by Rebecca Deel
“For giving me time to think through everything, for not pressuring me to spill my guts.”
She decided during dinner to let him choose whether or not to talk. He promised days ago not to keep anything from her. She could guilt him into telling her what she wanted to know now rather than wait for his timetable, but at what price? He’d talk when he was ready. She gave him a mischievous smile. “I’ll wait, as long as it takes.”
He burst into laughter, startling the birds into another headlong flight to the next tree. He interlaced their fingers and turned to face her, his expression a blend of sadness and inevitability. “Next week will be rough, Madison. There’s bound to be gossip, most of it involving me, some of it touching you.”
“We’ll find out the truth, Nick.”
“When we do, I want you to remember one thing.” He squeezed her hand. “I love you. I’ve been in love with you for a long time.”
She gulped. Exhilaration and panic assailed her in equal parts. Her mouth opened to respond before her brain had formed any coherent thought, but he pressed his free hand against her mouth, his touch gentle.
“Let me finish, please.”
Madison pressed her lips together and nodded.
Nick lifted his hand and stroked her cheek with a butterfly’s touch. “I promised I wouldn’t push and I didn’t intend to tell you how I felt until you were ready. Bates’ death forced my hand.”
“I don’t understand.” Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. For the life of her, she couldn’t say more than those three words and it took all her concentration for that statement.
“It’s no secret how I feel about you.” His lips curved in a crooked smile. “You walk in the room and no one else matters for me. I tried to hide it. Someone noticed anyway. One of the rumors you’ll hear is that I’m your stalker.”
“I know that’s not true.” Heat rose in her face, her body tense. Ethan already mentioned that possibility to her yesterday. His Nick-the-stalker theory sounded even more outrageous today.
His thumb caressed the back of her hand. “Some people may say I engineered Luke’s death so I could have you.”
Blood drained from Madison’s face. “I don’t believe that for a minute. He was like a brother to you. Ethan talked to you about that this afternoon, didn’t he?”
He nodded. “He’s working on another theory for this whole mess, one I’m afraid might be true.”
What could be worse than people thinking of him as a stalker, wife-stealer and murderer? And how long had he been in love with her? She relegated that thought to the back of her mind for later. “Well?” she said when he remained silent.
“He thinks we looked at this all wrong, that I’m the target.”
Madison frowned. How did Ethan come up with that? “Then why aren’t you getting all the creepy notes and dead flowers?”
Nick pulled her to her feet and turned them toward home. “Say a guy wants to take revenge on another man, a man with a family he loves. What’s the best way to make him suffer?”
“Hurt his family. But you don’t have any family.”
“No, I don’t.” He looked at her, his expression solemn. “I have you.”
“Me?” Stunned, Madison missed the step down from the curb and would have tumbled to the ground but for Nick’s hand. She gave him a faint smile. “Guess I should have laced up my dancing shoes.”
They walked hand in hand under the moonlit sky, the familiar landscape looking almost alien from the stark light. At the end of her parents’ driveway, she stopped. “I’m the bait for the trap,” she said, her voice low, her gaze searching his. “And you don’t have any idea who’s behind all this?”
He shook his head.
She stared at him, most of his face hidden in the shadows cast by her mother’s magnolia tree. “If this is part of someone’s revenge against you, how long ago did this start? Was Luke a victim of this plan?”
Nick brushed a wind-blown strand of hair away from her eyes. “It’s possible.”
Grim determination swept over her. She squared her shoulders and tilted her chin at a stubborn angle. “Then let’s get to work, Santana. We’ve got a killer to catch.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Nick wanted to laugh, but he knew Madison was too angry to see the humor in their situation. He cupped her elbow and urged her down Cornerstone Church’s crowded aisle toward the door. The older ladies who’d kissed his cheeks and sobbed into their hankies Wednesday night had turned their backs to him this morning.
“How can they believe you’re a killer after the testimony you gave Wednesday night,” she said as they walked through the parking lot to his Jeep. “What about the concert date? Did Pastor Lang set that up for you?”
“We agreed to postpone the concert for a while. His inbox is full of messages again, all negative.” He unlocked the passenger door. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Those same old ladies will bake cookies and treat me like their long-lost grandson after we nail Bates’ murderer.”
“Get me out of this parking lot before I shoot one of those hypocritical old bats,” she said with a scowl.
Nick grinned. “How did you know that’s what I planned to do after lunch?”
“I thought you were kidding.” Madison stared at the wide open grassy field with raised banks of dirt and targets in the distance.
“Shooting a paper target’s good for siphoning off rage.” He grabbed his gym bag from the backseat. “This might be the only chance I’ll get to help with your gun phobia.” His eyes twinkled. “Hard to teach you to shoot from a jail cell.”
The thought of him in jail set her stomach on fire. Nick used to be a cop; he’d be a hot target in prison. Ethan had to figure out who murdered Bates, soon.
Nick walked with her onto the field, laid his bag on the ground and squatted beside it. She stared at the gun he pulled from his bag, a band of fear circling her chest. “I thought Ethan had your gun.”
He dragged out two rectangular boxes. “This is my backup piece, a .38 revolver. Stops a grown man in his tracks. Ethan knows I have it, if that worries you.” Nick stood. “Okay, Madison. What’s the first thing you do when I hand you this gun?”
She grinned. “Run.”
He rolled his eyes, a smile curving his lips. “Always make sure the barrel’s empty. Like this.” He demonstrated, repeating his slow movements until she felt comfortable enough to try it on her own.
After several attempts, hampered with shaking, uncooperative fingers, she grinned at him in triumph. “Piece of cake.”
“Nice work. Now, let’s work on your grip.” He positioned her right hand and helped her wrap the fingers of her left hand around her right hand. “Use a two-handed grip. Rest your index finger alongside the trigger guard until you’re ready to shoot.”
She practiced the grip and learned to use the right stance. When she was comfortable with both, Nick opened one of the boxes and held out his hand for the gun. Her eyes grew wide and her hands started to shake. Until now, handling the gun had been sort of fun, knowing it wasn’t loaded. But she knew firsthand the damage a loaded gun could do. She didn’t think she could go through with this.
Nick loaded the gun and handed it to her. She wanted to refuse, but her hand grasped the weapon. “Nick, I don’t . . .”
“It’s loaded with blanks, Madison. What’s the first thing you do when I hand you a weapon?”
Almost weak from relief, she checked the barrel, then formed her triangle stance.
Nick stepped behind her, his chest brushing against her back. “Very good. Now, pick a spot on the target you want to hit. Increase the pressure on the trigger until the gun goes off.” He bent his knees and helped her line up the sights. “Don’t move.” Nick reached into his bag. He retrieved two pairs of ear protectors from his bag. “Our ears will ring like church bells if we don’t use these to muffle the sound.”
Nick put ear protectors and safety glasses on her and checked the sights again, then instructed her to pull the trigger. She drew
in a breath, held it, and squeezed the trigger. Even muzzled, the explosion caught her by surprise, as did the recoil. “It kicks.”
He chuckled. “Don’t fight it. If you’re relaxed, the gun will return to where you fired it from faster.”
When she ran out of blanks, he reloaded the gun and handed it back to her. Without prompting, Madison went through the safety checks he’d taught her and, again, shifted into the shooting stance. When she finished firing all the blanks in the barrel, he opened the second box. She gritted her teeth against nausea that resurfaced with a vengeance. Her skin felt clammy despite the afternoon sun beating down on her.
Nick loaded the gun, handed it to her. “We’ll never know if you can hit the side of a barn if we don’t use real bullets.”
She licked parched lips. “No barn in sight, just paper targets.”
Amusement danced in his eyes. “Then let’s poke some holes in those paper targets.”
After the safety checks, she lined up her sights, and fired.
Nick glanced at Madison before returning his attention to the road. She stared out the window, silent. “I know working with the gun was hard, but you battled your fear and won.”
“Did I?” she said in a tart tone. “The paper target survived my attack unscathed.”
“First time. Accurate shooting takes practice.” He reached over and curled his fingers around hers.
“So what if I learn to be a crack shot? I won’t shoot someone to protect myself, not after what happened to Mandy.” She turned away from the window, sorrow etched on her features. “No point in having a gun if I can’t or won’t use it for protection.”
“What if someone threatened your children?”
At her raw, anguished look, Nick swerved into a deserted parking lot at the edge of town. He unstrapped himself and her, then pulled Madison into his arms and held her. “Baby, I’m so sorry.” How could he forget? He should have told her he knew months ago. And now, with a trip of the tongue, he’d slipped a stiletto into her already bruised heart.
Her soft exhale feathered across his neck. “The accident took more than my son, Nick,” she said, her voice tight. “It also took my ability to have children.”
“I know.”
She freed herself and stared at him. “What?”
“I stayed by your bedside for over 24 hours while the cops tracked down your family. You almost bled to death on the operating table, Madison. I know what the doctors did to save your life.” Nick curled his hand around the back of her neck, a small smile curving his lips. “I badgered them into telling me everything, including the hysterectomy.”
“Why am I not surprised to hear that?”
“I didn’t mean for that question to hurt you. I thought you would adopt kids someday.”
“But I can’t have children. You wouldn’t have a child to carry on your family name. Doesn’t that bother you? ”
He shrugged. “Being married to you would be Heaven on earth. I couldn’t ask for more.”
A spark of humor pushed away some of the sadness in her eyes. “You haven’t asked me yet.”
Nick grinned, heat rolling up his neck and face. “Guess I haven’t. If you agreed to marry me, we could adopt or just be the favorite aunt and uncle. Either way, we’d have a house full of love to share.”
“You still haven’t asked me to marry you. And what happened to waiting until I’m ready to deal with marriage?”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “How can you resist me?” Nick grinned at her stunned expression. She may not think her heart ready, but he hoped, prayed she was falling in love with him.
For the first time in weeks, Madison woke Monday morning to the clap of thunder and rain beating against the window panes. She turned on the small television sitting on the kitchen counter. She wrinkled her nose at the forecast, a day filled with rain and scattered storms.
Resigned to soggy shoes and clammy jeans, Madison measured the coffee and water and started her coffeemaker. While her breakfast brewed, she wrote a list of things she needed to do. Call her insurance agent, call the alarm monitoring company before Nick or Josh chewed her out again, deliver yarn and scout for a new store location.
On the way back from the handgun range yesterday, she noticed renovations in progress at the old dress shop a couple of blocks behind The Bare Ewe’s burned-out skeleton. An ideal location, the building was close enough to walk to from the square with parking for those who drove. Did it have a new owner or were the realtors looking for a buyer?
Her doorbell rang. Nick leaned against the doorjamb, thick hair plastered to his head, damp shirt clinging to his chest. He gave her a rueful smile. “Do you serve towels with coffee?”
She laughed and stepped back. “The coffee just finished brewing. Pour a cup while I get you a towel.”
When she returned to the kitchen, Madison handed Nick a comb along with a blue towel.
He rubbed his hair and face, tossed the damp towel on a chair and the comb on the table. “One thing missing,” he said, a twinkle in his eyes.
She frowned. What did she forget? With her coffee cooling in a mug on the counter, her caffeine-deprived brain cells operated at snail speed. “What?”
“This.” He folded her close, and kissed her with a thoroughness that set her pulse racing.
“Too early in the morning to witness that on an empty stomach,” Josh said behind her. She broke the kiss and swung around, her face flaming. Her brother thumped a mug on the counter and grabbed the coffee pot. “Looks like you’re doing all right this morning, Nick, but how’s the head?”
Nick chuckled, snatched the towel and spread it on the washing machine. “Headache’s almost gone. You finish that Parker book?”
“About 2:00 this morning.” Josh sipped his coffee and grimaced. “Don’t you girls ever fix real coffee? If I want blueberries or candy in my coffee, I’ll add it myself.”
“Not everybody wants a drink fresh from the asphalt plant.”
Her brother grunted and put down his mug, scowling. “What’s the plan for today?” he asked Nick.
“Nose around about the fire and flowers, if anyone will talk to me.” He shrugged. “The natives don’t think much of me right now.”
“It’ll pass.” Josh turned to Madison. “What about you, sunshine? Going with him?”
She nodded. “We’ll deliver yarn while we snoop. You sleeping here or driving to Mom’s?”
“Serena’s cooking for me this morning.” He patted his flat stomach, dismay crossing his face. “Before long, I’ll have to watch my waistline.”
Madison frowned at him. “Get a magnifying glass. You don’t have an ounce of flab anywhere.”
“That’s what 1,000 crunches a day does for you.”
She shuddered and changed the subject. “That’s a nice truck in my driveway. When did you buy it?” She noticed the red Chevy truck when Nick brought her home last night, but was too tired to ask about it.
Josh grinned like a kid unwrapping a Christmas present. “Saturday morning. Picked it up yesterday after church. Figured I needed a different color Silverado than Ethan’s or I might find Serena’s cooking stuff in it one day.” He pulled keys from his pants pocket and tweaked Madison’s nose. “See you tonight, sunshine.” He shook Nick’s hand. “Good hunting.”
Nick finished combing his hair into place. “You up for a little fishing?”
“In the rain?” She scrunched her nose. “I don’t have waders. Besides, if the yarn gets wet, my car will smell like I’m hauling around wet sheep.”
He chuckled. “How about indoor fishing at Delaney’s?”
“What’s the bait?”
“Me.”
Breakfast at the deli sounded good, although Nick’s reception might be cool. Madison’s smile vanished. In her experience, bait never fared well in fishing expeditions.
Nick escorted Madison to a vacant table near the front door of Delaney’s. Conversations in the diner stalled and all eyes turned toward them. He sea
ted her, turned, and surveyed the room, a visual challenge to any who still stared at them. The curious dropped their gaze. Some customers, smoldering contempt in their eyes, met and held his cold stare before averting their faces.
“You know how to make an entrance,” Madison said.
“One friendly face in here.” Nick nodded toward the back of the room. “Georgia Shannon’s in the corner booth.”
“Coffee?” Trixie slid menus onto the table with one hand, her coffee pot hovering over their empty mugs.
“Thanks.”
The waitress filled both mugs, careful to avoid Nick’s gaze. “You folks ready to order?” she said to Madison. She scribbled their choices, her gaze glued to the order pad. “Be right up,” she muttered and hurried off.
Madison sipped the steaming brew, shuddered. “Josh’s warped taste buds would love this coffee. It’s nasty.”
Nick’s mouth curved, but he remained silent. He scanned the room’s occupants, his body tense. Everybody avoided eye contact with him, even Georgia. An invisible hand squeezed his heart.
Madison laid her hand on top of his. “Should we leave?”
He grinned. “We’re just starting.”
When their orders arrived, Nick ducked his head and covered his mouth to hide a smile. Madison’s scrambled eggs, hash browns, bacon and toast were cooked to perfection, while his meal looked like someone scraped off the bottom of the grill and frying pan. Black specks decorated his eggs and hash browns, the bacon resembled petrified sticks, and his toast was charred beyond recognition.
“Nick, don’t eat that. Send it back.”
He shook his head. “If I can get a Coke without Trixie dumping arsenic in it, I’ll be fine.”
Madison got up from the table and walked to the counter, heads turning as she went. Although he couldn’t hear what she said, he smiled as the waitress hurried to fill a large glass with Coke. Madison set the glass down with a thud and resumed her seat.
“What did you tell her?”
She grinned. “One side effect of a concussion is nausea, and you weren’t quite recovered. Hate to leave a mess to clean up, wouldn’t we?” She handed him a straw. “I watched her fill the cup. No special additives in your drink.”
