A Stolen Chance

by LaRoque, Linda

  She hadn’t set the fire at her house that killed Lauren. She was innocent. All she’d done was run from Dewayne and the additional pain he’d inflict if he found her. But she had set in motion the events that caused Lauren’s death. A sob rose in her throat. She covered her mouth to stifle the cry that threatened to escape. With her free hand, she clasped the bear fetish and closed her eyes. Warmth filled her hand and infused her body. A sense of well-being filled her. She sighed. Her head dropped back against the cushion of the seat. All would be well. She had to trust someone.

  The driver’s door opened. Shannon jumped and raised her head. Carson still wore a smile from his play with Hans. He handed her a bottle of water she assumed he’d retrieved from the bed of the truck, then set a bowl of water on the floor by the back seat, and Hans leapt up to lap at it.

  Carson popped the cap on his own water. “Do you need help with yours?”

  She twisted and broke the seal. “No, I’ve got it. Thanks.”

  They drank in silence for a few minutes, and then he set his drink in the cup holder. With his arm across the back of the seat, he turned to face her. He didn’t say a word, just waited.

  She studied the man beside her—the lean contours of his face, the expression of concern in his chocolate eyes. If she didn’t confide in him, would he be angry or disgusted, reject her? She mentally shook her head. No, he wasn’t the type. She drew a deep breath. The time was now or never.

  “I need your promise. That you’ll keep what I tell you to yourself.”

  “I’ll not betray your confidence, Shannon. You have my word.”

  She drew in a deep gulp of air and let it out. “The first thing I need to tell you…my name isn’t Shannon Langley. I’m Susan Lawton.”

  The words spilled from her like torrents of rain from a thundercloud. This storm had been brewing for a long time. Letting the words overflow eased the pain in her heart and lifted a burden from her shoulders. Carson didn’t move, didn’t interrupt, and his expression of interest didn’t change, so she continued. Telling him about her parents, her fear that they were worried, and her guilt over Lauren’s death released the tears she’d held inside. They flowed down her face unchecked. He handed her tissues, and she wiped the moisture away and continued.

  In the back seat, Hans whined in distress and nudged her with his nose. The animal’s empathy increased the flow. She turned and hugged the dog. Her voice breaking, she croaked, “I’m okay, boy.”

  Carson unhooked her seat belt and tugged her closer to him. He wrapped both arms around her, and she wept against his shirt front.

  One of his big hands cradled the side of her head against him while the other rubbed comforting circles on her back. “I knew you were in distress, sweetheart, but I had no idea how serious.”

  “You…you…won’t t-turn me in, will you?”

  “No.” She felt his lips in her hair. “Never. I’ll do everything in my power to help you. If Dewayne shows his face, I’ll kill him and take pleasure in doing so.”

  “Noooo. You’d go to jail. I don’t want that to…to happen. That’s one reason why I left Chicago. I feared my dad would kill him and end up in prison.”

  “Don’t worry. If I kill him it will be in your defense. After what he’s done to you, no jury on earth would convict me.”

  She wiped her face and blew her nose. “I like to think I could kill him myself if I had to.” The desire to see him dead raged in her heart. But did she have the strength to take his life? She liked to believe that if he tried to hurt her again, she could pull the trigger. She’d never know unless forced into the situation.

  The safety of Carson’s arms lulled her. Her eyes drifted closed, and she burrowed a little closer to the warmth of his muscled chest.

  His breath rustled her hair, setting goose bumps dancing on her skin. “White Bear will give you courage when you need it. I will give you the skills needed. We’ll take you to the gun range often and train. Reaction time is of vital importance. People not accustomed to going for their weapon need to practice repeatedly to shorten their response time.”

  Her free arm, the one that wasn’t trapped between them, circled his waist. If he objected, he didn’t show it as the hand at her neck tilted her head back. He kissed her forehead. She sighed and looked up at him.

  His gaze, brown eyes as warm as rich coffee with swirls of caramel, burned into hers. Her breath hitched, and her lips parted.

  His lips touched hers and moved carefully, invoking a long-forgotten need.

  A cry rose in her throat.

  He jerked back.

  Struggling for air, he dropped his forehead to hers. “I’m sorry. You’re not ready, are you?”

  “No. Don’t be sorry.” She shook her head. “It’s been so long since I’ve been kissed, since I felt the touch of another human being.” She struggled not to cry as she touched his face. “I need the contact. Please, kiss—”

  His head swooped down. His lips captured hers. Warm flesh moved over hers, gently at first, then hungrily—in a dance that set her senses on alert. Her body flushed with desire and more—longing—longing for closeness with this man she trusted with her entire being. His tongue searched for entrance past her lips, and she opened, allowing him to deepen the kiss—to taste her and allow her to taste him in return. When he pulled away, her hands held fistfuls of his shirt collar.

  Embarrassed, she released him and started to ease back to her side of the truck.

  He stilled her.

  “Stay here beside me.”

  The desire in his eyes reflected hers.

  She nodded.

  He found the center seat belt and buckled her up, then started the truck. He backed out, put the truck in drive, and headed out of the roadside park. When he hit the highway, he wrapped his right arm around her.

  Susan dropped her head to his shoulder.

  For the first time since leaving Chicago, her soul felt clean and free. Within minutes she was sound asleep.

  Chapter Ten

  Carson stopped in front of cabin number one. He glanced down at the sleeping woman nestled against his shoulder. She hadn’t budged the entire trip home. She’d been carrying a heavy burden, and sharing it had been cathartic. He wished she’d told him earlier.

  Hans stuck his muzzle over the seat and nudged Carson’s shoulder.

  “Yeah, I know we’re home, boy.” He didn’t want to wake her. Having her at his side, even for this short time, had been nice, a sensation he could easily grow accustomed to. Arm still around Shannon—no, Susan, her name was Susan—he gently squeezed her shoulder while shaking her. “We’re home.”

  She jerked upright and looked around. “Goodness. I slept the whole trip?”

  “You needed it. Releasing all that pain and stress wore you out.”

  Her face flushed, and she raked her hands through her hair, attempting to put it in order. To him it looked perfect, as it always did. “I’m sorry to have troubled you with all my problems.” She unhooked her safety belt and scooted across the seat.

  “Wait. Don’t run from me. You needed to talk, and I pushed you to open up.”

  “I made such a fool of myself.” Back rigid, she dropped her head. “Kissing you and all.”

  She reached for the door handle, but he stilled her with a hand to the back of her neck. He kneaded the taut muscles. “Honey, I’ve wanted to kiss you from the first day I saw you.” Her shoulders dropped a fraction, relaxing the tenseness in her back. “As a matter of fact, if you’ll scoot back over here, I’d enjoy a goodnight kiss.”

  She turned, a timid smile on her face. “You’re a tempting man, Carson Rhodes, but I better go in. Thank you for listening.”

  “You’re welcome. And hey, to be on the safe side, you’ll continue to be known as Shannon, even to me, until your ex is behind bars again.”

  She nodded.

  “Don’t forget to keep your bear on at all times. Even in the shower.” Hell, the image of White Bear between her naked breasts
made him need a shower—a cold one.

  “I will.”

  ****

  Susan, deep in thought, watched the fish swim by on her screen saver. Had she done the right thing? Confiding in Carson had lifted a load off her mind and eased her heartache somewhat. Did the attraction to him spell danger of another kind—a broken heart? She’d have to be careful, guard against becoming too involved, too dependent, in case she had to run again.

  Her skin warmed at the memory of his kisses. They’d been intense and caring—not designed to turn her on but to simply love her, enjoy her. She’d felt cherished in his arms. Yes, he was good—heady medicine.

  She chuckled. Get your head out of the clouds, Susan. She hit Enter on her laptop’s keyboard, waited for the search screen to appear, and then typed in Susan Lawton. The screen flashed a page full of hits, the most current a video news clip. Susan clicked on it and waited for it to load. Come on, come on. Her fingers drummed against the table until the advertisement finished. She gasped when her parents appeared in the footage.

  Arms around her mother, her father’s voice boomed from the speakers. “…we love you, Susan. Do not contact us.” His voice choked. “We’re grateful to know you didn’t die in that fire.”

  A reporter asked, “Mr. Lawton, your daughter could give detectives information on who set the fire. Don’t you think that’s important?”

  “Of course I do. We’re very sorry for the death of the woman in Susan’s home, but I know my daughter did not kill her. I’ll not have my child coming forward and revealing her location to that deranged ex-husband of hers.”

  Susan’s mother pushed closer to the microphone. “I want to know why the police haven’t caught Dewayne Holt and locked him in a cage where he belongs. He’s the one they need to concentrate on.” Mouth twisted with pain, she looked up at her husband. He patted her shoulder. “Then our baby will be able to come home.”

  Susan brushed tears off her cheek and chuckled. Leave it to her mother to jump to the root of the problem. Oh, how she missed them. It meant the world that they knew she lived and understood why she remained in hiding.

  Two men replaced her parents in front of the mike. The taller and skinnier of the two spoke. “I’m Detective Haney, and this is my partner Detective Williams.” He turned to her parents. “Mr. and Mrs. Lawton, though we understand your concern for your daughter, we desperately need to talk with her. Miss Lawton, if you’re listening, please contact us at…”

  ****

  It had been three days since their visit to Zuni Pueblo. Carson was itching to get into the storage shed and go through Grandpop’s things. Leona and Buck would leave on vacation in a few days, so he’d better get busy at it while he could find the time. He’d just finished scrubbing down the bar when Shannon strolled toward the kitchen counter, her dirty dishes in hand. “You don’t have to do that. One of us will clear them for you.”

  “There’s no need to wait on me all the time. Anyway, it’s time I started paying rent. Your website is about done. I’ll be uploading it to the web today. Plus the time period we discussed is about up.”

  Dread filled Carson. He didn’t want her to leave. “You’ve got another week. Anyway, you’re safer here where I can look out for you.”

  He took her hand and led her through the kitchen. “George, if you need me, I’ll be out back.”

  “Take your time. The rush is about over.”

  The fresh air cooled Carson’s heated skin. He glanced at Shannon and saw her shiver. Pulling her to his side, he ran his hands up and down her arms. She wrapped her arms around his waist. He breathed in her sweet scent and spoke into her hair. “I don’t want you to leave.”

  She drew back, searching his face. “I don’t plan to leave. I just can’t keep freeloading.”

  “You’re not—”

  “I know. But the website is finished. I want to start paying for the cottage and my meals. I insist.”

  Her expression mulish, Carson decided he’d better agree. “All right. We’ll work out something. I’ll give you the long-term rental rate.”

  “Good. Now that your site is finished, there will be very little to keep me busy. Oh, we’ll have emails for reservations, and possibly some comments posted that will need responding to, but not enough to keep me busy. I’d like to do some sightseeing in the area.” Her accounts would take up some time, but not enough to keep her occupied.

  “I can help with that. I’d be happy to show you around, take you to places you won’t find listed in that tour book of yours.”

  She cocked a brow. “Is that so?”

  “It is. Gramps took me to places he visited as a boy where you can see ancient petroglyphs that are protected by the local tribes. Only the locals are allowed to venture onto the land. If they get special permission, that is, and I think I can get us that authorization.”

  “Hmm, are you trying to bribe me?”

  “Could be.” He traced her lip with a finger. “I might have an ulterior motive, one other than keeping you safe, that is.”

  “Stop that.” She stiffened, grabbed his hand, and linked her fingers through his. She shot him a dirty look.

  “Hey, I didn’t mean what you’re thinking. Get your mind out of the gutter, woman.”

  She relaxed against him.

  “And another thing. I want you to go through Grandpop’s stuff with me. Help me look for clues to his past and who the fetish collection originally belonged to.”

  Her face brightened. “Oh, I’d love to help you with that. I enjoy old stuff—papers, dust, digging for information.” She stepped back and tugged on his arm. “Lead on to the storage shed.”

  Her enthusiasm was contagious. He grinned. “Let me check in with George and make sure I’m not needed for awhile. I’ll grab a small heater while I’m at it. It’ll be cold inside.”

  ****

  Dewayne gagged and rushed outside to the balcony. Head over the railing, he threw up into the bushes below.

  God, what an awful mess. Who knew that blood and gore looked so gross? Hell, or smelled so bad? He shuddered and drew in deep gulps of fresh air. Damn, he’d better get out of here.

  He stumbled back into the plush second-story bedroom, averting his eyes from the body sprawled on the king-sized bed as he did so. Leo Sharp shouldn’t have any complaints. Dewayne had followed the mobster’s instructions to the letter. His wife knew who’d ordered the hit on her life. She’d cussed like a sailor before Dewayne delivered the final blow that killed her—a knife to the gut. He guessed Leo didn’t want to bother going through a divorce, and extracting revenge for her filing with a lawyer was a bonus.

  Dewayne glanced around the room, looking for items of value to steal. He might as well make a little extra money, since he’d stuck his neck out and would soon be wanted for murder. He rifled through the jewelry box on the vanity but found only cheap pieces of junk. Shit. She probably hid the good stuff in a safe.

  He stomped to the closet and shoved clothes around, leaving smears of blood as he did so, until he found what he searched for—a safe. He pulled the lever and laughed with glee. The stupid bitch didn’t even lock her good stuff up.

  A pair of running shoes sat on the floor underneath the clothes. He lifted a dirty sock and started filling it with jewelry. Man, old Leo had spent the bucks on the woman. He might not be too happy if Dewayne took too much. Leo probably intended to give most of it to his new honey.

  Sock loaded, he jogged down the dark stairs and maneuvered his way out the back. He left the door open so the cops would think it had been unlocked. The key Leo had given him would join DeWayne’s bloody clothes. The mansion backed up to a busy road that bordered the lake. He’d parked in a turnoff by a jogging trail. At his truck, he peeled off his bloody shoes and jumpsuit and stuffed them in the black trash bag, then weighted it down with several bricks from the truck bed. His latex gloves and hunting knife joined the other items. He pushed all the air from the bag and tied it in a double knot.

  Y
anking open the cab door, he tossed the trash bag onto the passenger floorboard. The sock landed on top, and he stepped into the shoes he’d placed just under the steering wheel. The pickup started at the first turn of the key.

  Dewayne breathed a sigh of relief and pulled out into the traffic. His debt to Leo Sharp was paid. The man better leave him alone now. He had more important things to do.

  ****

  The child’s death mask danced before his eyes. Her mother’s screams bounced against his skull, back and forth, never stopping. “No, no, dear God, no…”

  Something wet and cold nudged Carson’s neck. Hans whined. Carson reached out and rubbed the dog’s neck. “I’m okay, boy.” Han’s warm tongue swiped across his face.

  Carson jerked up in the bed. Would the nightmares never stop? He’d give his life to bring the child back, to stifle her mother’s cries of rage and grief. “Ugh. Enough.” He turned to sit on the side of the bed and dropped his head into his hands, then lifted it to glance at the clock on the nightstand. It read two a.m.

  He stood and strode to the refrigerator. Hans hugged his leg as Carson surveyed the shelves of the icebox. “Want a bowl of milk, boy?”

  The dog gave his version of a snort and backed up.

  Carson chuckled. “Didn’t think so.”

  Without troubling himself to get a glass, Carson drank a healthy slug from the gallon container. His mother would have had a fit. She’d caught him often enough as a teenager. He still missed her. He’d been in college in Albuquerque when she died of cancer. Aunt Leona and Uncle Buck moved into her small home in Gallup to help his dad so Carson could finish out his senior year. He owed them a great debt. His father passed a year later. At least he’d died quickly, didn’t suffer long. A massive heart attack killed him within seconds, or so the doctor claimed. Carson sighed and put the carton back in the refrigerator.