Renegade (21 page)

Tippy felt ill at ease at first, in the house that held so many memories for her during the time she was filming a movie there. It had been an emotional and shameful episode in her life. She hadn't been good company, and she'd been cruel to Christabel over Judd. But everything had changed in the past
few months. She glanced up at Cash with quick, possessive eyes, taking care that he didn't see the look. But Christabel did, and she grinned at her.

Tippy's face flushed. Cash saw that, chuckled, and bent to kiss Christabel briefly on the cheek. Tippy had to hide her quick jealousy. Cash didn't belong to her. She had to try to remember that. Was he telling her so, with that deliberate little kiss on Christabel's pretty cheek? All her insecurities rose to the surface. She crossed her arms over her chest and tried to pretend to be cheerful.

Rory was excited about the babies. “They're so little!” he exclaimed, letting Jared curl a small hand around his finger. He grinned. “They're so cute!”

Tippy and Cash laughed at his enthusiasm.

“They're growing like weeds,” Crissy told them all. But she was smiling at Tippy now with the same warmth she showed to Cash.

Cash had Jessamina up in his strong arms, and he was cooing to her, with his heart in his eyes. It hurt Tippy to see him like that, to have a glimpse of how he would have been with their own children. It was immensely painful.

“They're beautiful children,” she told Crissy, smiling to hide the pain.

Crissy held out Jared to her. “Would you like to hold him?” she asked gently.

Tippy's eyes answered the question, filled with hunger and affection. Involuntarily, Tippy took the little boy in her arms and smiled at him. He smiled back. She gasped, her whole face becoming radiant. “Look at that!” she exclaimed.

“They both smile all the time,” Crissy said proudly. “They're just six months old now.”

“Jared is just precious,” Tippy mused, looking down at the little boy with an expression that hit Cash right in the heart.

He hadn't let himself think about anything permanent with her. She was a model, an actress, used to bright lights and fame. But in the past few weeks, she'd melted into Jacobsville and become part of his life. She got along well with everyone. Even the tabloid stories hadn't gotten her down very much. But he had a tabloid story of his own planned for the following week, after a long talk with local physician Lou Coltrain, who'd become his secret accomplice. He was going to clear Tippy's name in one fell swoop and make the tabloids eat their own insults. He wondered how Tippy was going to react. He had high hopes for the two of them.

She looked right holding a baby in her arms. She looked radiant, but a little sad. She looked up and met his eyes. It was like looking into a mirror.

Crissy wanted to suggest that they have another one, but it was too soon. She and Tippy were still walking warily around each other, despite their friendliness. She knew Tippy thought of her involuntarily as a rival, because of their past. But when Tippy looked up at Cash, Crissy knew at once that their days of rivalry were over. If ever two people shared a passion, it was Cash and Tippy.

“How's work going on the hearing?” Crissy asked Cash.

He grinned. “Very nicely, indeed.”

“It's tomorrow night, isn't it?” Crissy added, taking Jared from Tippy.

“You want to show up,” Cash told her. “It's going to be a historic occasion. I have some surprises in store.”

“In that case,” Crissy told him with a grin, “I'll make sure that Judd comes with me!”

 

T
HEY DID SHOW UP
at City Hall, standing with Tippy and Rory at the doorway of city hall, waiting to enter.

Tippy smiled at Crissy and Judd. She'd taken extra pains
with her makeup, and not a single scar or bruise showed on that perfect skin. Tippy's hair was in a long braid, and she was wearing an emerald-green silk pant suit.

“I can't wait to see Cash in action,” Rory whispered to them, then he turned to his companion, a boy about his age. “He says it's going to be a lesson in politics!”

“I think several people are going to get an education to night,” Tippy whispered back, beaming. “Cash has a big surprise for the mayor and the council.”

“I know,” Judd replied, chuckling. “This is the stuff of legends. I wouldn't have missed it for worlds.”

“Neither would we!” Tippy laughed. She coaxed Rory and his friend into the building ahead of her, pausing to exchange a few words with Jordan Powell and Libby Collins, who'd apparently come together. People had linked Jordan with Senator Merrill's daughter, but Libby seemed to have the inside track now.

Tippy and Rory managed to get seats, but there were people standing two abreast all around the sides and back of the meeting room.

Cash was sitting at a table in front of the mayor and city council, with his two officers. The city attorney was at a table across from them, looking uneasy and irritable. On the wall was a huge aerial view of Jacobsville, along with photos of the police department and fire department members on calendars. There was a huge coffeemaker and a snack bar, as well as two telephones.

The mayor and two council members were whispering back and forth urgently when the aisle cleared and several visitors filed in. The mayor actually went pale.

Tall and dark Simon Hart, the state attorney general, and his four brothers walked between the rows of chairs, along
with the county attorney, two senators, and what looked like a group of journalists, two with television cameras.

Simon shook hands with the city attorney, who whispered to him urgently.

The meeting was reluctantly called to order.

“This is highly irregular,” the mayor protested, standing. “This is a disciplinary hearing…!”

“This is a kangaroo court,” Cash replied, standing. “My officers, in the course of their sworn duty, arrested a politician for driving while under the influence of alcohol. They are being persecuted by you, Mayor, and by two of your councilmen. You are related to the politician in question. The fact that you didn't disqualify yourself from this hearing due to conflict of interest, makes it of public concern.”

“Exactly,” Simon Hart replied. “I am authorized by the governor to tell you that you are now the subjects of a special investigation by state authorities into your practices. And charges are pending against all of you involved in this subversion of justice.”

The reporters were snapping photographs. The news media were filming. The mayor looked as if he were trying to swallow a watermelon.

“I have protested this hearing since I learned of it,” the city attorney said curtly. “But I could not make the council hear me. Perhaps they will listen to you!”

Calhoun Ballenger stood up. “They will certainly listen to the citizens of Jacobsville,” he said, approaching the table where the city attorney was sitting. He drew out a thick manila envelope and handed it to the city clerk. “The special mayorial election is tomorrow, when Mayor Brady will face his opponent at the polls. But this is a recall petition for councilmen Barry and Culver. It has more than enough signatures.” His dark eyes narrowed on the faces of the embarrassed city fa
thers. “On the strength of it, I believe the city clerk will have the right to call a special election to replace these men.”

“Indeed I will,” the city clerk agreed coldly. “I have already spoken to the secretary of state.”

Simon Hart nodded. “Justice has been compromised in this city,” he said coldly. “No police officer should ever be penalized for doing his or her duty,” he added, looking straight at Lieutenant Carlos Garcia and Officer Dana Hall, who appeared both worried and proud.

“I couldn't agree more,” Cash replied.

Another man came forward, a fireman in full uniform. He stood in front of the mayor. “I'm Chief Rand of the Jacobsville Fire Department. I am authorized to speak for Jacobsville's twenty firefighters and twenty-five police officers, as well as the various municipal employees who work for the city. On their behalf I'm here to tell you that if these two officers are fired, or if Chief Grier is fired, every one of us will walk out on the spot and we won't come back.”

The council was speechless. The mayor couldn't find the right words, either. Never in the history of Jacobsville had there been such solidarity among public officials. The news media was eating it up. Cash looked shell-shocked. He turned and looked at Tippy and Rory, who both gave him the thumbs-up sign. He swallowed. Hard.

Simon Hart moved forward and looked the mayor right in the eye. “Your move.”

Ben Brady forced a smile. “Of course these officers, as well as Chief Grier, are welcome to continue their jobs in our town,” he said, almost choking on the words. “We had no intention of firing them for, as you say, doing their duty! In fact, we commend them for their attention to it!”

The officers seemed to relax. So did Cash Grier.

Simon wasn't through. “There is one other matter. A special
investigator from my office has been looking into reports of drug trafficking involving a local citizen, and two local politicians.” He looked straight at councilman Culver and the acting mayor. “Charges will be pending once the case has been turned over to your county's district attorney.”

“I look forward to prosecuting it,” the district attorney said with a cool smile.

The acting mayor was very pale. He could see his political career waning. The special election to elect a mayor was the following day, and he was facing beloved ex-mayor Eddie Cane for the position. After tonight he didn't imagine he had much hope of keeping his job. In a town the size of Jacobsville, everyone would know about the charges by midnight. “Very well,” he said weakly. “Will the secretary please read the minutes from the last meeting?”

It didn't take long. Within thirty minutes, the council had finished its usual business, and the meeting was dismissed. Everyone left.

Judd clapped Chief Grier on the back. “Congratulations.” He looked odd. “I never thought so many people would support us.”

“You underestimate your worth to the city,” Judd replied, and he smiled. “Feel like you belong here, now?”

Cash actually looked sheepish as Tippy came up on one side of him and Rory on the other. “Yeah,” he said huskily. “I feel like I belong,” he added, exchanging a possessive look with Tippy, who was beaming.

Judd shook hands with him and then tugged a smiling Crissy along with him out the door. Cash and Tippy paused to speak to Jordan Powell and Libby Collins be fore Rory tugged them out the door, pleading starvation.

 

T
HE FOLLOWING DAY
, the acting mayor, Ben Brady, resigned and left town immediately. In the special election for mayor the next day, Eddie Cane got ninety percent of the votes and won by a landslide without a runoff. In the state senate race, Calhoun Ballenger won the Democratic Primary by such a margin that Senator Merrill was actually embarrassed and refused to let him self be interviewed by the news media.

Julie Merrill, on the other hand, was out on bail now and vehemently outspoken about dirty tactics used against her father in the election, and she went on television to make accusations against Calhoun Ballenger.

Another scandal was being felt locally as well. Libby Collins's stepmother Janet was in jail for the poisoning murder of old Mr. Brady, the father of lawyer Blake Kemp's secretary, Violet. There were allegations that she'd poisoned other men, but there was nothing that would connect her with other deaths. Not even the exhumation of Libby and Curt Collins's late father had provided any new evidence against her. The trial promised to be interesting, like Julie Merrill's trial, when the date was set.

The same week of the elections, Blake Kemp had Julie Merrill served as the defendant in a defamation lawsuit filed by Calhoun Ballenger. It was a forewarning of things to come. She was already in hot water on an arson charge. Also, Cash had been slowly gathering evidence to link her to a drug syndicate. Her future looked grim. But just as Cash was about to make the arrest, Julie Merrill skipped town and vanished.

R
ORY WAS DELIGHTED
to be living with Cash and Tippy. He quickly made friends with a boy his own age, who lived three doors down from Cash, the son of one of Cash's police officers. The boys had a lot in common, especially video games. Cash outfitted Rory with the latest ones, which the boy shared with his new friend.

Tippy, meantime, was falling more deeply in love with Cash by the day. But since Rory's arrival, he'd been reticent. She wondered why. He told her that some thing was pending that she might not approve of, but he wouldn't tell her what it was.

She made popcorn and they watched a movie about mercenaries that Rory was crazy to see. Cash sat through it tight-lipped, and excused himself early, pleading fatigue.

“Did the movie upset him, do you think?” Rory asked his sister.

She hugged him gingerly. “I'm not sure,” she confessed. “Maybe. He never talks about the job, or his past. He keeps so many secrets.”

“One day he'll tell you,” he said confidently.

“Think so?” She smiled, but she had her doubts. He hadn't opened up to her, not really, since the day he'd blurted out the things his ex-wife had done. He was teasing, affectionate, kind. But he was as distant as the moon. Tonight was worrying. Something was really up setting him. Tippy wished he'd tell her what it was.

 

L
ATER THAT NIGHT
, in the wee hours, Tippy awoke to an unfamiliar sound. Cash was yelling. Tippy heard his deep voice echo down the hall. It was tormented, husky, groaning. It took a minute for her to get her bearings and make sure she was awake. She sat up in bed, listening. Perhaps she'd been dreaming. But, no—there it was again, that horrible, hoarse shouting.

She got up in her long blue silk gown and walked barefoot down the hall, her hair in a glorious tangle around her face still flushed with sleep. She pushed open the door to Cash's bedroom and walked up to the side of the bed. After a minute, she realized that she wasn't alone. Rory was standing on the other side of the bed, hesitating.

They exchanged worried glances. Before they could speak, Cash writhed on the covers. “I can't do it,” Cash was panting heavily. “I can't…shoot him! For God's sake, he's a little boy…! No! No, son, don't do it…don't make me…don't!”

“Sis, I don't know if we should wake him up,” Rory said when she bent instinctively over the thrashing man. “It might be dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” she parroted, hesitating.

“A lot of soldiers and policemen sleep with a pistol,” he pointed out.

She thought what a tragedy this could turn out to be, if she woke him and he thought she was an enemy soldier and shot her.

“No!” Cash groaned harshly, throwing off the covers. He was wearing black silk boxer shorts and nothing else. His hairy chest was damp with sweat, like his dark, faintly wavy hair. He was thrashing about feverously. “I killed him. Damn you, for making me take that shot, damn you all! Get me out of here…make them stop…God in Heaven, make…them…stop!”

Tippy sat down beside him on the bed and placed a soft hand flat in the center of his muscular chest. “Cash,” she whispered urgently. “Cash, wake up!”

“I…can't…do this…anymore.” He was panting.

“Cash!” She pushed down hard on his chest.

A split second later, she was on her back with a steely fore arm pinning her throat.

“Cash!” Rory yelled. “It's Tippy. It's Tippy!”

He came awake at once. His eyes, glazed and wild, suddenly focused on his hostage. He let her go and sat up. His breath caught in his throat as he realized what he could have done to her…

“You had…a nightmare,” she whispered, sounding choked. Her hands went to her red neck.

“I told her not to,” Rory defended her.

Cash caught his breath slowly. “Did I hurt you?” he asked Tippy in a strained tone.

“No. I was only frightened,” she said, sitting up, too. She rubbed her throat. “You were having a nightmare,” she added huskily.

He sighed heavily, looking from her to Rory. “This was stupid,” he told both of them flatly, and without apology. “Look at this.” He gestured toward the .45 automatic that
hung in its holster from his bedpost. “It's loaded. I've slept like this for most of my adult life. I could have shot you!”

“It isn't wise to sleep with a loaded gun when there are children in the house,” Tippy pointed out.

“I am not a child,” Rory said indignantly.

“He has a point,” Cash replied.

“So do I,” Tippy muttered.

Cash let out a long breath, flipped the clip out and expelled the single bullet in the chamber. He put the whole works in his bedside drawer. “There,” he muttered. “I'll get a case and a trigger lock for it tomorrow. And what a fine mess we'll be in if armed men come in through the windows one dark night!”

“Are you expecting any?” Tippy wanted to know.

“I'm always expecting them,” he said curtly. “I have enemies.”

“Listen, we have this terrific police force in Jacobsville,” she began.

“I'm not laughing, Tippy.” He ran his big hands through his damp hair and leaned forward with his el bows on his propped up knees. He was sick with fear. He was used to guns, to having them around. But tonight brought home exactly how dangerous it was to keep a loaded gun in the bedroom. It was a mistake he'd never make again.

“Do you want anything to drink?” Rory asked. “I feel like a Coke.”

“No. I don't want anything,” Cash said.

Tippy just shook her head.

“I'll be back in a few minutes,” Rory said, and went out of the room.

“He should be in bed,” Cash said heavily.

“He was in bed, until we heard you shouting at the top of your lungs,” Tippy replied. She moved farther onto the bed
and drew her legs up under her. “Talk to me, Grier,” she said gently. “Get it off your chest. You'll feel better.”

He leaned back against the pillows and glared at her in the faint light from the night-light in the wall plug.

“Come on,” she coaxed. “You know all my secrets.”

She had a point. But he hesitated. He'd never forgotten what his wife had done to him.

She reached out and touched his bare muscular arm hesitantly. His chest was thick with dark hair and very muscular. He was delightful to her eyes, although she tried not to let it show too much. “I don't sit in judgment on anybody. Not with my past. And I'm not going to meet you at the door with my suitcase, no matter what you tell me,” she added firmly.

“That's what I thought once before,” he bit off.

“I'm not here because you're rich,” she said bluntly. His jaw tautened. “If you're insinuating…”

“I'm stating a fact,” she interrupted. “No woman who loved you would do what she did. You don't walk out on people in pain, or turn away from them because of something they once did. True love is unconditional.”

“You'd know?” he drawled sarcastically.

Her eyes touched his hard, lean face with its faint scars and she smiled. “As a matter of fact, I would,” she said softly. Her soft hand splayed over the hair-roughened muscles of his chest.

He misunderstood the words. He thought she meant Cullen, the man she'd lived with. He averted his eyes and fought to keep his breath steady. The nightmare, the old familiar one, had unnerved him briefly. “You don't know what I have to live with.”

“You shot a boy.”

His eyes darted up to hers, incredulous. “How the hell would you know?”

“You were shouting it,” she said simply. “I watch the evening news along with the rest of the world. I'm to tally aware that in third world countries, paramilitary units have plenty of little boys who can use an AK-47 or even a K-bar if they have to.”

He scowled. She wasn't horrified. She wasn't even shocked.

“Cullen fought in Vietnam, Cash,” she said softly. “He told me all about it, things you'd never think he'd seen. He was so cultured, so worldly, but he watched children die, too. I know things about war that even Rory couldn't guess.”

He began to relax, just a little. “I fought in the Middle East. In South America. In the jungles of Africa. I did it to make big money. But I learned that there's a price you pay for that sort of quick profit. I'm still paying it.”

She reached down to touch his mouth gently with just her fingertips. “You have nightmares. So do I. In fact,” she added, as a pale face peered in around the door, “so does Rory. Right?” she asked her little brother.

He came into the room and closed the door. “Sam beat me up so bad that I almost died,” he agreed, tumbling into the bed on the other side of Cash. “I wake up screaming in the middle of the night sometimes. So does she,” he added, nodding toward his sister.

Cash let out the breath he'd been holding back. “So do I,” he confessed quietly.

“But you won't anymore tonight,” Rory said, climbing under the covers. “Goodnight, sis.”

It wasn't the time to force answers out of a reluctant Cash. She liked Rory's impish idea better. After all, he could kick them out of bed if he didn't like it, she mused.

Tippy lifted the sheet and bedspread and crawled in on the other side of Cash, moving to pillow her cheek on his bare
shoulder. She smiled and sighed softly, closing her eyes. She felt as if she'd come home. “Good night, Rory.”

“Good night, Cash,” Rory added drowsily.

“Good night, Cash,” Tippy seconded, and yawned. It was still very early in the morning. Wind was howling outside and it was starting to rain. She thought absently what a great blessing it was just to have a warm, dry, safe place to sleep at night. People took it too much for granted. In her youth, she'd spent many a lonely, frightened night on the streets before Cullen had found her.

Cash hesitated as he felt the soft warmth of two bodies beside him in the darkness. He felt safe. He felt warm. It was raining cats and dogs, and the wind sounded cold. He lay back with a confused sigh. He wanted to protest. He didn't need company or comfort. He was a tough guy. He could take care of himself and his own nightmares.

But after a minute, the soft, warm weight of Tippy's body on one side and Rory's on the other knocked the fight out of him. What the hell. He closed his eyes. And he slept.

 

C
ASH DIDN'T MENTION ANYTHING
about having two bed mates when he got up to go to work the next day. For several days, he kept to himself, taking time to show Rory how to make a worm bed and even taking him fishing. Tippy wasn't invited. But she didn't really mind. She liked seeing Rory so happy.

Early one morning while Rory was still asleep and Cash had gone out with a nod, Tippy smiled as she heard the slight noise outside the kitchen door. Mrs. Jewell was out shopping, but Cash must have forgotten something, she thought as she put the iron skillet on the stove to make herself some eggs.

She heard the screen door open, but no key was inserted in the lock. Instead, the doorknob was rattled, hard.

With her heart racing, and thoughts of the would-be
kidnappers coming after her, she almost panicked. She'd almost forgotten about being in danger in the routine of the past few weeks. But now, all her instincts were bristling. There was a hard kick at the door now, as if some one outside was trying to break in.

She grabbed up the phone, fumbling a little, and dialed 911 with shaking hands, all the time watching the wooden door.

“Chief Grier?” came the 911 operator's surprised voice on the line.

“It's Tippy Moore,” she replied. “Someone's trying to break in. Please send someone over as quickly as you can.”

“I'll dispatch a unit right now, Miss Moore. Please stay on the line…Miss Moore?”

Tippy had laid the phone down and grabbed up the large iron skillet in both hands, because the door was starting to part company from the jamb. She'd been a victim all her life, one way and another. First Sam Stan ton's victim, then every pushy male's, then the kidnappers who'd threatened her life. She was tired of being a victim.

She moved to the side of the door, so that it wouldn't hit her when the determined intruder broke in. Her heart was racing, and she was frightened, but she wasn't going to back down. Not now. This man was going to pay for the sins of every man who'd ever attacked her. She tightened her hand on the cold handle of the skillet. Its very weight was reassuring.

The noise was louder now, as the determined person outside began to throw his weight against the door. It was splintering. It was old and flimsy now, and some how fragile. Another two hard blows, and it was knocked back on its hinges. A tall, thin man in denim and a knit shirt burst into the kitchen with a gun in one hand.

At last, a target! Tippy swung the frying pan with all her might. The gun went flying and the man shrieked.

Ironically, his pain gave her strength. “Break into my house, will you?” she raged. She swung the iron skillet at his shoulder and he yelled again in pain. She lowered it and swung it at his kneecap. “Attack me with a gun, will you? I'll cripple you!”

He was screaming now, hopping on one leg, holding his hand and favoring his shoulder as he tried to back toward the shattered doorjamb.

Tippy kept coming. She was furious. This man had invaded her home, threatened her person. She didn't care if she went to jail for assault, he was going to pay for trying to kill her!

“You can tell Sam Stanton that he's dog meat!” she yelled at him, swinging the heavy pan again at his shoulder, the one she'd already hit once. He screamed again and tripped as he tried to back away from her. “I'm not going to hide in a closet while he sends pond scum like you to shut me up before his trial!”

“Help!” the intruder cried, stumbling to his knees as he scampered out the door.

Tippy had the frying pan lifted for another blow when sirens screamed down the small street and three police cars—one of them containing Cash—screeched to a halt at the driveway. Seconds later, uniformed officers with sidearms drawn and at the ready position stormed up to the house.