The Sheriff's Surrender. Marilyn Pappano

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      At the steps, she grabbed hold of the railing and planted her feet. “I’m not your prisoner!”

      “You’re in my custody. What do you think that means?”

      “I don’t want to stay here!”

      “Tough. Now I’d advise you to let go of the rail or risk taking a fistful of splinters with you.”

      At first she held on tighter, looking as if she’d like to sink her manicured nails into his hide, but after a moment she grudgingly released the rail and, making an effort at regaining some dignity, sedately climbed the steps. At the top, though, she dug in her heels again. “Let go of me.”

      “Once you’re locked up inside.”

      Her eyes were dark with impotent anger and her lip was showing the slightest tremble as they stared at each other. There was no doubt he would get his way—he was bigger, stronger, and way too accustomed to being obeyed. The only question was whether she would enter the house under her own power or over his shoulder like a sack of grain.

      There was no telling what the outcome would have been if they hadn’t been interrupted by the surge of a powerful engine accelerating down the driveway. As if she weighed less than nothing, he dragged her across the deck and over the threshold, then gave her a shove toward the guest room. “Get in the bedroom, close the door and stay quiet,” he ordered as he closed and locked the door.

      There was a time to be obstructive and a time to obey without argument. As Neely watched Reese remove his pistol from the holster tucked at the small of his back, she had no doubt about which time this was. She beat a quick retreat into the guest room, nearly tripping over her suitcase. After locking the door, she leaned against it and gave the room a quick scan. As guest rooms went, for a man who probably shared his bed with most of his overnight guests, the room lacked nothing. As a safe place to hide from unexpected visitors, it lacked everything. There was no way she could fit in the few-inch clearance between the floor and the bed, no cover in the empty closet and, thanks to the shelves and drawers and her own long legs, no space large enough inside the oak armoire.

      She was worrying for nothing, she counseled herself. The visitor was probably the mailman or a delivery man, bringing a package to leave on the porch. It might even be Jace, come to rescue her.

      But what if it was cause for worry? What if somehow, some way, Eddie Forbes had tracked her down and he’d come to finish what he’d started? He was too big a coward to come alone, so his thugs would be with him. Would Reese be able to protect her?

      Would he even try?

      Without warning, the doorknob rattled. Neely clamped her hands over her mouth to muffle the startled gasp that slipped out and whirled away from the door, as if those few feet somehow offered more protection.

      “Open the door, Neely.”

      Even if she hadn’t recognized Reese’s voice, she would have known that scornful impatience anywhere. After taking a few deep breaths to ease her tremors, she twisted the lock, then hastily moved to the opposite side of the bed.

      He opened the door but didn’t come farther than a step into the room. “That was one of my deputies. When the alarm’s set off, it automatically dials into the dispatcher. Since I didn’t answer the phone when the dispatcher called to clear it and Darren was in the area, he came by to check it out.” His gaze shifted from her to the neatly made bed, then to her suitcase. For some reason she couldn’t begin to guess at, he scowled. “I told him I forgot about the alarm. Thanks for making me look like an idiot.”

      He never looked like an idiot, even when he was being one, so she didn’t feel too sorry for him. Back in Thomasville, they’d had some of the most ridiculous arguments, with him on the side of unreasonable, illogical, narrow-minded fools everywhere, but he’d managed to never look unreasonable, illogical or narrow-minded himself.

      Though he’d eventually proven that he was all three.

      Clasping her hands together tightly so they wouldn’t tremble, she tried to look braver and calmer than she felt. “I’d really like to go to the jail now.” Before he could turn her down flat again, she rushed on. “There’s no safe place to hide here. If Forbes finds out I’m here, it’s all over. I have no place to go.”

      He looked at her for a long still moment, then made a decision he apparently didn’t like, followed by an impatient gesture. “Come on. I’ll show you the safe room.”

      Chapter 3

      Neely had heard of safe rooms—who in Tornado Alley hadn’t?—but she’d never actually seen one. In her own house, the hall bathroom was her best bet in the event of disaster—an interior room, no windows, only one door—but a best bet was far from an honest-to-God, built-for-that-purpose safe room.

      She followed Reese through the kitchen and down the other side hallway into his bedroom. The room was large, comfortable, messier than any other room in the house, but that was all she had the chance to notice before he opened a door in the corner. From the bedroom side, anyone would think it was a closet, which some safe rooms were. But not this one. It was small—six-by-eight, maybe eight-by-eight feet. The walls were painted white, the floor carpeted in beige. Much of the space was taken up by a twin bed. There was an electric light overhead, two wall sconces that held candles and a shelf filled with flashlights, a radio, batteries, matches and bottled water.

      “Come over here and close the door,” Reese commanded gruffly, and she returned from her examination of the room to do so. What had looked like a regular door from the other side was actually steel, she realized, and quite heavy. Fortunately, it didn’t require significant effort to move it—at least, not until it was closed and secured. There was what appeared to be a heavy-duty dead bolt lock, along with a steel bar that fitted through brackets on the inside of the door.

      “The structure isn’t attached to the house, so the house can blow away without affecting this room at all. The walls and ceiling are reinforced concrete, more than a foot thick. This design has been proven to withstand winds up to three hundred miles per hour. It’s also bulletproof.”

      A shiver danced down her spine, one she thought she controlled, but he noticed and frowned. “You’re not claustrophobic, are you?”

      “Oh, no. I’m learning to love small, enclosed, safe places.”

      They stood there a moment, the silence around them thick and unnatural. When he broke it, Neely wasn’t prepared for the sound of his voice…or had she been anticipating it?

      “Who is Forbes?”

      A chill swept over her, and she rubbed her bare arms vigorously to generate some heat. After a halfhearted effort, she unfastened the two locks, pushed open the door and returned to the brighter, warmer environment of the bedroom. She thought about brushing him off, about flat-out lying that she didn’t know anyone by that name or not answering at all. But as long as she was around, whether in his house or his jail, her problems were his problems.

      Threats against her now included him.

      A large bay window with a seat looked out onto the front porch and the yard. She sat there, folded her arms across her middle and replied, “Eddie Forbes is a convicted felon whose business interests range from trafficking in narcotics to money-laundering to murder-for-hire.”

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