Dash lost his composure then, roaring with laughter, wiping the tears from his eyes as he tried to get himself under control. Sara wriggled and pushed away from him to stand at arm’s length and frown in annoyance. He only laughed harder.
Grange heard the last remark, having come with the young deputy to ask for Sara’ statement.
“You stabbed a pen right into his hand,” Grange said slowly. “You probably gave him a concussion, and you definitely broke the man’s nose. His face will never be the same. You ruined his designer clothes. You even kicked him in the ass and a few other places.” The men in the room winced. “And he’s going to jail. But your main worry is that you called him names on tape?”
“Bad names,” Sara emphasized. “Really bad.”
Dash had himself almost under control, but that set him off again. He bent over double and propped his hands on his legs and laughed with sheer relief.
Grange shook his head with obvious puzzlement and turned questioningly to Isaac, who shrugged.
“You’ll never understand it. Don’t strain yourself trying,” Carolyn commented acerbically. “Come on, Sara, let’s check you over for injuries. I have medic training, and I see that you’re favoring one foot. You may have broken a toe.”
Sara just nodded. “Thanks,” she said.
Carolyn examined her, but quickly stated that a selection of bruises and a scraped knee were the worst of her damages.
Dash stood by, talking to the deputy, who was going over his initial investigation and Dash’s first contact with the Sheriff days before.
Sara looked back at Dash, who was standing quietly, watching as Martin Brent was led away moaning and complaining about his injuries.
Sara shivered, inexplicably certain suddenly that Martin Brent should be very, very grateful to be alive to complain. The look on Dash’s face...
He turned suddenly and looked into her eyes. The blue intensity of his gaze held her rooted to the spot. He had no trouble reading her fear.
“Don’t be afraid of me,” he said, his voice low and fierce.
Sara moved closer to his side, pulled by the magnetism of his presence.
“You must know I’d never do anything to hurt you. I want to kill that bastard for scaring you, for putting his hands on you. I want him dead. I want his blood on my hands.” His voice was low and vibrating with feeling.
Dash was trying hard not to snarl. Sara was looking at him with those wide eyes and all but shivering with fear. To hell with it. She needed to know what she was dealing with. He wasn’t going to apologize for his anger when another man wanted to abuse his woman.
Sara took his big hands in both of hers, and rubbed them slowly. “Now, his blood is on your hands,” she said simply.
He looked down, shocked to see that it was true. A small streak of blood had transferred from Sara’s hand to his. Martin Brent’s blood. His instant triumph was savage. He shuddered with the effort it took to contain it.
“On our hands.”
“On our hands,” Dash repeated, pulling her hands up to kiss them. “God, Sara, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t! Don’t say you’re sorry.” Her eyes were fierce. “I’m not sorry.
I
fought for myself. I fought for us today. You gave me that.” She tried a smile. It was shaky, but genuine. “You showed me how to fight for us.”
“I didn’t want you to have to fight,” Dash told her fiercely. He took a breath and steadied himself, pulling Sara around the corner and into an empty office.
Facing her again, he rumbled, “I don’t ever want that for you. I don’t want you to know a moment’s fear. I want you safe and sheltered and glowing with happiness every day of your life.” His voice was very deep as he nuzzled the words into her hands.
“Then you’d better plan on marrying me,” Sara said with a little smile, “because nothing makes me glow like you do.”
Suddenly, she was crushed against his hot body. “Thank you, God,” he muttered, making her laugh. “I feel like I’ve waited a lifetime for you to agree to this.”
Sara sputtered with laughter. “Days! Hours! You make it sound like I’ve been keeping you in suspense for years!” There was a pause. “How long would you have waited?”
“Well,” he said, pulling back to gaze into her eyes, “I was pretty sure that by the time the first grandchild came along I could get my ring on your finger.”
Shock was visible on her expressive face. “Grandchild! You were planning to be around that long, were you?”
“Sara, baby, haven’t you figured it out yet? I’m not leaving, ever. You thought Brent was bad. Honey, I’d be so much worse.” His voice was apologetic, warning her softly.
“You wouldn’t stalk me,” she protested.
His eyes were serious. “No, honey, I wouldn’t do that. If you truly didn’t want to be with me, then I would let you go. But, you would have to do the leaving, Sara, because I could never walk away from you. Never.” His kiss was tender on her soft lips. “You own my heart,” he breathed into her mouth. “You own me.”
“I love you,” Sara whispered, her voice quaking, “Dash.”
Their mouths met and clung in a lush affirmation as Sara melted against Dash’s broad chest. It was where she had secretly wanted to be from the moment she first saw him.
A throat clearing in the background made Dash pull back. He grimaced as he looked at his friend.
“If you have a moment, the deputy would like Sara’s statement,” Grange said. “It’s safe out there. Brent is locked in the back of the cruiser outside.”
Dash understood that Grange meant it was safe for him, with the temptation of murdering Brent removed for the moment. He nodded his thanks.
“You have a habit of interrupting,” Dash complained in jest, needling his friend.
Grange picked up the change in mood instantly. “Well, I could have let Isaac come instead,” he mused, hearing the other man behind him, “but the kinky bastard might have just watched.”
Isaac stopped short. “Did I just miss something worth watching?” he asked, looking interested. “I’m left cleaning up your messes, and I don’t get any of the rewards. Maybe Sara should kiss me to help me get over my disappointment.”
The sudden hiss behind Isaac startled everyone, as Carolyn turned on her heel and marched back out through the door she had just entered.
Grange stiffened and threw Isaac a look. “Great work,” he bit out, pushing past Isaac in the doorway to follow Carolyn.
“Shit.” Isaac ran one hand through his already tousled hair. “I didn’t mean that, Sara, I was joking. You know that, right?” His comment was addressed to Sara, but his eyes were on Dash.
“I know.” Dash frowned slightly, obviously considering. He looked at his friend then looked out the door where Carolyn and Grange had gone. “Uh, Isaac,” he said, then grimaced and shook his head.
“Your business,” he finally said.
Isaac grimaced. “Yeah, if I don’t screw it up before it even gets started,” he muttered as he walked out.
Epilogue
A few days after the successful arrest of her stalker, Sara supervised while Dash and Isaac loaded her hand-carved rocking chair into the back of the truck. Dash had insisted on moving everything she owned out of her tiny apartment and into his home without delay. He generously allowed her as much time as she needed to plan their wedding, but only if she was in his bed. Privately, Sara thought he was being a bit high-handed, but since she didn’t really want to be apart from him, either, she didn’t argue.
The life she had dreamed of was finally beginning. Martin Brent had confessed to entering Sara’s apartment and stealing some of her personal items. He was still trying to claim he did it all after an invitation from Sara, but the card he was using to prove it was printed out on a computer, and the general belief was that he had printed it himself. Even his court-appointed lawyer hadn’t seemed too impressed with that evidence.
“I could kill that Nina,” Carolyn muttered beside her. She was watching Nina approach Grange, who was coming down the steps of Sara’s building carrying a large box. “She’s got real nerve showing up here. How did she know where you lived, anyway?” Her usually smooth Southern voice was harsh.
The two friends watched Nina lean in close and trail one red-tipped talon down Grange’s arm. Grange glanced down and subtly moved away. It was the best he could do, as Nina was completely blocking the small gate.
Carolyn was grinding her teeth, but she couldn’t seem to look away. From such a distance, Sara wasn’t sure about Nina’s exact choice of words, but her non-verbal offer was plain to see.
“I’m sure Grange won’t have anything to do with her,” Sara reassured her friend. She didn’t know the story, but it was obvious that Carolyn was upset by Nina’s presence.
“He can do whatever—or whoever—he wants,” Carolyn said fiercely. She walked away and climbed up into the truck.
Sara turned to follow when she was grabbed from behind and swung into a pair of hard arms. She shrieked in surprise, even though she knew it was Dash.
“Last but not least,” he stated smugly as he carried a laughing Sara to his jeep. “Isaac will drive the stuff out to the ranch and we’ll unload while you two ladies cook something appropriately hearty to reward us poor soldiers for all our hard work.”
Dash set Sara on her feet and claimed a slow kiss and then another, tasting her mouth, lingering. “And then after dinner, we’ll get rid of our friends as fast as possible, and you can reward me personally. Very personally.”
His deep voice and intense expression made Sara’s knees feel weak as he helped her into the jeep. She could hardly wait to get back to the ranch. He shut the door behind her and leaned through the open window to kiss her again.
“Very personally,” she agreed softly. “I know the perfect reward.” And she leaned forward, slid her cool hand across his cheek, and whispered hotly in his ear. He whistled through his teeth and backed away from her, grinning.
“Damn. Anytime you want, baby. Anywhere you want. I’m all yours.”
Sara smiled. “Anywhere? Then take me home, Dash.”
He kissed her hand and held it to his heart, thanking the powers that be for his good fortune that this sweet woman was his. He just knew she was the missing piece of his own soul. From the first time he had seen her, he had just known.
“Home,” he said tenderly. “Yes, I’ll take you home.”
THE END
http://www.sirenpublishing.com/lainakenney
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Laina Kenney is a classically trained singer/instructor with a regular job and a deep love of the written word. Her family is supportive of (or perhaps just resigned to) a house full of books in every genre, with ancient history and romance taking up the majority of the space. She cheerfully admits to having a bizarre sense of humor and enough shiny accessories for any ten women. One of the greatest joys in her life is exploring the wonder of testosterone, both in prose and in person.
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