Jill Shalvis - Aussie Rules

“How did she hurt your brother?” Mel asked, but Bo lowered the arm closest to Mel, setting it across her middle, trying to push her behind him.

“We’re not Rosario’s people,” he assured the woman.

“Bo-”

“You,” the woman said to Mel with a fierce scowl and a jab of the pistol. “Be quiet. Keep talking,” she said to Bo.

“She stole from my father. Then vanished. Now some threats are being made, and we want to find her.”

“She’s not here, I ran her out.”

“How long ago?”

“A few days.”

“Do you know where she went?” Mel asked from behind Bo, frustrated when he wouldn’t let her out from there.

“If I knew,” the woman said chillingly, “she would no longer be breathing.”

Mel swallowed hard.

“Can you tell us what happened?” Bo asked.

“She came here crying poor American woman, lost in Mexico. She told us she’d been taken by a man who’d fooled her into giving him her property, everything. She was so devastated, so sad. And willing to work hard. So we let her stay, we even gave her work at our airstrip running the radio.”

Mel gaped, then stared at Bo, who looked at her, eyes and mouth grim.

“My brother fell for her,” the woman continued. “She claimed to fall for him, too. Lies, all lies. But we did not know that then. She got him to marry her, then broke his heart.”

“How?” Mel whispered.

“By stealing his money, and the deeds to his properties.”

“How long ago was this?”

“Last year. After she left, she sold the properties, and now we’re little more than laborers in our own place.”

Mel had been sweating but now she went cold. “A year ago?”

“Sí. We hadn’t seen her in all that time but she came back just last week, where she tried to buy my silence. With my brother’s own money!”

From the kitchen came the sound of breaking glass, as if someone had just tossed down a dish in anger.

The woman’s eyes hardened. “I should have killed her. Instead, I hit her with my broom, batted her right out of here. I won’t be so kind next time.”

“Are you sure she stole-”

The woman aimed the gun between Mel’s eyes, then squeezed the trigger, at the last minute lifting her hand so that the bullet bounced off the ceiling and toward the floor, lodging into one of the tables.

Mel began to sweat.

“I am sure,” she said.

Bo shoved Mel behind him again, keeping his eyes right on the woman. “I’m sorry,” he said evenly. “Terribly sorry that you got hurt, too. But we want to find her. We want to stop her from doing this again to anyone else.”

The woman nodded. Mel simply reeled. Sally had been here. She’d done these terrible things, eerily close to what Bo said she’d done to Eddie. It was all true, and suddenly so overwhelming she could hardly stand it. She didn’t realize she’d staggered a step backward until Bo’s hand came up to grip her arm, giving her his strength.

Sally had stolen from this woman, from her brother.

From Eddie.

Deep down Mel had already begun to know this, to understand, but it didn’t make it any easier to take.

“She is evil,” the woman hissed.

“I’m very sorry for your loss,” Bo said quietly. “But we want to help.”

Mel stared into Bo’s eyes, and knew he meant it. There would be no mercy for Sally if they caught her. And if she was guilty, she deserved none.

God, Sally, what have you done?

Bo pulled out a business card from his pocket, handed it to the woman. “If you see her again, call me. Collect.”

The woman looked down at the card. “I want my brother’s money back.”

“If I find her, and there’s still money, you’ll get it back,” he promised.

The woman studied him for a long moment, then, much to Mel’s relief, lowered the gun and nodded. “Go, then.”

They didn’t have to be told twice. Outside, the harsh sun had Mel blinking but Bo grabbed her hand and pulled her quickly to the car. He shoved her into the passenger side and she decided not to argue that he got to drive because truthfully, she didn’t think she could keep them on the road while shaking like a little poodle.

“Delayed shock,” he murmured, and pulled her seatbelt across her shoulder for her. “You’ll be okay.”

“I know.” The sun streamed in the windows, baking them. Mel swiped the sweat on her forehead with her arm, not breathing until they were out of sight of the bar.

“Mel.”

Feeling a bit numb, she stared out the window, realizing several minutes had gone by, and that Bo had pulled off the road a bit, and they sat on some deserted stretch of highway.

A million miles from absolutely nowhere.

“She’s probably using a different alias now,” she said in a voice that seemed to come from far away. “If we can get that name, maybe we can catch up with her.”

“Mel-”

“I’m sure the police would be interested-” Shit. Her voice broke just a little, and she forced herself to draw a deep breath, which caught on the emotion balled in her throat.

“Mel, goddamnit, look at me.”

When she didn’t, he reached across the gearshift and console to grab her shoulders and physically turn her toward him. “Do you think I can’t see what this is doing to you?” he asked grimly.

“And do you think I don’t know that it doesn’t matter to you what it’s doing to me?”

“Fuck!” He gave her a little shake. “I’m that unfeeling, am I? Really? I’m that much of a bastard?”

“That’s rat fink bastard,” she whispered, and felt her eyes fill.

“Mel.” He sat back, looking horrified. “Don’t you even think about crying.”

“I’m not.” She waved a hand in front of her face, trying to cool it. “I’m really not.” But she was. She sniffed. “I’m really not.”

“God. Christ. I don’t want you to cry.”

“Then you’re not going to like what’s coming next.” And she burst into tears.

“Shit.” But he pulled her into his lap, no small feat in the car that hadn’t just seen better years but better decades. “Shit.”

“I know!” she sobbed.

“Ah, Mel.” He held her close, stroked his hand up and down her back. “I’m so sorry, darlin’. So damned sorry. I know you wanted to find her.”

All she could do was cry harder at that, and he simply held her. “You feel like you lost her, I get that.” He pressed his face against her hair. “If it helps, I know what it’s like to lose someone, someone you think you can’t live without. Someone you think you need more than air.”

She clung to him. “Your dad?”

“Yeah. It’s going to hurt like hell for a long time, Mel, and that’s okay. It means you’re alive. It means you’re okay. It means you can learn to live with it, and go on.”

She kept her face to his throat, thinking he was truly a miracle in her life. And God, he smelled good. He smelled like soap, like warm man, like…like every secret hope and dream she’d ever had. To make herself feel better about those scary thoughts, she wiped her nose on his shirt.

He narrowed his eyes. “Did you just wipe your nose on me?”

She let out one last sniffle. “No.”

“Yes, you did.”

“Okay, a little. I’m okay now.”

“Mel.”

“I am.” She started to climb out of his lap but he held her, his gaze meeting hers.

“Truth,” he said.

“Maybe not so okay. We were nearly shot. Nearly killed!”

“Nearly doesn’t count except in horseshoes and hand grenades,” he said, and stroked a big hand up her back.

“It’s a new experience for me.”

“I just feel…” So much. “Jarringly, exceedingly…disconnected to my body, like I have a surplus of…adrenaline, or something,” she tried to explain.