Whispering Rock (Virgin River #3)

Whispering Rock (Virgin River #3) Page 50

“Nah. I’m just doing time. I’ll be gone before you know it.”

“What about Brenda?” Mike asked.

“There’s no girl, man. I sold her out. She’s finished with me.”

“You sure about that?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “We don’t talk. She won’t even look at me.”

“I saw her over at the sheriff’s department—she wears that bracelet you gave her. The pretty one with her name on it.”

“I know. I think she’s punishing me with it. Gives me false hope.”

“Maybe that wasn’t quite it,” Mike said. “Maybe she was just scared and mad, but not really finished.”

“I wish,” he said, leaning on the rail and looking down. “Nah, she said she hated me, and she’s pretty much acting like it.”

“You regret what you did?”

“No, can’t get there,” he said. “That guy had to be stopped. That stuff can’t happen. It’s wrong.” He coughed. “I knew there was a price.”

Mike clamped a hand on his back. “Tom, a man who will do what he has to do even though there’s a price, that’s a man I want at my back when there’s trouble. You did the right thing.”

“Sure,” he said inconsolably. “Glad you got him,” he added.

“I brought someone to see you,” Mike said.

Tom straightened. “Yeah? Who?”

Mike inclined his head over his shoulder and Tom turned. Behind him about twenty feet stood Brenda, her hands clasped in front of her. Tom looked at Brenda, at Mike, at Brenda again.

“Oh, God,” Tom said. “Brenda?”

He took a couple of steps toward her and she ran to him. Mike stepped back and watched with a melancholy smile on his face. Tom snatched her up into his arms, lifting her clear of the ground. She hugged his neck while he held her tight and he heard what sounded like laughter mixed up with tears. And then of course the sound was muffled because it was buried in kisses that were desperate and heartfelt.

“You can probably give her a ride home later,” Mike said, though no one acknowledged that they’d heard. He shook his head in silent laughter and started back up the hill. As he was nearing the house, he looked up to see the general in one of his big picture windows. Walt slowly lifted a hand toward Mike and saluted him.

Mike returned the salute.

When Mike got back to town, it was already dinnertime. He was ready for a beer, but he went to the RV first to see if Brie was back from helping her brother and sister-in-law at the new house—a work in progress with wallpapering, unpacking, cleaning, settling. And he found she was there, wearing her bathrobe, patting dry her long hair with a towel. Every time his eyes even fell on her, he felt himself swell with pride that she would choose him.

It had been a long six weeks since the trial in Sacramento. The color was back in her cheeks, the sparkle in her eyes. Assisting the ADA in Humboldt County was gratifying for her; she was proud she could contribute. And she was enjoying the help she could give Mel and Jack, having a good time with her little nephew. It was so satisfying to know she felt secure and at peace once again. To have her in his life, to hold her and tell her he adored her, this was enough to make him feel as any king might feel.

“You’re back,” he said, going to her for a kiss.

“They’re very close to being all settled now. I papered the new baby’s bedroom, with no help from Davie, I might add.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Ravenous. You?”

“It’s been a long day,” he admitted.

“And all that date-rape business? It’s still falling into place for the ADA?”

“Better than I could have hoped, acting alone as I was. They’re doing a fantastic job with it, and you were instrumental in that. These people can have it behind them soon.”

“Which means we’ll have it behind us,” she said.

He threaded a hand under her long hair, gently massaging her neck. “There will be more cases for you, mija. Your skills are so valuable here. Thank you for that.”

“We have other things to do, Miguel. For one thing, there’s that baby. We need to get to work on that baby.”

His grin was immediate and huge. “I thought I had been working on the baby,” he said.

“You’ve been doing your best, I’m sure, if a little distracted by work. Now that all this stuff is handled, we can give it serious attention.”

“How do you feel about takeout?”

“Excellent idea,” she said, standing to loosen the belt around her robe.

A year and a half ago Mike Valenzuela lay in a coma in an L.A. hospital, his family wondering if he would live, and Brie Sheridan was trying to survive the reality of her husband abandoning her for another woman, and a few months later trying to recover from a violent crime. Neither had dared hope they would come out of these traumas with their health and sanity, much less a love that felt eternal. A love so fulfilling and endless that anything seemed possible. And yet for both of them, something had been born that exceeded their wildest fantasies.

“Do you have any idea how much I love you?” he asked her.

“That’s the best part,” she answered. “I do.”