Free I'll Never Let You Go (Morgans of Nashville) by Mary Burton Page A

life just wasn’t as clear-cut as it once had been.
    What she’d done bothered her, given her some sleepless nights. But what upset her as much as the dirty deed was that she’d confessed her secret in a moment of weakness to her soon-to-be ex-husband. At one time they’d been so close. They’d met almost four years earlier right after she’d taken the detective job with Nashville Vice. Tyler Radcliff had been working as a deputy in a small town near Nashville, and they’d met at some cop fund-raiser. It had all been wine and roses.
    Loving Tyler had been so easy and perfect in those early days of their marriage. His strength had made her feel protected in a world that felt as if it were crumbling. Complete trust had gone hand in hand with love. That trust, combined with a little too much Jim Beam, had coaxed the secret loose.
    When their marriage really soured she couldn’t exactly say. But the demands of her job took a toll. He certainly blamed the growing distance on her job. How many times had he said that she loved the work more than him? At first, she’d denied the accusations. Of course she loved him more. But each time he correctly pointed to yet another night he’d sat waiting for her at a restaurant or bar while she’d been finishing up a stakeout or meeting with the medical examiner.
    As the weeks, months, and accusations accumulated, she’d wondered if he didn’t see a truth she denied. She did love her job. Distance grew between them, even as her case-closure rate soared. Nothing, including great sex, revved her up more than catching a piece of scum like Ray Murphy.
    Tyler had grown increasingly angry, and several times last fall, when she’d dragged in the back door dog-ass tired, he’d gotten in her face and accused her of sleeping around. She hadn’t been screwing around. She’d been working, and it hurt like hell to realize he didn’t trust her. Finally, one night after a bad fight, she’d stopped crying and gotten pissed. Five months ago, she’d packed up a suitcase full of clothes and moved out.
    Initially, the guilt had chewed on her. He’d begged her to return. Said he loved her. But as much as he pleaded, she understood their marriage was over. There were moments, generally after she’d reached the bottom of her fourth or fifth beer, when she could admit she still loved Tyler. But the next morning, when she woke sober and clear-eyed, she realized the decision to leave had been the right one.
    Then he’d started following her. Calling her. Sending flowers. Coming by the station. Generosity gave way to desperation. More than anything, she just wanted him to leave her alone. Stop with the late-night calls. Stop sending her e-mails laced with profanity and threats.
    Six weeks ago, he’d completely stepped over the line. He’d approached her while she was in the produce aisle of the grocery store. He’d come up behind her as she filled a plastic bag with apples. He’d scared the shit out of her, and she’d dropped the apples, sending them rolling over the tile floor. When she’d told him to back off, he’d threatened to expose her secret. He had no reason to remain loyal if she didn’t. He’d stalked off, leaving her to pick up the bruised fruit. She’d known then what needed to be done. Tyler would bring her career tumbling down. The threats had to be nullified.
    Talking to Leah had hit a nerve. They were more alike than she’d ever want to admit. Yes, she was a cop who wasn’t afraid to go balls to the wall when chasing a suspect, but right now, her world, as Leah’s had been, was a house of cards.
    She hated using Leah, but, deep in her gut, she believed that one day she would look at her and know in her heart she’d done the woman solid.
    One day. If this little game of Russian roulette didn’t backfire. “Damn.”
    She signed the evidence log and grinned at the officer. “Cold enough for you out there?”
    “I’m not a fan of winter. I dream of floating down the