But Not For Lust by BJ Bourg (comprehension books .txt) 📕

Chateau Parish Sheriff’s Office Motor Pool

“I’ll wait here,” Amy told Baylor when they followed the tow truck into the parking lot of the sheriff’s office motor pool. She slapped her left leg. “I don’t want to slow you down.”

Baylor leaned toward her and fixed her with his dark brown eyes. “You don’t slow me down and I would never leave you behind—ever.”

She smiled. “I know. That’s why I love you.”

“Wait—you love me?”

“Yeah, I do.” Her heart pounded in her chest, not sure what to expect from Baylor. He was a man of few words and he never discussed his feelings. In fact, neither of them had talked about their relationship. Their history to this point had been simple: they had discussed going on a date, the shooting had happened, and then Baylor had moved her in with him during her recovery. Were they dating? Was it exclusive? Was she moving out after she recovered? She had no clue.

“I love you, too, Amy Cooke,” Baylor finally said, never taking his eyes off hers. “I knew it for some time—long before the ambush—but I didn’t think you would feel the same way about me.”

Amy sat stunned. “Wait—you were in love with me before that crazy bitch almost killed us?”

“Yep.”

She slugged him in the shoulder. “Then why in the hell didn’t you say something?”

“I…I don’t know.” He shifted his eyes to the front of the car, where the driver of the tow truck could be seen talking to a sheriff’s deputy near the gate. He turned back to her. “I guess I was afraid you wouldn’t feel the same and then it would make things awkward at work.”

“Hmm, I guess you’re right.” Amy considered this for a moment. Finally, she sighed. “Okay, I forgive you for making me waste several months of my life living as a single.”

Baylor leaned forward and Amy’s spine tingled when their lips met. When he pulled away, she slowly opened her eyes.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, “and then we can continue this discussion at home.”

Amy nodded and watched him leave. It wasn’t until he had disappeared through the gate with the tow truck that she remembered why she’d wanted to remain behind. Taking a deep breath, she stepped out of the passenger’s seat and made her way around the front of the car.

When she reached the driver’s door, she paused for a long moment. She closed her eyes, took a series of deep breaths, and tried to clear her mind.

“Think back to when you were a teenager and first learning to drive,” her psychologist had said during their last conversation. “Remember how exciting it was? You were like a young eagle getting ready to fly. You could taste your freedom. The simple act of driving was going to open up so many doors for you. You would finally be independent. You would never have to rely on others for a ride anymore. You could get a job and drive yourself to work. You could travel across the country to see Mount Rushmore, the Grand Canyon, the East Coast, West Coast—all of it—if you wanted to. If you had a sudden craving for an ice cream cone, you could jump in the car and go get one!”

In her mind’s eye, Amy could see that first time she was in her dad’s car learning to drive. He was beside her offering last minute instructions. His voice was calm and he didn’t sound a bit worried. Although she was bubbling with excitement, she was also terrified. She had asked her dad what would happen if she crashed his truck—the one he loved so dearly. He had laughed and said he’d get a better one, but that she shouldn’t worry, because she was ready.

Amy opened her eyes and snatched open the driver’s door to Baylor’s cruiser. Favoring her left leg a little, she slipped into the driver’s seat and twisted the key. The engine roared.

“Ah,” Amy said softly, “the sound of freedom.”

Without giving it a second thought and remaining mentally stuck in the past, with her dad beside her, Amy moved the AutoStick to R and backed out of the parking spot. She left the parking lot of the motor pool and got on the highway. With the windows down, she raced north for miles, letting the cold air of freedom blow through her blonde hair. She wasn’t sure how far she had gone, but when she came upon a widened portion of the shoulder, she abruptly slowed the vehicle, veered slightly to the right, whipped the vehicle around in the middle of the road, and then headed south again, a large smile spreading across her face.

Amy was parked back in the same spot at the motor pool by the time Baylor exited the secure storage portion of the motor pool, but she was still sitting in the driver’s seat. She buzzed the window down and smiled when she saw the quizzical expression on his face.

“Get in, lover,” she said. “I’m driving this bitch home.”

  CHAPTER 58

My heart thumping in my chest, I made a mad dash for the back yard. I’d been around firearms my entire life and had a discerning ear. The gunshots I’d heard had been fired from a single weapon—an automatic shotgun—and there had been no return fire. The thing that caused my heart to explode in my chest was that Susan was armed with a handgun, so the shotgun fire had to have been directed at her. There was only one reason she wouldn’t return fire, and that was because she had been hit and put down before she could react. The thought sickened me.

When I came around the back corner of the house, my pistol was out in front of me. I didn’t even remember drawing it, but there it was, ready to destroy Betty Watts. A sense of panic