The little girl giggled. His own mouth curved at the sound. Glancing back, Trina caught him smiling, and was obviously startled. He got rid of the smile.
“This bedtime?” he asked, nodding at Chloe.
“Uh-uh!”
It took him a second to realize the protest had been verbal. “She talks,” he teased.
Trina shook her head. “Now you’ve done it, kiddo. You won’t be able to fool him again.”
And damn, he wanted to smile.
* * *
SOMEHOW TRINA ALWAYS ended up wet even though it wasn’t her taking the bath. Chloe liked waves, and she liked to splash. She did not like having her hair washed or getting water or soap in her eyes.
At home, Trina had had a plastic stool she’d bought for the express purpose of supervising baths and washing Chloe’s hair. Today, she’d knelt on the bath mat. Chuckling as she bundled the three-year-old in a towel, Trina said, “As much as you love your bath, I think you’re ready for swim lessons.”
Chloe went rigid, panic in her eyes.
Going on alert, Trina used a finger to tip up her chin. “Or have you taken them before?”
Lips pinched together, Chloe shook her head.
On instinct, Trina kept talking, if only to fill the silence. “Maybe swim lessons are offered only during the summer.” She should know, but she tended to tune out when colleagues and friends who had children started talking about things like that. Had Chloe been disturbed only because she was afraid to put her face in the water? But Trina didn’t buy that. Taking a wild guess, she said, “Were you supposed to go to the pool that day? When the bad things happened?”
Suddenly, tears were rolling down the little girl’s cheeks. Seeming unaware of them, she nodded.
“Were you going to learn to swim?”
She shook her head.
“Brian?” Chloe’s brother had been six, a first grader.
She nodded again, her eyes shimmering with the tears that kept falling.
“Had you just not left yet?”
Another shake of the head. Trina had a helpless moment that gave her new sympathy for Detective Risvold’s frustration.
But then Chloe whispered, “Brian pooked.”
Pooked. “Puked? He was sick?”
She gave a forlorn sniff. “Uh-huh.”
“Did you see who came to your house, pumpkin?”
Chloe buried her face in Trina’s scrub top. Her whole body trembled.
Trina wrapped her in her arms and laid her cheek against the little girl’s wet head. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I’m so sorry. You don’t have to talk about it until you’re ready. I promise.”
Worried when there was no response, she used a hand towel to dry Chloe’s cheeks, had her blow her nose with a wad of toilet paper, then briskly dried her and pulled the My Little Pony nightgown she’d found in the duffel over her head. “Okay, let’s brush your hair.”
She found no hair dryer in the drawers and thought about asking Gabe if he had one in his bathroom, but then realized how pointless that would be. All he’d have to do was rub a towel over his head. He probably didn’t even bother to comb his hair.
Well, it didn’t hurt anyone to go to bed with wet hair.
She’d give a lot to have a pile of picture books to read to Chloe to give her something else to think about before she snuggled down to sleep, but she had to find another way.
So she tucked Chloe in, refrained from commenting on the thumb in her mouth, and began singing softly, starting with a lullaby. She knew the words to a couple of country-western songs, a song from Phantom of the Opera, and ended up with Christmas carols. After the first verse of “Silent Night,” she saw that Chloe’s mouth had softened and her thumb had fallen out.
Trina clicked off the lamp and had turned to slip out when she saw the big man lounging in the doorway. When she got closer to him, she couldn’t miss the smile in his eyes.
So she couldn’t carry a tune. Chloe didn’t mind.
He murmured, “Grab your duffel if it has what we’ll need in it.”
What they’d need. Alarmed by her very sexual response to that low, faintly rumbly voice, Trina took a minute to understand. Ointment. Bandages. He wasn’t suggesting whatever she’d been thinking.
Trying to regain her dignity, she detoured to pick up the bag and followed him as he backed into the hall. “My room,” he said, just as quietly, and indicated an open door.
The idea of taking off her shirt and pulling down her pants for him had seemed mildly embarrassing when they first met. Now her whole body flushed at the idea.
Seeing his big bed—it had to be king-size—didn’t help. Faced with that bed, she was only vaguely aware of bare walls, wooden floors and a couple of pieces of plain furniture.
“This going to be messy? Maybe you should lie on a towel,” he suggested, more gravel in his voice than usual. When she stayed speechless, he went into his bathroom. By the time he’d reappeared, she had set out a big package of gauze and one of several tubes of ointment a nurse had picked up at the pharmacy for her.
Gabe pulled back the covers, exposing forest green flannel sheets, and spread a huge towel for her to lie on.
She stared at it, all too conscious of him standing less than a foot away. This was the first time since she’d woken up that she’d lost all awareness of the pain.
Feeling silly, she still asked, “Um...would you mind turning your back?”
Without a word, he swung away.
Trina squirmed to get out of her scrub top. She’d been feeling the discomfort of not wearing a bra, but even if she’d had one, it would be days before she could actually stand to wear it. All but throwing herself down on his bed, she mumbled, “I’m ready.” Except for baring her butt. Well, she’d let him start at her shoulders and work his way down.
His weight depressed the mattress when he sat down at her side. While he peeled off the gauze covering, she turned her head to stare at the far wall and tried to bite back groans.
He swore. “This has to hurt like hell.”
“It does,” she mumbled.
There was a long pause. She heard him take a deep breath...and then he touched her. Stroked her.
Chapter Four
Gabe glanced over his shoulder as he scratched the blood bay gelding’s poll. “This is Mack.”
Nickering, the horse had trotted over to the paddock fence the minute he saw people approaching. Gabe was hit by a pang of guilt at the thought that the gelding was lonely. Of course he was; horses are herd animals. “Not long until you’re back with your buddies,” he murmured in one flickering ear.
Carrying Chloe, Trina joined him at the fence. “As in Mack truck?”
He smiled a little. “Yeah. For a quarter horse, he’s a giant.”
Her sidelong, appraising glance was enough to stir his body in ways that could be embarrassing.
“Kind of fits you,” she murmured.
He pulled a cube of sugar from his pocket and held it out. Mack inhaled it, his soft lips barely brushing Gabe’s hand. “Put me up on some of the horses here on the ranch, my boots would be dragging on the ground.”
Trina’s laugh lit her face. Held on her hip, the kid jumped when Mack whiffled.
“Would you like to pet him?” Gabe asked. “Mack likes everyone.”
He wasn’t sure the horse had ever met a child, but he trusted the good-natured animal not to bite.
The little girl looked doubtful but finally, tentatively, held out a tiny hand. Mack blew on it, making her giggle, then bobbed his head.
Gabe showed her how to offer a sugar cube, wrapping her hand in his so she wasn’t in any danger of having a finger mistaken for a treat to be demolished by big yellow teeth. Another giggle, this one delighted, caused a strange sensation somewhere under his breastbone. It wasn’t only Trina
who awakened unfamiliar feelings. He excused himself on the grounds that he was a natural protector. The little girl’s obvious vulnerability—and her surprising strength—spoke to him.
Bad enough letting the kid get to him. Gabe tried not to look at Trina, too sexy even in a pair of jeans from her friend’s daughter that she was still wearing instead of the slimmer-fitting ones he’d bought her. Given her burns, the loose fit was more comfortable, she’d admitted.
He hadn’t liked leaving the two of them alone yesterday, but he was confident enough that no one could find them to set out on his errands without having alerted Boyd. She’d promised to stay in the cabin and not answer the door while he was gone. Far as he could tell, she’d obeyed. He hadn’t had to worry about Chloe; she stuck close to Trina.
Didn’t mean Chloe wasn’t getting whiny by the time he returned. Three short, animated videos only had so much entertainment value. The toys and games he’d bought had filled the evening, but he’d suggested the walk this morning to head off either Trina or Chloe growing restless.
Gabe’s top priority yesterday had been to call Detective Risvold using a cheap phone he charged in his truck.
“Where the hell are they?” the detective had demanded. “Dr. Marr knows better than to disappear with the girl.”
Gabe said only, “Safe. Trina asked me to let you know.”
“That’s unacceptable!” His fury seemed over the top. “This child is a witness to a multiple homicide. Now that she’s talking, we need to have access to her. If I have to ask for a subpoena—”
“Do that,” Gabe said icily, “and this is the last time I give you an update. And just how do you intend to serve your subpoena, even assuming you can find a judge who thinks it’s fine to bully a three-year-old?”
After a significant pause, Risvold snapped, “I haven’t heard any update.”
“I’m tasked with telling you that Michael Keif was supposed to be alone that morning. The boy had a swim lesson. You can check, but chances were he’d had lessons the previous few Saturdays. That day, the mother intended to take him and Chloe. Brian got sick—puked, according to Chloe, so they made a last-minute decision not to go.”
This silence lasted longer and was, Gabe hoped, more thoughtful.
“The killer was surprised by the wife.”
“He didn’t intend to kill them,” Gabe agreed, “may actively not have wanted to, but if the husband was already down when he realized they weren’t alone in the house...”
Sounding churlish, the detective grumbled, “If she can tell us that much, she can tell us what she saw.”
“No. She broke down after telling Trina that much.”
“I have a message for Dr. Marr,” Risvold said in a hard voice. “I expect to hear from her daily. If she doesn’t show up to work Monday, I’ll have to assume she’s kidnapped the girl and may even have crossed state lines.”
The jackass was trying to intimidate the wrong man. The wrong woman, too, but Trina wasn’t here. “You might recall she has legal custody,” Gabe said curtly. “Which gives her the right and obligation to keep her foster daughter safe.”
“Every day,” the detective repeated. “I expect to see her in person, or hear her voice on the phone.”
Shaking his head, Gabe cut off the connection. Scanning his surroundings in the vast Walmart parking lot, he saw nothing of concern except a marked Bend PD car slowly moving two aisles away from his truck. Probably coincidental, but why take a chance?
He’d backed out, rolled down his window when he saw a trash can, dropped the phone in and peeled off the leather work glove he’d worn to handle it. Still watchful but relaxed, he had continued with his errands, the most painful of which had been choosing toys. New experience, he’d told himself. It didn’t take experience to steer him away from anything battery-operated that made noises.
Gabe had been both relieved and damn glad to walk in his door at the ranch, especially since woman and girl both pounced on him with open pleasure. Hair conditioner! Lip gloss! Picture books! He’d felt kinda like Santa Claus.
Now he found a smile for Chloe. “Would you like to ride Mack?”
Her eyes widened. “Me?”
“If Trina says it’s okay.” He shifted his gaze to her fine-boned face and big green-gold eyes.
She bit her lip. “Are you sure...?”
“Mack is gentle as a lamb.” He didn’t remind her how a well-trained cutting horse could move—sliding stops that would send unprepared riders sailing over his head, turns faster than seemed possible for such a big animal and blazing speed for the short distances needed to run down a breakaway steer. “I’ll put her up in front of me.”
Amusement in her eyes, she pouted. “You didn’t offer me a ride.”
The words were no sooner out than fiery color rose in her cheeks. He swallowed and tried not to think about how much he wanted to take her for a ride—preferably in his big bed upstairs. Even so, Gabe had no doubt she saw the glint in his eyes, because she turned her flaming face away to kiss the top of Chloe’s head.
“I was being considerate,” he said. Hearing the grit in his voice, he cleared his throat. “Don’t think you’re ready to be up on a horse when he breaks into a trot.”
Trina winced. “You’re right. I’m definitely not.”
Curious, he asked, “Do you know how to ride?”
“Oh, sure.” Her cheeks were still pink, but she was regaining her aplomb. “Nothing fancy, just trail riding. I have a friend whose husband has a small ranch south of town. I ride with her regularly.”
Good, he thought; in a pinch, he could throw her and Chloe up on Mack and send them cross-country while he held off any threat.
He put a bridle on the gelding to reassure Trina, even though it wasn’t necessary. Gabe could control Mack with his legs and subtle shifts of weight. Then he used the fence to mount bareback, and held out his arm. “Ready, little one?”
Chloe was clearly torn between terror and temptation. When Trina lifted her high enough for Gabe to close his hands around her waist, she froze.
“No?” he said.
Mack had been standing as still as a statue, but now he turned his head to look inquiringly. When he blew air out through his lips, Chloe gulped and said a brave, “Yes.”
The minute he settled her in front of him, she clutched fistfuls of wiry black mane. She was ridiculously tiny atop the powerfully built horse. Gabe smiled, wrapped his right arm around her and signaled Mack to walk. They circled the paddock a couple of times before he bent toward her ear. “Lope? It’s lots faster,” he warned.
“Uh-huh!”
Mack responded to Gabe’s tightened legs; after one bumpy stride the horse reached a canter, the gait slow and easy, his head low. He could have been circling a show ring.
Chloe squeaked and stiffened but quickly relaxed. By the time he slowed Mack to a walk and then to a stop at the fence right beside Trina, the little girl’s body was moving with the horse like a pro. She was a natural.
She beamed at Trina. “I like fast.”
Gabe laughed, drawing a startled look from Trina. Almost...fascinated.
He was working at locking himself down when he heard a sound that instantly sobered him. The steady beat of hooves. Even Trina swung around. If he hadn’t suspected who was coming, he’d have reached for the handgun tucked in his waistband at the small of his back, hidden by his denim overshirt.
He recognized the horse before the man. Gabe let go of his battle-readiness. His friend and partner rode toward them on a dappled gray. Gabe preferred quarter horses, but Boyd liked Arabs and Arab–quarter horse crosses. This one had to be a cross, tall and muscled enough to carry a big man, but still possessing the delicate ears and dished face that characterized Arabians.
Boyd’s eyebrows rose at the sight of Gabe on horseback holding a little girl in front of him. A girl
, he realized uncomfortably, who was wearing pink overalls and a white T-shirt that had a glittery unicorn on the front. He’d bought the damn outfit himself yesterday. Not something he’d admit to Boyd.
His friend reined his horse in and openly studied the threesome before smiling. “Gabe.” He nodded. Looked at the girl. “Hi, Chloe. I’m Boyd. A friend of Gabe’s.” Then he let his smile deepen for Trina. He had a way with women. “And you have to be Joseph’s sister.”
She smiled back. “I might take insult if you tell me I look like Joseph.”
Boyd grinned. “I’d take insult if you told me I look like Joseph.” Then he considered her, feature by feature, and admitted, “There’s something. Your eyes. Hair color. Otherwise...nope.”
“You should have told me you were coming,” Gabe interjected. He never liked surprises, and especially in the middle of a mission. Which this was, if an off-the-books one.
Boyd shrugged. “Impulse. Thought I should meet your guests.”
“We were about to have lunch,” Trina said. “You’re welcome to join us, if you’d like.”
The other man did have the grace to glance at Gabe, whose instinct was to keep even his best friend far away from Trina, but had to dip his head. They were friends, he reminded himself. There was no reason to feel territorial.
Boyd grinned, seeing right through him, and said, “Sounds good.”
While Boyd dismounted and unsaddled his horse, Gabe handed Chloe off to Trina and slid off Mack. By the time he had removed the bridle, Boyd had heaved his saddle from the horse’s back to the top rail of the fence and was leading the dappled gray through the gate. After taking off the bridle, too, he whacked his gelding on the butt, sending him into the paddock to join Mack.
The two touched noses, snorted and wandered companionably away to find a fringe of grass they could tear at.
Trina set Chloe down and said, “Lunchtime, sweetie.”
“Can I have a cookie?”
“After lunch,” Trina agreed, laughing when the kid raced toward the house.
Chloe wasn’t the only one who’d been thrilled when Trina started baking last night. Chocolate chip cookies first, followed by cinnamon rolls. Two hefty cinnamon rolls had made a great breakfast this morning. Trina, who had split one with the little girl and still not finished it, had watched him eat in astonishment.
Hide the Child Page 5
