Page 133 of Putting Out
“The power goes to my head sometimes.”
“You made it back.”
“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t have missed Sunday for anything.”
“Luke said you had to report to your boss.”
“I had to give a briefing and file a report. The bureau isn’t keen on us shooting people when we’re supposed to be on vacation.”
“I can imagine.”
Mark shrugged. “He understood that it was necessary. The footage shows he was reaching for another weapon when I fired.”
Reilly didn’t remember that. She didn’t remember anything beyond the sight of the knife sticking out of Kenny’s shoulder and the pop of the gun going off. She hated she remembered that much.
“Listen, I ran into Luke on his way out. He was taking your grandfather I’m guessing to the hospital? I told him I would give you a lift.”
“Oh, great. I’m ready to go. I’ve had all the media and people I can take for one day. Not to mention I’m starving.”
After collecting her bag Mark led her to his rental car and without too much fanfare, Reilly gazed out the window as she drove back down Azalea Lane and left the American National Golf Course for the last time.
“I can’t believe it’s over,” she whispered.
“In a good way or a bad way?” Mark asked.
“Both. I’ll be happy to return to my life, but I’m sad to see it end.”
“It didn’t end, though. Not really. You can come back next year.”
Next year. Another American. It seemed too far away for Reilly to even consider it. No, she would much rather think about the more pressing issues that she was facing.
Like what came next.
She was pretty sure she’d agreed to a marriage proposal on 15 so there was that.
They were getting married. It was almost too impossible to believe. Then came all the questions. When? How? Another big wedding? Another dress? Part of her recoiled at the idea of a formal wedding, but another part knew deep inside this time, it was for real. She had no idea if they could make it work, but she knew without a doubt either way, it would be her very last wedding.
There was also the little thing about her career on the LPGA tour. As dominant as she’d been before, what was she going to do now that she could hit a ball twenty yards farther?
Would they even want her back? Would the PGA?
“Damn,” she muttered.
Mark glanced at her.“Now there’s a sour expression if I’ve ever seen one.”
“Just thinking about the next tournament.”
“Already? You don’t want to give yourself a break?”
“It’s not when I’ll be playing next, but with whom I will be playing that’s got me preoccupied.”
“Ah, I see. I guess that means you’re thinking about making the switch to the men’s tour permanent.”
Reilly watched him as he stared out at the road. Something in his tone suggested he wasn’t thrilled with the idea, but she couldn’t imagine why it would matter.
“You don’t agree?”
He shot her a quick glance.
