Cherise Sinclair - Edge of the Enforcer

Damn, he didn’t want to leave her.

The next morning, Lindsey sat beside Zander’s hospital bed. The nurse had pushed the chair next to the bed so Lindsey could reassure herself of his survival by holding his hand. His warm, warm hand.

God. She’d come too close to losing him. By the time the ambulance had arrived, his tanned face had been gray-white and his skin terrifyingly cold.

All because he’d had to be a darned hero. Virgil said Zander hadn’t waited, had busted open the door and jumped through. And, sheesh, instead of aiming at Morales, who had a gun, Zander had shot Parnell because his knife had threatened her.

Dammit. Morales’s bullet had almost killed him. “Stubborn, bullheaded idiot,” she whispered to him. She attempted to smile as she remembered how he’d told the detective “mine” in that possessive tone of voice.

She really was his—and wouldn’t want to belong to anyone else. As her eyes filled, she glanced upward, where her father undoubtedly leaned on heaven’s fence, one boot up on a rail, watching the goings-on of his children. Hey, Daddy, are you there? I have a man you’d be proud to call son.

She could swear she saw his approving nod.

Blinking happily, she toyed with Zander’s fingers. Scars on the knuckles, calluses on the palm and fingers. Short, broken fingernails. A man’s hand—the Enforcer’s hand. Able to deal out punishment as well as pleasure. Someone she could lean on, and in turn, her love would make him stronger.

From the hallway, Dixon’s raised voice drew her attention. After a minute of listening, she giggled. Were Dixon’s flirtations finally going to come to an end? Feeling unrepentantly snoopy, she pushed her chair a few inches over so she could watch the show through the partially open door.

“Listen, sweet cheeks, you don’t have any say over me,” Dixon was saying. Hands on hips, he glared up at Stan.

Stan’s low voice was very direct. “Wrong, boy. We’re going to explore this—all the way.” He curled his hand around Dixon’s neck and pulled him closer. “I’ve been looking for someone like you.”

“Someone to fuck…” The bitterness in Dixon’s voice made Lindsey’s heart hurt. And worried her. He’d been burned enough times he was getting cynical. On the other hand, Stan seemed pretty special. C’mon, Dix, take the leap.

“Do I look like a man who has trouble finding fuck-buddies? Seriously?”

Lindsey half grinned. A real-life agent, drop-dead handsome, tall, and built. Right—Stan probably got more offers than Zander.

As realization dawned in Dixon’s face, he shook his head. “Then what do you want?”

Stan gave a low laugh. “I want a submissive. With a big heart. And loyalty. I hadn’t expected courage, but damn, you have that to spare.”

Dixon stared up into Stan’s face as if he’d found a hero—and he had. Even better, he’d found a Dominant who would appreciate him for who he was. Would give him the control he wanted. Would take care of him.

As Dixon wrapped his arms around Stan, Lindsey let out a happy sigh.

The fingers she was clasping moved. Zander opened his eyes and tilted his chin toward the hallway. “I’m drowning in bleeding hearts. Can you close the door?”

As she rose, the stitches in her stomach protested. Ow, ow, ow. Her jeans were only half-zipped and still felt as if the waist was rubbing open her wounds.

Zander’s gaze darkened. “Babe.” When he reached for her, she evaded him and walked across the room.

As she closed the door, Dixon lifted his head from Stan’s shoulder and smiled at her, his eyes filled with joy.

Stan winked at her.

She returned to her chair and settled carefully.

“When was your last pain med?” Zander asked.

She laughed lightly. “I’m supposed to ask you that.”

“Hurts like fuck, but I’m alive.” He held his hand out. “How about you?”

“Same.” Nothing felt as good as having his hand around hers. “I love you.”

“I know.” His lips twitched when she glared.

“That’s not how you’re supposed to answer.” A tap on the door prevented her from smothering him with his own pillows. “Come in!” One painful trip across the room was enough for a while.

Dixon and Stan entered, followed by Virgil with his wife, Summer. Jake maneuvered in, using crutches.

Right behind him was Kallie, swearing under her breath at his stubbornness. She winked at Lindsey. “Hey, we heard this was where we were supposed to store the cripples.”

“Somebody fetch me a quirt,” Jake muttered, frowning at her.

“This is the place. Got a spot for you, Jake.” Lindsey pointed to the other chair in the room and said to Kallie, “I hope he didn’t punish you too badly for helping find the road.”

“Hell, no.” Kallie wrinkled her nose at her husband as he lowered himself into the chair. “He moves like a moose on stilts; he’s sure not going to catch me.”

“My mobility, sprite”—he swatted her butt—“will change. And be warned, I’m counting your insults.”

Somehow she didn’t look very worried.

Simon and Rona came in, followed by Becca and Logan, who held his son in one arm. Ansel saw all the people and gave a baby squeal, kicking to show his approval.

Lindsey’s heart lifted. “He doesn’t look any the worse for wear. I need cuddles from him, please?” Her attempt to hold her arms up for the baby was abruptly halted by the pull on her stomach. She winced. “Never mind.”

Beside her, Zander made a low growling noise. Logan’s eyes turned a steely blue, and Simon’s jaw tightened.

Doms. “Jeez, guys, lighten up. It’s only a few cuts.” Lindsey looked to the women for support.

Instead, Rona enfolded her in a gentle hug. “You… Crom, girlfriend, don’t you ever…” Unable to finish, Rona huffed out a breath and kissed Lindsey’s cheek, before returning to Simon and pushing her face against his shoulder.

Becca’s eyes were filled with tears.

Lindsey heaved a sigh. The women were as bad as the men, and they were going to make her cry. “Get a grip, y’all. Everybody survived, mostly intact. And I’ll make Zander hold me if I have nightmares.”

The tightness eased from Logan’s face. “It helps to have someone.” He wrapped an arm around his wife and nuzzled her temple.

Lindsey smiled at him before glancing at Simon. “I want to thank y’all for your extremely bossy behavior in making me talk about Victor’s death. Parnell figured I’d never reveal being wanted for murder, so he didn’t expect anyone to come looking for me.” But they had. God. She blinked hard and looked around the room. “And thank you all for the rescue.”

“Ah, speaking of which, I almost forgot your toy.” Stan dug in his pocket and handed over her knife in a new sheath. “This is yours, right?”

“Hey, thanks.” Lindsey checked it, slipped it into her own pocket, then squeezed Zander’s arm. She’d told him how it had saved her and Becca and Ansel.

His eyes darkened with memories, but after a second, his dimple appeared. “Every cowgirl should have a knife.”

“Lindsey.” Stan’s voice was serious. “Time for less enjoyable topics.”

Her heart sank despite the fact that she’d known what was coming. “I need to go back to Texas, right?”

“You do. Immediately. I doubt you’ll end up being charged once all is said and done. All the same, you have warrants stacked up that must be cleared.”

“Will I have to go to jail?”

A shadow darkened his face. “It’s not my decision or jurisdiction, and—”

“No. You won’t,” Simon said firmly. “As it happens, Xavier was quite annoyed at being left out of the fighting.” His lips quirked. “So he and Abby are flying to San Antonio today. They—and your new lawyer—will meet you at the airport when you arrive. Your lawyer doesn’t think you’ll need bail; nonetheless, you’re covered if it’s necessary. No jail, Lindsey.”

“Xavier can’t up and simply leave.” She stared at him. “He has a business and—”

“And a very bossy wife who loves you like a sister,” Rona said.

Zander squeezed Lindsey’s fingers. “Thank Xavier for us both. I didn’t want her there alone, but the doctor won’t discharge me for a couple of days.”

As relief relaxed her muscles, Lindsey sagged in her chair. She wouldn’t have to spend Christmas in jail.

She was going home. To Texas.

***

On Christmas Eve, Lindsey settled down with her niece in front of the fireplace. How many hours as a little girl had she spent on this hearth, watching the fire and daydreaming about her future?

The path to her future sure had gotten derailed, hadn’t it?

She shook her head, enjoying the piney fragrance from the massive Christmas tree in the corner. Angels lined the mantel, a knee-high Santa Claus at the door held umbrellas, and the antique nativity scene was set up in the dining room. All so familiar.

It was reassuring to return and see Melissa continuing the old traditions. Since only Melissa had an interest in ranching, she’d taken the central ranch and her two sisters the outer areas.

Her mouth twisted. If Mandy had drawn the high card, she’d have gotten the border property, and Victor would have gone after her. Thank God that hadn’t happened.

Clattering noises came from the kitchen where Mama and Mandy were preparing a stew. Rather than cooking, Lindsey had been assigned the Emily-sitting chore—which wasn’t a hardship in the least. She nuzzled the baby’s soft blonde curls. “Did you know you’re my favorite niece?”

Lindsey looked up as Melissa came in. “Hey.”