…And leveling a short-barreled .357, cocked and ready, at the middle of Kenny Miller's chest.
Fuck!
The talk about what a dead shot she was detonated in Doug’s mind.
A bright red trail ran from her left nostril, down across her lips to her quivering chin and dripped onto her shirt. A mouse had already swollen beneath her eye, but her gaze was locked on the logger.
Doug’s mind and body gave in to years of training and experience. His senses heightened and intensified. Heart pounding against his sternum, he stepped closer, feeling as if he were walking in waist-high water. “Alex...listen to me....Let the hammer down.”
She didn’t respond, didn’t take her eyes off Miller.
Doug threw a glance at Miller from the corner of his eye. Don’t move, asshole. Forgodsake, don’t move.
The logger stood there ashen-faced and stone still.
“Alex?” Doug said softly. “Listen...I’m on your side....Let me help you....You know I won’t hurt you....”
No reaction. Her hand trembled.
“This bastard’s not worth screwing up your life, Alex....You know I’m right....Put it down…. Please?” Seconds turned to a minute. “Please, baby…think about your future.”
Despite her unsteady hand, she eased the hammer down and lowered the pistol. But she continued to stare at Miller. And blood continued to drip from her chin onto her shirt. She made no move to wipe it.
Doug released a held breath and said a silent prayer of thanks that she was able to safely deal with the cocked revolver. As ridiculous as it seemed, he was glad she knew something about firearms.
Though her eyes stared, she appeared to see nothing. The pistol hung from her hand beside her thigh. Doug grasped her wrist with his left hand and the gun with his right. “Let me have it, baby. Everything’s okay now.”
She relaxed her hand and he took the pistol. He flipped out the cylinder and spilled the rounds in a clatter on the bar top, then stuffed the gun into his waistband and gathered the cartridges, dropped them into his jeans pocket.
Hearing a sound like a deflating balloon, he looked down the bar, saw Estelle slumped against the backbar. A sob burst out and tears gushed.
“Estelle, it’s okay,” he said. “Stay—”
“You goddamn cunt!” Miller’s booming voice split the air. His weasel eyes glittered and he shook his clenched fist. “I'm gonna—”
“Hey!” Doug reached across the bar, filled his fist with the logger’s shirt. The bastard swung. Doug parried and grasped his throat with a trained grip, fighting the urge to choke the life from the asshole. He yanked him forward, until they were nose to nose across the bar. Miller wheezed. His hands flew to Doug’s wrist.
Doug glared into his eyes for long seconds. “You’re pressing your luck, friend. Get outta here.”
He released his grip. The logger staggered back, coughing, his hand bracketing his throat. Pure hatred burned in his black eyes. He twisted and adjusted his neck, shrugged his shirt back into place. He bent over and gathered the loose papers that had scattered on the floor when he scuffled with Alex. He stomped toward the door, but stopped before opening it and shook his fist at Doug. “You California sonofabitch! Stay outta my way or you’ll wish you had!” He yanked the heavy door open. It banged the wall as he made his exit.
Doug turned to Alex. She was still braced against the back counter, her fingers curled around its edge. A large bloodstain had spread on the front of her tan shirt. She pushed away and strode past him and the staring crowd, making for the ladies' room.
As voices in the room built to a crescendo, Doug yanked his handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his brow. His heart still pounded.
“You okay, Doug?” Pete said, coming up behind him.
“Yeah.” Doug stuffed his handkerchief back into his pocket.
“Crazy sonofabitch,” Mike said, shaking his head and staring at the front door.
Alex returned. Her face was clean, but she held a wad of tissue paper to her nose. Her right eye had already become a slit. She reached behind the bar for her purse. Without a word, without a look left or right, she strode the length of the room and left through the front door.
“Let’s get outta here,” Pete said.
“Roger that,” Mike added.
The two men followed Alex’s path outside with Doug close behind. On the sidewalk, he looked up and down the street, but saw neither Alex nor her Jeep. “Is that fucker gonna be waiting for her somewhere?” Doug asked the two men, craning his neck to spot her.
“I don't think so,”Pete said.
“You got his attention, Doug,” Mike said. “He’ll have a sore throat for a day or two.”
“What’s wrong with the sonofabitch?”
“Too much money and too much power,” Pete said. “He’s bad news. Messing with him’s like poking at a rattlesnake.”
“Hell, he could’ve hurt her bad,” Mike put in.
“Or she could’ve killed him,” Doug said.
The thought of either result made Doug’s gut clench. He scanned both sides of the street again. “Where the hell could she go so fast?”
“Look on the side street,” Pete said, also scanning the street. “She usually parks around the corner.”
Doug walked a few steps to the corner and looked down the side street between Carlton’s and the grocery store. Half a block away, he saw her at the Jeep door. He jogged to her side and found her stabbing the key at the door lock, but her hands shook so badly she kept missing the slot. Her teeth chattered. He couldn’t tell if she was cold or in shock. He looped his left arm around her shoulders and reached for her key with his right hand. “Let me unlock it, Alex.”
She let the key ring fall into his hand. Just looking at her, he was convinced she would have collapsed before she succeeded in unlocking the door.
“I’ll drive you home, baby.” He guided her around the rear of the Jeep. Twice, her knees buckled, but he held her against him and kept her from falling. She made an attempt to lift her leg to slide onto the seat, but her foot raised only inches and she stumbled. “I feel so weak,” she murmured. Holding her waist, he slid his right arm beneath her knees and lifted her onto the seat.
He took away the wad of bloody tissue she held to her nose. The bleeding appeared to be subsiding. He had a clean handkerchief in his pocket. He pulled it out and tucked it into her hand, then guided it to her nose. The temperature was cool, but perspiration beaded on her forehead. He reached for her wrist and felt her pulse. It was racing faster than he could count, but probably was slower than it had been a few minutes earlier.
“Miller again, huh?” He said it in an attempt to break into her trance. He passed his hand up and down in front of her eyes and to his relief, she blinked. “You’re gonna be okay. Don’t move.”
He closed the door and rounded the vehicle to the driver's side, looking around for any sign of the logger. As he scooted behind the wheel, Alex’s head rolled backward against the headrest. He reached over her, pulled the seat belt across her body and latched it into place.
He started up the Jeep, eased onto the street and drove toward the city limits, debating if he should take her to the ER at the town’s small hospital.
As they neared the turn leading to the hospital, she mumbled, “Don’t take me there.”
Not knowing her reasons, he complied with her request.
Twenty minutes later, they were at her house. He found her garage door opener clipped onto the sunvisor and drove the Jeep into the garage. He supported her as she climbed the stairs leading to a door, which put them first inside a utility room, then a short hallway. To the right lay the kitchen, but to the left was another doorway through which he could see a king size bed. She veered toward the bedroom.
Two cats trotted out from somewhere and began to meow and pace. She spoke to them and they accompanied her as Doug walked her through a huge luxurious bedroom, into what he thought would be a bathroom. It turned out to be an ex
ercise room with several pieces of equipment, but it opened to a bathroom, which was also huge, with walls of mirrors.
She wilted to a vanity chair and he opened cabinet doors looking for a washcloth. When he found one, he soaked it with warm water, knelt beside her chair and she allowed him to bathe drying blood from her face. She winced as he accidentally brushed her injury and he apologized.
Taking her chin in his fingers, he gently examined her eye and her swollen, reddened cheek. While the skin around her eye would turn dark, the eye itself didn't appear to be injured. God knew, he had seen worse. “Looks like your cheekbone absorbed the brunt of the blow. The skin’s not broken.”
It was then he saw the long, aged scar that began at her forehead and followed her hairline down the side of her head until it disappeared above her ear. Her hair hid it.
“Car wreck,” she said. “A long time ago.”
This was no time for that conversation. He placed his fingers under her chin and tipped her head backward. “Open your mouth.”
She frowned, but allowed him to look inside her mouth.
“You've got a cut inside your cheek and another small one on the side of your tongue. You should rinse it with some salt water.”
She frowned again and whimpered like a child. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and hold her, but he stifled the urge. Instead, he cupped her nape in his palm and brushed her cheek with his thumb. “I don't think anything's broken, but it looks like you're gonna have a helluva shiner. Ice is what you need.”
He moved on to washing blood off her hands with the washcloth. “How about a clean shirt or a robe or something?”
She looked down at her bloodstained shirt and a tear slipped down her cheek. Her chin trembled and more tears leaked, but she didn’t break down.
He mentally called Miller a few more choice names “Hey, now. Don’t cry. It’s all over.” Swallowing around the tight knot in his throat, he kept his voice soft. “I’ll help you take it off.”
Spotting a thick robe hanging beside the shower door across the room, he got to his feet, grabbed it and laid it on the vanity. He worked her arms out of her shirt sleeves as if she were a child, then eased the garment over her head. Blood stained the slope of her breasts and a white lace bra. For a moment, he thought of washing it off, but decided to leave that to her. He willed his eyes away from her chest, picked up the robe and placed it around her shoulders. “Feel better?”
“I—I need some privacy,” she said.
“Sure.” He started backing out of the bathroom. “I’ll just go make you an ice pack for that eye....Just yell if you need me.”
In the kitchen, he removed the pistol from his waistband and laid it on the breakfast bar, followed by the cartridges from his pocket. Oh, yeah, he and Alex were gonna have a conversation about the gun, but later. He searched in her cupboards, found a bowl and filled it with ice cubes from the refrigerator door.
He was making a bundle of ice cubes from a dishtowel when he heard her approaching from behind. He turned and saw her from the hallway holding a large wet towel to her eye. She had changed into gray sweats. She sat down at the breakfast bar, leaned on her elbows and covered her face with the towel.
He carried over the little bundle of ice cubes and took a seat beside her. “This will do more good than a warm towel.”
She took it from him, leaned on her elbows again and covered her eye with the cold pack. “I’m okay now.”
“What about a doctor? If you don’t want to go to the ER here in town, I’ll drive you somewhere.”
She shook her head, rose from the stool and walked to the living room sofa. She eased down to the seat, her shoulders hunched forward as she hung her head, holding her face against the ice cubes. She looked even more vulnerable than she had that morning after the fire. He sat down beside her and looped his arm around her shoulder, then finally gave in to his urges and hugged her to his chest. “I'm sorry, sweetheart. I want to help you. What can I do?”
“I’m so thirsty,” she murmured. “Can you get me a Coke with some ice cubes?”
“You bet.” Doug set her away and returned to the cupboard for a glass. He found cans of Diet Coke in the fridge. He also noticed there was food in the refrigerator. He sat down beside her again and handed her the glass of Coke, watched as she sipped and winced.
“I think I need to go to bed,” she said.
He thought so, too, and he ached to lie down beside her and hold her. “I could stay.”
She shook her head. “I just want to go to sleep.”
He didn’t want to add stress by arguing with her. “I’ll call Pete and ask him to come up and get me.”
“You don’t have to. You can take my Jeep. I won’t need it until tomorrow.”
If he had to leave her, that was the most practical thing to do. “You sure?”
She nodded.
He had seen a notepad on the kitchen counter near the phone. He returned to the counter and wrote his phone number on it. “This is my number. You’ll call me if you need something, won’t you?”
He looked at the gun and debated what to do about it. Finally, he left it where it was and picked up her key ring he had placed beside it.
“Those papers Kenny had,” she said. “Did you see them?”
Doug shrugged. “I didn’t look.” God, he hated to leave her. “Look, I can take you to Ted’s apartment. Or I’ve got an extra bedroom at my house. It’s got a brand new mattress.”
She stiffened and looked at him, drilled him with her eyes.
“Hey, believe me, you’ll be safe.”
“Don’t trouble yourself worrying about me,” she said.
Another misstep. He couldn’t seem to do anything right around her, even when he saved her ass from what could have been a tragedy. He sighed. “Well...keep ice on that eye.” He stood up and started for the door.
“Doug?”
He stopped and turned back. Her eyes were just as blue, but one was almost swollen shut. Her expression was not as defiant and daring as usual. Instead, it was soft and feminine. His knees turned to gelatin. He didn't know if it was from the adrenaline subsiding or because it was the first time he had ever heard her say his name.
She reached for his hand. “I—I thank you. For helping me.”
His heart melted. His throat constricted. “You call if you need me,” he choked out.
Chapter 15
As Doug drove away, the image of Alex battered and alone haunted him. He had known his share of physical abuse over the years, first from years of combat on the football field, then from his experience as a street cop. While he had never been beaten up badly, he had taken blows and remembered how they felt.
His memory swerved to domestic abuse cases he had investigated, where women had been knocked around by men or even beaten to within inches of their lives. Physical abuse did more to women than the obvious physical injuries. It did something to their psyches. Alex McGregor might be strong and tough, but she wasn't made of steel. Being hit hard enough to black her eye and bloody her nose would affect her deeply.
His thoughts shifted to Miller. Doug had learned long ago never to underestimate a bully with a point to prove and a propensity for violence. Miller was capable of anything when threatened. In the future, in the place where he planned to rebuild his life and lead a quiet existence, Doug would have to watch his back and he regretted that.
A part of him wished he had never met Alex. Every time he went near her, something over-the-top happened. He swore aloud as a tire dropped into a pothole and the whole Jeep wrenched and squeaked. A Jeep was damn sure the ideal rig for navigating her driveway.
Forty-five minutes later, he drove it into his barn.
As he closed the swinging doors, he looked across the valley and saw her lights against the black mountainside. He went inside. When he had left her his phone number, at the same time, he had memorized hers. While it was fresh in his mind, he went to the front bedroom he had turned into his office and wr
ote the seven digits in his address book. He studied them a moment, then looked out the window. His office’s one window had the same view of her lights as his living room and kitchen.
She had to be afraid up there in that barn of a house. She had to know that if Miller decided to settle the score, he could do it in her isolated house and no one would be the wiser until it was too late. Dithering halted, Doug punched in her number.
She answered in her whiskey-pitched voice on the first ring. Doug closed his eyes and pictured her beside him in bed, that voice whispering in his ear. The intimacy they had shared when she allowed him to remove her shirt came back and in his mind’s eye he could see her breasts covered by lace. God knew this was no time to think of sex, but that was how she affected him. “I’m home now. I can see your lights are still on. I just want to be sure you're okay.”
“How did you get my number?”
“I confess. I stole it off your phone.”
He waited for a sarcastic retort, but instead, she said in a soft voice, “You can see my lights? From your house?”
“I’m looking at them now, out my window. Are you sure you don't want to go to a doctor?”
“I’ll be fine. I just won't be dropping in on any important meetings for a while. Don’t you live across the valley?”
“It’s almost a straight line from my house to yours.”
“I didn’t know that.”
Heartened, he said, “I look every night.”
When she didn’t reply, he said, “Hey, I thought you were going to bed. Aren’t you done in?”
“I couldn't sleep now. I’m doing some work on my computer. I’ll turn in pretty soon.”
“Alex, do...do you ever get lonely?”
Seconds passed before she answered, almost in a whisper. “Sometimes. Doesn’t everybody?”
“The next time you feel like some company, maybe you could give me a call. Just to talk.”
Another long silence amplified the low hum on the phone line. The next sound was a muffled sob and a sniffle he could tell she had tried to hide. “I have to go now. Good night.”
The Love of a Stranger Page 15
