Chapter Seven
Later that day Brock watched from next to the door as Libby helped Lee check into the rehab facility. The place seemed nice with its soft palette of colors in peaches, orange, and rose as well as the long couches and water fountain in the corner. A young woman with long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail greeted them. She was pretty, tall, curvy, with beautiful green eyes. If he wasn’t so enamored with Libby, he might be attracted to her, but Lee seemed to be a little in awe of her.
“My name is Amber Gillette and I am one of the counselors here. You must be Lee.” She held out her hand.
“Yeah.”
“No need to be worried. We’ll take good care of you.”
“I was here before.”
“I know. I’ve read your file. I didn’t work here when you were a resident before.”
Libby stepped forward. “I’m Libby Reynold’s, Lee’s sister. It’s nice to meet you.”
“And you. It’s great to see families who are willing to be supportive of their loved ones in their recovery.”
“How long have you been a counselor?”
“Several years, but I was an addict myself before I became one.”
“Wow.”
The woman blushed. “It’s nothing really. I realized after I got clean that I wanted to help others get passed their addiction, so I went to school and got my degree.”
“You aren’t old enough to have went through college and everything, are you?”
Amber laughed. “Thank you, but yes I am. I’m actually in my mid-thirties. I am working on my doctorate now.”
“Nice.”
Amber turned toward Lee, a slight blush to her cheeks giving Brock the idea she was quite taken with him too. “Lee. You and I need to talk about what you want and how you want to go about getting clean.” She tilted her head slightly as she nodded. “Are you ready to begin?”
“Yeah.” He turned toward Libby. “I guess I’ll see you in a couple of months.”
“Call me if you need me, and I’ll come right over.”
Amber stepped forward. “Actually, for the first month or so, he won’t be able to contact anyone outside of the facility. We require that of our residents now simply to keep them focused on recovery. As I’m sure you are aware, there are family members who enable the behavior that led to addiction.”
Libby’s shoulders stiffened. “I’m only here to help him.”
“I understand, but it’s best for him.”
“I’ll be okay, Lib. I trust these guys.”
The frown on Libby’s face made Brock want to smooth it with his fingers, hold her to his chest, and run his hands down her back. She would need him this evening.
He moved toward her and took her hand. “Let’s go. We have an errand to run.”
“We do?”
“Yes. Trust me.” She glanced back as he led her out the door, letting it close softly behind them. “He’ll be fine, Lib.”
“I know. It’s hard to leave him here though after the way he looked this morning.”
“He’s a grown man. He needs to take responsibility for his actions, something he hasn’t done until now.” He took her to the truck, opened the door, and gave her a questioning look. “Do you want me to drive?”
“Sure. I’d rather not have to think right now.”
He helped her into the passenger side, closing the door when she was buckled in. The truck turned over with a twist of the key. With a glance in her direction, he put the vehicle in drive and slowly moved out through the driveway and onto the street leading back toward Bard. “Do you want to get something to eat?” I probably shouldn’t ask that since I don’t have money to pay for anything.
“I really don’t feel like going out, Brock. Let’s go home.”
Home. I like the sound of that even if it’s not my home. “Sure, darlin’.”
She smiled at him, a sad look that said she was overwhelmed by everything that had went on the last couple of days.
Need reflected in her eyes. The need to be held and comforted, not taken advantage of in her vulnerable state. He could do that, he would do that for her.
Thirty minutes later, they pulled into the driveway of her house. She’d left a small lamp on in the living room and the porchlight on as well. The house looked cozy and warm, something he’d been missing the last several years.
A sigh escaped her lips.
“What are you thinking?”
“Nothing really.” Her gaze moved back to him. “I missed being able to snuggle with you last night. I like it when you hold me.”
“I like it too.”
“Will you tonight? Hold me, I mean.”
“If that’s what you want.”
“More than anything.” She reached over and ran her fingertips over his bottom lip. “I like it when you kiss me, too.”
“If we kiss, I won’t be able to keep my hands off you.”
Her lips lifted in a secretive little smile. He had a feeling she wanted more than snuggles.
“Would that be so bad?”
“No, but you’ve had a rough couple of days. I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
“I really need you right now, to make me forget.”
He couldn’t tell her no, didn’t want to in fact. He wanted her more with every breath he took. Once wasn’t enough with her, would never be enough he was afraid, even if he knew he wasn’t good for her.
Seconds later he pulled open her door, scooped her up in his arms, and headed for the house.
She giggled as she said, “We need to shut the door on the truck.”
“Shit. Sorry.” He headed back to the side of the vehicle and gave it a shove with his hip.
“Anxious?”
“Hell yeah. I want to be inside you so bad, I hurt.”
“I do hope you’ll be up for a little foreplay beforehand.” The door to the house opened with a push of her hand.
“Don’t worry, darlin’. I will make sure you are wound up so tight you’ll be afraid the top of your head will blow off the minute I’m inside you.” He kicked the door closed with his foot before heading down the hall with his precious bundle.
Once inside her bedroom, he gently laid her down on the bed. Her hair spread out around her like a halo. He couldn’t believe he was here with her, his fantasy girl, the one who had saved his soul more times than he could count while he rotten away behind bars. He touched her cheek. “So soft.”
She sat up before running her hands up his chest. On her knees, she wrapped her hands around behind his head and drew him down until their mouths were a scant centimeter apart. Her breath warmed his lips. Her eyes were bright and sparkling in the dim bedroom light coming through the window. “I want you.”
“I want you too, more than anything on this earth.”
“Make love to me, Brock. I need you to surround me.”
He pushed her back on the bed with his hands on her shoulders. His lips found hers in a kiss so soft, he thought he’d imagined it until her tongue touched his lips. She wanted him to surround her, and he would with everything inside him.
Their tongues danced from his mouth to hers while he slid his hands down her arms. Her skin was as soft as rose petals under his palms. He linked their fingers, bringing her hands up beside her head as he continued to devour her mouth. Her whimpers made his dick hard enough that it strained against the front of his pants, tenting the material. He trailed his lips over her cheek to her ear, nipping at the lobe for a moment before moving on down her neck. He left little love bites on her skin, marking her as his even if it was only temporary.
The small straps of her shirt did nothing to stop his assault on her senses as he made his way across her chest. Her tank top had a built in bra so she hadn’t worn one. The fabric moved easily out of his way with a brush of his nose over her skin. Her left breast appeared, the nipple rosy and pulled into a tight little nub.
She arched her back as he blew a breath over the tip. “Oh God.”
When his mouth closed over her nipple, she whimpered a low sound that came from deep in her throat. He sucked lightly on the nub, giving it a small nip of his teeth to bring her back to the here and now. He didn’t want her coming too soon. He had plans for them tonight and it meant she needed to hold off her orgasm as long as possible.
After he disengaged their fingers, he worked the top down further on her torso so he could feast on her breasts. They were perfect, soft to the touch, and fit just right in the palms of his hands. The peaks were pink and standing straight up, waiting for his mouth. He wouldn’t disappoint her.
He encircled the tip of the right one with his mouth, pulling on it with a strong suck until he had the entire areola in between his lips. He rubbed his tongue back and forth over the tip, up one side and then the other, until she was tossing her head on the pillow.
“Please, Brock.”
“Easy, baby.”
He worked the button loose on her jeans, pulled the zipper down, and then followed a path with his tongue down her abdomen as he pulled her pants down until her jeans pooled at her shoes. “Shit.”
She giggled as he worked the boots off her feet so he could get the pants off. “So sexy.” She laughed again as he grinned up at her.
“Smooth, right?”
“Yes, sir. You are one smooth operator.”
He tossed the jeans in the corner of the room before slowly sliding her panties down her legs. Her sex glistened, and the scent of her arousal filled his head.
Sliding his lips up the inside of her leg brought out the goose bumps on her skin. He could feel them as he slicked his tongue over her flesh, crawling ever closer to her center. Her taste was a high he didn’t want to come down from.
The crease between her thigh and her pussy brought the memory of a few days ago. Good God, it had only been a few days. They’d made love for the first time in fifteen years, but again it seemed like forever ago. He wanted to be with her for so long, he’d almost made this whole thing up in his mind. That’s it. I’m dreaming. I’m really still back at the pen and this is all a dream.
He lifted his head and looked deep into her eyes as he hovered over her lips. “Is this for real? Am I really here with you like this?”
“Yes. God, yes. I’ve waited for you for so long, I thought we’d never be together again when you went away, but you’re back and here with me.”
He brought their lips together gently. He was terrified of scaring her off. If she saw the real him, the one he’d become in prison, she would run screaming from the room. He’d been hard in there. He’d become someone else to survive, someone people he knew wouldn’t recognize.
“Brock, look at me.”
His gaze fixed on her. Her beautiful face reminded him of times gone, the life he’d had before all hell had broken loose, and of how things should have been.
“You aren’t there anymore. You’re here, with me, in Bard. Things can go back to the way they were before all of that.”
“Libby. My beautiful, Libby.” He pushed her hair back off her forehead. “You are so good and kind. You should be with someone who will love you like you should be loved.”
She fisted his shirt in her hand. “Damn you, Brock. Don’t you dare turn your back on me. I love you, damn it, and I refuse to let you walk away from us.”
He reeled back as if she’d slapped him. She loved him? Oh hell.
* * * *
Libby sat on the back deck of her house the next day, soaking up the sun on her face as she sipped ice tea. After she’d returned from the clinic, she’d changed back into her soft cotton t-shirt and a pair of shorts. Her kick back and relax clothes included no bra.
She didn’t know what to think today. Brock had walked out on her the night before, leaving her half-dressed and so aroused she could have probably shot a dildo across the room when she came.
When she’d told him she loved him, he’d been so shocked, he jumped up, and walked out, slamming the front door behind him as he left.
The rest of the evening she’d been lost, wandering around her house as if she had no purpose. The stillness of the place had almost driven her crazy while she’d wondered where he’d gone.
He hadn’t come back last night at all.
She did realize he’d become a big part of her life in a very short time.
She’d went to the clinic this morning for a bit, to check on the collie and do a little bit of paperwork, but her mind wasn’t on the tasks at hand. Brock was the center of her thoughts.
Well to hell with him. If he can’t come to terms with our relationship then he needs to move on.
Her heart stopped in her chest for a second. Yes, she was a bit pissed at him right now. That didn’t mean she wanted him out of her life. She wanted him here with her, but he had to want that too. He had to need her as much as she needed him.
The problem at hand seemed to be his need to be a man. He’d only had himself to rely on while he was in prison, and no one else. She could understand that. She was pretty independent herself now that she had her own business, her own home, and her own life.
The gate to her back yard creaked open then closed. Who was invading her peace and quiet?
When she glanced up, she was surprised to see Dean Carlton. “Hey, Dean.”
“Hey, Libby.” He glanced around before shoving his sunglasses up on his head. “You didn’t answer the door, so I took a chance and came around back.”
“No problem. I haven’t seen you in a long time. What brings you away from Fort Mavis?”
“Brock Callahan.”
Her gaze narrowed on the sheriff’s badge on his chest glinting in the sunlight. Was Brock in trouble? It wasn’t like Dean to get involved in something outside of his jurisdiction.
“Do you know where he is?”
“Actually, no I don’t. He left last night and I haven’t seen him since.”
The lines around Dean’s mouth deepened as he looked at her. His hand rested on the butt of the pistol at his side.
“Is there something wrong?”
“No. I ran into him in Fort Mavis yesterday at one of the stores. A taillight on your truck was out, so I stopped him. He said he’d tell you about it.”
“He didn’t, but then again, we didn’t talk much last night.”
“I need to talk to him. If you see him, tell him to call me.” Dean handed her a business card.
“Uh, okay.”
Dean pulled his sunglass back down to cover his eyes. “See you around, Libby.”
“You too, Dean.”
As the gate slammed shut behind him, she tapped the card to her lips. The whole conversation was really weird, and she couldn’t figure out what the hell Dean Carlton needed to talk to Brock about. She didn’t even know they knew each other, much less had business together. Of course, she might not even see Brock again. He might have high-tailed it out of the county by now.
At this point, she didn’t have much choice but to continue on with her life and wait for Brock to decide what he wanted to do with his. If it included her, then so be it.
Two hours later she stood at the island in her kitchen puttering around as she made a new dessert she’d found online. Baking calmed her even in the worst situations. Right now she didn’t know which way was up when it came to Brock. This was her salvation.
A knock sounded on her door.
She stuck a batter-covered finger between her lips as she walked through the dining room, between the sofa and the chair, and then pulled open the door.
Brock stood on the other side of the screen with a bag in his hands.
He looked fabulous to her, but he also looked tired, worn, and beaten. His t-shirt was dirty, his jeans were muddy, and she wasn’t sure what was caked on his boots.
“Can I come in?”
“Of course, but leave those boots out on the porch. I’m not sure I want to know what is clinging to the bottom of them.”
A small smile lifted the corners of his mouth and that’s when she noticed his eyes were no longer clouded with doubt. Something had happened between last night and this morning to change him. A miracle, she hoped. He deserved a break for a change.
When she stepped back to let him in, he brushed past her. The odor of cattle trailed him. “The shower is free if you want to use it.”
He looked down at his shirt before glancing back up at her. “Yeah, I think I’m pretty ripe about now.”
“I didn’t want to say it, but yeah, you are.”
“I want to tell you something first. I got a job.”
“You did? That’s fantastic, Brock.” She wanted to hug him to her, but not knowing what was on his clothes, she dared not.
“Yeah. Cole Bidwell’s place. I met him in town today. He mentioned one of his ranch hands had quit, and he was short a body. I went out there and did some work for him today. He seemed pleased and told me to be there tomorrow morning again. I guess that’s good.”
“He’s a really nice guy. I’m sure you’ll do great out there.”
“I hope so, Lib. I need this more than you know.” He shook his head for a moment like a stray thought had gone through his mind before he smiled again and said, “I’ll be right back.” He looked at her intently before turning and walking down the hallway toward the bathroom.
A few minutes later, she heard the shower come on as she moved toward the kitchen to put the blackberry cobbler she’d assembled, into the oven. She set the timer and then began to clean up her mess in the kitchen.
Her imagination went wild with thoughts of Brock naked in the small expanse with water streaming down over his shoulders and down the muscles of his chest, the soap sliding over his ripped abdomen to pool at the base of his cock before streaming down his legs. She wanted to follow those bubbles with her tongue.
Now she stood with her hands on the granite countertop curled into fists as she fought her body’s response to the image in her mind. Her clit throbbed with need as she shifted her stance to try to relieve some of the pressure between her thighs. He’d left her wound as tight as a spring the night before, and thinking about him naked now just made it that much worse. Her nipples pebbled into tight nubs that rubbed erotically against her t-shirt. Her breath became choppy. Her heart raced in her chest, pounding against her ribs like a bird trying to get out of a cage as it frantically beat against the bars.
Hands came around her middle, pulling her back against a hard chest. Lips grazed her neck from behind her ear to the scoop between her neck and her shoulder. Her skin broke out in goose bumps at the touch of his hands. “Brock,” she whispered as she laid her head back against him.
“God, Lib.”
He cupped her breasts, rubbing the taut nipples as she moaned softly. She couldn’t push him away even though she should. Giving into him meant shutting off the shouting in her head as her mind told her he wasn’t good for her.
One hand skimmed down her abdomen to dip under the waistband of her shorts and between her thighs. The callouses on his fingertips grazed her clit, dragging out a shudder that rolled through her. When she turned toward him, he framed her face with his hands as he put his forehead against hers.
“You are so beautiful. I need you like my next breath.”
He moved his hands to her ass as he claimed her mouth with his and lifted her so she sat on the counter.
When her bare ass hit the cold counter, she gasped. Somewhere between standing and sitting, he’d gotten her shorts off her ass along with her panties
Her clothes hit the tile floor as he stepped between her parted thighs.
In seconds he had her shirt over her head and on the floor, revealing her breasts to his hot gaze.
“You are perfect.”
He worked his way down her chest, taking first the right nipple between his lips and then the left before he moved further down so he was positioned over her clit. Hot breath over her aching center made her whimper in need. She needed his mouth there, right there, more than anything.
“You are so wet.”
“Touch me. Lick me. Please.”
The very tip of his tongue swiped against her clit. Holy fuck!
She brought her legs up to perch her heels on the edge of the counter, opening herself to him so he could do what he wanted with her. Stopping this now would be the death of her.
Two fingers pushed into her pussy while his scalding tongue danced over her clit.
He licked and sucked on her clit, humming his pleasure against her flesh.
The torturous desire he wrought from her body had her on the precipice of the orgasmic high of her life, within moments. She tossed her head back, moaning low in her throat as she let herself go and came so hard she saw stars behind her eyelids. Her breath rasped out between her parted lips as her heart came back to a rhythm that didn’t feel like it would burst from her chest any second.
When he stood, the heat in his gaze singed her to the point that her skin felt on fire—for him. Not wanting to break the spell of the moment, she didn’t go into the lovey-dovey feelings running around in her head. “Fuck me, Brock.”
“My pleasure, baby.” He scooped her up in his arms and set her down on the dining room table.
He quickly removed his clothes, leaving his cock standing tall and proud against his abdomen. It was magnificent. Thick, long, and glistening with precome, she wanted to swipe her tongue over the tip to taste that salty flavor. She leaned forward intent on touching it, but he stopped her with a hand on hers.
“If you touch me now, I won’t be able to hold back. I’m going to have a hard time holding off my orgasm to give you one more.” He touched her face, skimming his fingers down her cheek. “You are the best thing to ever happen to me, Libby.”
She kissed his chest above his heart. Even if he wouldn’t admit to loving her, she loved him. That would never change. “I love you. That won’t change no matter whether you run from this or not. I know you want to take care of everything, that’s just the way you are, but it’s okay to need someone else sometimes.”
“I love you too. God, I love you so much.” He kissed her hard, his tongue caressing hers for a moment before he lifted his head. “I spent all last night thinking about you, about us, and I realized that you’re it for me. You’ve always been it for me. I don’t want to live without you.”
She grasped his cock in her hand and lined him up with her center. He slowly pushed inside, filling her to the point that it almost hurt. The pain was welcome though. It meant he was here with her, and he wanted her as much as she wanted him.
The slow glide of his cock in and out of her pussy was torture. Her pussy grasped at his cock every time he pulled out and pushed back in. At this rate, he was going to kill her with need. “Please, Brock.”
“Do you want me to fuck you hard or soft? Do you want me to rub your clit as I pound into you? Do you want me to flip you over and fuck you from behind? Tell me what you want, Libby.”
“All of it.”
He pulled back, flipped her over onto her stomach, and pushed his cock into her from behind as he reached around and pinched her clit.
Her world exploded on a rush, her orgasm rolling over her like a tornado ripping through a house. Nothing could stop it, and she didn’t want it to. “Brock!”
Chapter Eight
Brock stood outside the house of the woman he’d went to jail for murdering. He’d never been there before, but he’d had a weird sensation he needed to see it.
It wasn’t much to see really, a simple ranch-style house with green shutters, big windows, and a large porch. He hadn’t planned on going by the house even though the address had been burned into his brain for years, it just happened as he turned the corner onto Maple drive.
Darkness surrounded him, cloaking the area in an inky blackness that seemed to fill his soul. A small light burned in the window of the house, reminding him time had moved on. Revenge had been his only thought when he’d left Florida two weeks before, but now he wanted to move on with his life. He wanted a life with Libby.
She’d made him realize he’d done his time and could be the person he was meant to be. The past didn’t matter anymore. He had a future to look forward to.
The smell of rain on the wind and the distance rumble of thunder made tonight very similar to the night he’d been handcuffed and stuffed into the back of the police cruiser. The night the life he’d planned was irrevocably changed.
He’d been walking home from spending the evening working in the barn at Dunbar Ranch. He didn’t have a vehicle at the time, so hoofing it back and forth was his only option. That night after everyone else had gone home, he’d stayed in the barn in the hayloft dreaming of what his life would be like if he could just win a few more big purses riding broncs. He’d been doing fairly well the last several months before that and had even managed to save some of his paychecks.
He’d had a plan.
College.
He’d wanted to go back to school. He’d done the two years bumming around the area, working his ass off, and now he wanted to enroll in college and get a degree in electrical engineering. The possibilities were endless, since he had some money to get started.
After spending a few more minutes staring at the house, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and walked on down the street.
It was over.
The burning in his gut was no longer there. Libby had helped him extinguish the flames of revenge.
As he made his way toward the center of town, he realized he hadn’t really told Libby where he’d been headed when he’d left right after breakfast. He didn’t take her truck, preferring to walk and think. He had some plans to make and walking always helped clear his head. It was time be became self-sufficient. A job and a vehicle were on his agenda today, and he managed to accomplish at least one of those.
With night surrounding him, the lights of one of Bard’s premiere bars burned in the distance. A beer sounds really good. One wouldn’t hurt.
When he reached the big doors, he pushed the right one open and stepped inside. Lights swirled left to right and front to back near the stage where a band played country music. There were several dancers on the floor, two stepping to the music. He saw a few faces he recognized, but no one approached him as he made his way toward an empty table in the back near the corner. He could put his back to the wall and watch everyone as they came and went.
A cute little redheaded waitress stopped at his table. “What can I get you?”
“A beer is fine.”
She rattled off the types of beers they had on tap and in a bottle. He chose something and watched her walk back toward the bar without looking back. She wasn’t anyone he’d seen before, so it would be safe to not watch her.
People milled about, not paying him much attention. He could see faces in the brighter lights over the bathroom doors, making it easier to keep tabs on a few. Trouble would be something to avoid. He didn’t need the cops coming in and arresting him for something stupid only because he already had a record. Keep things low profile.
A man stepped up to his table, grabbed the chair across from him, and straddled it, resting his arms on the back. “Callahan.”
Brock recognized him immediately. “Officer Carlton. What can I do for you?”
The waitress came over with his beer, setting it on the table. “Hey, Dean. I haven’t seen you here for a long time. Can I get you something?”
Dean tipped his chin to indicate the beer on the table. “One of those would be fine, Maggie. Thank you.”
Her lips lifted in a smile as she said, “Sure.” It was obvious the girl thought Sheriff Carlton was someone she’d like to get to know better.
Dean watched her walk back toward the bar before he focused back on Brock. “I went by Libby’s a couple of days ago. You weren’t there, but I told her to tell you to call me.”
“She must have forgotten. She’s been really busy at the clinic the last two days. We haven’t seen much of each other.”
Dean shrugged his shoulders as the waitress came back with his beer and set the bottle down in front of him. “Thanks, darlin’.”
Brock found it rather funny when the girl backed away from Dean without turning around and then smacked into someone. “Nice girl.”
“I guess. Too young for me.”
“She doesn’t think so.”
“Whatever.” Dean took a long draw off the beer in his hands. “Listen. After I ran into you in Fort Mavis the other day, I got to digging a little into your case. There are a lot of inconsistencies in the evidence, and the lawyer you had was a complete idiot.”
“Yeah, I know. Not much I could do about it at the time, being state appointed.”
“I can imagine so. If you don’t mind, I want to reopen your case.”
“How can you do that? You’re the sheriff in another county.”
“I have a friend who is a private investigator. He’ll do the digging. I’ll be a bystander and help where I can. Who knows? If we blow this case wide open, there might be some cross over between Bard and Fort Mavis. There could be something there that connects the two.”
“Do you think so?”
“Maybe. There are a couple of unsolved murders in Fort Mavis that are freakishly similar to the one you were convicted of.” Dean scratched his jaw. “Although I’m not sure why they didn’t try to convict you of those as well.”
Brock thought back to the few meetings he had with his attorney. Dean was right. The guy was an idiot, a drinker, and who knew what else. He didn’t have a clue what it meant to defend someone who was innocent. Every bit of what had been presented was circumstantial. They had a witness that said he’d been seen in the neighborhood milling about across the street under a street light the night of the murder, but when the man was asked to identify him in court, he couldn’t.
Evidence presented said her throat had been slit with a hunting knife that was found in the kitchen, with his blood and fingerprints on the handle.
When they presented the knife in court, he’d recognized it as one he’d bought with his own money at the age of sixteen after he’d gotten his first paycheck from the ranch. He’d loved that knife and carried it everywhere in a special pouch at his waist. Three months before the murder, he’d lost the knife somewhere. He’d been heartbroken at its disappearance, but when it had appeared as the murder weapon, he’d tried to tell them he’d lost it. The jury didn’t believe him.
During his time in the pen, he rehashed every detail of the trial and the evidence. He’d remember cutting his thumb with the knife one day right before it disappeared, leaving blood on the handle. He’d planned to clean it off when he went home that night from work, but he’d forgotten and then it had vanished.
“Okay, come on back, Callahan.”
He focused his attention back on Dean. “Sorry. Memories can be haunting.”
“I bet.” Dean took another drink of his beer. “I’d like for you to meet with my friend. Go over details. You know, give him your side of the story. He’ll be able to sort things out from there.”
“It’s been so long ago now. How can anyone find the truth?”
“If there is a truth to be found, he’ll find it. He’s an expert on cold case files. He’s been a detective in the Los Angeles police force for a long time, but retired after he was shot on a case where they cornered the perp. He wasn’t able to work anymore, so he became a private investigator.”
Brock’s hands began to sweat. Could they really find out who’d killed that woman and her baby? Would they be able to clear his name? He rubbed his itchy palms down the thighs of his jeans. He almost felt sick to his stomach with excitement over the prospect of being declared innocent.
“The guy is the best, Callahan. He’ll get this done.”
“Why are you helping me, Carlton?”
“After I saw you in Fort Mavis the other day, I remember how intrigued I was by your case. I wasn’t in law enforcement yet, but I really felt you were given the shaft for some reason. Everything I’d read said you didn’t do it. Seeing you again brought those feelings back, and call me a sucker if you want, but I’m all about helping those wronged. It’s my nature.” He sipped his beer again. “Besides, Libby is a friend of mine. She believes in you or she wouldn’t have you around. That’s a pretty good reference in my book.”
“Libby and I have known each other for a long time.”
Dean’s eyes narrowed. “Listen, Callahan. I think you are innocent in the murder of that woman, but that doesn’t mean you are necessarily the best thing for Libby. I will leave that up to her though. She’s a grown woman and can decide for herself. With that said, I don’t want to see her hurt either.”
“I love her, Dean, and she loves me. I don’t plan to hurt her if I can do anything to stop it. She means the world to me.”
“Good. I hope you two have a long, happy life together.”
Brock watched Dean for a minute, wondering if he meant what he said. Maybe he wanted Libby for himself? Dean was a good-looking guy and could give Libby everything she needed. To hell with that! Libby is mine! “I’m sure we will, and if I can clear my name that will make things better all the way around.”
Dean drained his beer and stood. “I will call my friend tomorrow and give him Libby’s number to contact you so you two can talk. It might take a while for all the loose ends to be tied up.”
“I know it takes longer to prove someone is innocent than it does to prove they are guilty.” Brock stood too. It was time to go home to Libby. “Thanks for your help with this. I can’t imagine what I’ve done to deserve it, but I’m grateful all the same.”
Dean reached into his back pocket and handed him a business card. “Call me if you need anything until then. I’ll help if I can.” The two of them shook hands. “I’ll be in touch.”
Brock watched Dean walk through the bar doors as the weight of the last fifteen years disappeared from his shoulders. He felt like he could actually breathe again.
The waitress came by to see if he wanted another beer. “No. I’m fine. Here you go,” he said as he tossed some money on her tray before heading for the doors.
Today had been one of the best days of his life. A job had fallen into his lap, and he now had someone who would help him clear his name. He couldn’t have asked for anything more.
Wanting to get home to Libby and tell her his news, he pulled out his cell phone to call a cab. He needed to save the few dollars he had left before his first paycheck, but he could afford to take a cab tonight. It wouldn’t be long before he had a steady income again.
After he made the call, he stood off to the side of the building as he waited. People milled about, moving in and out the doors wanting to enjoy the evening. He propped his shoulder against the corner and watched.
A sharp jab in the middle of his back brought his attention into harsh clarity.
“Don’t turn around.”
“I don’t have much money, man.”
“I don’t want your money.”
“What do you want then? Sticking me in the back is the coward’s way. Face me if you want to kill me.”
“I’m not here to hurt you either, Callahan. I’m here to warn you.”
“Warn me about what?”
“There are people who don’t want the truth known. Dr. Reynold’s will be hurt if you don’t let go of the past. The person responsible for the murder knows you are digging.”
“Do you know who it is?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me, and I’ll let it go. No one has to know you said anything.”
“I can’t. They’ll know.” The guy’s voice rose in pitch. It was apparent he was terrified. “It wasn’t supposed to go down like that. She wasn’t supposed to die.”
“The woman?”
“Yeah. It was meant to scare her into leaving.”
“Why?”
“The baby.”
“The baby?” Think Callahan. Who? He tried to figure out what the guy meant. It wasn’t clear. None of this made sense. Brock could feel the knife in his back shake. If the guy got antsy, he might do something stupid like shove the knife in a little too far. As it was, it stuck right near his liver. “The baby belonged to someone who didn’t want its parentage known?”
“Yeah. Affairs can get messy like that. Someone important?”
“Yes, but you need to stop digging into this. You are free now. Leave it be or someone will get hurt. Important people know how to make folks disappear and never be found, even people as well liked as your friend.”
“Libby?”
“They’ll hurt her if you don’t stop. I’ve heard them talking.”
“I’ll kill anyone who hurts her.”
The sharp jab disappeared. “Let it go.” The man’s voice bled into the darkness.
Brock spun around hoping to get a glimpse of the man, but he was nowhere to be found. “Son of a bitch. I need to warn Libby. That’s probably why someone broke into her house. They were trying to warn me they knew about us and that they would hurt her if I didn’t leave it alone.”
The cab arrived a moment later, and within seconds they were speeding down the road toward Libby’s house.
When they pulled up in front, there were several lights on. Brock quickly paid the driver, ran up to the front of the house, and pushed open the door.
What he saw took his breath away.
Libby sat in the middle of the room buck-ass naked, tied tightly to a chair. A gag filled her mouth. Mascara ran down her cheeks. Her eyes were wide with terror as she shook her head and glanced to the side.
A man he didn’t know stood leaning against the doorjamb between the living room and the hallway with his arms were crossed over his chest. His demeanor was relaxed, but Brock could tell he was coiled tight. The guy was as tall as he was, but not quite as muscled or broad across the chest.
“Well, well. It’s about time, Callahan. I thought you’d never show up.”
“Who the hell are you?”
“You don’t need to know that, asshole. All you need to know is that you and your lovely lady there are going to die tonight.”
“Why?”
“You know too much. You should have died in prison like we’d planned, but you didn’t. You managed to survive and come back here.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, man. Let us go, and we’ll go somewhere else, move somewhere else. You don’t have to kill us.”
The man smiled, showing a few missing teeth and those that weren’t gone were rotten. “You don’t get it do you? You don’t have a choice in the matter.” He moved toward Brock as a knife appeared in his right hand. “And after I’m done fucking you up, I’m going have a little fun with your lady there. She’s a pretty little piece of fluff, and I’m sure it’s real sweet right there between her thighs.”
His vision went red at the thought of this asshole raping Libby. Brock knew he would have to fight for his and Libby’s lives. Luckily, one thing he had learned in the pen was how to fight with knives or shanks. It was the only thing most of the prisoners had to hurt or defend themselves with. Hand to hand combat had also become something he was pretty good at.
The two of them circled each other as Brock gauged what the man’s strength and weaknesses might be.
Libby whimpered as she struggled with her bonds. He risked a look at her just as the man lunged, slicing through the skin on his right side. Blood seeped through and it hurt like a bitch, but it made Brock that much madder. He jumped toward the man, spinning to his left at the last minute when the guy sliced through the air. He grabbed the guy’s wrist right above where he held the knife, twisted it around behind him, and shoved his arm up the middle of his back until the guy screamed in pain. The knife clattered to the floor at their feet. Brock kicked the weapon away, watching it slide under the couch.
He pushed the guy face down on the couch as he struggled to remove the belt at his waist. Working as a wrangler for years made him an expert at hogtieing someone. He didn’t have a full coil of rope to really tie the guy, but his belt would work in a pinch. Once he got it loose, he set it on the couch beside the man, yanked both hands down to the middle of his back, and then wrapped his belt around the man’s wrists.
The man continued to kick his feet to try to get free, screaming cuss words, and threatening both of them when he got loose. Brock made sure he wasn’t going to get a chance.
Brock worked the ropes on her loose until she could move. “Easy, baby. I’ll get you free in a second, but I need to use these on him to keep him secure until the cops can get here.”
She pulled the gag out of her mouth. “You can’t call the local police, Brock. Call Dean Carlton. He has friends with the state patrol.”
“I ran into Dean earlier.”
“Good. Call him.” She rubbed her arms. “I need to get some clothes on. He caught me coming out of the shower.”
Brock touched the red marks on her breast softly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”
“We can talk about this later.”
Her eyes were haunted. He knew this wasn’t going to be easy to get over.
“I’ll be right back.” A small smile lifted the corners of her mouth before she turned and went down the hall toward the bedroom.
Brock grabbed the ropes from the floor and finished tying the guy up so he couldn’t get loose, then stuffed the gag that had been in Libby’s mouth into his so he would shut the hell up.
He pulled out his wallet where he’d stuffed Dean’s card, grabbed the phone from his pocket, and walked into the kitchen to call.
“Carlton.”
“Dean? It’s Brock Callahan. You wouldn’t still be in town, would you?”
“Not really, no. Why?”
“I need your expertise and your connections to the state police. When I came home from the bar, there was a man here in Libby’s house. He had her bound to a chair and threatened to kill both of us. He had a knife.” Brock looked down at the blood on his shirt. He might need a few stitches. “I also had a visitor outside the bar. I can’t tell you about it on the phone though. If people know about me and Libby and are willing to kill us, the house is probably bugged or something.”
“I’ll be there in about twenty minutes. I have a friend who is a detective with the state police department. He’s clean and on the up and up.”
“Thanks, Dean.”
“No problem.”
The phone went dead as Libby walked back into the room wearing a sweatshirt, sweatpants, socks, and tennis shoes. It was eighty degrees outside, but she absently rubbed her arms as if she was cold.
Brock pulled her into his embrace, hugging her tightly to his chest. “I’m so sorry, Lib,” he whispered. “I should have been here to protect you.” She clung to his back with her hands balled into fists. He could feel her shoulders shaking with sobs she tried to conceal. “Ssh. It’ll be okay. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
In no time at all, Dean and his friend pulled up in front of the house. He knocked softly before pushing open the door and walking inside.
Brock was struck again by the stature of his new friend. Dean Carlton was not a man to mess with.
“You okay?” Dean asked as he moved toward them. He motioned to his friend and introduced him as well. “Beckett Chishom. He works with the state bureau of investigation.”
Brock stuck out his hand and introduced himself and Libby.
The guy looked around before jotting down some notes on a pad of paper he’d pulled out of his shirt pocket. He tipped his head to the side, whispered something in Dean’s ear, and then walked outside.
Dean leaned closer to Brock and whispered, “I’m going to put him in Beckett’s car and then we can talk in mine.”
Brock nodded and ushered Libby outside. They probably wanted to make sure they could talk without being overheard.
The back door was open to Dean’s SUV. He pushed Libby gently inside and climbed in behind her. Dean and Beckett sat in the front.
“So what exactly happened in there?” Dean asked.
Brock went into detail about what he’d found when he came home. Libby added her part after she found the man in her house when she got out of the shower. Brock put his arm around her, pulling her into a hug. She cuddled into his chest like a lost puppy.
The particulars about Brock’s run in with the man beside the bar came next. He told Dean about the entire conversation, leaving nothing out.
“It sounds like there is some big people involved in this.” Dean rubbed his chin and glanced over his shoulder at Brock. “The man didn’t tell you anything more about who might be involved?”
“No. He was terrified though. I could hear it in his voice. Why he came to warn me, I don’t know, but I appreciate it.”
“You might have to leave town for a while,” Beckett added as he flicked his cigarette out the window.
“I can’t. I have a business here. My practice wouldn’t survive if I wasn’t here. There is no one else to do it,” Libby cried.
“I understand, Dr. Reynold’s, but your life is in danger.”
“I get that. I’ll hire someone to protect me, protect us, but I won’t run.”
Brock turned her and cupped her face. “Libby, I don’t want you hurt. If anything were to happen to you, especially because of me, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”
“I’m not afraid, Brock. I won’t let these assholes ruin my life, our lives. I’m done with this.”
He pushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “My little hellion.”
“We’ll get through this, Brock, together. I won’t let fear define me.”
“All right. We’ll stay, but we are hiring someone to protect you twenty-four hours a day.”
“Fine.” She kissed him lightly on the mouth. “And tomorrow, we are getting a dog, a really big dog.”
All three men laughed, but Brock knew, she wasn’t kidding.