Chapter 9 #3
“So if you don’t survive an encounter with Tate and Baker, how does that work for me? I’ll just waltz into the nearest FBI office, drop the diamonds on the desk and tell them you sent me to collect?”
“Actually, that could work,” he said with a smile. “With either the casino or the FBI. The casino security footage would support your claim. You’d have the money to invest in your business.”
“Oh.” Her fingers dug into the blanket keeping her legs warm. She might wring his neck after all, if he didn’t give up this idea of becoming a martyr for her.
She recognized this side of Wyatt. Should’ve expected this kind of reaction.
When they were kids, he tried to fix his mother’s mistakes, to cover for her.
He would throw himself into the sport of the season, apply himself to school work, or find odd jobs to keep himself busy.
To make himself valuable, as if every good thing he did could erase the stain of her addiction and neglect.
Until this moment, Evie had never felt like one of his projects. The grief of his sudden departure, the rejection and self-doubt she’d endured in that hollow aftermath was better than being put into a box for Wyatt’s higher purpose. She wouldn’t let him get away with doing it now. Not with her.
He’d made choices and eventually life had brought him back to Deadwood. She’d dealt with her emotional roadblocks in his absence. It was time for them to clear the air and redefine how things would work between them now.
“You can fix it all.” She was on her feet before she realized she’d moved. “That’s great, if you want to be the hero of the world—live or die—but don’t think I’m going to sit right here batting my eyelashes and being grateful.”
That got his attention. He looked up, heat burning in his blue eyes. “You don’t have to be grateful. I don’t recall asking for your thanks.”
“No, you didn’t ask for anything. That’s the problem.” With all the dignity she could muster in her current state of dishevelment, she collected her disposable soup cup and spoon and carried them to the trash. “You probably just assume I’ll give your damn eulogy.”
“You’re overreacting.”
The word hung there between them. Now she was hot all over. Hot enough to probably melt the first foot of snow pressed up against the window if she touched the glass.
“Caring about the welfare of someone I love is not overreacting. Think about it, Wyatt. You’re boxing me up and pushing me away. Again. It’s just another verse of the sad song you played eleven years ago. A man has a serious problem when he’d rather risk death than face his feelings.”
He shoved back from the table and stalked over to her. “How am I the bad guy because I want to keep the woman I love out of harm’s way?”
It should have been elation coursing through her at his declaration, instead it was a stomach-dropping dread.
Eleven years ago he’d told her he loved her and he’d walked away without a word.
He gripped her shoulders, his gaze drilling into her, through her.
She felt more vulnerable with him right now than she had when the SUV had slid off the road.
“The robbery, the crash, nearly killed me.” She felt the distinct pressure of every single fingertip as she watched him gather his thoughts. “Not the weather or the car or even Cordell’s stupid guns. You. You at risk, in jeopardy because of me. I can’t bear that again, Evie.”
“Well man up,” she managed. “You need someone to watch your back. Someone who can navigate through a little snow.”
He closed his eyes and his hands fell away. Then he tipped his head to the ceiling, exposing that strong column of his throat as he laughed bitterly. “Only you would call the worst storm in history a little snow.”
Was he giving in? She couldn’t tell. It had never been easy to win an argument with Wyatt.
Her fingers itched to touch him, not with anger or frustration. No, he made her long for the heat of his skin, the rasp of his whiskers and the sensual promise in every firm muscle of the man he’d become.
“We’ll leave the diamonds here,” she suggested, pressing what she chose to believe was a momentary advantage. “You said Baker was injured. We can do this.”
He shook his head and swore. “I forgot you had the diamonds. Once Cordell figures out his take is short he’ll come unhinged.” Wyatt’s eyes were full of worry again. “I know you want to help me, but you don’t know him like I do.”
“He doesn’t know me either. He doesn’t know us.
” She realized that having this discussion while she was wrapped in a blanket wasn’t helping her cause.
She tossed the covering over the back of a chair and stalked down the hall toward the storage area.
Although they didn’t carry a full line of outerwear for sale, she knew the Greenbriars kept the back room stocked for personal use.
“You sure got comfortable with their operation,” Wyatt observed from the doorway as she helped herself to silk underwear, a sweater, two pairs of thick socks, water-resistant pants and better-fitting boots.
“Part of the near-merger.” She kept her voice neutral as she wriggled into the warm clothing. “You used to like the Greenbriars.”
“That was before I knew you wanted to marry one of them.”
“Wanted is definitely overstating it. It was business.” She shot him a look, enjoying the thrill of the possessive gleam in his gaze. “This stash is mostly for emergencies for staff, customers, or search and rescue efforts. You remember how those go.”
“Yeah. I’d rather we didn’t add to those statistics.” He was at her back again, crowding her as he examined the supply closet. “You won’t even think of staying behind?”
She turned within the framework of his arms, sparkles of need lighting her up inside. He may not want to admit it, but he needed her. Survive first, then deal with the rest of their unfinished business. “Did that approach work for you after the crash?”
“That was different.” His gaze dropped to her mouth. “I believed you’d go for help.”
She licked her lips. “Convinced yourself is more accurate.”
His mouth crashed to hers and those big hands pulled her tightly against his hard body. She couldn’t decide if there were too many or too few layers between them. Her hands slid under his shirts, gliding over the defined ridges of his taut abs.
Her blood positively sizzled in her veins. She’d missed this intensity, this intimacy so much. No one else had ever stirred her like Wyatt. Maybe this would become a closure kiss or a what-if kiss, but she didn’t care. It was a right-now kiss and she locked into the moment.
What they’d been to each other as kids, the potential for more tempted her beyond reason. She wasn’t letting him go without a fight.
He cupped her face, tunneled his hands into her hair, tipping her mouth to the perfect angle. She couldn’t resist him. Had never wanted to. They were good together, at school, at work, and at this.
She smoothed her hands along his spine, her fingers digging in when he nuzzled that sensitive spot on her neck. With a chuckle, he brought his forehead to hers.
They’d exchanged versions of ‘I love you’, words she’d never given to another man, and yet the ramifications had to wait until Cordell was contained.
“Please stay here,” he whispered.
“Only if you stay here with me,” she countered.
“Mule.”
“Ass.” She softened the insult with a fast kiss and a squeeze of his backside before she slipped out of his arms.
She found a sweater and they both chose better cold-weather gear. Wyatt gathered a coil of rope and a hunting knife too.
“Flare gun?” he asked.
“No one would see it,” she reminded him.
She emptied the pockets of Karl’s coat onto the front counter.
“Here are the diamonds.” He walked up beside her and stared down at the massive Mae West Solitaire, giving a low whistle.
Even the low light from the window set the gems on fire, the stones casting that fire across the walls and ceiling. Across his striking face.
“They’ll be safer here,” she said, dragging her thoughts back on track.
“We might need the leverage,” he said. “Above all, Cordell is greedy.”
She believed him. “They sure dress up a space.” Her gaze followed the colorful refracted light. “How did he plan to liquidate them?”
“I’m sure he has a fence lined up,” Wyatt said. “He paid me a few grand up front, and the rest was supposed to hit my account within a week of his escape. That’s all up to the FBI now. I just want him out of Deadwood and far away from you.”
She tipped one of the larger stones from Karl’s stash back and forth on the countertop. “Would you have come to see me? Be honest,” she added, without looking at him. She didn’t want to believe their new connection was completely a coincidence or a byproduct of an attempt to stop a thief.
Behind her, he sighed. “No. Yes. Probably no,” he amended. She caught him scrubbing at the stubble on his jaw and she wished they could go back to kissing. “I’d hoped to get in and out of town without seeing you,” he admitted. “But seeing you now, I know I couldn’t have left without checking in.”
Love was a multi-faceted pain in the butt, she thought.
Chip away at one side and something else emerged.
She gathered up the smaller diamonds for safekeeping and zipped them into her pocket.
Going back to the storeroom, she found another sock to protect the Mae West and zipped that outrageous stone into a different pocket.
“I never wanted you to get hurt,” he said. “Then or now.”
She nodded, once. “I’m sorry.”
“What do you have to apologize for?”
She shrugged. “The years we lost. My bitterness over it.” She met his gaze. “All of the very dark thoughts I’ve aimed at you recently.”
He grinned. “Pretty sure I deserved every one of those dark thoughts.”
“Oh, you did.” She laughed, then braced against the counter to get her boots on. “Tell me what you have in mind for corralling Cordell.”