Cowboy in the Crossfire

Amanda.

He couldn’t believe it was her. The woman he’d nearly lost his senses to beneath the mistletoe one very memorable Christmas Eve. The woman who’d tempted him beyond endurance. The woman he’d known he could never have because she was his best friend’s sister. And she’d almost died.

“Amanda?” What was that bastard Vince’s sister doing in the middle of an ice storm four-hundred miles from home?

Ethan scooted under Blake’s arm and laid a small hand on his mother’s cheek. “Mommy?” he whispered. “Wake up. Please. I’m scared.”

At the boy’s plaintive words, Blake nearly doubled over. Had his four-year-old son said the same thing to his mother after the accident? Blake knew from the autopsy report his ex-wife had died instantly, but Joey had lived for several minutes after their car had been blindsided. His son had been alone, frightened and dying, probably begging for his mother to wake up. Maybe calling for his father to save him. But Blake hadn’t been there.

Well, he was here now. For Amanda. He ripped off her gloves and clasped her hands. Ice-cold. No way could he warm her in these wet clothes. He unzipped her insubstantial coat. The right side of her shirt was soaked in blood.

“What the hell?”

He pushed the denim aside and stared at the injury just below and outside the soft curve of her left breast. He recognized a gunshot wound when he saw one.

Blake grabbed a clean dish towel from the kitchen and pressed it to the gash, causing Amanda to moan. “Get your coat on, kid. We’re taking your mom to the doctor.” One look out the window told him the ride would be an interesting trip. The visibility had deteriorated even more in the last few minutes. “Hopefully I’ll get us to the hospital in one piece.”

Amanda stirred restlessly on the couch.

He nabbed the microphone from the sofa table. “Parris, this is Blake.” The static from the line shattered the night. “Deputy, you there?”

Amanda tugged at his arm with a weak but desperate grip. “No hospital,” she whispered. “Hide us. Please. Or we’re dead.”

The stark words ricocheted through Blake as she struggled to sit, then collapsed in his arms. He eased her down, and pushed back the curls surrounding her face. She was hurt, and vulnerable, and she couldn’t tell him why. What had she gotten herself into that she’d risk her life to stay hidden?

He glanced at Ethan. With the gunshot wound, Blake had to give her the benefit of the doubt. If she was telling the truth, he refused to put the boy’s life in jeopardy.

“Sheriff? You heading out on patrol?” The ghost of a voice broke through the crackling radio.

“Not yet. Parris, let me know if you or Smithson see any strangers wandering the town. I’ll get back to you.”

He knelt next to the sofa and studied his unexpected visitor. Amanda had changed in the last six months. Thinner, her skin nearly translucent. Circles beneath her eyes, but still so beautiful, he had to remind himself to breathe. She’d obviously been through hell. Blake motioned to the boy whose eyes had grown wide and fear-filled. “Ethan? How did your mom get hurt?”

The boy looked at his unconscious mother and shook his head. “I promised I wouldn’t tell.”

Secrets. They burned Blake’s gut. He’d experienced too many in Austin. At the same time, he admired Amanda’s kid. Blake recognized Ethan’s terror from his trembling hands. The boy wanted to cry but bit down on his lip, fighting against the panic. Amanda’s son showed more courage in that moment than most grown men Blake had witnessed facing a gun on the streets.

He crouched so he was eye to eye with the boy. “Promises are important, but your mom came to me for help. I’m one of the good guys, remember?”

Ethan simply stared at Blake, his eyes too suspicious for a boy of five. “Mommy?” His tentative hand tugged at his mother’s sleeve.

“She’s hurt, Ethan. But she doesn’t want to go to the doctor. I need to know what happened. I want to make her well.”

The boy shifted back and forth, stared at his unconscious mother, then back at Blake. He lifted his chin and met Blake’s gaze. “A bad man tried to hurt us. Mommy saved me.”

* * *

THE BED WAS SOFT, the room dark except for a small night-light. Amanda felt warm for the first time in hours. She must be dead. There didn’t seem to be any other explanation.

She shifted. Her flesh burned like fire. This definitely wasn’t heaven.

Reality came flooding back.

Vince. Ethan.

She tried to sit up, but a sharp, blazing pain pierced her side. She fell back with a groan.

“Not a good move, considering you tried to stop a bullet with your body.”

She’d recognize the soft drawl of that voice anywhere.

Blake Redmond.

She scanned up from his worn cowboy boots, past his corduroys to a dark green sweater that emphasized the flecks of jade and gold in his glittering eyes. She’d expected the typical tan sheriff’s uniform at least. Still, she could see he was no longer a big-city Austin cop. All he needed was a cowboy hat to complete the picture of a small-town lawman. Not a friendly one, though.

Even with the dim light she could tell his face was carved in stone. Her heart skipped a beat. What had he found out? Had he called the deputy? Even now, was the man who murdered Vince and tried to kill her on his way here? Guarding her ribs, she struggled to swing her legs over the bed’s edge.

Blake rushed over and pressed her back against the pillow. “Don’t even think about getting out of this bed. Not until I look at that wound.”

“Where’s Ethan? Is he safe?”

Blake placed a medical kit on the nightstand and flipped on a small bedside light. “Hunkered down with my crazy mutt glued to his side. First door on the right. They’re fine. I won’t say the same for you.”

“Did you tell your deputy about us?” she countered.

“Trying to sidestep the issue?” Blake opened the supplies. “You can thank your boy I didn’t ignore your request. I didn’t like his responses to my questions.” Blake sat on the bed next to her and unpacked bandages, hydrogen peroxide and antibiotic ointment. “That doesn’t mean I don’t want answers from you.”

“What did Ethan say?”

Blake’s jaw tightened with irritation. “Not much. His mother’s been shot and has passed out. He’s dependent on a man he’s never met.” He glared at her. “He’s scared.”

The stark statement shattered a piece of Amanda’s heart.

Blake dragged a chair next to the bed. “What’s going on?”

She studied him warily. She didn’t know what to say. Blake prided himself on being honest. A by-the-book kind of guy. She doubted he’d appreciate what she’d been forced to do over the last day.

Not that she regretted one action. To keep her son safe, Amanda would do anything.

Anything.

And her horrifying suspicions? The unspeakable theory she’d pieced together on that long drive from snippets of a few conversations and emails with Vince over the past few months. Should she tell Blake what she suspected about the death of his ex-wife and child? She had no proof. What if she was wrong? Why hurt him more? Better to remain silent.

Blake waited, then shook his head. “Fine. Don’t imagine I won’t figure it out.” He stood and opened the first aid box. “Unfasten your shirt and lay on your side,” he said, his voice gruff. “This is gonna hurt.”

No kidding. She unbuttoned the bottom half of the shirt and rolled to her right. He pushed the denim out of the way, his fingers gentle. Somehow, when she’d fantasized about him touching her bare skin, it had never involved a bullet wound. She stared at his lean hips and focused hard, trying to distract herself with inappropriately lascivious thoughts. Anything rather than cry and act like a wimp in front of him.

He unscrewed a bottle of antiseptic. She ventured a glance at him. He hadn’t changed much. He still wore his light brown hair short, although it was long enough to run her fingers through. His hazel eyes flickered in the light, and she could have sworn flecks of gold glittered as he glanced down at her. He was one of the sexiest men she’d ever met. And so wrong for her. His wife had just left him when she’d met him in Austin, so she’d ignored the flip-flop of her belly whenever he’d entered the room. Until that one Christmas Eve after his divorce finalized, that one amazing kiss. She had no business thinking about Blake in that way. She had to focus on her and Ethan’s safety, but just for the next few minutes, maybe…

She shivered as he bared more of her torso. He probed at the sensitive skin she couldn’t quite see. She sucked in a sharp breath. Okay, so much for the distraction-from-pain theory.

That hurt.

“When did you get shot?” he muttered.

The agonizingly long trip flashed through her mind. Town after town. Dairy Queen after Dairy Queen. Ethan being as patient as a five-year-old could, as if he understood she only had small reserves left. “I don’t know. Sixteen, eighteen hours. Forever. The storm slowed us to a crawl. Five miles an hour some stretches.”

“You should have stopped.”

He pressed against the fevered skin, and slowly, painfully worked the dried, blood-soaked scarf away from the wound. She winced at each tug, tears stinging her eyes. She wanted to scream. She held her breath until finally he pulled away the last of the material.

She sagged in relief.

“Luckily the bullet didn’t lodge inside. Bad news is the wound is inflamed. I’ve got ointment, Amanda, but you need a doctor. And antibiotics.”

“Doctors report gunshot wounds.”

“So do sheriffs.” He explored the area one last time, then sucked in a slow breath. “Brace yourself.”

The cold sting of peroxide hissed on her skin. She clutched at the sheets and bit down on her lip to keep from crying out. She didn’t know how close Ethan was. She couldn’t let him see her like this. He’d been through enough.

Blake quickly rubbed on antibiotic ointment, then covered the wound with a pad. “I need to secure the dressing. Sit up for me.”

He supported her back as she rose. When she was steady, he unfastened the remainder of the buttons on her shirt. Her cheeks burned. She hadn’t been able to wear a bra since it happened, and there was no getting around him touching her as he quickly wrapped the bandage around her torso.

Finally, he secured a last piece of tape. With jerky movements he rose from the bed and grabbed a large Dallas Cowboys sweatshirt from the drawer. “You can wear this. Your son doesn’t need to see all that blood.”

Hovering over her, Blake eased the soiled material off with the prowess of a cowboy who’d undressed his share of women. His touch lingered on her naked back before he choked out a cough and slipped on the clean, dry sweatshirt.

The awareness between them sizzled. She chanced a look over her shoulder. She’d never seen Blake more uncomfortable as he eased away from the bed. He planted himself in the center of the bedroom and crossed his arms, piercing her with a glare she welcomed. If he’d smiled or given her a soft, sexy grin, she might have done something stupid.

“Thank you.” She lifted her gaze and saw his cheeks flush before he turned on her.

“We’re not finished yet.” He stiffened his back. “I have some antibiotics in the barn. I’ll be right back.”

She heard the door open, and the harsh whistling of wind sounded from the other room before the oak slammed closed. He was going out into this monster storm. For her.

Who did that?

No one she knew, that’s for sure.

She rubbed her eyes. She had to think clearly. She was a fugitive, but Blake didn’t need to know that. She just had to keep her wits about her, get well and move on. Don’t let herself be taken in by a man who was like a hero out of a fairy tale. One step at a time, and she could put some miles between her and Blake. A lot of miles if she had her way.

She twisted, testing the bandage, trying once again to sit up.

“You’re gonna undo all my handiwork.”

Blake strode into the room, holding a prescription bottle and a glass of water. “The antibiotics were for the foal, but it’s better than nothing. Should be the right dose.”

“You want to feed me horse pills? Are you crazy?”

“You wanted my help. It’s this or a doctor. You’ve got a fever.”

She studied his face and could see he was deadly serious. Showing herself at any medical facility would put a target on her and Ethan. She had to stay under the radar for as long as she could. She wasn’t the criminal.

Well, not exactly. And certainly not voluntarily.

She snagged the pill and swallowed it with a grimace.

Blake studied her, his expression unwavering and speculative. “Just how much trouble are you in, Amanda? You take a horse pill to avoid the hospital, you drive eighteen hours in an ice storm after a bullet cut a furrow in your side. What are you doing here? Is your brother going to knock on my door next?”

So much for the fairy tale. She lifted her chin and swiped at her hair. “Vince is dead.”

The muscle of his jaw throbbed briefly. The only sign he cared at all.

“Aren’t you going to say anything? He was your best friend.”

“Best friend?” Blake crossed his arms, his expression grim. “Really? Is that what he was when he sold me out? When he didn’t show up for my son’s funeral?”

“He didn’t think you’d want him there.”

“He was right.”

Amanda rubbed her hands over her eyes to keep from looking into his perceptive gaze. He’d recognize the guilt, the secret knowledge. “There was never any proof Vince gave Internal Affairs evidence against you.”

“Only one person could’ve set me up to take the fall. Vince. You can lie to yourself, but don’t lie to me. I’ve had enough of that to last a lifetime.” Blake leaned over the bed, crowding her. She shrank back against the sheets.

“Don’t hurt my mommy!”

Ethan launched across the room, the dog racing after him. The boy grabbed Blake around the legs and started pounding at him. The sight of her usually gentle son taking all his anger and fear out on Blake savaged Amanda’s soul. Would he ever be the same after what he’d seen? She shoved off the bed as Blake stopped and calmly grasped Ethan’s arms.

“I don’t hurt people, son. I’m a policeman.”

Ethan wrenched away. “Policemen are bad. Police made Uncle Vince dead.”

Chapter Two

Cops killed Vince?

Blake dropped his hands, and Ethan dived into his mother’s arms. Amanda winced but hugged him close, murmuring words of comfort. Her wound had to be hurting like the devil, but she simply stroked Ethan’s head, rocking him to and fro. The only sign of pain was the tightness around her mouth and the color draining from her face. Incredible. The love that shone there twisted something inside Blake, touched some hidden place that needed to stay protected.

“It’s okay, little man,” she whispered. “I’ll keep us safe. I promise.”

She had more courage than Vince ever did. Blake had tried to convince his friend to work together to investigate and take down the dirty cops. Vince had done the opposite. He’d jumped in headfirst with the enemy, then helped set up Blake to take the fall for missing evidence and confiscated money from several drug busts.

Ethan’s sobs turned to hiccups. Blake’s jaw ached as he tried to contain his fury. Vince’s cowardice had dragged that innocent boy into God knows what.

Ethan, nestled against Amanda’s chest and clearly exhausted, fell asleep in only a few minutes. She kissed the top of his head and tried to stand. She trembled and swayed.

Blake wanted to punch his fist through the wall. He’d traumatized the boy even more. His stomach churned at the thought, acid hitting the back of his throat. He gulped down the guilt and reached out to steady her with a gentle touch. “I’ll take Ethan.”

Her hold tightened. She didn’t trust anyone else with him. He got that, but he also knew her legs quivered underneath her. She was near collapse. He stilled, waiting patiently, his arms open. Finally, as if her energy left her, she nodded. Blake lifted the sleeping boy. The actions, the familiar, precious weight of his little body poked at the empty ache inside of Blake. The boy snuggled closer, and Blake’s throat closed off at the swell of emotions. Ethan was vulnerable and trusting enough in sleep to let a stranger hold him. A child’s faith.

The dog at his heels, Blake carried Amanda’s son down the hall and tucked him beneath the covers. His gaze lingered on Ethan’s tear-stained cheeks. Blake knotted his hands into fists. No child deserved to face this kind of fear. He hated that Ethan feared law enforcement—the people he should trust.

Leo whined and Blake gave the dog a nod. The mutt jumped onto the bed and settled next to Ethan. The boy would be okay, but Blake needed answers from Amanda. She was keeping secrets. He couldn’t allow that. Ethan wasn’t going to feel unsafe. Not on Blake’s watch.

He stalked out of the room and grabbed the door, ready to slam it, then stopped himself. Softly, he eased it shut, strode through the doorway and closed him and Amanda into the guest bedroom. “No more games. Is what Ethan said true?”

“Why do you think I never went to a hospital? Vince was murdered. By a cop.”

“I figured that one out.”

As many times as Blake had cursed his former best friend for being a low-down, belly-crawling coward, he hadn’t wanted him dead. Nailed for bribery. Definitely. Confessing to the police area commander how Vince had framed Blake. Most assuredly.

But not dead.

Blake crossed his arms and ignored the fatigue and vulnerability in her eyes. He wouldn’t let himself get sucked in. He had to protect Ethan. “Who did it?”

“I don’t know.” Amanda shifted her focus toward the door. “I should go to him.”

Her gaze flickered left, and she twirled a strand of her curly hair. Vince had joked about the obvious tell. He’d warned Blake if he ever played poker with Amanda, twisting her hair was a sure sign of a bluff.

“Your brother lied to me every damn day the last six months I was in Austin. I’ve learned how to spot deceit, so don’t bother trying it.” Her pretty mouth opened slightly in surprise, and he let out a harsh laugh. “Yeah, I can see your wheels turning. I may be a small-town sheriff now, but I’ve still got big-city instincts.”

“I’m not lying.”

He eased toward her. “Fine. Keep your secrets. As soon as this storm ends, you can fight your own battles.” He paused. “Without Ethan in the middle of them. He’ll stay with me.”

“You have no right—”

“I do if I think your son’s in danger.” He leaned back against the dressing table. “Did you get in the middle of one of Vince’s dirty deals? Is that how you got shot?”

“Take that back.” She jumped to her feet, then doubled over with a whimper. Her knees buckled, and she sagged to the floor.

Blake cursed and reached for her. He’d have thought she was feigning pain to distract him except her face had turned a scary shade of gray. He didn’t want to hurt her. He wanted her to tell him the truth. To give him the information he needed to protect them both. No matter what trouble she’d gotten into, she didn’t deserve this. Neither did Ethan.

“Don’t touch me.” She scooted away from him.

“Shut up. You’re hurt, and you’ve lost a lot of blood. Get up too fast and you’ll keel over every time.”

He took one step, swept her into his arms and strode to the bed, pretending to ignore the blue-and-silver sweatshirt that slid down one shoulder and the bare skin of her legs against his arm. Gently, he laid her down and tucked a pillow behind her. He dragged a chair over and straddled it. “I can see you love Ethan, but you can’t protect him.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

She was silent. Blake met her gaze, his own steady and resolute. He could see her wavering and leaned forward. “You came here for a reason, Amanda. Let me help you.”

She rubbed her eyes with her hands and sighed in defeat. “Vince’s last words were to Ethan. He said to come to you.”

“That doesn’t make sense. We haven’t spoken since my father was killed and I left Austin. Why would he send you to me?”

“He always said you were the most honest cop he knew.”

“He had a hell of a way of showing it.” Blake stood and paced the bedroom floor.

“I didn’t see the point in coming here. Maybe I was right. You hate Vince, but…” She shifted and her mouth twitched in pain, but she didn’t complain, didn’t say a word. “I was shot. If anything happened to me—” Her voice choked.

“Ethan would be alone,” Blake finished. The fatigue, the fear, the pain had started to get to her. He could see it in her eyes. Blake sat on the side of the bed. “Then why won’t you let me help?”

She pressed her hand to her side. “I’m alive. Tomorrow we’ll leave, start a new life. It’s the only way to be certain we’re safe.”

The crackling of the police radio in the other room made her jump. She clasped his arm. “Please, don’t tell anyone we’re here. I’m begging you. I’ll do anything. Just don’t give us away.”

Blake removed her hand from his sweater. “Stay here,” he muttered. He walked out of the room and down the hall, torn between duty and justice. Hell of it was, he understood. He would’ve done whatever it took to save Joey. Even his ex-wife, Kathy. He’d been called into the station for yet another Internal Affairs interview the afternoon of the accident. Kathy had picked up Joey from preschool instead of Blake. Maybe if he’d been in the car, with his reflexes, his training, he could have avoided the accident. Or at least made sure Joey survived… If Blake could have saved them, he would’ve sacrificed himself.

Slow but determined footsteps followed him down the hall. Not surprising. Amanda wouldn’t leave anything to chance. Not when it came to her son. He got that.

He tried to ignore the fact she didn’t trust him. The truth chafed, but he didn’t trust her, either. She knew more than she was telling. He could feel it.

“Sheriff?” His deputy’s voice crackled through the living room. “Parris checking in.”

Blake picked up the microphone. “Donna make it home?”

“Kicking and screaming.” The older man chuckled. “Muttering about being on stand-by. She hasn’t changed since your dad and I caught her staying all night at the station during that tornado warning fifteen years ago.”

“Streets still clear? No one traveling in this mess?”

“Hank Stratton tried to make it to Charlie’s Bar, but he slid down the driveway and crawled home. I told his wife to steal his boots. Should keep him from wandering outside. Other than that, the whole town’s dead.”

Blake slid a sidelong glance at Amanda, his pause longer than usual. “Could you check on my mom?”

There was silence on the radio. “You want me to check on her? You okay, Blake?”

“Keep your radio with you in case of emergencies.”

“Are you serious? You’re staying in?”

“I’m not patrolling tonight.” Blake watched as Amanda teetered and swayed. She grabbed the table for support just as he wrapped his arm around her, careful to avoid her injury. Her slight frame leaned into him. He felt every curve pressing against him in a way he’d only imagined before now. His body tingled with awareness, his senses sharpened at her vulnerability. She needed him whether she knew it or not. “Keep me posted.”

“Hell has officially frozen over. Parris out.”

Blake set the radio down, and Amanda let out a relieved breath as he held her to his side, their closeness fanning the shimmering heat he couldn’t deny. He gave her a sharp look. “Surprised I didn’t have Parris run a check on you?”

“Frankly, yes.”

“I don’t lie, Amanda.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve been burned more than once.” She tried to straighten but winced, her left hand pressing against her bandage.

Amanda tugged away from him and planted her legs firmly. He could see she used every ounce of strength to stand and face him.

“Thank you for what you’ve done,” she said. “When morning comes, we’ll be out of your town and your life.” She slowly turned, and with careful steps, walked into her bedroom, emerging a few seconds later with a pillow and small throw. She disappeared into Ethan’s room without looking back.