AdonisinTexas (15 page)

It was an easy call to make, now that Ginger had seen the
vulnerability Lydia had hidden behind her holier-than-thou attitude.

“You’re not seeing the bigger picture, Ginger.”

“Then tell me what it is.”

She let out an exasperated sigh. “I don’t approve of
promiscuity and pre-marital sex because I don’t want girls like you and Liza
Brooks making the same mistake I did. All I can think is that the reason God
won’t grace me with a child is because I got pregnant when I was eighteen and
unwed.”

Releasing Lydia’s arms, Ginger raised hers in the air and
proclaimed, “Lydia, that could happen to any eighteen-year-old, unwed woman!
And whether she loses the baby or not could have absolutely nothing to do with
divine intervention. Furthermore, your inability to have children could be
physical or biological—not God’s punishment. I mean, have you and Jonathan even
seen a specialist about this?”

Her shoulders tensed. “No, we have not. I wouldn’t subject
him to that after all we’ve been through.”

“So you latched onto the easiest explanation and then cast
your condemnation of your own actions onto others in town.” Ginger shook her
head. “Shame on you. And for the record, Liza and I are not girls. We’re
sensible women in love, Lydia. For better or for worse.”

Lydia’s shocked expression over Ginger’s outburst turned
challenging. “Really?” she demanded. “For better
or
for worse?”

Ginger’s own self-righteous bubble burst. Planting her hands
on her hips, she engaged in the sort of standoff with Lydia that involved a
whole lot of staring and a monumental amount of self-assessment.

Lydia did not back down.

Endless moments passed until Ginger took a stand. It was
time. “Yes,” she said in a strong voice. “Ryan wants to chase after bad guys
and make this town a safer place. And I have to support him, because I love
him.”

“Indeed,” Lydia said with a nod. And a surprising hint of
approval. She whisked away the rest of her tears and added, “Well, then. I
suppose we ought to wait this ordeal out the way families should—together.”

Ginger brushed a few fresh drops from her own cheeks. “I
suppose you’re right.” She returned to the cashier’s desk and wrapped up
Lydia’s purchases. Then they locked the door behind them and crossed the street
to the diner.

Jonathan stood as they joined everyone at a large table by
the window. He said, “I was about to come get you two.” His gaze shifted from
Ginger to Lydia. “Is everything all right?”

“It’s fine,” his wife assured him as she set her shopper’s
bag on the floor and took the seat next to him.

Ginger sat across from the reverend and next to Jack. “Any
word?” she asked.

The dismal look on Jack’s face alarmed her. He said,
“Madeline has some news.”

Ginger’s gaze moved to the woman sitting beside Lydia. The
police dispatcher said, “Connor Jenkins relieved me a little while ago, and
when I was collecting my things and getting ready to head out, he got a call
from Mark Davis who said he’d heard gunshots on his property.”

The air around Ginger seemed to compress. Her stomach
twisted again.

Jack dropped a comforting arm around her shoulders and
Jonathan placed his hand over hers as it rested on the table. Lydia covered
Jonathan’s hand, which drew a few curious stares from the group—and great,
albeit silent, interest from her husband.

Madeline continued. “There’s an abandoned hunter’s cabin on
Mark’s property, which he’s never done a thing with, since he doesn’t hunt. It
was built by the previous owner. The sheriff suspects that’s where the robbers
are holed up. The posse’s heading that way now.”

“Reverend,” Liza said, “I never thought I’d say this to you,
but perhaps a prayer is in order.”

Ginger’s heart nearly stopped.

Chapter Eight

Ryan met up with Sheriff Johnson, Dan and Miller on the
outskirts of town. They’d all learned of the gunshots heard on Mark’s property
and the sheriff said, “I’ll take Dan and Miller in the SUV. Ryan, I want you to
head back into town and keep up your patrol, in case we discover it’s just a
couple of kids causing trouble on Mark’s property, shootin’ up aluminum cans.”

Dan and Miller transferred their additional weaponry to the
SUV. Ryan glanced back at his cruiser, then said to the sheriff, “I’d like to
go with you.”

“Not this time. It could be dangerous.”

“That’s part of my job,” he argued. “I wasn’t expecting it
to be smooth sailing.”

With a nod, Sheriff Johnson said, “I appreciate your
dedication and you’re enthusiasm. But you don’t have any experience with this
sort of thing yet.”

Ryan eyed the two deputies. Then he said, “With all due
respect, sir, have Dan and Miller seen this kind of trouble before?”

The older man frowned. But he couldn’t dispute the obvious.
“We’ve had some scuffles in town, but no. We don’t get armed robbers in Wilder
as a rule. But, Ryan,” he was quick to add, “Dan and Miller have dealt with
situations that had the potential to escalate into something dangerous for all
parties involved.”

“I know I’m green, but I’m well trained and I won’t go off
half-cocked. I’ll do exactly as you tell me to, sir. If you’ll give me a chance
to prove myself.”

The sheriff hedged. Ryan’s anxiety mounted. He wasn’t
looking to get himself shot, but this was his chosen profession. And, as he’d
said, hunting down armed criminals was part of the job.

Finally, the sheriff said, “We’re wasting time. Leave the
cruiser here and come with us.” The four men climbed into the SUV and the
sheriff told them, “We’ll stakeout the ridge above Mark’s land. The whole area
is wooded, so we’ll move in from above, on foot, and see what’s what in the
cabin.”

“There are trails that lead down to the valley where the
cabin sits,” Dan announced. “As long as we’re not spotted, we can get right up
close and personal without a vehicle.”

Ryan certainly didn’t relish the idea of confronting the
thieves, but he wanted them caught and was determined to do what he could to
ensure it happened.

They parked a ways back from the ridge, where the forest
turned dense and the SUV couldn’t navigate the foliage and fallen trees. Armed
and wearing their Kevlar vests, they made their way to the bluff overlooking
the hunter’s cabin, tucked into the woods.

The sheriff surveyed the area with his binoculars, then
scowled. “Shot the hell out of the shed.” He took another look around and said,
“Dan, run this plate.” He gave a number his deputy scribbled on a small pad of
paper. While Dan returned to the SUV and the laptop inside it that would
provide all the information they needed, the sheriff said, “Black sedan. Buick.
Mid-nineties, I suspect. Parked right out in the open. These guys aren’t too bright.”

Neither Ryan nor Miller dared mention they’d managed to rob
three people and make off with hundreds of dollars in cash, food and supplies,
countless other amounts in jewelry, a gun and a full tank of gas.

When Dan returned, he said of the car, “Reported stolen in
Ft. Worth almost two weeks ago.”

“Bingo,” the sheriff said. He walked back to the SUV, stowed
the binoculars and loaded his shotgun. “Let’s bring these guys in.”

Ryan’s adrenaline spiked. He wasn’t suicidal by any stretch
of the imagination, especially when a pretty, petite blonde waited for him back
in town. Regardless of Ginger’s reservations, he’d already convinced himself he
could win her back. He just had to keep from getting his head blown off.

They made their way down to the valley, using the thick
patches of forest and shrubbery to conceal themselves. A good hundred yards
from the cabin, they stopped and listened for any sort of activity. All seemed
quiet on the home front.

Sheriff Johnson said in a low voice, “Miller and I will take
the entrance. Dan, you cover the back. Try to get beneath that window we were
looking at without being noticed. Ryan, take cover behind that cord of wood by
the shed. They might make a run for it out the backdoor.”

The deputies nodded and the group dispersed, moving as
swiftly as possible. Ryan and Dan were the youngest and stealthiest. Sheriff
Johnson wove his way easily through the overgrown bushes until Ryan lost sight
of him. Miller was a bit hindered by his age and the fact he was no longer in
prime physical condition. The two men storming the front would likely force the
robbers out the back, or the window, as the sheriff banked on, and Ryan
positioned himself behind the woodpile, carefully peeking around the stack to
keep an eye on the cabin. His gun drawn, he was poised and ready for whatever
came his way.

That did not, however, keep his pulse from raging so loudly
in his ears it was a wonder he could hear the sheriff shout out his warning to
the thieves before the splintering of wood echoed in the quiet valley. He’d
likely busted down the door with his foot.

Ryan’s gaze never left the backdoor, but he was cognizant of
his surroundings and so focused, he could see even the slightest of movements
out of his peripheral vision. While two shots rang out from inside the cabin,
he saw the burly redhead, who’d been sprawled across Ginger several days ago,
lumber toward the shed from the north side. Not an effective hideout, so
perhaps the sheriff was right. These guys might not be too bright.

Dan popped his head up and assessed the situation in the
cabin through the window, then signaled to Ryan all was well. In turn, Ryan
gestured toward the shed, and they both made their move in that direction, his
heart thundering in his chest.

There was a window along the south wall of the shed, the
latter of which had holes blown into its sides, apparently from target
practice—or sheer boredom. The glass pane had been shot up too, and was a mess
of jagged angles. Ryan crept along one side of the cabin as Dan went in the opposite
direction, toward the door.

When Dan yelled, “Sheriff’s office, hands up!” a large
wooden box came flying through the window, above Ryan’s head.

Shards rained down on him and he used his arms to shield
himself, though he felt a few slices from the glass along his forearms and
biceps. Seconds later, the burly redhead dove out the window, landing right in
front of Ryan.

The robber was on his feet a heartbeat later. Dan called out
from the other side of the window, “He’s not armed!”

Ryan ignored the blood and the pain from his wounds and
holstered his gun. He jumped to his feet and only needed four long strides to
catch up to the redhead. He lunged forward and tackled the robber, using the
precise move he’d employed with the redhead’s cohort on Friday night. He
gripped the thief’s arm and pulled it behind his back, shoving it upward until
the robber cried out in agony.

“That’s for Ginger,” Ryan ground out. “From now on, keep
your hands to yourself.”

* * * * *

“Ginger, try to eat something,” Jess said.

“I’m really not hungry,” she countered as she picked at the
slab of meatloaf and the mountain of mashed potatoes Melodie had set before her
half an hour ago. Ginger pushed the food around her plate with a fork as she
stole glances out the window.

She wished Madeline hadn’t gone back to the sheriff’s
office. Though the dispatcher wanted to stay abreast of the situation, she
wasn’t calling anyone at the diner to share news. Which likely meant there was
no news to report, but still… If Madeline had stayed, she could have
immediately shared any new information, had she gotten word from Conner Jenkins
about what was happening outside of town. If that was where the sheriff’s posse
was still located.

The sun set and twilight descended upon Wilder. Then dusk
settled in and Ginger’s nerves were so frayed, she dropped her fork on her
plate and pushed it aside. The pensive group surrounding her didn’t help her
plight any. Even the reverend had a worried look on his face.

Ginger resisted the urge to bit her nails as the time passed.
When the table had been cleared and the small talk had died, she thought she’d
go half out of her mind agonizing over whether or not Ryan was okay.

Finally, Jack gave her a smile and said, “Just hang tight,
darlin’. I’m sure—”

“Oh my God!” she suddenly shrieked as she leapt to her feet,
knocking over her chair. “There’s Ryan.” She’d caught a glimpse of him out of
the window.

Without a second thought, she ran out of the diner and raced
across the street. She launched herself into his arms again, the way she had
earlier. Only this time, it was out of sheer relief.

Though he held her tightly, he winced. She pulled back.
“What is it? Are you hurt?”

Panic seized her insides. He’d changed into jeans and a
long-sleeved, button shirt in burgundy. The tense look on his face dissolved as
he gave her a sexy grin.

“I’m just fine, sweetheart. ‘Specially now that I’m looking
at you.”

“Tell me seriously,” she implored, tears flooding her eyes.
“Are you okay?”

“Few cuts Dan already cleaned up and bandaged for me. Nothing
worth a trip to the emergency room, I assure you.”

She breathed a sigh of relief and swiped at the fat drops
rolling down her cheeks. “What happened?”

The others had filed out of the diner and gathered around.

Ryan said, “Our thieves have been apprehended. One shot in
the leg, thanks to the sheriff. The other went down a bit easier. Tackled him.”
He winked at Ginger.

More tears flowed and she flung her arms around his neck
again. He held her tightly as everyone congratulated and thanked him. When he
finally let go of Ginger, he said, “I already typed up my report. I’m ready to
call it a night.”

“Yeah,” she said. “Me too.” Her nerves were shot, after all.

The group dispersed, leaving Ginger and Ryan on the
sidewalk. He lifted her hands to his mouth and kissed the backs of them. Then
he asked, “Willing to take in a stray, sweetheart?”

Her heart melted. She sniffled from her crying jag, but
managed to say, “If it’s of the six-foot-two-inch, Adonis-like variety.”

Ryan chuckled.

In a more serious tone, Ginger added, “I know I said I
couldn’t do this. I don’t know how I’d survive it if something happened to you.
But the truth is… I can’t be without you either way. So, yes. Come stay with
me.”

He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her passionately,
right there on Main Street for everyone to see.

When they came up for air, she said in a breathless tone,
“Everything you do is so over the top, Ryan Bain.”

He grinned at her. “Liked the flowers, did ya?”

“That bouquet is one for the Wilder history books.”

“And what about the card?”

She pulled away. “Oh darn it. I never got the chance to read
it. What’d it say?”

He gave her a coy look as he told her, “I know we agreed to
not make any premature declarations, but Ginger Monroe, I am very much in love
with you—and felt compelled to tell you as much on that card. And in person.”

Her insides lit up brighter than a Wilder night sky on the
Fourth of July. She couldn’t contain her smile. Or her feelings. “And I am very
much in love with you, Ryan Bain.”

“Well, then. I guess it doesn’t matter what anyone has to
say about me kissing you on a street corner.” And he did it again—much to
Ginger’s delight.