Page 34

T resia looked up from the sketch on the table before her when the kitchen door opened. Devlin stood there, his hands hanging loosely at his sides. Pain filled his eyes and was repeated in the grimace on his face. There was blood on his shirt, the brownish stain long since dried.

Despite telling her not to worry, she had been worried, though her anxiety had lessened after Merrill had stopped by to take Corianna back to Josie’s house and let her know what happened at the Serrano’s.

Her worry lessened even further when Nate and Rafael came by the house to give her updates and let her know Devlin was all right.

Still, she was concerned for him. Devlin was a marshal. Hunting down bad men was part of his job, but seeing what had happened to Josie and the Serranos had surely affected him. “Are you all right?”

He didn’t answer her question, but one look at his face said he wasn’t. “Where’s Avery?”

“She’s asleep.” She put down the pen in her hand as she rose from her chair and took a few steps toward him.

She didn’t tell him that Avery had been upset that he hadn’t been there for breakfast nor that she was even more upset that he hadn’t come home for dinner.

He didn’t need to hear that. Not now, when he seemed to be struggling.

He gave a slight nod, but still didn’t move out of the doorway, as if he was frozen in place. She reached out for him, laying her hand on his forearm. He flinched, something he’d never done before. She ignored his reaction, knowing him, sensing what this day had done to him.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, even though the words couldn’t possibly help.

He gave her a look she’d never seen before, adding to her concern for him. There was so much pain in that look, etched into the fine lines around his eyes and mouth, that it hurt her, too.

As he seemed unable to move on his own, she took his hand and led him toward the kitchen table to the seat she’d just occupied.

She made him sit then got a bottle of brandy from the cabinet, had second thoughts, and chose the whiskey instead.

She pulled a glass from the cabinet, her fingers suddenly awkward and stiff and poured some of the liquor, filling the tumbler halfway then set it before him.

He glanced at her then at the whiskey and gave her a slight nod before downing the liquor in one swallow. “Did Merrill stop by and tell you what happened?”

“He did. Nate and Rafael, too.”

“I killed a man. I should have remorse for what I did,” he said, his voice reflecting the pain on his face and in his eyes.

“Delany had to be stopped before he killed again. Merrill says he deserved what he got, that Alfonso and Damita might have been next. I think about Josie, lying dead. She was trying to protect her girls.” He looked at her, as if not quite understanding.

“How can one human being treat another so cruelly, like their lives don’t matter? ”

Her heart in her throat, she sat beside him and grasped his hand, entwining her fingers with his, offering comfort though the sentiment fell far short of what he needed. “Tell me.”

And he did, the words seemingly pulled from deep within, his voice much hoarser than usual, telling her so much more than what Merrill, Nate, and Rafael had told her earlier.

For a big, brave man, Merrill had had a hard time describing what he’d seen, too.

What a close call Alfonso and Damita had.

“They’re with Doctor Ben right now. I stayed with them for a little while.

Ben insisted they stay the night so he could keep an eye on Damita.

She didn’t lose the baby, but she’s been through so much…

” He didn’t finish the sentence though he didn’t have to.

She already suspected there was still a chance Damita might lose the child or go into early labor.

And knowing that was how Hannah had lost her life, she knew he was reliving that nightmare. Her heart went out to him.

Devlin stared at the tumbler. “I had Lucy come and take pictures of Delany so I can collect the bounty before I turned him over to the undertaker.” He glanced at her then and let out a sigh. “I’ll be giving the bounty to Alfonso and Damita.”

Tresia did the only thing she could do at that moment. She rose from her seat, walked behind him, and wrapped her arms around his neck, offering such little comfort for the things he’d seen. His hands came up and grasped her arms, as if holding on to her for dear life, for sanity.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered again, near his ear this time and held him tighter, pouring all her compassion and understanding into him, letting him feel her warmth. “I was worried about you. I was afraid…you wouldn’t come home.” She probably shouldn’t have said it, but she wouldn’t take it back.

He grasped her arms a little tighter, though not enough to hurt, only enough to let her know he’d been worried about the same thing. “I’ll always come home, Tresia. Always.”

She pressed her cheek against his and just held him, knowing his words were a lie. He might say it and he might believe it, but they both knew there were no guarantees.

“I know my job is dangerous. I know there are times when I’m in harm’s way. But I wouldn’t change what I do. I’d just much rather talk someone down with logic than take them down with guns.”

He could have so easily lost his life today and instead of holding him now, someone else—perhaps Merrill or Nate or even Doctor Ben—might have been holding her, telling her that he’d never come home again.

The mere thought brought tears to her eyes.

For Avery. For herself and the overwhelming feelings of love she had for him.

She hadn’t meant for it to happen, but truly, she hadn’t been able to stop herself from falling in love with him.

She continued to just hold him, offering what little comfort she could. She didn’t speak as there was no need for words now. Instead, she hoped her warmth and compassion could soothe his troubled mind.

She felt it the moment his tension eased, though he still held onto her arms and then he moved, grasping one of her hands and bringing it up to his mouth to kiss her soft skin.

“You’re all that’s good in the world, Tresia. Sweet. Honest. Kind.” His voice was hoarse, so much more than usual, as he turned his head slightly, enough so he could touch his lips to hers.

It was the gentlest of kisses, but it was filled with so many emotions, almost too many to name, and then he gently removed her arms from around his neck and stood, turning toward her, even though the chair was between them.

He moved it with his foot then took a step closer and drew her into his arms, holding her tight, tighter than she had held him, as if she were his anchor, that if he let go, he would be cast out to sea, adrift on a tide of loneliness and heartache.

She didn’t hesitate to rise up on her toes to seek his mouth, molding her lips to his.

He deepened the kiss, which thrilled her.

It had been a long time since she’d been touched like this and she felt it deep in her heart, a swift, rising flood of want and need, so much so that her knees grew weak.

The need to give this man comfort overpowered her, the urge to wrap her arms around him and take his pain grew as his mouth moved over hers.

Blood rushed through her veins, the erratic pounding echoing in her ears. She shouldn’t want this, but she did.

He broke the kiss and pulled away a little, his startling blue-gray eyes so much darker, like thunderclouds in the distance.

He opened his mouth—perhaps to request forgiveness for kissing her.

There was no need for an apology. Or any words at all.

In the bright light of day there might be, but not now.

She wanted to give him solace from what he’d seen and done, to let him know that everything would be all right.

And he needed to take it from her so his healing could begin.

He held her a little tighter, his eyes warm but questioning, before he lifted her in his arms and brought her not upstairs to his room, but to the guest bedroom on the first floor, the room where Corianna had rested before Merrill took her home.

He laid her gently on the bed then just stood there for a moment, as if deciding whether or not he should join her.

Tresia took the decision from him. She held out her hand, a silent but unmistakable request.

He took her hand, entwining his fingers with hers for a moment before he released her to unbuckle his gun belt and lay it on a chair in the corner of the room.

His vest came next, the shiny star pinned to the leather winking in the moonlight streaming in through the window.

Lastly, he toed off his boots then just stood beside the bed, hesitating, his heated gaze, the intensity strong, warming her from the inside out.

She held out her hand once again.

As if finally making his decision, he stretched out on the bed alongside her, his mouth quickly taking possession of hers.

Tresia let out a little sigh, feeling the weight of his body pressed against hers, the touch of his mouth on hers, the pressure building and building, until she was drowning in it, his tongue slipping between her lips to slide against her own.

He broke the kiss then nudged at the lacy collar of her blouse with his lips and teeth, moving the fabric away so he could taste the tender spot beneath her ear, sending a thrill coursing straight to her core, before he deftly unbuttoned the tiny row of buttons, his big, blunt fingers surprisingly dexterous.

At this moment, she wouldn’t have cared if he simply pulled the fabric apart, scattering all those tiny little buttons to the four winds—as long as he was touching her.

He moved slightly, taking his warmth. “Too many clothes,” he murmured against her throat, even as he rose from the bed, bringing her with him. “I need to feel all of you. Every blessed inch.”

“Yes.”