Chapter 19
“Well, now
that you’re both here, I suppose we should move our little party
into the living room.” Fowler Jordan pointed the .44 Magnum toward
the parlor.
“What’s going on?” All semblance of
happiness vanished from Charles’s face, replaced by shock. “Why are
you pointing that gun at us?”
“Well, let’s just say that there’s been
a change in plans.” Fowler grabbed Emily’s arm, then waved his gun
at Charles. “Get moving. Into the living room. Now!”
Emily thought that her uncle seemed to
be more in control of himself at this precise moment than he’d been
when he’d telephoned her—indeed, more in control of himself than
she’d ever seen him. There was a sedate, unemotional aura about
him.
Emily shivered. “Charles didn’t confess
to killing Rod Simmons, did he?” Bit by tiny bit, the fragments of
a truth she didn’t want to face began coming together to form one
plausible explanation for her uncle’s actions.
“What’s she talking about?” Moving
forward, Charles squared his shoulders and glared at Fowler. “Of
course I didn’t confess to killing Rod Simmons. I didn’t murder
that boy. Mitch Hayden did.”
“No, of course you didn’t kill Rod,”
Emily said. “And neither did Mitch. But I think I know who did.”
The realization sent warning chills through Emily’s body, creating
a cold, deadly fear deep within her.
“If Hayden didn’t kill Rod Simmons, who
did? And what does that have to do with why Fowler has that
gun?”
“Do you want to tell Charles or shall
I?” Numbness claimed Emily as she stared at Stuart’s uncle. The man
who had sat at her bedside and comforted her after Stuart’s death.
The man who had loved her, supported her, encouraged her. The man
who had willed her to live when she’d wanted to die.
Fowler Jordan laughed, the hearty
chuckles rumbling from his chest and bursting into the atmosphere
like frightening thunder. Charles’s eyes rounded into big, brown
circles of shock.
“Are you saying that Fowler killed Rod
Simmons?” Charles’s voice quivered.
Emily clutched the loose material on
each side of her slacks, just below her hips. Dear Lord, was this
really happening? Was it actually possible that her beloved Uncle
Fowler was a murderer? “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m
saying.”
“No, I don’t believe it.” Charles
looked at Fowler. “Tell her that she’s mistaken. You
wouldn’t—”
“Ah, but I would,” Fowler admitted.
“I’d do anything to prevent Emily from wasting her life on a man
like Hayden.”
“I don’t understand,” Charles
said.
“It’s quite simple, really.” Fowler
glanced from Emily to Charles. “I thought that if I killed Rod
Simmons, I could eliminate two birds with one stone, so to
speak.”
Charles stared, bleary-eyed, at his
mentor. “You really did kill that boy.”
“My plan was for Mitch Hayden to be
arrested. Which he was,” Fowler said. “And I believed that once
Emily realized Hayden truly was a murderer, she would come to her
senses and cut all ties to the man. I thought she would return to
us, Charles, and we could continue with our plans. I felt that, in
time, she’d realize my choices for her were the right
choices.”
“But I didn’t cut all ties to Mitch,
did I?” Emily stared at Fowler, the man who had cared for her with
such love and compassion after the fire, and wondered what had
happened to him. How could he have changed so drastically from a
kind, gentle man to a monster, capable of murdering an innocent man
as a part of his misguided schemes?
“No, foolish girl that you are,
thinking with your body’s lust, you clung to your worthless lover.”
While holding the Magnum steady in one hand, he delved inside his
coat pocket with the other and removed a handkerchief, then wiped
the perspiration from his face. “I thought hiring those young thugs
to break into your house twice and warn you against seeing another
man—any other man than the one I’d chosen for you—would be enough.
But no, you wouldn’t heed the warnings.”
“You set Mitch up for Rod’s murder,”
Emily said, her voice deceptively calm. Her insides were a
trembling mess. “You planned it all out, didn’t you? You murdered
that sweet, innocent boy because of me.”
Fowler grinned. Nausea hit Emily
squarely in the stomach, like a giant acidic tidal wave eating
holes in a placid shore. She covered her mouth with her hand,
muting her gasp of realization. This man wasn’t the uncle who loved
her. This man was a monster—a monster
capable of destroying anyone and anything. That included
Charles—and even her! A scream caught in her throat, trapped there
by pure fear.
“You called and left a message for
Mitch and you called me and disguised your voice when you told me
that Mitch had gone to Rod’s apartment. You wanted me to be there
when Mitch was arrested. And you called the police, too, didn’t
you?”
“Guilty on all charges.” Fowler’s grin
widened. His eyes actually twinkled with some inner pleasure. “It
was so easy. Rod was such a pathetic weakling. And Mitchell Hayden.
Ah, that stupid muscle-bound idiot played right into my hands.
Hell, he even brought his own gun. I didn’t even have to use my
own. All I had to do was hog-tie and gag Rod and wait in the closet
until Hayden showed up. You see my dear, everything would have
worked out perfectly if you had just cooperated. But no, once
again, you had to ruin all my carefully executed
plans.”
“Fowler, you’re a sick man,” Charles
said. “Please, let Emily and me help you. We can call the police
and then—”
“I’m afraid that calling the police
right now isn’t part of my new plan.” Fowler chuckled. “Of course,
after you’ve taken Emily hostage and I’ve shot you, and accidently
shot Emily, too, in trying to save her from you, then I’ll have to
call the police and tell them what happened.”
Emily could not believe that any of
this was actually happening. But it was. And if she didn’t think of
some way to save herself and Charles, they’d soon be dead! Uncle
Fowler had lost his mind.
“But you wouldn’t harm Emily,” Charles
rationalized. “You love her. You’ve devoted the past five years of
your life to her.”
“You’re quite right. I did devote my
life to Emily. I loved her like the daughter I never had. All I
wanted in return for all I’d given her was for her to marry you,
for the two of you to live in this house with me and raise your
children here. But she turned from you to another man. A man
totally unsuitable for her. A man completely
unworthy.”
“I won’t let you kill Emily.” Charles
spoke through clenched teeth, his face contorted with
fear.
“I’m afraid I must kill Emily. It’s the
only way I can save her from herself. And regrettably, in order to
make my plan work, I’ll have to kill you, too. The police must be
convinced that you killed Rod Simmons. I will tell them that you
took Emily hostage, that you threatened her life and that I tried
to stop you, killing you in the process. And unfortunately, I
accidently shot Emily when I tried to rescue her from
you.”
Emily could not believe the
cold-blooded plot her uncle had devised. Had she ever really known
this man, or had his kind and loving demeanor been only a
facade?
Charles moved toward Fowler. Emily
tried to cry out to warn him not to confront Fowler, but her voice
froze in her throat.
“You’re not going to kill Emily.”
Charles advanced on Fowler, seemingly oblivious to the weapon in
Fowler’s hand.
Fowler fired his gun. Charles gasped.
He stared at Fowler in disbelief, then slumped to the
floor.
Emily screamed. Blood oozed from
Charles’s stomach. Emily turned her head, gasping for
breath.
He had done it. He had actually shot
Charles. And she was going to be next
“Please...don’t hurt Emily,” Charles
pleaded as the life drained slowly from his body.
Mitch, Nikki and Zed boarded the rented
helicopter in Bay Minette less than ten minutes after the Mobile
police had been notified about the possible danger to Emily Jordan.
The police chief, a personal friend of Zed’s, had promised not to
waste any time sending two patrol cars out to the Jordan residence
on Solomon Drive, and had promised to have a SWAT team on standby.
Zed assured Mitch that everything possible was being done, but he
could only imagine the torture his old friend was going through,
not knowing if he’d ever see the woman he loved alive
again.
In that split second after Fowler shot
Charles, he focused all his attention on him. Bending down on one
knee, he stared at him, then ran the tips of his fingers over his
face. Charles groaned, dying but not yet dead.
Emily realized that Fowler wasn’t
paying any attention to her. Slowly, cautiously, she took one step
backward, then another and another, keeping an eye on her uncle all
the while. She continued moving backward, toward the French doors
leading to the enclosed courtyard at the side of the
house.
“I’m so sorry, my dear boy,” Fowler
told the dying Charles. “I regret that things had to end this way.
It’s all Emily’s fault, of course. If she’d done as I expected her
to, then none of this would have been necessary.”
Emily slipped back against the French
doors, reached behind her and grasped the crystal
knob.
“I treated her like a queen.” Fowler
stood, shook his head sadly and sighed. “Poor girl. Poor misguided
girl. I can’t allow her to go on living. Not now. Now that she’s in
love with Stuart’s murderer. Now that she’s given herself to
him.”
Emily turned the doorknob, eased the
door open a fraction and then opened it just a little bit
more.
The doorbell rang. Fowler jumped. Emily
froze to the spot.
“Who the hell?” Fowler asked
himself.
The doorbell rang again.
Emily flung the French doors open and
ran outside. Fowler raced after her, ignoring the ringing
doorbell.
Emily hid behind a five-foot hedge that
hugged the far back side wall of the enclosed courtyard. Her
heartbeat hammered in her ears, obliterating every other
sound.
“Come out, Emily dear, wherever you
are.” Fowler Jordan circled the courtyard. “There’s nowhere to run,
no way out.”
Emily swallowed hard. He was wrong.
There was a way out. Through the intricately carved cast-iron gate
that opened up onto the driveway. But she would have to expose
herself, put herself in the line of fire, to reach the
gate.
She watched from her hiding place as
Fowler scoured the courtyard, looking behind every bush, circling
the two trees, overturning the patio furniture. Then he halted his
rampage and stared directly at the hedge. He smiled.
“I know where you’re hiding. Come on
out. Now!”
Emily reached down, picked up a handful
of pebbles and threw them at the opposite end of the hedgerow. She
waited until Fowler began his search of the hedge at the far end, a
good twenty feet away from her.
She crept along the hedgerow, then
darted out and dashed to the gate. The moment she grabbed the
latch, a shot rang out over her head, zinging off the cast
iron.
Emily screamed, but she didn’t look
back. He was going to kill her, no matter what. She would rather
die trying to escape than to wait for him to shoot
her.
She unlatched the gate and swung open
the door. Fowler fired again. Crying out in pain, she grabbed her
shoulder where the bullet had entered and ran out of the courtyard
and onto the driveway.
When Mitch, Nikki and Zed arrived at
the Jordan house on Solomon Street, they found the Mobile police in
charge of an explosive situation. A uniformed officer stopped
them.
“What’s going on here?” Zed
inquired.
“Sir, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you
and the others to leave the vicinity.”
Paying no heed to the officer, Mitch
rushed past him and headed across the street. If Emily was here,
inside that house and in trouble, he had to go to her. Had to save
her. Another policeman grabbed Mitch. Mitch reared back, drawing
his hand into a fist.
“Don’t, Mitch,” Zed yelled. “I’ll find
out what’s going on.”
Lowering his fist to his side, Mitch
glared at the officer, who held on to Mitch.
A dark sedan pulled up and parked
directly behind the two police cars. A tall sandy-haired man in his
late forties emerged, threw up his hand in greeting and walked
toward Zed.
“Stay cool, Mitch,” Zed warned. “Arnold
Madden’s here now and I’ll find out what’s going on.” Zed turned to
greet the new arrival. “Arnold, that’s Mitch Hayden over there.”
Zed nodded toward Mitch and the officer just barely restraining
him. “He’s half out of his mind worrying about Emily Jordan. What
the hell’s going on here?”
. “Release Mr. Hayden,” Chief of Police
Arnold Madden ordered the officer, who obeyed instantly, but stared
at his commanding officer as if he questioned the man’s
sanity.
“Come here, Mr. Hayden, and I’ll brief
you and Zed on what’s happened,” Madden said.
Nikki rushed over to Zed. He slipped
his arm around her waist. Mitch ran back across the street and
stepped up on the sidewalk to stand on the other side of
Zed.
“We don’t know the whole story yet,”
Madden told them. “When our men arrived, we couldn’t get anyone to
answer the door, but we heard a gunshot.”
Mitch cursed loudly. “If anything has
happened to Emily, I’ll—”
“When my men got inside, they
discovered the body of a man in his early thirties. We found some
ID in his wallet. His name was Charles Tolbert.”
“Where is Emily and her uncle?” Zed
asked.
“I’m afraid Mr. Jordan is outside in
the courtyard, and he’s holding his niece hostage.”
Mitch’s heart thundered in his chest.
He trembled, knowing the truth. Bile rose from his stomach, coating
his throat. He clenched his jaw tightly. Emily. Dear God in heaven!
Emily was in the hands of a madman. A man she had loved and
trusted.
Zed gripped Mitch’s shoulder, but
looked directly at the police chief. “What’s been done to free Ms.
Jordan?”
“The SWAT team is getting in place,”
Madden said. “And Fowler Jordan is talking to our officer inside
the house.”
Nikki gasped. Tears trickled down her
cheeks. “Please, please don’t let anything happen to
Emily.”
“We’re going to do our best,” Madden
told her. “At this point, we have to assume that Ms. Jordan could
be injured.”
“I’m going in there,” Mitch
said.
Zed tightened his hold on Mitch’s
shoulder, then grabbed his arm and jerked him around so that they
faced each other. “Let the police do their job. Once the SWAT team
gets set, they can put a sharpshooter in place and he can take
Jordan out.”
“And what if Emily is hurt? What if he
shot her?” Mitch asked. “What if the SWAT team can’t zero in on
Jordan? This house is on a corner lot and that walled courtyard
faces the side street. Where are they going to get so they can take
a shot at him? Huh?”
“They’ll figure out something.” Zed
pulled Mitch several feet away and placed his hands on his
shoulders. “If you try to storm the house, Chief Madden will have
his men stop you.”
“If Jordan was holding the woman you
loved, what would you do, Zed? Would you wait around out here,
hoping the SWAT team would get him before she bled to death? Would
you wait to see if they could save her?”
Zed closed his eyes and clenched his
jaw. Releasing his hold on Mitch, he spit out a crude expletive.
Opening his eyes, he stared at Mitch. “You don’t even have a
weapon.”
“If I can take Jordan unawares, I won’t
need any other weapon than my own two hands.”
“How the hell do you think you’re going
to be able to sneak up on Jordan—that is, if you can get past the
police?”
“Jordan will be placing most of his
attention on the back entrance from the house and on that gate
leading to the driveway,” Mitch said. “He won’t be paying too much
attention to the wall itself.”
“You’re going to scale the
wall?”
“Jordan has got to know that the police
called in their SWAT team. So that means he’s going to keep Emily
in front of him and he’s going to keep his back covered. He’s
telling himself that he can negotiate his way out of
there.”
“You could be committing suicide as
well as endangering Emily’s life by trying to rescue
her.”
“If I fail, you make sure they save
Emily.” Mitch clasped Zed’s hand. “And make sure Fowler Jordan pays
for what he’s done.”
“Think twice about what you’re doing,”
Zed cautioned. “Hell, you’re going to do it regardless of what I
say. So, what can I do to help you?”
“Tell the chief that you’ve calmed me
down and persuaded me to take a walk to cool off while we wait for
the SWAT team.”
“Okay. What else?”
“Make sure the chief keeps that officer
in the house negotiating with Jordan. That might distract him long
enough for me to get to Emily.”
“God help you,” Zed said.
“God help Fowler Jordan when I get my
hands on him.”
Mitch said a thankful prayer that
Jordan’s garage was unlocked. He lifted the door and scanned the
dim interior, quickly spotting a fiberglass extension ladder
hanging along the back wall. Emily’s LeSabre was parked inside the
garage.
Standing on an old trunk, Mitch eased
the ladder off the hooks and stepped down onto the concrete floor.
He spotted a length of wound rope hanging from a nail. He grabbed
the rope. Dust particles swirled off the rope and into the air. The
damn thing looked a hundred years old. No telling how long it had
been in the detached garage. He slipped his arm through the loop
and tossed the rope over his shoulder.
His best chance lay in a surprise
attack. And he could accomplish that goal only if Zed had persuaded
the chief to keep the officer inside talking to Fowler Jordan.
Mitch had to have that distraction—that split second when Jordan
would be vulnerable.
He laid the ladder against the
eight-foot courtyard wall, inadvertently making a scraping sound.
Damn! His heart beat at breakneck speed. He gripped the ladder with
damp hands, climbing slowly, trying to be quiet.
When he reached the top, he peered
below. Jordan had his back to him, and was focused on the house.
Mitch tried to make out what Jordan was looking at, but the
sunlight reflected off the panes in the French doors, preventing
Mitch from seeing inside.
“I know what’s going on,” Fowler Jordan
yelled. “I’m not stupid. Your damn SWAT team guys are here, aren’t
they, Sweeney? I heard more cars drive up out there. Well, you’d
better get rid of them. Get everybody out of here, or I’ll kill
Emily now.”
Thank God! Mitch thought. Chief Madden
had kept Officer Sweeney in the house.
Jordan removed his arm from around
Emily’s waist and shoved her out in front of him, holding her by
her bloody shoulder. She moaned. Mitch closed his eyes against the
sight. Hot, sour liquid ran up his throat. He swallowed it. Jordan
had shot her, the son of a bitch! She was bleeding, her blouse
covered in red.
“Don’t hurt Emily,” Sweeney said. “Give
me your exact terms and I’ll talk to the chief and see if we can
cut a deal with you.”
“I want everybody out of here! Then I
want a car. You can drive us. If I see anybody following, I’ll kill
her.”
Mitch glanced down at the hedge below.
The top of the hedge was a good three or four feet beneath him.
Could he jump into the hedge, cushioning his fall, without Jordan
hearing him? No way! He’d have to take his chances with the ancient
piece of rope. He tied the rope securely to the cast-iron rail that
circled the top of the brick wall, then dropped it. The end of the
rope fell downward, a couple of feet curling on the
ground.
. Mitch eased himself over the wall,
grabbed hold of the rope and began his descent. Halfway down the
wall, his body partially hidden behind the hedge, he caught a
glimpse of the man standing just inside the open French doors. The
police negotiator. Jordan had called him Sweeney. He must have
introduced himself before he started bargaining. Well, Sweeney
wouldn’t be expecting him. What would he do when he saw Mitch
climbing down the wall?
Whatever you do, don’t give me away,
Mitch prayed. Don’t screw up this chance to save
Emily.
Sweeney saw him! Mitch sucked in his
breath. Sweeney glanced away. Mitch let out his breath and eased
down the rope and onto the ground.
“You tell the chief that there had
better be a plane waiting for us. A plane to take us out of the
country. I’ll take Emily far away from this place. We’ll start all
over again. This time she’ll do what I tell her to
do.”
“A plane to take you out of the
country,” Sweeney repeated. “If we provide you with a plane, we’ll
expect you to release Ms. Jordan.”
Fowler Jordan laughed, the sound harsh
and cold. “Absolutely not. She goes with me. What kind of fool do
you take me for?”
Mitch peered through the hedge, and for
the first time noticed that Sweeney was wearing nothing but his
boxer shorts. What the hell? Jordan had not only made the officer
discard his weapon, but he’d made him strip down to his
underwear.
Emily swayed on her feet Mitch called
upon every ounce of willpower he possessed not to run out and grab
her. Jordan shoved her into a nearby white wrought-iron chair, then
stood behind her, holding his gun to her head.
Mitch searched for and found a sparse
section in the thick hedgerow. Testing it with his shoulder, he
realized this was the place to crawl through. But how much noise
would that make? If he took the long way around, going to the end
of the hedgerow, he ran the risk of Jordan catching sight of him in
his peripheral vision. If only Sweeney would cooperate, make some
noise, create a distraction. Mitch stood up and stared at Sweeney,
who didn’t look his way. Mitch kept standing there until Sweeney
made eye contact. Only a split second, but he knew the guy saw him.
But did he understand?
Mitch bent down, eased his shoulder
into the hedge and waited.
“We really need to get a doctor in here
to see about Ms. Jordan’s shoulder,” Sweeney said.
Mitch stuck his head through the hedge
and saw Sweeney take a tentative step forward. Suddenly the man
tripped and fell directly into the French door. One of his feet and
one hand rammed into the glass panes, shattering them.
“What the hell?” Yelling, Jordan
stepped away from Emily.
Mitch crashed through the hedge, ran
the ten feet across the courtyard and jumped Fowler Jordan from
behind. Emily turned her head and cried out, then slid out of the
chair and onto the ground.
Mitch overpowered Jordan, sending them
both to the ground. They rolled around, the Magnum still in
Jordan’s hand—the hand that Mitch gripped with all his
might.
As they struggled for the gun, Jordan
dragged it between their bodies. Mitch felt the barrel pressing
into his stomach. He squeezed Jordan’s hand, turning the gun,
accidently forcing Jordan’s finger against the trigger. The gun
went off. Mitch froze.
Emily screamed. Mitch glanced around,
looking for her. He saw Sweeney helping Emily to her
feet.
Fowler Jordan lay on top of Mitch, a
hard, heavy weight Mitch rolled the man off him and onto the
ground. Jordan coughed several times. A trickle of blood oozed from
the side of his mouth.
“Mitch!” Emily cried out to
him.
Mitch lifted himself up on his knees,
his breath ragged, his chest hurting with every ounce of air he
consumed. He stood, shaky on his feet, and walked unsteadily toward
Emily. Sweeney released her. She rushed into Mitch’s
arms.
“It’s all over, pretty lady. All over.
You’re safe.” He circled her shivering body in an
embrace.
Crying, Emily clung to him. “I was so
afraid. I thought I’d never see you again, that I’d never get a
chance to tell you that I believe you love me. Oh,
Mitch—”
“Hush. Don’t talk,” Mitch told her.
“Save your strength. You can tell me all about how you feel once we
make sure you’re all right.”
Sweeney cleared his throat. “There’s an
ambulance outside waiting for Ms. Jordan.”
Holding Emily close, Mitch looked over
at Sweeney. “Thanks for distracting Jordan.”
“That was a dumb fool thing you did,”
Sweeney said.
“Maybe. But it was what I had to do.”
Mitch lifted Emily in his arms and carried her across the yard.
“How about opening the gate, Sweeney? I need to get my future wife
to a hospital.”
Emily’s hospital room was filled with
floral arrangements, but her favorite was the pale-pink roses Mitch
had sent. Sitting up in bed, she rested her head on his shoulder.
He hadn’t left the hospital since he’d carried her in the day
before. She rubbed her smooth cheek against the beard stubble
covering his face.
“You need a shave,” she told
him.
“Yeah, and a bath, too. But I don’t
want to leave. I can’t bear having you out of my
sight.”
“Nikki and Zed are coming back after
they eat lunch. They’ll stay with me long enough for you to get
cleaned up.”
Mitch cupped her face in his hands.
“Just let me look at you, pretty lady. God, when I think about how
close I came to losing you.”
“We have a great deal to be thankful
for, don’t we? Just thinking about what Uncle Fowler
did—”
Mitch covered her lips with his index
finger. “Don’t think about him. There’s nothing you can do to help
him.”
“I know. It’s just that I still can’t
believe Uncle Fowler was willing to kill me to keep me from being
with you. And he murdered Rod and Charles.” Emily covered her face
with her hands and wept.
“I’m sorry he wasn’t the man you
thought he was.” Mitch slipped his arm around her
waist.
“I don’t know what to think anymore.”
Emily lifted her tearstained face. Mitch wiped the moisture from
her cheeks with his fingertips. “It’s as if Uncle Fowler was two
different men. His obsession to have me marry Charles and spend the
rest of my life under his protection must have driven him
crazy.”
“I understand about obsessions,” Mitch
told her. “I’ve been obsessed with you for a long
time.”
“And now you love me, don’t you, Mitch?
You truly love me.” She made the pronouncement with conviction,
knowing that if she wanted the happiness only Mitch could give her,
she had to believe him. She had to take him on faith. Her
near-death experience had taught her that she shouldn’t waste time
on doubts and uncertainties. When fate handed you a miracle, you
didn’t question it. You reached out and grabbed it. And said
thank-you.
“Yes, I love you,” Mitch
said.
“Then after the funerals...” Rod’s had
been today, but the doctors had refused to release her so she could
attend. She would have to make the arrangements for Fowler’s and
possibly for Charles’s, too. He had no immediate family, only some
first cousins in the northern part of the state.
Mitch wrapped her trembling body in his
arms. She clung to him, knowing she was safe, assured that she
could put the rest of her life in Mitch’s hands and he would never
disappoint her.
“Once I’m completely recovered and have
made peace with what happened, I want us to plan a wedding,” she
said. “Nothing elaborate. Something simple and private, with just a
few friends. With Zed as our best man and Nikki our maid of
honor.”
How had a guy like him gotten so lucky?
Mitch wondered. He didn’t deserve Emily. He’d never be good enough
for her.
But who was he to question a gift from
God? And that’s exactly what their love was. A gift. The most
precious gift this life has to offer. Silently, prayerfully, he
made a sacred vow that he would love, cherish and protect Emily as
long as they lived.
“No more doubts?” he asked. “You’re
going to take me on faith?”
“I realized something, yon know.
Yesterday, you saved my life,” she said. “So, the way I see it, you
repaid whatever debt you owed me. Now you don’t have to marry me to
make atonement. You don’t have to pretend to love me if you don’t.
We’re all squared away.”
Mitch grinned. “Emily Jordan, I love
you.”
“Yes, I know you do,” she said, and
kissed him.