Deanna planted her feet wider. She inhaled slow, deep breaths through her nose in a vain effort to calm her racing pulse. She moved her aim down to center mass and caressed the trigger. Could she pull it if she had to this time? There couldn’t be any hesitation. She couldn’t make the same mistake twice.
But this was Blake. Someone she knew. Someone she had thought was her friend. Someone she had trusted for so long. She imagined the bullet propelling through the air. She saw it dropping him and imagined the blood. The tip of her gun shook. She struggled to steady it.
Would Blake hesitate to shoot her? She reversed the scene in her mind and saw a bullet hitting her. She searched his eyes for the answer but saw nothing she could read. How could he want to kill her now when only last night, he had claimed to love her? Did he still?
“Looks like we’re at an impasse,” Blake said.
His voice was caramel smooth. She detected no surprise, no fear, not even anger in it. His face was calm, his body completely at ease. Was that amusement in his blue eyes?
Blood rushed to Deanna’s face, and an angry rhythm pulsed against her temple. Blake hadn’t lost an ounce of control. She didn’t scare him a bit. He was as cool and confident as ever, even with her quivering gun pointing at his chest like an accusing finger.
“It’s you,” she whispered. “The guns, the drugs. All you.”
“Not all me,” he said. He looked around the room. “This was not me.”
She lifted her right shoulder and quickly wiped away the sweat rolling into her eye.
“I should have guessed it had to be you,” she said. She was going to be sick. “I didn’t want to believe you were capable of it.”
He cocked his head and put on an exaggerated look of confusion. “Capable of what exactly? Business? That’s what I do best. You know that.”
She shook her head rapidly. “Don’t try to justify this,” she said.
Blake moved toward her. She almost tripped over couch pillows behind her as she backpedaled away from him.
“I don’t need to justify it, because I can rationalize it,” Blake said, coming even closer. “You could, too, if you’d stop looking through your emotion. You’re a businesswoman. You understand supply and demand. People will buy drugs and guns whether I provide them or not. Why shouldn’t I profit from it?”
“It’s illegal!” she protested, her voice shrill. She backed up more.
He swatted away her words as if they were annoying gnats. “Alcohol was illegal during Prohibition, too. Now it’s not. These laws are all built on perceived morality and they come and go on the whims of men. I make my own decisions, and then I live with my own conscience.”
“Conscience,” she snorted. “You sure you have one of those?” The reality of the situation dawned.
“You tried to have me killed, Blake,” she whispered.
“No,” he insisted. “That order did not come from me. Neither did this mess, or whatever happened at The Hangar. They didn’t know how much you meant to me, or they wouldn’t have dared.”
They kept their guns trained on each other’s hearts, their unblinking eyes locked as they circled each other in a strange slow dance.
“Yeah, I can see how much you care,” Deanna muttered.
Blake quickly closed the gap between them, backing her against the wall. “Can you even see your own hypocrisy?” he hissed, his breath warming her cheek. “Or have you already forgotten how much you have benefited from my success?”
The truth slammed against her. Every little favor from him. Every little act of generosity over the years. It had all been a trap. Making her owe him more and more until she was so far in his debt she couldn’t make it without him. She would have washed up a long time ago if it hadn’t been for Blake. Now he was collecting on that debt.
His voice softened again as he added, “Can’t you see how much you can still benefit from it?”
The life of luxury and prestige spread out before her like a banquet. No more struggle. No more worry about Gram. A real home instead of this trailer. No more fighting to keep her head above water. Horses...an arena.
She felt the solid wall behind her. No escape. Her elbows were bent, the tip of her gun pushed against his chest, and still he was closing in on her. He rested his forearm against the wall above her head and his cologne’s heady scent filled her nostrils again, making her dizzy.
“I can’t be bought.”
“That’s funny.” Blake chuckled low and deep. “I thought I’d done that already.”
Shoot him! Her hands were trembling, and she couldn’t stop them. She stood straighter, grasping for some sense of control.
“Back up, Blake!” she screamed, shoving at him with the tip of her gun. “Give me some space or I will pull this trigger.”
Blake lifted his hands in surrender and gave her a little space. “See. This right here.” He gestured loosely at her with his gun. “If I could only make you see our potential together. My business sense combined with your passion?” He shook his head and said in a breathless voice, “You are so beautiful, Deanna, but I don’t want a trophy. I want a partner. Together we could be unstoppable.”
She heard a fist pound against the front door, and Sean’s muffled voice called from outside. “Deanna?”
He pounded again and again. “Deanna, open up!”
A dark mask descended over Blake’s expression. He snarled at her. “Everyone has a price, Deanna,” he said through gritted teeth.
“I don’t.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Really? There’s nothing I could promise you to convince you to put down that gun? Nothing at all.”
She steadied her aim and leaned harder into it, determined. She shook her head no. She would not be a kept woman.
“If you won’t let me give you something, I guess I’ll have to take something away instead.”
The pounding on the door continued as Blake pulled a two-way radio off his belt and spoke into it. “You here yet?”
“Here,” a crackly voice responded.
Deanna’s pulse accelerated. She recognized Greg Martin’s voice. Fear scampered up her spine. “What are you doing?” she asked. Did she want the answer?
Blake’s mouth curved into a small smile as he pushed the button on the radio.
“You got Loomis in sight?” Blake asked.
Deanna gasped. “No!” This couldn’t be happening. She wouldn’t be responsible for it.
“Easy shot,” Greg’s voice answered.
Blake’s gaze connected with hers in question.
“Don’t do it,” she begged. She didn’t even try to hold back the tears. They rolled down her face and into her mouth, salty on her tongue.
“Hold for my order,” Blake said.
“Copy that.” Greg sounded eager for that order to come. “Just say the word. I got him.”
More pounding. The doorknob wiggled, but Blake must have locked it when they came in.
“Deanna, I need to know you’re okay,” Sean called.
She closed her eyes. Sweet, chivalrous Sean. What would he do for her if their places were reversed?
“So you do have a price,” Blake said with a sad smile.
She leaned her head against the wall and let depression’s dark veil envelop her. Everything was too heavy, including the gun. She dropped it to her side.
“I go with you, Sean lives?” she asked. Even she could hear the brokenness in her voice. Blake had to know he’d won.
Blake holstered his gun and took hers away from her. “He’ll get a head start,” he said. “That’s all I can promise.”
“That’s not the deal I’m making,” Deanna said. “I go with you, Sean lives.”
Blake patted his pocket. “Well, you aren’t in any position to negotiate at the moment, are you?”
He held his hand out to her and raised an eyebrow. “Ready to play the happy couple, sweetheart?”
* * *
Sean paced. Should he kick in the door?
If Deanna didn’t show her face soon, he would do it. He scrubbed his face with both hands. She’d said five minutes. Where was she? Had he waited too long already?
He lifted his hand to knock one last time, but before he could strike it, the door swung open to Deanna’s smiling face. Behind her, books littered the floor, the coffee table was overturned and pictures had been torn from the wall. His muscles tensed and he was ready to fight, yet she was grinning at him as if he were a guest arriving for a dinner party. His fist hovered in midair as his brain grappled with the conflicting information in front of him.
“Sorry I kept you waiting,” she said, her tone’s sweetness jarring, out of place against the backdrop of destruction behind her. Why was she acting so weird?
Sean lowered his arm slowly. “Everything okay in here?”
His hackles rose as Blake Ransford filled the space behind her. Sean’s fingers curled into a fist. He wanted to knock the condescension off that pompous face.
Blake stretched around Deanna, offering his hand to shake. “Sean, glad to see you in one piece.”
Sean obeyed mechanically. He wasn’t sure he could say the same thing in return, so he kept his mouth shut. Blake straightened and draped his arm casually across Deanna’s shoulders, staking his claim. She didn’t wriggle out from under it, didn’t show any discomfort at being claimed.
Sean felt like someone had reached inside his body and was wringing out his kidney. The tension released and his arms hung at his side. He was such a fool! It didn’t take a genius to guess what was coming next.
Deanna’s face flushed crimson. “Blake has volunteered to help me with everything until all of this blows over.” She stumbled over her next words. “So you won’t have to take care of me anymore. You can get home now.”
Sean squared his shoulders. “This is what you want, Deanna?”
“Now you can stop worrying about me,” she said.
As if it were that easy. Like he could turn it off. “That’s not what I asked you. I asked if this is what you want.”
Blake crossed his arms. “Is there going to be a problem here, Loomis?”
Sean ignored him and addressed Deanna. “I promised your grandmother that I’d keep you safe,” Sean said. “Are you safe?”
“Of course,” she said. “You’re not the only good guy in town, Sean.”
“You said you were glad we were in this together,” he said. “I still want that. Don’t you?”
She wouldn’t look him in the eyes. Sean clutched her arms above the elbows and made her look at him. He studied her eyes for the truth. “Do you want me to leave, Deanna? Because if you do, you are going to have to say it plain.” He looked at Blake when he added, “Otherwise, I’m not going anywhere.”
Deanna opened her mouth, then shut it. Tears welled but didn’t spill from her stormy eyes. “This is what’s best, Sean.”
“Again, that’s not what I asked.”
“I want you to go,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”
He dropped his hands without a word and jumped from the porch, ready to bolt for the safety of his truck before he revealed too much of his disappointment.
“Sean!”
He turned, hoping for an explanation.
She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Thank you for everything. Stay safe, okay?” Her eyes begged him to understand. But he didn’t want her pity. He just wanted to leave and get on with things.
“Yeah, you too, Deanna,” he said over his shoulder, each bitter word burning his tongue. He strode toward the truck, too angry to say more.
In the privacy of the dark cab he slammed his open palm against the Beast’s steering wheel, relishing the sting. It was time to wake up. He hadn’t realized how much of a fairy-tale ending he’d been entertaining. He saw again the disgust in Uncle Paul’s face, suddenly aware of just how much those romantic notions had cost him. Sean hit the wheel twice more for good measure and started the ignition. He had promised he’d go home after he knew Deanna was safe. He didn’t particularly like Blake Ransford, but the man was just as capable as Sean was of protecting Deanna. With all his money, he was probably more equipped for it.
It was time to go home.
The old truck roared to life on the first turn of the key, a small mercy to Sean’s stung pride. He flipped a three-point turn, spitting up gravel in the process.
He grimaced. “I am so tired of being your fool, Deanna Jackson.”
Sean slowed his exit, determined to preserve whatever dignity he had left. Braking at the top of the driveway, he allowed himself a final look through the rearview mirror. Deanna lifted her hand in a small wave goodbye, making Sean’s chest warm. The sad little gesture melted his anger, replacing it with concern. Had his pride made him too hasty?
Deanna’s slender frame illuminated by the porch light looked almost childlike standing in Blake’s shadow. Blake’s large hand gripped her shoulder, possessing her. Where had the feisty cowgirl gone? She didn’t seem at all happy, so why was she sending him away?
He paused with his hand hovering above the gearshift, tempted to throw the truck into Reverse, to go back and fight for her. But before he acted, Blake pulled Deanna toward the door, and then she was out of sight. Sean felt the loss in his gut.
He listened to the click, click, click of the truck’s blinker. Was Deanna really okay? Could he trust Blake to keep her safe?
Sean dropped his gaze from the mirror. He had no right to ask those questions. Deanna had made her choice—he had heard her say it with her own mouth. She hadn’t acted scared. She was a grown woman. It wasn’t like he could force her to come with him. She wanted him to leave. He would leave.
“Lord, she’s Yours,” he prayed aloud. “Keep her safe.”