by Unknown
Her throat ached. Would she ever be the free spirit she had once been? How could she when she was trapped like this? She had been someone who danced in the rain, sang in the shower at the top of her lungs, ran barefoot through the grass, talked easily with anyone she met, spoke without thinking, laughed until she cried, and loved with all her body and soul.
Was that woman gone?
The ringing of her cell phone startled her. She wasn’t used to the generic ring she’d changed it to. Somehow it seemed too harsh, too loud. She dug the phone out of her purse and looked at the screen. Mark. Of course.
She answered the phone in a flat tone. “What do you want?”
“I’m checking in on my investment.” He sounded hearty and smug, and she wanted to stab him. Multiple times. “And you, my dear, are my biggest investment.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. Screw you. “You’ve talked with me. Now you can leave me alone.”
Mark’s voice hardened. “Watch your attitude, Natasha. I saved you by keeping you in my employment. That could change.”
“What can I do for you?” She hated how resigned she sounded.
“The Seattle show you told me about will be here before you know it,” he said. “I want to make sure you’re prepared.”
Her dry throat felt scratchy as she spoke. “Everything is in place, like usual.”
“We are going to ship more prints and statuettes than ever before,” he said. “We’ll be moving a lot of product.”
“That’s wonderful.”
He didn’t miss the sarcasm in her voice. “I told you to watch it, Natasha.”
She opened her eyes and stared at an antique stained glass lamp. “Is there anything else?”
“Know that I will always have an eye on you.” Mark’s cold statement caused her to shiver. “If you go to any law enforcement agencies, I will find out. I will know every move you make.” His mood seemed to lift as he added. “I’m sending you a message to show you I mean business.”
“That’s not necessary.” She swallowed as a chill ran through her. “You have my cooperation and you know I’m not going to cross you.”
“Consider it a reminder.” He disconnected the call.
Natasha found her breathing coming hard and fast as she leaned her back against the door. What was Mark going to do to make it clear how much power he had over her?
The door handle rattled and she nearly screamed. She pushed away from the door and spun to see Christie on the other side of the glass.
Christie smiled and gave a little wave.
At first Natasha felt a rush of relief that it wasn’t someone sent by Mark. But then her gut clenched. It was dangerous for anyone she loved to be near her.
Truth was, whether or not they were around her, they were in danger.
Natasha forced a smile, unlocked the door, and opened it.
“Good morning, dear cousin.” Christie came in with a grin and a whoosh of motion. “Are you open? It’s kind of dark in here.”
“Just walked in.” Natasha let the door fall shut with the happy jangle of bells before she flicked on the lights. She was going to rip down those damned bells. She followed her cousin to the antique chairs she kept for customers. “You look like you’re in a great mood.”
“Fantastic.” Christie spun in a circle and her turquoise skirt fanned out. Her glorious red hair lifted as she twirled. “Could life get any better?”
Yes, yes it could. Natasha’s lips trembled as she tried to broaden her smile. Mark could be tortured then killed by the cartel. Maybe while he was still alive the cartel would boil him in oil, drop him down an abandoned mineshaft, or bury him while he screamed. Maybe all of the choices, one after another.
Since when did I ever think like this? Of course the answer was, The moment my family and friends were threatened.
Natasha sat on one of the antique chairs and looked up at Christie while she danced. “What fantastic new thing is going on now?”
“Absolutely nothing.” Christie laughed and dropped into the other chair, and set her pink purse on the floor. She pushed up to her elbows the sleeves of the cardigan she wore over a blouse. It was barely the middle of January and it was mild enough that one didn’t need much more than a sweater. “I never dreamed I could be so happy. Trace and my baby, my new life, and the fact that you’re here and I can see you anytime I want.”
“It is all wonderful.” Natasha found herself falling into her role of happy cousin. “I think you’re right, life couldn’t be any better for you.” Except that the threat of death is hanging over your head if I screw up.
Christie perched on the edge of the chair. “Now if you would find the love of your life, everything would be perfect.” She gave a sly smile. “I heard you ran into Brooks while you were in Denver.”
Heat rose to Natasha’s face as thoughts rushed through her mind—how had Christie found out so quickly? Did she know about Natasha and Brooks sleeping together?
Natasha kept the smile on her face. “That was quick. News flies around here.”
“Trace stopped by Brooks’s place yesterday afternoon.” Christie grinned. “Brooks mentioned he ran into you, and he joined you for drinks.” She leaned forward in the chair. “I think he’s sweet on you.”
Natasha tried to throw it off with a laugh. “Does anyone say ‘sweet on you’ anymore?”
Christie fell back in the chair, her forearms resting on the chair arms, and she giggled. “That is a little antiquated, but I think in this case it’s true. He asked about you and if we had seen you since you returned. Trace said Brooks acted like he was concerned for you. I think the man was just digging for more information because he likes you.”
Natasha shook her head. “Nope. He just knows you and I are related and he wants to make sure I’m okay. He said as much, in a brotherly way.” The truth was there had been nothing sibling-like between them since the first moment he’d saved that woman in the parking lot. “And then there was the fact that he rescued me from another accident. More like he rescued a woman.”
Christie’s eyes widened. “He didn’t mention that.”
Natasha sighed. “A woman walked in front of me in a parking lot, and when I slammed on my brakes I skidded right toward her. If Brooks hadn’t been there to get her out of the way, things could have been very bad.”
“Yikes.” Christie shook her head. “I still remember what Grandpa told you.”
Natasha gave a little smile. “That I waste all of my good luck getting out of my bad luck.” Isn’t that the truth?
“That’s it.” Christie reached out and put her hand on Natasha’s knee. “You need to take care of yourself. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.”
Tears ached at the back of Natasha’s eyes. “You know I feel the same about all of you. I would do anything for you.”
Even kill for you?
Christie frowned. “Is something wrong?”
Natasha shook her head. “I’m a little tired from the five days in Denver. It was busy and physically exhausting.” Not to mention emotionally exhausting.
Christie didn’t look like she believed Natasha was telling her everything, but only asked, “How were sales?”
“Very good.” Natasha tried to act more natural. “Exciting in fact.”
“Tell me.” Christie smiled. “What did you sell?”
“Nearly everything I took with me.” Natasha talked about the original oil paintings, stained glass pieces, and other things. She skipped over the prints and statuettes.
Christie looked around the store and spotted the pair that Natasha hadn’t hidden like she’d planned to. “What about those things you hate?” Christie pointed at the resin cowboy and the matching resin Native American. “Those statuettes.”
Natasha shrugged. “They all sold early, as usual.”
“Isn’t that weird?” Christie stared at the pair. “They’re so ugly.”
Uglier than you know. Natasha pushed loose strands of hair from her
face in a nervous movement. “They’re cheaper than any other item I carry, and for resin they aren’t bad.” But I hate them enough to use them as bats and swing them at both Mark’s and Hector’s heads.
“I stopped to invite you to our house this coming Sunday.” Christie smiled. “To save me from incredible boredom and all that testosterone while the men watch the Divisional Playoffs.” She gave Natasha another sly look. “Brooks will be there.”
Natasha’s skin went cold. These were the kinds of things that would come up and she would have to say no to. Not only would Trace be there, but another lawman, too.
Christie would be hurt if Natasha stopped coming around, but what else could she do? What kind of excuses could she make?
“You have no excuses.” Christie’s words jerked Natasha out of her thoughts. She stared at Christie, wondering how she could know, and then continue to answer unspoken questions. “I can see it in your eyes. You’re trying to think of some reason not to come.” She tilted her head to the side. “Although I’m not sure why.”
Natasha felt stiff and unmovable, like one of the resin statuettes. “I have so much to catch up on and—”
“That’s not it.” Christie shook her head. “You have plenty of time. Today’s Monday, so it’s a whole week away.” She studied Natasha. “Did something happen between you and Brooks that makes you not want to come?”
Natasha didn’t say anything for a moment. Would that be a good excuse? “Yes, that’s true.”
Christie cocked her head to the side. “Did you sleep with him?”
For the second time since Christie came, Natasha felt her face grow hot. When she didn’t reply, Christie said, “What happened?”
Natasha shrugged. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Since when did you start not telling me about things?” Christie looked hurt. “We’ve always talked about everything. We’ve never held anything back from each other. Have we?”
“No.” Natasha shook her head. “We never have.”
Christie was still frowning. “What’s different about now?”
Natasha shrugged. “It was a one-night thing. That’s it.”
“What did he do?” Christie clearly didn’t know what to think. “Did he hurt you somehow?”
“No, he didn’t.” Natasha shook her head. “I—I just can’t see him again.”
Christie appeared to be genuinely perplexed. “I don’t understand.”
“I don’t want to talk about it right now.” I can’t talk about it ever…unless Mark doesn’t exist anymore. “Another day, okay?” In about a thousand years. Natasha got to her feet. “I’d better get ready for my customers.”
“So you’re kicking me out.” Christie said the words quietly as she stood. “This isn’t like you.”
“I’m not kicking you out.” Natasha went to Christie and hugged her tight. Her cousin smelled good, like a sunny day and Jessica’s baby powder. Natasha leaned back as she held Christie by her upper arms. “Just give me a bit, okay?”
Christie nodded. “All right.” She took Natasha’s hands and squeezed them. “But it had better be sooner rather than later.”
Natasha squeezed Christie’s hands in return, and forced tears back as the backs of her eyes started to ache. “I love you, Christie.”
“I love you, too.” Christie hugged her again. “I’ll see you soon.”
With her purse slung over her shoulder, Christie walked to the front door of the shop. “I will drop by tomorrow.”
Natasha accompanied Christie to the entrance. Bells jangled as Christie opened the door. She stepped out and Natasha stood in the doorway to watch her cousin leave. When Christie reached the crosswalk, she gave Natasha a little wave before looking for traffic and stepping into the crosswalk.
Christie was almost halfway across the street when a car engine roared to life. Natasha cut her gaze to the vehicle that pulled away from the curb.
The driver gunned the engine. In the next moment, the car barreled down the street, picking up speed, and headed straight for Christie.
~~*~~
Brooks had sat in his truck for a good long time in the parking lot near Natasha’s shop. He riffled through one thought after another. He wasn’t sure it was a good idea to visit Natasha when she was so frightened.
Likely the best thing he could do was stay out of sight for now, and watch her place to see if she had any suspicious-looking visitors. He’d head into the pottery shop across the street first, and move from one spot to another as he kept watch.
For one moment he hesitated as he looked at the small blue velvet bag on the passenger seat. He waited a couple of heartbeats before he picked up the bag and stuffed it into his front jeans pocket. Maybe he’d see Natasha after all.
After he grabbed his Stetson and pulled the brim low on his head, he left his truck and rounded the corner of the building housing the pottery shop among other boutique stores. He hesitated when he saw Natasha standing in the doorway of her place as she watched Christie head toward the crosswalk.
Natasha had pulled her hair back from her face, just a few loose strands free. She crossed her arms over her chest as if holding something in, holding herself back from being her normal generous self.
The sound of a big engine jerked Brooks’s attention up the street. He narrowed his eyes as he saw a boxy brown ancient Volvo pulling away from the curb. From where Brooks stood, he could see the man behind the wheel, his features determined, his eyes staring straight ahead. Brooks moved away from the corner and to the sidewalk.
He glanced to the crosswalk in time to see Christie halfway across.
The car’s tires screeched as they spun and then the car shot down the street—headed toward Christie.
Brooks bolted at a dead run into the crosswalk just as Natasha screamed. He shoved Christie, who stumbled and fell to her hands and knees on the asphalt, but away from the car. Brooks tried to get out of the way of the oncoming vehicle, but it winged him in his left thigh.
Pain exploded in Brooks’s leg. The momentum knocked him into the street and he skidded partly on his belly and partly on the left side where his gun was holstered. More pain burned through him as the weapon buried itself into his side.
The old Volvo shot down the street. Brooks immediately looked for a license plate number, but the car didn’t have a plate. The left side of the rear fender was damaged and hung lower than the right side.
“Brooks.” Natasha knelt beside him, sounding frantic.
“Oh, God.” Christie was on his other side and he heard tears in her voice. “The car hit him.”
“It just clipped me.” Brooks pushed himself up, trying not to wince and show the amount of pain he was in. He put his arm around both Christie’s and Natasha’s shoulders, rushing them at the same time he hobbled to the sidewalk, pain shooting through his leg. “Get out of the street.”
Brooks stopped long enough to scoop up the pink purse Christie had dropped and his Stetson that had flown off when he’d gone down. He continued to glance over his shoulder, but the car didn’t return. They didn’t stop moving until they were inside Natasha’s store.
Tears rolled down Natasha’s cheeks as they insisted on helping him into a padded chair. Christie hadn’t stopped talking from the time they got to him in the street to the moment he sat in the chair.
“Are you all right?” She crouched beside the chair and he saw her wince when she touched the chair’s arm with her hand.
“I’m fine.” He felt like a car had mowed him down, which it pretty much had, but otherwise he was okay. “I need to make a quick call.”
He pulled his cell phone out of the holster on his belt, made the call to Sofia about the incident, and shoved the phone back in its holster. He needed to make other calls, but he’d do it as soon as the women were attended to.
Brooks frowned and took Christie’s wrist and saw the skin had been scraped from her palms, and they were bleeding in several places. “We need to get you cleaned up.”<
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He looked up and met Natasha’s teary gaze as he spoke to her. “Do you have any supplies on hand? We also need to get to a sink where we can clean Christie’s palms.” He looked at the hem of Christie’s skirt as she stood, and saw that was torn and spotted with blood. She had landed on her hands and knees. “Her knees, too.”
“I’m okay,” Christie said, but Natasha and Brooks ignored her protests.
Natasha appeared to be so distraught that he wasn’t sure she would be able to get a word out. She nodded and her voice was hoarse and choked with tears. “Follow me to the restroom. I do have hydrogen peroxide, Betadine, and an antibiotic ointment.” She headed to the back of the store as she spoke.
Brooks got up and balanced on one leg. His other hurt like a sonofabitch. He glanced at the front entrance. The closed sign was still up. Christie insisted on helping him walk to the restroom, even with her hands scraped raw.
They entered the restroom and Brooks guided Christie to the sink. While Natasha ran the water, he set his Stetson on a small corner table that had a vase of flowers and a couple of magazines.
Natasha tested the water with her fingers. “Cool, but not cold.” She pushed up Christie’s white cardigan sleeves and began rinsing off the pebbles and asphalt. The cardigan was dirty at the cuffs.
“This is the second time you’ve saved my life.” Christie’s eyes were glossy as she looked at Brooks. “How could I possibly thank you enough?”
“Bake those sour cream chicken enchiladas that are so damned good this Sunday during the playoffs.” He gave her a teasing look. He wanted to make her feel better, and he knew this would do it. “And how about your mother’s incredible red velvet cake for dessert?”
Christie smiled. “You’ve got it. I’ll have plenty of your favorite beer on hand, too.”
“I’d say we’re even.” He his gaze met Natasha’s as she cleaned Christie’s palms. Natasha looked away.
“I think I’d need to cook and bake for you for at least a year.” Christie flinched as Natasha tried to gently take gravel out of Christie’s palms. “Make that two years—one for taking that bullet and the second for saving me from being run down. I think maybe a third year because you were hit by the car.”
