“Where are the other tapes, Elly? The ones in the house?”
“Taped inside the wall behind the phone jacks.”
“Good woman. You may not think you trust me, but we make a swell team, sugar. That means something.” With a bullet in his blood-smeared shoulder and bruises still marking him, coughing with smoke-filled lungs, he was incandescent with energy, an energy that carried over to her and made her believe they would survive in spite of the crackling and spitting of the fire as it swooshed up the walls to the ceiling. He coughed into the phone. “We’re about ninety seconds from being crispy critters here, Beau. ASAP, buddy.”
Sweat drenched, Elly regarded Royal solemnly. “Okay. We’ve called in the cavalry. But I’d like to leave, if you don’t mind.”
“Hell, sugar, I don’t mind at all. But damned if I see how we’re going to.”
She didn’t, either. Suffocating with smoke, she doubled over. “It’s getting hard to breathe.” Her eyes rolled back, and she sagged onto the bed.
Royal leaned forward and kissed her, breathing his air into her again and again, giving her time. Sparks rained down on him as he scrambled to pull out the sheet underneath them and cover her with it. It looked like the fates were going to cheat them out of the time they needed. And he wanted time with Elly. With Tommy. He wanted time.
Beau couldn’t get anyone to them soon enough, not even with helicopters. Scanlon would be stopped, but he and Elly would be ashes.
Looking at Elly’s sooty, unconscious form, Royal roared, a raw, animal sound of pain and fury. He’d be damned if he was going to let her die like this. Not his Elly, and by God, she was his, whether she’d admit it or not. She’d been right with him while he played Scanlon for time. Smooth as the Texas two-step, she’d followed his lead and given them the small chance they had.
Working the cuff around his left wrist furiously against the horizontal bar, he studied the post. The bulbous top was welded onto the post. It couldn’t be lifted off. The horizontal bar was solid and too thick. Roaring, he jerked up against it, again and again, willing it with all his adrenaline-fueled energy to break.
Coughing, Elly stirred against him. “Wait,” she said, straining to speak. “I can get my hand out.”
He didn’t see how she possibly could without cutting it off.
Standing upright, she pulled against the cuff and folded her thumb under her palm. Coughing and fighting for breath, she jerked against the cuff, trying to slide her small hand free.
He could see the red, bloody streaks where the metal scraped into her skin, and rage exploded inside him. She’d never be able to get her hand free. She was going to die here in this smoke-filled cabin, and there wasn’t anything he could do to save her. “Damn you, Scanlon,” he roared, and lifted upward with all his strength against the frame, shoving and pulling and lunging against the bar that was going to kill them.
Banging and smacking against the wall, the narrow headboard flew free of the mattress supports and hung from the chain between Elly and him.
Soot and ashes smeared her face as she looked at him, uncomprehending.
“Did you ever enter the potato-sack race, sugar, when you were a kid?”
She nodded, and looked at the heavy rectangle. “Okay. Lead the way.”
He did. Holding the sheet over them, he shoved her in front of him, lifting her over the floorboards that burst into flames underneath them. He scooped up one of the cartridges and the gun, loading it one-handed and ignoring the shrieking pain in his shoulder.
Scanlon was a shadow under the tree at the edge of Michael’s property. Royal took aim, pointing the gun at the man who’d almost destroyed Elly, who’d terrified her and never given her credit for courage and heart. Sweat poured into Royal’s eyes. Staring at that figure, the figure of the man who’d fathered Tommy, Royal hesitated, only an instant. Maybe it was his sweat-blurred vision. Maybe it was pain and exhaustion. Maybe it was the reluctance to face Tommy with the blood of his father on his hands. Whatever, that hesitation gave Scanlon the time he hadn’t given Elly and Royal.
Growling with frustration, Royal dropped the gun and ran with Elly toward the creek and safety.
In that mad dash, the head frame dragging between them, Royal threw his head back and shouted with laughter. “Sweetheart, by God, we’re going to make it. I love you, Elly Malloy.”
At the creek, he bathed her feet and his in the tepid water while the cabin burned behind them. Blisters were already forming on her feet, and scarcely aware of the sharp pain in his shoulder, he dragged her into his lap to keep her from trying to walk down the rough shore. “Wait, Elly. Beau will be here soon. You’re going to be all right. And then you’ll see Tommy.”
Holding her like that while Michael’s cabin crackled and blazed against the sky, Royal realized how close they’d come to death. He’d almost lost her.
Instead, against all understanding, he’d saved her. And that was enough. Watching the sparks fly against the dark sky, he smiled. Elly was alive. Anything was possible. Even forgiveness.
When Beau finally arrived, the cabin was smoldering ashes, the wood glowing red in the darkness. “Remind me not to lend you anything again, Royal.” Beau contemplated the ruins. “They caught Scanlon. Fortunately, it was after he ran his car into a tree.”
“Dead?” Royal coughed. “Better this way. On Elly. On Tommy.”
“Yep.” Beau glanced over where paramedics had strapped Elly to a cart and clamped an oxygen mask over her face. “She’s going to be okay.”
“Yeah.” Inhaling smoke-tinged fresh air, Royal couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across his face. “She sure is.”
*
Impatient to go to Elly, Royal let the emergency-room surgeon stitch him up. The wound was mostly a flesh wound that looked worse than it was, and he fidgeted, trying to hurry the doctor who was putting in careful, neat stitches that seemed to take forever.
But Elly wouldn’t let him see her. She told Beau and Leesha to keep him away. Grimacing in sympathy, they did. The police retrieved the tapes. Scanlon’s will, unchanged since before the divorce, left everything to Tommy. Elly was appointed executor of the estate, or whatever would be left after the legal tangle was straightened out.
And during the long, lonely days without her, Royal kept busy. He nursed his bruises, his sore shoulder, and felt the tenderness move through him stronger with each day, changing him as if he’d been reborn in that creek in the Everglades.
He played solitaire and thought about the past year of his life, the turns and twists it had taken. Thought about pride. And consequences. And loneliness. He thought a lot about that state of being. And about Elly, alone, raising Tommy.
He thought a lot about Elly and how she’d made love with him, to him. A woman like her didn’t give herself easily. Those moments had been important to her.
He thought about Maggie, too, and how he’d thought he was in love with her.
He knew what he wanted now, what he needed as much as the air he breathed. Elly. And Tommy. Tommy, who looked at him as if Royal held all the answers to all the unasked questions the kid would ever have. Tommy, who needed a father. Elly, who needed⦠Well. Royal hoped she needed him. Wanted him. Shuffling the cards, he watched their smooth surfaces blend one into the other, the bright, gay designs shifting back and forth. He’d gambled everything away once. Why couldn’t he win everything of importance back? Riffling the cards in a lightning-quick movement, he looked around his house. Elly liked his house. Tommy liked him. And he was nuts about the silly kid. And Elly? Well, she’d do anything for her kid.
Royal flicked the cards down. Hell’s bells. Every gambling man ought to have an ace up his sleeve.
He found her alone in her ticky-tacky house, a house he’d grown quite attached to, despite Scanlon’s quite accurate assessment of its architecture. He rang the doorbell politely and waited. When she opened the door, he said, “Still don’t check to see who’s at your door?”
“I
knew.” Her hair was shorter, the burned ends trimmed. Her feet and wrist were bandaged, and she was wearing baggy shorts and a ratty shirt tied under her breasts, and she was beautiful.
He stuck out the glossy bouquet of pink roses and baby’s breath. “Here.”
Her mouth twitched, and hope leapt in him. Painful, invigorating, that sense of caring, of love.
“Aren’t you going to ask me in?”
“That’s not a good idea.” She took the flowers and buried her face in them. “These are so ⦠sweet,” she whispered.
“Yeah.” He shifted uncomfortably. “Let me in, Elly. I have to talk with you. And when we’re through, if you don’t want to see me ever again, you won’t.”
Startled, she lifted her eyes to his, hesitated and then swung the door open. “All right. Come in. We’ll have to sit in the kitchen, though. My landlady decided she wanted her couch back.”
“A decorating steal.”
Leading the way to the kitchen, she looked back over her shoulder at him. In the gloomy hall, he thought she almost smiled. Or maybe it was wishful thinking.
“Sit.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He folded himself into her uncomfortable chair.
She did smile then. “What did you want to talk about, Detective? Yes, Beau told me. I’m happy for you, Royal, that you’re back doing what you love.” She shrugged. “Really, I mean that.”
“I know.” He leaned over the table and fanned out the cards he’d brought with him. Their gaudy faces gleamed against the scratched and gouged table. “Where’s Tommy?”
“He’s spending the night at Katie’s. They’re having pizza.”
“Oh.” He smoothed the cards back and forth into elaborate, intricate designs. “Why wouldn’t you let me see you, Elly? At the hospital? Why did you make my friends keep me away from you? I was worried about you. Tell me why, Elly.” He stacked the cards in front of him.
“I had to figure out what I wanted out of life, what I wanted the rest of my life to be like. What I felt about ⦠things.” Her cheeks went pink.
“And what do you think ⦠about things, Elly?”
She shrugged.
Eyeing her intently, recognizing the sturdy pride so like his own, Royal said, “Play one last game with me, Elly.”
“What?” She sank into the chair opposite him and folded her legs beneath her so that her feet weren’t resting on the floor. “You want me to play cards with you? You came over here for that?”
“Yeah. One hand. That’s all. And then I’m out of your life.”
“I see.” She fanned the cards across the table. “And what are the stakes?”
“If I win, you have to spend one month with me, you and Tommy, getting to know me, letting me have a second chance, a chance to make up for what I did.”
“And if I win?” she asked slowly, flipping the cards back and forth between her slim fingers.
“Then I’m out of your life for good. If that’s what you want.”
She leaned back and studied him. “One hand? A high-stakes poker game?”
“That’s it.”
“Deal, buster,” she said, and leaned forward with a small smile.
Elly kept her eyes down as she picked up the cards. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Finally, the cards sorted, she looked up. Royal’s expression was as bland as custard pudding. He’d already sorted his cards and had laid them facedown, waiting for her.
“Want another card?”
“No, I ⦠I think I’ll stay.” Darned right she would. Even she knew a royal flush was a pat hand, an impossibly lucky winning hand. Looking at the cards, she tried to figure out what Royal was up to.
“Forgiveness, Elly,” he murmured, tapping his cards against the table. “Can you forgive me?”
She frowned. And then, in a flash so bright she wondered it didn’t set the house to shaking, she understood. “You knew Blake was up to something when you accepted his offer, didn’t you, Royal?”
He nodded and tapped the cards.
“Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you defend yourself? Why didn’t you explain? Why did you let me believe you betrayed Tommy and me to him?”
“Because.” He tapped the cards again and looked out the window.
“Pride.”
He lined the edges of his cards up and didn’t answer, but the pulse at the side of his forehead beat too quickly.
“You wanted me to have faith in you, no matter what.” Sighing, she laid her own cards facedown. “That’s a dangerous habit, Royal. Testing people. Trust is a two-way street. You have to ⦠you have to give them a bridge to cross.” She felt heat rise wickedly up her neck, and she picked up her cards again. “Let me understand the bet here. If you win, you’ll compel me and Tommy to spend time with you?”
“Yeah. That’s about it.” His expression never changed.
“You know you can’t make me do that, don’t you?”
“Honor. Fair play. You can’t back out of a debt, Elly.”
“So I hear. And if I win, I never have to see you or talk to you again? You’ll disappear from my life? You promise?”
He nodded slowly, the light in his eyes dimming. “Yes.”
“And you’ll disappear from Tommy’s life, too?”
He nodded. His mouth was clamped tight.
Elly shook her head. “I don’t know if I believe that. See, I know you’ve read the story every day this week at the day-care center. You’ve taken the kids for ice cream, and you donated a wading pool to the center. Alicia keeps me informed.” She picked up her cards again and studied them. There was no way she could lose with the hand he’d dealt her.
He had dealt the cards. She knew him. He’d deliberately lost once before. And now, the cheat, the scoundrel, was going to lose again, because he’d stacked the deck against himself. Lifting her eyes, she glared at him.
“Bad cards, sweetheart?” he asked sympathetically.
“Lousy.” Hiding the excitement flooding her, she continued to glare at him. She finally understood his message. He was telling her the choice was up to her. He was giving her the control over what happened next. Well, she knew what she wanted, what she’d wanted since the night at the cabin. Slapping the cards down on the table, she said, “Sometimes a woman’s got to know when to hold ‘em, when to fold ‘em. I fold. You win.”
He knocked the table over getting to her, and cards sprayed across the dingy floor. “Do you know what you’re agreeing to, sweetheart? Do you know what I want?”
“Want? An interesting term. A puny, paltry, halfhearted word, I think. What does it mean to you?”
“It means, witchâ” he lifted her up against him and locked her legs in back of his waist “âthat I want to live the rest of my life with you. And with Tommy the Curious. It means I want to be there at night when you go to sleep and in the morning when you wake up all drowsy and messy haired.”
“Not a smooth talker, are you?” She rested her head on his chest.
“And it means I wantâoh, Elly, I want like you’ve never imagined. If you want me even a tenth as much, you’d have to forgive me. I was trying to protect you, and I was arrogant and pushy, andâ”
“Shut up, Detective. And kiss me. We’ll work out the terms of payment in the morning.”
“Whatever you say. I’m yours to command.” He kissed her, his mouth slanting over hers.
“I like that. Commanding you,” she whispered.
“I love you, Elly-Abby, whoever.” He bumped into the door frame. “I could live without you if I had to. I thought it would be enough just to know you’re in the world, alive. But don’t send me away, Elly. Don’t leave me out in the cold, alone. Without you. Without Tommy. Let me come home.”
“And I thought you weren’t a sweet-talking man,” she said on a tiny sob. “Come home, Royal. And let me go there with you.”
And in the dim afternoon that blended into night, he took them home.
*
&nbs
p; She came to him across sands rosy gold with the late-afternoon sun, down a pathway lit with torches plunged into the sand dunes. Her pale pink dress was some gauzy, floaty thing that swirled around her like the clouds pink with the sunset. Her floppy, pale straw hat was trimmed with a long pink bow and pale roses. And if he’d thought he loved her before, that love was only a shadow of the love filling him now with each step she walked barefoot toward him, Tommy Lee by her side, her soft gaze never wavering from his.
Walking in front of her in a gaudy, glorious sarong, Leesha sent Beau an enigmatic glance. At Royal’s side, Beau shifted, and a smile blazed across his face.
“I love you, Royal,” Elly murmured as she reached him and curled her small hand into his. “I choose you, to spend my life with, to love, for all my days. And I trust you, Royal, with my heart, with my son, with myself.” Her smile was lit with sunshine and happiness.
“You gonna be my daddy?” Squinting up at him, Tommy dug a bare toe in the sand. “Forever?”
Royal squatted to face him. “Forever, Tommy Lee. That okay with you?”
Tommy nodded slowly, thoughtfully. “And you won’t make my mommy cry? Ever?”
“I might. But she’ll forgive me. And I’ll love both of you with everything in my heart.” Royal waited, watching Tommy’s face. “Okay?”
Tommy slipped his hand into Royal’s. “No problem.”
Leaning over Tommy’s head, Royal slanted his mouth over Elly’s. “Let me love you, Elly. Please?”
“No problem,” she murmured, opening her mouth to his and softening against him. “I wish you would.”
Sinking into the glossy-smooth gulf, the sun flared around them, a message of hope, of redemption. Of forgiveness.
A pledge. A promise that darkness would yield to the light, that blaze of sunlight gilded Royal’s hair, shone in his eyes as Elly kissed him back and felt the steady beat of his heart against hers, a promise of its own.
*
RENEGADE'S REDEMPTION Page 27
