“Rourke, what do you think?” she asked her purse.
But there was no reply. She looked around. She didn’t see Rourke or Chet. That was odd. They’d been visible every minute since she came to San Antonio.
“Maybe it would be all right,” she said. “I just want to stretch my legs for a minute.”
“All right,” Bentley said. “But you stay close to me.” He slid his big hand into her small one and closed it warmly. “I’ll take care of you.”
She smiled wearily and laid her head against his shoulder for a minute. “Okay.”
They walked out into the cold night air. The sidewalk was crowded. Traffic passed by. There was a policeman on the corner, leaning back against a storefront, talking into a cell phone. Nearby, two men in suits were talking, oblivious to passersby.
All around them, neon signs and holiday lights brightened the darkness. “It’s almost Christmas,” she exclaimed. “With all that’s happened, I forgot.” She grimaced. “We won’t get to open presents under the tree this year. Kell will never be able to go home by Christmas Eve.”
“Then we’ll put up a small tree in his room and transfer the presents up here from Jacobsville,” he promised her. “We’ll have Christmas here.”
She looked up at him with soft, quiet eyes. “We?”
His jaw tautened. “I’m not leaving you again. Not even for a day,” he said huskily.
The words made tears brim in her eyes. The way he said it was so poignant, so passionate. He didn’t even need to say what he was feeling. She read it in his face.
He pulled her into his arms and held her close, hugged her tight, buried his face in her long, soft hair. “Marry me.”
She closed her eyes. “Yes. Yes!” she whispered.
His chest rose and fell heavily. “Of all the places to get engaged,” he groaned. “With a thousand eyes watching.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she whispered.
No, he thought. It didn’t.
“Hold him! I’ll get her!”
The voices came suddenly into what was the sweetest dream of Cappie’s life. She was so relaxed, so happy, that it took precious seconds for her to realize what was about to happen. She felt Bentley torn from her arms. Two men were pulling his arms behind him. A violent jerk brought her around as two bruising hands caught her shoulders and twisted them. Above her, Frank Bartlett’s angry, contorted features came into view, his narrow dark eyes promising retribution.
“Got you at last, didn’t I?” he growled. “Now, you’re going to pay for what you did to me!”
She cried out and tried to pull away from him, but his hands were too strong. He drew one back and slapped her as hard as he could, so hard that she staggered and would have fallen if he hadn’t jerked her back up brutally with the other hand.
Her face stung like fire. There would be a bruise. But it only made her mad. She drew back her high-heeled foot and kicked him in the calf muscle as hard as she could. He yelled in pain and slapped her again. But before he could draw back another time, he suddenly went down under a vicious tackle.
“That’s the way, brother!” came a cheering cry from the sidelines.
“Go get him!” came another hearty voice.
Bentley was knocking the stuffing out of Frank Bartlett, his big fists making the other man, a match for him pound for pound, cry out in pain.
“Now isn’t he talented?” Rourke murmured as he drew a shaky Cappie back from the crowd. He looked at her bruised face and winced. “Sorry we didn’t rush right in, but we wanted to make sure we had plenty of witnesses and an excellent case for the prosecution.” He jerked his head toward Chet and the two men in suits. They had the two men with Frank subdued and handcuffed. The uniformed officer who’d been on the corner was standing with them.
“We had you staked out,” Rourke told her. “I wouldn’t have done it this way, if there had been any other choice.”
She reached up and patted his cheek. “You did good, Dead-Eye,” she said with a smile, and winced when it hurt. “I’m going to look like an accident victim for a few days, I’m afraid.”
“No doubt about that. Your poor face!”
She glanced back toward Frank. Bentley was still pounding him. “Shouldn’t you save Bentley?”
“Bentley?” he exclaimed.
