The Lawman's Last Stand

by Vickie Taylor

  “Shh, baby. Shh.” He rocked her against him, murmuring in her ear, praying she would stop. He didn’t care about her fists—she wasn’t hitting with enough force to hurt him—but her tears were killing him.

  Gradually her flaying fists slowed to a flutter. Her sobs evened out to long, cleansing breaths.

  He let her ease away from him.

  Gigi swiped the wetness off her cheeks. “I’m sorry.” A final shudder shook her shoulders. “I didn’t mean to fall apart like that.”

  “It’s all right. It was kind of reassuring, actually.” She gaped at him. He gave her arm one last squeeze, then let her go. “I was beginning to think nothing ever got to you.” Oliver rubbed his nose against Shane’s thigh, and Shane automatically dropped his hand to soothe the dog. “It was kind of…intimidating for us mere mortals. Right, Oliver?”

  A hint of a smile broke across Gigi’s mouth. She sniffed once more, loudly. “You should have known better. You got to me, didn’t you?”

  He answered her smile with a grin of his own. In the distance, a siren shrilled out its warning in the night.

  He held out his hand. “Come on. Time for us to go.”

  She took his hand without hesitation, but used it to hold him in place instead of following him. “But the police are coming.”

  “Then we’d better hurry.”

  “They’ll be looking for us.”

  “No, they won’t.” Moonlight highlighted the confusion scrolled in her features. “They’ll think we were in there,” he explained, nodding toward the burning house. “We’re better off dead.”

  Understanding dawned. “Or at least letting them think we’re dead.”

  “It’ll take days for them to sort through the rubble and figure out we weren’t inside when it blew.”

  She took a step forward, then stopped. “But Margo…?”

  “I hate to do it to her. But this place should have been safe. She would have made sure of it if there was any way she could have. Whatever is going on, even she can’t stop it.”

  The siren drew nearer. He tugged her forward again. “We have to go now, if we’re going.”

  “But where?”

  “Anywhere but here. It’s just you and me from now on.”

  Shane boosted Gigi over the wall, then helped Oliver skitter over and finally used the vines to pull himself up and to the other side. They dodged emergency vehicles racing down the street, covering their escape in the shadows of the sparse trees and by ducking behind buildings along the way.

  “Do you know where we are?” Gigi asked, trudging down an empty stretch of road.

  “Sure. We’ll hit civilization again in another mile or so.”

  True to his word, twenty minutes later they passed the outskirts of an industrial area and quickly cut through to a four-lane road. They walked by a few boxy houses, three liquor stores and a tattoo parlor before he felt Gigi close in beside him. A rusted, low-riding old boat of a car that might once have been a luxury vehicle cruised down the avenue, heavy rock music pulsing from its open windows. The car slowed as it passed by them, and Gigi pressed close to Shane’s side.

  Even Oliver moved in closer behind him.

  Without turning his head, Shane put his hand over hers and pulled her fingers over the pistol—her pistol—in his waistband, hoping she’d be reassured.

  The car moved on.

  Ahead a young woman in pink spandex paced nervously under a street lamp, an unlit cigarette dangling from one hand. The cruiser slowed again, pulling up next to her.

  Shane slowed his step, watching. The hooker leaned over the driver’s window. A hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, dragging her upper body into the car. The woman struggled, kicking at the door and clawing at the driver’s arm.

  Muttering an oath, Shane told Gigi to stay put. He reached the car in four long strides, chopped the driver’s arm once to make him let go of the girl, then shoved Gigi’s gun into the man’s neck. He didn’t have time for a lengthy discussion tonight.

  “Put the car in gear and drive. Don’t stop. Don’t look back. And don’t come back. Ever.”

  The car’s tires squealed against the pavement. Shane turned to the hooker behind him. God, she couldn’t be seventeen. Yet her honey-colored eyes held decades of experience.

  “Hey, big man,” she said, her voice shaking. “That was my rent money you just chased off.”

  “Yeah? Well now maybe you’ll live long enough to get evicted.”

  He saw her shudder, but she was tough. She covered it by stepping closer in a low, hip-swinging stride. “Well, since you saved my life and all, the least I could do is thank you properly.”

  He felt Gigi at his back. The hooker’s eyes flicked from him to Gigi and back. “I’ll be real nice to you. Give you something real special.” She flicked her hand out and brushed a chipped fingernail down the center of his chest.

  Shane fought not to recoil from her touch. Instead he reached into the front pocket of his jeans and pulled out the bills he found. “How much for all night?”

  Gigi’s fingers clenched on his shoulder.

  “Sixty bucks,” the girl said.

  Shane’s jaw ticked furiously. Hell of a price for dignity. “I’ve only got forty.” He shoved the bills in the girl’s hand.

  She grabbed for the bills, but Shane pulled them back.

  “One condition,” he said.

  “Yeah, there’s always a condition, ain’t there? What is it you like? Something kinky?”

  He pressed his last two twenties in her palm. “Just get off the street tonight. Get a room someplace decent if you don’t have a place to stay.”

  The hooker frowned. “Alone?”

  “Yeah. Alone. Take the night off. And while you’ve got all that time to think, think about calling the National Runaway Switchboard. Just dial the operator and she’ll connect you—it’s toll free.”

  “What are you, some kind of social worker?”

  “No. Just someone who believes kids ought to be home in their beds at night, not out prowling the streets.”

  Her mouth curled into a sneer and Shane thought she might argue, but something painful swirled in her overmade-up eyes. She closed her mouth and stuffed the money down the front of her dress. She whirled, calling over her shoulder, “Whatever you say, big guy. It’s your nickel.” The girl sauntered away, swinging her considerable—if immature—assets as she went.

  Turning, he met Gigi’s appraising look. “What?” he asked curtly.

  Her usually sharp blue eyes were as soft as a clear sky. “You. Saving the lost souls of the world.”

  “Some of those lost souls hit a little close to home.”

  She cocked one eyebrow. “There but for the grace of God…?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Did you ever run away from the youth home?”

  “No. I knew when I had it good. Three hot meals a day, a roof over my head and an education. They couldn’t have kicked me out of that place.” He turned and started walking, his arm looped through hers. “My mother was a runaway,” he said without looking up.

  “Is that how you ended up in the state’s care?”

  He nodded, still shuffling along. He’d never thought much about being abandoned as an infant. It was a fact of life for him. He’d never had a family.

  Given a choice, he’d take his life over Gigi’s. She’d had her father for eight years, and a mother, too. Long enough to realize what she’d lost.

  “How come you weren’t in a regular home?” she asked tentatively.

  “I was, a couple of times. The first foster couple I lived with would have adopted me, but the wife was diagnosed with cancer and well…they just had too much to deal with.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He shrugged. “I was just a baby. I don’t even remember them.”

  “After that?”

  “I was in a couple more foster homes. The Thompson family was nice, up until they decided to get divorced. Mr. Eaton got
transferred out of state. Eventually I got older. And nobody wants teenage boys. So I went back to the farm.”

  “The farm?”

  “The group home.” He looked at her sheepishly. “Kid farm.”

  She stopped, that look on her face again. The one so full of compassion it awed him. “Some tough guy you are. Your hide may be thick as old leather, but your heart is tender as a baby’s bottom, isn’t it?”

  He winced. “I’m not sure I appreciate that analogy. But I guess it’s better than you thinking I don’t feel anything at all.”

  “I’m beginning to think you feel more than anyone suspects. Including yourself.”

  He shuffled his feet on the cracked sidewalk. “Yeah, well, right now I feel like this is not the kind of neighborhood to be strolling around in at this time of night.”

  “You have an alternative?”

  “I did,” he admitted. “There are some cheap flophouses a few blocks down this road. But…”

  She smiled. “But you gave your flophouse money to that girl.”

  “Yep. Some hero I am. She’s probably out looking for another john already and we’re stuck on the street. We don’t have any money, we don’t have any food—”

  “We have each other.”

  She brushed her fingers across his arm and a wave of emotion surged inside him at her touch. They had each other. It was that simple for her. She believed in him and for that reason alone, he wouldn’t let her down.

  She smiled at him. He couldn’t imagine why, but it was genuine. “So tell me, Shane Hightower, while you’re out saving lost souls of the world, who saves you?”

  “I guess that would be you.” Her smile brightened. Carefully he lifted her hand from his arm and pulled her along the sidewalk.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “The train yard.”

  Fifteen minutes later they’d sneaked through the fence around the rail station and found an open car. Shane hoisted himself up, checked out the empty hull, then helped Oliver and Gigi up.

  Gigi leaned against him as he steadied her on her feet. Instead of letting her go, he pulled her against him and covered her mouth with his. She leaned against him, opening her lips to his querying tongue, kissing him back then retreating, enticing him closer.

  Before he realized he’d moved, he had her backed against the wall of the rail car. Her legs had parted and he was between her thighs, hard and aching and pulsing against her.

  He backed away with a forcible effort. “Stay here,” he ordered, hopping out of the car. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To see if I can scrounge up anything useful.”

  He’d thought long and hard on the way from the street where they’d left the hooker to the rail yard. Tried to identify the powerful tide pulling at him, sucking him under as they walked. He was drowning and still he wanted to go deeper. He didn’t know where the current would lead, or why. He only knew he had to get there. It was hell to want something so bad you’d die for it, without even knowing what “it” was.

  Lust was the only name he dared give it. He wanted Gigi. Wanted her with a ferocity that boiled in his blood. Wanted her with a bone-deep desire that wouldn’t be satisfied by a hasty coupling up against the dirty steel wall of a railroad car. He wanted to take her somewhere with satin sheets and down pillows. He wanted to lay her down and make slow, languorous love in tempo with the surf pounding the beach until she screamed with the gulls. Then, with a sea breeze refreshing their bodies, he wanted her again. And again.

  The only problem was—he didn’t think he could wait that long.

  Gigi huddled against the side of the car while she waited. Despite the warmth of the night air, she shivered. Her skin was still tingling from his touch, her senses heightened. Aroused.

  He would be back, she told herself. He wouldn’t leave her here. He wouldn’t leave her alone.

  A deeper shudder rattled down her spine and out to her limbs. Foolish as it was, she had to go after him.

  She didn’t want to be alone anymore.

  By the time she found him, he’d almost made it back to the rail car where he’d left her. She nearly shed her skin she jumped so fast when she cornered the end of a caboose and ran into him.

  “Gigi, what are you doing out here?” he whispered, turning her by her elbow and propelling her back the way she’d come.

  “I—I was afraid—”

  “Of what? There’s no one here but us.”

  “I know, but I was scared….” They stopped outside the door of the rail car. Shane dropped the bundle he’d been carrying, some kind of large tarp. “What’s that?” she asked, grateful for the opportunity to change the subject.

  “As close as I could get to satin sheets,” he said, smiling mysteriously. He picked up the sheaf of canvas and plopped it inside the car door, then helped her in and scooped up Oliver and tossed him in gently behind her.

  “I found the tarp over some crates back at the warehouse. I figured it would be at least a little bit cleaner than the floor in here.”

  He jumped into the car and cradled her jaw in his hand. “I’m sorry I can’t do better for you tonight.”

  His thoughtfulness touched a sensitive place inside her. She’d dragged him from his life. Cost him his job. Nearly gotten him killed. And he was worried about making her sleep on a dirty floor? “The tarp will be just fine,” she said.

  “It’s just for one night. Tomorrow—” he tangled his fingers in the curls at her nape “—tomorrow I’ll find something better. I promise.”

  The enormity of their situation weighed on her. They had no money. Nowhere to go. “Where?”

  “How about Mexico?”

  “Mexico? We can’t just— We don’t have any papers.”

  A low, serious chuckle rumbled up from his gut. “I learned a few smuggling tricks in my days with DEA. I can get us across the border.”

  “And what then?”

  “Then we start over. Work our way south.”

  “Just like Butch and Sundance.”

  “Just like Butch and Sundance.”

  She tried to tell him that she wasn’t sure she wanted to start over again. She’d already tried that, and it hadn’t been all she’d hoped. Because when all the material things in life were stripped away—home, job, even friends and family—you’re still who you were to begin with. With all the problems you had before.

  But Shane’s hand trailed down her neck, lingered near her breast and toyed with the top button on her sleeveless blouse.

  Gigi gathered her thoughts before her ability to speak deserted her completely. “Does this mean you believe me now, about my father?”

  His hands only paused a second. “It means I don’t care anymore. None of it matters—what you knew or didn’t know. All that matters is someone is trying to kill you. And I have to keep you safe.”

  That wasn’t quite the answer—the commitment—she wanted, but he slid the first button through the hole, paused to cup her breast in his warm, flat palm, and she couldn’t pull together enough words to argue.

  He moved on to the next button. “You never did tell me what you were afraid of outside.”

  The second button popped open. Then the third.

  “I was afraid you’d leave me.”

  His hand went still and he looked up, his eyes full of surprise. Then his expression grew fierce. “I’m not your father, Gigi. I won’t abandon you when you need me.”

  A sense of unreality surrounded her. She should have crumpled against him, but she held herself back. Her rigid body wouldn’t give in. How had he known? How had he figured out that was what she had been afraid of all along?

  She let herself fall against him.

  He yanked on her shirt, sending the buttons still fastened skittering across the floor and hauling her against him. One hand closed over her breast, shoving the cup of her bra out of the way until flesh touched flesh. His other hand spanned her throat just benea
th her jaw, forcing her head up and back.

  “Open your eyes,” he commanded, and she obeyed.

  He hesitated just long enough to squeeze her breast and roll his thumb over her peaked nipple before he continued. “You want to know what I’m afraid of, Gigi?”

  Fighting back the fog in her brain that his manipulative hand on her breast was causing, she nodded.

  He lowered his head and kissed her, openmouthed, hot and wet. “You’re so damn strong. I’m afraid you don’t need anyone. Including me.”

  Without waiting for any answer, he bent over and put his mouth where his hand had been. He laved her pebbled aureole until she bucked against him, and then he brought his mouth back to hers.

  “Tell me you need me,” he said against her lips.

  “I need you.”

  He pushed her shirt off her shoulders and it fell back, hanging around her hips like a skirt, its hem still tucked in the waist of her shorts. He twisted his body and paid homage to her other breast, kicking the tarp open at the same time. “Say it like you mean it.”

  “I need you,” she cried louder. And she did. She who hadn’t let herself need anyone since she’d been eight years old and the person she needed had let her down—she needed Shane Hightower.

  She sagged against him. Their mouths met, slid apart, and fused again. Shane bent her to the floor and followed her down. She opened herself to his probing tongue, let him ex plore and then kissed him back, demanding her own entry. Her hands slipped between them to tug on the waistband of his jeans. “I need you now.”

  Her shirt and shorts disappeared on a curse. His shirt sailed to the floor next to them. He rolled off her long enough to slide his blue jeans over his hips. She pulled on one leg while he kicked with the other.

  When all the barriers were gone at last, Shane poised over her on straining arms. He stopped with the head of his arousal pressing into her wet folds. “Gigi, there’s one other thing we’re lacking tonight besides food, money and a decent bed.”

  “What?” she asked breathlessly.

  “I don’t have any protection.”

  “That wasn’t a problem before.”

  “It should have been. I wasn’t thinking—”

  “Shane, I don’t care about protection.” She needed him so badly that she wouldn’t have cared if the rail car had been slowly filling with acid.