Unforgettable Heroes II Boxed Set

by Elizabeth Bevarly

  “Running isn’t the answer.”

  His unexpected words fell like a bomb on her head.

  “Sooner or later you’re going to have to stop and face whatever’s behind you.”

  Dee stumbled to a halt, her heart racing. He knew nothing; he couldn’t know. She stared, searching his eyes.

  The silence stretched past comfortable before he spoke. “Whatever it is, I can help.”

  Her knees nearly buckled at the temptation to tell him everything. But she couldn’t. This was her mistake, her consequences.

  Still, the offer warmed her. Yes, given the chance, she could really like this man.

  Regret as much as gratitude pushed her up on her toes until her lips pressed against his roughened cheek in a soft, brief kiss. Then she turned and walked toward the end of the parking lot. Evasive explanations would only prolong her time with him, and while a part of her mind wanted that, she couldn’t afford it.

  After a second, she heard the crunch of gravel. He was following, a few paces behind. True to his word, he was seeing her safely to her car.

  Dee stopped beside the Mustang, keys in hand, and allowed herself one last glance, but his gaze wasn’t on her. Even in the darkness she saw the frown puckering his brow as he looked at her car.

  When he walked to the passenger front and stooped, her fears rushed back. Had she already stayed too long? Had she already been found?

  Dee scrambled around the front of the car as Jared squatted, his hands on her tire. “Have you had any problems driving?” he asked.

  “No.” Her voice came out an embarrassing croak. She cleared her throat before continuing. “Is something wrong?”

  “It looks like your tire’s low.”

  She pressed her hand to her chest. Thank God, it was just a tire.

  “You need to have this looked at before you go anywhere.”

  Dee nodded. “I’ll have it checked out tomorrow.” Sometime. Someplace.

  “Where are you staying tonight?”

  She took a step back.

  Jared blew out an exasperated sigh. “It’s too late to get it repaired tonight,” he said.

  “You said it was low, not flat.”

  “But you can’t drive on it”—he lifted a challenging gaze—“at least not very far.”

  The way he could read her thoughts was unnerving. “Thanks for the advice,” she said as she walked back to the driver’s side.

  Jared ran a hand over his head. “Look,” he said, “go wherever you want tonight. But meet me here tomorrow morning. I know a reliable place where you can get it repaired cheap.”

  Dammit, she could barely have a thought before he was reading it.

  “You name the time,” he said before she could argue.

  She angled her head. “Ten.”

  “Eleven.”

  “You said I could name the time,” she accused.

  He tucked his head as a sheepish grin tugged his lips. “I have an appointment at nine.”

  “You don’t have to…”

  He held up his hands. “I know you want to leave. No pressure here. I just want to know you’re safe… as safe as possible before you hit the road.”

  She stared at him across the width of the car. His gaze was steady.

  Tired, afraid, tired of being afraid, Dee decided to trust him. Just this once. “Eleven.” She nodded.

  As she pulled out of the parking lot, Dee glanced in the rearview mirror. Jared stood where she’d left him like a guardian, watching.

  Chapter Two

  “Dammit.” Jared glanced again at the dashboard as he sped over the narrow, curving road. Noon. Dee Quinn was too anxious to sit still for an hour. She was running. Too afraid to stop and take a stand; too scared to trust someone else to help.

  That fear stirred every cop instinct in him.

  The tiny sports car popped over the last hill, and he scanned the gravel lot. As he’d expected, it was empty except for Ray’s battered pickup parked at the far end.

  The doctor couldn’t have chosen a worse day to run late. Then there were all the range of motion tests. His left hip still ached. The doctor was optimistic he’d make a full recovery from the accident, but Jared wasn’t so sure.

  He released a heavy sigh as he parked the car and walked in to the bar.

  “Hey Jared. What’s the news?”

  “Doc says I can go back to work in one month.”

  “That’s good.”

  Jared angled his chin. “They’re short at work; they need me. I just hope I don’t get caught up in any foot chases anytime soon. The hip and ribs still hurt like crazy.”

  The bartender twisted the lid off a bottle of water, slid a napkin under it, set it on the bar. “You just missed her.”

  Jared schooled his features into a blank mask. Ray was always trying to play matchmaker. No way was he going to play into that game. He wasn’t interested in her like that. “Who?”

  “Dee. You remember her. Last night. Brown hair…”

  It was auburn. The man wasn’t half as observant as he thought.

  “…big eyes. You danced with her.”

  Jared felt the heat of Ray’s probing stare. Well, the psychologist wannabe wasn’t going to get any response.

  “As I recall, you followed her out of here.”

  Jared softened his features to boredom. “Oh yeah, her. I saw her to her car. It’s dark out there.” He narrowed an eye. “You need better lighting.”

  “I’m looking into it.”

  Jared swiped up the water and took a long drink to cover his annoyance. Ray’s unexpected, uncharacteristic, unsportsmanlike agreement stole his argument. And then there was the guy’s unholy grin. It made Jared want to scratch without knowing what was itching.

  Ray was still grinning when he explained. “Dee mentioned it when she was here.” He rested a forearm on the bar and leaned closer. “She said to tell you she’d stopped by. On time.”

  Waves of heat poured from the neckline of Jared’s T-shirt, parching his eyes. He was blushing, dammit. “It’s not…” He swallowed his argument and took a steadying breath. “She’s riding on a low tire. I was going to take her to have it repaired.”

  Ray straightened, a cat that’s just finished the cream look on his face. “She mentioned that, too.”

  Dammit. With all his pseudo-psychologist skills, how could Ray not see she was running scared? It was natural for a cop to sense it and be curious. “So where’d you send her?”

  “Charlie’s station in Maystown. I figured that’s what you had in mind.”

  Jared nodded as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a dollar.

  Ray shook his head, refusing the payment. “She’s going to—”

  Jared held up a silencing hand. “She’s getting her tire fixed. That’s all I care about.”

  Ray’s smug look irritated him.

  Jared headed out the door without another word. He eased into his car and turned right on Highway 18 toward Maystown. He had done his civic duty. Once he’d driven by the shop and assured himself her red Mustang had made it there, he would rest easy knowing he’d done everything possible to help.

  He pushed the black Spyder convertible through the sharp, climbing curve to the top of the hill. She mentioned safety to Ray. Her. A woman traveling alone. A woman with some kind of trouble chasing at her heels.

  How many other places had she stopped along the way? How many other guys had walked her to her car?

  The growl rumbled in the back of his throat; his hands tightened on the wheel.

  Did she know anything about self-defense? Was she taking any safety precautions?

  Jared glared in the rear view mirror, a harsh breath hissing through his lips. Who was he kidding? She was attractive. He was a male. She was in trouble. He was a cop. They fit. At least on a superficial, temporary level.

  So he would drive by the shop to make sure she’d made it. Just spot the shiny red Mustang. Like the one sitting on the edge of the road in the valle
y below.

  Jared bolted upright in his seat and added more weight to the accelerator, his heart kicking at a faster pace. The one time he’d seen her car it was dark, still he recognized it.

  No one was walking along the highway; no one stood near the car. Switching on his hazard lights, Jared eased his car off the side of the road behind the Mustang. He pulled out his cell phone and called dispatch.

  “Hey Geri, busy day?” He approached the red car cautiously, looking inside then circling it. There was no sign of damage. He stepped closer and rested a hand on the hood. Still warm. She couldn’t be far.

  He glanced up and down the empty stretch of highway. “I found a breakdown on Highway 18. It’s about seven miles, give or take, west of Moore’s. Yeah, toward Maystown. Could you send a wrecker?”

  He answered Geri’s practiced, precise questions with ease while his mind listed the possibilities. Did she have a cell phone? Didn’t everyone? She hadn’t called 911; Geri would have mentioned it. Did she know anyone in the area to call for help? Why hadn’t he thought to give her his number last night?

  “Dee Quinn. Cordelia. Yes, that’s the owner’s name, but no, she’s not here. She’s gone for help.

  “Yes, I know there’s nothing between here and Maystown, but she doesn’t. She’s new to the area.” Just passing through. “So the sooner you can get that wrecker here, the sooner I can find her.”

  Bless Geri’s perceptive heart. He hadn’t intended to ask for police help. With budget cuts and several recent retirements, their numbers were thin across the state. But if she thought they had the time, and Geri would know, he wasn’t going to turn down the assistance.

  “She’s five-five, auburn hair, hazel eyes.” He answered her questions, then pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it in disbelief. “Yeah, I’d say she’s cute.”

  “Is she single?”

  He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. For all her good qualities, Geri was nosy, a matchmaker like Ray. Worse, she was a gossip.

  “I don’t know.” Was that why she was running? An abusive spouse? She wasn’t wearing a ring, so maybe an ex? Or boyfriend?

  Protective instincts sparked all around him. He intended to know more as soon as he found her.

  “Wow, it must really be slow,” Jared muttered as a wrecker rounded the curve. “Thanks for your help, Geri. I’ll keep my cell close. Call me if anyone finds her,” he said and ended the call before she could comment.

  He pulled his car around the Mustang, giving the wrecker room to approach from the rear.

  “You didn’t happen to see anyone walking along the road, did you?” he asked as the driver climbed out of the truck.

  “Nope. Didn’t pass anyone,” the stocky man in gray, grease-smeared coveralls said as he knelt on the road to study the rear end of the Mustang. “Driver missing?”

  Unease squeezed his gut. “I’m assuming she went for help.” Had whatever…whoever…she was running from caught up with her?

  “Know what’s wrong?”

  “No,” Jared answered. “I do know the right front tire needs to be replaced.”

  The mechanic, squatting behind the vehicle, stretched to the side and noted the tire. “It’s not flat.”

  “I know. But she’s been having problems with it.”

  The guy nodded. “I can repair it.”

  “Go ahead and put a new tire on.” Jared lifted his brows, quelling the mechanic’s ready question.

  The haphazard collection of clothes, empty food containers, and bags in the back of the Mustang supported his theory of her running. Whatever she was running from, he didn’t want to think of her driving on some patched up tire.

  “The tires are standard,” the mechanic said as he stood and pulled the hydraulics handle. The rear end lifted into the air. “I’ll be able to match it.”

  “Thanks. Have Charlie put it on my account,” Jared said, then stood back as the mechanic maneuvered the wrecker across the road, backed, then headed toward Maystown.

  Jared watched as the truck towed the Mustang away. That was the easy part; now he had to find Dee.

  A shrill sound pulled his gaze from the retreating taillights. A shrieking banshee emerged from the thick overgrowth on his right, arms waving in the air as feet stumbled over uneven ground.

  The banshee stopped in the middle of the road, auburn hair swinging around bared shoulders, hands slapping empty air. Her legs, very shapely legs, propelled her down the hot asphalt.

  “Come back here,” Dee shouted as the wrecker rounded a curve that took it out of sight. She chased down the pavement several yards before she stopped. Splayed fingers dropped to the top of her head and fisted in the thick tresses. “That’s my car.” She gave one last stomp.

  Her exasperated sigh reached across the distance and snapped Jared out of his stunned reverie. He had taken three steps toward her when she turned. It took a few seconds for opaque misery to clear to hopeful recognition. And just a fraction of a second for that bright hope to dissolve to angry understanding.

  She swung an arm around, finger pointing behind her. “They’re towing my car away.” She glanced over her shoulder as if to confirm, yes, her car was gone. “You,” she gasped, bringing her gaze back to him. “You had it towed.”

  Her nose was turning an awkward shade of red. And her chest… He tried to ignore the way it heaved beneath the glowing orange tank top.

  “You… You…” she spluttered in loud gasps. “Why did you do that?”

  “I thought you were broken down,” he said. As he stepped toward her, Dee’s eyes widened, her face grew taut, and she stepped back.

  Jared’s fingers curled into tight fists. He didn’t want her to be afraid. Not of him.

  “But…but…I…” She pulled in a broken breath, sealed her lips and shook her head.

  “Dee, I’m sorry. I thought you needed help.”

  Watery green eyes peered at him through spread fingers.

  “I remembered your tire and thought it had blown. I assumed you went to get help. Come on.” He directed her out of the road. “I’ll take you to lunch, it’s the least I can do. Then we’ll stop by the shop where they’re replacing your tire…”

  “They don’t need to replace it,” she said with a sniff. “The old one is….”

  “It needs to be replaced. I’ll feel better if you’re riding on a new tire.”

  She stared into his eyes, confusion and doubt etched into her gold-flecked eyes.

  Funny how a few seconds in her company erased his doubts. Her affect on him was interesting.

  “I can’t afford a new tire,” she said, her voice quiet, almost apologetic.

  “Don’t worry about it.” Jared lifted his arm to pull her close, but checked his move and lowered it. Not now. Not yet. “What were you doing up there?” He nodded toward the rock-filled incline.

  “I was looking at a house.”

  Jared stopped in midstride as he noticed for the first time two rows of compressed grass, evidence of a vehicle recently driving up that incline. He’d been too wrapped up in worry about her to notice earlier.

  No way had the Mustang gone up there. The low-riding vehicle would never have made it up the scattering of boulders or over the bramble that lined the top.

  “The house,” she began, “belongs to…”

  “Ed Trumble,” they said in unison.

  A grin of pure pleasure lit her face. “You know him?”

  “Honey,” he drawled, “everyone knows Ed.”

  “He’s a lovely man.”

  Most folks claimed Ed Trumble had been born with the disposition of a rattlesnake. A cranky rattlesnake. And that he’d grown steadily worse since the death of his wife Doris, five years ago. More likely he’d been blinded by the clash of the orange shirt with Dee’s hair. “Why were you up at Ed’s house?”

  “Ray set it up.”

  Jared slowed his pace. What was Ray up to?

  “He thought I might be interested in it.” />
  “In Ed’s house?”

  “In his son’s house.”

  It had been years since Jared had seen the single-story ranch. It sat much closer to the road than Ed’s farmhouse. “I didn’t know it was still there.”

  “Sure it is,” Dee said as they walked around clumps of tall weeds and under tree branches. After about ten feet, the overgrowth opened into a wide field. The drive was more evident on this side.

  Dee squinted against the fierce sun. “It has a huge front yard.”

  Jared slanted a disbelieving look at her. “It’s a hayfield.”

  “Can you see it?” She plunged right into the waist-height grass. “Over there.” She pointed to the right. “Look.”

  He was looking. For ticks.

  As strands of grass slapped against his bare hands and arms, Jared sent a searching glance over Dee’s body, wincing when his eyes snagged on her shorts. Did she know about chiggers?

  The house sat on a small rise in an ocean of weeds. Hot and itching, Jared hustled Dee to the clearing until they stood in front of the white-framed house. “What do you think?” she asked.

  Jared lifted an arm and wiped the sleeve of his shirt over his sweaty forehead as he sucked warm, humid air into his lungs. This was one of those trick female questions. He’d be wrong no matter what he answered.

  “You don’t like it.” She slanted him an uncertain look.

  “I didn’t say that,” he pulled in another lungful of thick air.

  “You didn’t say anything.”

  He shrugged. “It’s a house.”

  She remained silent, her gaze steady.

  What did she want him to say?

  “It’s fine.” The sun beat down on his head; his clothes melted to his body. The creepy prickle of tiny feet skittered up his legs. “Why are you interested in the house?”

  Her hands on her hips, Dee studied the structure from one end to the other and lifted a shoulder. She climbed the steps of the poured concrete porch, turned and looked toward the road. “Ray thought I might want to live here while I do some work for him.”

  “You’re staying?” Even to his own ears, he sounded too interested. Jared stepped up on the porch behind Dee and peered through a filthy window. Lacy curtains obstructed his view. “I’ve never been inside,” he said. “What’s it like?”