| |
––––––––
Her son was far too pale, and subdued. Far more subdued than the last time Kate had seen him during the previous week’s visiting time. It worried her. “How are you holding up, buddy?”
Grant’s gaze lifted to hers, his mouth compressing into a thin line as he shrugged. The resentment and bleakness in his eyes was like a gut punch.
She hated seeing him in here. Hated seeing him in the orange prison system jumpsuit, and having guards stand around watching while she visited with him. He was a good boy, wasn’t violent. He’d always gotten good grades and had never been in trouble before, at school or anywhere else. He’d only gotten mixed up in bad things because of Victor.
Merely thinking his name sent a torrent of anger through her. She buried it for now and put on an encouraging smile for her son. “Well. Not long now, right? Soon I’ll be here to pick you up and we’ll head out, just the two of us.”
“What do you mean, head out?”
He wasn’t going to like this. She lowered her gaze, unable to meet his eyes when she told him. “I had to sell the house.”
He groaned and slumped in his chair. “Great. So we’re homeless now on top of everything else.”
“No, we’re not. I’m renting a condo right now. I had to sell most of our furniture, but I kept your bed and all your stuff. It’s in storage. When I come to get you I’ll have it all packed up and ready to go.”
“Go where?” he said in a lifeless tone.
“I was thinking Denver. You always talked about going there, and maybe we could go see the Broncos play from time to time.” He didn’t look the least bit heartened by the news. Not a single spark of excitement.
She withheld a sigh, regret sitting heavy in her chest. She should have protected him more. Shouldn’t have turned a blind eye to what had been going on when all her instincts had warned her something was wrong. Damn you, Victor.
No matter what happened after Grant was released, for damn sure she wasn’t getting involved with anyone again. It was clear that her shitty taste in men wasn’t ever going to improve.
First Grant’s father, who had left her pregnant and alone in the middle of her first year of college, then the string of guys that had floated into and out of her life after him, and ending with her falling prey to Victor’s lies and manipulation.
She was done. It was time she become independent and live her life on her terms.
“It’ll be an adventure,” she said, trying to put a positive spin on things. “Just you and me on the road together, heading for a new life.” She was looking forward to it. To getting her son back, instead of this near stranger sitting opposite her.
Grant didn’t answer, staring at the table between them. He was a totally different kid than before the arrest. This place had broken his spirit, and it scared her.
A uniformed guard strode over, expression bored and grim. “Time’s up.”
Her heart clenched. She glanced at her watch to make sure he wasn’t cheating them on time. The half-hour visit had flown by. “Well.” She gathered her purse and stood, feeling helpless, then stepped around the table to hug her son.
Grant stood stiff as a poker but she didn’t care, squeezing him tight in spite of his reaction. “I love you. Be strong for just a little while longer, and then this will all be over and behind us forever. Promise.”
His arms came around her finally. “I’m sorry, Mom,” he whispered against the top of her shoulder.
She squeezed her eyes shut, hurting for him. “I know, buddy. I’m sorry too. But after this, things are gonna get better. You wait and see.” She would make it be okay again.
It broke her heart to leave him. She watched him be escorted through the armed steel doors, then released a long breath and left. She had just reached her car when her phone rang.
She wouldn’t have answered, except the number was vaguely familiar. “Hello?”
“Kate?”
“Yes. Who’s this?”
“Special Agent Smithers.”
Oh, God. The damn Fed who had dragged her in to interview after interview and made her feel like a criminal while he questioned her about everything in her life, no matter how private. “What can I do for you?” she said stiffly.
“I’m calling to inform you that Victor Montague escaped custody.”
She sucked in a breath. “What? When?”
“Early this morning. He fled the scene in a vehicle occupied by at least two accomplices.”
“Shit. Has he been spotted at least?” They had to know where he was, right?
“Not yet.”
She ran a hand over her mouth and chin, heart thudding. She didn’t know much about the inner workings of the organization Victor worked with, but she’d overheard certain things. Things that Victor would want to stay secret. Did he know? “Any idea where he’s headed?”
“We think California probably.”
He wouldn’t come after her now. Wouldn’t risk being caught again just to confront her. Would he?
“Has he made contact with you?”
“Of course not.” Not that Smithers would believe her. He didn’t seem to believe anything she said. Without a doubt he would be monitoring her phone now. Maybe even putting surveillance on her.
Maybe that was a good thing. If Victor contacted her or tried to find her, they could catch him before he got to her.
She rubbed her forehead, sick of this and Victor’s bullshit. Fuck my life.
“I don’t have anything more at this time, but I’ll be in touch when there’s an update.”
“All right. Thank you.” She put her phone in its dock on the dashboard and wrapped her hands around the steering wheel, staring through the windshield at a group of prisoners in the exercise yard.
The initial shock was fading now. Anger bubbled up to replace it.
Victor. The fucking idiot was going to ruin everything.
As soon as she thought it, a tendril of fear crept up her spine. Victor was a liar and a master manipulator capable of murdering people in cold blood. She had agreed to testify against him to keep him behind bars.
He might see her as a liability.
She spotted Grant in the exercise yard with the others. Standing off to the side, alone, his back against the chain link fence. Head bowed. He looked...broken.
Protectiveness roared through her, erasing the fear. Fuck Victor. Fuck him, his “associates” in the organization, and anyone else who posed a threat to her and her son.
She would do anything to protect them. Including using Victor’s secrets against him, and contacting the one person who wanted Victor out of the picture as much as she did.
No one was going to endanger her or her son ever again.
****
Ember finished reading the page she was on and set the open paperback down on her chest, staring at the ceiling. Her eyes were tired from the coding she’d reviewed earlier, yet tired as she was, she couldn’t sleep. Mozzie was sprawled out on her side at the foot of the bed, snoring away.
They’d made a lot more progress today in the bonding department. After their afternoon walk, staying close to the cabin because the little voice at the back of Ember’s head wouldn’t stop whispering that Montague was on the loose, Mozzie had curled up at Ember’s feet for a while as she sat in the chair in the living room by the wood burner to warm up.
Ember looked down at her. She still wasn’t the dog Ember remembered, but Mozzie wanting to be up on the bed and this close to her was a big comfort and weight off her mind. She was glad for the company.
It was eleven o’clock at night, and pitch dark outside. A steady rain pattered on the roof. Somewhere in the trees behind the cabin, an owl hooted.
The sounds and atmosphere inside should have been cozy and soothing, but even with Mozzie here she was still on edge. Every unfamiliar sound set her heart tripping, and as expected, being so close to where the attack happened was amplifying her post traumatic stress. So far she’d purposely avoided walking anywhere to the south of the property, not yet ready to enter the area where she and the others had been the day of the attack.
Being alone here was hardest at night, and knowing Montague was on the loose wasn’t helping ease her mind any. Her nightmares had been so much worse ever since she’d made the decision to come back here. So bad she’d woken with her heart jackhammering and covered in sweat, the waves of nausea sending her running for the toilet.
Maybe being this isolated was a mistake. Maybe she should have taken Noah’s offer and stayed with him and his wife until Mac could find her another place.
Maybe you should leave Crimson Point entirely.
As soon as she thought it she rejected the idea. She’d come here for an essential reason. To prove to herself that she was strong enough to face the past—and deal with it once and for all.
Now that she was actually here, she was questioning all of that. Instead of making her feel brave and confident, being back here made her feel more alone than she ever had in her life.
She pushed all that from her mind, and for some reason an image of Boyd popped into her head. He’d unnerved her, yes, but there was also something...magnetic about him. Something impossible to ignore.
His quiet confidence was unmistakable and comforting. He’d protected and cared for Mozzie without expecting anything in return. Even with his intimidating size and demeanor, he was a protector at heart.
A strange knocking sound from nearby made the breath catch in her throat. She sat up straight, tensing as she listened. At first she thought it was coming from outside, but then it came again and she realized it seemed to be coming from inside the wall somewhere.
A minute later, a rattling sound started. Pipes?
The knocks got louder.
Mozzie woke up and flipped to all fours as Ember got out of bed to investigate. The noise was even louder out in the hallway.
She stopped to check the bathroom. None of the faucets or the showerhead were dripping. Maybe it was coming from under the kitchen sink—
Bang!
She jumped, a squeal escaping her as she pressed a hand to her chest. “What the hell was that?” she blurted, heart in her throat.
Paws tapped on the floor behind her. Mozzie came to stand next to her, peering into the low-lit room ahead. In the living room, a faint, reddish glow came through the glass of the wood burner door. It spilled over the living room and into the hall...where a growing pool of water was spreading rapidly from the utility closet.
“Ah, crap.” She hit the closest light switch and paused. Water was coming out from under the shut closet door. She strode over and pulled it open, unwittingly unleashing a small tidal wave.
It hit her from mid-thigh down, soaking her flannel PJ pants and socks. Mozzie yelped and scrambled out of the way, making a run for it down the hall.
Cursing, the hallway light not bright enough to show much of anything in the closet, Ember blindly reached in and tried to locate the source of the leak. She didn’t see it, but her hand landed on a lever at the back of the tank.
Being a coding expert, she prided herself on her logic. The lever had to be some kind of shutoff. She twisted it this way and that, trying to stem the flow of water from the tank.
A ping sounded, then a new stream hit her in the face.
She sputtered, turned her head and frantically groped inside the closet for some sort of shut off valve. Okay, so not that lever. Trial and error for the win. Like writing a line of code that didn’t work, you just deleted it and tried something else.
Finally, locating another one at the top, she twisted it to the right, hoping she wasn’t making it worse. “Righty tighty, lefty loosey...”
The gushing water slowed somewhat. Encouraged, she twisted harder, and slowed the flow from a torrent to a gentle stream. But it didn’t stop. Water continued to come out of the pipe above the tank, as well as the tank itself.
She was still calling it a win.
Abandoning her efforts, she dashed to the bathroom, grabbed all the towels and wrapped them around the leaks while she searched for another valve higher up the pipe. She knew nothing about plumbing, but common sense dictated that there would be some kind of shut off valve before the busted section of the pipe reached the tank.
Ten minutes later she admitted defeat and gave up. The water had spread all the way to the living room now, saturating the nearest half of the wall-to-wall carpet there. The kitchen and hallway had a couple of inches of standing water in them. And the bathroom and bedroom were drenched as well.
Mozzie was on the bed when she entered, peering at Ember anxiously. She sat beside Mozzie for a moment, petting the dog’s head as she reached for her phone on the bedside table. “We can’t stay here, baby.” Not unless they wanted to wear masks and snorkels, or sleep in her vehicle.
She hesitated while bringing up Mac’s number. It was already so late. If she called him it would probably take him over thirty minutes to get here. By then all the rooms would be under water. She needed someone sooner. Someone closer, and she could contact Mac in the morning.
There was someone closer. Someone who Mozzie liked a lot...
She nibbled on her lip for a few moments, then texted Boyd.
Hey. Sorry to bother you, but Mozzie and I have a flood situation. I can’t find the main water shut off. Would you be able to help?
She lowered the phone to her lap, wondering if she’d overstepped. Then a reply popped up.
I’ll be there in a few minutes.
A little surprised by how fast he’d responded, but mostly relieved, she hurriedly gathered some of her things up onto the bed to keep them from getting soaked. There were more in the closet but she could come back for them later once the water was under control. The whole time, she could hear water gurgling from the leaks and splashing onto the flooded floor in the hall.
Headlights swung across the hallway wall outside her room minutes later. Mozzie barked, jumped down, and raced for the door, splashing through the water as she went.
Ember sloshed after her, grabbed the dog’s collar and pulled open the door. A rush of cold wind gusted in, cutting right through her soaked pajama bottoms.
Boyd climbed out of his truck and strode up the stairs. He looked even bigger than she remembered, a huge shadow looming over her, his shoulders wide enough to practically fill the doorway. He had a toolbox in his hand.
He stepped into the circle of light cast by the porch light, and her insides tightened when her gaze landed on the holstered weapon on his hip. A chill swept through her that had nothing to do with the wind or her wet clothes.
Mozzie whimpered and tried to pull away from her, pulling toward Boyd.
“Um, hi,” Ember said, a little embarrassed for him to see her standing there looking like a drowned rat with her wet hair and pjs. But that gun on his hip made her way more uncomfortable. “Thank you for coming so fast.”
“No problem.” His gaze swept over her from head to toe, creating a strange current of heat inside her. Then he glanced past her to take in the situation and crouched to pat Mozzie, who settled and leaned into his touch. “When did it start?”
She stepped back to let him in. “About twenty minutes ago. I found a valve above the tank, but the pipe’s leaking above that.”
His boots squished over the sodden carpet on his way to the open utility closet in the hall. Ember and Mozzie both followed. The water was still coming out of the pipe at a steady pace.
Boyd pulled out a flashlight, examined the problem, then went in search of the main shutoff and went out the back door. Ember hovered back in the hall, rubbing a towel over her wet hair. Mozzie stood poised in the doorway, watching him.
She heard the scrape of stone or cement on something hard, then a few seconds’ pause and he came back inside. He shut the door behind him, his green stare cutting to her in a way that made her heart beat faster. “Shut off valve was outside in the cistern. Flow will stop soon, but you’re not gonna be able to stay here. You got someplace to go?”
“Sheriff Buchanan said I could call him if...” Her voice dried up under the force of that riveting stare.
“Get your stuff. You can stay at my place for the night.” He pulled his phone out and walked past her, already dialing someone.
Ember gaped at the empty doorway, pulse thudding in her throat. Stay with Boyd?
She could hear his deeply pitched voice out in the living area, explaining what had happened. Seconds later she heard splashing footsteps and he reappeared, holding out his phone to her. “It’s Mac,” he said.
She took the phone. “Hi, Mac. So sorry about this. I wasn’t going to bother you until morning.”
“No, lass, I’m the one who’s sorry. Boyd says he’s shut off the water, and I’ll be out first thing to see what I can do to fix the damage. He told me he’s offered to have you stay at his place for the night. Are you comfortable with that? If not, you can come here, or I’m sure Noah and Poppy would be happy to take you in—”
“It’s okay, I’ll go with him.” Mac’s and Noah’s wives were both pregnant. Ember didn’t want to invade their space and put them to any more trouble. Boyd might intimidate her somewhat, but she knew he wouldn’t hurt her. Not only that, she knew instinctively that he would protect her. And Mozzie would be thrilled to be at his house again.
After quickly grabbing her packed things, she followed Boyd outside. He already had his truck running, and Mozzie perched in the front seat. “You can follow me up,” he said, taking her bags from her. His scent was intensified somehow. Dark spice and cool evergreen. Utterly masculine, and totally delicious.
She murmured a thank you and got into her car, her wet pjs clinging to the leather seat.
The silhouette of Mozzie’s pointy ears was visible in the passenger seat as she followed him on the short drive back to his place. Warm light glowed in the front windows from under the covered verandah, making it look cozy and inviting.
She hoped her decision to accept his offer wasn’t going to be a mistake.
He took her things in while she followed Mozzie inside. As soon as he set Mozzie’s bed on the floor in front of the fire, she trotted over and curled up in it, gazing up at him with adoring brown eyes.
Ember couldn’t blame her. Boyd had literally just come to their rescue and given them a safe place to stay.
He straightened and faced Ember, the light of the dying fire in the hearth highlighting the silver at his temples.
Of their own volition, her eyes dropped to the holster on his hip. He wore the gun so casually, as if it was such a part of him that he didn’t even notice it.
But she noticed it. Every cell in her body was aware of it. Aware of the death and destruction such a weapon could create.
A beat of silence passed, and she met his gaze again.
Looking right at her, Boyd reached his big hands down to undo the holster belt, removed it, and walked across the room to place it on a shelf. “Spare room’s upstairs,” he said quietly, and turned away without another word.
Ember didn’t have time to be embarrassed about her reaction. Mozzie got up and scrambled after him. Ember trailed behind them, up the stairs to the second floor and down the hall. Boyd opened the bedroom door and set her bags down near the dresser.
“Bathroom’s through there,” he said, indicating an en suite. “It’s got fresh towels and should have everything you need.” His gaze swept over her again, assessing, but there was something more there this time.
Something that set off a telltale tingle low in her belly.
“Make sure you get out of those wet clothes and warmed up with a hot shower. Leave them outside your door and I’ll wash them for you. You want tea or anything? Hot cocoa?”
It was sweet of him to offer, but he’d already gone to enough trouble. “I’m fine, thank you. And thank you for putting us up.”
He nodded, reached down to scratch behind Mozzie’s ears. “See you both in the morning.”
He shut the door behind him, and she let out a long breath as his footsteps faded down the hall. Mozzie whined and scratched at the door, wanting to follow him.
Ember empathized. The man had a magnetic allure she felt all the way to her bones. “Sorry, sweetie. You’re stuck with me again.” She put Mozzie on the foot of the bed, and the dog flopped down with a disappointed sigh to stare at her.
In the connecting bath she stripped off the cold, clammy pjs and got into the hot shower. Warm, dried and cuddled up under the thick comforter on the guest bed a few minutes later, she petted Mozzie and struggled to sift through her shifting emotions.
Nothing about this trip so far had gone according to plan. Including Boyd Masterson and the disconcerting pull he seemed to exert on her.
Her conflicting reactions to him confused her. He had been an elite soldier for most of his life. He wore a weapon on him even at home, and she was sure there were others somewhere inside these walls. That should make her uneasy. And it did. Yet...
With no place to go and Montague out there somewhere, she would rather take her chances on this former soldier who didn’t seem to mind taking in strays.
