Here Comes Trouble (29 page)

He paused on the top step. “My best friend holds you at gunpoint and you’re telling me you’re sorry?”

“It’s…sad. He’s…he’s not a well man. It’s not your fault, Brett. I know you’re going to think you could have done something to prevent this but you couldn’t possibly know if he hadn’t told you.”

She opened the door and he came inside, but before they could say anything else to each other, Thad stuck his head through the kitchen door. “Your turn. We need your statements.”

Kirby slipped her hand in Brett’s as they stepped inside. It was that small but monumental thing that brought everything into crystal clarity for him.

He tightened his grip, squeezing her hand, wanting to say so many things to her. But first they had to get through the rest of this.

In retelling their story to the police, it settled things inside Brett’s mind, if not his heart. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen to Dan. The only piece of good news was that Maks was actually going to be okay. Apparently Mr. Big’s skills didn’t extend to the medical field. He’d missed the pulse because he’d been checking in the wrong place. So, while Dan still faced some very serious charges, thank God one of them wasn’t going to be manslaughter.

Morning light was starting to creep over the horizon, the sky as gray as his emotions, as they watched the last squad car pull out from the front driveway. Kirby shivered as they stood, arms around each other’s waist, on the front porch.

“What happens next?” she asked quietly.

“I don’t honestly know anymore, Kirby. I just don’t know.” He was past angry and sad. By now, he just felt…hollow. His whole world had been turned upside down…for good. Then flipped over again with this.

Then she turned in his arms, slid both of hers around his waist. She looked as tired as he felt, but her gaze was steady, her voice certain. “We’ll figure out what’s best to do. For him. For you.”

Brett touched her face, humbled by this woman. But never more certain about where he was supposed to be. “I thought you’d have me packed and out of here. I’m so sorry, Kirby. I didn’t know. I’d have never…” He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to hers, trying to shut out the memories of the night before. “When I thought you might be in trouble…I haven’t been that terrified since I was a kid.”

“I was okay. I was talking to him. I didn’t think he’d hurt me. He was just…mixed up, and hurt, and confused. He’s going to need help. More than legal help, I mean.”

Brett nodded, then squeezed his eyes more tightly shut as another thought hit him.

“What?” she asked gently, pulling him closer and touching his cheek as she lifted his head up.

“Dan’s dad. This…it’ll break him. I—I should call him.”

“I think they’re already doing that. I heard one of the deputies say they were trying to reach him.”

Brett swore under his breath. “How in the hell did it get that out of hand and I didn’t know? I don’t miss much, Kirby. And I completely missed this. He’s the closest friend I have, and I never saw it. I was so wrapped up in my own crap, I never—”

“Hey,” she said, framing his face. “You tried to help him and he was too stubborn, too full of pride, to accept the kind of help that would have put him back on the right path. He’s a grown man. He could have chosen the smarter, safer path, even if it meant swallowing his pride. He’s the only one to blame here. Not you.”

She’d said it quite fiercely, and that, more than anything, cut through his grief and got his attention.

“Brett, we’ll figure out how best to help him, if we can, but he’s got to help himself now. You do know that?”

He nodded and then held her face in his hands. “We?” he asked.

She held his gaze. “We.”

He pulled her tightly into his arms and buried his face in her hair. “When I thought I might lose you, that you might be hurt…” He pushed her back enough to look in her eyes. “I don’t want to ever lose you.”

And though there was still the residual pain and ache from the toll the evening had taken, her mouth smoothed, then finally curved. It was a smile of confidence. And of hope. “That’s good, because the man I want is the man I saw today. Who didn’t back down when things were hard. The hardest, maybe. Who wanted to protect me…and a lifelong friend. We’re both misfits, of sorts, you and me, you know that. From backgrounds that weren’t easy. But I think that’s what makes us strong. And what makes us value what we have, what we’ve earned. I think that’s why we fit, you and me, almost from the moment you climbed off that bike.”

“You do fit me, Kirby.”

“Are you still planning on staying here? I mean, with Dan’s stuff and—”

“I’m not going anywhere. You’re right, we’ll figure out what we can do for him. For his dad. The company, whatever that might take. But this is where I belong now.” He pulled her up close and hiked her up into his arms so their faces were even. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he held her tightly against him. “And one thing I’m not going to do is just play house with you, Kirby. I want to marry you. And I don’t want to wait ten years. Or maybe even ten days. I love you, Kirby Farrell. And I want the whole world to know you’re mine.”

Now the smile did come, shining through tears. But they were tears of joy this time. She wrapped her legs around his hips as he swung her around on the porch.

“Is that a yes?”

“I already told you. I’m all in, Brett. I’ve never been a gambler, but I’d bet on you. Every time.”

“Well, maybe you’ve heard, but I’m one lucky son of a bitch. I don’t like to lose.”

“You’re not going to lose me.”

She slid one hand to his cheek and rubbed her thumb across his lips, making him shudder…and forget every damn thing except this moment. And her.

“I love you, too,” she said. “So, marry me, Brett Hennessey. Because I think I’m one lucky son of a bitch, too. Look!” she exclaimed, pointing behind him.

He turned them both around to see that it had begun to snow. Hard. If the thick, white flakes were any indication, it didn’t look like it was something that was going to let up anytime soon.

“The Hennessey Fortune Factor,” she murmured. “Ha!”

“You are all the good fortune I need,” he said, then kissed her, hard, before he carried her back inside the house. They’d both go down to the station later, find out what came next, what could be done. But for right now, he was going to celebrate life. New life. New dreams. His dreams.

Their dreams.

“Mind if we start the honeymoon part a little early?” he asked.

“I thought we already had,” she said, then squealed as he put her over his shoulder and took the stairs two at a time.

They were both laughing as they landed on his bed. Their bed.

And as he slowly peeled off her clothes and started to make love to the woman who was going to be his wife…somewhere out in the white swirl of the dawn snow, they heard cats howling in unison.

They both paused and looked at each other.

“I’m going to take that as a good sign,” Kirby said cautiously.

“I’m going to reinforce the screen on that door.”

Kirby laughed. “Later.”

Brett pulled her under him, felt her arch up, naturally moving with him as he slid deep into her. “Yeah,” he said. “Later is good. Now come here my soon-to-be wife and let’s see if I can make you howl.”

And he did.

“S
ure thing, Mr. Deverill. Dev,” she corrected, unable to keep the goofy, girlish smile off her face as she cradled the phone between her chin and shoulder and typed in his request to book his room for an additional week. “Will you be needing me to send someone to pick you up after the game is over? Fine, okay. Will do.” She hung up the phone and glanced over at the small television set she’d brought in from the kitchen and hooked up at the front desk.

ESPN was covering the third annual Brett Hennessey Foundation poker tournament out at the resort. She smiled with ridiculous pride as she watched her husband sitting in the booth with the announcers, calling the play. She watched with particular interest as they talked about the young Irish player, Iain Summerfield. In the past three years, he’d become something of a new sensation and was threatening to topple some of Brett’s long-standing records. Brett was not only not bothered by this, he seemed kind of excited for the kid.

Vanetta came around the corner just then and Kirby dragged her gaze away from the action. “I need to see if we can get Tommy to head over to the resort to pick up Dev. He’s already out of the tournament, but he just called to extend his stay.” Her smile turned a bit cheeky. “I think there’s a certain French ski team racer who caught his eye.”

Vanetta fanned her face with her hand. “If I was only a few years younger, I’d show that scamp what a real woman could do.”

Kirby laughed, as she often did when she spent any time around the older woman. Vanetta had come east during Dan’s trial and had never gotten around to going back. Brett had ended up setting up another management company out west to run her boarding house. He’d tried to talk Dan into sticking around, too, but he and his father had ended up in Palm Springs, both wanting a fresh start without the past haunting them. Brett respected their need for privacy and kept his shadow from looming anywhere over them, but he still kept in contact, and Kirby thought that someday, if he had anything to say about it, they’d find their way back to a solid relationship.

Vanetta had turned out to be a godsend to them both, managing a good part of the day-to-day business of the inn while Kirby helped Brett with his flourishing home rehabbing business. Kirby had found a profound happiness there, working side by side with Brett, indulging her own creativity that fulfilled her in a way she’d never thought possible. They’d never formally hired Vanetta on; she’d just sort of worked her way into their lives. By now Kirby couldn’t imagine what she’d do without her.

“Why don’t you head on over to the resort,” Vanetta was saying, turning the TV around so she could watch. “Go see that handsome husband of yours, and bring Mr. Dev back yourself. I can hold the fort down. Besides, looks like another storm is coming. Supposed to be another record snow year.” She rubbed her elbows. “Might be time for a bit of buttered rum. Keep the joints working,” she grumbled. As she always did during the winter season. Brett had tried to talk her into staying out west during the cold months, to which she’d frostily replied, “What, and leave this place to fall down around your ankles?”

They both knew that Vanetta was happiest when she was working, or tending to something. And what she most wanted to tend to was the two of them. They were family. Even Aunt Frieda had started to make routine visits, which had gotten longer and longer each fall season.

What a family they’d become, Kirby thought as she scooted out from behind the desk, barely missing tripping over Elvira. Barn cat turned loyal companion. She’d never left that night after they’d taken Dan away. She’d caught Brett feeding her out back, and after a while, she’d just kind of ended up staying. So far she hadn’t attacked a single guest.

Kirby slapped her thigh and whistled for Elvis. The big, lumbering mutt trotted out from her office and then perked right up when he saw her slipping on her coat. Brett had found him on the side of the road by the first farmhouse they’d rehabbed. He’d been a permanent guest ever since.

She gave his head a good scratch and then gave Vanetta a quick hug. Always discombobulated the older woman, which was half the reason why she did it. “I think I saw Clemson hanging around the foyer,” she told her. “Maybe he’d like to join you for that buttered rum,” she added with a wink as she snagged the truck keys from the front board, where they hung next to Brett’s bike keys. And her own bike keys.

“Old coot,” Vanetta grumbled. “Can’t find something better to do than to get in my way.” But Kirby caught her patting at her hair as she walked into the foyer.

She grinned to herself as she opened the front door and headed out to her truck, Elvis trotting by her side. It started snowing again. Big fat flakes swirling through the air. She stuck her tongue out, letting a few land there and melt, and raced Elvis to the truck.

She climbed in and pulled the seat belt across her lap, then laid a protective hand on her slowly burgeoning belly. A medical miracle, her OB had called it. But, at forty-three, all was going blissfully, almost ridiculously well. By the end of summer, there’d be another permanent guest at the inn.

Yep, the Hennessey Fortune Factor was still going strong.

If you liked this book,
you’ve got to try Mary Wine’s
IN THE WARRIOR’S BED,
out now from Brava!

S
he was a fool.

Bronwyn felt her heart freeze, because the man was huge. The hilt of his sword reflected the last of the daylight. His stallion was a good two hands taller than her mare. It could run her down with no trouble at all. Worse yet, the man wore the kilt of the McJames clan. With her father and brothers raiding their land, he had no reason to treat her kindly. His body was cut with hard muscles, and where his shirt sleeves were rolled up, she saw the evidence that spoke of his firsthand knowledge and skill with that sword. She scanned the ridge above him quickly, fearing that the McJameses had decided to repay her father’s raids by doing a few themselves.

But there was no one in the fading light. Her teeth worried her lower lip as she returned her attention to him. She’d never considered that a McJames warrior might enjoy an afternoon ride the same as she.

“Good day to ye, lass.” His voice was deep and edged with playfulness. He reached up and tugged on the corner of his knitted bonnet, a half smile curving his lips. His light-colored hair brushing his wide shoulders, a single thin braid running down along the side of his face to keep it out of his eyes. He wore only a leather doublet over his shirt and the sleeves of the doublet were hanging behind him. There was a majestic quality to him. One that was mesmerizing. Her brother Keir was a very large man and she wasn’t used to meeting men who measured up to his size. This one did. He radiated strength from his booted feet to his blond hair. There was nothing small or weak about him. In his presence she felt petite, something she was unaccustomed to. Almost as though she noticed that she was a woman and that her body was fashioned to fit against his male one.

“Good day.”

She had no idea why she spoke to him. It was an impulse. A shiver raced down her back. Her eyes widened, heat stinging her cheeks, her mouth suddenly dry. A shudder shook her gently, surprising her. Beneath her doublet, her nipples tingled, the sensation unnerving.

His gaze touched on her face, witnessing the scarlet stain creeping across it. A flicker of heat entered his eyes. It was bold but something inside her enjoyed knowing that she sparked such a look in him.

“It’s a fine day for riding.”

His words were innocent of double meaning, but Bronwyn drew in a sharp breath because her mind imagined a far different sort of riding. Her own thoughts shocked her deeply. She’d never been so aware of just what a man might do with a woman when they were alone, and now was the poorest time for her body to be reacting to such things. It felt as though he could read her mind. At least the roguish smile he flashed her hinted that he could. His lips settled back into a firm line. She had to jerk her eyes away from them but that left her staring into his blue eyes. Hunger flickered there and her body approved. Her nipples drew tight, hitting her boned stays.

“Ye shouldna look at me like that, lass.” He sounded like he was warning himself more than her, but her blush burned hotter because he was very correct.

“Nor should ye look at me as ye are.”

A grin split his lips, flashing a hint of his teeth. “Ye have that right. But what am I to do when ye stand there so tempting? I’m merely a man.”

And for some reason she felt more like a woman than she ever had. Something hot and thick flowed through her veins. There was no thinking about anything. Her body was alive with sensations, touching off longings she’d thought deeply buried beneath the harsh reality of her father’s loathing to see her wed.

“A man who is far from his home.” Her gaze touched on his kilt for a moment, the blue, yellow, and orange of the McJames clan holding her attention. “I’m a McQuade.”

“I figured that already, but its nae my clan that keeps us quarrelling.”

He let his horse close the distance again. The mare didn’t move now, she stood quivering as the large stallion made a circle around her. The same flood of excitement swept through Bronwyn, keeping her mesmerized by the man moving around her. Bronwyn shook her head, trying to regain her wits.

“But I’m thinking that we just might be able to get along quite nicely.” His eyes flickered with promise. “Ye and I.”

“Ye should go. Ye’re correct that it is my clansmen that seek trouble with the McJameses. Ye shouldna give them a reason to begin a fight.”

“And ye would nae see that happen? I’m pleasantly surprised.”

His stallion was still moving in a circle around her. Bronwyn had to twist her neck to keep him in sight. Every time he went behind her, her body tightened, every muscle drawing taut with anticipation. Such a response defied everything that she knew.

“Surprised that I’ve no desire to see blood spilt? Being a McJames does not mean I am cruel at heart. What is yer name?” he asked.

Fear shot through her, ending her fascination with him. Being the laird’s daughter meant she was a prize worth taking. Riding out alone so far had been a mistake she just might pay for with her body. Few would believe her if she told them her father wouldn’t pay any ransom for her. Beyond money, there were men who would consider taking her virtue a fine way to strike back at her clan.

“I’ll no tell ye that. McQuade is enough for ye to know.”

“I disagree with ye. ’Tis much too formal only knowing your clan name. I want to know what ye were baptized.”

“Yet ye’ll have to be content for I shall nae tell ye my Christian name.” He frowned but Bronwyn forced herself to be firm. This flirtation was dangerous. Her heart was racing but with more than fear. “If ye get caught on McQuade land, I’ll no be able to help ye.”

“Would that make ye sad, lass?”

“No.” He was toying with her. “But it would ruin supper, what with all the gloating from the men that drove ye back onto McJames land. There would be talk of nothing else.”

One golden eyebrow rose as the horse moved closer to her. He swung a leg over the saddle and jumped to the ground. Her belly quivered in the oddest fashion. But she had been correct about one thing—this man was huge.

“Are ye sure, lass? I might be willing to press me luck if I thought ye’d feel something for me.”

“That’s foolishness. Get on with ye. I willna tell ye my name. Ye’re a stranger; I dinna feel anything beyond Christian good will toward ye.”

“Is that so?”

“It is.”

He flashed another grin at her, but this one was far more calculating and full of intent. “Afraid I might sneak into yer home and steal ye if I know who’s daughter ye are?”

He came closer but kept a firm hand on the reins of his mount. Authority shone from his face now, clear, determined, and undeniable. This man was accustomed to leading. It was part of the fibers that made up his being. He would have the nerve to steal her if that was what he decided upon. There was plenty enough arrogance in him, for certain. She felt it in the pit of her belly. What made her eyelashes flutter to conceal her emotions was the excitement such knowledge unleashed in her.

“Enough teasing,” she said. “Neither of us are children.”

“Aye, I noticed that already.”

Her face brightened once more. His eyes swept her and his expression tightened. Maybe she had never seen a man looking at her like that afore but her body seemed to understand exactly what the flicker of hunger meant. She stared at it, mesmerized.

“Tell me yer name, lass.”