by Rita Herron
Wade’s hulking shadow filled the doorway. She could smell the sweat and beer and grease from the shop. His breathing got faster.
He started toward her, and she closed her eyes. She had to go somewhere in her mind, someplace safe where she couldn’t feel him touching her.
Then everything went black....
The sound of keys jangling outside the prison door startled her back to reality. The door screeched open, a guard appeared, one hand on the arm of the man shackled and chained beside him.
Hank. God... Her heart stuttered, tears filling her eyes. She remembered him as a young boy—choppy sandy blond hair, skinny legs, eyes too hard for his age, mouth always an angry line.
But he was a man now, six feet tall with muscles. His eyes were cold and hard, his face and arms scarred from prison life. He was even angrier, too, his jaw locked, a vein pulsing in his neck.
He shuffled over to the chair, pulled it out, handcuffs rattling as he sank into it. The guard stepped to the door, folded his arms and kept watch.
She waited on Hank to look at her, and when he did, animosity filled the air between them. He hated her for not visiting.
She hated herself.
A deep sense of grief nearly overwhelmed her, and she wanted to cry for the years they’d lost. She’d spent so much of her life struggling against the gossip people had directed toward her because of her father’s arrest, and then Hank’s, that she hadn’t thought about how he was suffering.
For what seemed like an eternity, he simply stared at her, studying her as if she were a stranger. He shifted, restless, and guilt ate at her.
“You came,” he finally said in a flat voice. “I didn’t think you would.”
The acceptance in his tone tore at her. Maybe he didn’t blame her, but he was still hurt. “I’m sorry I didn’t visit you before. I should have.”
Hank shrugged as if he didn’t care, his orange jumpsuit stark against his pale skin. But he did care. He’d always acted tough, but on the inside he was a softie. When she was little, he used to kiss her boo-boos to make them better.
No one had been here to soothe him the past few years, though.
“I’m so sorry, Hank. At first, there was so much happening—the Department of Children and Family Services the foster system, your trial...” And then she’d had to testify to what she’d remembered.
Her testimony had sealed his fate. “I should have lied back then, said I didn’t see anything.”
Another tense second passed. “You were only a kid, Avery.”
“So were you.”
His gaze locked with hers, the memories of the two of them huddled together out in the rain after their mother had left them returning. I’ll take care of you, Hank had promised.
And he did.
How had she paid him back? By abandoning him.
He cleared his throat. “I tried to find out what happened to you after I got locked up, but no one would tell me anything.”
Avery twined her fingers on the table. “Nobody wanted to take me,” she admitted. “I wound up in a group home.”
He made a low sound of disgust in his throat. “Was it bad?”
Avery picked at her fingernails to keep from rubbing that damned scar. “Not as bad as...the Mulligans.” Nothing had been as bad as living with them.
Of course, Hank might argue that prison was.
“They told me you didn’t remember the details of that night.” Hank lowered his head, then spoke through gritted teeth. “I’m glad. I hated what he did to you. He was a monster.”
Shame washed over Avery. She’d never told anyone except the therapist the truth. But Hank knew her darkest secret.
Avery reached across the table and laid one hand on his.
“I’m so sorry for everything, Hank. I know you killed Wade for me.” Tears clogged her throat. “I...should have spoken up, told someone about what he was doing. Maybe it would have helped get you off, or at least they’d have given you some leniency and a lighter sentence.”
Hank studied her for a long few minutes, his expression altering between anger and confusion. “You still don’t remember?”
She swallowed hard. “Just that he was drinking. That you fought with him, and he tied you up. Then he came in my room.” She pressed a finger to her temple, massaging where a headache pounded. The headaches always came when she struggled to recall the details. “Then everything went black until I saw you with that knife.”
Hank pulled his hand away and dropped his head into his hands. “God, I don’t believe this.”
Avery watched him struggle, her heart pounding.
“Hank, I’m sorry. I should have lied about seeing you with that knife. You always stood up for me, and I let you down.” Her voice cracked with regret.
The handcuffs clanged again, as he reached for her hands this time. The guard stepped forward and cleared his throat in a warning, and Hank pulled his hands back.
“Look at me, Avery,” Hank said in a deep voice. “I didn’t kill Wade.”
“What?”
“I didn’t kill him,” Wade said again, his voice a hoarse whisper.
Avery gaped at him. Was this a last-minute attempt to save himself from death? “But...you told them you hated him, that you were glad you’d stabbed him.”
He leaned closer over the table, his look feral. “I did stab him, but he was already dead when I stuck that blade in him.”
“What?” Avery’s head reeled. “Why didn’t you tell the police that?”
“Because I thought you killed him,” Hank hissed.
Avery gasped. “You...thought I killed him?”
“Yes.” The word sounded as if it had been ripped straight from his gut. “He was in your room, and there was no one else there in the house. And you had a knife. It was bloody.”
“What?” Avery looked down at her hands. “But I don’t remember that.”
Hank rubbed hand down his face. “I...I took it from you. You were...hysterical, in shock.”
Avery tried to piece together the holes in her past. “But...I didn’t kill him, Hank. At least I don’t think I did.”
Hank’s eyes narrowed. “You said you blacked out?”
She had lost time, lost her memory. Because she’d stabbed Wade herself?
Her pulse thundered. Had she let Hank go to jail to cover for her?
God... “Hank, tell me the truth. Did you see me stab him?”
“No, not exactly.” Hank rolled his hands into fists on the table, his scarred knuckles red from clenching his hands so tight. “But I heard him going into your room that night. I knew what he was going to do. I’d known it when Joleen left that morning and I’d been dreading it all day.”
So had she.
“So I sneaked a knife under my pillow. But he tied me up like always. I lay there and heard the door open, and I got angry.” His cheeks blushed with shame. “Then I heard you crying again, and I got madder and madder. He was a monster, and I was your big brother. I had to do something.”
“But you did,” Avery said, her heart aching as memories surfaced. “You tried to pull him off me before, and he beat you for it.” She paused, struggling with the images hitting her. Wade on top of her. Wade holding her down.
Or was that another night? So many of them bled together....
Nights of Wade shoving Hank against the wall and beating him with his belt. His fists. A wooden mallet. Anything he could get his hands on.
“I wanted to kill him,” Hank said, his voice gaining force. “So I twisted in the bed until I got hold of that knife and cut myself free. But when I made it to your room, Wade was already bleeding on the floor. His eyes were bulging, and he wasn’t breathing.”
Avery’s head swam. “He was already dead?”
&n
bsp; Hank nodded. “I thought you’d stabbed him. You were crouched on the bed, crying and shaking. I tried to get you to stop crying, but you wouldn’t. And you wouldn’t talk, either. You just kept staring at the blood, and I heard the siren and was afraid they’d take you away, and you didn’t deserve that.”
A cold chill enveloped Avery. “Oh, Hank, what have we done?”
Silence fell between them, fraught with emotion. They were both lost in the horror of that night.
Finally Avery swiped at her tears. “This is unreal.... You went to jail for nothing. I should have come forward and told everyone what he’d done to me.” Rage and pain suffused her for all Hank had lost. For what they’d both lost. “I’m so sorry.... We have to make this right. We have to get you out of here.”
Despair settled on Hank’s face, the scar on his temple stark beneath the harsh lighting. “It’s too late now. My execution is already set.”
She couldn’t let him die for a crime he hadn’t committed. “No, I’ll find a way,” she said. “I’ll talk to your lawyer.”
Hank grunted. “Not the one I had in the beginning. He didn’t give a crap. But there is a new lady, just out of law school. She came to see me a few weeks ago.”
“Did you tell her what you told me?”
Hank shook his head. “I was afraid they’d come after you and arrest you. There’s no way I’d let you end up in this place.”
Avery’s throat burned with regret, yet her anger gave her strength. “What was this lawyer’s name? I’ll talk to the warden, and then I’ll call her.”
“It won’t do any good,” Hank said, defeat in his voice. “I told you, it’s too late.”
“No, it’s not.” Avery took a deep breath. “What was that lawyer’s name?”
“Lisa Ellis,” Hank mumbled. “But I’m telling you, it won’t make any difference.” He gestured around the room, then at the guard. “I know how things work in here.”
Avery’s voice gained conviction. “I’m not going to let you die for something you didn’t do, Hank. I’ll talk to that lawyer and if she can’t help, I’ll find someone who will.”
Avery stood, anxious to make the phone call. Hank had given up hope long ago because she hadn’t been there for him.
No one had.
It was time that changed.
* * *
JAXON IDENTIFIED HIMSELF to the warden, a chuffy bald man with thick dark brows and ropes of tattoos on his arms, and explained that he wanted to visit Hank Tierney.
“Yes, you can see him, but this is odd,” Warden Unger said. “Tierney has only had one visitor in the past twenty years until today. Today he’s had two.”
Jaxon straightened his shoulders. “Who else came to see him?”
“His sister.” The warden scratched his head. “Obviously with the execution date approaching, she wanted to say goodbye.”
Or perhaps that lawyer Director Landers had mentioned had spoken with her.
The warden twirled the pen on his desk. “What brings you here?”
“My director wanted me to make sure the execution is still on.”
Warden Unger nodded. “Good. Thought you might be working for that pansy-ass attorney out to get a stay.”
“I take it that means you think Tierney is guilty.”
Unger shrugged and dropped the pen. “A jury convicted him. My job is to make sure these animals in here don’t slit each other’s throats, not argue with the court.”
A buzzer sounded on the warden’s desk, and his receptionist’s voice echoed over the speaker.
“Warden, Avery Tierney insists on seeing you right away.”
Unger glanced at Jaxon and Jaxon nodded in agreement. “Send her in.”
Jaxon had studied the files on the case before he’d driven to the prison. Avery Tierney had been the only person at the house when her brother murdered their foster father.
She was nine at the time, and according to the doctor who’d examined and interviewed her afterward, she’d been in shock and too traumatized to talk.
The door opened, and the warden’s secretary escorted Avery Tierney in.
Nothing Jaxon had read in the file prepared him for the beautiful woman who stepped inside. Avery Tierney had been a skinny, homely-looking kid wearing hand-me-downs with scraggly, dirty brown hair and freckles. She’d looked lost, alone and frightened.
This Avery was petite with chocolate-brown eyes that would melt a man’s heart and curves that twisted his gut into a knot.
Although fear still lingered in those eyes. The kind of fear that made a man want to drag her in his arms and promise her everything would be all right.
She looked back and forth between him and the warden. “Warden Unger,” Avery said, her voice urgent. “You have to help me stop the execution and get my brother released from prison.”
The warden cleared his throat. “Why would I do that, Miss Tierney?”
A pained sound ripped from Avery Tierney’s throat. “Because he’s innocent. He didn’t kill Wade Mulligan.”
Chapter Two
Jaxon forced himself not to react. Avery was obviously emotional over losing her brother, and desperate now that his execution was less than a week away.
Warden Unger gestured toward Jaxon. “This is Sergeant Jaxon Ward with the Texas Rangers. Sit down, Miss Tierney, and tell us what’s going on.”
Avery’s brows pinched together as she glanced at Jaxon. “You came to help Hank?”
Jaxon gritted his teeth. “I came to talk to him,” he said, omitting the fact that he’d actually come to confirm the man’s guilt, not help him.
Avery didn’t sit, though. She began to pace, rubbing her finger around and around her wrist as if it were aching.
His gaze zeroed in on the puckered scar there, and his gut tightened. It was jagged, ridged—maybe from a knife wound?
Was it self-inflicted or had someone hurt her?
* * *
AVERY TRIED TO ignore the flutter in her belly that Jaxon Ward ignited. She had never been comfortable with men, never good at flirting or relationships. And this man was so masculine and potent that he instantly made her nervous.
His broad shoulders and big hands looked strong and comforting, as if they could be a woman’s salvation.
But big hands and muscles could turn on a woman at any minute.
Besides, she had to focus on getting Hank released. Sorrow wrenched her at the thought that he’d been imprisoned his entire life for a crime he hadn’t committed.
“Miss Tierney?” Sergeant Ward said. “I understand you’re probably upset about the execution—”
“Of course I am, but it’s not that simple. I just talked to Hank and I know he’s innocent.”
That was the second time she’d made that statement.
“Miss Tierney,” the warden said in a questioning tone, “I don’t understand where this is coming from. You haven’t visited your brother in all the time he’s been incarcerated. And now after one visit, you want us to just believe he should be freed.”
“I should have come to see him before,” Avery said, guilt making her choke on the words. “I...don’t know why I didn’t. I was scared, traumatized when I was younger. I...blocked out what happened that night and tried to forget about it.”
“You testified against your brother,” Jaxon said. “You remembered enough to tell the police that you saw him stabbing Wade Mulligan.”
A shudder coursed up her spine as she sank into the chair beside the Texas Ranger. “I know,” she said, mentally reliving the horror. The blood had been everywhere. Hank had been holding the knife, his T-shirt soaked in Wade’s blood.
“But Hank just told me what really happened.” She gulped back a sob. “He said he found our foster father on the floor, alr
eady dead. He thought I killed him, so he covered for me.”
Jaxon and the warden exchanged skeptical looks. “Hank is desperate, Miss Tierney,” Jaxon said. “At this point, self-preservation instincts are kicking in. He’ll say anything to convince the system to reevaluate his case. Anything to stay alive.”
“But you don’t understand—” Avery said.
“He confessed,” Warden Unger said, cutting her off. “Besides, the psych reports indicated that your brother was troubled. Other foster parents testified that he was violent. Mulligan’s own wife stated that Hank was full of rage.”
“Yes, he hated Wade and so did I.” Avery’s anger mounted. “We both had good reason. Wade used to beat Hank, and he...” She closed her eyes, forcing the truth out. Words she’d never said before. “He abused me. Hank was only trying to protect me that night. He took beatings for me all the time.”
Jaxon leaned forward. “Protecting you and hating his abuser give him motive for murder,” he pointed out. “Although I’m surprised Hank’s attorney didn’t use that argument in his defense.”
“So you read his file?” Avery asked.
Jaxon shrugged. “Briefly.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Warden Unger said. “Hank Tierney confessed.”
“Because he thought I killed Wade,” Avery admitted in a broken voice. “That’s the reason he confessed. He thought I stabbed Wade, and he didn’t want me to go to jail.”
* * *
JAXON’S PULSE JUMPED at the vehemence in her voice. “Why would he think that you killed Mulligan?”
Avery stared down at her fingers, then traced that scar on her wrist again, a fine sheen of perspiration breaking out on her forehead.
“Because Wade...was coming into my room that night.” Avery’s voice trembled. “Joleen, our foster mother, left earlier that day, and Hank and I both knew what that meant.”
Jaxon had a bad feeling he knew as well, but he needed her to say it. “What did it mean?”
She visibly shuddered. “It meant we’d have a bad night,” she said in a faraway voice. “That Wade would be drinking.”
The pain in her eyes sent a shiver of rage through Jaxon.
