sir. No, sir. Yessir, I do understand…”
Brooke felt something warm and solid come to fill the empty space next to her and realized it was Tony. Realized, too, that she still had one hand clamped hard across her mouth. She took it away and looked at him and gave a shivery laugh. “Who-”
“Sshh…” he said, with a slight warning shake of his head, not looking at her but somehow managing to make her feel cloaked in warmth and safety just by being there.
Swallowing her questions and holding inside herself a new sense of wonder, she watched Lonnie take the phone away from his ear. When he turned, his teeth were bared, his face a mask of rage. He looked as though he would have liked to hurl the offending cell phone at the three of them, but once again, it was Al Hernandez who interceded, taking the object from him and handing it back to Tony.
“This ain’t over,” Lonnie growled, stabbing a finger at Tony, then Brooke. “You hear me? We ain’t done, not by a long shot.” He stomped over to his sheriff’s department SUV, climbed in and slammed the door.
Al threw Brooke a wary glance and went after his partner, getting in on the passenger side. As the SUV bounced back down the lane and through the barn’s open breezeway, the other two deputies got into the pickup truck with the cage in the back and followed.
As the sound of the two vehicles faded and a mild morning breeze swirled their dust into eddies, Brooke turned silently and blindly against Tony’s broad chest.
He didn’t know which surprised him the most: the fact that she’d done it, or that it felt so natural when she did. His arms went around her, and her head came to rest on his shoulder, and her body seemed to fit against his as if they were two broken halves put back together again.
She was trembling in waves, the way someone did when they were crying and trying not to, trying at least not to let anyone else know. He wanted to stroke and comfort her, but the cell phone in his hand was getting in the way. Then somehow it wasn’t, as Daniel happily relieved him of it without being asked. And that was another source of wonder to Tony-the fact that not even Daniel seemed to find it odd that a strange man had his arms around his mother.
“Hey,” Daniel said, “this isn’t a iPhone. It doesn’t even have a camera.”
Tony let go a gusty breath of laughter. “Okay…busted.”
Daniel let out a squawk. “You mean you-”
“Yeah. Sorry. I lied.”
Brooke lifted her head to gaze at him with drenched and incredulous eyes. “Dear God-that was a
“Yeah…” At least, he thought he said something like that. His vision was filled with her eyes, swimming with tears, like sunlight on water, thick lashes clumped together and her mouth all blurred and soft. His senses were overwhelmed with the sweet warmth of her breath and the clean scent of her skin, and the vibrant and graceful curves of her body, nestled against his. It was all he could do not lift his hands to cradle her face and bring it softly…sweetly…gently to his.
Then she was laughing, the back of her hand pressed to her mouth, and he came to himself and reared back with mock outrage. “I’m a professional photojournalist. You think I’d sink so low as to have a camera in my
Her laughter became something that sounded more like a whimper. “Remind me never to play poker with you,” she said as she turned to lace her fingers through the fabric of the chain-link fence and rest her forehead on her arm.
“I’m a lousy poker player, actually,” Tony said softly, and it took all the will he had not to move close behind her and lay his hands over hers and bury his face in her hair. “A lousy liar, too-normally. I don’t know what got into me.”
“Well, you did one helluva a job when it counted,” she said on a rueful little coda of laughter.
And Daniel crowed, “See? I told you she cusses sometimes.”
“Daniel,” his mother said in a careful tone, the one mothers everywhere used as their first warning, “don’t you think you should go and let Hilda out?”
Tony snapped his fingers. “That’s who’s missing.”
“Yeah,” Daniel said, and his face grew dark with anger, “Lonnie made us lock her in the house. He said he’d
“She’s…very protective of us,” Brooke said in a low voice as Daniel went running off to the house. “And she really doesn’t like Lonnie.”
“Interesting,” Tony murmured, and he moved up beside her to search the apparently empty compound with narrowed eyes. “Where is she?”
“Hiding. Over there in those rocks. I’ve never seen her do that before. She senses…” She turned her head to look at him over one braced arm. “Thank you for what you did this morning. You saved Lady’s life. I’m sure of it. But-” the muscles in her face flinched, and she finished in a whisper, “-this won’t be the end of it. I’ve never seen Lonnie so mad. He’s going to be back.”
“He sure does have a hate on for that cougar.” He managed to keep his tone light while oily coils of anger were writhing in his belly.
“Oh,” Brooke said as she turned, “I’m sure he blames her for Duncan’s death.”
They walked slowly back toward the house, side by side. “Seems to me,” Tony said, “it would make more sense for him to blame you. Since you’ve been charged with killing him.”
“Yeah…” Her forehead furrowed with the little watermark frown as she studied the ground in front of her. “Doesn’t make much sense, does it?” She gave her head a little shake and looked up at him. “You know what else doesn’t make sense? How you managed to get hold of a judge and still get over here so fast. It couldn’t have been fifteen, maybe twenty minutes after Daniel called you.”
“Oh,” Tony said. And then he added, “Well,” to buy himself time, while nasty little bubbles of guilt burned in his chest like the aftereffects of a bad meal. “I didn’t actually get hold of the judge. That would have been your lawyer-what’s his name? Mr. Henderson?-he called him.”
“Okay…” Brooke said slowly. “But then, you had to call him, didn’t you? And you’d have to look up his number, and it couldn’t have been easy to reach him, since it was before office hours in the morning…right?”
Memories of childhood flooded him, of being grilled by his mother or sisters after being caught in some misbehavior, and then worse, of being caught in the lies he told to try and save himself. The fact that the desire he’d felt for this woman still sang through his body made the memories weirdly discomfiting. He ran a hand over his scalp and tried to smile. “Actually…I had help. I’ve been staying with a friend…in town and, uh…”
“Oh,” she said. “I’m sorry-I didn’t realize-”
Warmth flooded his chest as he saw her cheeks turn pink with embarrassment and understood the conclusion she’d jumped to. “A guy,” he said gently. “His name is Holt Kincaid.” And then it was his turn to feel the heat of embarrassment as her eyes widened with new understanding. “No-wait,” he added, laughing. “It’s not
“Well,” she said, with a wry little smile as she faced forward again, “it would have explained a few things.”
A gust of surprised laughter escaped him. “Like what?”
There was a pause, but she didn’t look at him. Then she hitched in a breath and said, “Like why someone like you isn’t married.”
He wanted her to look at him again. He wanted her eyes and mouth facing him across a chasm of inches, not feet. He wanted to be having this peculiar conversation with her in a place with soft light and soft places to sit and soft sweet music playing. But she walked beside him and lifted her face to the morning sun, and he had to content himself with watching it caress her skin and cast golden lights into her hair and with imagining his fingers and lips there instead.
He managed to make a small, nonspecific sound, and before he could think of actual words to follow it with, she said, “So…this Holt is the one who called my lawyer?”
“Uh…yeah,” he said, “that’s right.”
“So…is Holt a reporter, too?” She said it warily, defensively, like someone bracing for a disappointment.
