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“Because you’re bad for Salvation,” he snarled. “Your family likes to think of themselves as eccentrics with hearts of gold who are involved in criminal hijinks, but to me, your people are the broken windows in a neighborhood. You’re the first sign of things going downhill. Fool that he is, out there, Mateo was trying to protect your reputation—as if that was possible. Well, I’m trying to protect this town so that it grows and prospers. If your family name is connected to anything like the veterans’ center, it will only tarnish Salvation.”
By the time he was done, Tyrell’s round cheeks were bright red with bitter frustration. It wasn’t just a power grab, an ego trip, or revenge for the Christmas special documentary crew that had caught him dancing with his horse. He really believed what he was saying. There’d be no convincing him otherwise. He’d keep fighting her every step of the way—and he wasn’t above fighting dirty and taking down anyone who got in his way.
“Cancel the fundraiser. That’s it?” She pictured Miranda’s rounding belly and her throat tightened. Then she imagined Mateo handing in his badge and going to jail because of her.
He nodded. “One word from me and the judge sets a low bail and dismisses the charges. Then everything goes back to normal.” He narrowed his eyes. “Do we have a deal?”
She nodded, unable to get words past the lump in her throat.
“Good. I’ll go speak to the judge.” He stood and took a few steps toward the door then stopped and pivoted back to look at her. “Don’t think about double-crossing me. I’m not the kind of enemy you want to have.”
Sunset’s last orange hues were barely visible in the western sky when the dog picked his head up off Olivia’s lap and jumped down from where they’d been snuggling in the porch swing. Handsome, perched on the porch railing, executed a deep feline stretch and stared out into the darkened driveway. Headlights pierced the night as Mateo’s truck rumbled up the gravel road.
Her hands shook as she brushed them across her favorite yellow skirt and stood. Waiting on the porch after she’d called Luciana to let her know Mateo had been taken into custody had been the longest hours of her life. Against her better judgement, she’d pinned all her hopes on the mayor delivering on his end of the bargain, and he had. Relief swept through her as she released the breath she’d been holding since he’d started up the drive.
Mateo got out of the Salvation Police Department SUV, stopping at the back bumper and stared at her. Awareness sparked between them, making the rest of the world disappear. This was where she belonged—with the man she loved.
Energy buzzed through her, lightening her steps as she hurried to the railing, ready to call out to him, but something in the ramrod-straight line of his back and the grim twist to his lips stopped her. Dread spread like icy crystals throughout her body.
Not heeding or noticing the undercurrent, the dog went nuts, yapping and hopping along beside Mateo as he made his way stiffly to the front porch.
He glanced up at her cheek and winced. “Are you okay?” He reached out but stopped before his fingers grazed her bruised cheek. “I never meant to hurt you.”
“You didn’t.” She pressed her hand to the bruise; the swelling was already going down. “When you swung your arm free, I stumbled and whacked my cheek against the diner’s brick wall.” But a scraped cheek wasn’t what made her insides twist. “Did they file charges?”
He jammed his fingers through his hair, as if he could shove everything that had happened out of his head. “The whole thing was captured on The Kitchen Sink’s security cameras. You can see him take the first swing and then hear him taunting. The sheriff’s office took the case to avoid conflict of interest with my department. They aren’t filing charges.”
Relief made her shoulders sag. “So what happens now?”
He didn’t answer at first. Instead, he climbed up the porch steps and went to the door. After unlocking it, he pushed it open and then turned to face her. “You need to find a new place to live…as far away from me as possible.”
Her breath caught and she clasped her hand to the base of her throat. “Mateo, don’t—”
“I’m no good for you.” He turned away from her, showing her only the scarred left side of his face as he stared straight ahead into his dark house. “I knew it in that hotel room, when I was still whole, but when you came home I let myself forget. I played pretend. Seeing that video brought everything back. I’m not a man anyone should be with, let alone you.”
Pulse pounding in her ears, she rushed across the porch, grabbed his arm and forced him to turn and look at her. “Let alone me? What the hell does that mean?”
“It means that I’m a fucking walking disaster!” he roared. “Just look at my face and you can see that. What’s even scarier is the fact that I’m the lucky one. The other poor bastards with me ended up dead. And today, I try to help you and I end up making things worse because now your shit of an ex-boyfriend won’t just want money, he’s gonna want revenge. Just get the fuck out of my life. You don’t belong here—you never did and you never will.”
He slid his arm free and went into the house, closing the door in her face.
Olivia just stood there, trying to make sense of the world and of the man who she’d loved for most of her life. A numbness drifted over her, the kind she hoped would never go away because that’s when the bone-deep pain would hit, hard enough to drop her to her knees.
She couldn’t be standing on Mateo’s front porch or be in the cabin or even Salvation when it hit.
Scooping up Handsome, she walked to her car. The keys and her purse were still in it. Without thinking about where or how or what next, she got into her Fiat, drove down the driveway and turned left onto the highway. She didn’t even look back when she hit the Salvation County line.
Chapter Twelve
The pounding on Mateo’s door wouldn’t stop. It broke through the hangover headache beating his brain to a pulp and continued relentlessly. He sat up on the couch, still dressed in yesterday’s clothes that now stunk of bourbon and shit-ass decisions about his life. The dog had his nose pressed to the bottom of the front door, sniffing, as if whatever was on the other side was better than a T-bone steak.
Olivia.
His pulse ratcheted up and he jumped from the couch. That was how the mutt reacted to her every time—something they both had in common. She’d come back, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to push her away another time
. He’d fail her again.
“Mateo Garcia, we know you’re in there,” Miranda hollered through the door. “Open up right now!”
