Page 87 of The Last Dance You Saved
Steele must have felt the same way, because he grumbled, “This isn’t a good idea, Marquess. Let the authorities handle it.”
“I agree,” he responded, and the roiling in my stomach slowed. “I said I’d go to LA, but I didn’t say I wasn’t letting the police arrest him. I’m not angry enough, or dumb enough, to storm a hotel room if he’s the one who shot at us yesterday. I didn’t want to say it to Lauren, but what happens at the hotel today is on him. I just want to be there when the police question him. I want to be able to look him in the eye when I ask him about my brother.”
I felt the relief that journeyed over Steele’s face wash over me as well.
Rafe squeezed my hand. “I’d still prefer it if you and Fallon weren’t here. If there’s a chance this wasn’t Adam…if it’s Puzo…” he trailed off.
“If it’s Puzo, he wants you, not Sadie or your daughter,” Steele said. “You leaving the ranch gives him less of a reason to retaliate.”
Rafe didn’t look like he agreed or that he was happy about any of the choices before us, but then again, neither was I. The last thing I wanted was for us to be apart. I’d told him I was staying if he stayed and going if he was going, and I’d meant it. Reading my thoughts in that way he was good at, he ran a finger along my cheek.
“Jim’s right. You’re better off staying away from me until this is over.”
“That’s an argument we need to have when we’ve got more time, Slick. We should be fine here,” I told him, but even as I said it, the sound of gunshots flashed in my head, almost real enough to make me wince. I’d wished I’d had a gun, both last night and the day Chainsaw had taken Mila, and maybe having one now would help steady me. I glanced from Steele to Rafe. “Either of you have an extra handgun you can loan me?”
Rafe huffed out a laugh as if he’d expect nothing less from me, but Steele looked uneasy.
“A dartboard isn’t the only target I can hit. I grew up shooting guns with my brothers. I have a steady hand and good aim. It would reassure me if I had something on me. Something I could use to protect myself and Fallon.”
“We have twenty men arriving within the hour. Some of Puzo’s men are already here. And Wylee’s men will be here this afternoon. There’ll be plenty of guns on site, and I have no desire for one itchy trigger finger to start a Hatfields-and-McCoys type of shootout,” Steele said dryly.
Rafe ignored him. “I’ll get you a gun, but Jim is staying here, so you won’t need it.” When the man started to protest, Rafe kept going. “I’ll take Barry with me. I’d rather you be here with my family, keeping an eye on Puzo.”
Silence bloomed while the two men argued with their eyes in a way that told me they were much more than employer and employee. I’d suspected it. I’d heard the affection in Rafe’s voice every time he’d mentioned the man, but seeing it was a relief. At least there’d been one person on Rafe’s side in a sea of people who’d just let him walk away.
“Let me catch Barry up and call Wylee again,” Steele said, heading for the door. “I’ll meet you at the car.”
Rafe drew me toward the bookshelf he’d splintered the night before. “Let me show you the safe and give you the code in case you need something more. He pressed a rosette on the corner of the shelf’s frame, and the entire unit opened to reveal a large vault door with a round, old-fashioned lock like in a bank. He told me the code as he spun the wheel and then pulled the thick metal door wide. Inside was a room made of solid cement and bricks. One wall was covered with metal shelves holding cardboard boxes while the one at the back was layered with glass cabinets holding an array of weapons.
“That’s a lot of guns,” I said. We had a handful on the ranch for necessity, but neither of my brothers hunted, and we didn’t offer it as an excursion for our guests.
“When the diamonds were found,” Rafe explained, “there was some trouble. It was the Great Depression, and people were sneaking onto the property, not only to get into the mines but to dig holes everywhere and anywhere, thinking they’d randomly find treasure. My great-grandfather had to increase the security, and it got pretty heated from what I understand. He ended up carrying a gun at all times.”
I gravitated to a cabinet with the handguns and a tiny revolver that would almost fit in the palm of my hand. “What’s this?”
“4.25mm Liliput. According to my dad, Great-grandpa Alasdair’s brother brought it home from World War II. If the story is true, he took it from a German he caught trying to infiltrate the Allied lines. It’s a straight shooter. Small enough for you to hide. Ammunition is pretty impossible to find these days, but last I remember, we had some bullets left.” He pulled open several drawers before removing a decrepit box.
“I don’t want to use an antique worth a fortune with only a handful of bullets left in existence. Give me something else,” I told him.
“I don’t give two shits if you use the gun and the ammo to protect yourself or my family, Tennessee. Take it, tuck it away, and use it if you need to. Just be careful. There’s no safety.”
I pocketed the bullets and carefully placed the empty gun in my pocket until I could find something to holster it with.When I turned around, Rafe was right behind me. His hands went to either side of me on the counter, caging me against the shelves.
The space between us was instantly charged, full of heat and electricity, zipping neurons flashing in the air with enough force I could almost see them.
“I hate that you’re staying.” Every syllable he uttered sounded tortured.
I lifted my chin. “I hate that you’re going, especially to see Adam, so I guess we’re even.”
Silence drifted between us. The I love yous we’d shared dangled out there again, tormenting and soothing at the same time. I lifted onto my toes and kissed him softly. Not with heat, not with passion, but with a gentle promise.
“Go,” I whispered against his lips. “Hopefully, you’ll be there and back before the wedding even starts this evening.”
He ran a finger along my cheek. “It’s extra incentive to come home as quickly as possible, because if I’m not here, all of Puzo’s damn relatives and thugs are going to want to dance with you.”
I snorted. “I’m the help, Rafe, not a guest.”
“You’re our guest,” he grunted out. “And believe me, it wouldn’t stop them from asking you to dance…or asking you for more.”
