Helen Myers - The Officer And The Renegade

Taylor handed over her keys and picked up his from his desk blotter. “When I get to the house, I’d better find you stretched out on the couch with that leg up, and holding a cold beer.”

“Can’t have any. Doc’s got me on damned pain pills,” her father replied as she reached for the doorknob.

“Not for you. For me.”

By the time Taylor made a right onto Main Street, her stomach was churning and cramping. If it wasn’t for Kyle, she knew she could easily have made a U-turn and directed the old Chevy for the interstate, she felt that much the coward.

Hugh. Heaven help her. Until minutes ago, she’d believed she would never see him again; she had buried the dreams she’d once cherished for their future. The news that he had gained his freedom should have sent her shouting with joy and relief...only, thanks to her father’s explanation, there was nothing to celebrate, and everything to dread.

Somehow she had to keep her wits about her, do what she’d been hired to do. The past couldn’t be allowed to matter. Nothing else could matter.

It was barely a mile drive to Blackstone Feed and Supplies. A left turn at Crooked Pine Road and she saw the metal building. The plywood doors of the warehouse were wide open, and as she pulled into the dirt-and-gravel parking lot she saw a silhouette of someone moving around in there. She drew in a deep breath to ease the growing discomfort in her stomach, killed the truck’s engine and climbed out.

He was restacking fifty-pound sacks of range cubes. A quick glance to her left and right to make sure no one else was around told her that her father had been correct; this was a modest operation. There wasn’t so much as a forklift to help with the lifting and hauling, nor was there that much inventory. However, as she got closer, she could see powerful muscles flexing and stretching across Hugh’s bronzed back, and realized that he wouldn’t have needed any help if the business had been larger. But then, he’d always been capable.

She didn’t like that her mouth went dry again. After fourteen years, she expected more from herself, regardless of their history. On the other hand, theirs was some history.

She had been the one for him, the only one who ever knew the feel of that strong, magnificent body against hers, and those callused yet gentle hands exploring and claiming. From the day they’d met as kids, back when their relationship had been about kinship and understanding, through the sweet, sweet years of discovering love, then passion...all the way to the moment the court bailiffs escorted him away, there had never been anyone else for either of them. That was a huge stack of memories for a woman to repress, even a woman with a profession like hers.

When she’d pulled up, he had glanced over his shoulder and recognized the truck, but he finished stacking the last two sacks before he faced her. Only now did she realize he’d been expecting her father. It was there in the way he suddenly froze. Because of where she was standing, she supposed she was little more than a silhouette against the blinding New Mexico sun. But apparently there was nothing wrong with his memory.

Finally, slowly, he began to walk toward her.

“How the hell did he get you to come back?”

She thought of potential replies. Since they would all require a strength and control she didn’t possess quite yet, she simply said, “It’s good to see you, Hugh.”

He stepped closer, so close she could smell salt, heat and man. Suddenly it all came back—the way he kissed, the care he took undressing her, how it felt to hold him deep, deep inside her. The memories struck like one tidal wave after another, until she wanted to slump to the concrete floor and weep for dreams and innocence lost. But somehow she remained upright, and met his furious scowl.

He glared at her badge and read her T-shirt. Sort of. Mostly his gaze raked up and down her, and she concluded years of incarceration had changed his tastes. No doubt he now thought her about as appealing as a telephone pole. It was only a guess, though; his sharp black eyes gave nothing away.

He finally settled his focus on her gun. “Is that supposed to be some kind of joke?”

“No. I just haven’t had time to change into my uniform yet.”

“So that’s why you’re here. Funny how social calls mean different things these days.”

“Please, Hugh.” She saw no point in hiding the weariness in her voice. “I didn’t know you were here until fifteen minutes ago. I’ve only been back in town for about twenty myself.”

She hoped he could find it within himself to ignore the badge and gun, as she wanted to. If only she could reach him on the level she once did. As once no one else could. How furious she was with her father for taking advantage of their past.

“This is no place for you.” Bitterness and defeat chilled his words. “It’s not going to be a pretty homecoming.”

“Yes, well...I don’t know about pretty, but one thing it isn’t going to be is violent.”

“You think that badge and gun will stop the inevitable?”

He was starting to sound as though he was heading for the gunfight at the O.K. Corral or something. She needed to try another approach. “Regardless of what you think, Hugh...I’m glad you’re out.”

“Then you’re one of the few.”

“That’s not what I heard.”

“Isn’t it?”

His piercing, unrelenting gaze threatened to turn her into a coward. She suspected a scorpion sting would feel friendlier. On the other hand, he had a legitimate reason for the attitude. “We need to talk.”

Once again he considered her badge and the gun. “While you’re wearing that stuff? I don’t think so.”

“I’m willing to put the gun and badge in the car if that will help.”

Something primitive flashed in his eyes. “You can take off anything you want.”

“Is talk like that necessary? We were friends once.”

“Friends don’t send friends to jail.”

“I didn’t send you to jail. A judge and jury did.”

“But you told your father where to find me.”

“To save your life! To keep Murdock Marsden from ordering someone to hunt you down like an animal and kill you in cold blood. I won’t apologize for that.”

He didn’t respond, at least not with words. He did, however, close the few yards remaining between them. The lazy, almost insolent stride gave her ample time to confirm that he hadn’t wasted his time in prison, but had made full use of the gym. Beneath the black mat of chest hair, there wasn’t an ounce of spare flesh on him. Every inch of exposed skin was glistening, toned muscle. He’d been something to look at as a young man of twenty-two. Now at thirty-six, without a strand of gray in his black hair, she had no words to describe him, beyond breathtaking. But, dear Lord, his face... The hardness and bitterness in those sharp, sculpted features were too much to endure. In his eyes she saw a man who’d suffered every day of the fourteen years taken from him. This was a man whose entire aura vibrated outrage.

It took all of her courage to stand her ground, and she couldn’t deny a brief impulse to place her hand on her revolver. Making matters worse, when he stopped a spare foot away from her, she had to tilt back her head thanks to her father’s dratted hat blocking her view.

“When’d you cut your hair?”

The question came as a surprise, but it was better than others he could have asked. “When I entered the Detroit police academy.”

It shouldn’t have been possible, but his expression grew more grim; nevertheless, once again he took his time with this closer inspection. He lingered longest on her mouth. Once he’d told her that she had a heartbreaker smile and that her kisses alone could make him come. Older and wiser now, she knew men said things like that to women all the time to get them into bed. But Hugh hadn’t. She’d been the one doing the begging—for what had seemed like forever. He had turned her down each and every time because she’d been only seventeen then. Turned her down, although he’d said himself that there would never be anyone else for either of them.