Authors: Marie Ferrarella
every policeman's wife dreaded going through. Coming face-to-face with the mortality of
someone she loved dearly. The knowledge that, this time, it wasn't true, created a rush
beyond belief.
She shook her head. "No, I'm fine. It's just that he told me you were shot. That you were
in the hospital, asking for me." Tears rose in her eyes no matter how hard she struggled to
keep them back. "I thought you were dying."
Brady saw the tears and knew they weren't out of fear for herself. Knew that the tears
were there because of him. He took her back into his arms, letting the relief come. Telling
himself it was all right. She was safe and that was all that mattered.
"I'm here, Patience," he said softly into her hair, holding her against him, the circle of his arms creating a barrier that, for just a moment, kept the rest of the world from reaching
her. "I'm right here."
She clung to him tightly, unable to make the fear go away. She could have lost him. Josh's
scenario could have come true. The pain was just as awful as she'd imagined. The joy in
realizing it wasn't true was beyond description. At that moment, she knew where her heart
was and where it would always be.
With Brady.
Within minutes the house was filled with patrolmen and detectives. Voices and noise filled
the air. Patience held it at bay as long as she could, clinging to Brady. Getting her bearings.
She heard someone asking Brady for his gun. She knew it was because there were strict
procedures to adhere to since it had been fired.
Back to business as usual.
Except that nothing would ever be "usual" again.
Suddenly her brother Patrick came bursting through the sea of people around her,
pushing a paramedic out of the way. His face was a road map of concern.
"I heard the call through dispatch. Are you all right?" he cried. Since the patrolman was the closest to her, Patrick looked to Brady for confirmation before Patience ever got a
chance to nod her head.
Because he was so shaken, Patience began to grow calm, centering herself. She placed a
hand on her older brother's shoulder.
"I'm fine. Really. Brady saved me." She couldn't make herself look at the body on the
floor. "It was Josh all along. Josh was the stalker."
Brady saw relief wash over the other man's face like a tidal wave brushing against the
shore. "Anything you want, man…" Patrick said to his sister's rescuer. His voice trailed off, too filled with emotion to continue.
The words were understood.
There was only one thing Brady wanted. One thing he knew he had no right to. The one
thing that would make his world complete. But rather than say anything, Brady merely
nodded, letting Patrick know that he understood what was being left unsaid. They were
both men of few words; there was no need to spell things out.
"There's a photo album in my car you might want to enter into evidence," he told Patrick.
"Photo album?" Patrick echoed, looking from Patience to Brady.
Her mouth felt dry, as if she'd been forced to eat sand and all the granules had found
their way down her throat, rubbing it raw. She took a deep breath, telling herself that it
was over.
Now all she had to do was get over it, as well.
"It's an album of photographs of Josh and me." Both men looked at her curiously. "He had a copy here," she told Brady. Her eyes shifted toward her brother. "Josh used upgraded
software to put us together in locations I've never been to." Unable to help herself, she
shivered. "He even made up composite photographs of what our kids would look like." She
swallowed and tried to find strength. "All this time and I never realized what was going
on." She looked at her brother. "He didn't seem like the obsessive type."
"Those are the worst ones," Patrick told her.
Brady looked at Patience. He didn't know if she knew, if she'd figured it out yet. "He had
the clinic and house bugged."
She pressed her lips together. "I know." She saw the quizzical look on Patrick's face.
"He…" She searched for the right word. "Knew things," she finally said. "About me. About Brady and me," she added. If her brother was surprised, he gave no indication. "Things he couldn't have known unless he'd installed some kind of surveillance equipment there." The
look on her brother's face told her that if Josh wasn't already dead, he would have killed
the man with his own bare hands. Patience found herself comforting him. "It's over,
Patrick."
Squaring her shoulders, she threaded her fingers through Brady's. The latter looked
surprised, then smiled at her.
"Yeah." Patrick spat the word out. Then, because he was a policeman, born and bred, he
caught hold of himself. When he asked her, "Are you up to coming down to the station and
giving us a statement?" his voice was milder, more in control.
Patience nodded. She wanted to tell the story while the details were still fresh in her
mind. She wanted to make sure that no blame whatsoever could fall on Brady. And then she
wanted very much to forget any of this ever happened.
Her fingers tightened around Brady's hand as she followed her brother out of the house.
Because she was one of their own, the detectives conducting the interview at the precinct
tried to make it as painless as possible for her. Even so, it was difficult for Patience to go
over the events. Difficult to believe that it was finally behind her. The bruises on her arm
where Josh had held her were only now beginning to form, but eventually they would fade.
She had no idea how long it would take for the impression he'd left on her soul to fade.
As she told the particulars of her experience, she watched members of her family enter
the squad room. It seemed to her that every Cavanaugh had shown up at the precinct the
moment they'd received word about what had happened.
Even Janelle came, to assure both her and Brady that as far as the D.A.'s office was
concerned, this was a justifiable shooting and that the case was open and shut. There
would be no repercussions and a commendation would be placed in Brady's file for acting
cool under fire.
"Cool under fire," he mocked, shaking his head when things had finally died down at the
precinct and he was allowed to take her home. "If they only knew."
These were his first words since before she'd given her statement to Detective Warner.
Brady had seemed to all but withdraw into himself; something that had left her feeling
uneasy because she had no way of being able to read that. No way of knowing what it
meant.
Relieved to have him finally talking to her, she shifted in the patrol car and glanced at
him. "If only they knew what?"
He spared her a look as he took the corner. His heart felt as if it were permanently
lodged in his throat. "That I was shaking inside," he told her, his voice low and betraying nothing. "That the second I realized what was going on, I was scared to death."
"Scared? You?" The word seemed incongruous with who and what Brady was. She'd
doubted that he had any idea what the word fear meant.
"Scared," he repeated. "Me." So badly that his hands had felt like chunks of ice, unable to move swiftly enough to save her.
"You were afraid that he was going to kill you?"
"Hell, I didn't care about that, I was afraid he was going to kill you." And that would have been intolerable to him. He realized that now more than ever. Pulling up in front of her
clinic, he yanked up the hand brake and turned to look at her. Almost hesitantly, he
touched her hair. "I couldn't live in a world without you."
She thought of the way it had ended between them this morning. And that she'd been
afraid that it was permanently over. "I got the impression that you could. Easily."
"Why? Because I walked away?"
Her mouth curved just a little. He'd saved her and no matter what happened, he was
always going to be her hero. "That might have had something to do with it."
Didn't she understand why he'd done that? Why he wished he could still stand by his
actions? But he couldn't because he knew he couldn't live his life without her. "That was
because I didn't want to mess up your life."
Her eyes held his. Her smile deepened, delving into his soul. "Too late."
"Yeah, I know." He sighed, shaking his head. There was no denying what he felt, so he
might as well own up to it. And throw himself on her mercy. "At least for me. No matter
where I go, you'll always be inside of me."
She made no attempt to hide the spark of pleasure that had taken hold. Patience ran her
hand along his chest, as if to take stock of it.
"Small space." She raised her eyes to his. "I'd rather be next to you instead of inside of you."
Brady got out of the car and rounded the hood until he was at the passenger door.
Opening it for her, he took her hand and brought her to him. He was in so deep, he
couldn't even begin to tread water.
"You know, I still don't have a clue how to make a relationship work."
Not waiting for an invitation, she fit herself against him, her body neatly filling the
hollows of his. "Well, saving me from getting killed by a stalker buys you a lot of grace."
He liked holding her like this. Liked feeling her warmth spreading out along his skin. "Does
it?"
To him, her eyes looked as if they were dancing. "You bet."
He'd never said the words to anyone before, never felt the least bit inclined to even
entertain the possibility that he might feel this way about anyone. But he did. Now. About
her. "I love you, you know."
Brady had all but whispered the words to her. She had to strain to hear them, and
struggled now to convince herself that she wasn't dreaming. That she hadn't just wished
them into existence.
"No," she told him quietly, her eyes raised to his, "I didn't."
Her statement left him stunned. "How could you not know?"
Typical man, she thought, her heart swelling as love filled every tiny crack, every space.
"Maybe because you didn't say anything. A girl likes to hear those kinds of things."
He closed his arms around her, holding her tightly. Loving her even more so. "What else
does a girl like to hear?"
She surprised him by shaking her head. "Oh, no, I can't put words into your mouth. You're
on your own here, Coltrane."
Pausing to think, he blew out a breath. "That's what I'm afraid of."
Her body heated even more as she threaded her fingers through his. "You don't ever have
to be afraid, Brady. Not of me."
He wasn't afraid of her, he was afraid, at bottom, of rejection. It was better not to know
than to suffer ultimate rejection, but he knew that he'd passed that point of no return.
He needed her in his life. Permanently. The right way.
So he took his courage in his hand, something that had always been a given before,
something he never explored until this very moment, and asked, "If I asked you to marry
me…?"
"Why don't you try it and see what happens?"
There was encouragement in her voice. Or was he misreading it? "Patience Cavanaugh, will
you marry me?"
Unable to hold it back any longer, she grinned even as she tried to hedge a second longer.
"CanTacomabe the ring bearer?"
Relief swirled through his chest. He'd jumped over the highest hurdle in his life—and
cleared it. "King might get jealous."
"We could have both."
He pressed a kiss to her neck and heard her sigh. The beat of the heart that was lodged
in his throat accelerated. "Is that a yes?"
She took his face between her hands and just looked at him. Loving him so much, it hurt.
"That is most definitely a yes. I love you, Braden Coltrane. I have for a while now." She saw the furrow in his brow and smoothed it out with her fingers. "What?"
He had his doubts. Doubts that she wouldn't regret this. There were so many pitfalls, so
many mistakes that could be made. But the greatest of mistakes would be if he'd let her
go.
"You know, I don't know the first thing about making a marriage work, either, but I'll do
whatever it takes to make you happy." It was a pledge, a promise he meant to keep.
Damn, but she'd really struck the jackpot this time. "Just be, Brady," she whispered.
"Just be."
"I can do that," he told her just before he lowered his head and kissed her.
* * * * *