Chapter Thirty-One
Jackson didn’t call with an update.
He sent a cryptic text to notify her that he’d found Paul and they were coming to the station.
She responded with a flurry of questions about Paul, all of which he ignored.
She paced back and forth in her father’s office, nibbling at the edge of her thumbnail while Emily napped on the couch.
When Jackson’s truck finally pulled into the parking lot, she hurried to the only window and watched as Paul exited the vehicle.
She felt a wave of relief at the sight of him, alive and upright.
He was barefoot, his arms streaked with blood and dirt.
He wore a torn T-shirt and a pair of striped boxer shorts she recognized from their morning encounter.
She fought the urge to run outside and embrace him.
She wasn’t concerned about making a fool of herself in front of her father’s deputies or sending mixed messages to a man she’d rejected.
She hesitated because his arrival was met with a flurry of activity.
Wade Hendricks, Deputy Lopez and another officer formed a tactical circle around Paul as Jackson guided him forward.
They looked like a special investigations unit bringing in a high-profile criminal.
A cold hand snaked down her spine at the sight. She’d been worried that Bennett would kill Paul, perhaps naively, considering Paul’s law enforcement training. Now it seemed far more likely that the reverse had happened.
Swallowing hard, she grabbed her father’s first-aid kit.
Before she could rush out, Jackson came in.
The tension in his stance reminded her that he risked his life every time he donned a uniform, and today had been especially treacherous.
Fresh tears flooded her eyes as he wrapped her in a tight hug.
He was safe and sound. She didn’t need another family member in a hospital bed.
When she released him, he glanced at Emily’s sleeping form with a mixture of sadness and sympathy.
“Bennett?” she mouthed.
He shook his head once.
Clutching his arm, she led him out to the hall and pulled the door shut behind her. “What happened to him?”
“We don’t know for sure. His body hasn’t been recovered from the lake.”
“Body?”
Jackson nodded grimly.
Vanessa didn’t know how to react to this news. Her husband of five years, the father of her only child, was dead. Paul had saved her from the same fate and they were treating him like a suspect instead of a victim. “What did Paul say?”
“He’s making his statement now.”
“It was self-defense,” she said. “It must have been.”
“It’s more complicated than that.”
“How?”
Jackson took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. “There was a second gunman at the scene. He had a sniper rifle set up less than a mile from your cabin. We believe Paul was his target. Bennett got caught in the crossfire.”
Vanessa’s knees turned to water. “A second gunman?”
“Someone Paul tangled with in Houston. A member of a criminal family.”
“No,” she breathed.
“It’s not over yet. We haven’t found the gunman. Wade called in the FBI and every officer in town is on duty. You should stay in Dad’s office with Emily. I’ll take you home as soon as I’m free.”
“I want to see him.”
“Who?”
“Paul.”
Jackson lowered his head and held her gaze. “Did you hear what I just said? That guy is not safe to be around. There’s a freaking psychopath after him. Bennett was shot. You could have been shot.”
“I heard you.”
“And you don’t care?”
“Of course I care,” she said, glowering back at him. “Paul saved my life today. I might have been shot by Bennett if he hadn’t stepped in. He put himself in harm’s way for me and I owe him a thank you.”
Jackson dragged a hand down his face. “You can talk to him after Wade is finished.”
“He also needs medical attention right now.”
“It’s been offered.”
Vanessa swore under her breath. Damn the man for being so stoic.
“I’ll order some sandwiches. Do you want smashed frog or a slug special?”
She smiled at the old joke. “Smashed frog, please.”
He patted her shoulder and walked away. She returned to the office to watch over Emily.
A turkey sandwich with sprouts arrived soon after, but she was too wound up to eat.
Emily woke up from her nap and ate the “slug special,” aka bologna with cheese.
When Jackson finally returned, the little girl was wrapping her doll in bandages.
“Penelope fell out of a tree and broke her arm,” Emily said.
“Did she?”
“Kiss her.”
Jackson dutifully kissed the yarn-covered head, and held up a finger to indicate that Paul was in room one.
Vanessa collected the first-aid kit and headed toward the interrogation room.
Wade Hendricks stood like a sentry outside a closed door.
It was unorthodox for a civilian to speak to a witness or suspect before they were released, but Vanessa was the sheriff’s daughter, and she’d been through an ordeal. He moved aside to allow her entry.
Paul glanced up as she came into the room.
He was sitting alone at a table, pen in hand.
She closed the door behind her and set the first-aid kit on the table.
His gaze traveled over her, scanning her face and form as if memorizing every detail.
She did the same, taking in his dirt-streaked shirt and stormy gray-blue eyes.
She didn’t know who stepped forward first. One minute, they were staring at each other.
The next, he was on his feet, and she was wrapped up in his strong embrace.
She pressed her face to his neck, smothering a sob. He slid an arm around her waist and clung to her. He smelled of lake water and juniper trees, sweaty skin and damp earth. Before they broke apart, she noticed his left arm hadn’t moved.
“You’re hurt,” she murmured.
“I’m okay.”
She studied his tense features and read the lie. His injured arm hung at his side, useless. The tendon that had been surgically repaired might have torn again. “You need to be seen by a physician.”
“I’ll go later.”
There was no PT that would fix him in this state, so she didn’t try. She noted the scrapes on his forearms and the red marks around his wrists. Before she could ask about them, he lifted her right hand to his lips and kissed a scratch at the base of her palm.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured.
Her wounds were minor compared to his. She drew in a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry, too.”
“This is all my fault.”
“It’s Bennett’s fault.”
Paul pressed his lips to her wrist, where the duct tape had left residue. “I hurt you.”
She didn’t care about the harrowing escape she’d made from the cabin earlier. His situation had been far more precarious. “What you said this morning did mean something to me. And what you did with Bennett … it means everything.”
Paul searched her other arm for scratches. Finding none, he pulled her closer and kissed the top of her head.
“I thought he’d kill you.”
He stroked her hair with one hand.
“I was afraid you’d die thinking I didn’t love you.”
His hand went still, mid-stroke. Then it fell away from her hair and he took a step back. His gaze seared into hers, bloodshot and weary. He returned to the metal chair and sat down in it. “I can’t stay here.”
“In this room?”
“In this town. It’s not safe for me. It’s not safe for you and Emily.”
At some point he’d been given a pair of drawstring scrub pants to wear.
He’d washed his hands and face, but his arms were still dirty and his wrists bore shallow cuts.
She removed the antiseptic wipes from the first-aid kit and tended to him.
Although it was obvious he’d been bound, he didn’t appear to have been beaten.
“What happened to your jeans?” she asked.
He winced as she cleaned his left wrist. “I had to take them off to swim.”
She wondered how close he’d come to drowning. Instead of asking, she fashioned a makeshift sling out of bandages. When she secured his left arm against his chest, some of the tension eased from his body.
“Thank you.”
“I have painkillers.”
“I took some already.”
She put her supplies away.
He grasped her hand and pulled gently, until she settled into his lap. “Kyle’s coming to pick me up. I don’t know where I’ll go, or how long I’ll be gone, but I promise you this: I’ll come back to you.”
She smiled at his certainty.
“You don’t believe me.”
“I believe you want to.”
“Listen to me,” he said. “I have to leave, and I’m sorry about that. As soon as it’s safe, I’ll come back to you.”
“What if it’s never safe?”
“Then I’ll pine away for you forever.”
“Damn you,” she said softly.
“I don’t expect you to do the same.”
“You don’t expect me to stay single?”
“No.”
“But that’s what you’ll do?”
“Yes.”
She touched her lips to his neck, tasting salt. “I won’t wait my whole life for you to come back to me, Paul McPherson.”
“All right.”
“You can’t do it, either.”
“I don’t have a choice. You’ve ruined me for other women.”
When his mouth closed over hers, she melted against him. She kissed him back with all of the love and passion and tenderness she hadn’t allowed herself to feel before. He twined his tongue around hers and buried a hand in her hair. Tears streaked down her cheeks, mixing with their kiss.
Then the door burst open and Kyle McPherson walked in. “What the fuck is this?” he asked Wade. “My brother is injured, and instead of getting medical attention he’s in here making out with the sheriff’s daughter? I’m calling my lawyer.”
“Calm down,” Paul said. “I’m fine.”
Vanessa tried to get up, and he clamped an arm around her waist.
“I love you,” he said in her ear.
She wanted to say the words back to him, but her throat closed up and she could only nod her head.
When he released her, she rose from his lap and gathered the first-aid kit.
They exchanged a final glance, fraught with emotion, while Kyle continued to make demands.
Tears blurred her vision as she turned and fled the room.