The Sheriff of Heartbreak County

got me out of there, Roan. She saved my life. And the worst of it is, I never even got to say thank you. I never even got to say goodbye.” She rounded on him one last time, fists clenched, face blotchy, nose red, eyes streaming and at the same time shooting fire.

He thought it the most beautiful and amazing thing he’d ever seen, like witnessing a rare natural phenomenon- the northern lights, or a moonlight rainbow.

She went on in a choked voice. “Do you understand what that was like? They took me away that very night. I had to leave everything-didn’t even have a toothbrush, a change of clothes. Nothing whatsoever that was mine-or that had been Yancy’s. It was like…I’d died. My life-who I’d been, the people I’d loved- was over. I couldn’t contact anyone-I didn’t dare. They’d told me about cases where people had broken security, and then their bodies were found a few days later-God, Roan, they even showed me pictures.” She had her arms wrapped around herself, her eyes focusing on horrors only she could see. But Roan had seen enough crime-scene photos to know the images wouldn’t be pretty.

He sat very still, cradling his empty coffee mug with both hands to keep himself from doing something stupid- stupid and dangerous-like getting up and going to her and pulling her back into his arms. Some inner sense told him she wouldn’t want that, not right then, anyway. And considering what had happened the last time he’d done that, maybe he didn’t either. Shouldn’t, for sure.

He cleared his throat. “Well, now your security’s broken all to hell. If DelRey still wants to kill you, he knows right where to find you, thanks to me and that news broadcast.”

“No.” She turned to face him, the sunlight from behind haloing her hair so that for the first time he saw hints of fire in it that even the dye couldn’t hide. “No-it wasn’t your fault or the news media’s or anybody’s.” She came toward him slowly, her body quiet…something different about the way she looked, the way she held herself.

Then she began to speak again, and once again it came to him what the difference was. The fear was gone.

“I’ve been thinking about it…after I heard the news this morning…before you got here. Just now. And what I think is, this is Fate.” Roan made a sound, an involuntary gesture, and she held up a hand to forestall the protest. “No-these last ten years-they’ve been such hell. You have no idea. Running…hiding, afraid to trust anyone, afraid to get close to anyone, all with one purpose: Running away from my…well, Destiny, I guess you could call it. Only now I think all that time I thought I was avoiding Fate, I’ve actually been on a collision course with it. It’s like…every step I’ve taken in the last ten years has been leading me to this. It’s brought me here.” She caught a hitching breath. “For better or worse, this is where it ends. I’m done with running. One way or another, it’s going to end here.”

Watching her, listening to her, he’d managed to keep his face blank, his body still and his mouth shut, while a whole kaleidoscope of emotions and sensations rolled through him-rage…both icy and hot; rejection and annoyance, tenderness and sorrow. And finally, a fierce and powerful resolve that should have surprised him, but didn’t.

Nobody’s going to take this woman from me. Nobody.

Once upon a time, someone had taken the life of the woman he loved and gotten away with it. It wouldn’t happen again. Not while he had breath in his body.

“Don’t know about Fate,” he drawled as he pushed back his chair and stood up, emotions barricaded, now, inside a fortress of calm resolve, “but I’m gonna be arranging some protection for you, whether you like it or not. And that’s not open for discussion,” he added, when he saw she was about to speak.

Her smile was faint and wry. “I was going to ask if that would include giving me my gun back.”

He gave a snort of laughter. “Can’t do that-sorry.” He strolled toward her, but kept his arms folded on his chest to stop himself from reaching for her, touching her. He halted an arm’s length from her, frowning, knowing on the outside he looked the very picture of the strong arm of the law-steadfast, courageous, protector of the innocent-while his insides churned with fear and the knowledge that his starched sheriff’s uniform and shiny silver badge and white hero’s hat hadn’t done a thing to save Erin’s life. In spite of all that, someone had come into his home, killed his wife, maimed his child and he’d been powerless even to catch the one responsible. Protector of the innocent… The thought was a bitter pain in his heart.

“What I can do, though, is put someone watching this house, and your shop whenever you’re there-goes without saying either I or one of my deputies will be taking you to work and anywhere else you need to go-and bringing you home. And you don’t go inside either place until it’s been thoroughly checked out-that clear? When you’re here alone, I want you to keep all the doors and windows locked, shades down, curtains drawn. And stay the hell away from the windows. Don’t-”

“Roan.” She was smiling at him still, a patient little smile that made him want to shake her. “This is a small town. Don’t you think someone’s going to notice if a stranger-say, um…a hitman-”

“Don’t. Dammit.”

She closed her eyes and contritely whispered, “Sorry. I’m trying not to be scared.”

“Hell, you should be scared.” His throat felt raw. “Look, it’s fine to try and be brave, but don’t make light of this. From what Scott Cavanaugh told me, those were some seriously bad people you pissed off. Senor may not be around anymore, but his son sure as hell is. He’s the one you hit where it hurts most.”

The fine skin around her eyes flinched, and it struck him that without her glasses her face seemed open and defenseless as a child’s. His willpower caved like a house of cards. He put his hands on her arms, felt the tremors she was trying to hide, and his insides melted like chocolate in the sun.

“Mary, Diego DelRey was released from prison two years ago. He’s off the radar. He could be anywhere. He probably wouldn’t come after you himself, but let’s say he sends a-” his lips twitched wryly “-hitman. I wish I could tell you you’re right about it being hard for a stranger to sneak into town without being noticed. Normally that’d be true. Thing is, for the next couple weeks, things aren’t going to be exactly ‘normal’ around here. We’ve got Boomtown Days coming up. That’s Hartsville’s spring blow-out-maybe you noticed the stores downtown getting all spruced up for the big event? Happens every year around this time, same time as the college rodeo over in Silver Springs. We’re gonna have all sorts of out-of-towners coming in.” And there was no way in hell his department was going to be able to keep track and run checks on all of them.

He closed his eyes…let out a breath. And Lord, it was hard not to gather her in, wrap her up in his arms the way he wanted to…wrap her up in a nice little package and put her somewhere to keep her safe until all this was over…

Over? Just when and how was this mess she was in going to be over? When Diego DelRey was dead? And there was still a first-degree murder charge hanging over her head-the one he’d put there.

“Look,” he said with gravel in his voice, “just…be careful, okay? Do those things I told you. Pull those shades. Lock your doors. Don’t take chances.” Hard as it was, he made himself let go of her, looked around for his hat, remembered where he’d left it and ran a distracted hand through his hair. “I’m gonna figure out something…if I have to, I’ll put you back in jail.”

“I won’t go,” she said unsteadily, lifting her chin and hugging herself, her own hands rubbing the places where his had been. “You have no right-not until a jury finds me guilty.”

“Yeah, and that’s not gonna happen either,” he growled. “Not if I can help it.”

His joints felt loose and his muscles jerky as he strode through the house, grabbed up his hat and let himself out the front door. On the porch he stood for a moment, hauling in great big lungfuls of the warm spring air…looking up and down the street of the town he’d lived in all his life, looking up at the trees leafing out and dropping flower fluff and pollen everywhere, looking past them at the sky…blue Montana sky. Thinking it all ought to look different to him, somehow.

Because he was definitely a different man coming out of that house than when he’d gone in.

Mary had no way of knowing how long she stood there propping up the kitchen counter. She knew there were things she should be doing-lock the doors, pull the shades, take a shower, make the bed-but she felt too battered, too emotionally drained to think or move. Cat, having completed his after-breakfast toilette, came to twine around her legs by way of saying thank you, and she couldn’t even summon the energy to bend down and pet him. So, when the telephone on the kitchen wall rang, for a moment or two she simply stared at it, unable to think why on earth it should be making such a sound.

Then, when her brain did start to function, her body turned ice-cold. The phone here at home never rang. Who could possibly be calling her now? She thought about running after Roan-maybe he was still sitting out in front in his SUV, calling in to his office, as he often did. Then she scolded herself for cowardice. So much for putting up a brave