Tempted by the Soldier

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Tempted by the Soldier Page 18

by Patricia Potter


  He hung up, then made another call. “Mayor,” he said after a few seconds. “This is Tony. Thought you would like to know there’s been an altercation on the courthouse grounds. Haven’t sorted it all out yet, but your new tenant is involved.” A pause. “No, it’s not serious, but he has a shiner. Because of his concussion, I want Doc Bradley to see him.”

  He listened for a moment, then added, “The other fellow apparently was taking photos of some of the stores with, according to Clint, special attention to Stephanie’s building. He was doing it surreptitiously, also according to Clint, and when he confronted the guy, Clint was assaulted. Turns out the assailant is a private investigator from Boston. He also had a .45 with him. Looks like he has a broken leg and broken nose.” A pause, then, “Okay. I’m going to have the PI patched up and take him to jail unless Doc thinks he needs a hospital.”

  Clint saw Bolling glare at Tony. Clint, however, was liking the police chief more each second.

  Stephanie emerged from her building. She glanced around, saw Clint and rushed directly to him. “The dogs were going crazy. What—” Then she saw Clint’s face. “What in God’s heaven happened to you?”

  Tony broke in. “He saw someone taking an interest in your building and asked a few unappreciated questions. Turns out the man is a private investigator from Boston who doesn’t want to share why he’s sneaking around at night taking photos of your building. He hit Clint who responded in like manner.”

  Stephanie looked at Clint, then Tony. “A private investigator?” she echoed.

  “That’s what his identification says. He thinks that entitles him to withhold information as to why he’s here. It doesn’t.”

  She went over to the wounded figure on the grass. “Mark Townsend sent you.” It was a statement, not a question. “What did he want?”

  The man glared at her. “If I don’t get a doctor, I’ll sue the town for every cent it has.”

  “And what jury is going to award that to you?” Tony said. He gestured to the other two officers. “Doc should be ready for us now. You two had better get a wheelchair from his office for Mr. Bolling here. Call me on my cell when Doc gets through with him and I’ll take Clint over.”

  “I want an attorney,” Bolling said, wincing as he moved.

  “I’ll give you a list of local ones. You have one call, so choose carefully.”

  He turned to Stephanie and Clint. “I think we need to talk.”

  “We can go to my apartment,” Stephanie said.

  “You okay, Clint?” Tony asked.

  Clint nodded.

  They walked across the street to Stephanie’s office. She led the way to a hall, then up stairs to a door. When she opened it, three dogs clamored for attention. Clint leaned down and scratched ears. The smallest one tried to climb his leg.

  “No, Lulu,” Stephanie said, and the pup sat. She turned to Clint. “I’ll get some ice for that eye. And you have a cut on your cheek. It’s bleeding. I’ll get a bandage until Doc can take a look at you.”

  Clint touched his cheek where the second blow had landed. He imagined he was going to have one hell of a black eye. There was blood on his hand, but not much. Probably not more than a scratch. Still, he liked Stephanie’s concern. He looked around the living area. A comfortable sofa and two large chairs dominated the room. The building was old, but the interior of the living quarters looked well kept and comfortable. Lots of bookcases. Several magazines were tossed carelessly on a coffee table.

  She returned with an ice bag full of ice, a wet cloth and a bandage. She wiped the blood from his cheek and applied the bandage. “Coffee or something stronger?” she asked the two men.

  “I’m on duty,” Tony said. “Coffee. Black.”

  She turned to Clint. “And you?”

  He needed to stay clearheaded, although he dearly wanted something stronger. “Coffee. Black for me, too.”

  She brought two cups of coffee, handed them to the men, then sat down.

  “Cody said you pack one hell of a punch,” Tony said, looking at his eye.

  Clint shrugged. “Army training.”

  Tony turned to Stephanie. “The guy was trying to get away. Clint wasn’t having it.”

  “Thank you,” she said to Clint, her slight smile warming him, then she looked at Tony. “I was going to call you in the morning.”

  “Something to do with this?”

  “Most likely.”

  He looked at Clint. “Do you mind if he stays?”

  She shook her head. “I wouldn’t have known about the investigator if he hadn’t noticed him.” She looked at his wounded eye. “He earned it.”

  Clint felt as if he’d just been awarded a medal.

  Tony waited for an explanation.

  She sighed. “It’s a long story.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  STEPHANIE WASN’T SURE this was the best thing to do, especially bringing Clint into her problems. And her life.

  But he might well be in some kind of trouble, or danger, because of her.

  She had no doubt now that Mark must be involved. The anonymous phone calls, Susan’s visit and now a Boston investigator were just too much to be coincidental.

  Clint had thwarted a plan of Mark’s.

  “I think the PI was sent by my ex-husband, Mark Townsend,” she said. “He’s an investment banker in Boston.” She took a deep breath. She didn’t like to admit what an idiot she’d once been. But now, thanks to Clint, she knew Mark had been trailing Susan. And her.

  “Do you have any idea why your ex-husband would send Bolling here?”

  “Mark was abusive, verbally and physically. When he became violent, I left. He fought the divorce, then he did everything possible to destroy me without dirtying his own hands. He almost succeeded. To escape his reach, I legally changed my name and Dr. Langford helped me do it. But Mark doesn’t like to lose. Anything.

  “I thought that period of my life was over, but earlier today, I had visitors. Mark’s current wife and her attorney were somehow able to find me. She’s desperate for a divorce, but he’s holding their three-year-old girl, Melissa, as hostage. I don’t think I can let him do that.”

  She looked at Clint’s face. His jaw was set, his dark eyes glittering with something she couldn’t read.

  “What did he do to you?” Tony asked gently.

  “First of all, Mark is a well-connected and respected banker in Boston. He comes from a very old and respected Boston family, donates to political campaigns and is a friend of the mayor and police officials. He is a sponsor of the symphony and supports other charities. He is absolutely charming. He can do no wrong in the eyes of most people. I thought so, too, until several months after I married him, Dr. Jekyll turned into Mr. Hyde.”

  She then told them everything she’d told David Matthews and Susan.

  “Son of a bitch,” Tony said when she finished.

  Clint hadn’t said a word. He’d kept the ice pack pressed against his eye, but his body was rigid. He looked nothing like the easygoing charmer now. The heat of his anger practically touched her.

  Did he understand? Believe her? She shouldn’t care, but she did.

  She cared more than she ever thought she could.

  The phone rang. Tony answered. “Doc is ready for Clint.” Stephanie looked at her watch. Nearly two hours had passed.

  Clint didn’t move. “You obviously think he could come after you now.”

  She nodded. “I’ve had several anonymous calls from the Boston area. I haven’t been ready to answer them. I do know that if he thinks I’m helping Susan...”

  She stopped when she looked at him. She’d wondered more than once how the easygoing, friendly Clint Morgan could have been a chopper pilot at war. Seeing him now, she understood. His eyes squinted, had darkened
into bottomless onyx. His lips were compressed into a tight frown. His body tensed like a coiled spring.

  Tony hung up the phone. “Doc said Bolling has a broken leg, but it’s a clean break, and he put a cast on it. The nose isn’t broken, but it’s going to hurt like hell. He doesn’t see a need for a hospital, which is very good indeed. I’ll go back and find out what Mr. Bolling has to say.” He pointed to Clint. “You go get checked out by Doc. He’s waiting for you, and it’s past his bedtime. That makes him grouchy as hell.”

  “I don’t think Stephanie should be left alone,” Clint said.

  “Stephanie makes her own decisions,” Stephanie said. “Believe me, I can take care of myself now. And Sherry and Stryker may look harmless, but they’re very protective.” She gave Clint a wan smile. “Now you, you look a little worse for wear. I don’t think Covenant Falls is doing much for your health.” She couldn’t resist adding, “From foot to head.”

  Tony grinned. “Believe her,” he said. “I’ve been target-shooting with her. She’s as good as I am. I’m thinking this Townsend will be sorry if he takes her on again.”

  “Except I’m going to take him on this time,” she said. “Tony, I want to turn the tables. Can you tap my office phone? Record calls?”

  “Yeah. The former police chief salvaged all kinds of equipment. What are you thinking?”

  “I know how to push his buttons. If he calls, maybe I can...”

  “You know it wouldn’t be legal in court,” Tony said.

  “Maybe not, but it’s ammunition.”

  “I’ll do it, but only if you promise to call me immediately if he contacts you.”

  “I will.”

  “I’ll do it tonight.”

  Tony’s cell rang again. “Doc says if you don’t get over there, he’s going to bed.”

  “I don’t need...”

  “I’ll go with you,” Stephanie said. “Tony can go talk to Bolling, then to Susan and David. They’re still at the B and B, but plan to leave early in the morning. I’ll call and tell them he’ll be calling.”

  Tony left, and Stephanie was alone with Clint. “Thank you for stopping that PI. Now that I’m alerted, I’ll be careful. How did you happen to see him?”

  “Restless, I guess. I started walking and just kept going.” He shrugged. “To tell the truth, I missed Bart.”

  The words hit her like a ten-ton truck. Eve had said they’d bonded, but she hadn’t realized how much. Nor had she realized how lonely he must be in a strange town, unable to drive, unable to do the one thing he’d apparently excelled at. He’d made an effort to make friends, had tutored some of the oldest and most difficult residents and had made them smile.

  He’d given up Bart because he didn’t want to hurt a boy.

  He was as different from Mark as any two men could be.

  She touched his cheek. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “I’m not. It felt damned good punching that guy. An outlet for my frustration, a psychologist might say.”

  “And you’re frustrated?”

  “On many fronts,” he said with the smile that became more attractive day by day.

  “Mrs. Aubry thinks you’re very good-looking.”

  He laughed. “Is she your client, too?”

  “Yes. She has a cat.’”

  “I’m flattered. Dare I hope you agree?”

  “Maybe if you didn’t have a black eye, swollen cheek and a foot kicked by a heifer.”

  “Minor flaws.”

  He kissed her then, and she wasn’t going to pretend she didn’t like it, didn’t want it, didn’t need it.

  The events of today had shaken her. They had brought back the pain, insecurity and helplessness she’d once felt. But they were receding now as Clint’s arms wrapped around her and she burrowed herself in the warmth and gentleness that had once so frightened her. She hadn’t trusted it then.

  Maybe she still didn’t trust it completely. But she was getting there.

  His lips touched hers, and her world exploded. Need boiled between him, hers as great as his. It was the tenderness mixed with passion that inflamed every sense in her body, the way his fingers so lightly caressed the back of her neck.

  She closed her eyes and leaned against him, feeling an oddly comforting protection. The kiss deepened and she was as much a participant as he. She wanted him as much as she sensed he wanted her. She moved closer and his body tensed. She heard the quick intake of breath and sensed it was from pain, not passion, though the latter was certainly present.

  She stepped back. “Take off your shirt,” she said.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  His well-toned chest and left shoulder were covered with large bruises. His cheek had become even more multicolored. His eye was red and the area under it already purplish blue. “We’re going to Doc’s,” she said in a voice strange to her. She wasn’t ready for the deluge of emotions rushing through her. She’d fought against them so long.

  “You can trust me,” he said, low, gentle. And she realized he knew exactly what she was thinking. “I’ll never do anything you don’t want to do.”

  It was as if he read her mind. As if he understood and was telling her he wanted her enough not to push.

  She swallowed hard. Maybe she wanted him to push...

  The phone rang. They both stood for a moment, unwilling to break the emotional spell binding them together. Then she forced herself to break away. “That will be Doc.”

  She picked up the phone. “Where in the devil are you?” Dr. Bradley said.

  “We’re on our way,” she replied and hung up. She handed him his shirt. “I think we’ll probably have an audience out there.”

  “You’re coming with me?”

  “Can’t have you fainting on Main Street.”

  “Is that the only reason?”

  “No,” she said quietly and felt his hand take hers. She suddenly realized he had never once mentioned family or friends or a past beyond the army. More of her last existing resistance slipped away.

  His black eye was, after all, her fault. His attacker had been sent because of her. Going with him was the least she could do.

  “Stryker, Sherry, stay here. Take care of Lulu. Now we should hurry, or Doc Bradley will probably raid us.”

  * * *

  CLINT AGREED TO GO because it meant spending more time with Stephanie.

  He was fine. Better than fine. He felt positively giddy. His eye hurt, his cheek was sore and other parts of his body ached, but that was more than compensated by the knowledge that Stephanie wanted him as much as he wanted her.

  And now he understood her reluctance to get involved despite the fact that from the day they had met there’d been something explosive between them. From what she had said about her marriage, she was understandably suspicious of the opposite sex.

  She had dropped that guard, at least for tonight and let him inside her life, in the entrance only, but that was a beginning.

  Doc Bradley waited at his front door. “About time,” he said. “You know where the exam room is. Stephanie, you can wait out here.”

  He followed Clint into the examination room. He checked Clint’s eye. “Have you seen it yet?” he asked.

  “No. Just felt it.”

  “You were lucky. Doesn’t look like any actual damage to the eye, but it’s red and the area around it is going to be swollen and discolored for a time.” He removed the bandage, swabbed the cut and applied a new one. “I understand you were on the ground,” he said when he finished. “Any blows to the head?”

  “No.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You realize you have to be careful to avoid any more concussions? There’s an accumulative effect on your brain.”


  “I didn’t choose that fight.”

  “Doesn’t matter. You need to go out of your way to avoid them.” He sat back. “Any more headaches?”

  “One a few days ago.”

  “Less frequent?”

  “I think so. There’s not been a blackout since I left the hospital.”

  Dr. Bradley frowned. “All the more reason to be careful. Are you okay on pain medicine?”

  “Yes. Haven’t used much of it.”

  “And your foot is better?”

  “Completely healed.”

  “Try to stay out of trouble, young man.”

  “That’s my intention.”

  The doctor sighed. “My practice has increased since you came here.”

  Clint grinned. “I’ll try to do something about that.”

  “Please do, young man.” He let Clint go out into the main office where Stephanie waited.

  “He’s all yours,” Doc Bradley said. “Please take better care of him. I’m getting too old for late nights.”

  “He’s not mine,” Stephanie protested.

  “You’re the one who keeps bringing him in,” the doctor said briskly, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice.

  They left the office. “I don’t think he approves of me,” Clint said.

  “He only grouses at people he likes. It’s all a big pretense.”

  They were silent as they walked back to her office. He wanted to go back upstairs and explore the opening she’d given him, but he feared pushing her too hard now. She was vulnerable. He knew that from her stilted, brittle voice when she had talked about her ex-husband. If Mark Townsend had been nearby, Clint thought there was a good chance he would have killed the man.

  When they arrived at her building, she turned to him. “I’ll drive you home.”

  It wasn’t what he wanted, but it would do for the time being. He nodded.

 

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