Cowboy's Texas Rescue

by Beth Cornelison

  He lifted his eyebrows and gave a nod of acknowledgment. “Hey, that’s great.”

  “Thanks.” She smiled politely. Her promotion was good news for her, but it seemed so pitiful compared to raiding military compounds to rescue political prisoners or topple dictators. Her life and Jake’s would never be in step, and she had little to offer that could compete with the glamour, excitement and challenge of black ops work. She saw that now, and her heart sank a bit lower.

  “How are your parents?” he asked.

  “Good. Mom’s still in remission, and they’re thinking about taking another cruise next spring. This time to Alaska.”

  He nodded again. “Alaska is beautiful. They’ll love it.”

  God, listen to them with the banal, awkward niceties after the intimacy and connection they’d had in January. Maybe all they’d shared had been an illusion on her part and this stilted formality was all they really had. That thought made her chest ache with a sharp grief.

  Conjuring a smile, she sent him a side glance. “How is your dad?”

  Jake face fell. “He died last month. Another heart attack.”

  She placed a hand on his arm, sympathy twisting her heart. “I’m so sorry, Jake.”

  “Thanks.” He cut a quick look toward her, then glanced down the courthouse corridor. “I was out of country. Again. On a six-month assignment.” He inhaled deeply and blew it out slowly. “Michelle couldn’t reach me, and I missed the funeral.” His shoulders sagged, and the guilt and grief etched on his face wrenched inside her. “I only found out about it last week when the mission ended.”

  Her fingers curled into the sleeve of his dress shirt, and she bit her tongue as empty platitudes sprang to mind. Nothing she could say would make up for what he’d missed. The best she could offer was her unconditional friendship and moral support, and if he didn’t already understand he had that, then there was more distance between them than she’d imagined. And the connection she believed they had was a farce.

  He rubbed a hand on his chin, as if scrubbing out the bad memory, and gave her a tight grin. “So...what else is new? You adopted Sadie and Nela, right? What happened to the horses? How’s Darynda doing?”

  His change of topic signaled he was through discussing his father...even if she could still see shadows of unresolved doubts lingering in his eyes.

  “Um, my parents took in Nela and Sadie, and they’re thriving. Mom spoils them. Mr. Noble’s children auctioned the farm, and the buyer bought the horses, too. My mom says they’re nice folks, but I haven’t met them. Kinda hard going back to that house.” Though not for the reasons he might think. Seeing Mr. Noble’s house was just too painful a reminder of how she’d fallen for a man who could never love her the same way she loved him. A sharp ache pulsed in her chest, and she cleared her throat as she searched her memory for more updates. “Oh, yeah, Darynda is pregnant again.” Chelsea smiled, remembering the last visit she’d had with her parents’ neighbor. “Her husband’s tour ended, and he came home two months ago. They’re over the moon.”

  Chelsea’s heart gave a little twist of envy. Seeing how happy and in love Darynda and her husband were only made her longing for the same bliss a sharper ache.

  He gave her a smiled acknowledgment. “That’s great. When you see Darynda again, give her my best. Okay?”

  “Sure.” She fingered her purse strap, mentally scrambling for the next item of small talk. But idle chatter felt like such a waste of time. Jake was here. “I thought you were going to submit your testimony by video.”

  “I’d thought I might have to. My last mission was complicated and lasted longer than projected. But—”

  The squeak of a door opening at the end of the long hall interrupted him and drew both of their gazes. Two uniformed police officers stepped into the corridor, followed by a dour man in an ill-fitting suit. Brady.

  Instinctively, she reached for Jake, putting a hand on his arm.

  Chains shackled Brady’s hands to each other, then to a sturdy belt fastened around his waist. The steel links of the chain clattered as Brady shuffled toward Chelsea and Jake.

  She tensed, her heart rate picking up as the trio—guards and prisoner—walked toward them. Her grip on Jake’s arm tightened, and she sent him an alarmed glance.

  Jake sat straighter, raised his chin, set his jaw. His left hand slid over to cover hers where she squeezed his right arm.

  As Brady shuffled down the corridor, his gaze zeroed in on them, and his expression darkened. Malevolence blazed in his eyes.

  Acid rolled through Chelsea’s stomach, but she kept her head high, her stare level and her mouth set. She wouldn’t show Brady the anxiety he still stirred inside her. She had the upper hand now. He couldn’t hurt her. And she had a role in seeing that justice was served.

  Drawing a slow breath through her nose, she thought of Brady’s victims—the two policemen, Mr. Noble. Remembering whom she was speaking for bolstered her conviction and her courage.

  When Brady reached the area where she and Jake sat, his feet slowed, and he focused his attention, his wrath on Chelsea. “I’m comin’ for you, girlie. This ain’t over.”

  Her gut jerked into a knot, and her pulse kicked higher, but she kept her expression even, schooled.

  One of the guards jerked on Brady’s arm. “Let’s go, Brady! Keep moving.”

  “Sorry about that, ma’am,” the other guard said as Brady was hauled away. “The usual prisoner entrance is closed for construction.”

  Chelsea acknowledged the guard with a halfhearted smile, then dropped her gaze to her lap as she gathered her composure.

  “You all right?” Jake asked as Brady was led inside the courtroom.

  She suppressed a shiver, not wanting Jake to know how Brady’s taunt rattled her. “Sure. He can’t hurt me. He’s in custody. I’m going put him away for life with my testimony. He’s the one who should be scared, right?”

  Jake twitched a cheek, flashing a grin that caused a flutter behind her ribs. “That’s right.”

  “So...funny story about the construction the guy mentioned.” She kept her tone as even as possible, hoping her commentary would convince Jake she was calmer than she might appear. “The steps in that stairwell were like a quarter of an inch off regulation height for stairs or something...not much at all, but strangely, enough that people kept tripping and falling. A real liability issue apparently, so the city is having to rebuild those steps.”

  Jake quirked an eyebrow, clearly amused by her nervous chatter. “You don’t say?”

  “Yeah. It was in the newspaper the other day. Weird, huh? Quarter-inch off.”

  Shut up, dummy! Stop prattling....

  “Hmm,” he grunted in response.

  She cleared her throat. “You were saying...you thought you’d have to video your testimony bu-u-ut...” She drew out the last word, leaving it open for him to finish the sentence.

  “But...I told my team I had to be here. We’d just wrapped up an assignment a couple of weeks ago, and the team has other pilots, so I told the team leader I had official business.” He squeezed her knee, and when she glanced up at him, he held her gaze. “Besides, I wanted to see you again.”

  Chelsea blinked. “Me?”

  He laughed. “Why do you sound so surprised? I sure didn’t come to see Brady’s ugly mug.”

  Chelsea shifted in her seat to face him, trying to keep her runaway emotions in check. Just because he wanted to see her didn’t mean he returned her feelings. He could have come to tell her goodbye. Or tell her he’d met someone else. Or to tell her he was going deep undercover and wouldn’t be able to call her for the next two years. Or... “Why?”

  Jake’s brow furrowed. “Why what?”

  She narrowed a cautious look on him, afraid to acknowledge the bubble of hope welling inside her. “Why did you want to see me?”

  He snorted and pulled an incredulous face. “You have to ask after all we went through together? We survived some rough stuff, and I thought we�
�d formed a...friendship.”

  Pop. The F word pierced the bubble of hope. It was the classic relationship kiss-off. I hope we can stay friends.

  Disappointment left her feeling sick to her stomach, but she bit the inside of her cheek, desperately trying to hide her dejection from him. After all, this was what she’d expected all along.

  His gaze penetrated hers, and his smile dimmed. “That word bothers you.”

  “No, I understand. We can only be friends. Because of your job. Because I’m not—” To her horror, her voice cracked, and her eyes filled with tears.

  “Chelsea Harris.”

  Jake’s gaze darted from her to something past her down the corridor.

  “Chelsea Harris.” It took a moment for the new voice to register. Another couple of seconds to realize what was happening.

  Numbly she turned, and her gaze followed the sound of her name to the guard standing just outside the courtroom doors. She was being summoned to testify.

  Her fingers curled around the armrest of her chair, and she dug deep for the strength to stand despite shaking legs, the willpower to walk away from Jake.

  He stood when she did, and he caught her arm.

  “We’ll finish this later. Okay?” Jake’s eyes were hard to read, and her stomach bunched. With an encouraging smile, he stroked her hair and leaned in to kiss her forehead. “Good luck. You’ve got this.”

  Chelsea nodded and walked stiffly behind the guard as he led her up the aisle to the front of the courtroom. She heard the hollow thud as the heavy doors to the chamber closed behind her. Heart scampering, she cast a sweeping gaze around the courtroom. The judge, a thin older man with a scraggly comb-over covering his bald pate, gave her a friendly smile.

  Assistant District Attorney Jodi Israel wore her hair scraped back in a clasp at the nape of her neck and bobbed her head once, giving Chelsea a confident look clearly meant to reassure and inspire her. Spectators, many of them journalists with notebooks and laptops poised before them, gave her curious glances. The jury box had been filled with the expected mix of young and old, male and female of various races, all watching her intently.

  And at the defense table, Brady sat next to a portly man in a gray business suit, with thick black hair and an ingratiating smile. Brady stared flatly, almost appearing apologetic and kind now that he was before the jury. But his hissed warning replayed in Chelsea’s head, and she shivered.

  This ain’t over.

  He’d said as much as he’d been dragged away by the police from the snowy field months earlier.

  He can’t hurt you. You’re the one in control now.

  Spying the witness stand next to the judge, Chelsea headed for it, but was cut off by the bailiff who blocked her path and shoved a book in front of her. A Bible. “Raise your right hand.”

  She did.

  “Do you swear to tell the truth...” Chelsea watched the bailiff’s lips move as he spoke, but her head was spinning in so many directions, the words became a muted drone as adrenaline caused the blood to whoosh past her ears.

  I’m comin’ for you, girlie.

  I wanted to see you again.

  “Miss Harris?”

  Her attention snapped back to the bailiff. “Oh, I...”

  “We need a verbal response for the court record in order to proceed,” he prompted.

  “The truth, yes. I’ll tell the truth.”

  The bailiff arched a judgmental eyebrow, chastising her for her inattention, then nodded his head toward the chair on the witness stand. “Take a seat.”

  “Thank you for being here today, Miss Harris.” The judge gave her another smile before turning to the prosecutor. “Ms. Israel, you may begin.”

  “Thank you, Your Honor.” Jodi Israel stood and approached Chelsea, smiling kindly, her eyes saying, Remember what we rehearsed.

  “Hello, Miss Harris. You are here today to testify about the events of January sixteenth of this year and the ensuing days. Correct?”

  “Yes.” The word croaked from her, and she paused to clear her throat. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “In your statement to the police you said that the defendant, Mr. Brady, kidnapped you at gunpoint when you stopped to buy gasoline for your car. Is that right?”

  “Y—”

  “Objection!” Brady rattled the chains that bound his hands. The shackles that had been attached to a belt at his waist were now threaded through a hasp on the defense table. “She wasn’t kidnapped. She willingly offered me a ride.”

  Chelsea’s jaw dropped. “What? That’s bull!”

  The judge pounded his gavel. “Mr. Brady, sit down. You’ll get your chance to testify. Mr. Janesky, please advise your client not to interrupt the proceedings, or he’ll be held in contempt of court.” He faced Chelsea. “Same for you, young lady. You’re only to address the court. And only when asked a question by one of the lawyers or myself. Understand?”

  Chelsea nodded, her heart pounding. “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. Please answer Ms. Israel’s question.”

  “Yes,” she said, facing the jury and scanning their faces. “Mr. Brady kidnapped me from the gas station. At gunpoint.”

  “Will you please recount for the court in your own words what happened, starting from the moment you arrived at the gas station?” ADA Israel asked.

  Chelsea glanced to Brady, whose eyes were riveted on her. A tiny leering grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. A leer she remembered well. He was trying to get in her head, rattle her, shake her composure.

  Gritting her back teeth, Chelsea shoved down her agitation and consternation over Brady’s interruption. She fisted her hands in her lap and tried to clear her mind of all but the day in question. “I was driving my mom’s Cadillac, Ethyl, and I was down to fumes. I knew I wouldn’t make it to my parents’ house without filling up, so I stopped at my usual place....”

  * * *

  Jake couldn’t sit still. His foot tapped the floor, and his fingers drummed on the armrest until his restlessness finally propelled him from the hard chair to pace.

  Damn it, he’d fumbled the exchange with Chelsea and managed to hurt her again. She’d clearly been bruised by his lack of communication in the past months—not that he could have done any differently, due to the circumstances surrounding his last assignment—but the new distance between them scared him. Was he too late? Had he lost his chance with Chelsea by putting her off and holding her at arm’s length all these months?

  I understand. We can only be friends...Because

  I’m not—

  Her unfinished thought and the tears that choked her up sat heavily on his chest. It pained him to think she believed any of the distance he’d put between them had been due to anything she lacked. Had he unknowingly led her to believe she didn’t measure up somehow? He thought of the jerk who’d dumped her when her mother was in the hospital. Todd the Ass had made her feel less than worthy of complete, unconditional love. As bright and compassionate and beautiful as Chelsea was, she still measured herself according to some unrealistic standard and discounted the unique and wonderful aspects that made her who she was—the woman he loved.

  Jake dropped back into a chair and groaned. Of course she’d have protective walls around her heart, guarding her from more heartache. He clenched his teeth. At his soonest opportunity, he had to assure her that he loved her and that his love didn’t come with conditions.

  Chelsea needed a man who was steadfast and dependable, but he’d disappeared for long, silent months. She needed a love she could trust not to be snatched away on a whim, yet he’d put his guilt concerning his past sins over her needs. She needed someone to cherish her for who she was and make her a priority, but he’d picked his job over her.

  Both Daniel and Alec had retired from active duty with the black ops team to be with the women and families they loved. When he thought of building a life with Chelsea, he knew he could walk away from the black ops team without regret. In the past months, something had changed for him.
Maybe he’d come to terms with his mother’s death, or maybe he’d realized his personal mission of redemption came at too high a price.

  A stabbing grief shot to his core when he thought of missing his father’s funeral.

  Don’t live a life that leaves you with regrets, son.

  Jake swallowed hard. He regretted a lot about the way things had transpired between him and Chelsea. Today, he needed to right those wrongs and beg her for a second chance.

  Chapter 19

  “I never saw Mr. Noble’s body. Jake found him in the stable and told me about him,” Chelsea told the jury. She’d had the jury’s attention through most of her testimony, but now the gazes of a few members drifted toward the defense table.

  “Jake wouldn’t let me go out to the stable. He shielded me from the scene so I wouldn’t have that image in my head.” Chelsea cast a curious glance toward the defense table as more jury members’ eyes shifted that direction. “And he wanted to preserve the crime scene.”

  Brady shifted restlessly in his seat, tugging at the front of his shirt, then leaning over to whisper to his attorney. The chains of his shackles rattled and thumped on the defense table.

  Irritation flared inside her. She wouldn’t put it past Brady to be intentionally distracting the jury from her testimony. She glanced at the judge, but he seemed not to notice. His head was down as he made notes...or perhaps doodled on a pad at the bench.

  “Did you or Mr. Connelly report Mr. Noble’s death to the police?” the prosecutor asked.

  Flicking a quick glance to the defense table, Chelsea noticed Brady lean forward, his hands pressed to his chest. His behavior agitated her. “Not right away.”

  The prosecutor frowned her displeasure with Chelsea’s inattention. “Why not?”

  “Um...” Again, Chelsea glanced toward Brady as his antics grew noisier and more dramatic. “The power was out, and the landline phones in Mr. Noble’s house wouldn’t work without power to the base unit.”

  A murmur passed through the courtroom, and Chelsea raised her voice to be heard over it, determined not to let Brady derail her train of thought. “Like I said before, neither of us had our cell phones. We were stranded because of the storm and couldn’t get to a working phone for several days.”