Texas Outlaw (Rory Yates #2)(85)

It’s been a pleasure to work with her. We make good partners.

I can’t help but think we might make good partners off duty as well.

As I’m looking at Ariana and thinking this, I realize a hush has come over the crowd in the station.

“Is that who I think it is?” someone says.

I look up from my daze and see a familiar face standing in the lobby.

Willow.

When she sees me, she rushes through the crowd of people, wraps her arms around me, and gives me a big, long kiss on the mouth.

Someone starts applauding, and then the whole station joins in, laughing and smiling in a setting that has been nothing but grim and serious since investigators started arriving in Rio Lobo.

Willow breaks our kiss and hugs me tight.

“I came as soon as I heard,” she says into my ear.

I hold her close, but I catch myself looking over her shoulder at Ariana, feeling like I’m cheating on both of them.





Chapter 105



INTRODUCING ARIANA TO Willow feels surreal.

Part of it, I think, is just how sleep deprived I am. But on top of that, seeing the two of them shake hands feels like two worlds colliding.

Or maybe two alternate futures.

The expression on Ariana’s face portrays contradictory emotions. She seems genuinely happy for me that my girlfriend is here to support me. But at the same time, she seems subdued, saddened by the reminder that I have a girlfriend. When I explain that Ariana saved my life, Willow is effusive in her gratitude.

I tell Willow that I have a little more work to do before I can beg off from my responsibilities, but Ariana tells me to go ahead and call it a day.

“Go get some sleep,” she says, pushing me playfully toward the door. “You deserve some R and R.”

“You do, too,” I say.

“I’m right behind you,” she says. “I’ll be out of here in fifteen minutes.”

“If anything comes up, call me,” I say.

“No,” Ariana jokes. “Turn your phone off.”

I realize that in all the chaos of these hours, I never recharged my battery. It’s still as dead as a doornail.

“Give yourself one night of rest,” Ariana says. “Then we’ll hit it hard again tomorrow. If I really need to find you, I know where you’ll be.”

Willow and I walk to her rental car, which she picked up at the El Paso Airport. The streets are so crowded that she had to park several blocks away. It would be faster to walk straight to Jessica and Tom’s, but her stuff is in the car. Besides, it’s nice to walk with her. The sun is setting, and the landscape looks picturesque. Willow takes my hand and intertwines her fingers with mine.

When we arrive at Tom and Jessica’s, I carry Willow’s bag and her guitar case—like me, she never goes anywhere without it—and Jessica spots us and rushes out to greet us. She gives me a big hug and then beams at Willow.

“I’ve heard your song on the radio,” Jessica says. “I love it!”

She asks if we want any dinner, but Willow ate a sandwich on the drive and I’ve been living on whatever food arrives at the station. Tonight it was cold pizza. Again.

Jessica offers to make us breakfast, and I consent, telling Willow that she makes the best pecan pie I’ve ever had.

“How’s the intrepid reporter doing?” I ask.

She says Tom is okay. His nose looks like hell, but he hasn’t complained about it. He’s spent almost as much time at the paper as I’ve spent at the police station, putting out a special edition of the Rio Lobo Record and then being interviewed by every major network that sent a news van to town.

“This is his fifteen minutes of fame,” she says jokingly. “He gets to be a big-time journalist for a while. No bandage on his nose is going to stop that.”

Willow and I retreat to my little studio apartment. I unstrap my gun and put it in the safe, honoring Jessica’s wishes to keep it locked up. Then I strip off my boots and sit on the bed. I’m so exhausted that I almost don’t want to go through with the conversation I know I need to have with Willow.

She stands by the window, looking out at the arroyo and the desert hills. She’s wearing blue jeans and boots with a red blouse—nothing fancy, but she still looks like the gorgeous country star that she is. Her golden hair catches the light, and I can’t help but stare. The picture I’m looking at could be her album cover.

Am I really the fool who is going to break up with this amazing woman?

She turns, her face full of worry, and says, “I’ve got something to tell you. I’ve met someone else.”





Chapter 106



IT’S HARD TO describe how I feel about this.

Relieved.

But also hurt.

“I haven’t slept with him,” she says, coming forward and kneeling in front of me. “But I like him and he likes me. I hate telling you this after all you’ve been through, but I wouldn’t feel right if…”

She trails off, but I know what she means.

“I like someone, too,” I admit.

She has an expression that tells me she’s feeling the same as me—relieved and hurt all mixed together.

“It’s that pretty detective, isn’t it?” she says, smiling knowingly.