Vaughn forgot the coda at the end, and his expression was so panicky, Rachel stopped whistling to let her laughter escape before she plunged into the final chorus. Vaughn caught up with her by the final notes.

She held the last note for as long as she could, watching a rabbit dash across the valley to take refuge in a creosote bush. Smiling so wide she thought her lips might crack, she looked Vaughn’s way, expecting him to feel as bubbly good as she did.

But the look he pinned her with cut straight through her heart like a knife.

Pain like grief dragged his features down. His whole body, from his tense shoulders to the blue eyes that had turned glossy with wetness and the down-turned mouth that was the window to his thoughts, radiated the same kind of implacable longing Rachel knew all too well. If she’d ever doubted whether he felt about her the same aching love she harbored for him, she didn’t any longer.

She winced and tore her gaze away to stare at her saddle horn. Her heart—no, her whole chest—hurt. Her throat tightened. “We can do it. We can wait. We’ve been apart for this long, right? Two more years is a flash in the pan.”

Vaughn’s hand reached across to grab hold of her horse’s reins, commanding it to stop along with his own horse.

“Look at me, Rachel.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, praying for the strength to hold his gaze without breaking down. Reopening them, she met his gaze.

The grief had diminished, replaced by an unreadable mask. He took her left hand in his. “The day I quit smoking, the day you broke things off with me, I left a pack of cigarettes in the glove compartments of both my vehicles so that every time I got in a car, I had to make the choice not to light up. It was torture at first. It almost killed me to say no to my addiction a dozen times a day, every single day. But little by little I got stronger, and denying myself got easier. I’d stopped thinking about lighting up on a daily basis, which was a major milestone for me. That is, until you were shot on Monday. I’ve been dying for a cigarette ever since, but that’s a different issue. My point is, it’s not like that for me with you.”

He swallowed, and Rachel’s heart plunged. She tried to pull her hand away, a futile act of self-protection.

“It doesn’t get easier to say no the more I’m around you,” he said. “It gets harder. It’s getting damn near impossible.”

It sounded like a breakup. His tone, his expression, and his body language mirrored the breakup she issued him seventeen months ago in the hospital parking garage. She shook her head. This can’t be happening. Not now, after I’ve found peace with my feelings for you. “Vaughn, please don’t—”

He cut short her plea. “You’ve got to let me get this all out, Rachel, before I lose my nerve. Because one minute we’re whistling Glen Campbell. and the next, all I can think about is ripping your clothes off and making love to you right there on the ground. Doesn’t matter that I’m working a case and my employees could drive up any minute and see us, because I’m sitting here in the saddle, watching you, and running arguments through my brain trying to justify it, like I did in the stable. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I’m helpless to fight my need to be with you when you’re nearby.”

When she was nearby. That meant he wanted her to go. The realization enraged her as much as it devastated her.“Say it,” she said. “You have to say it or I’m not going to believe you could really be asking it of me, after all we’ve been through.”

His jaw tightened, and when he spoke, it was through gritted teeth. “I need to ride the rest of the way alone, and when I get back to your house to return Disco, you need not to be anywhere I can find you.”

Rachel wrenched her face over her right shoulder, as far from Vaughn’s scrutiny as she could manage. She yanked her hand again, and this time he let her pull away. Her stomach lurched so violently saliva pooled in her mouth like she might throw up. “This is what you want?”

“No. But it’s what I have to do. I know it’s too much to ask, but I need you to help me be strong, Rachel. Please go.”

Time slowed down. Rachel heard every jingle of the horses’ tack, every rock they kicked as they shifted their feet. Her heartbeat boomed in her ears.

“This trail will lead you straight to the graffitied boulder. You should find it, no problem,” she said, each word carefully measured so as not to reveal her utter anguish. “Rudy or Damon will help you get Disco settled in the stable.” Stretched to the limit of her endurance, she couldn’t say the word good-bye. Couldn’t even turn her head to look at him one last time. She turned Growly downhill and urged him into a trot.

A year. Probably more like two. It had seemed such a manageable challenge. But now, she couldn’t imagine a worse fate.

What would’ve happened if he hadn’t stopped himself from pulling her off the horse into a passionate kiss? What if he’d really made love to her on the ground like he wanted? In the end, it would’ve made it even harder for them to stay away from each other, and the pain of separation would’ve hurt her even worse than this moment did. But she couldn’t stop wishing he’d done it anyhow. It would’ve been worth it to hang on to the peace and happiness she’d felt for a few more fleeting moments.

Chapter Fourteen

Vaughn hated the idea of crawling into his empty bed enough that he only stopped by home for a quick shower after leaving Rachel’s property before holing up in his office with paperwork until three o’clock in the morning rolled around.

At three, he unlocked his safe and added a Sig 229 to his ankle, backup for his S&W side piece. He readied his favorite M4 rifle and added two magazines to his belt. After locking up the office, he made the twenty-minute drive to Tucumcari, where he was meeting the rest of his team. The time had come to transfer Wallace Meyer Jr. from the hospital to the jail.

When he arrived, Deputies Kirby and Molina were already standing guard at the entrance to the hospital’s underground employee parking garage. Reyes patrolled the aisles of cars, his sidearm drawn. Vaughn pulled to the curb adjacent to the elevators and stepped from his car, leaving the engine idling. He adjusted his flak vest and snapped a magazine in place on the M4. He and his team had worked out the details of this transfer days ago, beefing up their usual transfer security so that every single member of his department was involved. If El Diente made an appearance, they were ready for him.

Stratis and Binderman were assigned to transport Wallace Meyer Jr. in his wheelchair via elevator. The parking structure was dead silent as Vaughn and Reyes waited, save for a drain on the east wall, which dripped every thirty seconds or so into a pothole filled with water. He hadn’t noticed until Reyes pointed it out, but now he was counting the time between drips, like some of Reyes’s neurosis was rubbing off on him.

Great.

Vaughn’s radio chirped. It was Stratis.

“We’re at the elevator.”

“Roger that,” Vaughn answered, gesturing to Reyes. Showtime.

Vaughn alerted Kirby and Molina through the radio that they were a go, then opened the back door of his squad car as the elevator mechanism whirred behind the closed door. In another minute, the door opened. Stratis exited first. He nodded at Vaughn, then stepped aside for Junior’s wheelchair, pushed by Binderman. Junior wore a flak vest like the rest of them. Unlike de Luca, though, he didn’t look the least bit nervous or scared.

Vaughn stood outside his closed driver’s side door, surveying the lot along with Reyes while Binderman and Stratis loaded Junior.

Stratis closed the door. “Clear.”

So far, so good.

Binderman abandoned the wheelchair curbside to walk to his squad car, then he and Stratis walked to their respective squad cars as Vaughn slid behind the wheel of his.

He glanced at Junior in the rearview mirror. He looked pale, weak. His hair was plastered flat against his head and the holes in his ears sagged toward his shoulders. “Morning, sunshine.”

Junior grunted. At least he was listening.

Vaughn pulled away from the curb and followed Stratis up the exit ramp, and past Kirby and Molina’s squad car. Traffic was nonexistent. In another five minutes, they’d be at the jail and Vaughn could breathe normally again. Behind him, his teams’ squad cars pulled into view. They drove without lights or sirens, nice and easy through the dark, empty streets.

“We brought the whole gang out to drive your ass four miles, Junior. Are you ready to come clean to me about who you’re working for and where Baltierra is?”

Junior remained silent, staring dully out the window.

Stratis turned left onto the street that led to the back entrance of the jail. Vaughn followed, as did Binderman, Reyes, and Kirby and Molina. Two more miles on a straightaway road until touchdown.

“I’ve got a question for you.”

Junior huffed.

“Shawn Henigin was scoping out the Sorentino place. He stayed there a couple months ago. Any idea why?”

“What do I look like, his mother?”

Vaughn drummed his fingers on the wheel. “Are you using the Sorentino property to move drugs toward Devil’s Furnace?”

“I’m not saying another word without my lawyer.”

“Ah, your daddy trained you good.”

“Screw you.”

He watched through the mirror for Junior’s expression when he said, “We caught up with Henigin yesterday. Did you hear about that?”

Silence.

“Yeah. Personally, I was excited by the opportunity to cut him a deal to flip on you and Jimmy, but he’s not talking.”