Runaway Cowboy (12 page)

She spun at his voice, seeing him in the back of the barn, relief flooding her as she ran toward him, throwing herself into his arms. “Clay, the police should be here any second, but if those guys see—”

“They'll come after us. So, get inside.” He pushed her back into the office. She hurried to the window, barely able to make out the truck through the trees blocking her vantage point. It looked like it was stopped halfway down the driveway.

“They must have heard the sirens,” she told him. The truck peeled out; this time backing up, heading for the house again. “They're coming back, Clay.”

“Give me my phone.” She handed him back his cell phone from her pocket, and he punched buttons quickly. She saw him pause before texting again. “Okay, Candie is inside with your brothers. They're calling the police so Scott can tell the officers that these guys are armed and heading back toward the house.” He stepped behind her, looking out the window with her as several police cruisers sped down the driveway, dust swirling around the cars and blocking the thugs from view. They watched as cruisers followed the truck to the front of the house, surrounding it, waiting for the men to exit.

“Stay here,” Clay breathed into her ear. He turned to leave the office.

“What? No!” she yelled, following him. There was no way she was letting him get out of her sight again. Those men had pulled a gun, and she wasn't taking any chance of losing him. “Either I go with you or we both stay.”

“Fine.” He pulled her back inside the doorway. “We stay.” He leaned his head around the door, watching the standoff.

The pair, realizing their chance at freedom was gone, exited the truck and were immediately shoved to the ground and cuffed. Jennifer tried to edge past Clay to get a good look, but he kept pressing her behind him. This protector thing was getting a bit out of hand.

“Will you move? I want to see.”

He turned his head slowly and looked at her as if she had just grown a third eyeball. “Are you
nuts
?” Clay held both of her arms and moved her against the wall, pressing his own body against hers so she couldn't get past him. “This is serious, Jen. Not a television show. Those are real guns.”

“And you were stupid enough to put yourself right in the line of fire.” She shoved against his chest. “You could've gotten yourself killed.”

“It's better than
you
getting killed. Now stay here while I go talk to the police.” She watched as he walked toward the house, leaving her in the barn alone again.

“I don't think so,” she muttered, following him.

He spun on her. “Get inside.”

“Freeze!” Jen stopped midstride, her eyes growing wide as no less than three very serious looking officers turned toward them, with weapons leveled. “Put your hands up and get on your knees.”

“What? I live here. I'm the one who called—”

“I said, on your knees!” Several more officers moved toward them, triangulating their positions as two peeled away and edged closer.

“Jen, shut up and get on your knees.” She glanced back toward Clay who was already on his knees with his hands folded on top of his head like he was a criminal in a movie.

She copied him, dropping to her knees and raising her hands on top of her head. “This is ridiculous, I . . . ow!” She yelped as an officer rushed and twisted her arm behind her back, cuffing her wrists.

This was
not
the way she'd envisioned this standoff ending.

J
EN SAT ON
the front porch, absently rubbing at her wrists where the handcuffs had pinched. It didn't take long for the officers to realize who was actually involved and who belonged in the back of squad cars once they were able to start inquiring. Luckily, nothing more than her pride had been injured.

She wished she could sit everyone down the way the police did and get some answers to her questions. Like who Candie was, why those men showed up at her house, and how all of this involved Clay enough for him to sacrifice his truck, if not his life, to save Candie. He was still upstairs with Candie, where he'd been for the last hour after the police left, and he wasn't letting anyone else close to her. She didn't like his secrecy, and if he thought he was going to stay in their home, especially after what just happened, he was going to give her some answers, whether he wanted to or not.

“You look like you've got a lot on your mind.”

Jen couldn't help but be a bit disappointed to see her brother instead of Clay. “This is crazy, Scott. Has he told you anything?”

“Just what I already knew.” Scott shrugged and shook his head sympathetically. “He didn't know this would happen, Jen. Candie showing up, those guys, the police . . . none of it was his fault.”

“I know
that.
” She sighed and let her hands fall into her lap as she stared out toward the corral. “Who is Candie, really?”

“She's my sister.”

Both of them turned toward the doorway at the sound of Clay's voice. Scott rose quickly. “I should let the two of you talk. I think it's long overdue.” The pointed look he shot Clay didn't escape her notice.

Clay gave him an apologetic look, and Jennifer wondered how much Scott had been keeping from her. She watched her brother slink out of the room before she could pin him down with questions.

“My half-sister,” Clay clarified, taking a seat next to her. “The youngest of the three of us.”

“Three?” Clay had never opened up about his family before, and she wasn't sure what she could ask now without him clamming up again.

He nodded. “I'm the oldest. My brother, Bobby, overdosed, and Candie is the youngest. I promised my mother before she died that I'd take care of her. Candie came looking for me when she got into trouble again. Those men were here because she owed them money. I don't know whether it was for drugs or some con job she did, and she's not telling me now.”

Jennifer shook her head, staring at her hands as she tried to put the pieces together into some semblance of the life she'd never known he faced. Angry tears burned at the back of her eyes for pain he'd gone through, for the things he'd never shared with her, for the life they could have had. “I don't even know what to say, Clay. I'm so sorry about your brother and your mother. Why didn't you ever tell me?”

“I ran away from all of it a long time ago, at my mother's request.” He rubbed his hands on his thighs, unable to hide what she now recognized as fear in his eyes. His voice was agonized, and she could see the need to escape making him fidget. “She wanted me to get away from all of this. What she didn't know was it's like a demon that won't let go.”

“But you're not . . . ” She wasn't sure what to say. He was a different man than the one she'd known five years ago. She didn't know anything about him now, if she ever really knew him at all; she had only seen what he allowed her to see.

“No, I'm not an addict.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “As a kid, I started selling for some older guys in high school. Mom wanted me out of that life, wanted all of us out of it, but I was the only one who escaped. When I came here, you and Mike helped me forget about my past, until Mom called again and needed me.”

The tears she couldn't hold back any longer slipped down her cheek unchecked. Suddenly, it was beginning to make sense.

Clay reached for her hand, his thumb tracing circles over her palm, but he wouldn't look at her face. “Jen, I didn't want to leave. It nearly killed me. When Mom called to tell me about Bobby . . . she begged me to find a way to save Candie. Mom was dying from cancer.” He shook his head. “Maybe if I'd stayed, things would've been different. I could have kept Candie safe, kept Bobby alive. I could have—”

“No, you don't know how it would have turned out,” she interrupted him, dropping to her knees between his thighs, cupping his face between her palms. She couldn't bear to imagine him in place of his brother, dead from an overdose. “Why didn't you ever tell me any of this?”

His gaze finally met hers. “What could I say? My druggie family is falling apart, and I need to go take care of them?” He rubbed his temples with his fingers. “Jen, look what happened today. You or your brothers could have been killed. I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you.”

Reality struck her in the chest, freezing the blood in her veins. If he thought he'd protected her the first time by leaving, he might run in order to protect her again. He slipped his hands down to cover hers, and she began to tremble. “Clay, please?” She wasn't sure what she was asking for, but she could see the resignation in his eyes.

“Jen.” His voice was tender as his thumb traced her cheekbone. “God, I love you. I've thought about you every day, wished things could have been different for us.” He brushed away a tear with his thumb.

“They still can be. Your leaving didn't stop anything. You can't run away from your past, but if you face it . . . ”

“This happened
because
I came back.” His voice was husky, agonized and sorrowful. “I can't stay.”

“Clay,” she began, but he stopped her with a finger to her lips.

“This will keep happening. I have to take care of Candie, but I won't put you in danger doing it.”

In that moment, she knew his mind was made up. He was certain he was putting her in harm's way. Clay would go to the ends of the earth to protect her and her family, even if it meant hurting both of them in the process. Regardless of what she said to convince him it wasn't true, he was too stubborn to believe anything to the contrary. He was leaving again, and her heart was about to be ripped out. It wasn't as much an
if
as it was a
when.
Unless she could prove him wrong.

“Then just stay tonight.”

The words tumbled from her lips before she could stop them. Not that she really wanted to. Clay was the only man she'd ever loved, and although she'd tried to lie to herself, she'd never stopped. He'd been with her, in her heart, every day since the night he left. If one more night was all she could have of him, she was going to cast aside the past and ignore the future to have this one brief moment in the present with him.

“Stay with me tonight.” Her eyes met his, pleading without words, before she brushed her lips against his. “Please, I promise I won't ask for more.”

“You do still owe me a dinner,” he whispered against her mouth. He tried to laugh, to force a bit of humor into his voice, but his eyes were sad, already resigned to the decision he'd made. “Go get ready, and I'll take you out for the best dinner of your life.”

Chapter Eight

“Y
OU ARE THE
biggest idiot on the face of the earth!” As usual, Candie didn't hold anything back. It didn't matter that she was to blame for the mess he was in; she was going to rip him a new one whether he deserved it or not.

“I really don't need this now, Candie.” Clay's voice was a low growl.

“Mom did
not
tell you to give up your life just so you can be a martyr pretending to save me from some nonexistent danger.”

“Yeah, well, those guys today seemed pretty real to me.” He brushed past her and reached for a clean Western shirt he hoped Jen would like. “And that gun . . . yeah, it got real when it was pointed your way.”

Clay wasn't sure if Candie had been eavesdropping on him with Jen earlier or if she'd just happened to hear their conversation, but she wasn't letting the subject drop, and it was grating on his last already raw nerve. He wanted to enjoy this night with Jen, not spend their limited time regretting his promise to his mother any more than he already did. However, Candie was making it pretty hard not to regret it right now.

“I don't need you to take care of me. I'm doing just fine on my own.”

Clay held up a folded wad of cash between his fingers “So, you don't need this then? And those guys weren't coming to collect on some deal you ran out on?” He tossed the money onto the bedspread, trying to hide his aversion to his sister's lifestyle choices. His already short fuse was getting shorter by the second.

Candie rose from the side of his bed and stared down at the money scattered over the comforter. “You know what, Clay? If I'd realized how much you were throwing away, I never would have asked for your help. I won't be the reason you walk away from her.”

Clay sighed, feeling like a judgmental jerk as he scooped up the money and held it out toward his sister. “Just take the money, Candie. Pay off whatever debts are hanging over your head and clean up your act. Get a real job, something.”

She huffed and shook her head at him. “I don't want your money, Clay. I
have
money.” She held up a wad of cash twice the size of his. “I wanted your help. I wanted you to help me get on my feet somewhere near you so we could finally be a family without all the running and hiding. I didn't owe D money. He was mad because I refused to hustle for him anymore.” She repocketed her money. “And, so we're clear, I am drug free. I haven't touched anything since I got clean two years ago.”

“You said you owed the guy who fixed your car.”

“I said I stiffed him. He tried to charge me for repairs he never made. But thanks for your vote of confidence. It's refreshing.”

“Candie.” Clay followed her out the bedroom door. “Can you blame me?”

“I guess not,” she conceded. “But from the sounds of things, you've been blaming me for your being a coward for at least five years now. I'm not going to be your scapegoat. I'll call you and let you know where I land.” She turned her back on him as she marched down the stairs. “Until then, get your head out of your ass and marry that woman. Although, God only knows why she wants you.”

Still shirtless, Clay followed her down the stairs. “You're not going to land anywhere except on your ass, Candie. I've heard this before.” He watched his sister walk out the front door, ignoring him. “Until the police called,” he added. “Candie!” Within minutes, he heard the sound of her run-down car chugging to a start. Without answering him, she backed up and headed down the driveway, leaving behind a cloud of smelly exhaust and his frustration. Candie had a way of breezing in and out of his life, like a hurricane—without warning, amassing nothing but destruction in her wake. Now what was he supposed to do?