Beverly Barton - Paladin's Woman

"Gerald Carlton had better hope he has an alibi for the past few hours." Brett laughed, then nudged Nick in the stomach with his gun.

"Where did you park, Windsor?" Nick asked. "I didn't hear you drive up."

"I parked far enough away so you couldn't hear me." Brett grinned, showing his straight, white teeth. "I haven't got time to tie you up, Romero, so I'm going to have to shoot you."

"Yeah, that would be the only smart thing to do. But before you shoot me, tell me how you knew I'd found Addy."

"Dina called me, the minute you left." Brett shook his head and grunted several times. "I hope she doesn't freak out on me. She's upset about all the killing. Dina's such a delicate little thing. I don't know how she would have survived all these years without me."

"Haven't you got that backwards, Windsor?" Nick taunted, wondering if he could rile the other man enough so he'd make a mistake, one that might give Nick the chance to jump him.

"What do you mean by that?"

"You've been living off Dina ever since you went through your share of your father's estate. For months now, Rusty McConnell has been paying your bills."

"He's damned rich enough to pay my bills. He knows I keep Dina happy, and that old fool is so hung up on our Dina that he'd do just about anything for her."

"I doubt he would have welcomed you so cordially if he'd known you and Dina were lovers."

Addy sucked in her breath so loudly that Nick heard her, and knew that Brett had, too.

Brett laughed, his toothy grin sinister in a way that made Addy wonder why she'd never noticed the neurotic glint in his eyes. "Oh, we've all loved her, haven't we, Nicky? That's what she calls him, you know." Brett turned toward Addy, giving her a hasty glance. Nick took a step in his direction. He turned back quickly. "No, you don't!"

"I've known Dina a lot longer than you have," Nick said. "She won't be able to live with herself if you go through with this. She'll break under the pressure."

"That won't be your problem."

All three occupants of the parlor heard the cars drive up, doors slam and footsteps pound on the veranda. Wild-eyed and clearly frightened, Brett grabbed Nick, twisting his arm behind his back and sticking the 10 mm. against his waist.

Dina Lunden ran into the parlor, then stopped dead still when she saw Brett and Nick. "Please, Brett … darling, you mustn't do this."

"What the hell are you doing here, Dina?" Brett asked, his voice shrill.

Rusty McConnell bounded into the room, stopping at Dina's side. "My God!"

"You brought Rusty with you!" Brett screeched. "What were you thinking of? This wasn't part of my plan. None of this was. Everything's going wrong."

"Brett, don't kill anyone else. If you let Nick and Addy go, then Rusty won't file charges, will you, Rusty?"

When Dina turned to him, D.B. McConnell glared at her, then at Brett Windsor. "That's right. I'll see that you're set up with as much money as you think you'll need, and I'll hire a private plane to take you anywhere you want to go."

"I want it all," Brett said, releasing Nick and walking toward Dina, whose arms were outstretched in a pleading, come-to-me gesture. "Dina and I can't live on a paltry six million dollars. I killed once for such a small amount. This time, it'll have to be more."

"Brett?" Dina dropped her open arms. "You didn't kill your father. He—he—Ashley had a heart attack."

"There are ways to fake a heart attack," Brett said.

Nick knew he had a slight chance of catching Windsor off guard as long as Dina kept talking to him. He had to risk it. Now!

Nick jumped Brett. The 10 mm. flew out of Brett's hand and slid across the floor. The two men locked in a struggle of brute strength, fists pounding, knuckles crunching. Brett Windsor was no match for his bigger, stronger opponent. Nick landed one final blow, knocking Brett to the floor.

"Nick, the gun!" Dina yelled.

Then Addy screamed when she saw Brett's bloody hand reach out and grab the 10 mm. from where it had landed on the parlor floor. As if in slow motion, the scene reeled off in front of Addy. Still lying on the floor, Brett turned over, aimed the gun and fired at Nick. Dina ran across the room, her voluptuous body separating the two men. The bullet entered her neck. She fell forward, face down on the floor.

Another gunshot sounded. Ned Johnson stood in the doorway, his automatic in his hand. Brett Windsor lay lifeless, his blank stare facing the ceiling.

Rusty McConnell rushed over, cradling Dina in his arms. Blood gushed from her wound. Nick took a moment to check her condition. Brett's bullet had hit an artery.

"Johnson, get over here quick," Nick said, then rushed to Addy.

While he busied himself cutting through the canvas belt, Nick heard Dina's dying words. "Oh, Rusty, darling, forgive me. I—I never meant for—"

"Nick, are you all right?" Tears streamed down Addy's flushed cheeks.

"I'm fine, Red." He kept sawing away at the belt. "Johnson, you'd better get Rusty and Dina out of here. Fast."

"We don't have much time, do we?" Addy asked.

"Enough," Nick lied. Two minutes and counting down. The red numerals flashed a warning signal. Sweat coated the palms of Nick's hands.

Ned Johnson picked up Dina's lifeless body. "Come on, Mr. McConnell. Let's get Dina outside and let Nick take care of things in here."

"But Addy—" Rusty said.

"Nick's got everything under control," Johnson assured D.B. McConnell.

"I can't leave Addy." Rusty refused to budge.

Ned carried Dina's body outside, returning momentarily with two young agents who forcefully dragged an enraged D.B. McConnell out of the house.

Only another inch to cut through. Sweat poured off Nick's face. One minute. Fifty-nine seconds. Fifty-eight.

Addy knew time was running out. She said a silent prayer. God wouldn't let them die. Not now when they'd just found each other. "Nick, I love you."

Forty-six seconds. Cut. Forty-five. Cut. Forty-four. Cut. "I love you, too, Red. I love you so damned much." Forty seconds. Cut. Thirty-nine. Cut.

The last thread broke. The belt fell free. Twenty. Nineteen. Eighteen. Grabbing the deadly canvas strap, Nick ran as fast as his bad leg would permit, praying with each faulty step that he'd make it outside in time. If Addy hadn't been hog-tied, he would have left the belt in the house and told her to run. Ten. Nine. Eight.

Reaching the veranda, he raised the belt high in the sky. Five. Four. With all the strength in his arm, he flung the bomb out into the wooded area, away from the house and away from the parked cars. He made it into the foyer when the explosion rocked the house, shattering several windowpanes.

"Nick! Nick!" Addy screamed his name over and over again.

Picking himself up off the floor, Nick hurried into the parlor, rushing to Addy's side. He bent down, cutting through the nylon cord that bound her. Pulling loose from the severed rope, Addy fell into Nick's open arms. She cried tears of happiness while Nick covered her face with frantic kisses.

"If anything had happened to you … if I'd lost you." Nick's voice quivered with the strength of his feelings.

Addy reached out, covering his cheek with her hand. She felt the damp stickiness of his sweat, and then she felt something else. Running her fingers upward, she looked at Nick. Tears filled his eyes.

"I'm all right. You saved me." She kissed him and hugged him and kept right on crying.

He held her in his arms, refusing to release her, even when Ned Johnson and Rusty McConnell came into the parlor. He wouldn't even let Rusty touch Addy. He couldn't bear the thought of letting her go. He'd never known what it was like to value someone else's life more than his own, to know that if she died, he didn't want to live, either. Addy McConnell was his whole world, and he was never going to let her out of his sight again. Not for the rest of their lives.