by Lyz Kelley
“If you say so.”
She tried to quell the thump-thump-thump of her heart in her ears. “Did my father send you to find me?”
“Interesting question.” A kick sent the nearest stack of plastic bins sliding across the floor. “Looks like you’ve created a mess.” Amusement quirked his mouth and stripped away any semblance of compassion.
She crossed her arms so he couldn’t see her hands shake. “You did this, didn’t you?”
“Babe, I didn’t touch this place. I came to find you and do a little business.”
Drugs, of course. But why Elkridge? Denver maybe, but Elkridge?
“I suppose it wouldn’t do any good to ask you not to tell my parents where I am.” Her voice quivered. She fought for a full breath of air.
Shane pulled a hardback book from the shelf next to the door and looked at the spine. “Ayn Rand. ‘Who is John Galt?’ Seems ironic, doesn’t it?”
You bastard. You have no idea what living with my parents was like. I’m leaving their lifestyle behind, not giving it up. “I’ll ask you again, Shane. Why are you here?”
“Money.” He rubbed his thumb back and forth against his fingers. “It’s all about the green, princess.”
The cash register was less than a foot away, but Shane wasn’t talking about chump change. She dragged in a lungful of gritty resolve.
“Do you think I’d be living like this if I still had money?” She pushed up her sleeves, forcing an outward calm she didn’t feel.
“Nice try, sweetness. I saw the bank statements. Your dad’s not very good at choosing his passwords. All that money just sitting in a bank account, earning interest, month after month, and you refusing to spend a dime.” His nostrils flared. “Such a shame.”
“It’s blood money.” A tang of bitterness soured her mouth at the thought of how her grandfather accumulated his wealth, and how her father carried on the tradition.
“Money is money. It spends the same.” Shane took another step closer.
“Is there something I can help you with?”
Shane paused, and Gwen turned with a snap toward Dale.
The general appeared relaxed, casually lounging against one of the clothes racks with an air of indifference. She knew better.
The corner of Shane’s lip lifted with disgust over Dale’s worn jeans and navy blue shirt. “Keep out of this, old man.”
Dale didn’t flinch or sigh or smirk. He stood deathly quiet, an immovable statue. A person could have passed him by without being any wiser.
Shane’s smug, glittering eyes swung back to her. “I came to collect. You owe me.”
Her eyes flicked to Dale. He’d moved—silently—circling to Shane’s left. She needed to hold Shane’s attention. “I don’t owe you anything. If you want a raise, ask my father.”
“Why would I do that when you’re so much easier to work with?” Shane licked his lips. “Give me my fifty percent, and I’ll walk away.”
Shane’s eye’s narrowed. She’d seen that look before. The one he got just before using a backhand or fist to get what he wanted.
Gwen slowly reached under the counter, feeling for the duct tape holding the leather holster. Finding the grip, she wrapped her hand around her Glock 9mm. Lifting the gun with her right hand, she pulled back on the slide with her left to pop a bullet in the chamber as quietly as possible, then laid the gun on the counter, her hand still pressed against the cold metal. “I said no.”
Shane’s eyes opened a bit wider before a lazy grin stretched across his face. “Playing with guns is dangerous.”
Her finger tapped the steel. “Only if you don’t know how to use one.”
“You really going to shoot me, princess?”
“If I have to, yes.”
“Now, princess. Come on. Let’s be reasonable.”
“Reasonable?” She forced a dry swallow. “I know you, Shane. You’ll keep coming back like a bad cold. You forget. I still have that video. Anything happens to me, anything at all, and the tape will be sent to the authorities. So for the last time, leave me alone.”
Shane’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He raised his hands, palms out, rental keys clutched in one hand. “Whatever you say, princess.” He moved back toward the door slowly, and then bumped into a clothes rack, dropping his keys.
Dale moved forward at the same moment she shouted, “Don’t! Don’t reach for that gun, or you’ll force me to use this weapon. Don’t do it, Shane. Don’t be stupid.”
She wasn’t sure what Dale was going to do with the hanger in his hand, but his menacing expression gave the impression that Shane, a dozen years younger and head of her father’s security, wouldn’t stand a chance against the general.
“Princess, I know you wouldn’t shoot me. You don’t like blood. Plus, you don’t like to get your hands dirty.”
“I wouldn’t take that bet, pal.” Dale held up his cellphone, showing a connected call. “You have less than a minute before the sheriff arrives. If I were you, I’d be gone by the time the deputies get here.”
Shane pointed at her. “We’re not through.” He was gone before she released her breath.
She braced herself with her hands on the counter, her head dropping forward.
Think. She tapped her finger on the counter, then started pacing back and forth. Get cash. Fill the car with gas. Pack a bag. No. Just leave. Leave now.
“Gwen?” Dale hooked the hanger back on the rack and moved toward her.
They can’t hurt me. My parents can’t hurt me. Not anymore.
“Gwen? What just happened?” He picked up the gun, released the cartridge, popped the bullet from the chamber, and set the gun parts back on the counter.
She pressed the cash register button, opening the drawer, pulling a stack of twenties from the till. Counting the money, she yanked her arm back when a warm hand on her wrist drew her attention.
Gwen noted Dale’s concern, then looked at the gun, before she dropped her guard. “I don’t suppose with the sheriff arriving any minute we could keep this quiet?”
“Your choice.” He lifted his phone. “I called my house. But calling the sheriff might be a good idea. What’s the story with that guy?” He glanced at the door.
“The word ‘no’ isn’t in his vocabulary. That’s his problem.” She drew a shaky breath. “I need to start packing. I might be able to sneak out of town before he even knows I’m gone.”
“I assume this isn’t the first time you’ve had to pack and leave.” He took a step closer, his eyes assessing. His expression relaxed. “From the look on your face, I’d bet you’re tired of running.”
Running. Looking over my shoulder every second. Waiting to hear that voice.
“You’re right. I’ve moved more times than I can remember. I thought for once, if I was very careful, he wouldn’t find me. I’m sorry you got pulled into this, but I’ll deal with it. I always have.”
“And I’m sure you’re more than capable, but haven’t you had enough?”
The simple question caused an explosion of possible responses, dashing fast and furious in multiple directions, to the point where she required some clarity. “No disrespect, but you don’t know what I’m dealing with.”
“Your day didn’t start off so well, but running never works. I’ve known people who’ve tried. You either end up dead or hitting bottom and fighting to get your life back.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
“Ask yourself this. Is that guy worth leaving the life you created here? My daughter considers you one of her best friends. There are other people here who would probably say the same.” He shifted uneasily, his face a fireworks display of emotions. “Maybe I’m selfish, but I’d like you to stay.”
“Why? Why do you care?” A whisper of hope surrounded and embraced the question.
He lifted a strand of her hair and let it fall through his fingers. “Oh, I don’t know,” he murmured so softly she could barely hear him. “There aren’t many pretty women in town, and you�
��re easy on the eyes.”
Oh, no, I can’t go there. Even if you are a mighty fine specimen of the male population, you’re Ashley’s dad.
His lopsided grin, the one that made her heart do the cha-cha every time she saw him, gave her pause. “I don’t like bullies. Never have.”
“Shane is more like a snake. He can slither in and strike before you even know he’s there.”
“This isn’t the first time he’s found you, is it?”
She picked up a strand of thread and circled it around her finger, then unraveled it again. “No, it’s not.”
“Which means he’ll probably find you again. But if you stay, there are people here who are willing and able to help protect you.”
She put trembling fingers to her forehead to push on a calming acupressure point. “I’ve been so careful. I changed my name. I haven’t accessed my bank accounts. I haven’t made any phone calls to former friends.” She paused, her mouth going dry. “You don’t need to hear every little detail of my troubles.”
Dale reached for her hand, rubbing his callused thumb across her skin. “It’s good you told someone, and I’m glad it was me.”
Her lips parted to surrender her gratitude, then stopped. She couldn’t—no, wouldn’t—allow him to get mixed up in her family mess. He didn’t know her father, or what he would be up against. She pulled her hand back. “I need to go. You shouldn’t get involved.”
“Why? Because there might be danger?” He let a small chuckle slip out. “I’ve walked around with a target on my back for years. Even when I try hard, I’ve never been able to avoid trouble.”
Gwen picked up the single bullet and loaded it back into the cartridge.
She hated violence, hated the shady side of her parents’ glamorous life, the tax fraud and the under-the-counter investment deals they pretended didn’t exist. Then there was her father’s connection to the Chicago mob.
That’s why she loved Elkridge.
This quaint little town was nothing like Chicago. There weren’t any private schools or five-star restaurants or daily shootings. The best entertainment could be found at the local pub or hanging out in the café on Saturday mornings. And she’d grown very attached to so many people in the community. Thoughts of leaving made her feel lost. Alone. With no way to find the path home.
“Honestly, I don’t want to leave.” She pulled in her arms and wrapped them around her waist. “But my personal life’s a mess. My business is in ruins. I wouldn’t know where to start, even if I wanted to rebuild.”
“Tell you what.” Dale leaned even closer, maybe too close, making her heart sigh with a delightful sweetness. “It’s not a good idea for you to go directly back to your house. Shane might follow you, and I wouldn’t want you to take the risk. Why don’t you come over tonight? If he follows, we’ll let the sheriff handle him. Ashley and Chase will be home, and if the four of us put our heads together, we should be able to figure something out.”
He was so confident. Humble. Generous. Oh, no.
“If anything ever happened to Ashley or her baby…I just can’t take the risk.”
“Chase and I can take care of Ashley. You have nothing to worry about.”
Hope spread limb to limb, a hope she hadn’t felt in a very long time.
“I don’t want to impose,” she managed to say without fidgeting or licking her lips to douse her angst.
Dale waved off her statement. “It’s not an imposition, unless you aren’t the kind of woman who’s up for a hearty bowl of venison stew and homemade cornbread. Ashley’s, not mine.”
Saliva pooled in her mouth as she remembered the last time Ashley had brought her leftovers. “Oh. Cornbread sounds scrumptious. Are you sure you don’t mind?”
He stepped closer, the heat of his breath caressing her skin, his gaze soft, almost heated. “In fact, I’d like to insist.” He pointed at the gun on the counter. “You also might consider getting a restraining order. It’ll help if you ever have a good reason to use that Glock.”
“I hate guns. I hate feeling the need to own one. But you’re right. Maybe I need to speak to the sheriff. Joe loves this town like I do, and Shane can be rather nasty. However, I wouldn’t want anyone getting hurt because of me.”
“Keeping people safe is what both Joe and I have trained for. Don’t worry about us.” Dale’s fingers tap-tapped on the counter. “I’m assuming you have a permit.”
“Unfortunately, yes. I’ve got my paperwork, and I practiced until I could consistently hit a target at twenty yards.”
A human, now that’s a different story.
When Shane asked if she would shoot him, she had no idea if she could pull the trigger, even to save her life. “I’ve taken self-defense classes, but I’ll admit I’m a little rusty. Elkridge is so beautiful, I didn’t think anything bad could happen here.”
“How about we make sure it doesn’t?”
His reassuring confidence was like a dip in the Spring River, a cold beer, and the warmth of a campfire underneath the starlit night. “Sounds like a plan.”
“I’d be happy to run through some moves with you after dinner, and there is a place at the back of my property where we can fire off a few rounds tomorrow.”
“You sure you want to get involved in this?”
’Cause if anything happens to you, I’ll never forgive myself.
“I’m not sure what ‘this’ is yet, but it can’t be worse than waiting for a suicide bomber to take out an entire platoon.” His mouth slowly curled up at the corners, and his teasing nature ignited the humor in his eyes.
Bile burned in her chest just thinking about her parents and Shane. “Well, my family’s business is no war zone, but if the feds had the evidence, my parents would be spending a good chunk of their retirement in jail.”
Chapter Three
The laughter in the kitchen reminded Dale of Ashley, her pigtails bouncing, her little face looking up at him, her smile bright as the sun, dancing the Macarena.
She must have been six at the time.
He missed those small yet significant magical sounds in his life. He had regrets, yet relished this moment—the large, round, oak kitchen table littered with the remains of a fabulous meal, a baby monitor in the center of the table, a protective dog sleeping at Ashley’s feet. Chase and Gwen were poking fun at each other while Ashley snickered.
What a glorious sight. Simple. Wasn’t that what Gwen wanted?
Ashley stood and picked up her bowl and side plate.
“Here, let me get those.” Dale lifted the dishes out of his daughter’s hands. “You sit. Relax. Gwen needs us to come up with ideas for how to get her business back on track. This town needs her.”
“I agree,” his daughter said emphatically. “I’m sure we can come up with something.”
“I have an idea,” Chase offered, focusing in the distance like an idea was developing. “It’s a bit unconventional, but it might work.”
Dale put a stack of dishes in the sink and returned to gather up more. “No ideas are out of order. Let’s hear it.”
Chase braced his forearms on the table. “I saw a TV show about buying and flipping houses. Last week, Erik Sparks told me about a place that will be listed soon. On the corner of Birch and Bridge.”
Gwen gasped. “Is that the cute little redbrick house with the big porch out front and the white swing?”
“That’s the one, but it’s not so little. There are three bedrooms and a large shed out back for storage, and it sits on a nice-sized lot,” Chase added. “It wouldn’t do for a residential property. There’s too much traffic, and it’s squeezed in between the gas station and daycare center, but I bet the property would be perfect for a thrift store.”
“A house?” Ashley picked up the baby monitor and adjusted the sound. “That would be weird.”
“Not necessarily,” Chase countered. “On the East Coast, there are all sorts of businesses in old residential houses. Dentists. Law offices. Hair salons.”
“He’s right.” Dale looked up after fitting a pot in the dishwasher. “We’d have to be sure the property can be rezoned commercial, and make sure the floor plan suits a business, or can be renovated so it does.”
“Then there’s the matter of funding.” Gwen bit her lower lip while deep in thought.
Interesting. Shane had mentioned something about bank accounts. Did she have money or not? Then again, it was none of his business.
“I’ve been in that house. The kitchen is rather small.” Dale reached over Ashley’s shoulder to grab the cornbread pan.
“Yep. Erik said the master bedroom’s on the main floor, and there are two rooms above.”
“Sounds like there’s a possibility we could fully open up the main floor, except for the kitchen, and leave the upper bedrooms for Gwen’s office and living space. That way she could combine her business and home expenses. The ten-second commute would be nice.”
The sparkle in Gwen’s eyes, the one he saw when she was teasing Ashley or playing with his granddaughter, had returned. He liked the resulting glow that softened the lines surrounding her mouth and deepened them around her eyes.
Maybe he liked the effect too much. Staring at her full lips or slender neck or hazel eyes couldn’t be good for his plan to stay neutral, not take control. He was here to help his daughter, to be there for her. If that meant never falling in love again, that’s what he’d do. He pulled off a strip of plastic wrap to store the leftovers.
“I only have a couple of months left on my rental agreement,” Gwen leaned back in the chair, “so the timing works.” The excitement in her voice increased the odds that Dale’s prediction of whether she’d stay was right. “With what I would save on housing, and the contract buyout monies Randall Clairemont will pay, I might have a big enough down payment to make an offer. How long do you think the renovations would take?”
Chase tapped his fingers on the table for a full minute or two. “Without seeing the inside, and assuming there are no structural problems, I’m estimating no more than a month.”
