Spencer flicks a hand through his hair nervously. "I guess she’s ready to go after all." His arm’s tugged hard again, and he works to keep his upper body straight to continue facing my direction. “Can I see you again?”
What a silly question. Like I’d say no after a kiss like that. "Sure. When?"
"Is tomorrow too soon?"
"Tomorrow? Tomorrow would be good. I'll be out of work after three."
Spencer takes a step or two toward his truck. "I'll call you then."
The cold wood of the front porch soaks through my socks while I wait for Spencer to load Frankie into his truck. He closes his door and begins to back out before I wave good-bye. Turning back to the house, ready to lock up for the night, I look down and see the gnaw marks on the edge of my wooden door. Frankie’s most recent victim to entertaining herself while she waited.
CHAPTER FIVE
"I can't believe you work at the hospital but have never been to Spuds.”
The county hospital is set between the towns of Pelican Bay and Whitecap. "During a shift, there’s only time for delivery. I'm always too tired after to eat at a sit-down restaurant.”
"Shit, I keep forgetting you finished a long shift. Are you sure you're awake enough for this meal?"
"I'm fine. Working tens is a standard. I’ve been doing it for years." His concern is cute but totally unneeded.
"Well, if you get too tired and want to head home, let me know."
"Spencer, I'm fine." I reassure him for probably the fiftieth time tonight. I’m not going to fall over and pass out from exhaustion. Maybe I should find his persistence annoying, but it’s actually nice to have someone looking after me for a change.
I haven’t had a night out on the town in forever—since my last boyfriend, Thatcher, and I broke up over a year ago. Dating an EMT who reported to the same hospital I did was difficult. When we both had the same night off, we made sure to go out and do something together. I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed it until right now.
Plus, Spuds doesn’t allow dogs, so we don’t have Frankie here to distract us. Although, I kind of miss the big, hungry baby. "Do you think Frankie is okay alone? You were at work all day, too, right?"
"She'll be fine. There is absolutely nothing left for her to eat at my apartment."
His optimism is sweet, even if a little far-fetched. His dog ate a part of my house last night.
"Jenny, the girl who runs the classes at the pet store, said I should get Frankie into one of her obedience classes."
Did she? I'm sure the perky, big-boobed blonde can't wait to get Spencer locked into a weekly date. Spencer turns his big truck onto the main road to Whitecap, and I work the zipper of my jacket up and down as intense jealousy eats up my insides. I have no reason to feel jealous over Spencer talking to Jenny, but I am.
A small—crazy—part of me wants to climb onto his lap and write my name in big black permanent marker across his forehead. It’s possible I’m more tired and delusional than I realized.
A phone rings, and I reach for mine. It’s instinct, but my screen is blank.
"You got Spencer." The truck jerks to the right as Spencer adjusts to driving with one hand. “I’m about five miles out of Pelican Bay on my way to Whitecap with Joslin.”
There's no way for me to know who he’s talking to, but it doesn't stop me from getting all excited and tingly that someone in his life knows me on a first-name basis. I guess after years of denying it, I’m one of those girls that gets giddy over stupid things like that. Since I’m crazy and all.
"Did you hear the part where I said I had Joslin with me? Where's Bennett or Sloan?"
I tap on Spencer’s shoulder to see if he needs to drop me off at home, but the move doesn't capture his attention.
"Okay. No. I know you wouldn't unless you had no other choice. I’ll head there and report back. Damn straight dinner’s on you.”
The Spencer grunts a few times and ends the call. Spencer slows the truck long enough to type in coordinates on his phone screen and then tosses it on top of the dashboard and speeds up. The truck bounces over the uneven dirt road, causing me to grab the oh-shit handle and hold on.
"Ridge received a new lead on the case we’re working and needs me to check it out. I'm apparently the only guy he has available in a twenty-mile radius."
"Do you want to take me home first? It sounds dangerous." My high-heeled shoes may have only come from target, but they're still not for tracking down criminals.
"No. No, danger at all. Ridge says the guy’s been off the radar for days now. They expect this place is vacant. I’ll pop in, walk the building, and we’ll be on our way to dinner.”
Sounds easy enough.
"It'll be a five-minute detour and then steaks and dessert are on Ridge for the inconvenience.”
Spencer turns when the GPS starts talking, and we drive for a few minutes before he turns right onto another dirt road. This one is almost invisible from the darkness that envelopes the trees this far away from civilization. The truck continues to bounce on the uneven road. My fingers tingle from the death grip I’ve maintained on the safety handle.
The robotic voice warns our destination is ahead on the right, and Spencer leans forward in his seat, his eyes scanning the road before us.
Out of the darkness, a mailbox takes shape.
"There." I point to the right side of the road and Spencer turns onto the tiny driveway without using the blinker.
Trees cover either side of the narrow and unkempt driveway. Tall grass that hasn't seen the blades of a mower grows up on the edges and spills over into the roadway. It definitely doesn't look like anyone's been here in a while.
"Are you sure this is the place?" I ask.
"This is the address Ridge gave me." The road turns to the left, and on the other side of the curve, a rickety old house comes into view. The dirt and gravel driveway end abruptly in front of a crumbling front porch. There's no evidence a car has parked anywhere in the area.
"Do you think it's safe?" Is surely doesn't look safe. An old screen door rattles and twists in the wind, whipping around the small clearing the house sits in. The grass here isn’t as long and overgrown, some evidence of manicuring in its past, unlike the area we drove past on the way in.
"Most criminals aren’t looking to make it in a Better Homes & Gardens magazine," Spencer says, reaching over and grabbing a gun out of his glove box then opening the truck. "Stay here. I'll be right back." Not giving me time to argue, he slams his door and carves a path to cabin.
Like I plan to leave the safety of the vehicle? Another gust of wind whips through the clearing, slamming the screen door against the old wooden siding of the house. Spencer freezes, and I stop breathing to watch him scan each direction around him. His footsteps are faster when he starts walking again, but I'm unable to stay so controlled. My heart beats quicker, but each breath is slow and quiet as if any potential bad guys can hear me.
There's a scrape on the truck, and I twist my body to peek out the back window, but it's only a low tree branch swinging in the breeze. Spencer reaches the front door, giving one last look back to the truck before his body disappears into the house.
The dome light in the truck turns off, bathing me in darkness. I make it another four and a half seconds before reaching over and locking the truck doors.
There's a flicker and then light shines out a large front window of the house, evidence Spencer flipped a switch and the home still has electricity. There are no gunshots or screams of horror, and I release a breath. The wind continues to batter at the trees in the dark, the one lone branch scraping and clawing off the back of the truck.
My mind fills with every single scary-movie monster I've ever seen since my first time when my cousin Letty let me watch Arachnophobia while my parents were out of town. My brain holds an encyclopedia of Big Bads that could be waiting for me in the dark.
As time goes on, they begin to feel scarier than any criminal Spencer may encounter ins
ide. Plus, he has a gun to shoot things with. The only protection I have out here are my own two hands, and they’re much better at saving people than hurting them.
There's another scratch of the back of the truck, this one accompanied by a groaning sound. Last time I checked, sticks didn't groan. There is definitely something not good waiting for me in the woods. I could take my chances sitting here in the truck, waiting to be eaten, or make a mad dash for the inside of the house where there's a big, hunky guy with a gun to protect me.
There's really no other choice.
I pick the hot guy.
It takes another minute to talk myself into it and gather all my courage—I'm not a particularly fearless person to begin with. In one uninterrupted movement, I hit the unlock button, swing open the truck door, jump out, close it behind me, and run for the front door of the house. There are three small steps leading up to the sagging front porch, and I jump over all three like I'm Superwoman clearing a tall building. Both feet land on the porch. One of the boards dips, but it doesn’t stop me.
The door bangs shut, the crack echoing in the large, mostly empty living room. I stumble and quickly catch myself from the force of no longer running. Looking up, I’m met with the view of a large, black T-shirt-covered chest.
"Holy shit, Jos. I told you to stay in the truck, not run into the house without warning. I could have shot you.” Spencer lowers his large, shiny gun but doesn’t put it away.
I should be worried. I've never stared down the barrel of a gun before, and I hope never to again, but fear of Spencer's shooting me doesn't rank anywhere on my list right now. "It’s scary out there."
He laughs, but it's really not a funny situation. "It's scary in here, too. I need to check the upstairs and then call this in. I'll be right back. Stay here." He points to a spot on the floor. I have no plans to go back outside.
I consider asking Spencer to let me tag along—an abandoned house where criminals used to hang out doesn't seem much safer than the car now that I'm in the living room alone—but Spencer makes it up the stairwell before I gather more courage. With each step, the boards creak and rumble from his weight. He reaches the top, and I continue to track his movements on the second floor by the squeaks and groans of the wood.
One minute passes, and then another. I don’t move from the little area he pointed at. I have no plans to leave my very comfortable and very safe space.
A light flickers in front of me from an open room off the living room. Probably a kitchen.
I ignore it.
Until it happens again. The light flashes, my eyes catching the change in brightness. I look up even though I don’t want to.
"Spencer," I yell, hoping he’ll hear me upstairs.
"I'll be right down." His words are muffled but easy enough to make out from upstairs and a little to my right.
The light flickers again, this time staying off longer than it had previously. There's a loud bang, like a body falling to the floor above me. I flinch and duck to the ground, ready to drop to my belly if it comes again.
"Spencer," I say, nowhere near as loudly this time.
It takes him only a second to answer. "Knocked over a chair. It's fine."
He needs to hurry up. This scene is starting to feel more and more like something from M. Night Shyamalan. The light dims. I hold my breath and wait for it to turn back on.
It doesn’t.
"Spencer?" I move a few inches off of my protected space, then stand up.The next thing I’m aware of, my legs are moving toward the kitchen without my consent. I creep to the now dark room, going slow enough for Spencer to come back and tell me I’m a moron because it’s just a kitchen, not a portal to hell. I can’t see dead people.
We’ll have a good laugh and then he’ll take me for the steak dinner he promised. I reach the area where the two rooms connect sooner than I want. Spencer still isn’t downstairs, and the light still hasn't turned back on. I stretch my neck out and squint with one eye to see better in the darkness, but it doesn't help.
A sound scurries in a dark corner to my right. "Spencer?" I whisper.
Three more steps get me to the kitchen. The light flickers, brightening the dark room. My eyes scan from wall to wall. The space is empty, nothing left behind besides the cabinets lining the outside edge.
And the dead body.
I scream, the noise ricocheting off the bare walls, turning to an echo. The horrifying sound escaping my lips continues even when I place a hand over my mouth.
The turns off again, but it's much too late, the image burned into my memory for eternity—the dark lump, slumped over, his head braced against the cabinets while his lower half sits on the ground, his feet spread out before him. With the room dark, I lose sight of the small details, but my eyes don’t leave the area where his outline stays, unmoving, as I back out of the kitchen.
My back rams into a solid surface, and two warm arms wrap around me from behind. Terrified, my heart beating out of my chest, I scream and slap at the hands. Twisting and turning, I end up chest to chest with my attacker.
"Shhhhh. I've got you."
Awfully nice words from someone who wants to kill me and add my body to the pile in the kitchen. Further evidence backs up this thought when he walks with me into the living room.
"Spencer!" I pound on his chest twice out of pure frustration. "There's a dead body in the kitchen."
He tugs me right past the living room and back out the front door. "I know, I've already called it in. You were supposed to stay in the living room."
"Should I check to make sure he's dead?" I am a nurse. While I don’t see many dead bodies, there have been a few during my time working at the hospital.
Spencer shakes his head. "He's dead."
Either he's recently deceased, or the cold temperatures have kept his body preserved. There was no telltale smell in the kitchen.
Blue and red lights circle over the front porch, casting shadows on the uneven, rotten boards. With his hand on my shoulders, Spencer guides me to the truck, opening the door and waiting for me to jump in.
"I need to talk to the Sherriff. Please stay here this time."
"No problem," I answer, widening my eyes so he can see my commitment to the statement. I have no desire to see anyone else dead tonight.
***
"Can you tell me a story?" I pull the covers of Spencer’s bedspread up around my shoulders and snuggle into the pillow, allowing his woodsy aftershave smell to surround me.
It's been a long night. After several more police cars showed up, Spencer and I both gave statements to what felt like the entire Pelican Bay Police Force. When they finally let us leave, Spencer and I were both too tired for the steak dinner he’d promised. We grabbed some drive-through and headed back to his apartment since it was close and Frankie was waiting.
Somehow, he decided I needed to spend the night and then I ended up in his bed.
Wearing one of his old T-shirts.
Under the covers. Snuggled up next to Frankie. And Spencer. I thought about putting up a fight, but no woman in her right mind would say no to sleeping with a beefy former SEAL.
Plus, it’s been a crazy day. I deserve this.
"A story? What kind?"
I think for a moment, tapping a finger to my bottom lip. "A good one."
Frankie snuggles her head against my arm until I scratch her behind the ears. She stretches out, her long legs kicking Spencer in the chest, pushing him a few millimeters away. Bad dog. "Tell me about how you found Frankie."
"You said you read the article. That’s pretty much the story. It wasn’t all that exciting. Now, how I met the guys who were at the bachelor party…that’s the story.”
My tiredness wanes with the excitement of hearing more about Spencer’s past. "Yes, then tell me that one."
“We were strangers on a plane, about halfway across the U.S. My friend Lucas and I were headed to Texas for a tattoo convention right after I left the military. Things were quiet and going wel
l when someone at the back of the plane started screaming.”
“Screaming?” I lift my head long enough to confirm and then snuggle back in.
Spencer chuckles, lost in his memory. “Obviously, it caused a commotion. Before anyone knew what was happening, the woman was lying in the walkway talking about contractions.”
“You’re kidding.” I perk up at the crazy story, but it doesn’t last long as sleep continues to tug on my consciousness.
Spencer holds two fingers to his chest. “Scouts honor. The plane was quickly turning to madness, so Lucas and I stepped in. Us and a few other guys calmed the crowd and delivered the baby.”
I yawn. “For real?”
“I promise. The mother named the baby Jacqueline and married the guy who cut the cord—the guy whose bachelor’s party we were attending. I think they received free airfare for life, too.”
That is the craziest thing I’ve ever heard. I think the words, but they don’t escape my mouth before I’m lost to a dream world of airplanes and Spencer’s babies. They’re fluffy black with big, floppy ears and tails that knock things off end tables.
CHAPTER SIX
"Are you sure about this?" Spencer hesitates at my open front door.
Frankie tugs on her leash, ready to come in, but he doesn't hand her over. "Sure!"
I may have the next three days off from the hospital, but Spencer doesn't. He's hard at work, helping to catch whoever left a dead body in the woods.
"I'm not sure how long I'll be gone." Frankie makes another jump at me and Spencer tugs her back, his face washed with concern.
"Spencer, we will be fine." I snatch the leash when his head is turned and his guard is down.
He lets go reluctantly. "I'll call tonight to give you an update."
"Go. Catch criminals." I wave him away.
I’m not going to lie, standing on my front stoop waving Spencer off while he leaves to go fight the bad guys and come home a hero is really hot. He may not be in uniform, but I totally understand why woman have a thing for guys that wear one.
Holiday Risk Page 4
