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“Sheriff Mike Connors?” It was everything Luke could do to remain sitting with his hands quietly laced around her. His brother had butted heads with Connors when Garrett first arrived—enough to know the sheriff wasn’t above stretching the law. Apparently, he wasn’t above breaking it either. Luke could guess what Sally was going to say next, and if she thought he was going to let that son of a bitch get away with hurting her, she wasn’t thinking clearly. Reminding himself to breathe, he leaned his head toward her ear.
“It’s okay, babe,” he whispered.
“I had to get up early the next morning and I just wanted to go home and crawl in bed. By then I was really feeling the drinks. It was stupid—I knew better—no amount of rationalizing will ever excuse what I did. God, Luke, I let him take me home.” Her voice broke and she swiped at tears falling freely down her face.
“I fell asleep in the car. I don’t even remember arriving at the house. The next morning I woke up naked in my bed…and I knew. The bastard had drugged me…and raped me.”
With a gargantuan effort, Luke kept his voice calm and nonreactive, because anything else would only make it harder for her. “Did you call the cops?”
Sally shook her head miserably, issuing a cynical laugh. “What part of sheriff didn’t you understand? I don’t know how it is where you’re from, but here all the law enforcement officers belong to a good-old-boys club. I was barely twenty, new to the area and trying not to undo what Marshal Lambert had done for me by having my face splashed all over the media. Who was going to believe me over a cop?” She lost it then, covering her face as she leaned into him, her torso shaking with her sobs.
Luke held her close, using his body as a shield from young, inquisitive girls who might otherwise see her and come running to find out what was wrong. “Go ahead and cry, babe. You’ve earned the right. I’m sorry I wasn’t here then to take care of that piece-of-shit sheriff.” Barely breathing the words, he doubted if she heard him…and it was just as well. He was here now, and he wasn’t going to let an opportunity to kick the man’s ass pass him by. Luke would gladly accept Sally’s threatened retribution for the privilege of unleashing holy hell on the sheriff’s good name.
Sally gradually settled, crossing her arms on top of his and glancing at him over her shoulder. “Morning sickness was so bad with Jen I knew before I ever took the pregnancy test. It was just a formality. I don’t think I’ve ever been more alone or scared as I was then. So sick I couldn’t make it to work half the time and barely making ends meet as it was. I didn’t know Rachel very well back then, but she could tell something was wrong, and I finally told her I was pregnant.” Sally stopped and leaned her head back on his shoulder.
Luke had never felt so helpless. He was used to being in the thick of battle, making shit happen, but there was nothing he could do but listen, and it was killing him.
“I wouldn’t have made it through the next eight and a half months without Rachel, Peg and Jonathan. They literally saved my life. And then Jen was born, and I couldn’t believe something so good, so perfect, had come from all that ugliness.” Sally shifted in his arms, turning sideways, love shining in her eyes for her daughter, who was currently helping Bridgett examine some treasure she held.
“She’s pretty incredible…and you’re an amazing mother.” Luke pressed his lips to her ear, wiping an errant tear from her cheek, happy to hear her chuckle at his compliment.
“I am, aren’t I?”
He snorted. “And humble too. How many more would you like, sunshine?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “Babies? A couple should do it.”
The idea of creating babies with this beautiful woman made him smile. Sally and Jen had been all the family he’d craved, and they’d seemed unattainable a few short days ago. Nine months ago, he’d been faced with the possibility of never walking again. Only a week before that, he’d accepted the fact he would likely die in a filthy shithole somewhere in Afghanistan. Now, babies? Luke buried his face in the crook of her neck as his vision blurred and his eyes burned with unshed tears—the first he’d allowed since Ian’s death.
Sally shifted again, her front meeting his as she slid her arms around his neck. “Thanks for not judging me, Luke.”
He squeezed her tighter, not trusting his voice, and they stayed like that for a long time, listening to the chatter of the kids and their carefree laughter.
“Hey, Harding, ya wuss! Dinner’s ready. Quit screwin’ off and get your ass up here.” Travis’s gravelly drawl intruded into their peace.
Sally’s head jerked up. “Travis, you promised to work on the language thing.” She raised her voice to the same level his had been and glared at him where he stood about a hundred feet away. Tall grass, driven by a light wind, fanned around his legs. Behind him, all the lights were on in Daniel and Ellen’s cabin and, for the first time, Luke noticed the aromas of good home cooking wafting on the breeze.
“Oh, sh…I mean shoot, Sally. I’m sorry. I forgot about the kids. I swear, it won’t happen again.” Travis shook his head, turned and stomped toward the cabin, still talking and waving his arms.
“Mom, are we going to eat?” Jen rose and started gathering her fishing gear. “I’m starving.”
Sally’s eyes shone with love for her daughter, and, again, Luke felt an inkling of possessiveness.
He caught her gaze and held it until her smile faded. “Thanks for letting me in, sunshine.” He would call Sheriff Anderson in Huntington first thing tomorrow and get the lowdown on Connors. Then he’d ask Ben to check the whereabouts of Jen’s father the night Sally’s house burned. The man wouldn’t be the sheriff for long if Luke had his way. He almost hoped Connors didn’t have anything to do with the events at Sally’s house or, later, on the road to Aunt Peg’s. Luke would much rather Sheriff Connors remained free so he could take his time destroying the man’s fucking life.
Chapter Eighteen
Sally glared at the digital clock beside the bed.Midnight. She reached out and slapped the top of the clock sharply. The darn thing must be broken. Time couldn’t possibly crawl that slowly. From somewhere in the covers behind her, a soft whimper sounded, and Sally held her breath.
Jen had gone to sleep as soon as her head plopped on the pillow, even though the girl had had the same traumatic day as Sally. Maybe meeting the grandfather she hadn’t known existed wasn’t as scary for her. After all, she hadn’t seen him with blood on his hands.
No, I’m not going to think about him. It’s enough to know he’s out of my life, and Jen’s, for good.
She’d been looking over her shoulder for so long, her watchful gaze scanning the faces in every crowd, she couldn’t stop her brain from replaying the unbelievable scene that had unfolded in Daniel and Ellen’s cabin that morning. Analyzing. Second-guessing. Doubting. Finally allowing herself to hope it might actually be true. She was a mess. No friggin’ wonder she couldn’t sleep. Where was Luke when a girl needed him?
A groan escaped her lips. As though things weren’t chaotic enough, she’d told Luke about Jen’s father, something only one other person in the world knew about, leaving out none of the dreadful details. He’d been angry. She could tell by the heat of his body and the way his jaw tightened. But he’d listened, asked a few questions and hadn’t tried to fix everything. That was a good sign. He always seemed to know the right things to say.
She slapped a hand over her eyes.Oh. My. God!She’d forgotten momentarily.Please…someone tell me I didn’t sayyesto his marriage proposal this morning in the middle of a scene right out ofThe Godfather.
