When Bruce Met Cyn (27 page)

“I'm not telling you a thing. You're a miserable pervert. Why couldn't you have fallen down a flight of stairs or something?”

The aroused color leached from his face. “Whore. Get over here. Now.”

Jamie shook his head. “Not happening.”

“Please.” Cyn pressed her hands to Jamie's back. “Let me go to him. You can find help and come back for me, but if he shoots you, then you can't help me at all.”

Jamie never took his eyes off Thorne. “You're not going anywhere.”

“She is, too,” Thorne yelled. “She's coming with me. Only I know how to deal with her.”

“Soon,” Jamie told Cyn in a carrying voice that Thorne couldn't miss, “the reverend will be dead. He won't plague you or anyone else any longer. There's no reason to worry.” Jamie's voice was devoid of alarm, as bland as oatmeal. He might have been discussing the weather.

Thorne stared in disbelief, then roared with hilarity. “Me, dead? I'm God's servant, you miserable reprobate. He protects me and watches over me. He—”

“He can have you,” Bruce stated in a strong, deep voice, “when I'm through. That is, if there's anything left.”

Cyn stared in amazement as Bruce strode out of the woods to stand in front of her. He was dressed as he'd been when she left him, shirtless and sweaty, his jeans covered in grass stains. He must have followed her the moment she left. But how? He didn't have a car.

Thorne went wide-eyed. “Where did you come from?”

“Your worst nightmare, of course.” Bruce smiled, and before Cyn could stop him, he ended up in front of both her and Jamie.

“I told you it'd be okay,” Jamie said.

Visitation was obviously ripe with nuts. “You
are
daft! Nothing is okay.”

“Hush, honey.”

Her incredulous gaze swung back to Bruce. How dare he show up now, when everything was a mess, and then have the nerve to give her such a ridiculous order. “I will not hush! What are you doing here?”

“You went off without me. You want to tell me why?”

Cyn stared at his back, at his loose-limbed posture that she knew meant he was prepared for battle. “No. It's not exactly a good time for a chat.”

“Why not?” Bruce flexed his shoulders, curled and uncurled his fists in a most menacing way.

“Thorne's not going anywhere, and if he tries to pull that trigger, Bryan or Joe or Scott—maybe all three—will fill him with bullet holes.”

Thorne whipped around, looking in all directions. “You lie.”

“I never lie.”

Cyn had the hysterical urge to laugh. No, Bruce never lied.

Jamie, the fool, put a hand on Bruce's shoulder. “You haven't made things clear enough to her.”

“How's that?”

Jamie turned to Cyn. “Tell him why you came to see me.”

She shook her head.

“Fine.” Bruce started toward Thorne. “I'd just as soon take care of him first anyway.”

She did
not
want Bruce to do that. In a rush, Cyn explained, “I wanted to ask Jamie if you were satisfied with me.” Bruce halted, but kept his back to her so he could watch Thorne. The man was still frantically trying to locate any other guns, but the trees surrounding them were so tall and thick that spotting anyone or anything was impossible.

“Go on.”

Cyn swallowed. “I wanted to know if you regretted your deal.”

“What deal is that?”

She could not believe they were discussing this now, with a madman threatening to shoot them, and Jamie listening in his blank, nothing-touches-me way that she didn't buy into for a moment. “Marrying me just to keep me safe.”

Bruce nodded. “I see.” He moved closer still toward Thorne. “You could have asked me, you know. You don't have to come to Jamie.”

Visitation, apparently, led straight down the rabbit hole. “Okay, I'm asking now.” She'd do anything to keep the reverend distracted, and to keep Bruce from rushing him.

“Of course I married you, and of course I want to keep you safe.” Bruce shrugged. “I love you. No one is ever going to hurt you again.”

Given that Thorne still had a gun, Cyn thought that vow might've been a little precipitous, but she didn't quibble.

Jamie leaned near her ear and whispered, “Told you it would all work out.”

How could Jamie be so ridiculously urbane at a time like this? They had bigger problems. “He really loves me?”

Bruce let out a feral growl. “What in the world did you think? That I just like running in circles around you, trying to figure you out? You've made me nuts, Cyn.” And then, more quietly, “But yes. I love you.”

“Enough.”
Outraged, Thorne started toward them. Bruce matched him step for step, always staying in front of Cyn, until the distance between the two men was dangerously close.

Thorne's eyes were wild, his face flushed. Spittle formed at the corners of his mouth as he screamed, “You're heathens, sick and promiscuous and God will thank me for ridding the world of you.”

He raised his gun, and it wasn't Bruce he aimed for.

It was Cyn.

Thorne focused only on her, as if no one else existed. His tone almost mournful, he said, “I hadn't wanted it this way, damn you. I wanted time alone with you, to make you repent. But—”

That awful threat went unfinished. Thorne had let Bruce get within striking distance, and strike he did. In one agile leap, Bruce landed hard against Thorne and they both went down to the gravel roadway.

The gun fell from Thorne's grip, not that Bruce noticed. He squeezed Thorne's throat with one hand, and with the other landed a heavy fist against his jaw. The man's head snapped to the side. Another blow and blood gushed from his nose.

Bruce's fists were fast and full of fury, landing on the reverend's face, his upper body, his gut. Thorne quit fighting by the third punch. By the fifth, he wasn't moving at all.

Sobbing, Cyn shook Jamie. “Stop him.”

Jamie glanced down at her. “Why?”

“Why?”
She shoved Jamie to the side and ran down the rough gravel road to where Bruce continued to rain blows on the fallen man. “Bruce! Stop it.”

Either Bruce didn't hear her, or he ignored her. He pulled back his fist yet again, and Cyn grabbed his arm. His biceps were huge, knotted with anger. She held on with all her might. “Bruce,
no.”

He hesitated, breathing hard and fast.

“Please stop. He's done for. Please, for me, don't hit him anymore.”

“He was going to shoot you.”

Bruce's fury was a live thing. “I know.” Cyn had no delusions about Thorne's intentions, but she knew Bruce, and he might regret his actions later.

“He can't hurt me now. Please stop.”

Bruce turned to her, saw the tears streaming down her face, and all his rage melted away. He released Thorne and came to his feet. His knuckles were bruised and bloody, but he paid no mind to that.

He cupped Cyn's face in tender, trembling hands. “You're okay, baby?”

Sniffing, she nodded. “Yes.”

“Then why are you crying?”

She half laughed, half sobbed again. After all they'd been through, he had to ask that? “I swear, you are the craziest man I know.”

Jamie cleared his throat. “Bad move, Thorne.”

Bruce jerked around, saw Thorne had risen on one elbow and had the gun in his hand. One of his eyes was completely swelled shut, the other was open only a slit. Blood covered his face, trickling from his nose, his mouth, a cut on his temple.

In a barely audible slur, Thorne said, “Fucking whore,” and then a bullet hit him in the arm. Another landed, and another.

Bruce pulled Cyn into his chest, turning away from the gruesome scene, protecting her the best he could.

Howling, Thorne fell back in a dead faint.

Cyn blinked as Scott, Joe, and Bryan seemed to crawl right out of the forest around them. “You didn't lie.”

“Never do.” Bruce loosened his hold on her so she could catch her breath. His chest was sweaty, but Cyn didn't care. He smelled of freshly mown lawn, of man and security and she loved it.

She loved him.

She stared at Reverend Thorne, lying still as death. She felt Bruce's heart, beating strong and sure. Calm settled over her. “It really is over.”

“Yes. The past is dead.” Bruce tipped up her chin. “But your life, your future, is just beginning.”

“With you.”

He rubbed a thumb along her jaw. “You might as well understand now—I won't have it any other way. When I married you, it was forever. I love you and I'm never letting you go.”

New tears dampened her cheeks, but they were tears of relief and happiness.

Joe strode over and removed Thorne's gun. Scott tapped him on the shoulder, and with a shrug of apology, Joe handed it to him. “Sorry,” Joe said with a load of insincerity. “Habit.”

Bryan checked the man's pulse. “He's alive, just barely.”

“Figures.”

“Knock it off, Joe.” Scott pulled out his radio and called for an ambulance, while Joe and Bryan worked on Thorne to stop the sluggish blood flow from his wounds. With that accomplished, Scott graciously gave explanations to Cyn.

“There were prints on the wrapping from your journal, only they weren't Palmer's. I called to tell Bruce that the bastard after you was still loose, but Bruce wasn't home, so I called Bryan's cell phone.”

“And of course,” Cyn said, still a little dazed by it all, “everyone in Visitation just naturally carries a gun.”

Bryan stood, looking so much like Bruce, but with such a different air. While Bruce had handled himself with competence, he wasn't nearly as at ease in the grisly, bloody situation as Bryan. “I gave all that up when I married Shay, but yeah, since trouble followed you to town, I've been armed.”

“Not me,” Joe said. “I had to borrow one from Scott.”

Bryan pointed a finger at Cyn. “I told Scott that we were tailing you since you decided to skip off on your own.”

“I did not skip,” Cyn said, but she felt guilty because she had inadvertently endangered them all.

“And I thought it was safe.”

Jamie folded his arms over his chest. “You disregarded my warning. I told you that until I said otherwise, the threat would still be there. I told you not to be fooled.”

Cyn winced. “Yeah, well, I remember that
now.”

“How'd
you
get involved?” Jamie asked Joe.

Joe rubbed his hands together. “I just lucked into this little dragnet. I was out shopping, minding my own business. Then Scott passed me in a hurry, so naturally I followed. We all met up down the road and came in through the woods.”

Bryan shook his head at Cyn. “Once Bruce realized you might really be in trouble, I had to practically sit on him so we could make plans. He was all set to charge in like a damn hero.”

“He is a hero,” Cyn insisted.

And the men all nodded and laughed.

Bruce said, “I'm never going to live that down now, you realize.”

Joe rubbed the back of his neck. “The thing is, I knew if you were here, and in danger, odds were Jamie was hanging around, too. And I figured he'd look out for you.”

The ambulance sirens suddenly split the morning, halting all conversations. Cyn watched the paramedics work, trying to stabilize Thorne, but they were too late. Reverend Thorne faded away, just as Jamie had claimed he would.

It wasn't Bruce's beating, and it wasn't the bullet wounds. It was the rock Thorne's head landed on when he collapsed back. Not that anyone was suffering guilt or looking to escape blame. Reverend Thorne would not be missed.

It was just as the ambulance drove off that Cyn felt it. She moved away from Bruce and scanned the area. Jamie, the sneak, had separated himself and was ready to do his patented disappearing act.

Cyn stormed toward him. “Oh no, you don't. Not this time.”

His back still to her, Jamie froze comically in mid-step. He even seemed to cringe.

“Not another single step, mister! I mean it.”

Her determination grew as Cyn kept walking, and then she was jogging, and finally sprinting. Jamie heard her rapid approach and turned in time to catch her when she threw herself against him.

She was bawling again, but she couldn't help it and she didn't even care. If even one of the big oafs staring at her said a single word, she'd sic Alyx Winston on him.

Jamie looked like a man sent to the gallows. Cyn didn't care about that, either.

She dried her eyes on his shirt and sniffed, then leaned back to see his face. Above his shaggy beard, his eyes were black with caution. Cyn smiled. “Thank you.”

Jamie ill at ease was a sight to see. He all but stammered—then, in a voice too low to hear, he muttered something.

“What did you say?”

He scowled darkly. “I said it was nothing.”

“Oh, it was something all right. Something wonderful—like you.”

Jamie glared at Bruce. “Don't just stand there. Come and get her.”

Joe nudged Bryan. “He's sort of lost his aplomb, hasn't he now?”

“Looks like it to me.”

Scott sympathized. “A woman can do that to you.”

Joe leaned around Bryan to stare at Scott. “You're not talking about my baby sister, are you?”

Scott walked away, but not before saying, “You really do need to quit calling her that.”

“Why?”

“Because her relationship to you ruins my good mood every time.”

Laughing, Bruce strode over to his wife, but he didn't pull Cyn away. Instead, he embraced Jamie and Cyn both. “I agree with her, Jamie. You are one incredible man, and I can't thank you enough for being here with her.”

Jamie cleared his throat. “I knew she was coming here and I knew Thorne would be here, too. He's been hiding in the mountains, creeping into town under disguise every now and then.” He rolled one shoulder. “So of course I came.”

Bruce stepped back and gently pried Cyn loose. She mopped at her eyes, and smiled a beautiful smile.

“If there's ever anything we can do for you, please let us know.”

Instead of meeting her gaze, Jamie stared up at the late morning sun. “Sure.” And without another word, he turned and walked, not so silently this time, into the woods.

Cyn watched him go, and for some reason, her heart was breaking. By choice, Jamie was so alone in the world. “He's a very special person.”

“Much like my wife.” Bruce put his arm around her shoulders and together they walked back to the car. “Know what I want to do?”

He'd whispered that question, so Cyn had an idea that it was something private. “Tell me.”

“I want to go home and shower with my wife, then crawl into bed and just hold her, to reassure myself that she's fine, and that she's all mine.”

Cyn nodded. “A great idea. Let's do it.”

But a few hours later, when they were curled together beneath a sheet, Cyn grew contemplative again.