Best Kept Secret (Rochester Trilogy 3)

I reach down and take Paige’s hand. I’ll keep her out of the way, but I’m not letting Emily walk out of here with Joe. She’ll be dead before they get to his car. He’s willing to do it.

“No,” Paige says, and her face goes a deep scarlet. “No.”

In this situation, I won’t be able to convince her to calm down. There won’t be any way to redirect her from this meltdown. My heart aches for Emily. This is not the reunion she dreamed about with Paige—it can’t be.

“Stay here.” Emily leans in and kisses her cheek. “I’ll be back in just a minute.”

“No,” Paige screams, but Emily tears herself away.

Paige throws herself into the fight and I get my arms around her in time to keep her from running after Emily. She’s battling me with everything she has. Sharp elbows. Stomping feet. Her howls block out all the other noise in the room. This is too much for a little girl. It’s too much for anyone. I try to move her into the kitchen, but she digs her heels in, slapping one hand on the doorframe. She’s determined to go back out there. She doesn’t know, or doesn’t understand, how dangerous this is. I can’t blame her. In the space of one evening our lives have spun out of control.

Emily is in the fray now, saying something to Joe. Something loud. “—go with you.”

“No,” I tell her. She can’t leave her daughter again.

Joe turns his head. He’s distracted. One hand reaches away from his gun and toward her. Emily leans in, as if she’s going to let him do it. As if she’s going to let him drag her out of here by her arm and kill her.

That’s the opening Beau needs. He puts an arm across Joe’s chest and they’re wrestling again, only this time Emily is there, too. All her focus is on the gun. Getting it out of Joe’s hands. A flash of metal in the kitchen light. Paige’s screams are even louder now, filled with the same helplessness and rage I feel. It’s taking all my strength to keep her with me. I understand. I’d rather be out there, too. It would be better than standing on the sidelines and waiting for all this violence to determine the rest of our lives.

Emily stumbles back. “I have it,” she says. “I have it.”

It’s too much for Joe. His rage overtakes him. His eyes lock on Emily and the gun in her hands. This desperate plan was his only chance to fix things for himself. He’s a big man, and in his anger he seems even bigger. But he’s too wild. He doesn’t have the presence of mind to coordinate himself against Beau Rochester.

Beau manhandles him to the front door of the inn and wrenches it open. He pushes Joe out onto the porch. The front yard is flooded with lights. Joe’s silhouetted against miles and miles of red and blue. I see him shift, one direction, then the other. Deciding whether to run.

There’s nowhere to go. They have the whole yard surrounded, and then there are men thundering up onto the porch. Cracking footsteps thunder on old wood. Black FBI jackets crowd around Joe. My lungs scream for air, and I finally take a breath.

Paige wrenches from my hands and sprints toward Emily. She holds the gun up high, chest level, like she’s trying to keep it above water. “Beau,” she calls. He’s the closest one to her. He takes the gun from her hands and unloads it, tipping brass into his hand.

A lone agent walks into the living room. All the flashing lights make this place look like a movie set, but it’s real. It’s happening. My heart is going crazy. Beau hands over the gun and the bullets.

In a minute, all this activity is going to bubble over into the room. Into the inn. Someone will turn on all the lights. They might bring more lights—I don’t know. For now, Emily stands next to Beau. She leans down and picks up Paige, who wraps herself around her mom. Emily guides Paige’s head to her shoulder with one hand and whispers to her. I feel a pang of jealousy. They look good together, even bathed in red and blue like this. The three of them would be beautiful in a family portrait.

Beau looks at Emily holding Paige.

And then he looks at me.

The jealousy disappears like a popped bubble. His dark eyes settle on mine. I feel the same heat I did in the bedroom earlier. The same possession. We could be standing anywhere on the face of the earth, and it would feel just like this for him to look at me.

He holds out his hand, and I go to him.

Beau’s tall and solid, and I slide my hands around his waist and hold on tight. He folds his arms around me. The heat of him creates a barrier between me and the world. I would be fine if we went upstairs right now and collapsed into bed. I would be more than fine if we never did anything like this again. If I never watched him fight off a cop with a gun again. His big hands move up and down over my back. “Are you okay?” he asks. I feel the words through his chest more than I hear them. It’s loud in here. The voices from outside echo in and overlap with one another.