Page 72 of Declan
When Markie saw him approaching them, a beautiful smile lit up her face.
“Hey, you two, I just wanted to tell you that I’m heading out.”
“So soon?” Markie asked as she smiled.
“I want to get going before the weather gets worse. You just had to have a December wedding,” Declan teased.
“Better than an outside wedding in mid-August,” she said.
Declan chuckled. “Too true.” He turned to Nate, then shook his hand. “It was a beautiful wedding. I wish you both the best.
“Thanks, Declan. We’re happy,” Nate said as he shook Declan’s hand.
“I can tell.” He turned toward Markie. “You look beautiful.”
He almost grinned when she blushed as Nate slipped his arm around her waist.
“She looks beautiful every day.” Nate kissed Markie’s temple.
“I’m sure she does. I just don’t understand how she ended up with you.”
Nate and Markie laughed.
“I gave him a run for his money,” Markie said.
“Keep him on his toes. I’ll see you both soon. Congratulations.”
Snow swirled all around him so thick that he couldn’t see across the street. He just wanted to get home, make a fire in the hearth and relax.
The following Monday evening, Declan steered his cruiser along Copper Ridge, the low winter sun glinting off the freshly plowed roadway. Declan had spent most of his Sunday using the bulldozer to move snow around his property. He exhaled a sigh of relief that the county crews had finally cleared the drifts from this notorious stretch. Every curve here seemed to whisper danger, and no matter how insistently Sam and Sheriff Grayson Beckett complained about it, and had pressed the mayor at town meetings, nothing had changed.
As he rounded a sharp bend hemmed by towering pines, headlights flared directly in his lane. Instinctively he lay on the horn. The shrill blast echoed off tree trunks, startling the oncoming driver into a frantic swerve. The other car’s tires skidded and slid, fishtailing through ice before plunging into the snowbank along the roadside.
“Son of a bitch,” Declan murmured, as he pulled the cruiser onto the shoulder of the road, reached for the door handle and placed his hat on his head. He stepped out into the bitter air, crunchy snow scattering under his boots. His jaw dropped when he spotted the door opening and Johnston fell onto the ground. He pushed himself up using the car, then stared at Declan, and folded his arms.
“Put your hands on top of your head and interlock your fingers,” Declan snapped. “You’re under arrest for DUI.”
But Johnston didn’t obey him at all. He stood leaning against the car with a smirk on his face. “You can’t know I’ve been drinking.”
“I can see the liquor bottles in your car from here, Johnston. Not only that, but you don’t have a valid license. Put your hands on your head and interlock your fingers. Now.”
When Johnston pushed off the car, Declan quickly removed his weapon and pointed it at him.
“You gonna shoot me, Cavanaugh?” Johnston slurred.
“Nothing would give me more pleasure. Put your fucking hands on your head. I won’t tell you again.”
Johnston laughed. “Good, then I don’t have to listen to you.” He took a few steps forward until he was close to Declan and he smelled of alcohol. “How about you put that gun away and we settle this man to man.”
“You can barely stand. It wouldn’t be a fair fight, that’s for sure.”
“For you or me? Because I am not afraid of you,” Johnston shouted as he stepped closer.
Before Declan knew what was happening, Johnston jumped on him, knocking him to the ground and punching him twice in the face. Declan rolled Johnston off him, got to his feet and watched as Johnston got to his, then Declan threw his fist, hitting Johnston and knocking him onto the ground, but he got up and ran to his car. Declan watched as he reached inside and pulled something out, but he couldn’t make out what it was, so he pulled his firearm, then Johnston ran through the snow and into the woods.
“Stop!” Declan bellowed; his voice sharp enough to cut the cold. But Johnston disappeared among the trees. Snow muffled his retreat, but a fresh track of footprints led deeper into the pine thicket. “I have no idea why you would run, you dumbass. I not only know you, I know where you live,” Declan muttered.
Declan ran across the road to open the cruiser’s back door and clipped a heavy leather leash to Tank’s thick collar. The Rottweiler snarled and strained, his hot breath steaming in the frigid air.
