by Diana Palmer
As selfish as that was, for now, it might have to be enough.
Agent Cord rushed toward her, his expression concerned. “Are you okay, Julie?”
She fought back tears. “I…can’t do it anymore, I have to get out.”
His understanding nod somehow made the guilt slightly abate. “You did good, Julie. You did real good.”
She pressed a hand to her mouth, swallowing back tears. If she started crying for all the victims she’d seen, all the horror she’d seen, she’d never stop crying.
“What will you do?” he asked softly.
“I don’t know,” she said, her voice cracking.
He sighed. “Julie, you love him. Go and tell him. Don’t waste another seven years.”
A laugh bubbled somewhere in the depths of her throat. Jay was such a good friend. And he was right.
“But what if I tell him and he doesn’t feel the same way?” she whispered.
“My God, woman, you are a fool,” he said with a smile. “The man loves you, and if he’s too scared to admit it, remind him you stared down a bullet for him.”
Julie nodded, blinking back tears, then hugged Jay just as the elevator dinged.
She would go to the BBL and see for herself.
After all, Brody had broken her heart seven years ago.
She wanted him to put it back together again.
Had he forgiven her for the past?
*
DUSK HAD JUST started to set when Brody realized he had to go to Julie.
Will was finishing dinner with some of the other guys, and he couldn’t leave without telling him. He pulled him aside, wanting to make sure it was okay with his brother. After all, Will had only been back with him for a week. He was just adjusting, just getting used to his new life.
Trying to work through the past.
“Will, I… You were right about me and Julie,” he said. “I was a fool to let her go, and I want to make it right.”
Will arched a dark eyebrow. “What are you waiting for then?”
Brody shuffled on his feet, then pressed a hand to his brother’s shoulder. “You,” Brody said. “I’ve waited so long to have you back. I don’t want to jeopardize our relationship—”
“Shut up and go get her,” Will said with a teasing smile that warmed Brody’s heart.
“You’re sure?” Brody asked.
“Yeah, she’s hot,” Will said with a full grin this time.
Brody laughed for the first time in weeks. “Yeah, she is.” He gave his brother a big hug, then jogged back to the main house.
His mind raced as he mentally made plans. He’d have to pack a bag in case he needed to stay overnight. Should he order flowers? Buy a ring?
Just as he stepped outside to go to his Jeep, a dark blue SUV rolled up. Brody frowned. He didn’t recognize the vehicle.
Then the door opened, and Julie slid from the seat. She looked so beautiful that he could hardly stand it.
But worry quickly crept in. Had she come to tell him something more about the case? Had Moody escaped?
“Julie?”
“Hi, Brody,” she said with a smile that looked so tentative his pulse hammerd.
“Where’s your other car?” he asked, suddenly noting that she wasn’t driving her FBI-issued black sedan.
She shrugged. “I turned it in and bought this.”
It took him a moment for her statement to register. “You turned it in?”
“Yes, when I resigned.” She shut the door, then walked toward him, a hint of the old Julie back. The flirty one who’d stolen his heart years ago.
“You resigned?”
She climbed the steps. “Yes. I don’t know what I’m going to do now though.”
The fact that she was here, that she’d left the job he hated, that she was smiling and wearing cowboy boots and jeans and a hat suddenly sank in, and hope budded in his chest.
“I know what you could do,” he said as he reached for her and pulled her up against him.
Her gaze locked with his, a teasing playfulness lighting the depths that had been missing the last time he’d seen her. Of course, that had been when they were facing down Moody.
But he didn’t want to think about Moody now. He wanted to enjoy the fact that Julie had come to him.
He nudged her cheek with his own, then whispered, “You could marry me.”
Julie looped her arms around his neck and looked him in the eye, her face awash with the same love she’d shown him when she was just a girl. “I reckon I could do that,” she said softly.
His heart stuttered. He was so damn happy he thought he would burst. “I love you,” he said gruffly, then swung her up into his arms and twirled her around. “I’ve always loved you, Julie.”
She threaded her fingers in his hair. “I love you, too, cowboy.”
Then she closed her lips over his and kissed him. “You won’t mind if I don’t work for a while?” she murmured when they came up for air.
“You can help me here on the BBL.” He kissed her again. “And you can give me babies.”
She threw her head back and laughed, a musical sound that warmed his heart. “How about we just start with one?”
“One sounds good to me,” Brody said. “That is, for a start.”
She laughed again, and he lifted her in his arms and carried her upstairs to the bedroom.
EPILOGUE
Julie had dreamed about a June wedding, and seven years after she’d talked about having it with Brody, it was finally coming true.
She had also dreamed about having a big family and between the boys at the BBL, Will, the men who ran the ranch and their wives, that was coming true, as well.
She and Johnny’s wife, Rachel; Brandon’s wife, Kim; Carter’s wife, Sadie; Miles’s wife, Jordan; and Mason’s wife, Cara, had become like sisters. She waved to them all as they filed into their seats with their husbands. Rachel’s son, Kenny, sat with Miles’s son, Timmy, and Kim and Brandon’s little girl, Lucy. Both Rachel and Kim were pregnant, and she’d heard Sadie, Cara and Jordan all talking about babies in the near future.
But the biggest surprise had been the phone call from her aunt. She had seen the news story featuring Julie and the abused boys, and finally decided to leave her husband. She said she’d taken the last beating of her life.
Julie had talked to Brody and like the honorable man and cowboy he was, he had offered her a place at the BBL. She was helping Ms. Ellen in the kitchen, and had blossomed under the other woman’s loving care. Her uncle had come after her, but Brody had put the fear of God in him, and her uncle had slunk away. Between her warning and Brody’s, they didn’t expect to ever see him again.
Brody stood next to Will, his best man, beneath the same gazebo where Mason and Cara had married a few months ago. White chairs and ribbons adorned the outdoor festivities, with flowers adding color.
It turned out Agent Cord played the guitar and had offered to play for them.
It was a perfect spring day.
But it would have been perfect if it had been raining and there was no one here to watch, because she was marrying the perfect man.
Her cowboy and the love of her life.
Jay began strumming the wedding march, and she clutched her roses in one hand and started the bridal walk toward the man she loved.
And her soon-to-be husband.
*
BRODY HAD NEVER felt as blessed as he did on this day. Surrounded by his best friends, the ranch hands, counselors and kids on the BBL, and his brother, life just couldn’t get any better.
Sunlight painted a radiant picture of his bride as she walked toward him, the golden light shimmering off her simple but elegant wedding dress.
“She’s great, Brody,” Will whispered. “Someday I hope I find a girl like her.”
Brody choked back emotions. The fact that Will was looking ahead was a good sign. “You will one day, Will. And she is wonderful. I wouldn’t have you back if she hadn’t kept looking the way sh
e did.” He loved her even more for that.
Because she had sacrificed her dreams for him.
He would make sure she followed her own dreams from now on. Hell, if she still wanted to go to vet school, he’d pay for that.
Or if she wanted to have babies and raise a family, he was all over that, too.
Still, Will was the amazing one. He was not only making great strides in his own recovery but also opening up and helping others. He and the boys who’d survived shared their own special bond and Brody had welcomed them onto the ranch as part of the family.
The guitar music faded as Julie took his hand, and the reverend began the ceremony. Ten minutes later, he walked his wife down the aisle and the celebration began.
Food, champagne and cake added to the party, then the music started again and Brody swept Julie onto the makeshift dance floor for their first dance as man and wife.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him again as he swung her around. “I love you, Brody.”
“I love you, too,” he whispered. “Forever and always.”
She smiled into his eyes. “Forever and always.”
Then Brody looked across the dance floor and saw Will smiling. He returned the smile, so proud of him he wanted to shout it to the heavens.
Moody had taken him away seven years ago, but Julie had brought him back.
She and Will were both heroes.
And he had no doubt that one day his brother would take over the BBL and continue the work that he had started.
*
Keep reading for an excerpt of Cowboy Cop by Rita Herron!
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CHAPTER ONE
Three months later
“Dugan is out.”
Miles’s fingers tightened around his cell phone as he wheeled his SUV around and headed toward the station. “What?”
His superior, Lieutenant Hammond, didn’t sound happy. “Based on the Kelly woman’s murder and some technicality with the chain of evidence when they’d searched the man’s place, Dugan’s lawyer got his conviction overturned.”
The past few weeks of tracking down clues and false leads day and night taunted him. He released a string of expletives.
Hammond cleared his throat. “If we’d found evidence connecting Dugan to a partner, maybe things would have gone differently, but…”
Hammond let the sentence trail off, but Miles silently finished for him. If he and Mason had found such evidence, Dugan would still be in a cell. And the world would be a safer place.
But they’d failed.
The day Dugan’s verdict was read flashed back. Dugan’s threat resounded in his head—you’ll pay.
“Now that he’s back on the streets—”
“I know. He’s going to kill again,” Miles said. And he’s probably coming after me.
His cell phone chirped, and he glanced at the caller ID. Marie’s number.
Damn, she was probably on his case for working again last night and missing dinner with Timmy. He’d thought he might have found a lead on the copycat, but instead he’d only chased his own tail.
The phone chirped again.
You’ll pay.
Panic suddenly seized him, cutting off his breath. Dammit…what if payback meant coming after his family?
“I have to go, Hammond.” Sweat beaded on his neck as he connected the call. “Hello?”
Husky breathing filled the line, then a scream pierced the receiver.
He clenched the steering wheel with a white-knuckled grip. He had to clear his throat to speak. “Marie?” God, tell me you’re there….
But the sudden silence sent a chill up his spine.
“Marie, Timmy?”
More breathing, this time followed by a husky laugh that sounded sinister, threatening…evil.
Dear God, no…
Dugan was at Marie’s house.
He pressed the accelerator, his heart hammering as he sped around traffic and called for backup. The dispatch officer agreed to send a patrol car right away.
A convertible nearly cut him off, and Miles slammed on his horn, nearly skimming a truck as he roared around it. Brush and shrubs sailed past, the wheels grinding on gravel as he hugged the side of the country road.
Images of the dead women from Dugan’s crime scenes flashed in his head, and his stomach churned. No, please, no…Dugan could not be at Marie’s house. He couldn’t kill Marie…not like the other women.
And Timmy…his son was home today with her.
The bright Texas sun nearly blinded him as he swerved into the small neighborhood where Marie had bought a house. Christmas decorations glittered, lights twinkled from the neighboring houses, the entryways screaming with festive holiday spirit.
Somehow they seemed macabre in the early-morning light.
He shifted gears, brakes squealing as he rounded a curve and sped down the street. He scanned the neighboring yards, the road, the trees beyond the house, searching for Dugan.
But everything seemed still. Quiet. A homey little neighborhood to raise a family in.
Except he had heard that scream.
His chest squeezed for air, and he slammed on the brakes and skidded up the drive. He threw the Jeep into Park, and held his weapon at the ready as he raced up to the front door.
Cop instincts kicked in, and he scanned the outside of the house and yard again, but nothing looked amiss. He glanced through the front window, but the den looked normal…toys on the floor, magazines on the table, TV running with cartoons.
Only the Christmas tree had been tipped over, ornaments scattered across the floor.
He reached for the doorknob, and the door swung open. His breath lodged in his throat, panic knotting his insides. No sounds of holiday music or Timmy chattering.
Gripping his weapon tighter, he inched inside, senses honed for signs of an intruder.
Slowly, he made his way through the den to the kitchen. The Advent calendar glared at him, mocking him with a reminder that Christmas was only a few days away.
There was a half-empty coffee cup on the counter and an overturned cereal bowl on the table. Milk dripped onto the floor.
Timmy…God…
Terror seized him.
A creaking sound suddenly splintered the air, and he swung around, braced to shoot but he saw nothing. Then another sound came from above, water running…the shower? No, the tub…overflowing…
He clenched his jaw, then inched toward the staircase, slowly climbing it and listening for an intruder, for Marie, for his son.
Any sign of life.
A quick glance into Timmy’s room and it appeared empty. Bed unmade. Toy airplane on the floor. Legos scattered. Stuffed dinosaur on his pillow.
Where was his son?
His hand trembled as he bypassed the room and edged toward the bedroom where Marie slept. One look inside, and his heart stopped.
The lamp was broken on the floor. Pillows tossed on the carpet. The corner chair overturned. Glass shards from the mirror were scattered on the vanity.
A sea of red flashed in front of him. Blood…it soaked the sheets and led a trail in
to the bathroom.
His stomach revolted, but he forced himself to scan the corners of the room before slowly entering the bathroom. Blood streaked the floor and led toward the claw-foot tub.
A groan settled deep in his gut.
Marie. Her eyes stood wide-open in death. Blood dripped down her neck and bare chest. Her arms dangled lifelessly over the tub edge, one leg askew.
For a moment, he choked. Couldn’t make himself move. He’d seen dozens of dead bodies before but none so personal…none that he cared about.
Emotions crowded his throat and chest, and he gripped the wall to steady himself. He had to. Had to get control. Slide that wall back into place so he could do his job.
Every second counted.
Fighting nausea, he slowly walked toward her and felt for a pulse. Although he knew before he touched her that it was too late.
Dugan had done this. Had gotten his payback by killing his son’s mother.
That creaking sound suddenly echoed again. He froze, hand clenching his gun, then spun around.
Nothing. Except the evidence of Dugan’s brutal crime.
Where was Timmy?
For a fraction of a second he closed his eyes on a prayer. The sound echoed again…
The attic.
Heart hammering double-time, he headed toward Timmy’s room. The door to the space had been built inside his closet. Timmy had called it his secret room.
Had Dugan found it?
Hope warred with terror as he inched inside the closet and pushed at the door. It was closed, but he had insisted the lock be removed for fear Timmy might lock himself inside and be trapped.
Now he wished he’d left that damn lock on so his son could have locked Dugan out.
Darkness shrouded the cavernous space as he climbed the steps. He tried to move soundlessly, but the wood floor squeaked. As he reached the top step, a sliver of sunlight wormed its way through the small attic window, allowing him to sweep the interior.
It appeared empty, but he had heard something.
“Timmy,” he whispered. “Son, are you here?”
Praying he was safe, Miles examined the room. Timmy’s toy airplanes and horses, his train set…
