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“And you’re leaving so I can take care of it.” But then he got a bad thought. Really bad. “Did you have something to do with the guy in the SUV who ran into me? Let me rephrase that. Did your scummy father have anything to do with it?”
Because Laurel wasn’t the sort to get her hands dirty. She just associated with the lowlifes who did.
Her eyes widened and she shook her head. “Someone tried to hurt you?” And yeah, it sounded like a genuine question from a concerned, surprised woman.
“Is your father responsible for my bloody shoulder and bashed-up truck?” he pressed.
It wouldn’t have been Herschel Tate’s MO to be so obvious. He was more a knife-to-the-back sort of guy. Too bad Jericho had never been able to pin any crimes on him. Especially one big crime.
The murder of Jericho’s own father.
Twenty years later, the pain of that still cut him to the bone. And that pain spilled over onto Laurel because she’d refused to see the truth or help him put her murdering father behind bars.
“I don’t think my father was involved with anything that happened to you tonight.” Laurel shook her head again. “But I can’t be positive.”
Well, that was a first—having her admit that her precious daddy could do anything wrong. But Laurel didn’t elaborate. She hurried past him, and for a moment Jericho thought she was leaving. Instead, she came back from the kitchen with some paper towels that she pressed to his shoulder.
Jericho eyed her. Her nursing attempt put her fingers in contact with his bare skin. “How’d you get here?” he snapped. “Did your father or somebody else drop you off?”
Though he couldn’t imagine why Herschel would do that. The hatred Jericho felt for the man was mutual.
“No. My father doesn’t know I’m here. No one does. I parked behind your barn.”
Since he had a big driveway and side yard, there was only one reason to park behind the barn. To conceal the vehicle. Jericho couldn’t think of a single good reason for her to do that, but since he was a cop, he could think of some bad ones.
“Start talking,” he insisted.
Laurel didn’t do that, though. She kept dabbing at the cut. And more. Now that she was this close to him, Jericho could see her bottom lip tremble a little. He could also see that the whites of her eyes had some red in them.
Had she been crying?
“Your hair’s longer,” she said, her breath hitting against his neck right next to the hair she was apparently noticing. “It suits you.”
That earned her a flat stare, and to end the little touching session, Jericho snatched the paper towels from her. “Are you really here to chat about my infrequent trips to the barbershop?”
“No.” She moved away from him, repeated her answer and tucked a strand of her own loose hair behind her ear. “But we need to talk.”
“So you’ve said. Well, start talking. Jax is waiting on me to come back to the station so we can go after the guy who hit my truck.”
Jericho made sure he sounded impatient enough. Because he was. But Laurel didn’t seem to be in a hurry to start this conversation that he didn’t exactly want to have. So, Jericho started it for her.
“If you’re here on your father’s behalf—to try to make some kind of truce or deliver a threat—I’m not in a truce-making or threat-listening kind of mood.”
“It’s not anything like that.” Laurel paused, pulled in her breath. “It’s about...marriage.”
Jericho went still. The woman sure knew how to keep him surprised. After all, Laurel was already married. Or at least she was supposed to be. But now that he had a better look at her left hand, she wasn’t sporting a flashy diamond or a wedding band.
She followed his gaze to her ring finger and shook her head. “I didn’t go through with the wedding. I called it off.” Laurel looked up at him, clearly waiting, as if she expected him to ask why.
He’d rather eat a magazine of bullets first. But if the gossip was right, Laurel was supposed to be married to one of her father’s rich lackey lawyers. Considering that she, too, was an equally rich lackey lawyer, it was no doubt a match made in some place other than heaven.
“Look, Laurel, like I keep saying, this isn’t a good time—”
The rest of what he was about to remind her just stopped there in his throat when she opened her hand, and Jericho saw the small blue stone. She’d obviously been holding it for a while, because there was a mark on her palm.
“You remember what this is?” she asked.
Yeah, he did. And while it would seem petty to deny that, Jericho nearly went with petty.
Nearly.
“It’s the rock we found on the banks of Mercy Creek twenty years ago,” he supplied.
“We went walking there after we, well, afterward.” Laurel tipped her head toward the bedroom, to the very place where she’d lost her virginity to him. “We found the two rocks. They were almost identical in size, shape and color. We’d never seen rocks that color before, so we decided it was some kind of sign, maybe even good-luck charms.”
Jericho couldn’t remember if he’d paid his electric bill this month, but he remembered that twenty-year-old conversation with Laurel. Every blasted word of it. And he knew that silly teenage notions of signs and charms like that came with a price tag attached.
“You said we’d each keep one, and that this rock could be a marker of sorts. Payment for any favor down the road. Anything,” Laurel added. “In all these years, I’ve never used it because we said it should be for something very important. And we’d know just how important it was because we’d used this marker.”
Jericho nodded. “I figured that’d come more in the form of a favor, like buying you a horse or something. Or if you needed me to whip somebody’s butt for messing with you.”
And then it hit him. What this visit might really be about. “You don’t think we’re going to make the same mistake again of having sex?” he asked.
“A mistake,” she said under her breath. Not exactly an agreement, but Jericho couldn’t quite put his finger on the tone in her voice. And he certainly didn’t see a let’s-have-sex look in her eyes.
Not exactly, anyway. Of course, when it came to Laurel and him, there was always heat. Unwanted heat. But heat nonetheless.
“No. I’m not here for that,” she verified.
“Good.”
His body didn’t exactly agree with that. Never did when it came to Laurel, but after that last fiasco together, Jericho had learned his lesson. Play with fire. Get burned. Or in their case, get burned bad, because for a couple of hours, it had made him forget her scummy family.
And Jericho had paid for it.
Hell, he was still paying.
It was a good reminder because it made Jericho realize it was time for Laurel to leave. However, before he could even point to the door again, Laurel took his hand and put the rock in it.
“I do need a favor. A big one.” She swallowed hard. “Jericho, I need you to marry me. Tonight.”
Chapter Two (#ulink_8feaef79-77ff-5e73-89c7-73a37eb519ad)
Laurel wished she’d been able to come up with a better way to do this. Hard to come up with anything, though, with the tornado of emotions going on in her head. Of course, Jericho now had some emotions, too.
Bad ones, obviously.
Because the look he gave her let Laurel know that he thought she’d lost her mind. Maybe she had. But she didn’t exactly have a lot of options here, and Jericho was still her best bet.
Even if he didn’t believe that right now.
“Marry you?” Jericho repeated.
He was no doubt remembering the bad history between them. And he probably included their last one-nighter in that heap of bad history.
“It’ll take more than a rock to make that happen.” He cursed, dropped it on the table. “What’s going on here?”
Laurel had figured that would be his first response—anger and demands. It was certainly hers when this idea had first come to her. Still, she was hoping the blue rock and the promise that had gone along with it would buy her enough time so she could explain things before Jericho kicked her out.
No such luck.
He turned as if he was about to show her to the door, but then stopped. And studied her with those cop’s eyes. The warm amber-brown color wasn’t so warm right now, but Laurel had firsthand knowledge that they could be.
Every part of Jericho could be warm.
Again, it was firsthand knowledge fed by years of experience of kissing him. Touching him, wanting him. And then having that warmth vanish and cool to iceberg temperatures like those outside right now.
Well, except for that night over two years ago.
Those two years seemed like a lifetime. For her, anyway. Jericho looked the same except for the slightly longer brown hair. In other words, he still looked like the hot cowboy he’d always been. Maybe it was his DNA, those eyes or the fit of his jeans, but when a woman saw Jericho Crockett, she noticed.
Laurel had been no different.
“I need an explanation,” he pressed. “Like right now.”
Where to start?
She doubted Jericho would want her to get into the little details. Not just yet, anyway. Judging from the impatient stare, he was looking for the condensed version of why she’d called in a very old marker that to him was probably worthless.
Laurel picked up the rock, slipped it into the front pocket of his jeans, careful not to touch too much of him.
“I had a baby,” she finally said. “A son named Maddox. And my father is challenging me for custody.”
It crushed her to say that.
Crushed her even more to think that her father might succeed.
The tears came again, and Laurel tried to blink them back. She’d already cried an ocean of tears, and they didn’t help. Now she had to focus on a fix for this. She had to do whatever it took to save her son.
“A baby?” His gaze skimmed over her body. “You don’t look like you’ve had a kid. And the gossips around town sure haven’t gotten hold of that tidbit.”
“I guess being several hundred miles away has kept the gossips from putting their noses in my business.” Added to that, she’d worked very hard to make sure the news stayed within her family and a very small circle of friends.
For all the good that’d done her.
Jericho huffed, and his hands went on his hips. “So, your father’s challenging you for custody, huh? Guess that means you two had some kind of falling-out. Or maybe you finally learned what a sack of dirt he really is.”
“I’ve always known.” She let that hang in the air for a few moments. “But I stayed for my mother’s sake. As sort of a buffer between him and her.”
He studied her. With some obvious skepticism in his gaze. There was a reason for that. Laurel had indeed defended her father over the years. Had believed his lies when he’d told her that his businesses would all be legitimate. Most of his lies, anyway.
And even that little shred of belief had cost her, big-time.
It’d cost Laurel her freedom. Her safety. It’d also cost her Jericho. What she needed to tell him wouldn’t help, either.
“My mother had cancer and passed away,” Laurel said. “She died two weeks ago.”
“I’m sorry. Losing a parent is hard.” The look of sympathy that he gave her was genuine, but it didn’t last. “I’m guessing after her death was when things fell apart with your father?”
“More or less.” Mainly less, but she’d save that for another time. “I don’t think it’ll come as a surprise to you that my father has influence over several judges. Doctors and psychiatrists, too. He’s trying to declare me mentally and morally incompetent to raise my son. There’s no truth to it,” she added, just in case Jericho doubted it.
Which he probably did.
But he also no doubt believed that her father wasn’t competent to raise Maddox, either.
Jericho stayed quiet a moment. “And you think if you’re married, to me, that your father will...what? Step back from this fight he has with you? Herschel’s never backed off from anything, period.”
Her father wouldn’t do that this time, either. Unless he had no choice. She had to make sure he didn’t get that choice.
Because she needed it, Laurel took a moment, too. “If we’re married, I’d sign over custody to you. Immediately. My father might have enough dirt on me to declare me incompetent, but he can’t do the same to you.”
She hoped.
After all, Jericho had been the sheriff of Appaloosa Pass for well over a decade. He was respected by some. Feared by others. It would be next to impossible to fabricate enough to smear his reputation, and Laurel was hoping a corrupt judge would back down from trying to go after Jericho.
“What kind of dirt does Herschel have on you?” he asked. Of course, Jericho wasn’t going to let that slide.
“My father manufactured some of it. Some of it was my own stupidity in handling one of his business accounts.”
And again, that was an explanation best saved for another day. She hadn’t done anything knowingly, but she had known her father. Had known what he was capable of doing. Now that her father knew the whole truth, he would use anything to hurt her where it hurt the most.
By going after Maddox.
Jericho’s stare got worse. So did his profanity. “Surely there’s somebody other than me who can do this for you. Like your ex-fiancé?”
“He can’t help,” she settled for saying. And, in fact, he was a big part of the problem.
“Really? You’d think the kid’s father would have something to say about you asking another man to marry you.” A muscle flickered in his jaw. “What’s your ex’s name, anyway? Leo-something-or-other.”
“Theo James,” she supplied.
Jericho lifted his right eyebrow. “Oh, I get it now. Theo doesn’t have a clean record, either, and your father will use that to get custody of his only grandson.” His eyebrow went higher. “You probably should have picked a different guy to hook up with, Laurel.”
She had. And Laurel would have told Jericho that, too, if the sound hadn’t shot through the room. Since her nerves were already right there at the surface, she gasped, her body readying itself to fight yet another battle.
But it was just Jericho’s phone.
“It’s Jax,” he said, and quickly answered it.
