The Union (37 page)
Authors: Gina Robinson
Gaffney had a wild, caged look. Two things Dietz hated because they made for unpredictable behavior. "And what would that be?"
Gaffney appeared almost sad, vulnerable. "Keely."
Dietz fingered the name for what drove Gaffney—obsession. He took another step toward them. He played a dangerous game now—get close enough to grab Gaffney, but stay out of the line of sight of a shot. Dietz also hoped to get Gaffney to take the gun away from Keely and draw on him.
Gaffney guessed Dietz's intent. "Don't try it."
Gaffney shifted Keely to his right arm, transferring the gun along with the woman, holding it at her ribs. With his left hand he pulled the pins from her hair until it fell loose. He wound the silky strands around his palm, tightly, until he pulled her head up against it. "Your life isn't worth shit, not even to you, Dietz." Gaffney snorted. "But hers is, to both of us."
Did Dietz look that desperate, or was Gaffney only remembering what had been back in Gem? In any case, Gaffney assumed correctly—Keely's life meant more to Dietz than his own. Dietz struggled to keep his expression unreadable.
"You smug bastard." Gaffney sounded angry. "You don't think I'll kill her, do you?" He laughed. "It doesn't matter what you think, only what I'll do. I killed to get her. I'll kill to keep her."
"Lunn, please."
Ah, Keely
, Dietz thought.
Don't plead.
"Killed who?"
Gaffney laughed again. "You're hell bent on a confession."
It was as if Dietz's question suddenly made Gaffney aware of his surroundings again. He looked around, apparently taking in the troops surrounding him and the slim odds of escape. Desperation clouded his eyes.
"Confession, what's it supposed to be good for, your soul?" Gaffney sounded suddenly stricken. With guilt or pain, Dietz couldn't really say.
"I'll confess before we die then." Gaffney's voice went low and soft. "I killed Michael, my best friend."
Keely gasped.
"I'm sorry, Keely." Gaffney's voice broke. "I didn't mean to. I meant to play hero and save him. Then I figured he'd help me win you. Approve of the match. But things got out of hand. He died before I could save him. What I want is freedom from guilt, to go back and do it over so it turns out all right. Can you give me that?" His voice cracked and he looked miles away with his thoughts. An indescribable expression lit his eyes, something terrible and merciless that suddenly became relief. The tension drained out of his face and the tight set of his jaw relaxed. That look frightened Dietz beyond anything that had occurred. Gaffney looked like he'd just received the absolution he'd been looking for, last confession, last rights before he went.
Keely started to cry. She mumbled something.
Don't listen
, Dietz, he warned himself. No emotions, not now. He forced himself to think logically. The only thought that surfaced—if they didn't get a shot off in the next instant he would have to jump Gaffney. He poised, ready to spring.
As suddenly as Dietz's intentions formed, Gaffney thrust Keely in front of him, holding her by the hair with one hand, the gun at her head with the other.
"Oh, shit," Dietz said.
"To heaven with both of us, angel," Gaffney said. Then he stared at Dietz with a look so chilling that Dietz wasn't likely to ever forget it. "Together in death. Cradled together, my body shielding hers."
"Gaffney." Dietz lunged for him.
The crack of a shot echoed off the buildings. Gaffney's head tilted sideways, blown back by the force of the blast before he dropped the gun and crumpled to the ground. Dietz thought that expression would be burned in his memory for life, like the image on a photographic plate.
"Keely!" Was it his own voice crying out, hoarse and horrified? He reached out for her as Keely stumbled forward into his arms.
"Oh, dear Lord. Oh, dear Lord." Keely mumbled over and over again through her tears as he pressed her into his chest.
Before him, Gaffney fell to the ground, half his head missing. It wasn't until that instant that Dietz became aware again of the crowd surrounding them. For a time, all his attention had focused on the narrow perimeter of Keely, Gaffney, and himself. Now, suddenly, he heard the lawmen and militia troops yelling, the gasps of the crowd. He saw the horrified looks on the faces of the spectators. Where had so many people come from? Last he looked just a small group had surrounded them.
The Marshal and his men ran to Gaffney. A newspaper reporter stepped out of the crowd and began asking questions.
Keely squirmed in Dietz's arms, trying to turn and look back, almost an automatic response. He pressed her more tightly against himself.
Spare her, Dietz, spare her.
"It's all right, Keely. He's gone."
A fresh round of sobs shook her shoulders. He had to get her out of the crowd. Without thinking, he scooped her up into his arms and pushed his way through the crowd.
Seated at the table under the whirring of an overhead fan, calming, normal, in the small cafe, Keely wondered how John Dietz had gotten her there. She remembered the gentle gait of his footsteps as he carried her down the street and the way she swayed in his arms in time, sobbing, and nothing else. Absolutely nothing else. Not how far he'd walked, not what he'd said, not how much time had passed.
Nothing
.
As far as it went, she remembered nothing much of the last hour except Lunn, John Dietz, and herself, and mostly, John's gaze locked on hers, keeping her sane through it all. Everything else from the instant Lunn had grabbed her until now jumbled in her mind, desperately misplaced and out of sequence. She hadn't been aware of the forming crowd or the gathering of lawmen and military. The shot had come as a complete surprise to her. Who had fired it? Where had he come from? For the briefest instant, until she tumbled into John's arms, she’d thought Lunn had shot her or himself. Her focus had been so narrow everything else had blurred.
If she wanted to, if she forced herself to think about it, she might be able to create some order to things. But she didn't. She never wanted to think about it again.
John held a glass of water out to her. "Drink it. You'll feel better." His voice sounded soft and reassuring, reminiscent of a day long past when her father's voice could comfort her.
She spoke her half-formed thought without thinking. "Like a child after a nightmare?" She smiled at the thought.
"Something like that," he said.
She nodded. "A nightmare."
He pulled his chair up close to hers and leaned forward on his arms on the table. "Keely, I'm so sorry. So sorry for everything."
His words surprised her. How could he take blame for something that Lunn had done? "You weren't responsible."
"Like hell," he said.
The venom in his words caught her off guard.
"If it weren't for me, you'd never have been in that situation." He sat up straight, as if trying to brace himself against the blame, face it like a man.
"You saved my life."
He turned to look at her. Her conscience urged her to speak.
"You saved my life many, many more times than just today, and in more ways than I can ever repay," she said.
He looked puzzled and hopeful.
"If you hadn't killed McCullough, I would have married him…" Her voice trailed off and she shuddered. "He was everything you said and worse." She paused. "Or I might have married Lunn. He wasn't all bad, you know. He saved that editor and that took great courage and strength of character. I think accidentally killing Michael just sent him over the edge."
Silence sat between them a moment.
Finally, Keely smiled, weakly, but a smile still. "I have the worst taste in men it seems."
"Yeah," he said and nodded.
"Is there really a price on your head?"
When he smiled, his dimples showed. "That's what I hear. Quite a fine one judging from the union's hatred and the Clan's determination to kill me. You thinking of collecting?"
She found enough strength to sip her water. He was right. Cool, wet, refreshing, ordinary, it brought life back into focus.
"Hardly. I don't need the money. You left me plenty." She took another sip to help swallow the lump swelling in her throat. They seemed to be running out of things to say. What would happen if she let him leave, just walk out the door? What if they never met again? She had to say something, anything.
"Who am I now?" What a silly question.
He cocked his head to one side and stared at her questioningly. "Isn't that what you asked me a bit ago?"
She couldn't more than nod. He'd evaded the question neatly.
"I suppose," he took her chin in his hand and brought her face around to his, "you could be whoever you wanted to be. Just like me."
She nodded numbly.
"I love you, Keely." His voice broke with emotion. "Now may not be the time or the place, but I have to tell you before you slip away again. I love you. You could be my wife again. John Dietz's wife, whoever the hell that is."
She felt tears forming again and tried to blink them back, blasted things.
He looked at her guiltily. "I can't give up my job, Keely, or change who I am. Being a private detective's wife is a hard business."
She nodded. Suddenly a smile overwhelmed her. "Oh, I know, John Dietz. Believe me, I know. But I can't think of anything else I'd rather be."
He grasped the back of her head with his hand and pulled her into him. She kissed him with trembling lips and all the passion of her soul.
Thank You!
Thanks for reading
The Union
. I hope you enjoyed it!
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About the Author
Gina Robinson lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and family. She's the bestselling, award-winning author of
The Spy Who Left Me.
Gina is a longtime member of Romance Writers of America and a former Golden Heart finalist. She also belongs to International Thriller Writers. She writes humorous contemporary romantic suspense—what she likes to call spy romance, historical romance, historical romance, and fun, lighthearted women's fiction.
Romantic Times
has praised her novels, saying "Robinson delivers."
Connect with Gina Online:
My Website:
http://www.ginarobinson.com/
Twitter: @ginamrobinson
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Also by Gina Robinson sold at Amazon.com
Historical Romance
The Agent Ex Series
License To Love
,
available Aug. 27, 2013
A Spylicious Romance Short Story Duet
And more spylicious romance
Fun, flirty contemporary women's fiction
