"Later," Clint said as he turned around. Boone and Dean and even Mary were always talking about gut instinct, an itch in the middle of the back, a certain something that told you when things weren't right. He had that now.
Mary wasn't waiting by the trailer, where she should have been. She wouldn't have given up and left on her own, not after waiting five minutes. Maybe she was late, maybe someone was questioning her.
Who? And where?
He searched the area quickly, his eye landing on the red that stood out so starkly against the dirt. Mary's pigtailed wig, bright and tangled, lay there on the ground.
* * *
Mary allowed Brett to think he had complete control, that the knife he threatened her with was truly keeping her cowed and silent. Once he relaxed, once he truly believed he was in charge of this deteriorating situation, she'd have him.
No one was near as he yanked her up against the wall of a trailer at the edge of the crowded parking lot. "You were luring me," he whispered. "All this time. It was a trick. You're no better than she was."
The knife Brett had pulled from his pocket and flipped open with such ease as he'd dragged her away was grasped in his hand so tightly his knuckles were white.
"What did she do to you?" Mary asked calmly.
Brett moved in too close. His eyes were dark and without any evidence of real emotion. His lips were pursed tight. "She used me to make Oliver jealous. Then she turned around and used him to make me jealous. She was never satisfied. Never! No matter what I did, no matter what I said … it was never good enough. When she left the last time, when she told me it was over, she laughed at me." His lower lip quivered. "She said I was a poor substitute for Oliver, that I would never be a truly adequate lover, that I was … never good enough for her."
"Women are like that sometimes," Mary said. "They don't appreciate what's right in front of them." If only she could get her right hand free. She'd fitted the bottom of the pocket with Velcro, so all she had to do was rip it open to get to the gun that was strapped to her thigh. Unfortunately, Brett had her right hand in a very tight grip.
"And they're liars," he said. "Like you."
"I'm just doing my job."
The hand at her wrist tightened. "I knew one day someone would come after me. I never expected it to be a woman. How insulting. I expected a better adversary when the time came. I expected a champion of justice, not a girl."
"I'm not a girl," Mary said, leaning forward slightly to get in his face.
"Of course you are." He leaned in too close. "You're a small, weak, inferior girl. You're a child, Mary. You're not a worthy opponent for someone like me. You never had a chance."
"So what now?" Mary asked. "Are you going to do to me what you did to those other women?"
He raised the knife to her throat. The tip pressed against her skin, but didn't break it. "Eventually." He looked her up and down. "Not like this. You look ridiculous, with all that makeup on your face. I have a place chosen especially for us. A cabin, just an hour or so north, in Tennessee. You can wash your face there, fix your hair, put on the earrings I gave you."
"They're kinda ugly," Mary said.
The pressure of the knife at her throat increased slightly.
"Gaudy," she continued. "Tacky."
"Then again, maybe I'll just kill you right here," he said angrily. Brett took a couple of deep breaths. "No, no, not again. I can't lose my temper again. Kristin made me lose my temper, and look where it got me. I shouldn't have killed her so quickly, right here where others might hear. No." He calmed himself visibly. "You can't do that to me."
Mary heard Clint before he came around the corner. His step was heavy, his voice just short of frantic as he called her name.
Brett heard, too. He turned his head, and that was all Mary needed. She whipped her head to one side, away from the threat of the knife at her throat, and dipped down. The man who held her was unprepared for the move, and for the fact that Mary could move very quickly when she had to. One leg swiped out, and Brett fell to the ground, onto his back.
"Here!" Mary called, and Clint came running. Brett tried to roll away, and she very quickly kicked at the hand that grasped the knife. He howled in pain, and the knife skittered away as Clint ran around the corner of the trailer that had shielded them from view.
Brett scrambled to his feet and tried to run, but he couldn't get past Clint. His victims had always been smaller, weaker and taken by surprise; he was no match for Clint and Mary, and in a matter of seconds Clint had Brett captured, hands tightly pinned behind his back. Brett struggled, but he wasn't going anywhere.
Mary drew her weapon, and when Brett saw the gun he stopped struggling. His eyes went wide as she aimed it at him. She tightened her finger on the trigger, ever so slightly.
"Mary," Clint said in a low voice. "What are you doing?"
"What I came here to do," she said calmly. "Tell me he doesn't deserve to die. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't pull this trigger."
"He's not going to hurt anyone else," Clint said. "I understand your thinking here, I really do, but—"
"You don't understand!" she said. "You couldn't possibly." She'd been willing to sit back, to let someone else tend to justice. But to have the man she'd been searching for right here in front of her…
"Think of your career," Clint said. "I've got him. He's not going anywhere but to jail. Mary, honey, you can't shoot a man who's restrained."
She looked Clint in the eye. "Let him go."
Brett actually backed up against Clint, as if he were looking for protection. "Don't let me go," he pleaded hoarsely. "She's crazy! She wants to shoot me!"
Mary took a step toward Clint and his prisoner. She aimed the weapon in her hand at Brett's head. "Run, Brett. Run. Try to get away. Think you can make it?"
She was so close, she could touch the muzzle to his forehead if she wanted to.
"Did you ever give any of your victims a chance to run? I think I'm being very magnanimous. Run. Maybe I'll give you a five-second head start." She shrugged. "Then again, maybe I won't."
"Mary," Clint said in a low, soothing voice. "You did it. You caught him. It's over."
"Not yet." It couldn't be over. She hadn't made Brett pay, she hadn't taken vengeance for what he'd done to Elaine and all those other women. The anger was still inside her, the need to exact justice still ate at her heart.
"Come on, honey," Clint said softly. "It's time to go home."
Home. Heaven help her, she'd forgotten what home was. She'd gotten so caught up in her quest for vengeance she'd almost lost a part of herself in the process. If not for Clint, she would've turned her back on the concept of home, and she likely never would've found her way back.
She drew her leg back and kicked Brett Brisco between the legs so hard he howled at the top of his lungs and buckled. He would have fallen to his knees if Clint hadn't been holding him up. "Now it's over."
Alarmed by Brett's howl, others came running. Josh and Lewis arrived first. Luther Malone and Clint's brothers were next on the scene. Uniformed officers were right behind them.
Mary holstered her weapon. "Great work," she said sarcastically, turning her attentions to Malone. "Did you even bother to check the blood and skin under Kristin Brisco's fingernails?" She yanked at Brett's collar to show them all the scratches on his neck.
"We don't have the lab reports back yet," Malone explained. "We considered the other DNA evidence we already had sufficient for arrest."
"What a bunch of clowns," she said beneath her breath but loud enough for everyone to hear. Her eyes snapped to Clint as Malone took custody of Brett. "Oh, sorry honey. No offense intended."
He looked her up and down; she had almost forgotten that she was in full regalia herself. "None taken."
"Oliver Brisco might've slept with his ex-wife," Mary explained, "but it was Brett who killed her. He killed eight other women, too, women he considered to be pale substitutes for the woman he hated."
"Get m
e away from her," Brett pleaded. "She tried to kill me!"
"Paris?" Josh asked, his eyes on her.
"He tried to kill me first," she explained. A new and unexpected serenity came over her. Clint was right. Her job, her obsession here, was over. "If I'd wanted to kill him, he'd be dead now."
"I want a full report," Josh snapped as Malone led Brett Brisco away.
"Give me five minutes," Mary said, her eyes on Clint.
"Now!" her boss snapped.
"Five minutes. Please."
He shook his head and left, and she was alone with Clint. Well, not really and truly alone. His brothers stood a few feet away, there were cops everywhere. But when he walked to her and she met him, and they put their heads together … they were alone.
"You did it," he whispered.
"Yeah. Thanks for showing up when you did."
He lifted a hand to her face. "I have a feeling you didn't need me to save you. You do a pretty good job of taking care of yourself."
"Sometimes," she conceded. "Still, it's always nice to have backup."
Would she have shot Brisco, given the chance? Would she have broken every rule if Clint hadn't been there to stop her? She didn't think so. The urge had been there, but it had been tempered. She wasn't about to become one of the bad guys by crossing that line. Still, it was nice to have someone close by to nudge that temperance along, when necessary.
Clint leaned in close. "Remember when I said I think I love you?" he added softly.
"Yeah," she whispered.
"We're going to have to do away with the I think. This is the real thing. I love you, Mary."
Mary closed her eyes and smiled. "I love you, too."
The real thing.
Clint took a deep breath. "So, what happens now?"
"I have to go back to D.C. Paperwork awaits. Lots and lots of paperwork." Her heart sank, and it had nothing to do with the dreaded reports she'd have to file. "What about you?"
"There's a month left on the tour. If Oliver wants to continue…"
"A month." She rested her head against his chest, in a way so subtle no one would be able to see. Maybe. She didn't care if anyone saw or not. "I have a little more vacation time coming. Maybe in a month I can … unless you'd rather not…"
He rested his hand in her hair. "D.C. or Alabama?"
"Alabama," she said quickly. She wanted to go back to the ranch, see Wes and Katie, drink muscadine wine and make love under the stars and…
"Paris!" Josh shouted.
She backed away slowly. "Stay off the bulls," she ordered.
"Yes, ma'am. You be careful yourself."
"I will."
She and Clint had been together almost constantly for a month. She'd come to depend on him, to need him … to love him. Saying goodbye was harder than she'd imagined it would be. After today, nothing would be the same. Nothing.
"Paris!"
She couldn't make herself say goodbye, so she spun around to answer Josh's call.
* * *
Chapter 18
« ^
"What on earth are you going to do in Washington, D.C.?" Wes asked, shaking his head as he poured himself another cup of coffee.
"I don't have any idea," Clint answered. "But what choice do I have? Mary can't come here, not indefinitely."
While she'd been back in D.C. and he'd been on the tour, they'd burned up a lot of cell phone time. She'd been here at the ranch once, to pick up her car, but he'd been in Mississippi at the time and had missed her.
He could have bailed out on the tour and let Frank fill in, and he almost did just that. But in the end he hadn't been able to leave Oliver in the lurch that way. The man's life had been turned upside down. An ex-wife he'd loved and hated was dead, his cousin was a serial killer who was now readily confessing to all his crimes, and he now had a daughter he barely knew to raise. Oliver might not be what anyone would call a nice guy, but his employees had decided to stand by him until the end of the tour; Clint included. No one knew what next year would bring.
It was surprising to learn that Oliver had known all along about Kristin's affair with Brett. He'd kept his cousin on all this time, blaming Kristin and her manipulative nature for the family affair, believing that his cousin had been used by her, just as he had. Never imagining for a minute what Brett was capable of.
Someone had asked about a paternity test to determine which Brisco had fathered Kristin's daughter. Oliver had declared that there would be no test. Annie was his, and no one was allowed to question that fact. Maybe he wasn't so hard-hearted after all.
Jayne had given birth to the latest Sinclair, a beautiful little girl she and Boone had named Miranda. Clint had already been to Birmingham twice to see his new niece.
It had been three days since Clint returned home from the rodeo. Wes hadn't changed, but Katie was getting bigger every day. Still, she was basically the same. The house had changed. No, he had changed. This place wasn't the same without Mary. There had been more phone time with Mary, since his return home.
It wasn't good enough. No matter how long they talked, it didn't come close to filling the void he lived in when Mary wasn't near. She was due in this afternoon, for a two-week vacation. While she was here he was going to ask her to marry him, and if she said yes he'd pack his bags and move to D.C. without a single second thought.
Well, maybe a fleeting second thought or two. What the hell would he do there? It didn't really matter. He loved his home, his ranch, the country life, but he was not old enough to be set in his ways. Learning something new might actually be interesting. He was due for a change. This roller coaster of his was getting a little predictable.
"Car in the driveway!" Katie called from the living room.
Clint set his coffee cup on the counter and hurried to the front of the house, walking onto the porch just as Mary's car came to a stop.
He held his breath as she stepped from the car. Damn, she was beautiful. Of course, the last time he'd seen her she'd had a painted face and had been wearing a baggy clown costume. This … this was the real Mary. The smile that spread across her face took his breath away.
He ran down the steps and into the yard to greet her, but she didn't run to him. She stopped to reach into the car to grab something. A lot of something, he saw as she came up with her hands full.
"What's all this?" he asked.
"Kiss first," she said as she tilted her face up. He did, and when his lips touched hers he knew it didn't matter where they were, what he did, what she did. They had to be together.
"Yum," she said dreamily as he took his mouth from hers. "I have been fantasizing about that kiss for the past three hours, as I drove down the road." She grinned. "I almost got myself a speeding ticket. Twice."
"Let me take this," Clint said, reaching for the bags in her hands. He'd been fantasizing about much more than a kiss, and the sooner he asked her to marry him, the sooner those fantasies would start to come true.
"No." Mary took a step back. "I have gifts for you, and I want to present them in the proper order."
Clint took a step back and crossed his arms over his chest. "All right."
Mary laid her things on the hood of her car, and reached for one bulky bag. "Peach cobbler," she said, reaching into the bag and drawing out a frosty box. "It's frozen, but I promise to heat and serve it all by myself."
Clint grinned as she reached for the next bag. She delved into the brown bag and came out with a book. "Okay, technically this is for me. It's all about planting a garden." She reached into the bag again and came out with a few packets of seeds.
Clint's smile dimmed. "Mary…"
She held up a finger to silence him. "One more thing." She reached into a small canvas bag and came out with, of all things, a badge she flashed at him.
"What's this? Are you making me an honorary special agent?"
"Look more closely."
He did. The badge Mary held read Jackson County Investigator. "What have you done?" He knew. He
saw the truth on her face, as much as in that badge. "I would never ask you…"
"You didn't ask, did you?" She came to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Malone did some checking around for me, and there was this job available in the area, and I can't be on the flying squad forever, so … howdy, neighbor."
He kissed her again, deeper this time. Longer.
"I have something for you, too," he said, reaching into the pocket of his jeans and drawing out a small velvet box. He hadn't been this nervous in … hell, he'd never been this nervous! "I love you" was one thing, but marriage? So quick?
Yeah. It was time, and it was so very right.
He opened the box and showed Mary the diamond he'd chosen for her. It was simple, not too small and not too big. It suited her. The minute he'd seen this ring he'd known it was the one. "What do you say?"
"Yes," she said. "I say yes."
He slipped the ring onto her finger, and she admired it with a smile and the glint of a tear in her eye. "It's so beautiful. And you're so sneaky! I bring you frozen peach cobbler, and a book and a badge for myself, and you whip out something like this. Are you trying to one-up me?"
"Never."
"Good," she said smugly. "Because trust me, I've got you beat."
"Yep. I love frozen peach cobbler."
She draped her arms around his neck and grinned. It was a devious, happy, contented Mary smile that grabbed him down deep.
"Actually," she said in a lowered voice, "I do have one more surprise for you. One more very small, very important surprise. It's for us, really, not just for you."
"What is it?"
Mary rose up on her toes and whispered into his ear, "Hang on to your hat, Daddy, things around here are about to get very interesting."
* * * * *
CLINT'S WILD RIDE Page 20
