Creed knew better. He'd already made some phone calls to some people who knew some people, and red tape was being sliced through, the Trail Stop bridge shoved to the front of a list of projects. Creed expected the new bridge would be ready within a month.
Things would still be a mess in Trail Stop, though. Food in refrigerators and freezers would be spoiled, rain would have blown in through broken windows and damaged floors and walls, plus there was the little matter of all the bullet holes, damaged or destroyed possessions, vehicles that had been damaged... the insurance adjusters would be busy for a while.
At least the cops seemed to be leaning toward the scenario that there had been trouble in the bad-guy ranks, and one of them had turned on the rest. Unless Cal spoke up and said otherwise, that was the theory Creed was publicly buying.
Privately, Creed knew otherwise. He'd been on too many missions with the cunning bastard not to recognize his handiwork. Cal had always gotten the job done. No matter what that job was, he'd been Creed's go-to guy in tougher situations than this. He was never the biggest guy around, never the fastest or the strongest, but by God, he'd always been the toughest.
"You're smiling like a wolf," Neenah observed, which might have been a caution that people could be watching.
The comparison startled him. "Wolves smile?"
"Not really. It's more a baring of teeth."
Okay, so the comparison was an apt one.
"I was just thinking about Cate and Cal. It's nice to see them together." It was only half a lie. He'd been thinking about Cal. But, damn, it was nice the way he'd seen Cate three years ago and hung in there all this time, waiting for her to notice him - and while he was waiting, quietly bonding with her kids and inserting himself into her life so completely she wouldn't know what to do without him. That was Cal. He decided what he wanted, then he made it happen. Creed was suddenly glad Cal hadn't wanted Neenah, or he'd have had to kill the best friend he had in the world.
Creed directed Neenah to his house, and for the first time in his life he suddenly wondered if he'd left underwear lying on the floor. He knew he hadn't - his military training was too deeply ingrained - but if ever he had, it would probably be when Neenah would see the house for the first time.
He made it to the front door and started to unlock it, then noticed where Cal had knocked out a window. He laughed, reached inside, and unlocked the door, then maneuvered his crutches to the side so she could precede him inside.
He liked his place. It was rustic, small enough for him, but not too small, since there were two bedrooms. The kitchen was modern, not that he used it a lot, the furniture sized to fit him and comfortable enough to sleep on. The decorating was plain Jane, if you could call it decorating. The furniture was put where he wanted it, and the bed was made up. That was the extent of his domestic abilities, or inclinations.
She didn't have a place to live, he realized. Her house had taken a lot of hits, plus she couldn't even get to it right now. The sheriff's department had brought in a helicopter to airlift the stranded inhabitants to town, because that was deemed the fastest, easiest way.
"It looks like you," she said with her serene smile. "No nonsense. I like it."
He touched her cheek with one finger, lightly stroking her smooth skin. "You could stay here with me," he offered, going straight to the heart of what he wanted.
"Would you want me to have sex with you?"
He almost fell, the crutches suddenly becoming unmanageable, but he found he was incapable of lying to this woman, incapable of looking into those blue eyes and uttering anything except the absolute truth. "Hell, yes, but I want to do that regardless of where you live."
"You know I was a nun?"
How could she be so calm when his heart was suddenly beating so fast he thought he'd pass out. "I heard. Are you a virgin?"
She smiled, a tiny curve of her mouth. "No, I'm not. Does it matter?"
"It matters in that I'm relieved as hell. I'm fifty years old; I can't take that kind of stress."
"Don't you want to know why I'm not a nun anymore?"
He bit the bullet and hazarded a guess. "Because you liked sex too much to give it up?"
She burst out laughing. She seemed to think that was so hilarious, in fact, that she ended up sitting on his couch laughing so hard she cried. He began to get the idea she hadn't liked sex that much. He bet he could change her mind. He was slower now, and he knew a hell of a lot, and when it came to sex that was a good thing.
"I became a nun because I was too afraid of life, too afraid to live," she finally said. "I left the convent because those were the wrong reasons for being there."
He eased down beside her and put his crutches aside. With one arm around her he tilled her fate up. "Do you remember where we left off right before the bridge exploded and your house got shot up?"
"Vaguely," she said, the twinkle in her eye telling him she was teasing.
"Do you want to pick up there, or do you want to go to bed and make love?"
Her cheeks turned pink and she regarded him with absolute seriousness. "Bed."
Thank you, Jesus. "Okay, but first there are two things I want to get clear."
She nodded, her clear blue gaze locked with his.
"I've had the serious hots for you for years, I love you, and I want to marry you."
Her mouth fell open. She turned white, then pink again, he hoped with pleasure. She said, "That's three things."
He thought about it for a split second then shrugged before scooping her onto his lap to kiss her. "Actually, I think it's just separate parts of one big thing."