Dana Marton - Broslin Creek 05 - Broslin Bride (20 page)

“And you can’t let Mia run roughshod over Daisy. Daisy has to be heard too.”

“I already know that. I spend as much time with them as you do,” Jen said defensively.

That she was right filled Luanne with guilt. She pushed that aside. She was done with people bullying her with guilt. She needed to concentrate on survival. “Do we have to do this here? The shot will scare them. I don’t want them to be scared. Couldn’t we do it in the garage? You don’t want that kind of mess in your bedroom.”

“Why would you be in the garage? This makes more sense. You had a headache. You lay down. Gregory came in through the window.”

“How did he find me?”

“He followed you from home.”

“Chase would have seen him.”

“Nobody is infallible.” Jen was surprisingly calm, making it all up as she went. She was determined to get the girls and had committed to the cause.

Stall.
“How did he get up to the second-floor window?” Luanne asked, shifting another half a step closer to the bed.
 

“I’ll put up the ladder later.” Jen adjusted her finger on the trigger. “I don’t want to drag this out. Billy will be back in a minute.”

Luanne dove for the bed in the same second as Jen squeezed off a shot.

Chase’s voice filled the house the next instant, coming from outside, magnified by a bullhorn: “Jen O’Brian, come out with your hands in the air. We already have the children here safely.”

“Leave my kids alone!” Jen screamed and ran out of the room, thundering down the stairs.

Luanne stayed where she was, heart racing, limbs shaking, half under the bed, clutching the baseball bat.
Sweet Jesus. Did that just happen?
 

“Drop your weapon! Drop your weapon!” multiple voices shouted outside.

Then, a minute later, footsteps on the stairs, then Chase skidded into the room, dove for her, pulled her onto his lap, checked her over, his hands moving over her, following his darting gaze, his voice thick as he asked the single question: “Are you hurt?”

His gaze hung on her face as if his life depended on her answer.

“Only my pride.” Her heart pounded. “The kids?”

He touched his forehead against hers, grunting with relief. “Sitting in the back of my car, playing bank robbers.”

The last of the tension ran out of her.
Oh, thank God.
Her knees began to shake. How stupid was that, now that the scare was all over? Yet when she tried to push to her feet, she couldn’t quite stand.
 

Chase stashed his gun back in his shoulder holster and stood, pulling her up, then tugged her into his arms, against his mile-wide chest.

She snuggled her face into the crook of his neck, her heart still beating wildly.

“That little adventure just shaved ten years off my life,” he said, his tone rough. “Don’t ever do that again.”

“I promise not to be held at gunpoint by a psychopathic friend.” She groaned. “I can’t believe I missed all the signs. How could I suspect nothing?”

He pressed his lips to the top of her head. “It’s not how your mind works. You’re not criminally insane.”

His radio crackled, a disembodied voice telling people to stand down. They had the suspect in custody.

Luanne wrapped her shaking arms around Chase. “Thank you for coming for us.” She drew her lungs full of air. “It’s over now, right? All the way. I’ll be cleared of the charges?”

He nodded. “I still want you and the girls to move in with me.”

“We’re not in danger.”

“In a proper family, the mother and the father live together.”

Her head snapped up, and she stared at him.

“I like your voice,” he said with a lopsided smile. “It’s all velvety and stuff. Gets under my skin. Makes me think dirty thoughts, to be honest.”

“You’re marrying me because you like my voice?”

“You have other positive attributes.”

“Such as?”

“Fantastic boobs.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Chase Mortimer M—”

He kissed her. Lingered endlessly because, hey, when did he ever do anything in a hurry? He didn’t pull back until her brain was mush.

“I love you. We’re getting married,” he said mildly in that easygoing way of his. “I’ve already waited nearly an entire damned decade. I’m a patient man, but I’m not going to wait endlessly.”

“But…” She stammered.

“But what?”

“It’s so fast.”

He growled. “When I went slow, you wanted fast. Now I’m going fast, you want slow. Luanne Mayfair, are you trying to drive me crazy on purpose, or is it just a lucky side benefit as far as you’re concerned?”

Good grief, this day was turning out to be a doozy. She kept staring at him, her brain just plain overloaded.

He muttered something about “womanly mysteries.”

“We haven’t even dated yet.” She frowned. “You haven’t even proposed.”

A lazy smile twitched the corner of his lips. “I thought you didn’t like to drag things out.”

Huh.
She drew up an eyebrow. “If we’re getting married, you better not get into the habit of using my own words against me.”
 

“Definitely not on my list of habits I’m aiming to develop,” he promised.

“What habits
are
you aiming to develop?”
 

He leaned forward and dragged his lips against hers. “The habit of seducing my wife daily.” He picked her up into his arms. “The habit of spoiling her rotten.” And as he walked down the stairs, he listed a few more titillating others.

Epilogue

They were married at Broslin Chapel, two months later, the first Saturday the chapel was available. Jen was in jail awaiting trial. The judge had refused bail. Billy’s mother had moved in with them to take care of Bobby, the entire family bewildered by Jen’s actions.

They didn’t come to the wedding, but half of Broslin was there. Mia and Daisy sat in the first row, between Chase’s mother and Aunt Hilda, beaming from one woman to the other. Two grandmothers! For them, it was an embarrassment of riches.

Of course, Mia and Chase’s mom were talking to each other in hushed tones, keeping a running commentary. Anyone who didn’t know better would think they were related. Two peas in a pod. Daisy was holding Aunt Hilda’s hand, a beatific smile on her face, radiating quiet happiness.

Behind them, the Broslin PD filled up the entire pew, with girlfriends and spouses. Quite a few men in the chapel kept their eye on the new officer, the only female on the force, Gabriela Maria Flores, an inner-city cop Captain Bing had recently brought in.

She looked ridiculously beautiful without makeup and in a shapeless uniform. Seriously, with her height and cheekbones, the woman looked like she could sell Armani on a runway and kick ass while doing it.

“You may kiss the bride,” the minister said, and that was the last thing Luanne heard for a while, because the next second Chase’s lips sealed hers, and the world disappeared.

The man didn’t do anything halfway. Or hurried. She had no idea how much time passed before whistles and catcalls and shouted suggestions to get a room finally reached her consciousness. She pulled back, her face flushing. Chase didn’t seem the least abashed, on the other hand. A satisfied expression filled his handsome face.

“I love you, Mrs. Merritt,” he said.

“I love you, Mr. Merritt.” Her heart was full of him to bursting.

Before she knew what was going on, they were outside, showered with cheers, well-wishes, and rose petals. She’d vetoed the rice. Just couldn’t see food going to waste.

Chase escorted her to his decked-out police cruiser, the hood covered with white roses. Instead of rattling cans, somebody had tied two dozen handcuffs to the bumper.

She winced. She’d come too close to those for comfort. It’d be a while before they were funny for her. The judge had only recently decided not to try her for tampering with evidence. Crashing the Mustang hadn’t been her brightest idea ever. Her all-around exemplary behavior and volunteer record had luckily been considered as mitigating factors.

Chase was grinning at the handcuffs. Of course, he would be.

“Put them to good use!” a voice called from the crowd, Joe Kessler, Broslin’s very own ex-football-hero, now another detective at the Broslin PD.

“What do you think I am, a centipede?” Chase called back, and the crowd broke out in laughter. Then he added, “If you have to tie your woman down so she doesn’t run away, you’re doing something wrong, buddy.” And people laughed harder.

Then she was finally in the car, and Chase was pulling away from the curb, the whole scene like a fairy tale. Well, minus the rattling handcuffs. The Grimm brothers had somehow missed that.

Luanne was ridiculously happy, the kind of happiness she hadn’t even known existed, looking at Chase more than at their surroundings, all choked up and giddy. She kicked off her shoes that pinched a little, then gave a contented sigh. Her happiness was perfect.

“Sexy shoes,” Chase observed, stealing a glance at her bare feet. Every toenail was a different color, the twins’ contribution to getting her ready for her big day.

“Leila helped me pick them out.” Four-inch heels, the color a silvery, shimmery wonder that made her feel like she was wearing glass slippers. Unfortunately, they were about as comfortable. “I think they’re giving me blisters.”

Chase shook his head. “Word to the wise. Leila isn’t exactly an expert on sensible footwear. Steer away from her, or you’ll be wearing something pink and furry someday with hammer claws for heels.”

She laughed at the image.

“I’m not joking.”

“I know. That makes it even funnier.”

He drove to their new home, a splendid four-bedroom Victorian bought from Murph Dolan, a former Broslin police officer. The house had a brand-new kitchen, brand-new flooring, new bathrooms, new everything. Murph had begun the renovations, then one of Chase’s contractor friends finished it.

“When Murph sees this house, he’s so going to regret that he sold it,” she said as Chase turned off the engine.

Murph had followed the woman he’d fallen in love with into the witness protection program to keep her safe from an international assassin.

Aunt Hilda bought the fixer-upper when she’d moved to Broslin. The deal was, instead of going to a home, she’d get to live with Luanne and the girls. She insisted on buying a house, however, for them. Chase insisted on paying for the renovations since he was to live there as well, his bachelor pad not suitable for a large family.

“Murph is going to have his hands full,” Chase said as he came around and lifted her out of her seat so she wouldn’t have to put her shoes back on. He strode up the path with her to their gleaming new front door, with a little more hurry than his usual speed. “I’m glad he could come back. And that’s the last we’re going to talk about him today.”

With the assassin eliminated by Interpol, Murph and Kate were returning to town. They’d purchased twenty acres from Captain Bing’s old family farm and were building a rehab facility for soldiers with PTSD, called Hope Hill Acres. Big news for a small town like Broslin. New jobs. The facilities were already being built, along with housing for Murph and Kate so they could be in the middle of it all, overseeing the operations.

“Maybe I can get a job at Hope Hill when they get going. You think you could ask Murph?”

Chase opened the door and carried her over the threshold. “If you say Murph one more time, I’m going to be seriously jealous.”

Luanne grinned, loving the feel of his strong arms around her. “Can you give me an example of what jealousy might make you do?”

He narrowed his eyes as he closed the door behind them. “It could make me lose my mind and mercilessly ravish you this instant.”

“That Murph sure is a handsome fellow,” she said.

He carried her forward without another word.

“The kitchen island? Wait!” She squealed as he deposited her in the middle, pushed her knees apart, and stood between them, catching her face in his large hands.

“It’s a great island,” he said, his voice thick. “Nothing wrong with it. For any purpose. Hell of a nice kitchen. We’re going to have all our family meals here.”

“Right after I disinfect the counters,” she whispered, her voice suddenly weakening from his intent gaze.

“Yeah, well.” He flashed a lopsided smile. “We all know what a terror you are with the spray bottle.”

“Don’t you forget it.” She stared at his lips, inches from hers. “This house will be sanitary or else.”

His blue gaze deepened to nearly black. “I don’t suppose I could talk you into one of those little French maid outfits.” His voice was a ragged breath.

She couldn’t breathe at all, thinking about him peeling that French maid outfit off her. “We could negotiate.”

He growled.

She swallowed. “The girls and I have been talking about a puppy.”

“Pound. Eight a.m. tomorrow morning. It’s a date.” And then he held her face with one hand while he ravaged her mouth, his other hand shoving her dress all the way up to her waist.

Ooh.
 

The next second, his large hands were on her butt, and he pulled her hard against him, her most sensitive parts pressed against the impressive bulge in his tuxedo. And then the next second after that, everything was tingling, heat and need flooding through her body in waves.

His mouth mastered hers, claiming everything she had to give, while she peeled off his jacket and the cummerbund with fumbling fingers.

He didn’t fumble whatsoever. He pushed the straps of her wedding gown down her shoulders slowly, tracking kisses over to the crook of her neck, then lower.

He had this maddening hot method where he’d drag his lips over her skin first, lick it next, then rake his teeth against the sensitized skin while nibbling and tasting her. Her nerve endings were approaching total sensory overload with frightening speed.

Then he gently pushed his questing fingers into the cups of her dress, and with one smooth move popped her breasts free, the material supporting them from below lifting them for his lips. He looked, his dark blue eyes more intense than they’d ever been, for an endless moment, then he buried his face between her breasts and inhaled. “God, I love you. Just in every possible way.”