No Mercy (7 page)

trained at FLETC, too. “He’s been talking about transferring back here if something opens up.”

Dylan didn’t give Belle a chance to ask him another question. Just as her lips parted, he shot

her the question he’d wanted to ask for years. “What happened to you, Belle? Why did you leave?”

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Belle’s skin prickled as everyone at the table went completely silent and looked at her. She

glanced down at the half-eaten slice of pizza on her plate before raising her eyes to meet everyone’s

gaze.

“I can’t tell you why I left.” Belle glanced from one friend to the next. “I wil tell you that it was

bad, but I just can’t talk about it.”

From Dylan’s harsh expression she could see he wanted to shout something like, “Bullshit.” She

wanted to reach out to him, to hold his hands, to tell him how very sorry she was. She wanted to

stroke the line of his jaw and somehow take away the tension.

She pressed on. “I do want to say I’m so sorry for all the worry I caused you all. I never meant

to do that. To be honest, it wasn’t well-planned, but once I realized I had to go, I had to get out of

there.”

“Your stepfather.” The words shot out of Christie’s mouth, startling Belle. “Harvey must have

done something. He abused you.”

Belle’s face heated as she looked away. She knew the moment she did it that it had been a

mistake.

“What did that sonofabitch do to you?” The growl in Dylan’s voice caused Belle to jump.

She swallowed and looked at the stricken expressions on her friends’ faces. For a long time she

couldn’t speak. Everyone remained quiet until she final y got the words out. “Harvey started

physically and sexually abusing me after my mother died. Day by day the abuse escalated.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Christie’s eyes were fil ed with pain for Belle. “We would have

done something.”

“I would have kil ed the bastard.” Dylan’s expression was thunderous. “Hell, he’s probably

around. I can stil do it.”

“Don’t you see?” Belle gave him a pleading look. “That’s why I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want you

to end up in prison. In my mind the only thing I could do was run to escape the abuse.” She reached

out and put her hand over Dylan’s. “Promise me you won’t go after him.”

A jolt went through her at touching him this way for the first time in so many years. Something

strong and tangible, warm and electric traveled between them and she felt the heat of his fury as

well as the depth of his caring.

By the flash of recognition in his eyes, she knew he’d felt it, too. She searched his gaze, looking

into his familiar eyes. Familiar, yet she could see the changes in him that made his expression harder

and tougher than it had been when they were young. Had she done this to him? Or had something

else turned him into a hard man?

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hers. “That bastard hurt you in one of the worst ways imaginable. He deserves to pay.”

“He does…” Belle shook her head. “But that isn’t the way to do it.” Trying to get him to understand

how deeply she felt about this, she shifted her hand so that she could squeeze his. “Please.”

Dylan looked as stubborn as she remembered him to be. He didn’t answer. But through the

connection of their hands, she felt something stirring between them, like he would take her in his

arms and hold her if no one else was around. He gripped her hand tighter and she saw in his eyes

the light of recognition of what she was feeling.

Christie slipped off her end of the seat and went to Belle’s side and eased onto the bench beside

her. Christie rested her head on Belle’s shoulder and put her arm around her. “We’re all here for

you.” Christie raised her head. “We always will be.”

“Thank you.” Belle looked from one friend to the next, her gaze stopping to rest on Dylan’s. “Al

of you.”

Needing to change the subject, her mind flitted back to Nate. The thought of the postcard she’d

received from him made her furrow her brows as a wave of sadness swept over her.

“What’s wrong?” As she hugged Belle, Christie seemed clearly in tune with Belle’s emotions.

“Nate sent me a postcard.” She looked around the table. “I got it the day he died.”

The reaction that went around the table was almost electrified.

Christie’s eyes widened. “I received a postcard from him, too.”

“Got one yesterday.” Leon was frowning. “It was postmarked several days ago but I hadn’t gone

through my mail for a week.”

Marta started digging in her purse. “I picked up my mail from the post office today.” She pul ed

out a colorful postcard of B Mountain—also known as Chihuahua Hil . The mountain’s giant letter B

was made of painted white rocks. “This is from Nate.”

“I got one, too,” Tom said. “It had the Bisbee Mining and Historical Museum on the front and an

odd message on the back.”

Belle’s eyes widened as she looked from one friend to another. “We all received postcards?”

She looked at Dylan who hadn’t said anything. “Did you?”

Dylan nodded slowly. “I found it in his home office when I was conducting a search. He wrote a

note but never mailed it.”

“Why would he write all of us notes on postcards?” Christie looked puzzled.

Leon’s frown deepened. “Unless he was saying goodbye in his own way.”

“Mine was a little strange, too.” Belle looked at Marta who was staring at her postcard. “It was

not like a goodbye note at all.”

The others in the group nodded and indicated their cards also had something odd about them.

Marta pushed aside her paper plate, wiped the table with a napkin, then laid the postcard on the

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Marta,

Been a while since we’ve had a chance to sit down and talk. Hope your wife is doing well

and your kids are keeping out of trouble. Although the CoS never did!

Remember Lindy and the chalkboard incident? One of these days I should apologize. You

think? Nah. That’s one for the memories.

Stay strong.

Love,

Nate

All six of them looked at each other.

Tom shook his head. “Even I know it was Misty and not Lindy.”

Dylan said quietly, “Do each of you have your postcard here?”

Belle shook her head. “I have mine in my hotel room.”

Tom’s was in his office at the hospital, Leon’s was at home, and Christie had left hers in her

other purse. Marta was the only one with her postcard from Nate on hand, other than Dylan, who

didn’t show his.

“I’d like to borrow all of the postcards.” Dylan looked to each one of them. “I think he was trying

to tell us something, and I’d like to figure out what that something is. I’l return all of the postcards

after they’ve been examined. I’l let you know if I find any insights into whatever pain made Nate kill

himself.”

Belle narrowed her gaze. “You don’t real y think his death was a suicide.”

Dylan hesitated, wondering if affirming that belief was the right thing to do. Then he shook his

head. “Even though it’s a presumed suicide, there will stil be a thorough investigation, and I’l need

to see the postcards.”

Tom fil ed the silence that followed Dylan’s statement. “I’ve thought from the beginning that it

just didn’t ring true that Nate would kil himself. It went against his survivor’s nature. And that’s what

Nate was. A survivor.”

Murmurs of agreement traveled around the table.

“So that’s why they postponed releasing his body for the funeral,” Leon said.

“In some ways this makes me feel better, that he may not have taken his life.” Marta handed her

postcard to Dylan. “In other ways it makes me concerned, not to mention angry. Very angry.”

Dylan was looking pretty pissed off too, as he took the card with his free hand. “I’d like to meet

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Nate wrote to you.”

Everyone agreed, and he made sure he had each person’s mobile number in his phone. Dylan

thanked them. “I need to get to the office. I’ve got some things to take care of.”

He focused on Belle, his hand still holding hers. As their gazes remained locked, her skin heated.

Every time she looked at him she felt so many emotions, from the memory of the love she’d had for

him to regret and guilt.

“Can I talk with you for a moment?” His gaze hadn’t left hers. “Privately.”

She didn’t want to be alone with Dylan, too afraid of what he might say to her, or that she might

even break down, but she nodded. She owed him that. He squeezed her hand and then released

her before they got up from the table.

“I’l be right back,” she told the others.

He picked up his Stetson, said his goodbyes, and then she followed him.

They passed through a crowd of noisy teenagers to the front door of the Den. She’d been so

preoccupied with everything her friends had been talking about that she hadn’t noticed the place

filling up. He held open the door and she stepped past him into the coolness of the outdoors.

Heavy dark clouds moved overhead, looking as if they were ready to release more rain at any

moment. He settled his hat on his head and she wrapped her arms around herself, the cowl neck

sweater not fully protecting her from the cold.

“Let’s sit in my truck.” Dylan indicated the big black truck he’d driven earlier. “I’l turn on the

heater and we can warm up.”

She walked at his side to the truck. He unlocked it and helped her into the passenger seat, his

touch burning her skin through her sweater. Her teeth chattered and her arms trembled as he went

around to the driver’s side. She knew her trembling was not entirely from the cold.

After he was inside, his hat set on the back seat and door closed, he started the truck and turned

up the heater. She shivered again as he shifted in his seat to face her. She had to force herself to

meet his gaze.

He looked so different, yet the boy was behind the tough-looking man he’d become. The stubble

on his jaw made him look rugged and she couldn’t believe how big and muscular he was now. She

had the urge to touch him, to run her hands over his broad shoulders, down to his massive biceps

that looked harder than rocks. She wanted to feel the play of muscles beneath her palms as she

rested them on his chest, and let her fingers slide down to his abs.

Their gazes met. Maybe she should have been embarrassed for staring at him so blatantly, but

at one time they’d been more than intimate and had explored each other’s bodies until they had no

secrets.

Not until she started to have secrets that she’d had to keep from him.

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you needed to leave. What I don’t understand is why you didn’t tell me. I would have made sure you

didn’t have to run. I would have kept you safe.”

She looked at her hands in her lap. The cab was warming and her teeth no longer chattered.

When she met his gaze again, she let out her breath. “Please understand. I was a teenager and all

I could think about was escaping my stepfather and keeping you out of jail. Tell me you wouldn’t

have killed him if you knew, Dylan.”

He studied her before staring out the front windshield where raindrops started to hit the surface,

rolling down and leaving long trails. She studied the profile of the man she’d been in love with so

long ago. His features were now somehow harsher. Somewhere beneath that intensity, she knew

there was a gentleness that was now hidden from her. She wanted to trail her fingers along his

stubbled jaw and force him to look at her. Yes, he’d fil ed out in his maturity but beneath that was stil

the boy with the broken heart.

When he looked back to her, the pain in his eyes nearly shattered her heart again. “I don’t think

you’l ever know how bad things were after you left.” His voice was gravelly. “Nothing was ever the

same.”

“I’m so sorry.” She wanted to reach out and hug him to her, but she kept still, her hands in her

lap. “I wish I could, but I can’t change what happened. It was the choice I had to make and it was a

long time ago.”

His jaw tightened. “I do need to get back to work, but we have a lot to talk about. Where are you