Appalachian Abduction (Lavender Mountain Book 2; Appalachian Magic)

by Debbie Herbert

  “I can’t read you,” she admitted. “Half the time you act like there are other explanations for the shootings, and the other half, you’re extremely cautious.”

  “Blame my army training. I imagine all possible scenarios and then prepare for the worst.”

  Curiosity sparked to learn more about James. “What was it like in Afghanistan?”

  His fingers drummed the dashboard as he considered his answer. “Lot of extremes. Hot during the day, cold at night. Periods of boredom followed by bursts of danger.”

  “I understand the boredom–danger thing. Lots of that with undercover work.” Charlotte wondered if the experience had left him scarred. “What did you do in the army?”

  “IED patrol.”

  She gave a low whistle. The man had put his life on the line with every mission. Lucky for him, he’d returned home in one piece. “Must have been tough. Do the memories ever bother you, now that you’re home?” Charlotte bit her lip. This was none of her business. “Never mind. I have no right to ask. I thank you for your service.”

  He was silent for so long, she didn’t think he was going to respond, and she stretched her right leg, trying to find a position that didn’t hurt.

  “It only bothers me sometimes at night,” James said quietly. “Insomnia’s a bitch.”

  * * *

  JAMES SHOOK OUT two of Miss Glory’s herbal pills on the kitchen table along with a glass of sassafras tea. “Drink up.”

  “I’m fine. My leg’s not—”

  “Stop it. I’ve seen you wince whenever you stand up or sit down. The way you favor your right leg. Are you always this stubborn?”

  Charlotte picked up one of the pills and held it in her palm, frowning. “I don’t like feeling out of control. Like I could fall asleep and not wake up when there’s a possibility of an intruder lurking.”

  “Remember that insomnia I mentioned? I’ll be up all night.” He felt his mouth twitch. “Let my problem at least benefit you.”

  She bit her lip, obviously debating the wisdom of taking the pills. “What the hell.” In one swift motion, she popped them in her mouth and washed them down with tea. “I don’t have much faith they’ll be that strong, anyway.”

  “Hope they work. Others swear by her herbs and roots.” He knew how to make her see it his way. “Besides, get a good night’s rest, and you can work longer and harder tomorrow.”

  “Every day Jenny spends with that ring is torture for Tanya and Jenny. I never forget that. Not for a minute.”

  “I don’t doubt your dedication. One night’s sleep will help you think clearer, and means you can bring her and the others home sooner. I saw the photos on your laptop. The ones of those girls for sale.” Disgust roiled in his stomach. Hungry as he’d been, he started regretting the fried chicken and gravy.

  “When did you look at my laptop? How did you—”

  “When we were back at the cabin.”

  “Seems like I’m not the only one with a suspicious nature.”

  “Comes with the territory in our line of work. Never know when it might save our ass.”

  She shook her head, a bemused smile lighting her green-blue eyes. “Next you’ll have me thanking you for doubting me.”

  “Good. Now let me use my influence to get you to shower and then let me take a look at your injuries.”

  A tinge of red crept up her neck and face. “I can take care of myself.”

  “A little late for modesty. The first time we met, you weren’t wearing pants.”

  Charlotte groaned and lifted her hands to her face. “I forgot about that.”

  He hadn’t. Sure, at the time, he’d been a little distracted by the gun she’d aimed at him, but yeah, he’d noticed the bare, shapely legs. James rose from the table. “Go on. I’ll see to cleaning up.”

  Charlotte rose, and again a slight wince crossed her face.

  “I’ve got aspirin,” he noted. “You don’t have to strictly rely on Miss Glory’s home remedies.”

  “Might as well give them time to work. I’ll see how I feel after a bath.”

  Head held high, Charlotte left the kitchen, and then paused by the den’s fireplace mantel. “What’s this?” she asked, picking up a wooden carving of a deer and examining it closely.

  “Something I whittled,” he admitted, feeling self-conscious. “It’s a hobby, kind of relaxing.”

  “This is beautiful,” she murmured. “How long did it take you to make this?”

  “Hard to say. I whittled on it here and there in the evenings.”

  “It would take me a lifetime,” she said with a laugh, placing the wooden deer back on the mantel. “Besides having zero artistic talent, I’m never accused of being a patient person.”

  Charlotte headed to the hallway. Despite the stiff set of her back and shoulders, it was obvious that the injury bothered her.

  Whether she was willing or not, if the cuts showed infection, he was taking her to a real doctor.

  James stacked the paper plates and napkins, pausing at the sound of running water. Right now, Charlotte was stripping. In his house. Just down the hall. He pictured her curvy body stepping into the steamy tub and groaned. It had been way too long since he’d been with a woman.

  All his nights were long, but this one might be the longest yet. Resolutely, he put up the leftover mashed potatoes and green beans. He’d get through it. He’d been through much worse.

  James settled on the couch and fired up his laptop. Five minutes later, he’d confirmed that Charlotte worked for the Atlanta PD. By the time she emerged, he’d flipped on the television and attempted to watch a basketball game, but his mind was focused elsewhere.

  Charlotte cleared her throat and entered the room. “This is silly, but if you must, you can see that the cuts are fine. And my knee’s only a little swollen.”

  Her skin was damp and pink, and she tugged at the bottom of the oversize T-shirt that barely covered her underwear. James stifled his amusement. How could such a hard-ass cop be so shy?

  “Come here,” he said hoarsely.

  She advanced to within a couple of feet and turned to the side. Slashes of jagged crimson marred the otherwise smooth, pink flesh of her leg.

  James swallowed hard. “Doesn’t appear to be infected. Have a seat. I’ll apply some of Miss Glory’s balm and put a bandage on it.”

  “I can do it myself.”

  He didn’t bother arguing, just picked up the antiseptic from the coffee table and applied some to a pad of cotton. “I’ll be gentle.”

  “You’d better be.”

  She sat down beside him and angled her body on her left hip, leaning her elbow on the sofa’s arm. Although she hissed as he applied the antiseptic to her head wound and cuts, she didn’t say a word in protest. He opened the jar of balm from Miss Glory and dabbed it on with his index finger, barely grazing the torn flesh. Quickly he put on the gauze bandage. “All done.” Damn if his voice wasn’t several octaves deeper.

  Charlotte nodded and sat up straight. “Thank you,” she said simply. “I feel better already. I can’t believe it, but those herbal pills really work.” She gave a lopsided, loopy grin. “I’m getting drowsy.”

  He wished he could say the same. Instead, every cell in his body pulsed with energy, acutely aware of the beautiful woman who stared at him with such gratitude.

  “Not too early to go to bed,” he suggested.

  Bed. More images played in his head of Charlotte sleeping across the hall in his guest bedroom.

  She scooted sideways and lay down. “I could fall asleep right here,” she murmured, wiggling her toes. Even her pink-painted toenails were adorable. As if of their own volition, his hands wrapped around her arches and he massaged her feet.

  “Um, that’s so nice.” Her voice was husky and deep, and her eyelids fluttered.

  “Y
ou must be wiped out.”

  “That and the pills.” Her eyes widened, and she struggled to a half-seated position. Her thin T-shirt twisted, revealing a pair of lacy panties.

  James reached for the afghan and covered her bare legs. A man could only take so much temptation, but he hadn’t sunk so low as to take advantage of a half-drugged stranger. Hard to believe he’d known her only a day. Charlotte Helms had stormed into his life like some badass angel of justice, shaking up his quiet, orderly world.

  “Do you have a girlfriend or—” her face tightened “—a wife?”

  “Nope.” He’d had a fiancée this time last year, but Ashley had brushed him off with a Dear John letter while he was in Afghanistan. Not that he could blame her frustration with his absence, but it rankled. Last he’d heard, she was already engaged to another man.

  “What about you?” He’d assumed she wasn’t married, but what did he really know about her?

  She snorted. “Hell, no.”

  Irrational relief flowed over him.

  “My profession doesn’t exactly lend itself to maintaining close personal relationships,” she continued. “Haven’t even seen my own parents in months.”

  “That must be hard.”

  “Yeah, it’s tough.” Charlotte sighed and ran a hand through her long hair. “It never used to bother me, but lately...”

  “Lately what?” he prompted.

  “After seeing the hell Tanya’s going through with her missing daughter—it kind of makes you stop and think. You shouldn’t take family for granted.”

  “I get it. My dad and one of my sisters died last year. Made me appreciate Lilah—she’s my younger sister.” Lately he’d even been talking more to his estranged mother. Something he never thought he’d do after she’d run off with another man when he was in high school and had left them all high and dry.

  “Lilah Tedder,” she murmured, gently probing the knot by her right temple.

  “She’s Lilah Sampson now. Married the sheriff.”

  Charlotte snapped her fingers. “Thought it sounded familiar. There was a serial killer up here and—”

  “Yeah, she was lucky to escape. My dad and Darla weren’t so fortunate.”

  James shut down. He never talked about the incident. What good did it do to rehash old sorrow?

  “Must have been tough,” she whispered. “And then to find out the real killer was—”

  “I’d rather not discuss it,” he said, removing her feet from his lap and standing up.

  “Of course, I understand. It’s just that—”

  Annoyed, James strode to the window and pushed aside an inch of curtain. A strong whipping wind battered barren treetops.

  “Sorry. I’m not normally one to pry. Let’s blame it on Miss Glory’s herbs.”

  “I’m sure you read all about the case in the Atlanta papers. Heard it made the national news for a whole fifteen minutes.” Even he heard the bitterness in his own voice. “Old news,” he added dismissively.

  Charlotte pushed aside the afghan and struggled to her feet. “How about we make some coffee? I’m good to pull my weight for a night shift. You’ve had a long day, too.”

  “Not necessary. We weren’t followed. Besides, I never sleep much. No sense in you staying up, too.”

  “I never sleep well, either,” she admitted.

  He fixed his gaze on her. She’d probably witnessed a lot of the dark side of life and had her own demons, as well.

  “Go on to bed. I’ve got this.”

  She yawned and cocked her head to the side. “Wake me up in about four hours?”

  “Sure.” He wouldn’t, but he feared she’d never agree to sleep otherwise.

  “Okay, then. Good night.”

  Charlotte started to turn, and then hesitated. Instead of leaving him, she slowly walked toward him, an uncertain gleam in her teal eyes.

  She wasn’t...surely, no. But she kept walking until she stood close enough that he could smell the soap from her recent bath.

  “Thank you,” she breathed, standing on her tiptoes.

  Her lips pressed under his jaw, along the side of his neck. Before he could react, it was over. Bemused, he watched as she left the room. It was as though her kiss had sealed his fate. He would do everything in his power to help her find the traffickers. Whether it was for Jenny and the other trapped children, or whether it was for this maddening woman—or some combination of both—James couldn’t say. Indeed, such soul-searching was pointless. He’d thrown in his lot with the charismatic Charlotte.

  It was going to be a long, long night.

  Chapter Five

  James surveyed her efforts with a critical eye. “You didn’t quite get it all,” he pronounced, tucking an errant lock of hair into the knitted hat. His nearness and touch made her breath hitch, although he appeared unfazed by the contact. “Don’t need your flaming hair blowing in the wind like a red flag.”

  “Does it really matter? They’re bound to hear your four-wheeler before they see anything.”

  “With any luck, the roar of the wind will drown out most of the noise.”

  Despite last night’s intimacy, this morning, James was all business. Charlotte inwardly cringed, thinking of the unsolicited kiss she’d planted on him. Totally uncharacteristic of her. She recalled Miss Glory’s whispered words at the shop yesterday. “Open your heart.” Yeah, she’d understood the older woman. Probably fancied herself the local matchmaker.

  James swung a long leg over the ATV and pointed to the back seat. “Hop on,” he commanded.

  Charlotte climbed onto it, grateful that her injuries had improved leaps and bounds overnight. Only a slight soreness remained. Once she brought Jenny home—and she would—she’d pay Miss Glory another visit and present her with a big tip.

  With a lurch, James gassed the ATV, and she wrapped her arms around his waist to keep from falling. Lordy, he felt good—strong, and warm, and reliable. She resisted an impulse to bury her head against his broad back. What was it about him that drew her so? No sense falling for someone who appeared to temporarily be her partner. Emphasis on temporarily. She’d been burned before mixing business with pleasure. Danny had proven to be a rat bastard. Once this case was over, she’d return to Atlanta, and James Tedder would continue on with his relatively peaceful life here on Lavender Mountain. With no complications from her.

  The wind was brutal in the early morning chill. Luckily James possessed more than one pair of gloves, and she’d donned the loaner ones. How cold must he be? His body shielded her from the worst of the wind.

  The four-wheeler jostled and righted itself as they drove off his cabin’s property and entered the main trail leading to Falling Creek.

  Finding the exact spot where she’d been shot at and searching for the left-behind shell casings wasn’t likely, but they had to try. She hoped the guards were still there at the house she’d spotted, although unarmed this time. If nothing else, this morning’s excursion would prove she’d told the truth about the shooting, and that there was nothing accidental about it.

  Charlotte kept her eyes glued to the passing trees and brush until she spotted the clearing where she’d run off the trail. Another thirty yards or so, and they’d be in the general area. She leaned to the side. “Slow down,” she called out to James. “We’re close.”

  Close enough to also see the line of mansions on the Falling Rock bluff.

  He let up on the gas and swerved off the beaten path, parking the ATV in a copse of pines, right under a handmade sign stapled to a tree. “Private Property. Trespassers will be shot on sight.”

  “These people are crazy,” she commented, pointing to the sign.

  “Yeah, you trespassed. That tends to get people shot.”

  She hopped off and pulled the binoculars from her backpack.

  The two guards were there at t
he same house, but apparently hadn’t heard their approach as they conversed with one another.

  “See anything?” James asked.

  Charlotte pointed to the mansion in question and handed him the binoculars.

  “They could be gardeners,” he commented. “One’s holding a rake and the other a hoe.”

  “Bet you could watch them an hour and you wouldn’t see either of them using those tools. They’re props.”

  “We’ll keep an eye out. Where should we start looking for the casing?”

  She sighed. “Here’s as good a spot as any.”

  They separated and began combing the grounds. Charlotte hugged her arms to her waist, eyes focused on finding the small object amid the dead leaves and brown twigs. You’d think it would stand out, but they were hampered by being unable to pinpoint the exact location of the shooting. Too bad she hadn’t thought to leave some sort of mark behind. That way, they could estimate how far away the shooter was when he fired his weapon.

  “Found one,” James called.

  “Really? Damn, you must have eagle eyes.” She scurried over.

  James held it up to the sun, squinting at it a moment before dropping the casing into a small plastic baggie.

  “What now?” she asked through chattering teeth. “Keep watching the guards?” She lifted her binoculars. They were still talking, gesturing broadly with their hands, the garden implements dangling uselessly by their sides. The men started pushing and shoving. “We’re in luck today. They’re too busy fighting each other to notice us.”

  “Then let’s push it. We’ll ride down the trail—it turns and runs perpendicular to the houses.”

  “What if they see us?”

  He shrugged. “They’ll just think we’re out on a joyride.”

  “In this weather?” she asked skeptically.

  “I want to gauge their reaction for myself.”

  Some small part of him still had reservations about her story. “You’re the one sitting in front. If they shoot—”

  “Exactly.” James stuffed the baggie in his coat pocket and climbed on the ATV.

  Charlotte lifted the binoculars one last time. The guards were throwing actual punches. Good to know the idiot thugs were so easily distracted. She tilted the binoculars upward, scanning the windows.