by Wendy Vella
“That’s crude.”
His smile held no humor. Suddenly he looked bigger to her, bigger and more confident. Hope wished for a few more inches on her legs right then, so she could eyeball him.
“Imagine how bad I feel.”
“Bastard.”
“Pack your things, Hope. Now.”
They stared at each other for long seconds, and it really pissed her off, that she broke first. It was only temporary, she told herself. She’d do what he wanted for now, and then when the chance presented itself she’d leave, and he wouldn’t find her.
“You want these?”
Hope turned to find a pair of pink lace panties dangling from one large finger. She snatched them off him, and stuffed them into her backpack. Just because her clothes didn’t appear girlie and labeled didn’t mean she couldn’t have the occasional lace pair of underwear when she could afford it.
“Imagine you wearing something so girlie.”
“Yeah, well at least my wardrobe doesn’t cost the same as the national deficit.”
“I like nice clothes, sue me.”
“I hope you’re aware that some of the things you buy are made in countries that pay their workers a pittance, and what’s more, they use child labor.”
“Is there any cause you don’t champion?”
“Someone’s got to care.”
“I get that, actually.”
“Sure you do,” Hope scoffed as she did up the top of her backpack.
“You don’t know anything about me, Hope, so don’t judge.”
“Ditto.”
He sighed; it was loud and long.
“Okay, you got me there. How about we call a truce?”
“Can we?”
He moved closer and took her bag, slinging it over a broad shoulder. Hope didn’t fight him. She’d bide her time, then escape when his guard was down.
“Sure, after all, I used to trade your mother’s bran muffins for my mother’s chocolate cookies, remember. We haven’t always disagreed.”
“I made those.”
“Yeah? You never told me that.”
Hope could see he was genuinely surprised. The anger had gone as quick as it came.
“I loved those muffins. I tried to get mom to make them, but she was horrified at the prospect of anything with bran in it.”
“She wouldn’t be horrified now, as it turns out.”
“True that. I miss the chocolate cookies,” he added.
“Then make some, or go buy one of Buster’s.”
“I tried, they came out flat. Buster bakes them for me now and again, when he’s in the mood, but that’s not often.”
His expression was like that of a confused little boy, but he didn’t pull it off. Buster was another friend who ran the café in Howling.
“You done?”
“I’m not coming with you on the Texan’s jet, Newman. If I want to come home, I’ll do it in my own time.”
“Actually, you are.”
“No, I’m not.”
She followed him from the room, and down through reception. She handed the girl, who was still on her phone, the keys.
“You paid?”
“I have.”
The girl then waved Hope away, and started talking into her phone again.
“That’s called service with an FU,” Newman said, waving down another cab when they reached the street outside. He bundled Hope in, and followed.
I really need to stop this from happening , Hope thought, but wasn’t entirely sure how, or why she wasn’t fighting harder to do just that.
CHAPTER SIX
“ I can’t believe someone could justify owning something like this. I mean, it has enough food stocked in that fridge to last me over a month. Seriously, Newman, you have to see this.”
“I’ve been in one of these before with Tex.”
Newman was lounging in a seat that allowed him to be horizontal. He cracked open his good eye and watched Hope investigate the interior of Tex’s uncle’s jet. She was opening cupboards and poking about on shelves like a kid in a candy store.
“This extravagance should really shock and horrify me.”
“But it doesn’t because secretly you’re impressed.”
She bent and he studied the line of her legs, and her butt.
“I’m not impressed. What impresses me is people who have small carbon footprints, and know how to minimize their waste.”
“I’m sure there’s a recycling bin in here somewhere.”
She ignored him and continued to look around. Opening the fridge again, she pulled out a bottle of water and held it up for him to inspect.
“Got any soda in there?”
“Water is better for you.” She lobbed it at him.
“You must be hell to date.”
“I haven’t had any complaints.”
“Sure you have, they’re just too scared to voice them loud enough, in case you stomp all over them in your shitkickers.”
She uncapped her water and drank deep.
“How’s the hangover?”
“Better. How’s the eye?”
“Aches like a bitch.”
“Close it then, and stop talking.”
He did, but he could still hear her moving about, until she took the seat across from him.
“I can’t believe you actually picked me up and carried me onto this jet.”
“You weren’t coming willingly, so I was compelled to use force.”
“I should really hate you about now.”
Newman opened his eye an inch. He watched her settle in the seat then lift the leg rest, and sighed.
“Comfortable?”
“And then some.”
“So I’m curious, Hope. No savings to live off from all those magazine shoots and wildlife expeditions?”
She didn’t speak.
“He take that too?”
“Some.” Her voice was small. “He took my cash.”
“And the rest of it?”
“I use the money I don’t need for good causes.”
“God save me from idiots.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that!”
“There is when you find yourself without a job, and have no money to live off.”
“I had money in a place in my room. He took it.”
“You should try a bank, Hope. They look after your money for you, so you don’t have to.”
“I just hadn’t got round to it.”
Newman raised his head to look at her, not quite believing they were actually having this conversation.
“You haven’t got a bank account?”
“Of course I have. You saw my credit card, idiot!”
“Right, I forgot about that.” Newman settled back into his seat.
“I would have been fine if you hadn’t kidnapped me.”
“You do know that because of you I’m going to get teased mercilessly about this eye when I get back to Howling,” Newman said, deciding he’d poked at her enough.
“And I should care why?”
“Heartless wench.”
“I’m not going back, Newman. I’ll stay in Brook for a bit, then start hiking around Oregon. I can see now it’s the best place for me to be, but it would have cost me too much time and money to get there. So thanks for organizing the ride.”
All he could see of her now was the soles of her boots. Like him, she was lying back.
“You have gum on your boots.”
She snorted.
“You’re coming to Howling, Hope.”
She didn’t speak again, and he closed his eyes. A nap was just what he needed before he resumed his battle with Hope, to get her back to Howling.
Newman opened his eye when someone touched his shoulder. Looking up, he saw one of the crew standing over him.
“We’ve landed, sir.”
His eyes went to the seat opposite, and saw it was empty.
“The young lady has already disembarked. She said not to wake you
until it was absolutely necessary.”
“Shit!” Newman got himself vertical. “Thanks.”
Grabbing his bag, he left the jet, ran down the steps and into the small terminal. Sprinting down the corridor, he saw Tex, aka Ethan Gelderman III, big, well-built, and, Newman had to give him, handsome. Woman certainly thought so, if the looks he was getting as he approached were any indication. Dark haired and blue eyed, he was married to Annabelle, a friend, so now he was one too. He and his brother flew tourists about in their helicopters.
“Christ, tell me the other guy looks worse?” Tex straightened as he saw Newman approach, and held out a hand. They did a chest bump.
“I’ll explain, but for now can we ditch the bitch talk, because I need to find Hope. Did you see her come through here?”
“If I knew who Hope was, I may have,” Tex said in his slow drawl.
“Blue fitted dress, black lace-up boots, long black hair, and a backpack. She’s Militant’s daughter.”
Tex flinched. Hope’s mother was not one of Howling’s most loved citizens.
“She went that way about ten minutes before you arrived.” Newman followed Tex’s finger.
“I have to find her. She’s in trouble, and is the reason I needed to get back here via your uncle’s jet.”
“Okay, well let’s start looking.”
Newman and Tex ran out of the terminal seconds later.
“Cab?”
He shook his head. “She has no money, so she’ll be on foot.”
“Left leads to town, right leads out of it.”
Newman headed right.
After an hour of searching, he knew he wasn’t about to find her anytime soon. Frustration sat heavy on his shoulders as he stood on the main street of Brook.
“I’m gonna kill you when we meet again,” Newman said softly.
Worry for her was swirling like acid in his stomach. Would she end up drunk in another bar? Would someone take advantage of her kind nature? Would he see her again?
“Fuck,” he said softly, because the word fitted how he felt.
“So what’s the deal? Is she in trouble? Sick? A longtime lover? Why are you so worked up about not finding her?”
“We grew up together. I’m not sure about the trouble aspect, but pretty sure something’s riding her. She’s got no money or job, and I found her drunk in a bar dancing on a chair.”
Tex whistled.
“And I’m pissed because it’s downright disrespectful to do a runner after I got her back here for free, and add to that I washed puke off her, bought her clothes, and any number of other things, and this is the thanks I get!”
Tex’s hands shot up in the air as Newman snarled out the last word.
“Christ, Newman. I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you truly pissed off.”
“Whatever.”
He looked up and down the street again, but knew Hope wasn’t going to appear anytime soon. She’d probably already got on a bus out of town. They’d been to the depot, but no one was willing to say if she’d bought a ticket. Some shit about privacy that didn’t impress him.
“So can we go now?”
“I guess.” He wasn’t sure why he was so worked up about not finding Hope, but he was.
“You really are worried about her, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, but then she’s lived without anyone watching her back for years. Not sure why she can’t for a while longer.”
“And that’s just plain sad if you ask me.”
He fell in beside Tex as they headed for a cab that would take them to the helicopter.
“Her mother’s Militant, bud. Can’t imagine there was a lot of caring, supportive friends and family in her life growing up.”
Tex shuddered. “True that.”
“Thanks by the way, for the flight and pickup.”
“All good, bud. Now I want to hear about the black eye, the bar thing with this Hope, and why the hell you were washing puke off her and buying her clothes.”
They took off twenty minutes later, and Newman watched Brook disappear and wondered if Hope had left already. Wondered if he’d see her again anytime soon. Wondered where she’d end up next, and how she’d survive with no money, friends, or job prospects.
When I do catch up with you, Hope, you better run.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Lake Howling, one month later
Newman took his coffee out to the seat he’d built on the edge of his property. Below was the lake, and beyond the mountain range. If he turned twenty-five degrees to the right, he’d see a forest of redwoods, and the rooftops that marked the town of Howling. It was bliss living here.
He’d had the place designed and built, and even helped when and where he could, and he loved it because it fed his soul. Hope would be pleased to hear him speak like that, but it was true. Here he got the peace he’d always craved.
His friends thought his life was a breeze, and for the most it had been. Except Newman carried a secret that he’d never told anyone. Sometimes the guilt choked him, but he’d learned to live with it.
Sipping his coffee, he looked at the house. Long and low, the front was glass and the materials natural, and the entire building looked like it had been there a lifetime. He’d wanted that. His house to be part of the landscape.
Fishing his cell phone out of his pocket as it started buzzing, he smiled as he read the caller ID.
“Yes, I’m hosting poker night, and no, I have the beer, so we’re good, Jake.”
“Ha, yeah, I’m real happy about that, bud, but that’s not actually why I’m calling.”
Newman watched as a boat left the jetty below. He recognized the two heads as belonging to Katie McBride and Cubby Hawker, the local law enforcement. When they weren’t keeping everyone safe, they were on the water.
“My eye’s fine now, Jake, seriously.”
“That’s not why I’m calling either, but you don’t want to take that kind of thing lightly, Newman.”
“We’ve had this conversation already. A month has passed, move on, Jake.”
“Any dizziness?”
“No, Jake.”
“Any nausea or vomiting?”
“No, Jake.”
“This shit is serious, Newman. It’s only been four weeks, and you had a serious shiner. You can have delayed symptoms.”
“I know, you already told me, Jake.”
“Double vision or flashes?”
“No, Mom.”
“Good, but if that changes you let me know.”
“Sure to. I’m watching your sis and her lover head out on their boat for an illicit rendezvous.”
“I just threw up a bit in my mouth, man. Don’t talk about Katie and the word lover in the same sentence.”
Newman had known mention of his sister would draw Jake off topic.
“Seriously? Her and Cubby will be married next year, and they’ll probably make babies, man. You need to get your head around that shit. You being a doctor and all.”
Newman stretched his legs out in front of him, and ignored the thought that had popped into his head while he wasn’t concentrating. Where was Hope? It had been a constant and persistent question since leaving her in Brook. He’d even struck up a conversation with her mother to see if she’d heard anything. He’d kept it casual, well, as casual as a conversation could be with that woman. She hadn’t heard from Hope in weeks, which she wasn’t happy about.
“Oh God, please don’t mention Katie and babies. She was a nightmare when she scratched herself. The thought of her in labor makes me break out in a rash.”
“Put your head between your knees,” Newman said, watching a bird glide by. “So if you’re not ringing about poker night, what do you want help with now?”
“Actually, I don’t want anything. I’m in the Hoot, and the bus from Brook just pulled up outside.”
“You eating a chicken and cheesy crust?” Buster, another friend, owned the Hoot café, and made the best pies he’d ever tasted—and h
e’d made it a mission to taste many.
“I am, and coffee. Just about to start on my chocolate and caramel muffin.”
“Damn,” Newman cursed. “I had granola.”
Jake laughed. “Anyway, your girl just got off.”
“I don’t have a girl, as you very well know, McBride.”
“Hope Lawrence.”
And just like that the lovely calm feeling he’d had upon waking in his own bed was gone. He was suddenly tense. His feet hit the ground, and he was striding back to the house seconds later.
“You sure?”
“I know who Hope Lawrence is, bud. Bad dress sense, black hair, and a serious attitude.”
“That’s the one. I’m on my way.” He pocketed his cell before Jake could say anything further, and was in his car minutes later, heading down the driveway.
Newman didn’t usually do anything at pace when he was home. He walked most places or occasionally jogged, but when he was here he tried not to stress out too much. He did that enough when he left for work. In fact, if anyone from Howling saw him out of here, they’d probably not recognize him. Everyone believed he was like this all the time, which was definitely not the case. He just hid stuff well.
He drove along the ridge, passing Katie Mc Bride and Cubby Hawker’s house, then down the road. Turning right at the bottom, he saw the turnoff to Branna, Rose, and Jake McBride’s house, then Ethan aka Tex and Annabelle Gelderman’s driveway. He liked that. Liked that if he needed the company of people he loved and respected, he’d have it in minutes, but if he didn’t, then they respected his privacy as he did theirs.
The glittering blue waters of Lake Howling sat to his left. A few boats were cruising around, and he caught sight of someone on water skis. To his right were the Redwoods that had stood sentry over Lake Howling and its residents for years.
Thoughts came and went as he drove. Where had Hope been? Was she well? Try to stay calm, Newman. Yelling would not help the situation. She was back, safe, and that was the important thing… right?
“It’s a crime in any county to strangle someone,” he reminded himself.
Driving past the residential part of Howling, where most of the locals lived who weren’t tucked-up driveways in the trees, he swung into the main street. Immaculate as always, at the early hour of 9:00 a.m., it had plenty of activity. The shops were rustic and in keeping with the whole setting of cute small town. Flowers ran up the middle of the street, and flags fluttered from the Lair, which was the sheriff’s office, and the church, which was the oldest building in Howling.
