Troublemaker (28 page)

Finally the day wound down. Jeff Simmons was being kept hospitalized overnight for observation; the word came in that he had indeed been hit by the ricochet, but he'd be okay. Daina arrived back with a refreshed Tricks, who bounced from person to person to announce her presence, with repeated trips back to Bo to touch base with her center of security.

And enough was, finally, enough. “I'm going home,” she announced tiredly.

Mayor Buddy, unusually solemn, had been there through all the aftermath. He patted her shoulder. “You've had a hard day. I think you should take off a couple of days, get everything inside calm again. Unless all hell breaks loose at the park tonight, Jesse and the rest of the men can handle everything, and call you if all hell
does
break loose. I mean it. Stay home.”

Normally she'd have soldiered on, but this wasn't normal. She gave a brief nod. “At least one day.” She'd take that one, then reevaluate. She was exhausted. She felt hollow, and frighteningly fragile, as if she might shatter without warning. She needed to just be home.

“I'll go get the truck,” Morgan said, and only then did she remember that he'd parked at the other end of town, where the parade began.

“No need for that,” Mayor Buddy said, evidently realizing exactly where they had parked that morning. “My car is here, hop in and I'll take you to it.”

“Thanks, but we have Tricks,” Bo pointed out. A lot of people didn't want a dog in their car; she'd been one of them, until Tricks.

Mayor Buddy looked down at Tricks, who was lying with her muzzle resting on Bo's foot, and a spasm crossed his face. The official word
going around was that Kyle had been about to shoot Bo, but she knew differently, and evidently some other people did too. “She can ride in my car any time,” he said. “In the front seat, if she wants.”

Bo managed a smile. It was weak, but it was a smile. “Don't give her any ideas.”

The ride to the park was a matter of a few minutes; the park was filled with people finishing the day the way they'd planned it, with picnics, food trucks, balloons, games, and fireworks to close out the festivities after dark. For most of them, the morning's excitement had been a momentary distraction that hadn't touched them at all other than giving them something to talk about while they ate their grilled burgers and hot dogs. No one paid any attention to them when Mayor Buddy stopped beside Morgan's big black SUV.

“I'm riding in back with her,” Bo said when Morgan opened the back door for Tricks to leap into her seat. He gave a brief nod and opened the other door for her.

He started the engine so the air conditioning would run, then said, “I'll be right back,” and strode across the green to one of the food trucks. When he returned, the brown paper sack he carried filled the Tahoe with the smell of grilled hamburgers and onions. With vague surprise, she looked at the clock on the dash and saw that it was well after their normal time for eating dinner. She'd eaten about half of what had been brought to her at lunch, too gut-punched to manage more, but now she was actually a little hungry. The funny thing was, if he hadn't thought of it, she probably wouldn't have eaten at all.

Tricks had great interest in the smells coming from that paper sack, but the seat harness prevented her from jumping into the front seat to check it out. Nevertheless, she leaned forward as far as she could go, her dark eyes focused on the sack. Bo put her hand on Tricks, sinking her fingers into the soft fur, needing to feel the warmth and life still there. She needed to touch her.

Morgan glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “Gooding will probably plead guilty.”

She stirred herself, made a small scoffing sound. “Kyle? His father is probably in touch with every judge and lawyer he knows right now, trying to make it go away.”

“I'm fairly certain that won't happen this time.” He didn't say any more, but she wasn't stupid, and she definitely remembered his expression—as well as the fifteen minutes when he'd had “something to do.” She could see an echo of that expression on his face now, in the iciness of his eyes. She was fairly certain that if Kyle
did
plead guilty, it would be because he was afraid not to. She was good with that, and she didn't intend to ask any questions.

Now that they were alone, she could feel the fatigue setting in, coming at her fast and heavy. The draining emotional upheaval left her as empty as if she'd run a marathon. Sliding over, she let her head rest against Tricks's side for the comfort of being close to her.

“I know she's a dog,” she murmured, not knowing if Morgan could hear her but not caring because she needed to say it anyway. “But I love her.” She didn't add any qualifiers such as
like a child
because love was love and didn't need measuring.

His gaze flicked to the mirror again. “I know,” he said quietly.

Finally, finally, they were home. Tricks bounded out, her energy restored; Bo climbed out as if she hurt in every bone of her body, which she kind of did, but mostly she was so tired she could barely move. Morgan checked the sky, said, “There's enough daylight left for me to take her for a walk. You go inside and put your feet up, eat one of those burgers. I'll eat when we get back.”

“I'll go with you,” she said, unable to bear the thought just yet of letting Tricks out of her sight. She'd let Daina take her because she knew that was best for Tricks, but that was the only reason, and she'd been on edge every minute Tricks was out of her sight.

He seemed to get that because he gave a brief nod and held out his left hand to her. She didn't know if he meant for her to take it or if it was a “come on” gesture, but she seized it and held on tight. “Thank you.” She should have said it sooner, would have if she'd been able to gather
her thoughts. She was trying so hard to function and not give in to the terror that still roiled deep inside her that function itself was getting shortchanged. “It was lucky—more than lucky—you were there.”

He squeezed her hand, then laced their fingers together so their hands were palm to palm. The touch of him, the strength she could feel in his hand, held her steady when she was feeling increasingly fragile, as if she might shatter into a thousand shards.

“It wasn't luck,” he said briefly as they strolled across the yard to the trail she and Tricks had worn in the earth. “I'd already spotted him.” Bo was watching Tricks dance along the trail as enthusiastically as if she hadn't gone that same route multiple times a day for most of her life, but at Morgan's statement she glanced questioningly up at him.

“I didn't know who he was,” he explained, “but he was wearing a jacket and that made me suspicious. When he moved, I followed.”

“What's suspicious about a jacket?” Then it hit her, and she said, “Oh.” Why would anyone wear a jacket on such a warm day unless they were hiding whatever was under the jacket? She wouldn't have noticed that, at least not at first.

Those few awful moments flashed in front of her, as vivid as if they were happening again. She saw the hate in Kyle's eyes, the sheer viciousness, and the sick enjoyment of what he intended to do. “He was aiming straight at Tricks,” she said in a low tone and swallowed with difficulty because her throat immediately tightened at the memory.

“I thought he was. He could have been aiming at you, given that you were directly behind her, but I was fairly sure she was his target.”

“I knew I couldn't get there in time.” Her voice had tightened to a thin thread of sound. “But you did.”

“Hey.” He squeezed her hand again, which brought her stricken gaze up to his. “I wasn't going to let anything happen to either of you.”

But it could have. Who else but Morgan would have noticed something odd in someone wearing a jacket? His training, his level of expertise in taking people down, had put in him a unique position to stop Kyle, but what about when he was gone? She couldn't think about that now, she simply couldn't.

“I don't understand it. Why hurt her? She's so innocent—” Her voice broke.

“He blames you for making him give Emily everything she wanted in the divorce.”

“
Me?
” Indignation saved her, gave her back some control. She stopped in her tracks to stare at him in astonishment.

“His reasoning—or lack of it—is that everyone was so angry at him because he punched you, and he wouldn't have punched you if you hadn't jumped him. Ergo, it's all your fault.”

She had nothing to say to that, too stunned by that monumental lack of logic to even try to get her mind around it. Silence was good, requiring no effort. Pretty much the only things keeping her going were watching Tricks go about her routine untouched by the day's happenings, and the feel of Morgan's hot palm pressed against hers. Tricks did her business and they turned around, retracing the path through the purpling twilight.

Their hamburgers were cold, but she nuked them just enough to get them warm, while Morgan opened a Naked Pig for each of them. If it hadn't been for the beer helping the food to go down, she never would have been able to swallow. When Tricks was fed and they were fed, the day crashed down on her. She let Morgan handle what cleanup there was and dragged herself upstairs, made herself shower. Afterward, she went to the balcony rail and called down to Morgan that she was going to bed.

He was sitting on the sofa watching television. He tilted his head back so he could see her. “You okay?”

“No,” she said honestly. “But I will be.”

And she would. She knew she would. Just not tonight. Tonight, it was all still too close, her nerves were still too raw. When she got into bed, Tricks jumped up and snuggled against her, as if she somehow knew Bo needed comforting.

The need to touch Tricks was overwhelming. Bo stroked the soft fur, trying not to think how close she had come to losing her. “Sweet girl,” she whispered, remembering Tricks as a puppy, a lightning-fast ball of white fuzz hell-bent on attacking life and sampling everything
she could, tripping over her own paws, diving at Bo's shoelaces, splashing wildly in the plastic wading pool Bo had bought for her. She tried to hold on to that line of thought, to make herself smile and use the good memories to keep the bad ones at bay.

She couldn't do it. The fragile smile in the dark faded, and the other memories rushed in. Lying there, she was swamped by that horrible moment when she'd been fighting to get to Tricks, knowing she was too late. For a few minutes that were so devastating she could barely think about them, she'd thought she had just seen Tricks killed in front of her. That yelp—what if it had been the last sound Tricks ever made?

The raw sound of anguish tore from her throat. She buried her face against Tricks's neck as sobs shook her. She hated crying; she kept her emotions battened down and buttoned up, because viewing everything pragmatically and evenly was the best way to get through life. She wanted to stop, wanted to put this behind her and get back in balance.

She had always tried so hard to keep Tricks safe, and today she hadn't been able to. If Morgan hadn't been there, Kyle would have killed her.

She was so mired in distress that she didn't hear the bedroom door open, but she wasn't startled when the bed gave under Morgan's weight as he sat down with his hip against her back. “Hey,” he murmured as he smoothed strands of hair away from her wet face. “It didn't happen. Keep that thought front and center: it didn't happen.”

“I know,” she said, her voice thick with tears. “But it was so close. I couldn't get to her. I saw what he was about to do, and I couldn't move fast enough. I felt as if my feet had been
glued
down.”

“For what it's worth, in a crisis like that how things feel and how they really are are two different things. You were moving like you'd been shot out of a cannon.”

“And I still wouldn't have been there fast enough.” Heartbreak was plain in her tone. She would have failed. Tricks would have died.

The bedroom wasn't dark because of the light from the landing coming through the open door; she could see Tricks's brows quirking quizzically at this unusual behavior from both her main human and her auxiliary human, her face so expressive she might as well be speaking.
Bo's heart swelled as she trailed a tender finger down the golden head to rub between Tricks's eyes.

For all of Tricks's life, Bo had done everything she could to keep her safe and healthy, to give her a happy, secure life. Dogs didn't live that long; every day was precious. But despite everything she'd done, all the precautions she'd taken and the care she'd given, she could have lost Tricks today, and it had been out of her control. Things happened. Some people were stupid-ass idiots. She couldn't anticipate everything, couldn't control everything, or even most things. Loss happened. It was random, striking without warning and despite all efforts to ward it off. Lightning could strike a hermit alone on a mountain as easily as it could someone in a town.

“Don't,” Morgan said, and she realized she was sobbing again. She could no more stop the tears than she'd have been able to stop the bullet.

She could have lost him today, too. He wasn't hers to lose but . . . she cared. She couldn't deny that she cared. Tricks hadn't been the only one in danger; Kyle could have turned the gun on Morgan just as easily. Today had all but slapped her in the face with a hard truth: there were no guarantees. She could safeguard her emotions to the best of her ability, and still be blindsided by events she couldn't control. She could have lost Tricks today. She could lose Morgan tomorrow. Whether or not she slept with him, let herself show how much she cared for him, wouldn't affect the amount of pain she would feel if anything happened to him. She would instead bear the extra burden of regret, regret that she hadn't made the most of their time together.