longer will it be before I can take Pleasure back?'
'You aren't taking him anywhere. You're going to a hospital to be checked out.'
'We can't just leave him here.''
'I've arranged for him to be driven back.'
She could hear the effort he was making to be calm; it was evident in his careful tone.
'Are things about wrapped up here?'
'Close enough that I can leave it with Dean and take you to a hospital.'
He wouldn't let it go until a doctor had told him she was all right, Maris realized, and with a sigh she opened her eyes and sat up. She understood. If their situations were reversed, she would be doing the same thing.
'All right,' she said, slipping on her coat. She turned off the ignition and picked up the Kevlar vest. 'I'm ready.'
Her willingness scared him. She saw his eyes darken, saw his jaw clench. 'I'll be okay,' she said softly, touching his hand. 'I'm going because I know you're worried, and I don't want you to be.'
His expression changed, something achingly tender moving in his eyes. Gently he scooped her into his arms and lifted her from the truck.
Dean had brought the Oldsmobile out of its hiding place. Mac carried her to it and deposited her on the front seat as carefully as if she were made of the most fragile crystal. He got in on the driver's side and started the car; the milling crowd in front of them parted, allowing them through. She saw Pleasure, standing quietly now. The bandage was in place, and the wild look was gone from his eyes. He was watching the activity with his characteristic friendly curiosity.
As they drove by, Dean lifted his hand to wave. 'What about Dean?' Maris asked.
'He'll get transport. It isn't a problem.'
She paused. 'What about you? When do you leave? Your job here is finished, isn't it?' She didn't intend to let him get away, but she wasn't sure exactly how much he understood of their situation. 'It's finished.' The words were clipped. The look he gave her was one of restrained violence. 'I'll have to do the paperwork, tie up some loose ends. I may have to leave tonight, tomorrow at the latest, but I'll be back, damn it!'
'You don't sound happy about it,' she observed.
'Happy? You expect me to be happy?' His jaw clenched. 'You didn't obey orders. You stepped right out into the open, instead of staying hidden the way you were supposed to. That idiot woman could have killed you!'
'I was wearing the vest.' She pointed that out rather mildly, she thought.
'The damn vest only improves the odds, it isn't a guarantee! The issue here is that you didn't follow the plan. You risked your life for that damn horse! I didn't want him hurt, either, but'
'It wasn't for Pleasure,' she said, interrupting him. 'It was for you.' She looked out the window at the snow- dusted pastures they were passing.
It was quiet in the car for a moment.
'Me?' He was using that careful tone again.
'You. I knew he'd go straight to you, that he'd catch my scent on your clothes. At the very least he would distract you, bump you with his head. It was even possible he'd give away your position.'
Mac was silent, absorbing the shock of the realization that she was willing to risk her own life to protect his. He did the same thing on a fairly regular basis, but it was his job to take risks and protect others. But he'd never before felt the terror he'd known when he saw Maris draw Joan's attention, and he hoped he never felt it again.
'I love you,' she said quietly.
Damn. Sighing inwardly, Mac kissed his bachelorhood goodbye. Her courage stunned him, humbled him. No other woman he'd known would have put herself on the line the way Maris had done, both physically and emotionally. She didn't play games, didn't jockey for control. She simply knew, and accepted; he'd seen it in the soft depths of her black eyes, an instinctive inner knowledge that few people ever achieved. If he didn't snatch her up, it would be the biggest mistake of his life.
Mac didn't believe in making mistakes.
'How long does it take to get married in Kentucky?' he asked abruptly. 'If we can't get it done tomorrow, we'll go to Las Vegas, assuming the doctor says you're all right.'
He hadn't said he loved her, but she knew he did. She sat back, pleased with the situation. 'I'm all right,' she said, completely confident.
Chapter Ten
'Getting married in Las Vegas seems to be a tradition in my family,' she mused the next day as her new husband ushered her into their suite. 'Two of my brothers have done it.'
'Two? How many brothers do you have?'
'Five. All of them older.' She smiled sweetly at him over her shoulder as she walked to the window to look out at the blazing red sunset. It was odd how completely connected to him she felt, when they hadn't had tune to talk much, to share the details of their lives. Events had swept them along like gulls before a hurricane.
The emergency room doctor had pronounced her concussion mild and told her to take it easy for a day or so. He had agreed with her that, if she had been going to lapse into a coma, she would already have done so. Over the course of the day her memory had completely returned, filling in the blank spots, so she knew she was okay.
Reassured, Mac had driven her back to Solomon Green and turned his attention to the job, ruthlessly clearing up details and paperwork so he could concentrate on the business of getting married. While she slept, he and Dean had worked. He had arranged for time off, checked into the details of marriage in Kentucky, decided it couldn't be done fast enough to suit him and booked them on a flight to Las Vegas.
Ronald Stonicher had been arrested for conspiracy to commit fraud; he'd had no idea his wife and Randy Yu planned to kill Maris, too, and was shattered by what had happened. Joan had undergone surgery on her arm, and according to the surgeon the nerve and tissue damage was extensive; he expected her to regain some use of the arm, but she would never again be able to write with her right hand, or eat, do or anything else requiring precise movements. Randy was spilling his guts to the feds, implicating a lot of people in the horse world in the scheme to kill off horses for the insurance money. He hadn't been charged with killing the sixteen-year-old boy. Evidently he had some information on it, though, and was holding that in reserve to bargain for an even bigger break on the charges.
Maris had called her mother, briefly filled her in on what had happened and told her she was getting married. 'Have fun, baby,' Mary had told her daughter. 'You know your father will want to walk you down the aisle, so we'll plan another wedding for Christmas. That gives me three weeks. There shouldn't be any problem.'
Most people would have screamed in panic at the thought of organizing a wedding in three weeks. Mary saw no problem, and from experience Maris knew that while other people might have problems accomplishing what her mother wanted, in the end she would have her way,
