When he finally released her from his arms, he took her hand and began walking. “Let’s get out of here.” Calmer now, his brogue wasn’t as thick.
Outside, a crowd had gathered. Spotting the TV news vans parked across the quad, Sam muttered an expletive.
O’Malley rushed up behind them and said, “You need an escort out of here?”
“No,” Sam answered. “But you deal with them.” He motioned to the cameramen.
“Yeah, sure,” O’Malley said, and headed to intercept the reporters.
They had almost crossed the quad without being mobbed, but Carl spotted them and shouted Lyra’s name. Everyone who heard him ran toward Lyra and Sam.
“Is it true? Is Mahler dead?” Carl asked.
Lyra nodded, and Carl turned to Sam. “I know Mahler was a jerk, but we only had two more classes with him. Now what happens? You don’t think we’ll have to retake the entire class, do you?”
Before Lyra could answer, Eli said, “You couldn’t have waited until—” The look Sam shot him stopped him cold, and he hurried to get out of the way.
Sam didn’t say another word to Lyra until they reached her apartment.
“Pack something, and let’s get out of here.”
“No.”
“No?”
Sidney opened the door, shouted, “Oh my God,” and hugged Lyra. “You’re okay? Oh my God,” she repeated, but this time she threw herself into Sam’s arms. “I heard there was a shooting,” she said as she backed into the tiny living room so they could come inside. “I’ve gotten at least twenty texts, and I prayed it was you doing the shooting, Sam.”
“Lyra,” Sam said, “why don’t you pack a bag while I tell Sidney what happened.”
“No,” Lyra said again.
Sidney looked from one to the other, then scooped up her purse and keys. “I’ve got to run an errand. See you later.” And she was gone.
“Look what you’ve done,” Lyra said accusingly. “You made her leave her own home.”
Sam turned her toward him. “What’s the matter with you?”
“I’m not going anywhere with you, and let you leave me again. I won’t do it.”
“But I’m not leaving you. Not ever.”
The tenderness in his eyes made her believe him. Almost.
“Until when? Sam, I know you can’t let yourself be hurt again, and I understand. You loved your wife and you lost her. I wouldn’t want to go through that again either, but I—”
His kiss stopped her. He held her tighter still as he whispered in her ear. “I never want to be scared like I was today. I knew you were with Mahler, and I swear my heart stopped beating. Damn it, Lyra, I don’t want to live without you.” His hands cupped the sides of her face. “I love you, lass.”
The brogue was back full force. His voice was low, but she got the gist of what he was telling her.
“I can’t move in with you, Sam. Gigi would—”
“I guess I’ll have to marry you,” he said offhandedly.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
She pushed his hands away. “Have to marry me?”
He grabbed her before she could walk away. “When I have the ring, I’ll drop on one knee and propose officially, but know this, love: you are going to marry me.”
“My family … I won’t put that burden on you. I have responsibilities….”
“I know … to protect Gigi from her son. I can help with that.”
“And my parents … they’re always going to cause trouble. I can’t change them. I used to think I could, but—”
“Your brothers and I will help you with them.”
“Oh, God, my brothers. You won’t be good enough for me. That’s what they’ll say.”
“I’m not good enough for you, love, but I’m still marrying you.”
“Your parents are diplomats. Mine are con artists.”
Sam was slowly unbuttoning her blouse. She was nibbling on her lower lip while she was thinking about the differences between their families.
“I have money,” she said, a point in her favor.
Sam lifted her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom. He lowered her to her feet and slowly undressed her, pausing only long enough to shed his own clothes.
Lyra was breathless when she said, “If I have to, I’ll use all my money to fight those people. Honestly, my parents keep finding new lawyers….” Sam was kissing her neck.
He loved the way she smelled, the way she felt, everything about her.
“Lawyers are expensive….” she continued
“I know. I’m a lawyer,” he said as his kisses moved down her breasts.
Sam was driving her to distraction, and she couldn’t remember what she was trying to tell him.
They fell into bed and made love. Sam tried to take his time, but she became so demanding, he couldn’t hold back. When they had both cl**axed and were content, she told him that she loved him, too.
Later, after they were dressed, Sam told her to expect to be hounded by reporters.
“Mahler’s class would have been my only one tomorrow. Since I won’t have that, I think I’d like to go home.”
“To San Diego?”
“Yes. Do you think the police need me to stay here?”
“No, I’ll talk to O’Malley.”
After writing a note for Sidney and packing a little bag, they were on their way. No traffic to speak of, and only after they had passed the exit that would have taken them to Paraiso Park did Lyra remember the camera that was still taking pictures.
“O’Malley will have a crew out there digging for Mahler’s wife’s body. I’m sure they’ll have to dig up that little garden, too.”
“My camera—”
“I told him where it was. He’ll get it for you.” He reached across the console and took hold of her hand. “I imagine Flynn’s been picked up for a nice long conversation,” he said.
“Will I get those yard sale books back?”
“Eventually. What are you going to do with them?”
“I think I’ll have them auctioned for Father Henry’s church. They’re desperate for money. Bingo doesn’t pay the bills.”
He smiled. “You’ve got a good heart, Lyra Prescott.”
A few minutes passed in comfortable silence, and then she said, “I can’t believe it wasn’t the yard sale that started this. I was so sure people were trying to kill me because I’d taken something. I never would have suspected Mahler.”
“Look at it this way, if Merriam had known for sure you had the DVD, I’m sure he would have tried to kill you.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” She laughed.
“I should have homed in on Mahler sooner. I almost lost you, and I—”
“You got there in time,” she reminded him.
They talked about Mahler and his attempts to manipulate her away from photographing the park by steering her toward the children’s film competition.
“I guess I don’t have to rush to do the film now,” she said.
“Why not?”
“You shoot your professor, and it pretty much dooms your chances of his endorsing your film.”
“I’m sure as hell not sorry I shot him.”
“I’m not sorry either. You had no choice.”
When they were pulling into the garage at Gigi’s house, Lyra said, “Wait until you see the panic room.”
“It’s a real panic room?”
“One wall has metal reinforcement, so a bullet couldn’t get through, but only one wall. No reason to do any other. It works.”
Sam was impressed with the construction when he saw it. “You ever want to hide from relatives, this is the place.”
“I love this house. It’s comfortable.”
“We can keep it,” he promised her. “I might be able to transfer out here for a little while.”
“Then what?”
“We’ll get everything tied up, and then we’ll go home.”
Lyra liked the idea of keeping Gigi’s house. Her brothers would have a place to get away, and Gigi might want to come back for a vacation away from the Texas heat.
Gigi would be happy about the marriage. She had immediately taken to Sam, and she wouldn’t have to worry about her granddaughter any longer.
“I’m exhausted,” Sam said, breaking into her thoughts. And with that, he picked her up and carried her to bed. They slept with their legs entwined.
The next afternoon, O’Malley called. Sam was on the phone for a long time, and when he hung up, he grinned at Lyra and said, “Cat.”
“Excuse me?”
“They found the bones of a cat in the garden. Apparently all those pretty flowers were part of a memorial for someone’s dead kitty.”
Lyra had been certain the story behind the garden was something more romantic. She took a bottle of water from the refrigerator and went out to the porch swing. Sam followed her.
“A cat, huh?” Lyra shook her head.
“Well, there was a woman’s body buried nearby, too—apparently the late Mrs. Mahler.”
“D.C. isn’t anything like this, is it? Living there will take some getting used to for me.”
“We won’t be living in D.C.,” he told her.
She sat up to face him. “But you said—”
“I said we’re going home.” He smiled as he put his arm around her and pulled her close. “You’ll love the Highlands.”
FORTY-TWO
MILO SAT AT THE BAR SIPPING A COLD BEER WHILE HE STARED intently at the television. The eleven o’clock news was on, and he was watching Lyra Prescott being led out of a building by a man the reporter identified as an FBI agent.
“See that beautiful woman on the television?” he asked the man sitting next to him. When the man didn’t respond, Milo nudged him and said, “I had to break up with her. It was the only way to keep her safe.”
The stranger, bleary-eyed and drunk, patted Milo’s shoulder. “You did the right thing, buddy,” he slurred.
“I don’t watch the news regularly,” he told his new friend, “but I’m sure glad I watched tonight. You know, I gave up everything for her. I don’t regret it because, like you said, I had to do the right thing. Now I’m out of a job. I’m thinking about getting into another line of business, something less stressful.”
He couldn’t believe Merrian was in jail, and Charlie and Stack, too. All this time he had thought they were behind the break-in and the shooting. Oh well, can’t be right about everything.
“In other news,” the newscaster continued as Milo ordered his second beer, “Councilman Bill Jackson has resigned effective immediately so that he can mount a defense against the charges pending. The councilman was indicted on …”
Milo stopped listening. “There’s going to be a job opening if that councilman resigned.” He scratched his jaw. “That’s what I can do. Politics. I’ll go into politics.”
His friend patted him again. “You’re a natural, buddy. A natural.”
EPILOGUE
SAM AND LYRA WERE MARRIED AT ST. AGNES’S CHURCH. FATHER Henry happily officiated. Lyra had thought it would be a small affair, but by the time the guest list was complete, the San Diego church was packed with family, friends, and, according to Sidney, a veritable who’s who of the political and diplomatic arena, including ambassadors and other dignitaries.
Both the ceremony and the reception at the Coronado Hotel went off perfectly. Lyra thought it was probably because her mother and father had declined to attend. When Lyra told her mother that Sam had asked her to marry him and that she had accepted, her mother’s reaction wasn’t surprising.
“Oh, Lyra, what are you thinking? With your looks, you could do so much better than an FBI agent. If he’s after your money …”
Her father’s reaction wasn’t much better. “I’m sure he loves you, but just to make certain he isn’t after your money, I think you should consider transferring your trust to me. You’ll want to assure that the assets stay in the Prescott family, of course, so if you’ll …”
When Lyra refused, an argument ensued. It ended with her parents threatening to boycott the wedding, but despite their coercive tactics, she held her ground and did not give in.
She pretended she didn’t care, but the reality was that she was embarrassed that her father wouldn’t walk his own daughter down the aisle unless paid to do so. Owen and Cooper were enraged by their parents’ conduct, but neither was surprised, either.
Owen stepped in for their father. Sidney was Lyra’s maid of honor and walked down the aisle with Cooper. A cousin and two friends from Texas served as bridesmaids. Sam’s best man was his cousin Tristan, and Jack and Alec were groomsmen. In addition to the wedding photographer, there were photographers from newspapers and magazines outside the church covering the elegant event.
Lyra loved Sam’s parents, who were the complete opposite of her own. They were kind and generous, and welcomed her into their family with open arms. They offered to host a reception for Sam and her in the Highlands so that their Scottish friends and family could also welcome her. Gigi promised to attend.
Sam and Lyra spent their honeymoon at the house in San Diego. They had only three days before Lyra had to return to Los Angeles for the awards ceremony. Her entry into the competition for the Dalton Award had been disqualified last semester because, after Mahler’s death, she no longer had a sponsor. Nevertheless, she continued to work on her children’s film, and with another professor’s blessing resubmitted it the following semester. She won first place. She received multiple offers from production companies in Los Angeles and New York, but she declined them all. Lyra didn’t want to work for anyone. She loved the freedom of writing and directing her own work, and had come up with an idea for a children’s series she wanted to pursue. She could work from anywhere, which was fortunate, because three months later Sam took her to their home in the Highlands.
Her husband was full of surprises. The first surprise was that their home was a castle. It had been built centuries ago and was magnificent, but cold and formal. Fortunately, their small apartment on the second level was cozy and charming. The estate, or holding as Sam called it, was the most beautiful place she’d ever seen.