Blind Tiger by Sandra Brown

“Hold on. The mayor and Landry came here?”

“To try to coerce me into joining their…I don’t know the word. Syndicate? Did you know the mayor is a bootlegger? Anyway, they showed up at my front door this afternoon.”

In a thready voice, she pieced together broken sentences to relate what the pair had proposed. Thatcher wasn’t surprised by any of it except for Bernie Croft’s brashness. “Who did the talking?” he asked.

“The mayor.”

Up till now Croft had used his political office as cover. If he was stepping out from behind it, he must be feeling damned confident that he couldn’t be touched. That was a troubling prospect.

“When they left,” Laurel was saying, “I had the shakes. I knew I hadn’t seen the last of them. But I didn’t think their reprisal would come this soon or be so…deadly.”

Tears filled her eyes. “When I told the twins about that visit and the reason behind it, they admitted that a truck had been hijacked just a few days ago.” She described the incident to Thatcher.

“I suppose the only reason they let that Johnson man live was so he could put his family and the rest of us on notice. Nevertheless, the twins were keen on going tonight.”

“But without whiskey.”

She nodded. “They weren’t selling just my whiskey. They had been dealing with another moonshiner, who’s up closer to Ranger. They’d bought several crates from him and had hidden them someplace accessible, so the product would be on hand when they needed it.

“In view of this recent hijacking, they had counted on selling what was in that stockpile, but would continue to make the trip from here to there with pies only. In the event they were intercepted, the joke would be on whoever had stopped them.

“Their thinking was that after they were caught with only pies as cargo, they would be left alone. You see? Isn’t that just like a prank the two of them would pull?”

She gave a dry, forced laugh, and she began to quiver like a shell-shocked trooper on the verge of cracking.

He spoke her name quietly, and when she’d blinked him into focus, he asked about Landry. “Tell me what happened with him.”

“He must have been watching the house, because he came to the back door almost immediately after the twins left. He said Mayor Croft had been overbearing and tactless, and that he didn’t blame me for turning them down. He said he had come, not at Croft’s behest, but on his own, to make me a better offer. I don’t know what he was going to propose, because that’s when the shooting started. The instant I heard the gunfire, I had a premonition, a sick feeling.”

She touched her stomach. “I took off running. Landry came after me, and caught up. From there, you know. You saw.”

“The coward ran and got away.”

“Mike was lying in the street, and Davy was dead. They made such easy targets as they came out of the curve in the road.” She appeared to want to say more, but her throat seized up. She had difficulty swallowing.

“Laurel, it wasn’t lawmen who ambushed them.”

She looked down at the floor, but he didn’t think it registered with her that the puddle around her muddy shoes had been formed by her dripping clothes.

“Sheriff Amos called it sabotage,” she said. “Moonshiners mistaking the twins for rivals. And they were. They were. For me.” She pressed her fist to her chest. “I let them go tonight, knowing the danger.”

She covered her face with her hands and began to sob. “Irv kept telling me it wasn’t a lark. You warned me. But, no, I was conceited and stubborn, and thought that I was above the fray, that I couldn’t be touched. And because of that vanity, Davy died.”

Sensing that she was about to collapse where she stood, Thatcher crossed over to her and enfolded her in his arms. “The O’Connors knew they were playing a dangerous game. They knew the risks.”

“But it’s my fault.”

“No, Laurel. They loved the thrill. With or without you, they would have become part of this trade.”

“I tried my best to talk them out of going tonight. Honestly, Thatcher, I did. But they were bent on it. If Mike lives, he will never get over losing his brother. Never.” Her forehead dropped against his sternum and she began to sob harder. “I can’t do this anymore. Even if I wanted to continue. I can’t. I can’t risk another life.”

“You’ve got to stop risking your own.” He scooped her up into his arms and headed for the staircase.

Feebly, she pushed against his chest. “Let me down.”

“You’re sopping wet. Your teeth are chattering, and you’re about to drop.”

He carried her into her bedroom, set her on her feet, and propped her against the wall. He went around the room pulling down the window shades and lit the lamp on her dresser, keeping the flame low. He folded back the bedcovers.

She hadn’t moved from where he’d left her. For the longest time, they stood facing, staring into each other’s eyes.

“You’re fragile right now,” he said. “I promised I would never take advantage of you, and I meant it. I’m putting you to bed. If you don’t want me in there with you, say so now.”

She didn’t move or speak.

Keeping his eyes locked with hers, he reached down and untied the thong holding his holster against his thigh, then unbuckled the gun belt and set it in a chair. His coat was wet. It clung, but he worked himself out of it. He flipped his braces off his shoulders, opened several buttons of his shirt, then impatiently pulled it over his head. Shoes and socks went next. He unbuttoned his fly but stopped there.