The Officer And The Renegade

“I thought of a heap of things, Taylor Grace, and I made a judgment call.” Her father stood before her proud and unapologetic. “You understand the necessity of those well enough.”

Unfortunately she did. And, as a result of one she’d made long ago, Hugh had gone to prison. Because of another she had moved to Detroit. Yet another had brought her back here.

Her father must have seen the crack in her defenses. With a sad smile, he inched closer, this time easing his arm around her shoulders. “Don’t tell me there isn’t a small part of you that wants to see him again?”

“I’ve often wondered what it would be like to stand on the moon and look back at the earth, too, but you don’t see me climbing into a metal canister and letting someone light a few million gallons of fuel under me.”

“You’re worrying about the bottom line, aren’t you? You’re thinking that you were never certain yourself whether he was guilty or not, and how that didn’t change what you felt for him. Maybe now you’ll get your answer.”

“Curiosity is not an adequate motivator for something like this.”

“Bull. So why’d you try to contact him after he was sent to the penitentiary. Sheriff Trammell told me that Hugh’s attorney said you even wrote from Detroit.”

“Well, if he told you that, then he also must have told you that my letters were returned unopened. I think that was a fairly clear message to assume the worst.”

Her father sighed. “Okay, then. Let him take one look at you and maybe it’ll convince him and his mother to sell the business and move on, the way Murdock and his friends in the chamber of commerce have been trying to coax her to do all along. Shoot, Jane’s barely getting by. Except for Mel Denver and a handful of referrals from him, most of her business is from the reservation folks. Maybe that’s been enough for her, but I can’t see how the two of them will manage.”

Taylor suspected he was right, but that only made her feel worse. She had to ask the question she’d only asked him once before. “Do you think he killed Piers Marsden, Dad?”

He took his time answering. “Hon, he was angry enough to. And if someone had done to you what Piers did to Noel, I could see myself that angry. What’s more, a number of people considered Piers’s death a personal favor. Remember all those rumors about what a creep he was?”

“That’s not what I asked.” Taylor was no more happy to hear these evasions than she wanted to feel the familiar, dull pain in her chest. She’d believed, hoped, that she’d gotten over Hugh. “Do you think he killed Murdock’s son?”

Her father bowed his head, a strand of graying hair slipping low over his forehead. “Yeah, Gracie, I’m afraid I do.”

So did she, and that was the tragedy of it. It didn’t matter that, like her father, she’d understood the anger that would have compelled him to do it. There had been a moment when she’d first learned what Piers had done to Hugh’s sister, after she’d witnessed the poor girl’s trauma in the hospital, that she had wanted to hurt the bastard herself. The difference was, she had too much respect for the law.

“See, another reason I have to get this resolved,” her father continued, “is because people are saying that once word gets around that he’s out, the whole place will become a ghost town...especially after sundown.”

“That’s ridiculous. Hugh loved this town and most of the people who lived here. He’s not at risk of being a repeat offender.” Unless he saw her again.

“I’m merely repeating the consensus of opinion.” Her father gave her a sidelong look. “Well? Can you handle this for me?”

The sympathy in his voice decided her. She snatched his straw cowboy hat off his in-box and slammed it on her head. “I took the oath, didn’t I? What choice do I have?”

“Atta girl. Now make sure you tell him that I’m not asking for him to get lost overnight. All we need is some assurance that he will leave. Soon.”

Taylor handed over her keys and picked up his from his desk blotter. “When I get to the house, I’d better find you stretched out on the couch with that leg up, and holding a cold beer.”

“Can’t have any. Doc’s got me on damned pain pills,” her father replied as she reached for the doorknob.

“Not for you. For me.”

By the time Taylor made a right onto Main Street, her stomach was churning and cramping. If it wasn’t for Kyle, she knew she could easily have made a U-turn and directed the old Chevy for the interstate, she felt that much the coward.

Hugh. Heaven help her. Until minutes ago, she’d believed she would never see him again; she had buried the dreams she’d once cherished for their future. The news that he had gained his freedom should have sent her shouting with joy and relief...only, thanks to her father’s explanation, there was nothing to celebrate, and everything to dread.

Somehow she had to keep her wits about her, do what she’d been hired to do. The past couldn’t be allowed to matter. Nothing else could matter.

It was barely a mile drive to Blackstone Feed and Supplies. A left turn at Crooked Pine Road and she saw the metal building. The plywood doors of the warehouse were wide open, and as she pulled into the dirt-and-gravel parking lot she saw a silhouette of someone moving around in there. She drew in a deep breath to ease the growing discomfort in her stomach, killed the truck’s engine and climbed out.

He was restacking fifty-pound sacks of range cubes. A quick glance to her left and right to make sure no one else was around told her that her father had been correct; this was a modest operation. There wasn’t so much as a forklift to help with the lifting and hauling, nor was there that much inventory. However, as she got closer, she could see powerful muscles flexing and stretching across Hugh’s bronzed back, and realized that he wouldn’t have needed any help if the business had been larger. But then, he’d always been capable.

She didn’t like that her mouth went dry again. After fourteen years, she expected more from herself, regardless of their history. On the other hand, theirs was some history.

She had been the one for him, the only one who ever knew the feel of that strong, magnificent body against hers, and those callused yet gentle hands exploring and claiming. From the day they’d met as kids, back when their relationship had been about kinship and understanding, through the sweet, sweet years of discovering love, then passion...all the way to the moment the court bailiffs escorted him away, there had never been anyone else for either of them. That was a huge stack of memories for a woman to repress, even a woman with a profession like hers.

When she’d pulled up, he had glanced over his shoulder and recognized the truck, but he finished stacking the last two sacks before he faced her. Only now did she realize he’d been expecting her father. It was there in the way he suddenly froze. Because of where she was standing, she supposed she was little more than a silhouette against the blinding New Mexico sun. But apparently there was nothing wrong with his memory.

Finally, slowly, he began to walk toward her.

“How the hell did he get you to come back?”

She thought of potential replies. Since they would all require a strength and control she didn’t possess quite yet, she simply said, “It’s good to see you, Hugh.”

He stepped closer, so close she could smell salt, heat and man. Suddenly it all came back—the way he kissed, the care he took undressing her, how it felt to hold him deep, deep inside her. The memories struck like one tidal wave after another, until she wanted to slump to the concrete floor and weep for dreams and innocence lost. But somehow she remained upright, and met his furious scowl.

He glared at her badge and read her T-shirt. Sort of. Mostly his gaze raked up and down her, and she concluded years of incarceration had changed his tastes. No doubt he now thought her about as appealing as a telephone pole. It was only a guess, though; his sharp black eyes gave nothing away.

He finally settled his focus on her gun. “Is that supposed to be some kind of joke?”

“No. I just haven’t had time to change into my uniform yet.”

“So that’s why you’re here. Funny how social calls mean different things these days.”

“Please, Hugh.” She saw no point in hiding the weariness in her voice. “I didn’t know you were here until fifteen minutes ago. I’ve only been back in town for about twenty myself.”

She hoped he could find it within himself to ignore the badge and gun, as she wanted to. If only she could reach him on the level she once did. As once no one else could. How furious she was with her father for taking advantage of their past.

“This is no place for you.” Bitterness and defeat chilled his words. “It’s not going to be a pretty homecoming.”

“Yes, well...I don’t know about pretty, but one thing it isn’t going to be is violent.”

“You think that badge and gun will stop the inevitable?”

He was starting to sound as though he was heading for the gunfight at the O.K. Corral or something. She needed to try another approach. “Regardless of what you think, Hugh...I’m glad you’re out.”

“Then you’re one of the few.”

“That’s not what I heard.”

“Isn’t it?”

His piercing, unrelenting gaze threatened to turn her into a coward. She suspected a scorpion sting would feel friendlier. On the other hand, he had a legitimate reason for the attitude. “We need to talk.”

Once again he considered her badge and the gun. “While you’re wearing that stuff? I don’t think so.”

“I’m willing to put the gun and badge in the car if that will help.”

Something primitive flashed in his eyes. “You can take off anything you want.”

“Is talk like that necessary? We were friends once.”

“Friends don’t send friends to jail.”

“I didn’t send you to jail. A judge and jury did.”

“But you told your father where to find me.”

“To save your life! To keep Murdock Marsden from ordering someone to hunt you down like an animal and kill you in cold blood. I won’t apologize for that.”

He didn’t respond, at least not with words. He did, however, close the few yards remaining between them. The lazy, almost insolent stride gave her ample time to confirm that he hadn’t wasted his time in prison, but had made full use of the gym. Beneath the black mat of chest hair, there wasn’t an ounce of spare flesh on him. Every inch of exposed skin was glistening, toned muscle. He’d been something to look at as a young man of twenty-two. Now at thirty-six, without a strand of gray in his black hair, she had no words to describe him, beyond breathtaking. But, dear Lord, his face... The hardness and bitterness in those sharp, sculpted features were too much to endure. In his eyes she saw a man who’d suffered every day of the fourteen years taken from him. This was a man whose entire aura vibrated outrage.

It took all of her courage to stand her ground, and she couldn’t deny a brief impulse to place her hand on her revolver. Making matters worse, when he stopped a spare foot away from her, she had to tilt back her head thanks to her father’s dratted hat blocking her view.

“When’d you cut your hair?”

The question came as a surprise, but it was better than others he could have asked. “When I entered the Detroit police academy.”

It shouldn’t have been possible, but his expression grew more grim; nevertheless, once again he took his time with this closer inspection. He lingered longest on her mouth. Once he’d told her that she had a heartbreaker smile and that her kisses alone could make him come. Older and wiser now, she knew men said things like that to women all the time to get them into bed. But Hugh hadn’t. She’d been the one doing the begging—for what had seemed like forever. He had turned her down each and every time because she’d been only seventeen then. Turned her down, although he’d said himself that there would never be anyone else for either of them.

He’d wanted to wait, and had shown the discipline to do so.

Until her eighteenth birthday.

Taylor almost sighed with relief when he again lowered his gaze to her badge.

“If you’re a Detroit cop, what are you doing wearing that one?”

“I quit.”

“Why?”

“Personal reasons.”

“Must have been a whopper to throw away what could have been a nice pension.” He slowly reached out and fingered the shiny metal. “This won’t bring you anything near that.”

It was unbearable to think of how close his fingers were to her breast. Could he see her nipple hardening? “Sometimes money can’t be allowed to matter.”

Hugh let his hand fall to his side. “I heard that your old man hurt his leg. Is he all right?”

“He will be in six weeks or so.”

“What happened to Sandoval?”

“The town got fed up with his bullying ways. My father had to let him go.”

“And no one else wanted the job?”

“I’m the most experienced.”

That had him lifting one straight eyebrow. “How much do you have?”

“Too much.”

As expected, that had him searching her face again, this time focusing on her eyes. For a small eternity he just looked, and she knew he was reading and gauging, but she wasn’t quite the open book she used to be. She did, however, let him see her regret...and that she refused to be intimidated by him. Neither emotion seemed to impress him.

“Qualified or not, you shouldn’t have come back,” he said at last.

Taking hope in the quieter note she’d picked up in his voice, she allowed herself to continue with what she’d come to say. “You shouldn’t have, either. People are nervous, Hugh.”

“Afraid the half-breed may go on a bloodthirsty rampage?”

She hated hearing him talk that way. Except for snobs like the Marsdens, no one around here had ever said anything derogatory regarding his heritage. Even now, she’d been given no hint that people’s concern was ethnically motivated.

“Let’s just say you have friends here who are concerned that you might have some form of revenge on your mind.”

“Now what right does a guilty man have to think of revenge?”

She wasn’t going to fall into that trap. But he wasn’t going to like what she had to say next any better. “My father—The chief says he wants assurance from you that you plan to leave before anything happens that we’ll all regret.”

“Tell him not to hold his breath.”

“No one wants any trouble, Hugh.”

“Right. That’s why you came to see me wearing a gun.”

“It comes with the badge, you know that.”

“Go away, Taylor. Get off my mother’s property and get out of this sorry excuse for a town. It’s not the place you remember. Maybe we were kidding ourselves to ever think it was better.”

“I wish I could leave, but it’s too late. I already gave my word that I’d stay.”

He twisted his compressed lips into a smirk. “You gave me your word once. We found out fairly quickly what that was worth.”

Had she thought him hardened? He was ruthless.

So be it. Let him understand that I’ve changed, too.

“Congratulations,” she snapped. “Now you’ve proven that you can sound like a bastard. But the message stands. There’s to be no trouble. Understood?”

“Oh, I understand, all right.” Without warning, he took hold of her belt and jerked hard, slamming her pelvis against his. “You try understanding this. If you ever come near me again wearing that gun, you’d better plan on using it!”

Two

“Hugh!”

At the sound of the reproving female voice, Hugh released Taylor and slowly backed a step, then another, away from her. Only at that point did he feel it safe to face his mother. Only then did he begin to trust his emotions again.

As expected, his mother strode quickly across the warehouse’s concrete floor, and with each step her worn cowboy boots sounded a staccato beat in the already throbbing silence. She had changed a good deal since they’d locked him away, and the greatest difference was that, like him, she rarely smiled these days—not that there was anything to smile about at the moment. Boots, jeans and a man’s plaid western shirt remained her uniform, and as usual she wore an apron with huge pockets. At the store it was always denim, at home she switched to cotton. None of that had changed since she’d started the business. As for the no-nonsense German bun, it was still a standard, too. More gray than sable now, but it hadn’t thinned much that he could see.

When she drew closer, he spotted the pinched quality of her features, noted that her eyes were shadowed with concern and disapproval, the once-warm hazel irises shooting off metallic sparks. That hardened her handsome face even more, a face already marred by sun and stress-etched fine lines. Since Taylor was responsible for some of Jane Thurman Blackstone’s biggest disappointments and heartache, it was only natural that there should be no sign of her gracious businesslike demeanor.

“It’s all right, Mother. I’m not going to do anything foolish that will get me sent back to prison.”

Even so, she stopped a few feet from them and crossed her strong, tanned arms. “Exactly what do you think you’re doing?” she demanded of Taylor. “You’re not welcome here.”

“I’m aware of that, Mrs. Blackstone,” Taylor murmured with a nod that might have done double duty as a greeting. “But I have a job to do. Perhaps you heard about Chief Benning falling while doing some repairs on the roof of our house?”

His mother’s expression indicated that Taylor’s question matched her fashion sense. “This is Redoubt. Everyone hears everything.”

“Then you know he hasn’t yet replaced Lew Sandoval. As a result, I’ve agreed to take the job. I—” Taylor gestured to her clothes “—apologize for the attire. But I only just arrived.” She added more gently, “How’ve you been?”

“How do you think I’ve been? My son isn’t home twenty-four hours and already you’re here. You’re worse than a bad penny and rotten apple combined!”

“That will be enough, Mother.” Hugh may not have done such a good job of it so far, but he wanted to handle Taylor himself.

Ignoring his quiet command, she lifted an already stubborn chin and scoffed at Taylor. “What qualifies you to wear a gun?”

Taylor lifted her chin, as well. “Nine years with the Detroit P.D.”

“It seems,” Hugh added before his mother could respond, “that she wants me to leave by sundown. Apparently my presence is making the citizenry nervous.”

That had her fisting her hands and setting them on the hips that had carried two healthy children full-term. “How dare you! All of you! The law can’t or won’t do what it’s supposed to do, so you bully my son? Well, it’s not going to happen. He’s paid enough, and then some. And for what? A crime he wasn’t guilty of! Have you no shame?”

“More than you can imagine,” Taylor replied, almost too softly to hear. “But I also have my orders. Believe me, I’m very sorry—”

“We don’t want your regrets!” Despite standing a good two inches shorter, his mother shook a fist at her. “You had your chance, but you betrayed Hugh, betrayed all of us. Go away and leave us alone!”

For a moment Taylor looked as if she would ignore the command, try to reason with his mother. But suddenly something inside her deflated and those unforgettable blue eyes shifted to him. “I’ve said what I was asked to say. The rest is up to you. Be careful, Hugh.”

As far as threats went, hers had been all but wrapped in cotton. If she’d been like that in Detroit, small wonder she hadn’t lasted. But as he watched her walk away, Hugh had difficulty holding on to his sarcasm. Strange...the last time she’d walked away from him, the emotions that had churned and stabbed at his insides were clear and acute—disbelief, pain and an anger that had left him impotent and all but frozen for a long, long time. He wished his current feelings could be as easily defined.

Prison had indeed changed him, hardened and embittered him. If necessary, he could stand before this entire town and tell them all to go to hell. At least that’s what he’d believed before Taylor had driven up here. But now...

Hell, it wouldn’t take a magnifying glass to spot the chink in your armor, pal.

If only time hadn’t been so kind to her. He’d always thought her a natural woman, someone not unlike his mother who had a no-nonsense approach to her gender, but Taylor was more feminine nonetheless. That’s why it had been such a shock to learn she was a cop. Shapeless T-shirt and ancient jeans aside, she remained one of the sexiest women he’d ever known, her fine-boned, slim body always moving with an easy grace he knew she didn’t recognize let alone appreciate. Lady Blue, Wind Woman, he’d dubbed her when as kids they’d ridden over the hills and prairies. He had only to close his eyes to remember her incredible hair back then, how it would fly behind her like a golden eagle’s wing. How could she have cut it off? He didn’t want to acknowledge that the shorter style accented the angles and contours of her face, and added a youthfulness and vulnerability that was echoed by her sensitive mouth.

Damn. He had to forget that mouth.

“Can they do it?”

He welcomed his mother’s intrusion into his thoughts. “Anybody can do anything if they’re determined enough.”

“Then what are we going to do?”

“Ignore them for as long as we can. Take one day at a time.” It was a lesson he’d learned white caged. Consequently, he doubted few people out here could match his patience. In prison there had been little else to do but wait...and try to survive. “Don’t dwell,” he said as much for his own benefit as for his mother’s. “You knew my coming back wouldn’t be easy.”

“Knew, yes. But a mother can still hope.” She glanced at the departing Blazer. “It wasn’t fair of Emmett to send her. That cunning coyote never did play fair.”

She hadn’t always spoken with such resentment toward the Bennings. Once she’d treated Taylor, who’d been motherless for most of her childhood, as tenderly as she had Noel. Then Piers Marsden raped his little sister. Everything changed after that.

Fourteen years. Noel was thirty-one now, and although still single, she was finding some peace living in Arizona where she worked for a private foundation that helped women in trouble. Several times over the years she had tried to convince their mother to join her out there. So far she hadn’t succeeded.

“Would it be so bad to move?” he asked, curious to see if his mother had reconsidered.

“Your father was born here. He’s buried here. This is my home.”

His father had been Laughing Max Blackstone, half Jicarillo Apache and half Navajo, a strong, kind man who had been the center of Hugh’s life. A state road department supervisor, he had been killed at a job site when an eighteen-wheeler lost its brakes and had gone out of control. Hugh had been twelve, Noel seven. Their mother had just opened the feed store only weeks before, and suddenly what had begun as a comfortable life became a challenging one as they all worked together to make ends meet. There had been some insurance money, but their mother had tried to keep those funds for his and Noel’s education. He’d made her use his share for other things because he hadn’t been in a hurry to go off to college, not when she’d become so dependent on his help. There had also been Taylor...

Words couldn’t explain the way it had been between the two of them. Kindred spirits seemed a flowery, empty expression, and yet from their childhood they’d shared a strong connection, an understanding. By the time he was graduating from high school, friendship and adoration had grown into an unbelievable passion, and the mere thought of being away from her—even if only until weekends— had been unacceptable. He’d been willing to wait until she started college and his mother’s business was solid to where extra help could be hired. But then Piers Marsden entered their lives and sent everything and everyone into a tailspin.

“That settles things, then,” he said, turning back to the feed sacks. “You’re too stubborn to leave, and I have nowhere to go. Guess we’ll hang around and see what happens.”