Truly, Madly, Dangerously
Page 20
Sadie relaxed until she was limp against him, her arms wrapped around his waist and her body shivering, a little. She actually fell asleep, completely exhausted by the ordeal in the lake. As long as she was breathing, that’s all that mattered.
Truman brushed a strand of hair out of her face. “I can replace the cabin,” he said softly. “I can replace the building and everything in it, but I can’t replace you. I love you, Sadie Mae,” he added beneath his breath. “What am I going to do about that?”
Conrad was talking freely, much to Rhea’s dismay. He tried to put a noble spin on it, but the truth was that Rhea had been sleeping with Hearn and giving him a cut of what she embezzled for months.
She must’ve been planning the murder for a long while, because she’d been building her relationship with Conrad for all those months; since just a few weeks after she and Hearn became involved. Sadie didn’t believe in coincidence, so it must’ve been a part of the plan.
Hearn always chose the nights when Conrad was on duty for their rendezvous. Maybe so he wouldn’t have to see Lillian at the front desk, or so she wouldn’t know who had taken her place. Rhea coaxed Conrad into keeping the secret of the affair to himself, and even slept with him a time or two in order to keep him on a string.
Women like Rhea gave an entire gender a bad name.
Rhea had known Conrad would be interviewed once Hearn’s body was found, and she’d also known he was weak. It had been her idea that he disappear. It had also been her idea to kill Jason Davenport, when she heard about the fight he and Sadie had had at the Shamrock. But that time Conrad had done the dirty work. Rhea had done nothing more than make a phone call, pretending to be a contrite Sadie.
Standing in the motel parking lot, Sadie reassured all the guys she worked with that she was fine. Cal bought it, and so did Mangino. Even Benning seemed pretty much satisfied. After all, she’d been through worse and they all knew it.
Lucky Santana was not satisfied by her account of the morning’s excitement. He glared at Truman as if it was his fault she’d been thrown in the lake, when all he’d done was save her life.
They had a nice, warm room waiting for them. Truman—knee bandaged tightly by the EMTs who had arrived just five minutes after Wilks had taken Conrad and Rhea away—didn’t need to be climbing the stairs to her room above the motel office just yet, and she wasn’t about to leave him alone.
All the guys, except for Lucky, left to pack their bags.
Sadie handed Truman the key to their room. “Go on in. I’ll be right there.”
He raised his eyebrows slightly, in silent question.
“I need to have a word with Santana.”
He didn’t like it, but he did unlock the door to their room and step inside.
Sadie wore pair of borrowed pants that were several sizes too large, a loaner of a T-shirt that all but swallowed her whole, and a blanket that kept the chill off. All she wanted was a long, hot shower, something to eat, and Truman.
She smiled up at Santana. “Quit glaring at me that way.”
“You can’t swim?” He sounded not only angry, but horrified. There was actually a spark of fire in his normally distant eyes.
“No, I can’t. Is that why you’re angry? Because I can’t swim?”
“You never told me,” he said more calmly.
“It never came up.”
She knew, in a flash of instinct, that Santana’s anger had nothing to do with her inability to swim or her oversight in telling him about the failing.
He knew she was leaving, even before she did.
“You work really well with Mangino and Cal,” she said, “and I’ll bet if Murphy ever gets any field time…”
“I’m not a freakin’ baby-sitter, and I’m not looking forward to breaking in a new partner.” He scowled. “Damn it, Harlow, you’re the only woman I ever trusted to watch my back.”
She slipped a hand out of the warmth of her blanket and touched his face. Perfectly clean-shaven, jaw hard and nostrils flaring, he was a sight. But she wasn’t afraid, not even of Santana’s anger.
“I love him,” she whispered. “I really should not be telling you this before I even tell Truman, but…I love him so much.” Her smile grew. “I waited a long time to find him.”
Santana put his hand over hers and drew it away from his face. “Love is just lust wrapped up in a pretty package.” He gave her a long-suffering sigh. “If you just needed someone to scratch your itch, all you had to do was ask.”
Another woman might be insulted, and she couldn’t deny that once upon a time the thought had crossed her mind. “It’s not about that,” she said, and then she smiled. “Well, not entirely.”
Santana rolled his eyes.
“I love you like a brother, Lucky, I really do. But Truman is my forever.”
He growled, a little. “Call me in six months, when the new of this relationship has cooled off, and we’ll see what you think about forever then.”
It was time to face Truman. She did love him, she did want forever. But she wasn’t sure he’d feel the same way. Thanks to her he’d lost his job and his cabin had been burned to the ground. His knee was hurting, and there was no telling how long it would take to heal properly.
Santana saw the indecision in her eyes. “If McCain gives you any grief, I’ll take care of him for you.”
“No, you won’t.” She smiled one last time and slipped her hand from his.
There were no guarantees, there was no promise that would make Truman love her, now and forever. But if she didn’t try…what would she have?
The door to their room was propped slightly open, and Truman sat on the side of the bed, waiting for her. He lifted his head when she walked into the room, and looked at her with a question in his blue eyes.
“I had to say goodbye to a friend,” she said as she locked the deadbolt.
She dropped the blanket and walked to Truman, sitting beside him and wrapping her arms around his waist, all in one smooth move. His arms went around her, too, and they fell back onto the bed together.
It seemed like ages since they’d been alone, even though it had only been a few hours.
There was so much to be said, but for the moment it was easier just to hold on and take comfort in touch. She could undress Truman and herself, make love to him, and then…when they were hiding under the covers and sated and half-asleep…then she could tell him.
But that would be the coward’s way out. “We need to talk,” she said, trying to sit up.
Truman laughed hoarsely and held on to her as he fell back on the bed. They landed still entangled, bouncing lightly. “Then talk,” he said, keeping his arms securely around her.
Sadie was more nervous than she’d been when she’d thought Conrad might shoot her. With good reason. Her life depended on what happened in the next few minutes.
“Ask me what I want.”
“Now?” He cupped her breast and teased it.
“Now,” she whispered.
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, as if he dreaded the conversation to come. “What do you want, Sadie Mae?”
She scooted closer, as close as possible, and placed her face closer to his. “I want to help Cal find his sister.”
That got a small, displeased grunt out of him. “That’s kinda what I figured you were going to say.”
But Sadie wasn’t anywhere near finished.
“I want to be your soft place to fall,” she added quickly. “Not just when I come back to town for a visit now and then, but…” She said the word that terrified and thrilled her. “Forever.”
Truman’s beautiful blue eyes opened, and he looked at her.
Sadie brushed aside a lock of soft brown hair that had fallen across his forehead. “I want to stand beside you at the next election, when you run for sheriff and kick Wilks’s ass. I’ll even leave my gun at home that day.”
He smiled, a little. “You really think you can learn to leave the house unarmed now and then?”
>
“Yeah, I think I can. Unless, of course, I’m working a case.” She slipped her leg through his, taking care with his bandaged knee. “You will need a lead investigator if you plan to bring the Sheriff’s Department up to speed.”
“I guess I will,” Truman said with a half smile.
“I want to be there when you rebuild the cabin. I want to help you rebuild your home.” Our home? Maybe. It all depended on where this conversation ended up. “We might want to make it a little bit larger, add a room or two onto the back, because one day I want a daughter named Reagan and a son named Grant or maybe Pierce.”
Truman shifted his head to her throat and kissed her there. Once, twice.
Now came the tough part. “Most of all, more than anything, I want you to love me the way I love you.”
She waited for him to say something. Anything. It was very much like drowning.
Truman rested his hand in her hair and lifted his head to look her in the eye. “I do love you.”
Exhausted but deliriously happy they rested there, with her head on Truman’s chest and his hand tangled in her hair and their legs entwined. She was so tired, and now that she’d taken the leap and told Truman how she felt, everything seemed good and fine. Her body felt heavy and tired, and it demanded rest. Her eyes drifted closed. Everything was going to be all right.
“We’ll rebuild the cabin,” Truman said, “and we’ll add on a few rooms at the same time.”
She smiled, and a new warmth shot through her.
“Teach me to swim?” she said with a yawn.
The last words she heard before drifting into a deep sleep were, “Oh, yeah.”
The clothes and shoes were borrowed but dry. His knee was tightly wrapped to keep it from giving out on him, but he was able to maneuver on his own. No crutches required. Truman stepped out of the hotel room, headed for the café and something to eat. Some thing to go. Sadie was ravenously hungry, and she wasn’t ready to leave the bed. If he had his way, she’d stay there all day.
It was Wednesday, time once again for Aunt Lillian’s Gelatin Surprise. Truman shuddered. Maybe Lillian would give in and make a plate of sandwiches, since it was for Sadie.
Great. All four of those Neanderthals Sadie worked with were hanging out in the parking lot, watching his door, waiting for him—or Sadie—to exit.
He took a step toward the café. They all walked to ward him, like linebackers intent on bringing him down.
They met in the middle of the parking lot.
“We’re getting married,” Truman said without preamble. “Next week.”
“Next week?” Benning shouted. The four of them stood between Truman and the café. “Sadie can’t get married next week! We have work to do!”
“Sadie will work part-time for a while,” Truman said calmly. He looked at Cal. “She really wants to help you find your sister.” But if he had his way she’d be pregnant soon, and then she’d think twice about chasing around with a gun strapped to her thigh.
Maybe.
“Why are y’all still here?” he asked. “The excitement is over.”
“We want to make sure Sadie’s okay,” Mangino said.
“And besides, the sketch artist she asked for will be here in an hour or so.”
“She told me about that.”
Santana, who looked at Truman like he wanted to break something, said, “She’s hungry, right?”
“Right.”
“The woman eats like a horse,” Santana said, unsmiling, “and when she comes down off an adrenaline high, you’d better be somewhere near a Dairy Queen.”
He hated it that these men knew more about Sadie than he did.
No, not more. What they knew was different, and he had time to learn it all for himself. All the time in the world.
“Thanks for the tip.” Truman glanced toward the café. The place was empty. Then again, it was Wednesday. “Let me buy y’all lunch,” he said, clapping Santana on the shoulder.
Benning was openly suspicious of the offer, but he didn’t say anything.
“After all,” Truman explained, “y’all are like Sadie’s family, and I guess we should find a way to get along.”
Cal glanced suspiciously at the empty parking lot. “Is this a good place to eat?”
“I can honestly say that Sadie’s Aunt Lillian is a great cook.” Six days out of the week.
Together the five of them headed for the café. “So, what’s cooking?” Mangino asked.
Truman smiled. “It’s a surprise.”
ISBN: 978-1-4268-7380-5
TRULY, MADLY, DANGEROUSLY
Copyright © 2005 by Linda Winstead Jones
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279 U.S.A.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and TM are trademarks of Harlequin Books S.A., used under license. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
Visit Silhouette Books at www.eHarlequin.com
* The Sinclair Connection
* The Sinclair Connection
* The Sinclair Connection
* The Sinclair Connection
* The Sinclair Connection
* The Sinclair Connection
* The Sinclair Connection
† Last Chance Heroes
† Last Chance Heroes
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14