Marilyn Pappano - The Sheriff's Surrender

“You did your job without regard for the truth, without the slightest concern for the reality of the situation. You wanted to win at any cost, and you succeeded—even though the cost was an innocent woman’s life. You may not have pulled the trigger, Neely, but you put the gun in that bastard’s hand. You put him back out on the streets. You made it possible for him to make good on his threats.”

“I was just doing my job! I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Lie to yourself, but don’t bother lying to me. I had to learn the hard way not to believe anything you say, but I did learn.” He walked out then and left her standing there looking…shaken. Upset. Regretful. And guilty. She knew she wasn’t as innocent in Judy’s death as she pretended.

Just as he knew that he shared some responsibility, too, along with the rest of the Keegan County Sheriff’s Department.

Refusing to follow that train of thought, he dropped down into his favorite chair and used the remote to turn on the television and surf through a hundred or so satellite channels before settling on a fifties-era Western. Though he’d seen the show before, he concentrated on it intensely so he wouldn’t have to notice that Neely was still standing where he’d left her, that her head was bowed and her shoulders rounded, or that she looked as forlorn and alone as anyone he’d ever seen.

If she was forlorn, that was her own fault, and being alone was her choice. She’d never faced any shortage of male attention. When they were dating, men had often hit on her right in front of him. Not men in Thomasville, who knew what she did or what he did, but in the city—in restaurants, clubs or just walking down the street. From teenage boys to white-haired grandfathers, it had seemed that no stranger was immune to her charms.

He sure as hell hadn’t been immune the first time he’d seen her. But he was now. He was older, tougher, less susceptible to women in general, to big brown eyes and delicate little smiles in particular. He knew there were things in life more important than great sex and that the price for getting mixed up with Neely was dearer than he could pay. Besides, after today, he wasn’t going to see her again.

And now he’d learned one more lesson—he was never doing another favor for Jace as long as he lived. That was a promise.

In the kitchen Neely finally moved—he heard, felt but didn’t see it—but she didn’t come into the living room. Good. It was easier to keep her out of his mind when she was out of his sight.

She gave him a few hours of relative peace, with nothing but the television to disturb the quiet, before she came in and sat uncomfortably on the edge of the couch. He pretended to not notice her for as long as he could, but clearly there was something she wanted to say, and just as clearly she didn’t intend to say it until he gave her his attention. He waited until the next commercial break, muted the TV and looked at her.

“What are the plans for today?”

His plans were to be rid of her by sundown. Other than that, he neither knew nor cared, and he shrugged to convey exactly that. “Either Jace will pick you up or you’ll go to the jail over in Buffalo Plains.”

“I understand that. But when?”

He shrugged again.

“Is there any reason I can’t go now?”

“Beyond the fact that Jace isn’t here?”

“You could take me to the jail.”

He could do that, Reese acknowledged—could give her over into the custody of the jailer, then go to his office on the floor above. Get some work done. Forget that she was locked up below in a six-by-eight-foot cell with a metal cot, no windows and no privacy even for the bathroom. Forget that she preferred such accommodations over his company. And while he was forgetting that, he would also wipe the last twenty-four hours from his memory. Sure, not a problem.

“Jace can pick me up there.”

But walking out of the jail with her would attract more attention than walking out of this house with her—more attention than his cousin would want. If she really was in danger, Reese wasn’t about to do anything that might increase that danger for Jace.

Her voice grew taut. “I’d rather stay in your jail than in your house.”

“I’d prefer that, too.” But the words felt like a lie. Truth was, he found the prospect of Neely behind bars—an idea he’d once taken great satisfaction in—unsettling. Behind bars in his own jail… Not yet. Not until Jace’s time ran out.

“I gave him until this evening,” he said flatly. “Like it or not, you’re stuck here until then.”

For a long moment his gaze locked with hers, until he finally forced his back to the television. He turned the audio on again and watched from the corner of his eye as she stood and walked out of the room.

He was in the process of giving a small sigh of relief when the back door slammed. Jumping to his feet, he made it to the door in record time, crossed the deck in a half dozen strides, took the steps in one leap and grabbed her arm before she’d made it halfway across the yard. He was prepared for her instinctive jerk, holding tightly enough that she accomplished nothing more than pulling herself off balance. Before she could try again, he pulled her back toward the house.

At the steps, she grabbed hold of the railing and planted her feet. “I’m not your prisoner!”

“You’re in my custody. What do you think that means?”

“I don’t want to stay here!”

“Tough. Now I’d advise you to let go of the rail or risk taking a fistful of splinters with you.”

At first she held on tighter, looking as if she’d like to sink her manicured nails into his hide, but after a moment she grudgingly released the rail and, making an effort at regaining some dignity, sedately climbed the steps. At the top, though, she dug in her heels again. “Let go of me.”

“Once you’re locked up inside.”

Her eyes were dark with impotent anger and her lip was showing the slightest tremble as they stared at each other. There was no doubt he would get his way—he was bigger, stronger, and way too accustomed to being obeyed. The only question was whether she would enter the house under her own power or over his shoulder like a sack of grain.

There was no telling what the outcome would have been if they hadn’t been interrupted by the surge of a powerful engine accelerating down the driveway. As if she weighed less than nothing, he dragged her across the deck and over the threshold, then gave her a shove toward the guest room. “Get in the bedroom, close the door and stay quiet,” he ordered as he closed and locked the door.

There was a time to be obstructive and a time to obey without argument. As Neely watched Reese remove his pistol from the holster tucked at the small of his back, she had no doubt about which time this was. She beat a quick retreat into the guest room, nearly tripping over her suitcase. After locking the door, she leaned against it and gave the room a quick scan. As guest rooms went, for a man who probably shared his bed with most of his overnight guests, the room lacked nothing. As a safe place to hide from unexpected visitors, it lacked everything. There was no way she could fit in the few-inch clearance between the floor and the bed, no cover in the empty closet and, thanks to the shelves and drawers and her own long legs, no space large enough inside the oak armoire.

She was worrying for nothing, she counseled herself. The visitor was probably the mailman or a delivery man, bringing a package to leave on the porch. It might even be Jace, come to rescue her.

But what if it was cause for worry? What if somehow, some way, Eddie Forbes had tracked her down and he’d come to finish what he’d started? He was too big a coward to come alone, so his thugs would be with him. Would Reese be able to protect her?