I'll Be There

by Deborah Grace Staley

  “Right, but what if like we discussed earlier, there’s someone on the inside?”

  “I’ll be right outside all night, and you’ll be inside. If they get in, they’ll have to go through us. No one is getting past me, and I know you won’t let anyone get by you.” Grady put his hat back on. “So, relax. Doc Prescott’ll be by in the morning to check Jenny out. The TBI will also be here. They’ll likely want to speak with Jenny.”

  Cord grunted, still clearly not happy.

  “Jenny? Are you all right?”

  “Yes, I’m fine.” She hadn’t felt safer since this ordeal had begun. “Thank you for everything, Grady.”

  “You’re welcome.” Grady opened the door. “Y’all have a good night.”

  Frannie Thompson swiped at the tears. Visibility was bad enough without her blubbering. Staying at Jenny’s house, instead of feeling comforted, she’d felt closed in by her things, claustrophobic. She missed Jenny so much, she just wanted her back. How could she go through life knowing she was out there somewhere all alone?

  A sign up ahead glowed in the darkness through the snow. Frannie slowed and pulled over. “Jimmy’s Bar.” Perfect. She could use a drink. In fact, getting smashed held great appeal at the moment. Anything to not feel for awhile.

  The windowless metal door swung inward. The interior was dark and sparsely populated which suited Frannie fine. She sat at the bar. A thin man with a face that said it had seen more than he’d care to recount asked, “What’ll you have?”

  “Jack and Coke.”

  The man turned away to get her drink. Frannie put her purse on the bar and the folder the lawyer had given her slid out. The words “Last Will and Testament of Violet Jennings Thompson” glared at her. What a lie she was living. When the man had heard she was in town, he’d hiked through the snow to Jenny’s house to bring it to her, instructing her on the probate process she wouldn’t be able to begin. Another thing she’d have to discuss with the sheriff when the weather cleared. How was she supposed to deal with all this when she was still grieving for her sister?

  She shoved the file back into her bag and shrugged out of her coat. Before she could unwind the long, green scarf her sister had gotten her for her birthday, her last birthday they’d ever spend together, the man returned with her drink then went back to watching the basketball game on the television that sat in the corner of the long, narrow room. No conversation. That suited her, too.

  She tossed the dark straw on the wooden bar and disposed of half the beverage in one, long swallow. A man sitting four chairs down from her watched. She didn’t much care; let him look. The initial burn of the whiskey was spreading a delicious warmth through her chest and lower. She downed the rest and her fingertips started to tingle. She set the heavy tumbler down with a satisfying thud. “Another.” Screw the niceties. Her sister had been taken from her. There was no room for nice in her world.

  The man took the glass and made her another. The other lone customer was still looking at her, so she turned to look back intending to say, “What?” but when she met his gaze, she stopped short. From the glassy look in his clear gray eyes, she’d say he’d had a few himself. He lifted his glass, took a drink, and hunkered down, forearms on the bar, his focus returned to the liquid in his glass.

  At some point during the silent exchange, the bartender had brought her drink—minus the straw—and disappeared. He’d also left a bowl of pretzels. Her gaze swung back to the man with the empty eyes, but he’d forgotten about her and returned to his own personal hell. She wondered what was going on at home that prevented him from getting drunk there. Maybe he was from out of town like her. She chuckled and took another drink. She couldn’t imagine why anyone would be traveling the back roads of East Tennessee in a blizzard.

  He swung his gaze to hers. She looked back. He was good looking, in a disheveled, dark-whiskered, shaggy-hair-that-needed-a-trim sort of way. It fell in waves around his face. He shoved a hand into the mass and pushed it back toward his crown. He stood, stumbled, then found his balance and moved her way. She looked away and took another long draw on her drink, not sure she wanted company but nevertheless intrigued by the dark stranger whose high-end, designer clothing said he didn’t fit in a dive like this. She chuckled again. She supposed she looked like she didn’t fit either, but the selection of bars in the heart of the Bible belt were not wide or varied.

  He sat next to her without asking her permission. His empty glass had been abandoned at his previous spot at the bar. The bartender set another in front of him without asking, making Frannie reassess. The guy must be a regular.

  He swallowed half his drink, set the tumbler down on the bar and said, “What brings you to a place like this in a snowstorm?”

  Frannie took a drink as well. Her whole body was warm now. “I could ask you the same question.”

  “If you were from around here, you’d know.” He had another sip of his drink and turned back to her. He took his time looking at her. “You don’t belong here.”

  Emboldened by the whiskey, she looked her fill of him as well. The warmth radiating to the rest of her body from her midsection shifted lower. “Where do I belong?”

  They were sitting close, too close, but she noted the fact too late.

  “Is this a guessing game, then?”

  “I don’t play games.”

  “Everybody plays. Not everyone wins.” He swallowed the rest of his drink. “What’s your name?”

  She considered for a moment, then said, “Frannie.”

  “Nice to meet you. I’m Patrick.”

  He held out his hand and she looked at it, then twenty-seven years of breeding kicked in and she offered hers. His fingers were warm and well-shaped. This wasn’t a man who worked with his hands. He was a professional of some sort. Maybe he was a lawyer, too. He had that air about him, like he’d stripped off a jacket and tie and left them in an expensive car before coming into the bar.

  “You have nice hands,” he said, still holding hers in his. He brushed his thumb across the ring she wore. Her college ring. She didn’t miss his glance at her other hand to see if she wore a diamond or wedding band. “What brings you here, Frannie?” he asked, his thumb now moving back and forth across her knuckles.

  Her hand felt good in his, human contact felt good after so much loss and emptiness, so she traced the lines of his palm with her fingertips. “I needed a drink.”

  He chuckled. “I think you had two, not that I’m counting.”

  She smiled. “And I’m still not drunk, so I think I need another.”

  He lifted his chin, looking at the bartender, taking care of her request. She brought the drink to her lips and downed it in one swallow. She resisted the urge to cough and ruin the effect.

  “Impressive,” he noted with a raised eyebrow. “Better?”

  She smiled, but her hair fell like a curtain separating them. He pushed it back, leaving her face and neck exposed and vulnerable to him. He leaned in, his bourbon-laced breath warm on her cheek, his dark stubble not unpleasantly rough against her cheek. He sighed and nudged her ear with his nose, his warm lips caressed the lobe.

  She should move away, but the whiskey and the sadness pressing on her soul interfered with Frannie’s ability to act like the proper young lady her mother had raised her to be.

  “Tell me to stop,” he whispered, but pressed another kiss to the vulnerable spot behind her ear. He put his arm along the bar in front of her and slid the back of his fingers along her jaw until their gazes locked again. Raw pain flowed between them. They both wanted to feel something else—needed to feel anything else. So she leaned in and tasted his lips.

  Chapter 16

  “Wow. That was so good.” Jenny said.

  Cord and Jenny had managed to polish off half a pot of excellent chicken noodle soup and a sleeve of saltine crackers. He lifted a glass of sweet iced tea to his lips. “There’s a nice claw foot tub upstairs, if you’re inclined.”

  “Sounds good. Are you coming
up?”

  Was that an invitation? He looked away and concentrated on finishing his tea, sure he was reading things into her words that weren’t there because he was still feeling the effects of their kiss, hours after it had happened. “You go ahead. I’ll be up in a bit.”

  Jenny smiled. “You’re going to do the dishes even though Miss Estelee said not to.”

  “Busted.”

  She stood, but stopped when she could have walked past him. She squeezed his shoulder, and he nearly came unglued—almost grasped her wrist and dragged her down into his lap so they could take up where they’d left off earlier.

  “Thanks.”

  He didn’t know what he’d been expecting her to say, but it wasn’t that. “For what?”

  “For staying with me.”

  He looked up into her eyes and understood how people got lost in emotion. Her gaze was so open and trusting as it settled on him. He knew better than to get involved with a subject. Trouble was that try as he might, he couldn’t see her as anything other than a strong, beautiful, sexy woman that he wanted. Damn it, she was deep under his skin.

  “Good night,” he said and hoped that his implied message was getting across to her that they wouldn’t see each other until the morning. But Jenny just smiled that smile that did wild things to his heart rate, then trailed her hand along his shoulder and went up the stairs.

  Cord raked a hand through his hair, visions of Jenny up there in the bathroom, taking her clothes off, sliding into a bath filled with warm, steamy water... stroking her body with a washcloth the way he’d like to stroke her body with his hands. He shook his head and stood, taking the dishes from the table to the sink. How the hell was he going to get through the night with Jenny just down the hall?

  “Boss’s gonna be pissed but good when he hears we been caught, and right here in Angel Ridge of all places.”

  “That’s the least of our worries now. We’re facin’ charges. I didn’t bargain for goin’ back to prison.”

  “I won’t. I’ll cut me a deal.”

  “Shut up!” Jackson said softly, silencing his men. “Trespassing will be like a pesky gnat on a judge’s busy docket. The charges’ll be dismissed, if it even gets that far. Besides that, the boss has got connections in this town. So just keep your mouths shut, or I’ll see to it that you’ll wish you had.”

  The dirty men hunched over their midsections, trying to make themselves smaller, if that was possible.

  “There are more coming in behind us. Hell, it’s likely they’re already here. I should’ve waited for backup, but I never figured the sheriff here to be anything to contend with. I won’t make that mistake twice.”

  “We need to get out of this town.”

  “You say somethin’, Roy?” Jackson asked.

  “We should have been able to take the woman on the mountain, but didn’t. We sure should’ve been able to take her from that farm, but couldn’t. It’s this town. She won’t be taken here or anywhere near it.”

  “Aw, shut up with the superstition already, Roy. We heard it all. Don’t mean nothin’,” one of the men said.

  “Mark my words. I’ve lived around here long enough to know that things happen that can’t be explained.”

  “Backwoods rednecks,” Jackson grumbled. “The only problem I got is bein’ saddled with all you backwoods rednecks. Now, shut up. I don’t want to hear anything else from any of you.”

  The followers settled in their corners of the cell and drifted off to sleep. But Jackson stayed awake, trying to put Roy’s warnings out of his head while he plotted their next move.

  Upstairs, a sliver of light spilled into the dark hallway from the bottom of the closed bathroom door. Some tantalizing scent from Jenny’s bath water teased his nose and incited wild images to flicker across the screen of his mind like an X-rated movie. He shook his head and opened a door, then leaned against its frame, eyes squeezed shut, willing the images to fade.

  He sighed and pushed away without bothering with the light. He had a long, sleepless night ahead of him, but first, he stripped to his boxers and went over to open the window. The shock of cold hit him like a physical blow. Unfortunately, it did little to cool the heat in his blood.

  He moved toward the bed knowing he was going to spend a restless night in it. It was an old-fashioned double, too small for him. He pulled back the covers and lay down. The old frame creaked from lack of use as he slid in and pulled the quilt up to his waist. He put a hand under his head and stared at the patterns the tall barren trees outside the window made on the wood plank ceiling. The old house creaked and groaned like it was alive, talking to the wind and snow swirling around the house, rattling the century-old windows.

  How had this happened? How had he gotten himself this deep in a situation he’d sworn never to find himself in again? He’d been living in a clearing on a remote mountain for years, his demons too strong for him to subject anyone other than himself to their torture. And now, through a set of events he hadn’t asked for or been able to control, he had Jenny to protect.

  Sure, he’d guarded people before in his work with the military and the bureau, so he could default to that mindset easily enough. Detach and do the work. What he couldn’t explain as easily was why he hadn’t been able to do that with Jenny, and even more troubling were these feelings for Jenny that had him tangled up in knots.

  He squeezed his eyes shut and willed his mind to go blank, but then he heard the door to the bathroom open, the squeak of the wood floors as Jenny padded down the hall. He held his breath, imagining her stopping at his closed door, weighing whether she’d open it and come in, walk over to him wearing nothing but a towel, moonlight shimmering across her damp skin. He broke out in a sweat despite the coolness of the room. Then he heard her continue down the hall, another door open and close, and then the house settled back into its night sounds. He wondered if she’d chosen the room next to his or the one across the hall—

  “Stop it!” he grumbled and turned onto his side. He punched the pillow and settled his head into the indention. Half an hour or three later, he didn’t know how long he’d lain there, but he felt every spring in the mattress pressing against him. He rolled to his other side to relieve the pressure, and she was there. Standing beside his bed like an apparition, so close he could reach out and touch her.

  He had to be dreaming, but when he blinked, she was still there, wearing some oversized pale cotton nightgown, sleeveless and ruffled at the square neck and hem, which barely reached her knees. The style belonged to someone much older, but on Jenny it was sexy as hell with the moonlight from the window backlighting her. He held his breath, equally afraid she was real or a dream.

  She tugged at the crumpled blanket as she eased in beside him. The bed creaked and dipped. When she tangled her cold, bare legs with his, he knew this wasn’t a dream. His arm closed around her, pressing her close to his chest as he pulled the quilt up around them.

  “You’re freezing,” he whispered.

  She nodded, her eyes, huge and open, locked on his. He brushed her long, blonde hair back over her shoulder. Her cold hands felt like ice on his waist and then his back.

  “It’s cold in my room,” she explained. “I couldn’t sleep.”

  He couldn’t sleep either, but then, he never slept.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” he said as he caressed warmth into her back and arms.

  “I know. I told myself that, too, but then...”

  He sucked in a breath as she trailed a hand around his waist and up his chest to his neck. His brain was quickly detaching from the rest of his body. She eased her foot around his ankle and he bent his knee. Jenny sighed and arched her back as she sank her hand into his hair and cupped the back of his head.

  “Then it all became really clear to me.”

  He slid his hand over her hip, down her thigh to the back of her knee, easing it up over his to his hip.

  “It came to me that we’re in this space—this raw space where nothing exis
ts. I’m not lost, but not found. I’m not the person I was, or the one I’m going to be. It’s like the stone in your necklace.”

  She held the pendant between them, caressing the center stone with her thumb. “It’s this place in the middle that the elements carved out. Fire refines, water cleanses, wind brings change, and the earth anchors and nurtures life. It’s a journey getting from one to the other. The place in the middle is where all’s stripped away. Life begins there, strong, safe and protected in the niche the elements carve out. That’s us, Cord. We’re in this space between. Nothing else matters. Together, we’re safe and protected here.”

  “Jenny—”

  She held the pendant up. “You knew it when you made this all those years ago, but it took this set of circumstances for you, for us, to really understand what it means.”

  She pressed her lips to his, soft and warm, then broke the contact. “You feel it, too,” her breath was like the wind against his mouth, changing him.

  “That’s why the feelings between us are so strong, so intense.”

  The fire sweeping through his body could only be quenched by Jenny. And her body was like the earth, anchoring him.

  “We can’t deny it.”

  She held the pendant between them as he kissed her, its form imprinting her palm like she would forever be imprinted on his heart, his mind, his body, his soul. Their lovemaking filled all the empty spaces in every aspect of his being, making Cord whole for the first time in his life.

  Chapter 17

  Jenny woke to gray light filtering into the room and Cord’s arm heavy and real draped across her waist. She smiled and eased her hand from his wrist to his elbow and back again. He pulled her back, tight against him, nuzzling a spot at the base of her neck and then pressed his lips to her skin causing a shiver from that spot all the way down her spine.