Author: Christine Bell

He let it slide, knowing that she was looking out for him. “What made you think of sending the tapes to other people? I’m assuming Owen has a copy now?”

He aimed the question at Maddy as well, but she deferred to Sarabeth. “Don’t look at me, I was all for running in guns blazing.”

Sarabeth’s cheeks burned, and she shrugged as he leveled her with a searching gaze. “Well?”

“I—” She scratched her nose and shrugged. “I saw that on an episode of CSI.”

A smile tugged at his mouth. Maybe that show was going to have to be part of their training curriculum now.

“And the shots? I heard two.”

“Maddy is the one who hit him. Mine went wide. Thank God she was here.”

“Well, at least it’s all over now.”

The momentary relief dimmed into sorrow as the word turned over in his head. Over. There was nothing to bind them together, not any more. So as much as this was a victory, it was also a crossroads. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to ruin this moment for her. She was finally free. He’d take her to her grandparents’ house, and once everyone had welcomed her back with open arms, he’d give her some space. If she wanted him, she’d let him know. If she didn’t, at least she’d be on safe turf.

Yep, that would be the plan from here on out—and for now, he’d have to ignore the gnawing feeling in his chest every time he thought about leaving her.

By the time the police were done with their questions and they were cleared to leave, it was well past midnight. Maddy was going to have to lawyer up for having fired the first shot, but her connections with the PD seemed to suggest that any charges would be dropped given the circumstances. The cops were more concerned about the mutilated contents of the bag, and no one was talking. Since it wasn’t drugs and odds were their analysts wouldn’t get anything off the discs themselves, everyone had clammed up tight and there wasn’t much they could do. They took Vito and his boys downtown on unregistered weapons charges and not much else. They’d be out soon, but Gavin seemed to think that the fact that the tapes were still in play would keep Vito from misbehaving.

Gavin led Sarabeth to the car slowly. Her whole body ached with exhaustion and her mind was reeling. Things could have gone so terribly wrong in there, it was a wonder they’d all gotten out in one piece. And Gavin… God, seeing him on his knees like that with a gun to his head had nearly made her lose her mind.

She swallowed hard to ease the ache in her throat as he opened the car door without speaking. She didn’t mind the quiet. All the words on her lips were better left unsaid.

Seeing someone try to hurt you like that made me crazy inside.

Thinking you might die was the scariest moment of my life.

Do I really have to go?

By the time they got to Gavin’s house, she’d talked herself in so many circles, she was light-headed and barely managed to drag herself out of the car. The strain of the day had taken its toll and a mother of a headache was building around her eyes.

“You okay, Doc?” Gavin took her arm gently and led her into the house.

She nodded, barely managing to stop herself from leaning closer and tucking her head against his shoulder. It was only the memory of his words that stopped her.

Well, at least it’s all over now.

All of it. The running. The hiding. The fear. And them. They, if there ever really was a “they,” were a product of their circumstances. If there was no gangster after her, there was no need for her to be in Gavin’s house at all. He’d get his life back and so would she. What little there was left of it, in any case. Even the things she’d thought were important to her weren’t. The job was just a job, and all that angst over trying to rebuild her practice had been wasted. She didn’t even know if she wanted to go back to that. Not after having a taste of what it was like in Gavin’s world.

“Are you hungry? Maybe you should try to eat something.”

His low voice interrupted her muzzy thoughts and she shook her head. “I need to sleep.”

He nodded and left her at the bottom of the staircase. “Can you make it up alone? I’m going to get you some water and an aspirin.”

“Yes, I’m okay.” She made her way gingerly up the steps, each one looming larger than the last. What room was she even supposed to sleep in? It had been the status quo since they’d slept together for her to be in Gavin’s room, but now? Nothing was that simple anymore. Going to his bed when they both knew the forces holding them together were gone would be a declaration. A conscious stand, by which she was telling him flat-out that she wasn’t done with him yet.

At least it’s all over now.

She swiped at the tears pooling in her eyes and bypassed his door, heading for her own room. If he wanted to keep her, he was going to have to say it. She’d about used up the last of her bravery and disregard for self-preservation when she barreled into that warehouse and shot at a gangster.

By the time he came in, she was dressed in her nightshirt and tucked under the covers.

“Hey, how you feeling?” He crossed the room to her bedside and set down a tray with a glass of water and what looked like a cheese sandwich sitting on it. “Sorry, no meat. I meant to hit the grocery store and then…”

“And then today got a kind of busy,” she said with a forced laugh, her eyes tearing again at his thoughtfulness. “Thanks.” She took the aspirin he held out to her and washed it down with the ice water before setting it back on the tray.

They stared at each other stupidly for a long moment and she willed him to say something. Anything that might let her know that he didn’t want to go. That he needed to lie next to her and hold her as much as she needed it.

“Listen, Doc—”

The regret in his voice hurt more than any words he could say, and she stopped him with a hand on his forearm.

“I want to let you know how much I appreciate what you’ve done for me,” she said softly, hoping she could get through her little speech before she burst into tears. “I didn’t want to go with you, and you wouldn’t take no for an answer. Believe me, I know that’s the only reason I’m alive today. I can’t thank you enough.”

He gave a grim nod. “Right. That was the job and I’m glad it worked out. And to be fair, you repaid the favor back at the warehouse, so I’d say we’re square.”

Square. So nobody owed anybody anything and they could both just walk away.

“I guess that’s it, then. I’ll let you get some sleep.” He held her gaze for a beat before turning to go. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

He made his way to the foyer and her heart dropped to her stomach. He slipped out and closed the door behind him, the resulting snick reverberating through her aching head like a cannon shot. This really was the end.

Now how was she going to go back to life before Gavin when it really hadn’t been much of a life at all?

Chapter Fourteen

During the long ride to her grandparents’ house the next day, he’d glanced at Sarabeth roughly every three seconds. Each time he looked, she was fidgeting. First she was brushing her fingers through her hair, then adjusting and readjusting her seat belt, examining her pores in the passenger-side mirror. And the whole time, she’d barely said more than two words.

They’d stopped for a quick bite, but even that was a quiet affair and they’d gotten right back on the road. Occasionally she’d mumble directions, but the closer they got, every topic of conversation he’d attempted had died quickly after its inception, met with either a muffled one-word response or none at all. He could understand it. After their conversation in the hotel, she’d never mentioned calling them again, and she’d avoided any verbal mention of them afterward. Jumping back into the life she’d left behind had to be difficult.

“You all right, there, Doc? If you’re not careful, someone’s going to accuse you of having restless leg syndrome or something.” Her knee was bobbing so quickly that he was surprised it didn’t make the car wobble up and down along with it. She half smiled.

“What? Oh, yeah. Fine. This, um, this is the street.” She pointed to a sign labeled Lucking Road. Giant bushes of tea roses surrounded the spiraled wrought iron posts.

“I never would have guessed,” he said with a snort. She nodded, either not hearing or not processing what he’d said.

“It’s the only house on the street. End of the drive,” she muttered.

He followed the winding path until they were in front of a huge five-story home, white marble pillars supporting the plantation-style architecture. It was the sort of building a person would associate with old money—from the neat stone walkway to the bright-red flowers in every window box. He’d never seen a place like it before. It was more like a museum than a place someone might call home. The very thought of kicking back and having a cold beer in a place like this would be like going to bed on the set of American Horror Story. Ludicrous.

Like your place is any better.

So maybe his place was more Highland keep than Tara. It still wasn’t a space that invited warmth and laughter and comfort.

But it would be if Sarabeth was in it, he realized with a start. He’d let her put throw pillows around and picture frames and magnets on the fridge if she wanted to. His chest went tight, and he opted to make light.

“And you thought my house was a castle.” He swung his legs out of the car and walked around to open her door, but she was already tumbling out, her knees almost knocking together as she stood before the mansion.

“I guess it is sort of silly.” She didn’t look at him but started up the stone stairs.

He followed suit, shaking out his leather jacket and making sure his collar was folded. He was stepping onto the wide wraparound porch when she pressed her finger to the doorbell and the whole house hummed with gentle chimes.

“Not really top-end security round these parts, huh?” There wasn’t even a gate around the property, just wide, sprawling fields.

“They have top-of-the-line alarms inside and out, plus two rottweilers. They’re for dog shows, mostly, but when they’re not…” She trailed off.

A Spanish woman literally dressed in a French maid’s uniform answered the door, a smile stretched across her face. “Hello, Miss Sarabeth. It’s good to see you. May I take your coats?” She held out an arm, gesturing toward his leather jacket.

Sarabeth returned her smile warmly and handed over her jacket.

“No, uh, I’m fine. Thanks.” He ran his hands down the front of his chest and shook his head, surveying the wide hall behind her. It was like something out of a movie. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, the bright light behind it making the stones sparkle. The floor and stairs were entirely cast in pristine white marble, a gold banister leading to the huge front door where he and Sarabeth stood. Everybody in the enormous space was sure to look like ants in their immaculate surroundings. And to the kind of people who lived in a place like this, Gavin was bound to look like a cockroach.

“Martina!” A shrill female voice rang through the foyer, the quick clicking of approaching heels accompanying the sound. “Rochester needs-o his bath-o—”

A woman emerged from the far end of the room, her eyes widening when she caught sight of Sarabeth. Her mouth hung open, and it was the only real sign of surprise she had left. The rest of her features were pulled too tightly to express emotion any longer. She nearly dropped the martini glass perched between her thumb and forefinger. Almost.

She advanced on them, though her perfectly crafted fake-blond updo never budged as she went. “What happened to your hair?” She fingered Sarabeth’s strands with her free hand, her lips curling into a mask of righteous horror.

“Oh, I—”