Chapter 13 #4
By midnight, the last of the law enforcement vehicles rolled down the drive. Russo was being transported to federal custody. His hired guns were in county lockup. The ranch was finally, blessedly quiet.
Community members who'd stayed through the crisis were finally heading home. Mrs. Halloway with promises to pray for everyone involved, Cooter with his smoker packed up and a promise to return for a less violent barbecue next time.
Arletta appeared on the porch around one a.m. with a thermos of coffee spiked with something that definitely wasn't creamer and a plate of leftover biscuits.
"Figured you two might need sustenance," she said, setting a tray beside them. "Also figured you might need someone to tell you you're being idiots."
Mike and Liv exchanged glances.
"We're being idiots?" Liv asked.
"You're sitting out here in the cold, rehashing a crisis that's already over, when you could be inside getting some actual sleep." Arletta poured coffee into two mugs, doctored them both liberally. "Trauma's gonna be there tomorrow, honey. It'll wait. Your body won't."
"Yes, ma'am," they said in unison.
She turned to go back inside, but paused at the door. "For what it's worth? I'm proud of you both. What you did tonight, standing your ground, protecting that baby, refusing to let evil win, that's what family does. And you're family now, Liv. All the way through."
After she left, Mike and Liv sat in silence, sipping the spiked coffee, letting the night settle around them.
The air smelled like smoke and jasmine and the particular scent of Texas summer giving way to fall, sweet decay and new growth tangled together. From the barn, one of the horses nickered softly. Overhead, stars wheeled in their ancient patterns, indifferent to human drama, constant as breath.
Liv breathed it in, all of it. The smells, the sounds, the solid warmth of Mike beside her. This place. This man. This life she'd stumbled into and had somehow, impossibly, claimed as her own.
"Charlotte told Russo that love was stronger than being mean. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world."
"She's not wrong."
"A child shouldn't have to face a murderer and explain morality to him."
"No. She shouldn't." Mike's arm came around her shoulders. "But she did. And she was magnificent. Just like her Miss Liv."
Liv leaned into him, exhausted beyond words. "Is it really over?"
"Federal prosecutor confirmed it. Russo's done. Even without your testimony, they've got enough to lock him up for the rest of his life. Your deposition just ensures he never sees daylight again."
"I lied," Liv said quietly. "About the deposition. I didn't give one three days ago."
Mike went very still beside her. "What?"
"I gave one this morning. Five a.m., right after training. FBI agent came out, we did the whole thing in Joe's office while you were checking the perimeter." She managed a tired smile. "But Russo didn't know that. So I bluffed."
"You bluffed a mob boss with a gun on a six-year-old."
"Actually, I was the only one with a gun. He said he was unarmed.”
“And you believed him?”
“Well, no. That’s why I kept the pistol pointed at him. I wasn’t letting him get through me to Charlotte.”
“Gutsy.”
“I learned from the best. You Watkins boys and your terrible judgment are contagious."
He laughed, surprised and proud and so relieved he felt dizzy. "God, I love you."
"I love you too. Even though your family is completely insane and your ranch attracts violence like a magnet."
Mike laughed and drew her closer to his side. "Between you and Heather, I suppose we have seen more than our fair share of intrigue lately. I could do with a little less excitement, if you want to know the truth."
Liv remembered what Heather had told about the ex-husband who'd tracked her down and terrorized her. Who'd learned, like Russo, that the Watkins family didn't surrender their own.
"You seem to collect strays," Liv said softly. "Broken things that need fixing."
"We collect family," Mike corrected. "There's a difference."
He turned her to face him, both hands coming up to frame her face with a tenderness that made her chest ache.
His thumbs brushed her cheekbones, and in the dim light from the kitchen window, she could see everything written plain across his features—love and relief and wonder that they'd both survived to see morning.
She wasn’t sure she even knew how to be here now that the danger had passed and she was no longer in hiding. On the run.
She was in love with Mike Watkins. Yes.
But her entire life, the life she’d lived up until just a few short months ago, was in New York.
She’d put a closed sign on her building, paid severances to her two part-time employees and simply left everything behind.
There would be back rent to pay on her Crème & Crumble space.
For all she knew, the landlord had liquidated her equipment and rented out her space to someone else.
She’d worked her whole life for that business, to prove herself. Maybe even to prove something to her parents.
Did she even want that anymore?
The coast was clear to return to Manhattan, to resume a life that was familiar.
The problem was, this life here with Mike felt more familiar.