“Maybe. Maybe not. I never really gave our marriage a chance. I didn’t see it at the time, but I chose the ranch over Gayle long before she left. I probably shouldn’t have been surprised when she finally chose the city over me.”
It made sense. His desperation to sell his son on horseback riding. The stricken look that had crossed his face when Jason had said he hated the Circle J. “You’re worried Jason will hate the ranch like Gayle did, that he’ll leave you, too.”
Nick looked down at the fire. “When you say it out loud, it sounds pathetic.”
Melissa let the papers fall loose on her lap. She had a horrible urge to take him in her arms. To bring her lips to his like she had last night. To show him just how special she thought he was. “Your ranch is wonderful. It really is. But you know what?”
“Let me guess. I’m not my ranch?”
“You’re even better.” It was corny as hell, and she shouldn’t have said it. It was as reckless and stupid as last night’s kiss. But right then—after he’d admitted so much—she had to be honest.
“When I met you, I admit I was attracted to the whole cowboy fantasy. But in the past few days… You’re a good man, Nick. And that’s not only better than the Circle J, it’s better than the most gorgeous ranch on earth.”
“You’re saying the Circle J isn’t the most gorgeous ranch on earth?”
Melissa couldn’t stop a laugh. “Okay, that might have been hasty.”
“Might?”
“You win.”
“Say it.”
“The Circle J is the most gorgeous ranch on earth.”
Nick cupped her jaw in his palm and caressed her hair with his fingertips.
Melissa leaned her face into his touch. The feelings that had swamped her during their kiss welled inside, threatening to pull her under again. What she wouldn’t give to forget everything and just let herself feel.
Give herself over to that urge inside.
Let herself go.
A jitter seized low in her chest. Not butterflies. Not warmth. Something dark and cold and unforgiving. Reaching up to her cheek, she took his hand in hers and cradled it safely in her lap. It was one of the hardest things she’d ever had to do. “I never understood my mother. Not until now.”
His brows dipped low over his eyes. “Your mother?”
Melissa nodded. She knew it seemed like a non sequitur. To her, the leap from this out-of-control need to her mother was as natural as breathing. “She was the most generous person I’ve ever known. And the most dependent.”
“On you?”
“On men. She doted on them, lived for them. And they took advantage of it.”
“Boyfriends?”
“One after another. She was beautiful. Men liked her. Good thing. I don’t think she could have survived without taking care of a man. Physically. Emotionally. Monetarily when she could.”
Melissa felt Nick watching her, probably trying to figure out where in the world she was coming from, but she didn’t dare look up into his eyes. She just focused on his hands, rubbing her fingertips over thick calluses and square nails.
“And you? Did your mom take care of you?”
“I took care of her. Someone had to.”
“That had to be mighty hard on you.”
“Some of her boyfriends weren’t the best of men.”
“They hurt you?”
She shook her head. That would probably make sense to him. That she didn’t want to get involved because she’d been abused. “I was lucky. And when I felt anything… like a leer or threat… I didn’t stick around.”
“You ran away?”
“Waited for the booze to wear off. Waited for the boyfriend to leave. Waited until I was picked up by the cops. Only one time when I was brought back, my mother was no longer there.”
“What happened?”
“She was killed. Murdered by her boyfriend.”
He turned the tables on her, this time, rubbing his fingers over hers, cupping her hands with his. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Not for me, anyway. The guy who brought me back that time was an officer named Jimmy Bernard. And he changed my life.”
He nodded, as if he understood her bond with Jimmy.
“And he never left.” She tried to swallow, but her throat was too thick to function. Funny she could talk about her mother’s tragic death without batting an eye, but even good things about Jimmy… they were just too close. “Jimmy was the only one I could count on, you know?”
“And now you’re not sure.”
The room blurred into a watery mosaic of color. She opened her eyes wide so the tears wouldn’t break free. She didn’t want to admit it, that her belief in Jimmy had been shaken. She didn’t want to even think it, let alone say it out loud.
“What else happened in that meeting tonight, Melissa? Where is your gun?”
“Seth put me on administrative leave.”
“Administrative leave?”
“I’m suspended. I had to turn in my ID and gun.” She looked down at the tangle of their fingers. “I don’t have any legal authority and I’m unarmed.”
“Why didn’t you tell me right away?”
“I don’t know. I needed to get used to the idea myself first, I guess.”
“And did that work?”
She didn’t even bother shaking her head. “You were right all along. Coming back wasn’t such a good idea.”
“I can’t take Jason back to the ranch. Not until those men are caught.”
“So go somewhere else. Anywhere else. Just until this all blows over.”
“And when will that happen?”
“I don’t know.”
His lips flattened into a line, and he stared into the fire. “And if I did that, just went somewhere, what would you do?”
“Jimmy was there for me when I needed him most. I have to be there for him.”
“If things change, our plans will have to change with them. But for now, I don’t see any reason to change anything. You’ll be there for Jimmy, and I’ll be here for you.”
A spot beneath her throat hollowed out and for a moment, she couldn’t speak. When she recovered her voice, it sounded thin and weak. “You don’t need to save me.”
“Who said anything about saving?”
“You weren’t thinking that? After what happened on the street tonight?”
“I didn’t save you out there. I simply had your back.” He canted his head to the side. “And a handy hunting rifle.”
She wanted to smile at that last bit. She needed to smile, make light of this. But somehow, she just didn’t have it in her. “I can’t.”
“You need someone you can rely on, someone to give back, and I’m here. It doesn’t have to mean any more than that. That’s all there needs to be.”
She shook her head. “I still…I can’t.”
“Why not?’
“Because what if I do rely on you, and then you’re not here?” Like her mother. Like Seth. Maybe even like Jimmy. It was the fear that had always gnawed at the back of her mind, ever since she was a kid. And no matter what answer Nick gave her, she knew he couldn’t make it go away.
CHAPTER TWELVE
WHEN NICK AWOKE THE NEXT morning, mired in the lumpiest couch on the planet, the last thing he expected to find was no Melissa. And no truck.
He leaned against the doorjamb, the cool morning air raising chills over his skin. Obviously she’d been serious about not relying on him last night.
Pajama feet shuffled across the floor behind him. “Where Melissa go?”
Nick closed the cabin’s front door and turned to face his son. “She had errands to run. I guess you’re stuck with me.”
Jason nodded, as if it wasn’t a big deal.
Huh. No complaints? Maybe they were making progress after all. Now for the next hurdle. “Should we see what there is for breakfast?”
“I want to play.”
“Play while I get breakfast.”
“I want to p
lay with you.”
“With me?”
Jason held up a Spider-Man action figure. “Play.”
To hell with breakfast. “That sounds like a lot of fun, Jason. Let’s do it.”
He followed Jason to the fireplace. The little guy plunked down on the floor and set his Spider-Man on the stone hearth. “My guy is climbing this.”
“Where’s my guy?”
Jason pointed to a blue Power Ranger laying on the floor. “He’s your guy, but he’s not in charge.”
“Is your guy in charge?”
“He’s Spider-Man.”
“Okay.” Nick guessed that answered that, though he wasn’t sure how. He picked up the blue ranger and mimicked Jason’s movements, making the toy climb the side of the hearth.
Jason watched him. He scratched his chin, the little crease in the center so much like Nick’s own.
“What is it, Buddy?” Nick asked.
Little eyebrows scrunched low over serious eyes. “There a big problem.”
A big problem, huh? Nick couldn’t wait to hear this. “What’s the problem?”
“I don’t have a horse. Your guy needs to ride a horse.”
Nick smiled. So the blue Power Ranger was a rancher. He should have known. He nodded at Spider-Man. “What about your guy?”
Jason looked down at the plastic man in his hand. When he glanced back up at Nick, he paused for a moment, then bobbed his head up and down. “My guy needs a horse, too.”
______
Melissa could hear Nick’s words of the night before echoing in her ears louder than the roar of construction equipment remodeling the county jail. You need someone you can rely on, and I’m here. It doesn’t have to mean any more than that. That’s all there needs to be.
The problem was, it did mean more than that. She’d been awake half the night, her mind whirring with all the things that it meant, a list that seemed to grow with each day.
She had no business feeling the way she felt about Nick. She’d only known him a few days. Yet there it was.
Stupid.
Melissa passed through security, smiling and sharing a few words with the deputy at the metal detector. Everything was different at the jail. In the middle of renovation, everything in the building seemed to be either torn up or detoured into an area it didn’t belong. Melissa felt lost. But not nearly as lost as when she concentrated on her own thoughts. Took note of her own feelings.
It doesn’t have to mean any more than that. That’s all there needs to be.
Did Nick feel anything more? Want anything more?
Melissa thought so. When she caught him looking at her, she was sure there was something there, something as strong as the feelings that clamored inside of her. But when he wasn’t next to her, she wondered if she made the whole thing up.
Around him she felt so vulnerable, as if he’d opened a wound inside her that would never quite heal.
She threaded through the detoured corridors, her heels clacking on the waxed tile floor. There was only one answer. Nick and Jason had to go back to the ranch. And it was up to her to do whatever she could to make sure they were safe enough to do so.
She reached the area where lawyers visited their clients. The place was oddly cheery, in a bland, government-building sort of way. The upbeat jangle of music from the local forecast of the Weather Channel bounced off concrete and tile.
A deputy ushered her into one of the meeting rooms. The room was little bigger than a phone booth and smelled of body odor, floor wax and a faint hint of the ever-present construction dust hanging like an invisible fog in the air. In front of a Plexiglas window, a stainless-steel counter stretched, a stool bolted to the floor beneath it. The setup was the same on the other side. Telephones were attached to the wall by a short cable on either side of the shatterproof glass. She perched on the hard plastic seat and waited for José Sanchez.
Sanchez was shorter than she remembered, barely five foot five, but he carried himself like he was twice the size. Shoulders back and chin held at a haughty angle, he peered at her as if upset she’d interrupted his day. He lowered himself onto the bench on his side of the window and stared at her a good long while before picking up the phone.
She picked up her phone as well and held it to her ear.
“You with the D.A.’s office?”
She’d expected some type of Hispanic accent, but his words sounded as flatly Midwestern as if he’d grown up on a farm in Kansas. Strange to think that she’d been working on the case against him, and yet she’d never spoken to him until now. She’d never even seen his face, except in his booking photo. “My name is Melissa Anderson. I’m an investigator with the district attorney’s office.”
“My lawyer said you might be trying to trick me into talking with you.”
“I’m not on the job anymore. I’m suspended. I’m here as a private citizen.” Of course if Seth knew she was here, he’d wish he’d given her a pink slip instead of administrative leave.
“Whatever. I don’t got to talk to you. Not without my lawyer.”
“I don’t need you to talk. Just listen.”
“Okay. Why not?” He plunked an elbow on the counter as if settling in for the duration. His gaze drifted down toward her chest.
She resisted the urge to button her blouse another notch. His leer was meant to intimidate, to make her uncomfortable, and she wouldn’t give him what he wanted. Besides, it wasn’t going to be easy to sell a lie to a practiced liar. She was going to have to give the performance of her life. If her nonexistent cleavage and not-very-sexy uniform of blouse and blazer distracted him enough to keep him from spotting the lie, she might as well use it to her advantage.
She leaned forward an inch. “I’d like to go over some theories with you.”
“Knock yourself out.”
“The D.A.’s office thinks you were bribing police officers.”
“Now why would I do that?”
“To be specific, they think you were bribing Detective Bernard.”
Sanchez stretched his mouth open in an exaggerated yawn.
“They think you killed Gayle Rodgers because she was informing the district attorney about the bribes.”
That got his attention. He straightened, intense brown eyes drilling into her. “I didn’t kill no one.”
“That’s not all.” She paused. “Four members of your gang shot and killed Detective Bernard and a victims’ rights advocate two days ago.”
“I told you, I didn’t kill no one. And I didn’t tell no one to kill no one, either.”
Right. Melissa couldn’t count the number of times defendants proclaimed their innocence. It was a line each of them might as well have tattooed to their forehead along with the myriad of gang ink each one sported.
“Two of those same friends of yours—”
“Who says they’re my friends?”
“Sorry, members of your gang.”
He tilted his head. “I ain’t part of no gang.”
“Fine. But these four men are members of the Latin Devils. Or, I should say, two of them are. The other two are dead.”
“Lady, you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
“I was there. Two of the men attempted to murder a witness to the shooting of Detective Bernard. They crashed into a ravine. I know what I’m talking about, since I helped them do it.”
Sanchez shook his head. “Whatever. Not that. I don’t know about that.”
“I’m sure their mothers would like to give them funerals. But we don’t have any names.”
“And you think I know their names?”
“Yeah, I think you just might.”
“And why’s that? Because we Latinos, we all know each other?”
“Because you and the four men I’m talking about are all Latin Devils.”
“You’re crazy, lady.”
Her turn to throw that “whatever” back at him. She leaned toward the Plexiglas, planting elbows on stainless steel. “I’m doing
you a favor, José. Giving you a gift. So listen up.”
He heaved a sigh and dropped his eyes once again.
“Our witness can’t identify the two Latin Devils who are still alive. There’s no reason for them to risk going after him again. We’ve got nothing on them. The police have nothing. They’re off the hook. Understand?”
Sanchez let out a scoff. “I understand perfect. You’re the one who don’t understand. These gang members you say shot the detective, they weren’t no Latin Devils.”
“Right. Just make sure you tell them—”
“Didn’t you hear me? They ain’t Latin Devils. I ain’t saying I’m part of the gang or nothing. But I hear stuff, even in here. The usual gossip. You know? Who is part of what. Who does what. And I can tell you there ain’t no way anyone in the Latin Devils killed no police detective. And they didn’t try to kill some witness, neither.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“I don’t care if you believe me.” He shrugged again, gesturing with his free hand as he talked into the phone. “It don’t have anything to do with me. I still don’t see why you’re telling me this stuff in the first place.”
Was he just playing with her for entertainment? She had to admit it was a possibility. Even a probability. Her best bet was to make her point and pray he got the message through to the rest of the gang. “No one will ever be able to prove who killed Detective Bernard. The witness is no longer a threat.”
Sanchez bobbed his head and rolled his eyes, mocking her. “And you think I can call off the Latin Devils, save this witness some pain?”
“And maybe save your friends a prison sentence, too. Think of that.”
“I told you, they’re not my friends.”
“Yes, yes, I know.” She was tired of Sanchez’s games, tired of being jerked around by a hoodlum. “Will you make sure they know the witness can’t identify them? Will you pass that along?”
“Maybe I could and maybe I couldn’t if these four were Latin Devils. They ain’t. So I can’t really do a thing for you, can I?”
She leaned her forehead on the heel of one hand. He had to be lying. Didn’t he? It was what men like José Sanchez did. “The D.A.’s investigator on the case says they are Latin Devils. Who am I supposed to believe? You or him?”
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