Head Over Heels (26 page)

“Yeah, I'd say we've earned that much. On the count of three, then.” Mouthing
One,
he held up a finger. Then he held up a second. On the third he let out a Rebel yell and charged down the alley, Eddie shouting at the top of his lungs behind him.

They cornered Neil Peavy, who had shrunk back against the wall and was waving his pocketknife at them on the far side of the dumpster.

“Look, he's armed and dangerous,” Coop said. “Dangerous, that is, if you happen to be a hundred-and-twenty-pound woman.” His hand whipped out and knocked aside Peavy's knife hand, then located a pressure point in the man's neck. He squeezed it, and the knife dropped from Peavy's fingers.

“You wanna get that, Eddie? Pick it up by the tip, or better yet with a handkerchief if you've got one. We wouldn't want to smudge those nice, clear fingerprints.” Then he looked into the face of the man who had set up his brother for a murder charge, and who'd threatened and terrorized Veronica—not to mention made her bleed—and felt the anger start to creep back in.

Something of what he felt must have shown in his eyes, because Peavy suddenly babbled, “You'd better call the police! Then I'm talking to my lawyer.”

“Or I could just dispense my own brand of justice, right here, right now, and save everyone a lot of time and trouble,” Coop said conversationally, applying more pressure yet. Peavy sagged to his knees. “It wouldn't be following the judicial process, exactly, but do you imagine anyone would really care? After all, for all the politicians who spout family values and hearth and home, Uncle Sam doesn't always practice what he preaches, does he? Take the selective services, for example. I can't speak for all of them, of course, but I do know the Marines like to snatch young boys from their mamas' apron strings—then turn them into trained killers. That's what they did for me.” He smiled coldly. “What do you say I demonstrate what they taught me? We'll save the taxpayers the hassle of prosecuting you.”

Eddie tapped him on the arm and jerked his chin toward the mouth of the alley. The sheriff and his deputy were entering it with their guns drawn.

Releasing Peavy, Coop raised both hands where the cops could see them, and catching their eye, made a subtle gesture to indicate that they give him a moment. Nodding, they moved slowly in his direction, and he looked down at the man on his knees at his feet. “Or,” he offered, “you can buy yourself some time by telling me how you framed my brother. You once mentioned that Eddie left his leather jacket in your office.”

Peavy's lip curled. “It's like he
wanted
to be framed. Crystal got a real charge out of me wearing it while I banged her brains out, I can tell you. She liked the irony of seeing it on the man the fool assumed was representing his interests.”

“So you were wearing it when you killed her?”

Peavy shrugged. “Like I'm going to incriminate myself,” he said, then regarded Coop with cold arrogance. “On the other hand…what the hell. Yeah, I had it on when I killed her—fat lot of good that will do you. You can tell the authorities whatever you damn well please, but once I assure them I would have admitted to anything when you threatened to kill me, who do you think they'll believe? The itinerant bartender brother of an accused murderer, or a respected attorney?”

“Well, I don't know. Let's ask the sheriff. Do you see me threatening to kill this man, sir?” Coop had the satisfaction of seeing horror dawn in Peavy's eyes when the sheriff stepped around the corner of the dumpster.

“Can't say that I do,” the sheriff said and reached past Coop to haul the lawyer to his feet. “Neil Peavy,” he intoned, “you're under arrest for the murder of Crystal Davis.” He read the rest of the Miranda warning, then turned to Eddie, who was being handcuffed by his deputy. “Under the circumstances, I'm sorry as can be about this, son. But there's a process we still need to follow before you can be released.”

Eddie merely smiled. “Hey, by all means, let's all go to jail.” He looked Peavy squarely in the eye. “The difference is that this time
I'll
be the one who'll walk out again.”

 

Several hours later, when all the red tape had finally been cut through and the charges against Eddie had been dropped, it was decided that Veronica should go into Marissa's first to prepare Lizzy for her father's return into her life. Marissa looked up with a huge grin
when Ronnie opened the kitchen door, but the kids, who sat at the breakfast bar eating dinner, barely glanced up. Dessa and Riley were in the midst of a spirited argument, and Lizzy watched them without much interest as she pushed her turkey noodle soup around her bowl with her spoon and drummed her heels disconsolately against the rung of her stool.

“Lizzy?” Veronica said. “I've got good news and better news, sweetie. Which would you like first?”

Her niece looked up without enthusiasm and shrugged. “I dunno. The good news, I s'pose.”

“We won't be moving you to Seattle after all.”

Lizzy's face lit up. “For real?”

“Absolutely. You'll be staying right here.”

The child's attention was clearly engaged now. “So, what's the better news, then?”

“There's someone here to see you.” Ronnie stepped aside, and tears filled her eyes at the undiluted joy that suffused Lizzy's face when Eddie walked through the doorway.

“Daddy!”
She launched herself from her chair.

“Hello, baby.” Eddie swooped her up in his arms, and Lizzy clung like velcro, her narrow little arms wrapped with frantic tightness about his neck. He pressed his cheek to the top of her head and closed his eyes as he inhaled a deep breath of his daughter's little-girl scent.

A warm hand cupped Veronica's nape. “How 'bout you and I slip away?” Coop suggested huskily in her ear. Without waiting for her response, he raised his voice and said, “Eddie, we're leaving you my car. We'll see you at the house tomorrow—or this evening, if you
wanna stop by to pick up anything of Lizzy's. Marissa, thanks for watching her.”

Then he turned Veronica around and guided her out the door.

She was so glad simply to be with Coop and so busy trying to get all of today's events straight in her mind that she didn't pay attention to where he was driving them until the car rolled to a stop in a deserted copse of birch trees alongside the river. “Oh, my gawd,” she breathed, looking around. “This is where everyone used to come to neck, back in high school.”

“So I've heard,” he agreed, reaching for her. “Seems appropriate.”

And hauling her in, he kissed the living daylights out of her.

Veronica wrapped her arms around his strong neck and kissed him back with everything she had. “God, Cooper,” she said when they came up for air. “I thought I'd never see you again—thought I'd never get to tell you how much I love you.” She cupped his lean jaw in her hands. “And I do, you know. I love you so much.”

“Yeah? Enough to marry me?” He held his breath.

“Absolutely,” she said. “Anytime, anyplace. Like I said earlier, I don't care what you do with the rest of your life…as long as you do it with me. In fact, bartending is a nice, portable skill. It might come in handy when my work moves me around.” Her smile faltered. “I'm sorry I made such a fuss about it before. You and I are not our parents, and if being threatened by Neil Peavy was good for nothing else, it drove that fact home and showed me what's really important in life.”

“Uh, about that.” Coop eyed her a bit warily as she sat back to give him her bright-eyed attention. He reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear. “About my employment situation—I, uh, actually do have a vocation.”

“You do? Other than bartending, you mean?”

“Yeah. I'm a writer.”

She blinked. “A what?”

“A writer, an author. I write novels under the name of James Lee Cooper.”

She was silent a moment as if digesting his news. Then her eyes widened. “
The Eagle Flies
James Lee Cooper?
Cause for Alarm
James Lee Cooper?”

“Yeah. You've read me?”

“For God's sake,” she said, her spine suddenly ruler-straight. “You're a famous author. Steven Spielberg made a
movie
from one of your books. And you let me think you were a ne'er-do-well without an ounce of ambition?”

He felt a silly grin stretch his mouth. “Ne'er-do-well. There's an expression you don't hear every day.”

She smacked him on the arm, not amused. “You must have laughed yourself silly over my pitiful insecurities!”

That wiped the smile from his face. “Believe me, sweetpea, I didn't find a damn thing amusing about either of our insecurities.”

“I could kill you, Cooper Blackstock.”

“No, you couldn't.” He reached for her again. “You love me to pieces, and you're probably so relieved I have an honest-to-God job you could sing.” He bent his head to kiss the angle of her jaw. “And admit it,” he murmured. “You've read me.”

She turned up her nose. “Maybe.”

“Maybe, hell. You've read me. And what's more, I bet you thought my stuff was great.”

She shrugged, but tipped her head back to allow his lips to roam down her throat. “You were okay.”

He laughed. “You don't give an inch, do you? I always liked that about you.” When she grinned at him in return, he cupped her elegant little chin in his hand and raised his head to stare down into her eyes.

“Veronica Davis,” he said, “I love you to pieces. And I'm telling you right now, my bossy little darlin': You and I are going to have ourselves one hell of a fun marriage.”

“Yeah,” she agreed as she snuggled in. “I do believe we will.”

“I
CAN
'
T
BELIEVE ANOTHER GOOD MAN
'
S
ABOUT TO
bite the dust.”

Coop grinned at Zach Taylor and rocked his kitchen chair back on two legs. His friend had come out from North Carolina to be his best man the day after tomorrow, and this was the first free minute they'd had to kick back since his arrival. Coop saluted him with his beer bottle. “Well, hey, now, let me think about this. A lot of laughs, intelligent conversation, regular lovin'. That's not biting the dust, Midnight; that's the good life. You oughtta try it yourself sometime—I can highly recommend it.”

“No, thanks. I've got Glynnis. That's about as close to having responsibility for someone of the female persuasion as I care to get.”

“How is your baby sister?”

“Same old, same old. Still falling for the wrong guys and spending all my money.”

Coop gave the ceiling a crooked smile. “Could be worse. At least you've got the money for her to spend.”

“I sure wish she'd learn to handle her own, though. Jesus, Ice, she's gonna come into her trust soon. I break out in a cold sweat just thinking about it. If she's not overdrawing her bank account, she's handing her money out to every fast talker with a sad story to tell. And that's just with the interest she's given to live on. I don't even wanna think about the damage one of those jokers she dates could do to the principal.” Zach took a sip of his beer, then shrugged and gave Coop a look over the long-necked bottle. “But enough of my problems. It sure looks like you got yourself a winner.”

“Yeah.” Coop felt a silly grin stretch his lips and didn't even care. “I never knew it was possible to feel this way about a woman. She makes me—”

The back door opened with a bang as it bounced off the wall, and the woman under discussion blew in on the wind that had grabbed it out of her hand. Veronica laughed and kicked the door closed behind her.

“Sorry about that. I should have made two trips from the car instead of trying to carry all this stuff in one. No, don't get up,” she said as the men started to lower their chairs back on all four legs. “I'm just going to dump everything right here.”

“Lizzy and Dess had their final fitting for their flower girl dresses today,” Veronica said as she pulled steaks for tonight's dinner from a sack. “Wait until you see them. Talk about cuter than cute.”

She listened to the men talk as she put away the
groceries and smiled to herself, feeling the weight of Coop's gaze on her more than once. The thrill of being the recipient of all his love and attention just kept growing stronger.

Finishing up a few moments later, she grabbed herself a beer out of the fridge and carried it over to the table where the men sat.

Zach wasn't quite as tall as Coop, but he had the same look of honed muscularity and tough competency about him. Physically, they were a study in contrasts, and Ronnie imagined that seeing the two of them walk into a joint side by side must have set more than one woman's heart to pitty-patting. “You two remind me of Snow White and Rose Red.”

They stared at her with identical looks of outraged masculinity, and she threw back her head and laughed. “That's not a slam on your manliness, fellas—God knows there's enough testosterone in here to drown a cat. I meant your coloring. It's a cool contrast—Zach's hair is as dark as your eyebrows, Coop.” She met the other man's pale gray eyes. “Is that how you got the handle Midnight?”

“No. I'm good in the dark.”

Even crazy in love with Coop, she wasn't one hundred percent immune to that deep voice or the sight of the little scar that bisected his upper lip, and her own lips quirked in amusement. “Somehow I don't doubt that for a minute.”

He grinned at her, a flash of white teeth in a face as tanned as Coop's had been when they'd first met. “I can see why Ice is so crazy about you, lady. But what I meant was, I have exceptional night vision.”

“Oh.” This time Ronnie's amusement was directed at herself.

“Coop tells me the two of you are going to make your home here.”

“Yeah, isn't that a kick in the pants? Fossil was the last place I wanted to be—and here we discover we both really like it. Not to mention the bonus of staying close to Eddie and Lizzy.” And to Marissa and the kids, too. “Oh, God, that reminds me.” She turned to Coop. “I got a nibble on the Tonk today, and you'll never in a million years guess who it's from.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her.

“Darlene Starkey!”

Slowly he lowered his chair. “You're kidding. I can't quite see her tending bar.”

“She doesn't plan to. But apparently she's convinced the Tonk is a hotbed of information. And you know how she adores being the first to know anything.” She inspected the nice buff job on her nails for a moment before shooting him a satisfied little three-corner smile. “So who was I to dissuade her from the notion?”

Coop grinned. “Come here and give me a kiss. You're just too damn cute.” His voice was teasing, but as he looked at her, his smile slowly faded and his eyes went hot.

Zach set his bottle on the table and climbed to his feet. “I don't mean to drink and run, but there's a James Lee Cooper story upstairs calling my name.”

Veronica blinked, and gave Zach a brilliant smile. “Don't you just love that guy's books? By all means, don't let us keep you. We'll see you at dinner.”

The moment he cleared the door, though, she grimaced. “We've gotta get a grip on these hormones, Cooper. I think we drove him away.”

“Get a grip, hell.” Coop half rose from his seat to reach out and grasp her wrist. He tugged, and she rounded the table to sit in his lap. He immediately wrapped her in his arms and buried his face in her neck, inhaling deeply. He raised his face and gave her a sleepy smile. “Everyone can just get used to it,” he said. “Because, Princess, this boy's head over heels. And if they think a demand for a kiss in my own kitchen is too much…” He shrugged. “All I've got to say is, there's going to be a lot of offended folks in town. Because, sweetpea, they ain't seen nothing yet.”