control roller coaster. Once more, the urge to drive over to Reynolds Station and hash it out with him again gripped her.
Would it make a difference? Or was it just another pointless exercise in hurting herself?
Even if they came to some sort of truce now, the hot sex and good behavior that were an inevitable part of a new relationship would fade. She’d still have her job and he’d still resent her for it.
And they’d be right back to where they started.
“Belle?”
The low, achy voice grabbed her immediately and she glanced up to see the object of half her tumbling thoughts standing in the doorway to the back entrance to the precinct, just beyond the kitchen. “Russ?”
He was doubled over at the waist, a look of sheer agony painting the tight lines of his face.
“I don’t feel so good.” The words came out slurred and he stumbled forward a few steps, one hand clutching the wall while another covered his heart.
Sympathy roared through her, that ever-present need to help pushing her toward him. This was Reese’s father. Her boss. And he was her friend. Whatever she suspected him of paled in comparison to seeing him struggle as if it was painful to even breathe.
In moments, she was at his side. She bobbled her cup of forgotten coffee when some of the liquid sloshed over the rim, burning the tips of her fingers and quickly righted it.
“Russ. Are you okay?”
“My heart.” His words were thready as she placed her free hand on his back. Even through his uniform she could feel the heat rising off him. His pulse hammered beneath her palm and she fought to hold his weight as he wavered, his large frame toppling against her.
“Let’s get you to your office. You can sit down. I’ll call for help.”
Those were the last words she got out before he twisted, that solid, still-strong body pinning her against the wall. One hand covered her mouth while the other gripped her arm. With shocking clarity, she recognized her mistake in trying to help him, especially out of sight of anyone in the squad room. Panic roared through her, ratcheting up her pulse and driving her into action.
The heat of her coffee registered through her adrenaline and fear. Going slack, she used that momentary shift in body position to hurl her coffee at him, the steaming liquid covering his face. He grunted, a low moan escaping his lips before his body slammed against hers even harder than before.
Belle wanted to fight. Wanted to protest and find a way out of the situation, but his renewed grip—now against her throat—was too tight. Each time she tried to kick out, the sheer size and strength of him and the extended reach of his arms held her in place.
The familiar walls of the precinct and the even more familiar face began to fade along with what was left of the air in her lungs and the edges of her vision grew murky.
When she thought about it later, she’d run through it all in her mind. How she could have defended herself differently. How she should have questioned his sudden illness. How the chief had deserved to know of her suspicions sooner so he could be aware of the situation.
But at that moment, she thought of none of it.
At that moment, all Belle could do was let the d
arkness take her.
* * *
Although he hadn’t returned quite to raging jerk-ville with his family, Tate’s conversation with Arden still lay heavy in his thoughts. He’d avoided spending too much time with any of them, instead choosing to spend the rest of the week and the better part of the weekend out on Tot, riding the property and thinking about his next steps.
He wanted a life with Belle. Nothing had changed that and nothing would. The past ten years had felt like a lifetime apart and he didn’t want to do it anymore.
Nor could he shake the reality of his sister’s words.
That’s exactly why she’s so special.
She doesn’t give up her good. She shares it with others.
She’s using what she has to make things better.
Belle did make things better. She’d made him a better man, long before he’d even understood what that was or why it mattered. His own father had been absent much of his life, at first just missing and later distant as his bad business practices sprouted consequences. Ace had done his best to set a good example, bearing the brunt of responsibility as the oldest. His mother had filled in the gaps, her expectations of upstanding, honest behavior and compassion something she’d drilled into all of them.
But Belle had cemented it.
He’d walk her home from school or carry her things or hold the door for her. At first, it was because his mother had told him it was the right thing to do and later, it had just become natural. More than natural, he’d wanted to do things to help her.
She’d been a constant in his life—at school, after school, on the weekends. She was a part of his life and he couldn’t remember a time when she wasn’t there.
Until the day he’d sent her away.
He spurred Tot forward, their meander through the property taking them toward the west end, where they’d discovered the cut fence and then the dead body that had started this whole nightmare.
What if he hadn’t headed out this way a few weeks ago? If the body had continued decomposing in the bottom of a ravine, subjected to the elements...
The discovery of Jesse Abrogato had started all of this. The hunt for a killer. The discovery of a second, connected body. And the return of his relationship with Belle. He hadn’t considered it through that lens, but now that he did, it was upsetting to realize that they’d come back together under the worst possible circumstances.
