It made Bryan feel inexplicably elated that his father believed him, that he didn’t ridicule him or try to explain away what felt like a genuine miracle.
Josh drew a breath, got to his feet. “I…should let Dawn come in. She’s probably climbing the walls waiting.”
“Yeah. I imagine she’s worried sick.”
Josh nodded. “Beth brought her back here after she showed us where to look for you, but she sneaked out to join the search.” He thinned his lips, shook his head. “She’s a lot like her mother, that one.” He nodded at Bryan’s quick look. “Yeah, she told us you knew about that. We didn’t get off to the best start, but I think I like her.”
“I’m glad.”
Josh nodded and started toward the door.
“Dad?”
He turned back.
Bryan swallowed and forced the words to come. His father had reached out to him tonight, really opened up. He deserved reciprocation. Honesty. “When I was huddled out there in the cold, hiding from that maniac, all I kept thinking was, ‘I wish Dad was here.’”
Josh smiled, and his eyes looked funny. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. I thought you’d want to know that.”
“It means more to me than you could imagine, Bry.”
Bryan nodded and knew it was true. “I love you, Dad.”
“And I love you, Bryan. Good night.”
“’Night.”
And then his dad stepped out of the bedroom, into the hall and closed the door. Bryan lay back on his pillows. And for the first time since his mother’s death, he thought he might really be all right. He might really be able to grow up and go to college and live a real life without her. Partly because he had his father—finally. And partly because he didn’t really think he was entirely without her after all.
Josh bumped into Dawn in the hallway and sent her in to see Bryan. He found Beth in the kitchen. He didn’t have to search for her; he just seemed to automatically know where she would be. She was standing with her back against the counter, sipping cocoa and looking pensive, and she didn’t know he’d stepped in just yet. He paused for a moment to enjoy that; observing her, drinking her in when she wasn’t on guard. She always seemed to be on guard around him, always holding something back, even when they made love. It felt as if she didn’t quite trust him not to destroy her.
And why should she, given the size of the secret he was keeping?
She had on plaid flannel pajama bottoms. The top that went with them wasn’t winter wear, a gray, tiny thing with thin straps, short enough to reveal an inch of midriff, clingy enough to make his mouth water. A heavy bathrobe was flung over the back of a chair nearby; he thought the warmth of the kitchen had made her take it off and gave silent thanks to the old furnace for hanging in there. They’d cranked it up for Bryan’s sake. The fireplace was going, too, and judging from the mess on the counter and the mouthwatering aroma in the air, the oven was on.
Beth finally looked his way, caught him staring, smiled gently. “How’s our boy doing?”
Josh couldn’t quite put a name to the kind of feeling it gave him when she sent that smile his way. Comfort, maybe? Healing? It was magical, whatever he called it. “We just had the first real conversation we’ve had since his mother died.”
“And?”
“And…it was good.”
She pushed off from the counter, setting her cup aside and opening the oven. The aroma that wafted out made his mouth water. He saw the chocolate chip cookies, and his stomach rolled over in delight. “Yeah? You gonna give me any details?” She used a spatula to remove the cookies from the tray, laying them on a wire rack to cool. When she got to the final cookie, she carried it to the table, snatched up a napkin and set the cookie on it in front of him. “Cocoa or tea?”
“You don’t need to wait on me.”
“Sure I do. It’s my turn.” She pirouetted to the stove, turned on the heat under the teapot, then got out a clean cup and emptied a packet of cocoa mix into it.
Josh reached for the cookie, burned his fingers and promised his mouth it was coming soon. “He told me he loved me, Beth. I haven’t heard him say that since he was eight years old.”
“Oh, Josh.”
When he looked at her, she had a hand pressed to her heart, and he knew she understood just how much the conversation had meant to him. Of course she knew. She met his eyes and told him so without a word; then she turned to the fridge and stretched up onto her tiptoes, reaching up on top for something.
He frowned, then, because her top stretched up, revealing more of her back, and he saw the long, linear scar that didn’t belong with her smooth, taut skin. He’d never noticed it before—and as he thought about that, he knew why. The first time they’d slept together it had been in the dark, and the second time she’d kept her camisole on.
She came to earth with a bag of minimarshmallows in hand and caught him staring. “What’s wrong?”
“I…just noticed the scar on your back.”
“And winced ’cause it’s so darn pretty?”
He made a face. “And winced at the thought of a bullet tearing through you.”
“Oh.” She dropped a handful of marshmallows into his cup, replaced the twist tie on the bag, then came closer to him and pulled up her shirt. She was looking down at her own middle, and one of her fingers absently touched a far smaller scar a few inches below her navel and slightly to the left. “This is where it went in. It really isn’t very deadly looking, is it? Barely as big as a dime.”
He put his hands on her hips, drew her closer and pressed his lips to the mark. His heart was breaking as he relived the moment, pulling the trigger, sending a searing hot piece of lead screaming through the air until it sank deep into this woman’s abdomen, burning her and tearing her insides apart.
He sat back, drawing his lips away, but his eyes remained glued to the spot. Why had he pulled the damn trigger? Hell, he knew why. More than likely he’d seen a muzzle flash and shot at it. It had been too dark to fire at more than flashes in the night. But it didn’t matter what he’d been shooting at—all that mattered was what he had hit.
“It went in here,” she said, poking the scar with her forefinger tilted at an upward angle. “Then it went up and right, because they were shooting from below. I was upstairs, you see.”
She drew a line with her finger, upward at an angle that crossed her belly button. “Tore my uterus to hell, in one side and out the other. Took out an ovary, nicked an artery. I was bleeding internally and didn’t even know it.” Her finger kept moving across her belly, around her waist to the scar on her back. “This is where they found the bullet. It hit a rib, fractured it, but that’s what finally stopped it.”
“God, Beth, I’m so sorry.”
She shrugged. “Don’t be silly. It’s not like you had anything to do with it. Besides, I’m fine. Just so long as you’re not the type to get all queasy over a few hard-won battle scars.”
“Nothing about you makes me queasy.” He ran his fingertips over the surgical scar. “I’ve been with you twice and never even noticed them. That’s how deeply you affect me.”
She smiled. “My effect on you isn’t the whole reason you never noticed them,” she said. “The little one on my front is barely noticeable, and I’ve been careful not to give you a good view of my unclothed back.”
“You didn’t want me to see the scar?”
“Shallow, isn’t it?”
“No.” He leaned closer and kissed the surgery scar, just as he had the entry wound scar. “You’re not shallow. You’re perfect.”
“I’m so far from perfect it’s laughable, Josh. And I wouldn’t want to be. But thanks for saying so.”
She was. She was the most perfect thing he’d ever seen. And he really didn’t think that observation was based on guilt, or on the situation, or on his buying into his own cover story. She’d been forged in fire, yeah. Hurt, brought down low, only to rise up again, stronger than before. To him, that was perfecti
on.
The teapot whistled. Beth turned to get it, poured steaming water into the cup, stirred and brought it to the table. He tried again with the cookie, cool enough now to eat, but hot enough that the chocolate chips were still melty. And the marshmallows in the cocoa were gooey and soft.
She returned to her work then, standing at the counter, spooning cookie dough from a bowl onto the cookie sheet. “I made up a room for Dawn. That means almost every room is full,” she said softly. “The usable ones, anyway. It’s almost like the inn is already up and running.”
“Except that none of them are paying guests,” he observed.
She shrugged. “I’m sure Arthur Stanton and his two cohorts would disagree. They’d say they’re paying by risking their lives to protect me.”
“You sound like you don’t buy into that,” Joshua said.
Beth shrugged. He couldn’t see her face, her back was toward him as she worked. “I think Mordecai is the real reason they’re all here. They want to catch him. Keeping me alive would be a bonus feather in their caps, but I don’t think it’s their priority. If they had to choose between capturing him or saving me, I think I’d be history.” She looked over her shoulder at him, as if waiting for him to comment on that. “What do you think?”
“I think…you’re a little too insightful for your own good.”
“Then you agree with me.”
He shrugged. “A few weeks ago, I wouldn’t have. But Arthur…he’s not the man I thought he was. I’m not so sure about him anymore.”
She slid the cookie sheet into the oven, reset the timer. “That wasn’t really an answer.”
He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter if keeping you alive is their first priority, Beth. It’s mine. And you can believe me when I tell you nobody will protect you the way I will.”
She smiled slowly, moved closer to him, bent low and kissed his ear. “My hero.”
“Hmm. Everyone gone to bed?” he asked.
“Everyone but Dawn. I’m sure she’s still in with Bry.”
“She’ll sleep like a log. They both will tonight.”
She lifted her brows. “What about Arthur and company?”
“I don’t really care about them. Do you?”
“No.”
“So is that the last batch of cookies?”
She smiled slowly. “Yeah. But you’ve been run ragged, up all night on no sleep, half-frozen—”
“I still have a pulse.”
She leaned down, and he pressed his mouth to hers, tasted evidence that she’d been sampling her own cookies, thought about getting her upstairs to bed….
The doorbell rang.
Josh frowned, eyes popping open, mouth still on hers. She was frowning back at him. With a sigh, she pulled away. She looked tired, despite her cookie baking—which she was probably doing just to keep busy, he thought. To keep from thinking. To keep her fears at bay.
“Stay here and relax,” he said. “Drink some cocoa. I’ll go see who it is.”
“You still have your gun with you?”
“Naturally.” He glanced worriedly at the back door, the darkness beyond the glass. “Never mind. Come with me.”
She shrugged but didn’t argue. Instead she tossed her pot holders onto the counter and walked with him back through the house. He liked that she walked close to him, and that he didn’t have to tell her not to line herself up with the door or a window. Then again, she’d been living under the looming threat of Mordecai Young for a long time. She probably knew more about caution than he ever would.
“Who’s there?” he called.
“An old friend of Beth’s. Sort of.”
It was a woman’s voice. Josh sent Beth a questioning look. She frowned at him, then approached the door. Josh didn’t like that, so he pulled a gun, and moved around to one side, behind the door, then peered out the window there. “One woman. Blond. Alone.” He gave Beth a nod. “I think it’s okay.”
Beth nodded, flipped the locks and pulled the door open just a little. Then she blinked and opened it wider. “Jax?”
The newcomer smiled, even while rubbing her arms. There was snow in her hair. “Long time no see. How are you, Elizabeth?”
“Fine. I mean…God, come in. What on earth are you doing here?”
The woman walked into the house and without glancing at Josh, said, “You can put it away. I’m no threat. Nice work, though.” And she pushed the door closed behind her.
Josh frowned, already tucking his gun back into its holster. He reached behind the woman to lock the door again, sizing her up as he did. She was pretty but didn’t seem to know it, or maybe she just didn’t care. No makeup, long blond hair gathered in a careless ponytail that hung down her back, shapeless trousers over a pair of suede boots, all topped by a stereotypical cop’s trench coat, dark gray. If he was reading her right, and he thought he was, she was deciding whether to hug Beth hello or just settle for a handshake. She opted for the handshake. Apparently the two hadn’t been the hugging sort of friends.
Josh cleared his throat, and Beth looked at him quickly. “I’m sorry. I’m just so surprised—Joshua, this is Lieutenant Cassandra Jackson.”
“Lieutenant?” He extended a hand.
She took it. “For now. Syracuse Police Department,” she told him. “But you can call me Jax.”
“You’re bucking for a promotion,” Beth said, smiling.
“Yeah, have been since you left. I was standing close enough to you that day in Virginia that they decided to give me some of the credit. I figure a bump up the ladder ought to come with it.”
“You deserve it.”
“I didn’t do a damn thing.” Jax glanced at Josh again. “What department are you with?”
He blinked, unprepared to answer.
“Fed?” she asked. “You’re definitely law enforcement.”
“No.”
“Former, then. You don’t look old enough to be retired.”
“I’ve never been in law enforcement, Lieutenant Jackson.”
She blinked, met his eyes, and he read them without even trying. They said she knew better but wouldn’t push it, in case he had legitimate reasons for lying. Meanwhile, Beth was looking curiously from one of them to the other.
“Josh is a bodyguard,” she explained.
“Private security consultant,” he clarified.
“Smart move, hiring your own,” Jax said with a nod. “You can’t trust the Feds.”
“I agree, but I didn’t hire him. The government did.”
Now Jax’s frown was clearly disbelieving, and when she looked at him again, it was with suspicion in her eyes. She had to know the government had its own agencies and its own men, and rarely hired outsiders for this sort of thing.
“Jeez, take off your coat,” Beth said. “Come on in and sit. Did you drive all the way up here?”
Jax walked farther into the house with Beth, but Josh felt her eyes on him, probing. She knew something wasn’t right with his story. He decided to make nice, see if he could win her over, even though he sensed it would be a wasted effort. His gut told him this one was a good cop. Not easily fooled nor, he thought, put off the scent.
“So what brings you to Blackberry, Lieutenant?” he asked.
“Jax,” she reminded him. “I had a call from Julie Jones. She filled me in, told me Dawn was up here.”
Beth said, “I knew she was going to call you, but I thought you’d phone us, not drive all the way up here.”
Jax shrugged. “Jewel sounded worried to death, but with the weather, she can’t get up here for a couple of days, and she knows damn well the kid won’t go home.”
Beth nodded. “She’s right. I told Dawn I was sending her home, and she promised she’d head back here at the first opportunity. I figure it’s better to keep her here, where I can at least watch out for her until Julie can come and get her.” She waved to the most comfortable chair in the living room, and Jax sat down.
“That’s what Julie thought, too,” sh
e said. “I was in the middle of my vacation week, so I thought I’d take a drive up here. See if I could be of any help.”
“That’s incredibly generous of you,” Beth said.
“Not really.” Jax didn’t relax in her chair. She sat upright, leaning slightly forward, feet evenly spaced and flat on the floor, elbows on her knees. “Julie said Young was up here. I’ve always wanted another shot at collaring the bastard.” She glanced at Josh. “It would be a major bust.”
“Are you looking to be the next chief?” Josh asked. “Or skipping straight to mayor?”
She shrugged. “My captain’s retiring next year. I wouldn’t mind that job. Who knows?”
He nodded. A good cop and an ambitious cop. Hell, it just got better and better, didn’t it?
“Julie said you were turning this place into an inn,” Jax observed.
“Re-turning it,” Beth said. “It was an inn once, but it’s been a while.”
“I’d love to be your first paying guest.”
Beth glanced at Josh, real regret in her eyes. “We aren’t technically open for business yet,” she began, “and right now, all the rooms are—”
“A mess,” he interrupted. “But if you can give us twenty minutes, we can have a room ready for you.”
Beth frowned at him, but he sent her a reassuring look. Hell, he wasn’t planning to sleep alone tonight, anyway. It wouldn’t take any time at all to move Beth’s stuff into his room and change the bedding.
A bell pinged, and Beth jumped up. “That’s my timer,” she said. Then she smiled at Jax. “I’ll be right back with warm, gooey chocolate chip cookies fresh from the oven, and a cup of hot cocoa for you. Then you can relax while we get your room ready, all right?”
“Sounds great.”
Beth rushed off to the kitchen. Josh got up and started to follow, but the second Beth was out of earshot, Jax said, “So what is it you’re keeping from her?”
He stopped, his back to the woman. “What do you mean?”
“Come on, I saw you take up position behind the door. The stance, the way you held your gun. I know a cop when I see one. You undercover?”
“Something like that.”
Colder Than Ice Page 31
