Dangerous Refuge

chapter Fifty-three



Dawn came slowly, perfectly, to the old ranch house, filling the room with a golden blush of light. Still asleep, Shaye burrowed closer to Tanner. His arm tightened around her in silent reassurance. In the last eight days, they had held each other through nightmares and ecstasy, throttled screams and contented sighs. He watched her now, pleased by the shape and shadows of her in the soft light. With gentle fingertips he traced the curve of her eyebrows and lips and savored the warmth of her breath softly rushing over his skin.

He still needed physical touch to soothe him, to tell him that she was alive, safe, within reach. The cast on his wrist was a reminder of all he had almost lost.

She felt the same need for the reassurance of touch. Even asleep, she didn’t move beyond the heat and textures of his body.

Easing ever closer to her, he mentally began making a list of calls he would have to make. Brothers to hear the latest cop gossip. The union rep to hear how the negotiations were going. The lawyer to—

“I can hear you thinking,” she said in a voice husky with sleep.

“Just happy to be alive. With you.”

She smiled and caught his fingertip between her lips in a gentle kiss. “Same here. How’s your head?”

“Which one?”

Her laughter was another kind of sunlight, one that warmed him in places he hadn’t known were cold before she came into his life.

“The one with brains,” she said.

“That one is still asleep.”

Her hand moved beneath the covers.

His breath wedged in his throat.

“This one is awake,” she said.

“Really?” he asked.

Her fingers moved, measured, stroked.

He began to breathe again, more quickly.

“Really,” she said. “Wide-awake.” Her eyes opened, dark and mysterious, loving and teasing, radiant with the possibilities of dawn.

With a slow, easy movement he took her mouth, then all of her, giving himself to her at the same time. She gave and took with the generosity that was always new to him, better each time, deeper, hotter. They mingled breath and body, caressing, lifting, surging, until each was full . . . and then they overflowed into shimmering ecstasy.

Afterward they lay spent and at peace, listening to each other’s breathing in the silence.

The next time they woke up it was full daylight and Dingo was giving his warning bark.

“Who needs an alarm clock when we have that mutt?” Tanner said.

Shaye stretched and watched while he pulled on his jeans, shoes, and belt holster. She loved the lithe ease of his body, the power barely held in check, skin sliding over muscle and tendon with each movement. She loved his intelligence and humor and . . .

She loved him.

And he, well, he hadn’t said anything except that he was glad to be alive with her.

We’re consenting adults. What did I expect?

Sometimes being an adult sucked.

“Better get dressed, honey,” Tanner called from the living room. “It’s the deputy. I’ll plug in the coffee.”

“August?”

“His truck. Assume he’s driving.”

She quickly pulled on some clothes and went to stand next to Tanner on the porch. Together they watched as August’s truck raised dust on the road to Lorne’s house.

Dingo shot out from behind a nearby water trough and barked sharply, once.

“Easy, boy,” Tanner said. “I’ve got it.”

The dog gave a last woof, waved his tail, and trotted over on dainty feet to stand next to the two humans he’d adopted. The vet had been amazed at Dingo’s quick, complete recovery. When they brought him home, he had sniffed where Lorne had died, gone through the house like a tawny shadow, and never looked for Lorne again.

“I hope the deputy doesn’t have any more questions,” she said, flexing her sore leg. She had discovered that bullet burns were well named, but deep bruises took longer to heal.

“Cops always have more questions. Besides, he got your Bronco back for you.”

“And towed Lorne’s truck to the scrap yard,” she said.

“Sure as hell neither one of us was up to it.”

She inched closer to him, remembering.

He tightened his arm around her. He didn’t like the memories of that night any better than she did. But almost dying clarified what was important in life and what just seemed important at the time.

“Too bad I could only break Ace’s neck once,” Tanner said.

“He broke it in a fall, remember? Trying to find Kimberli.”

“Huh,” was all Tanner said.

Kimberli had run flat out into an open mine. It had taken three days to recover her body.

August slowed down well before he came to the yard, a simple courtesy to keep the dust to a minimum. He parked beside the Bronco and walked up to the porch.

“Morning, Nate,” Tanner said.

“Coffee’s cooking,” Shaye said.

“Morning,” August said. “You two look better each time I see you.”

“That wouldn’t be hard,” she said drily. “We were pretty scuffed up. Come on in.”

“This visit official?” Tanner asked as he followed the others into the house.

“Somewhat. The El Dorado sheriff called and said he received an anonymous tip that some stolen gold might be hidden in Rua’s fish tank.”

“Huh,” Tanner said.

“Yeah. I told him we had a report of missing gold coins in our county. It’ll take some time and paperwork, but you’ll get Lorne’s gold back.”

“I appreciate it.”

“It was pure bad luck that Lorne was in such a hurry to get Dingo to the vet that he left the hidey-hole open,” August said.

Tanner nodded. He and Shaye had pieced together Lorne’s last hours.

“We figured that Lorne must have just come back from the lawyer’s when Rua drove up,” she said. “Lorne probably had been up all night, too mad to sleep. Never even changed his clothes. Then he found Dingo, grabbed a gold coin to pay the vet, and raced out.”

August nodded. “Fits. He must have just come back from town when he heard Rua’s motorcycle and ran outside to see who dared to trespass on his land. Didn’t even take time to put on his hat.”

“Did you ever find proof that Ace was Rua’s fight sponsor?” she asked.

“Not court proof, but it doesn’t have to be. Ace owned McCurdy’s 8. That’s enough of a connection for me.”

Tanner waited, knowing that August hadn’t driven out in the early morning to chew over the probable sequence of events the morning Lorne died.

“Any idea on the anonymous caller’s identity?” August asked. “The one who jacked up the El Dorado sheriff so that he’d search Rua’s home and find the coins and the throwaway cell phone with all the numbers on it?”

“Why would I?” Tanner asked, covering a yawn. “It’s not my case.”

“That’s what I told the El Dorado sheriff.”

Shaye looked at her shoes like she expected them to break into song.

“I talked to the judge this morning,” August continued. “Sorry to tell you, Shaye, but Lorne’s property goes to Tanner.” He looked at him. “Your lawyer will be calling you later.”

She glanced away from her shoes and said, “I’ve been expecting it. The Conservancy will be disappointed, but it was our mistake with the contract. We accept that.”

“Congratulations on your promotion,” August added. “I hear that you’ll be running things for the Conservancy now that Kimberli is dead. The ranchers are real happy about that. They like you.”

“It’s just temporary, until they can hire a fund-raiser.”

“Not what I heard,” August said. He looked at Tanner. “You going back to L.A.?”

“I left a lot of loose ends there,” Tanner said. “Some of them have to be handled in person.”

“And you’re the type who likes to tie everything up right and tight,” the deputy said. “You’ll be getting an official pat on the back from the Refuge County sheriff added into your files.”

Shaye hoped nothing showed in her expression. She’d always known Tanner was going back. She just hadn’t wanted to think about it.

“Coffee inside,” she said hoarsely, turning away.

By the time the men came into the kitchen, she had worked the knot out of her throat. The one in her stomach would have to wait. The one in her heart . . . well, she’d just have to learn to live with it.

At least she was alive.

When Tanner started for the coffeepot, she beat him to it.

“You still have coffee stains on your cast from the last time you tried to pour left-handed.”

“I’m a lot better shot left-handed than I was.”

She didn’t argue. Both of them had spent a lot of time firing at targets he’d made. Neither one of them ever wanted to take a chance on missing again.

Tanner waited until she sat down before turning to August. “What’s up?”

“Can’t a man just have coffee with friends?” the deputy asked, deadpan.

“Long way to drive for coffee.”

The deputy smiled. “The judge and I decided that part of what we know shouldn’t be put in writing.”

“How does your sheriff feel about that?”

“Didn’t you hear?” August said blandly. “His doctor discovered a problem with his heart. The sheriff will be resigning, effective today.”

“He deserves worse,” Tanner said, his voice as flat as his cop’s eyes.

“We can’t prove it. Same with the others. No law against doing business together on cheap cell phones.”

“What about Rua?” she asked.

“So he bought a throwaway cell phone and had the number of his old boss and his new one on it. And Ace’s, who was probably his sponsor at McCurdy’s 8. So what?”

“What about Hill?” Tanner asked, to save her the trouble.

“He’s a politician. He talks to hundreds of people all the time. Just like Campbell and Hill and Kimberli and Ace did. Real shame about their deaths, too. Loss to the community, and—”

“Blah blah blah,” Shaye cut in.

“Easier for everyone that way, most especially your lover,” August pointed out mildly. “Hard to keep a woman satisfied when you’re behind bars.”

“But Campbell—” she began.

“Leave it be,” August said. “Campbell knows if he so much as farts in public, I’ll be all over him like greed on a miser.”

“I doubt if he really knew what was going on anyway,” Tanner said, shrugging. “Ace wouldn’t have told him anything. Hill, either. You ever know a politician who could keep a secret? As for the sheriff, he’s not the first official to back the people who support his campaign.”

August nodded. “It’s a shame that Kimberli got so excited about seeing real, live mustangs that she followed them and lost track of time and geography. And it was real brave of Shaye and Ace to try to find her in the dark with abandoned mines everywhere. Lucky you didn’t get lost or break your neck, too, like Ace did. As for Tanner, he wrecked trying to avoid you when you waved him down to help.”

Shaye opened her mouth, then shut it again. Some things you simply agreed with. Less complicated that way.

“Yes, we were lucky,” she said, her mouth dry.

“Keep it in mind,” the deputy said. “Sometimes the easy explanation actually is the just one.”

“Sleeping dogs and all that,” she said.

“Not to mention that the Conservancy comes out looking good,” Tanner said. “As you told me, you have to live here. And the Conservancy checks out as one hundred percent honest.”

“Kimberli was the bad apple,” August agreed.

“I’m glad,” Shaye said simply.

“If Shaye and I don’t have any kids,” Tanner said, “the Conservancy will get the land.”

August looked from one to the other. “Kids, huh? Congratulations.”

She felt like saying the same thing: Huh?

Tanner gave her a slow smile. “A man can hope.”

Her smile was slow and wondering. “So can a woman. But . . . I thought you were going back to L.A.?”

“Only as long as it takes me to sign papers, pay bills, and pack.” He gave the deputy a hard look. “Isn’t it time for you to get back to the office or on patrol or—”

August ignored him. “I also hear that Tanner’s retiring early, and your captain said that you were an outstanding cop and he was sorry to lose you, but with all your hard work and being hurt and all, he agreed with the union that you should get ninety-three-point-four percent of your retirement pay, plus the rest of your vacation time.”

“The captain is a prince,” Tanner said.

It was Shaye’s turn to snicker.

“Yeah, I’ll just bet he is,” August said. “We’re taking applications for an opening in the department. With your years of experience as a cop in L.A., you would be hired before the ink was dry on the form.”

“Have you been talking to a man called Brothers?” Tanner asked.

“He said to tell you to invite him to the wedding.”

“I told him I had to catch her first.”

“From here, doesn’t look like she’s running too hard.”

Shaye cleared her throat. “She hears quite well.”

“Go away, August,” Tanner said. “I need to close the deal.”

“I was going to give you some pointers on that.”

“Trust me,” she said, “he, um, points just fine.”

The deputy laughed, finished his coffee, and left them in peace.

“So you like the way I point,” Tanner said.

“You have outstanding form. Function, too.”

“You willing to marry a retired cop who can guarantee long hours and short wages as a deputy and rancher?”

“Are you the cop?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’m willing,” she said.

“Even if it means living on a rural ranch?”

She traced the edges of his mouth with her fingertips. “Especially then.”

Tanner’s smile made Shaye’s breath stop.

“Let’s go back to bed,” he said. “I’ve got a pointer for you.”

“Just one?”

“If it’s good, it only takes one.”