Marilyn Pappano: Criminal Deception

A lot of other things had been settled since Sunday. Daniel Wallace had been wounded and arrested and faced a laundry list of charges. Being an intelligent man, he would probably put his best interests first and testify against his employers. His associate at the clearing was dead, and the four men who had set up the ambush for Liz were all in custody.

Josh wasn’t in custody. His phone had eventually been located at a Boulder mall, in the possession of a twelve-year-old boy who’d found it in a McDonald’s. No one had a clue where to look for him now.

Natalia wasn’t in custody either. She’d been taken back to the police station with the other survivors, had answered a few questions, asked to go to the bathroom and quietly disappeared. The feds had been furious, but Decker and Maricci-who’d never lost a prisoner in their lives-weren’t fazed by it.

Liz would have let her go, too.

She stopped at an intersection and realized that she’d reached the square while her thoughts had wandered. A Cuppa Joe was across the street, the tables mostly empty. She drew a breath for courage, crossed the street and went inside.

Joe came out of the back room, grinning when he saw her. His gaze dropped to her feet and made a long, slow trip back up, and arousal entered his expression. “Hey,” he greeted her. “It’s a slow morning, you look incredibly hot, and I’ve got a couch in the back. What do you say?”

She gave him a chastising look. “Is it slow enough that we can talk?”

His smile faded, and disquiet entered his expression. She empathized. If he’d told her, We need to talk , her palms would be clammy and the edges of her heart would already be breaking in anticipation of the bad news to come.

“Sure,” he said. “Come on back.”

When she went into the office, she noticed a box on his desk, the lid askew and showing a bit of porcelain. More coffee mugs. Probably recycled or handmade in some tiny start-up third-world pottery. He did like saving his corner of the earth.

He stopped in the doorway, facing her. “What’s up?”

Jeez, it was easier to think about asking him what he wanted than to actually do it. What if he wanted a long-distance affair? What if he didn’t want her in his life on a daily basis? After all, she must come with some pretty bad memories attached.

“I, uh, I’m supposed to be back in Dallas next week, and, uh, I was wondering…”

His face went blank of all expression as his body went stiff.

She took a breath and rushed on. “I was wondering what you thought about that. Whether you mind. Whether you want or don’t want me to stay here, at least all the time, because I could understand if you didn’t, but-”

She broke off when he abruptly moved, striding to the desk and lifting the lid from the box. He thrust it at her, and she stared at the tall, gracefully shaped cup inside. A whimsical view of Copper Lake beneath a summer blue sky circled the cup-A Cuppa Joe, the square, River’s Edge, Wyndham Hall, SnoCap. And in the place of prominence, a house: white, dark shutters, picket fence, flowers blooming everywhere, and a mailbox on a crooked post. Tiny print on the mailbox read Liz and Joe . And even tinier, under that, Forever.

She clasped the mug in both hands, tears filling her eyes. “Oh, Joe…”

He set the box aside, then wrapped his arms around her. “I love you, Liz. I want to marry you. I want to have kids with you. I won’t ask you to quit your job or move here. I can go-”

She smiled up at him. “Oh, please do. Really. Please ask.” Giving him the precious cup to hold, she reached inside her purse and drew out a single sheet of paper.

It was a letter she’d never imagined herself writing. Until lately, it had been unthinkable, even, but when she’d started to write, the words had come easily. Joe was definitely one of the reasons, but there were others. Finding a life she wanted more. Getting kidnapped. Facing death. Facing his death. Life was too short to spend one more day doing something that didn’t own her heart.

“What’s that?” he asked as she unfolded it.

“My resignation from the marshals service. Please ask me to stay, Joe.”

He scanned the letter she held and the tension faded from his gaze. Staring down at her, he obeyed beautifully. “Will you marry me, Liz, and stay in Copper Lake?”

He was a good man, handsome as hell, sexy, dependable, and he’d proven himself willing to die for her. And she loved him. How could she possibly leave him?

“I will,” she whispered. “Forever.”