Witness

by Beverly Barton

  When he lowered his mouth, brushing her lips with his, she turned her head to the side. But she still held him around the waist, her fingers biting into his broad back.

  “Eleven years ago, you weren’t much more than a girl. What you felt was puppy love. And I was a confused young man who didn’t have the foggiest idea what love was all about. But I was older and more experienced. I take the blame for everything.” Ashe kissed her cheek, then drew a damp line across to her ear. “We’re both all grown up now. Whatever happens between us, happens between equals. No regrets on either side. No apologies. I want you. And you want me.”

  She shook her head, needing to deny the truth. If she admitted she wanted him, she would be lost. If they came together again, for him it would be sex, but for her it would be love. Just like last time. She couldn’t have an affair with Ashe and just let him walk out of her life after the trial. She couldn’t give herself to him and risk having her heart broken all over again.

  “Please, let me get up, Ashe. I’m not ready for this.” She shoved against his chest. He remained on top of her, unmoving, his eyes seeking the truth of her words.

  Nodding his head, he lifted himself up and off her, then held out his hand. She accepted his offer of assistance, taking his hand and allowing him to pull her to her feet. She brushed the blades of grass and crushed leaves from her dress, redid the open buttons and straightened the loose strands of her hair.

  “I need to get back to work,” she said, not looking directly at him. “Let’s take this food back to the office with us. We’ll be safer there. We won’t be alone.”

  Without a word, Ashe gathered up their sandwiches, returning them to the paper bag. She was right. They’d both be a lot safer if they weren’t alone. He intended to do everything in his power to protect Deborah, to make sure no harm came to her. But could he protect her from what they felt for each other? From the power of a desire too powerful to resist?

  LATER THAT DAY Ashe stood in the doorway of Allen’s room watching Deborah help the boy with his homework. She played the part of his mother convincingly. He wondered how long she had substituted for Miss Carol. Ever since illness had sapped Miss Carol’s strength and she lived in constant fear the cancer would return?

  No one seeing Deborah and Allen together could deny the bond between sister and brother. Her whole life seemed to revolve around the boy, and he so obviously adored her.

  While Allen struggled with the grammar assignment, he eased his right hand down to stroke Huckleberry’s thick, healthy coat.

  “Remember, Allen, it’s rise, rose, risen,” Deborah said. “Do this one again.”

  Nibbling on the tip of his pencil eraser, Allen studied the sentence before him. “Hmm-hmm.”

  Ashe remembered how Deborah had struggled with algebra. When he had tutored her, downstairs at the kitchen table, she’d sat there nibbling on her eraser, a perplexed look on her face identical to Allen’s. Ashe had been the one who’d had trouble with grammar, and Deborah had helped him write more than one term paper.

  Gripping his pencil in his left hand, Allen scribbled the sentence across the sheet of notebook paper, then looked up at Deborah. “Is that right?”

  Checking his work, she smiled. “Yes, it’s right. Now go on to the next one.” She glanced up and saw Ashe. Her smile vanished. Standing, she moved her chair from Allen’s right side to his left, shielding him from Ashe’s view.

  Why had she moved? he wondered. It was as if she were protecting Allen. But from what? Surely not from him.

  Ashe walked into the room. Huckleberry lifted his head from the floor, gave Ashe a quick glance, recognized him as no threat and laid his head back down, his body pressed against Allen’s foot.

  “Hey, Ashe.” Allen looked up from his homework paper. “I’m almost finished here, then we can play a video game on the computer.”

  “Maybe Ashe doesn’t want to play,” Deborah said, standing up, placing her body between Ashe and her brother. “We’ve had a long day. Maybe he wants to read or watch TV alone for a while.”

  “I’m alone all the time in my apartment in Atlanta,” Ashe said. “I like being part of a family. Allen and I are pals. I think we enjoy doing a lot of the same things.”

  “Oh. I see.” Did he spend all his time in his Atlanta apartment alone? She doubted it. A man like Ashe wouldn’t be long without a woman. She pictured the entrance to his apartment. The thought of a revolving door flashed through her mind.

  “Your sister used to have a problem with algebra,” Ashe said, walking around Deborah to sit down in the chair she had vacated. “English grammar seems to be your downfall just like it was mine. I guess guys have a difficult time choosing the right words, huh?” Ashe glanced up at Deborah, who glared down at him.

  “I don’t have to sweat making good grades in anything except this.” Allen punched his paper with the tip of his pencil. “I’ve got three more sentences to go, then watch out, Indiana Jones!”

  Allen leaned over his desk, reading from his book. He jotted down the sentence, choosing the correct verb tense. Ashe watched the way his untutored handwriting spread across the page, like so much hen scratch. The boy’s penmanship was no better than his own. Another shortcoming a lot of guys had in common.

  Ashe noticed a crossword puzzle book lying on the edge of the desk. He loved working the really tough ones, the ones that often stumped him and stimulated his mind. He’d been a dud at English grammar, but he was a whiz at figuring out puzzles, even word puzzles.

  Ashe picked up the book. “Have you got an extra pencil?”

  Allen opened his desk drawer, retrieved a freshly sharpened number two and handed it to Ashe. “You like crossword puzzles, too?”

  “Love ’em.” Taking the pencil and sticking it behind his ear, Ashe opened the book, found the most complicated puzzle and studied it.

  He felt Deborah watching him. What the hell was the matter with her? “Are you planning on hanging around and cheering us on while we play Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade?”

  “No. I just want to make sure Allen finishes his homework.”

  “I’ll make sure he does. Go wash out your lingerie or something. Read a good book. Call your boyfriend.” Ashe’s expression didn’t alter as he named off a list of alternatives to standing guard over her brother.

  “I told you Deborah doesn’t have a boyfriend. She won’t give any guy the time of day.” Allen never looked up from his paper.

  Ashe glanced down at the puzzle. “What’s another word for old maid?”

  Allen smothered his laughter behind his hand, sneaking a peek at Deborah out of the corner of his eye.

  “Try the word smart,” Deborah said. “As in any smart woman dies an old maid, without having to put up with a man trying to run her life.”

  “Spinster.” Ashe acted as if he hadn’t heard Deborah’s outburst. Jerking the pencil from behind his ear, he printed the letters into the appropriate boxes.

  “Hey, you’re left-handed just like me,” Allen said, his face bursting into a smile.

  Deborah’s heart sank. No. She mustn’t panic. A lot of people were left-handed. There was no reason for Ashe to make the connection.

  “We seem to have a lot in common.” Ashe couldn’t explain the rush of emotion that hit him. Like a surge of adrenaline warning him against something he couldn’t see or hear, touch, taste or feel. Something he should know, but didn’t. And that sense of the unknown centered around Allen Vaughn. Ashe found himself drawn to the boy, in a way similar yet different from the way he’d been drawn to Deborah when they’d been growing up together.

  “Ashe, I… We need to talk,” Deborah said.

  He glanced up at her. Her face was pale. “Can’t it wait until later? Allen and I are looking forward to our game.”

  “This won’t take long.” She nodded toward the hallway.

  He laid down the puzzle book and pencil, stood up and patted Allen on the back. “You finish your homework while I see what Deborah wa
nts that’s so important it can’t wait.”

  “Hurry,” Allen said. “I’m almost through.”

  Deborah led Ashe out into the hallway, closing Allen’s bedroom door behind him. “Please don’t let Allen become too fond of you. He’s at an age where he wants a man around, and he seems to idolize you. He thinks you’re something special.”

  “So what’s the problem?” Ashe asked. “I like Allen. I enjoy spending time with him. Do you think I’m a bad influence on him?”

  “No, that isn’t it.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “If you two become close—too close—it’ll break his heart when you leave Sheffield. He’s just a little boy. I don’t want to see him hurt.”

  Ashe pinched her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her downcast eyes upward, making her look directly at him. “Who are you afraid will get too close to me? Who are you afraid will be brokenhearted when I leave? Who, Deborah? You or Allen?”

  She hardened her stare, defying him, standing her ground against the overwhelming emotions fighting inside her. “You won’t ever break my heart again, Ashe McLaughlin. I know you aren’t here to stay, that you’re in Sheffield on an assignment, just doing your job. But Allen is already forming a strong attachment to you. Don’t encourage him to see you as a…a…big brother.”

  “A father figure, you mean, don’t you? Allen needs a father. Why hasn’t Carol ever remarried and given him a father? Or why haven’t you married and given him a brother-in-law?”

  “I don’t think my personal affairs or my mother’s are any of your business.”

  “You’re right.” He released her chin.

  “Please don’t spend so much time with Allen. Don’t let him start depending on you. You aren’t going to be around for very long.”

  “What should I do to entertain myself at night?” he asked. “Should I play bridge with your mother and her friends? Should I watch the Discovery channel on TV downstairs in the library? Should I invite a lady friend over for drinks and some hanky-panky in the pool house? Or should I come to your bedroom and watch you undress and see your hair turn to gold in the moonlight? Would you entertain me to keep me away from Allen?”

  Her hand itched to slap his face. She knotted her palm into a fist, released it, knotted it again, then repeated the process several times.

  “If you hurt my…my brother, I’ll—”

  He jerked her into his arms, loving the way she fought him, aroused by the passion of her anger, the heat of her indignation. “I’m not going to hurt Allen. You have my word.”

  Ceasing her struggles, she searched his face for the truth. “And I don’t want to hurt you, Deborah. Not ever again. No matter what we’ve done to each other in the past, we don’t have to repeat our mistakes.”

  “You’re right,” she said breathlessly. “Do your job. Act as my bodyguard until the trial is over and the threats stop. There’s no need for you to become a temporary member of the family. None of us need a temporary man in our lives.”

  Was that what he was? Ashe wondered. A temporary man. Never a permanent part of anything. Just there to do a job. It hadn’t mattered before, that he didn’t have a wife or children. That his life held so little love, so little commitment. Why had being back in Sheffield changed all that? Being around families again, his family and Deborah’s, brought to mind all his former hopes and dreams. Dreams of living in one of the big old houses in Sheffield, of becoming a successful businessman, of showing this town how far he’d come—from the depths of white trash, from the McLaughlins of Leighton. And the biggest part of his dream had been the society wife and the children she’d give him. Children who would never know the shame he’d felt, would never face the prejudice he’d fought, would never be looked at as if they were nothing.

  “I’ll do my job. I’ll be careful not to let Allen become too attached to me. And I won’t come into your bedroom and make slow, sweet love to you. Not unless you ask.”

  He didn’t give her a chance to say a word. Turning, he marched down the hall, opened Allen’s door and walked in, never once looking back at Deborah.

  “Hell will freeze over, Ashe McLaughlin, before I ever ask you to make love to me again!” she muttered under her breath.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  A PASSEL OF hounds lay in the dirt yard surrounding the double-wide trailer. A brand-new cherry red Camaro, parked beside an old Ford truck, glistened in the morning sun. A long-legged, large-breasted brunette with a cigarette dangling from her lips flung open the front door and ushered three stair-step-size children onto the porch. Her voice rang out loud and clear.

  “Get your rear ends in the car. I ain’t got all morning to get you heathens to school.”

  The children scurried toward the Camaro. The woman turned around, surveyed Ashe from head to toe and grinned an I’d-like-to-see-what-you’ve-got-in-your-pants-honey kind of grin.

  Ashe leaned against the hood of the rented car he had parked several feet off the gravel drive leading to Lee Roy Brennan’s home. He eyed the smiling woman.

  “Well, hello.” She gave the youngest child a shove inside the car, never taking her eyes off Ashe. “You here to see Lee Roy?”

  “Yeah. Is he around?”

  “Could be.” She ran her hand down her hip, over the tight-fitting jeans that outlined her shapely curves. “Who wants to know?”

  “How about you go tell Lee Roy that Ashe McLaughlin wants to see him?”

  “Well, Mr. Ashe McLaughlin, you sure do look like you’re everything I ever heard you were.” She stared directly at his crotch, then moved her gaze up to his face. “Lee Roy says you been in the army. One of them Green Berets. A real tough guy.”

  Ashe glanced at the three children in the Camaro. People like this didn’t care what they said or did in front of their kids. He had vague memories of his old man cursing a blue streak, slapping his mother around and passing out drunk. Yeah, Ashe knew all about the low-class people he’d come from and had spent a lifetime trying to escape.

  “Go tell Lee Roy his cousin wants to see him,” Ashe said.

  The woman’s smile wavered, her eyes darting nervously from Ashe to the trailer. “Yeah, sure. He heard you was back in these parts.”

  Ashe didn’t move from his propped position against the hood of his car while Lee Roy’s wife went inside the trailer. Three pairs of big brown eyes peered out the back window of the Camaro. Ashe waved at the children. Three wide, toothy smiles appeared on their faces.

  “Hey, cousin. What’s up?” Lee Roy Brennan stepped out onto the wooden porch connected to his trailer, his naked beer belly hanging over the top of his unsnapped jeans.

  “Just paying a social call on my relatives.” Ashe lowered his sunglasses down on his nose, peering over the top so that his cousin could see his eyes. Ashe had been told that he possessed a look that could kill. Maybe not kill, he thought, but intimidate the hell out of a person.

  “You run them kids on to school, Mindy.” Lee Roy swatted his wife’s round behind.

  She rubbed herself against the side of his body, patting him on his butt before she sauntered off the porch and strutted over to the car. She gave Ashe a backward glance. Although he caught her suggestive look in his peripheral vision, he kept his gaze trained on Lee Roy.

  “Come on in and have a cup of coffee. Johnny Joe just got up. He’s still in his drawers, but he’ll be glad to see you.”

  Standing straight and tall, Ashe accepted his cousin’s invitation. Lee Roy slapped Ashe on the back when they walked inside the trailer.

  “Didn’t think I’d ever see you around these parts again. Not after the way old man Vaughn run you out of the state.”

  Ashe removed his sunglasses, dropped them into the inside pocket of his jacket and glanced over at the kitchen table where Johnny Joe, all five feet eight inches of him, sat in a wooden chair. Swirls of black hair covered his stocky body, making him look a little like an oversize chimpanzee.

  “Heard you was back. W
hat the hell ever made you agree to hire on as a bodyguard for that Vaughn gal?” Johnny Joe picked up a mug with the phrase Proud to be a Redneck printed on it. “I figured you wouldn’t have no use for that bunch.”

  Lee Roy wiped corn flake crumbs out of a chair, then turned to lift a mug off a wooden rack. “Have a seat. You still like your coffee black?”

  “Yeah.” Ashe eyed the sturdy wooden chair, a few crumbs still sticking to the side. Sitting down, he placed his hands atop the table, spreading his arms wide enough apart so that his cousins could get a glimpse of his shoulder holster.

  Lee Roy handed Ashe a mug filled with hot, black coffee, then sat down beside his brother. “You’re working for some fancy security firm in Atlanta now, huh? Got your belly full of army life?”

  “Something like that,” Ashe said. “And private security work pays better, too.”

  The brothers laughed simultaneously. Ashe didn’t crack a smile.

  “You bleeding old lady Vaughn dry?” Johnny Joe asked. “After what her old man almost did to you, I figure you got a right to take ’em for all you can get.”

  Ashe glared at Johnny Joe, the hirsute little weasel. He hadn’t taken after the McLaughlin side of the family in either size, coloring or temperament. No, he was more Brennan. Little, dark, smart-mouthed and stupid.

  “Shut up, fool.” Lee Roy swatted his younger brother on his head. “Ashe wouldn’t have come back to take care of Deborah Vaughn just for the money.”

  “You doing her again, Ashe?” Johnny Joe snickered.

  Lee Roy slapped him upside his head again, a bit harder.

  “What the hell was that for?” Johnny Joe whined.

  “Don’t pay no attention to him.” Lee Roy looked Ashe square in the eye. “It’s good to see you again. We had some fun together, back when we was kids. You and me and Evie Lovelady.”

  “Yeah, we had some good times.” Ashe had liked Lee Roy better than any of his McLaughlin relatives and the two of them had sowed some pretty wild oats together. Fighting over Evie Lovelady’s favors. Getting drunk on Hunter McGee’s moonshine in the backseat of Lee Roy’s old Chevy. Getting into fights with Buck Stansell when he cheated at cards.