Too overwhelmed to even react to his sympathy, I groped for a simulation of composure. “I’m okay. I just… it was just the shock…”
“Let’s go.” He wrapped a gentle arm around me and helped me rise.
“No, it’s okay, I should get started on this mess.”
“No, you shouldn’t.” He steered me firmly toward the door. “You’re coming home with me.”
“The freezer…”
He strode across to close its lid, his boots crunching over shards of glass. “There. The rest will keep.”
Despite my ineffectual protests, he guided me out the door, gently pried the keys out of my still-clenched hand, and locked up. The last of my will deserted me, and I let him walk me to his truck and help me into the seat in silence.
At the end of my lane, he got out to close the gate behind us. When his door admitted a blast of cold air, my brain ground into a forward gear again.
“I can’t leave,” I said as he got back behind the wheel. “Arnie’s on his way.”
Tom reached across to extract my phone from the pocket of my waist pouch and press it into my shaking hand. “Call him and tell him to come to my place instead.”
“No, I…”
“Yes. Do it.” His voice was kind but firm, and I surrendered and dialled, too spent to argue.
Numbness descended while I huddled in the seat, watching the beautiful, deadly ground-drift sculpting the snow into pointed fingers across the road. Tom’s heavy dual-wheeled truck forged through the drifts, their delicate appearance belied by the solid bump when we struck them.
“Sorry?” I roused myself when I realized Tom had asked me a question.
He turned down his lane, wallowing through the snow at the corner. “I said, I saw your truck go by earlier, so I knew you were home. I tried to call you but it just rang and rang.”
“Yeah...” The lights of his farmhouse looked warm and safe when we pulled up in front. “I guess they must have broken the phone. I didn’t hear anything.” A shudder shook me.
He nodded and shut off the ignition, sliding out to stride around to the passenger side and open the door for me.
When he unlocked his front door and ushered me in, the tidy hominess struck at my heart like a physical blow. I stumbled, and in an instant his hand was strong under my elbow.
“Sit down for a minute.” He swivelled me onto a wooden bench beside the door and I sat, breathing slowly to hold my emotions in check. When he knelt in front of me to unlace my boots, embarrassment restored some of my energy.
For chrissake, suck it up. Surely I didn’t need to be rescued and comforted like a child just because my house was a mess.
“Thanks, Tom, I can manage.” I bent to undo the other one, but my shaking fingers tangled the laces.
His warm hands nudged my cold ones out of the way. “I’ll get these. Take off your coat.”
I slid reluctantly out of my jacket, trying to hold my shivering in check.
He rose. “Come and sit by the fireplace.”
Mustering all my energy, I managed to pry myself off the bench. I sank gratefully onto the sofa, and he shook out a fleece blanket that had been folded across the opposite chair and settled it over me. Reaching for the stack of split logs beside the fireplace, he laid a couple more on the fire before turning to smile down at me.
“I’ll get you some tea. You like herbal in the evening, don’t you?”
“No, it’s okay, don’t bother. I’ll be warm in a minute.”
“It’s no bother. And you need it.” He strode away, and in a few moments I heard running water and clinking crockery from the direction of the kitchen.
Wrapping my arms around myself, I huddled under the blanket and diverted my mind by taking stock of Tom’s living room.
It suited him.
The floors were dark-stained planks, the walls panelled in a lighter shade of wood that made the room feel cozy and rustic with the rough stone of the fireplace. A bright Navajo-patterned rug warmed the floor between the sofa and two deep chairs upholstered in what looked like dark brown denim. Stacks of books occupied the table in the corner, a mix of hardcovers, paperbacks, and what looked like textbooks.
The pleasant tang of woodsmoke scented the air, and I drew a deep breath, easing tension from my shoulders.
Tom arrived with a steaming mug a few minutes later, and I extricated both hands from the blanket to accept it, hoping my tremors wouldn’t spill it.
He tucked the blanket back over my shoulders. “I hope you like chamomile.”
“Thanks, I love it.” I inhaled the steam and forced a smile. “This smells so good.”
He returned my smile. “My mom grows it, so this is the summer’s crop.”
“Oh, I didn’t know you could grow it here. I’ll have to try it…” I broke off at the sound of a muffled thump from outside. “That’s probably Arnie.”
Tom headed for the door and I took a nervous sip of the tea, hoping there wouldn’t be fireworks. Tom hadn’t gotten a good impression of Hellhound in his badass biker’s leathers when they’d first met in the summer, and I was pretty sure Hellhound hadn’t appreciated being held at the business end of Tom’s shotgun a few weeks ago.
Only a few weeks ago. It felt like a lifetime.
I tensed at the sound of the door opening.
“Come on in.” Tom’s tone was cordial, and I turned to crane my neck over the back of the sofa as Hellhound stepped inside, looking wary.
His face brightened when he spotted me. “Hey, darlin’.” He shed his boots and parka and turned to Tom. “Thanks for not meetin’ me with the shotgun this time.”
Tom laughed. “Thanks for not giving me a reason to. Go on in. Do you want coffee?”
“Yeah, thanks.” Hellhound hesitated. “Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the invite, but what’s the occasion?”
Tom stopped halfway to the kitchen, frowning. “You don’t know?”
Hellhound matched his frown. “Know what?” He shot me a look. “What’m I s’posed to know?”
“Sorry, Arnie.” I gave him an apologetic grimace. “My house got broken into over the weekend. I had forgotten about it until I walked in.”
“Ya forgot? Jesus, Aydan…”
“It’s a disaster zone…” My voice broke at the memory, and I turned away, swallowing hard and pretending to sip my tea.
“Aw, darlin’.” A moment later, he sank onto the sofa beside me, and I put my mug aside to burrow into his arms.
Okay, so maybe I needed a little comforting after all.
He held me close, stroking my hair. “How bad? Did ya see it?” he asked, raising his voice in the direction of the kitchen. Hiding my face in his chest, I huddled closer, letting Tom answer.
“Bad. Looks like they dumped everything out of the kitchen cupboards and the fridge and freezer.”
At the sound of Tom’s approaching voice, I pulled away and sat up, reaching for my mug.
“Black okay?” Tom asked, handing Arnie a mug. At Arnie’s nod, Tom settled into the chair opposite us cradling his own mug, and I inhaled the pleasant coffee scent while they sipped.
“Broken glass and rotten food everywhere,” Tom added. “The fridge is probably done for.” He turned to me. “Did you look through the rest of the house?”
“No. I just walked in the front door…” I shut up and hid my face in my mug.
Arnie’s arm tightened around my shoulders. “Don’t worry, darlin’, I’ll finish my coffee an’ then head over an’ start straightenin’ up.”
“Have you eaten? You’re welcome to stay for supper,” Tom offered. He smiled at me. “That’s why I was calling you in the first place. I made a big pot of chili and I was looking for help to eat it.” He turned to Arnie. “There’s lots.”
A grin spread across Arnie’s face. “Well, hell, I never turn down chili. Thanks.”
We made stilted small talk while we gobbled Tom’s excellent chili, Hellhound feigning interest in Tom’s horses while Tom feigned interest in He
llhound’s Harley. When those topics were exhausted, Hellhound turned to me.
“So when did they break in?” His eyes added the unspoken question, ‘And what about the surveillance cameras’, but I stuck to the stated topic. Tom didn’t know about the cameras.
“Friday night or Saturday morning. The police called me in Vegas to tell me.”
Tom smiled. “It must have been a good trip to make you forget about bad news like that.”
“Not really. I just had worse things to worry about.”
Concern wrinkled his forehead. “That doesn’t sound good. What happened?”
“Do you remember Dave Shore? The guy who was with us when you, um…” I bit off the words ‘held us up with your shotgun’ and substituted, “…met us down by the creek a few weeks ago.” After all, Tom had only been trying to protect me.
Remembrance lightened his frown. “Yes. How is he? Did he get that chest pain checked out?”
“Yes, it was just a muscle spasm, thank God. Anyway, my friend Nichele…”
“The one who was kidnapped,” Tom put in, nodding.
“Yes. She was in Vegas with me. She’s dating Dave now. He has his own trucking business, and she was afraid something had happened to him because she knew he was on the road but he wasn’t answering his phone. There was a big kafuffle and a lot of drama over nothing and in the end everybody was fine, but I completely forgot about my house.”
Tom reached over to squeeze my hand. “You just can’t win for losing, can you?”
“Not lately. But at least everybody was okay.”
Arnie scraped the last of the chili out of his bowl and rose. “Thanks, that was great, but I wanna get started on Aydan’s place. Hope ya don’t mind if I eat an’ run.”
Tom stood, too. “No, of course not.”
“Hang on, I’ll get my coat,” I said, trailing Arnie toward the door.
He shot a glance at Tom before returning his attention to me. “Nah, stay here, darlin’. If it’s as bad as ya say, lemme do the rough stuff first.”
“No, it’s no big deal. I’ll come.”
He dropped a kiss on my forehead. “You’re still shakin’. Ya better stay here an’ take it easy for a bit.”
“He’s right,” Tom said from behind me. “Just stay here and rest. You can both stay the night here, and tomorrow we can all work on it.”
“Good, thanks,” Arnie agreed, slinging on his parka. “Gimme your key, darlin’.”
“It’s on the bench over there.” Tom spoke over my protest. Arnie collected the key and slipped out, leaving me alone with Tom’s smile.
“You’ve been overruled.” His eyes crinkled into weathered laugh lines. “Go sit by the fire and I’ll bring you a beer.”
I surrendered gracefully. “You just said the magic words.”
A couple of beers and some easy conversation later, my eyelids drooped as if my eyelashes had been dipped in concrete. I smothered the latest of many yawns. “I’d better call Arnie and see how it’s going.”
“Hold on, I’ll get you the phone.” Tom forestalled my half-hearted attempt to rise by springing up, and I subsided on the couch, feeling faintly guilty. But not guilty enough to get up.
Another cavernous yawn seized me as he returned, holding out the handset.
Arnie assured me that the cleanup was going well, but when I asked how much longer he’d be, his voice took on a cautious note.
“Think I’ll stay here tonight.”
I sat up, anxiety nibbling at me. “Why, what’s wrong?”
“Nothin’.” He hesitated. “It’s a guy thing.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Territory, darlin’. Tell Tom I said thanks but no thanks. Bet ya ten bucks he looks happy.”
I laughed. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Nah. See ya in the mornin’. G’night.”
“Um… good night...” I hung up, not sure whether to frown or smile.
“Is everything okay?” Tom leaned forward, searching my face.
“Everything’s fine. He just said he was going to have a late night, so he’ll stay there. He said to tell you thanks anyway.”
Tom settled back in his chair. “There was no need for him to do that. He could have stayed here.”
But I was going to have to shell out ten bucks. He did look happy.
I set aside my empty beer bottle regretfully. “I’d better go, too. My suitcase is still sitting in my kitchen and all my things are at… home…” The last word ended on a bit of a gulp as I considered what condition the rest of my things might be in.
Tom leaned forward to take my hand. “You don’t need to face that tonight. Who knows if you even have a bed to sleep in. I’ll run over and get your suitcase, but you should stay here tonight.”
“No, Tom, that’s too much trouble…”
He gave me his attractive crooked smile. “It’s only a mile. And it’s no more trouble for me to go over and pick up your suitcase than it would be for me to drive you over there if you were going home.”
“Oh. Uh…” I groped through a haze of beer and fatigue with the feeling I was missing some key point in the argument, but I failed to discover any useful rebuttal.
I abandoned the effort. “Thanks. Don’t bother about the suitcase, then. I don’t need it if you’ve got a spare toothbrush.”
“No problem.” He rose. “Can I get you another beer?”
Another yawn caught me unaware. By the time I’d finished exposing my tonsils, I knew I was done. “No, thanks. If it’s okay with you, I think I’d rather call it a night.”
After a short flurry of towel and washcloth and toothbrush and extra blankets, I found myself installed in a tidy guest bedroom, holding a pajama top Tom had earnestly assured me he’d never worn.
As if I’d care. I was so exhausted, he could have handed me a potato sack and I wouldn’t have known the difference.
When I slipped it on, a whiff of his clean-cotton outdoorsy scent made me reconsider. Okay, so I did know the difference.
I curled between the cold sheets, shivering, and pulled the pajama top closer to my nose.
I couldn’t sleep.
Of course.
Vibrating with bone-weary tension, I lay listening to the night noises. The front door opened and closed quietly as Tom headed out to do his evening chores. Some time later, I heard the door again when he returned. Then soft movements from the main part of the house, followed by running water from the bathroom and the closing of his bedroom door.
Then silence broken only by the soft grumble of the furnace and the creaks of a sleeping house.
Dammit, I should have gotten him to take me home. Even if we’d had to sleep on the floor, a night that started with Hellhound always ended with total relaxation and a good sleep.
Trying to calm myself, I imagined the feel of Arnie’s warm bulk beside me, the comforting weight of his arm around me.
Just relax.
Go to sleep, for chrissake.
I knew it was a nightmare even while I fought the tightening walls of my prison. Helpless to prevent the screams that ripped my throat, I battered my body against the shrinking space. The profound blackness flowed into my mouth, choking me…
“Aydan! Aydan! What’s wrong?”
I jerked up in bed, flinging my arms out to fend off the blinding light. As reality dissolved the dream, I realized I was still keening brokenly, and I smothered the sound when Tom spoke again.
“It was just a dream, Aydan. You’re safe. Just a dream.” His voice was softer now, and he beamed the flashlight at the floor as he came around to the side of the bed. “I’m Tom Rossburn. You’re at my house. You’re safe.” He stooped to look into my face. “You were having a nightmare. Do you know where you are now?”
“Shit.” I pawed my tangled hair away from my face, resisting the urge to hide under the pillow from sheer humiliation. “Tom, I’m so sorry. I’m fine. Go back to bed. I promise I won’t do that again.”
Because I’d damn well stay up for the rest of the night. Poor guy, I should have warned him… No, dammit, I should have insisted on going home. Idiot.
I peered up at him in the reflected glow of the flashlight. “I’m really sorry.”
“It’s okay.” He smoothed my hair. “I’m not surprised you’re having nightmares after what you’ve been through. Go back to sleep. I’ll sit with you.”
“No, I’m fine, really.”
Now I knew the reason for the superfluous pajama top. He wore only the bottoms, and I couldn’t help admiring his chest and shoulders, the sinewy muscles defined even in the dim light.
Before my gaze could linger embarrassingly, he clicked off the flashlight. “Lie down.” His gentle hand pressed me back on the pillow. “Just relax.” He tucked the blankets around my shoulders. “You’re safe. I’m here, and I’ll watch over you. Go to sleep.”
“I can’t sleep while somebody’s watching me. Thanks anyway.”
He hesitated for a moment as if trying to decide whether to insist. “Okay. Good night.”
“Good night. Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” He moved away into the darkness and I rolled over, willing myself to stay awake.
I woke without opening my eyes, my cheek pressed against the warmth of Hellhound’s chest, the safety of his arm encircling me. I sighed contentment and slid my hand over his hard muscles, sleepily tracing a line of kisses over his chest and up his neck to…
…morning stubble?
My eyes flew open and I peered through the semi-darkness at Tom.
Chapter 25
“Shit!” I bounded out of bed and spun to face Tom’s expression of consternation. “Shit, Tom, I-”
“I’m sorry Aydan, it’s not what it looks like…” He scrambled off the bed.
On top of the covers. Still wearing his pajama bottoms. Thank God.
“No, shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-” I gabbled, tugging at the hem of the pajama top to make sure it was where it belonged.
My babble was overridden by Tom’s anxious voice. “I’m sorry, Aydan, you kept having nightmares and I was sitting with you a while, I must have fallen asleep…”
A Spy For a Spy Page 18
