by Sandra Brown
“I think he wants to adopt me.”
“He adopted you a long time ago.”
“Only good thing about his hovering was that he kept me informed on how it all went down when you came back from North Carolina.”
That snapped the rein she’d been keeping on her temper. “Then he’s a glorified gossip.”
“Practically an old woman.”
“If you wanted to know how it was going down, why weren’t you here to see for yourself?”
“Look, I know you’re pissed. You have every right to kick me in the ass and tell me to get lost.”
“If my foot didn’t hurt—”
“I couldn’t come to you until all that crap—yours and mine—was done with. You can understand that, Doc. I know you can.”
Their gazes battled. Hers was the first to fall away. “It took me a while, but I did come to understand it. You would have been an additional complication, something requiring an explanation, when I already had much to explain and deal with.”
“Exactly.”
“But that also gave you a very convenient excuse to disappear again and stay gone.”
“I had shit to work through, too. My reentry wasn’t going to be easy, and I didn’t want you subjected to the heat.”
“I could have helped you.”
“No, you couldn’t. I had to work things out on my own. First, I had to figure out what I was going to do.”
“Return to the FBI?”
“No. Jack asked me, but I turned him down flat.”
“So then…?”
“I’m, uh, building stuff. More than bookshelves and sheds. I’ve affiliated with a group of contractors. We go in after natural disasters. Tornadoes, earthquakes. Like that. We get shelters up fast. Repair homes, schools, hospitals, whatever.”
“Build stuff.”
“Yeah.”
He didn’t embellish. The inflection in his voice didn’t change much either, but it didn’t have to for her to discern that he was excited and gratified. The work was perfectly suited to him. However, she knew better than to make too much of it.
“Sounds good.”
“Feels good.”
He took another long look out the front windshield. She gave him the time to organize his thoughts, and when he was ready to resume, he propped his left arm on the steering wheel and turned in his seat to face her.
“Sam Knight contacted me through Jack. He told me Grange was going through a hard time because of…well, you know why. Last week, I went to see him.”
“He was in awe of you.”
“Well, he now understands why I didn’t like anybody looking to me as a hero. He was pretty eaten up, and at first he refused to talk about what happened up there that day. I know that feeling, and told him I did, and after that he opened up. He said he was finding it hard to live with himself for pulling the trigger.”
He paused and looked deeply into her eyes. “And I heard myself asking him, ‘Could you live with yourself if you hadn’t?’” He let the question resonate for several seconds.
“I didn’t plan on saying that, Doc. The words came from somewhere other than conscious thought. In fact, I think they came from you. But there they were, and saying them aloud made me realize that I couldn’t live with myself if I hadn’t pulled the trigger that day in Westboro either. I couldn’t live with myself if I hadn’t stopped him. And, just like that, after four years I was freed of it. I have you to thank.”
For a time, she was too moved to speak. She had to clear her throat before she could. “And the people who bullied him?”
“I’m leaving them to their own miserable selves. Their meanness might catch up with them one day, or not. But it won’t come from me.”
Her heart swelled with love, but there was still one thing she must know. “That day, that awful last day, before the ambulance arrived and you were holding me, you whispered something into my hair. What did you say?”
“I asked you not to give up on me.”
“But then you disappeared, Hayes.”
“For the last time. I never will again.”
“Do you promise?”
“I promise. If it’s left to me, I’ve spent my last day and night without you. But whatever happens next, it’s your call.”
She kept him in suspense for all of three or four seconds. “I don’t feel like driving. Will you give me a lift home?”
“Happy to.” But then he didn’t move, just sat there, drinking her in with his eyes.
“Are you going to start the truck?”
“Not yet, Doc.” He reached across, cupped the back of her head in his large hand, and pulled her to him. “First I’m gonna kiss you till I can’t breathe.”
He always did what he said.
Novels by Sandra Brown
Deadline
Low Pressure
Lethal
Mirror Image
Where There’s Smoke
Charade
Exclusive
Envy
The Switch
The Crush
Fat Tuesday
Unspeakable
The Witness
The Alibi
Standoff
Best Kept Secrets
Breath of Scandal
French Silk
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Contents
Cover
Title Page
Welcome
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Finish Line
Novels by Sandra Brown
Newsletters
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2014 by Sandra Brown Management, Ltd.
Cover design by Brigid Pearson
Cover copyright © 2014 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.
All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
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First ebook edition: August 2014
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ISBN 978-1-4555-8113-9
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