by Kaylea Cross
Sirens sounded in the distance and Nina was aware of the crowd forming around them, whispering and muttering. A fire truck arrived and the firemen ran over.
Nina released Sophie’s hand and moved backward out of the way to give them room, heart in her throat. Hurry, hurry, she urged them, and updated the operator. “The firemen are here.” Finally.
Ending the call, she wrapped her arms around her ribs and stood back, watching the scene helplessly. Come on, Sophie. Fight.
“Baldwin, hey,” one of the firemen said to the pickup driver as he knelt beside Sophie to take over. “When did you start the compressions?”
“Four minutes,” Nina said, drawing the fireman’s attention. Though it seemed like a lot longer than that.
The fire crew immediately took over and the man stepped back, wiping his forearm across his glistening forehead. Damp spots darkened his T-shirt across his chest and under the arms. For the first time Nina noticed the metal badge clipped to his belt.
A cop. That explained why he’d handled everything so perfectly.
Police cars began arriving. The firemen were still working on Sophie. Nina put her hands to her mouth, her attention glued to the woman. A fireman placed the paddles of a portable defibrillator on Sophie’s chest and hit the button.
Sophie’s chest surged upward, then dropped. A fireman checked the pulse in her throat. Seconds later, Sophie’s eyelids fluttered.
Nina gasped. Yes. Come on, you can do it, Nina urged her silently. The firemen eased back a bit as Sophie continued breathing on her own. Her eyes were open.
Nina glanced over just as the pickup driver came up to her. “You all right?” he asked.
He was so big and calm and strong. She wanted to lean into him, soak up some of that strength until she felt steadier. “Yes.” She studied his face. “Are you?”
His eyes crinkled at the corners as the hint of a smile tugged at his mouth, framed by all that delicious bronze stubble. “Yeah, I’m okay.” He looked back at Sophie. “She’s doing great. Look.”
Nina nodded, her insides starting to loosen now that Sophie had been brought back from the brink.
Expelling a deep breath, she ran an unsteady hand through her hair. That had been intense.
“Here. Sit down,” the cop urged, wrapping his long fingers around her upper arm.
The contact sent a little shockwave of sensation up her arm. “No, I’m okay.” Before she could say anything more, other officers came over to begin taking their statements and information.
By the time it was over, Sophie had been loaded into the back of an ambulance and was on her way to the hospital.
“So I’m free to go now?” Nina asked one of the officers. The pickup driver cop was talking to a few others, and they all appeared to know him.
“Yes, we’ve got your contact information,” the officer said.
Nina hesitated, caught the handsome cop’s attention to give a little smile and a wave. He said something to the others, then turned and walked toward her.
Watching him come toward her set off a flutter in the pit of her stomach. The way he moved, all purposeful and self-assured, was mesmerizing. She couldn’t take her eyes off him.
“You doing okay?” he asked when he got close.
“I’m fine.” A little shaken, but better now, and his concern for her warmed her insides. Although the intent way he watched her was making her heart thud all over again. “I didn’t see the driver who caused all this, except that it was a dark-haired man. I didn’t get a plate or anything, it all happened too fast.”
“It’s all right. There’re cameras in the area the cops can look at.” He paused, holding her gaze. “Thanks for your help.”
She flushed. “Of course. I’m just glad Sophie’s okay. That was so scary.”
“It was close. But she’s going to be fine now.” His tone was a little gruff. Though he didn’t need to, he escorted her back to her vehicle and opened her door.
She murmured a thank you and slid into the driver’s seat, every cell in her body aware of how close he was. How incredibly masculine he was, and the slight tang of his clean cologne.
He rested a muscular forearm on the doorframe as he leaned down to look at her through the window with those gorgeous hazel eyes, his expression dubious. “You gonna be okay to drive? You seem a little shaken.”
Holy moly, the man was something. “I can drive.”
He didn’t look convinced. “You live nearby?”
“No, I just moved to Rifle Creek, actually.”
Surprise lit his eyes. “Really?”
“I literally just moved there last night.”
His answering smile made her heart lurch. “Is that right? Well, maybe I’ll see you around town, then.”
It wasn’t even a full smile, just a quirk of his sexy lips, but that admiration and male interest in his eyes were a powerful combination. Good lord, this man was potent. “I’m—”
“Baldwin, need you over here,” someone called behind him before she could introduce herself.
He straightened, gave her another quick smile. “Drive safely.” He shut her door and sauntered over to whoever had called him.
Nina watched him for a moment, disappointment filling her that she hadn’t gotten his name. Or his number. After their brief but intense encounter, she was more interested in him than all the guys she’d dated recently. But maybe she’d only imagined that interest in his eyes?
She shook the thoughts away and started her SUV. Her romantic sensibilities had gotten her into trouble once already, and besides, she had a ton of things to take care of by the end of the weekend.
Monday marked the start of a new teaching semester. After a disastrous finish to her first semester at the University of Montana back in late April, this was another beginning for her.
Life had taught her many things. Most importantly, that happiness was a choice. So she’d chosen to look forward instead of back.
She’d made up her mind four months ago to seize this chance, put the past behind her and take advantage of this fresh new start—and that’s exactly what she was going to do.
Chapter Three
Vince finally allowed himself a deep breath when he’d reached the eastern limits of town without being followed or pulled over. Didn’t look like anyone was coming after him. Maybe he was still okay.
Damn. That traffic incident was a stark reminder that he was playing a dangerous game. One mistake, one slip, and he would lose everything.
The knots in his stomach eased as he headed for home. He’d been at the campus scoping out a possible new target today, and had seen her talking with someone he’d been eyeing that afternoon.
Then she’d looked at him. Right at him. And in that instant, he’d been certain she’d recognized him, so he’d had no choice but to get out of there.
What had they been talking about? It was too much of a coincidence that she’d been talking to his next intended target in front of him. Had she recognized him? Been suspicious of him? Warned the other girl to be careful? Called security?
He ran a hand over his mouth as he drove. Seeing the two women talking had spooked him so much that he’d immediately left campus. His heart had damn near stopped two minutes later when he’d seen her following him in her SUV out of the parking lot. He’d had no choice but to take immediate evasive action, even though the ensuing accident would bring unwanted attention.
At least it had allowed him to get away. And he was driving his buddy’s car, having borrowed it this morning after telling his friend his own vehicle was in the shop. Anyone looking for him would go to his buddy instead, buying him a little time to get away if it came down to it.
He kept checking his mirrors as he drove out into the suburbs, aware of how lucky he was. No one looking at him would ever suspect what he’d done. He hid his tracks well. And for the most part he led a normal, highly functional life.
With one major exception.
A rush of power and exciteme
nt shot through him. Power because he’d gotten away with everything so far. Excitement at the thought of what he’d done, and what he would do again.
He should stop. He knew he had to stop, but the thrill of it was just too damn addicting. He’d always been an adrenaline junkie, and this was an extreme way to get his kicks, fulfill the needs his mundane life and tired marriage never could.
He was going to do it again. Sooner than he should. Because he was too hooked now to wait a safe time period.
Every time he went a little further. Pushed the boundaries, seeking the edge like an addict. Some deeply buried part of him wanting to find out exactly how far he could go and what he could get away with before he was caught.
Every time he did it, he left the area and waited, monitoring the situation to see if he’d been reported as a suspect. So far, nothing. None of the women had been able to identify him, or give enough of a description for the cops to make him a suspect.
Despite everything he’d done, he was still in the clear. And that only made him want it more.
He dropped the car off at his buddy’s house and waited for his wife to pick him up. She glanced at him from the driver’s seat as he climbed into the front next to her. She looked tired. A little sad.
“Any word on your truck?” she asked, her expression almost hopeful as she scanned his face. Searching for something, a connection he no longer felt. Maybe he never had.
“Yeah, everything’s fine. I’ll pick it up tomorrow.” In reality he’d left it parked at a restaurant ten minutes from their house.
She gave him one last lingering look that made him uncomfortable before pulling onto the street. “Have a good day?”
“Great. You?”
She shrugged. “The usual.”
He pretended to pay attention while she ran through the mundane details of her HR job at a local accounting firm. “Anyway, I grabbed groceries on the way home and the girls helped me start dinner. It should be ready by the time we get home.”
“Perfect.”
He walked into the kitchen ten minutes later, grinned as his six and nine-year-old daughters came running, their faces full of delight at seeing him.
“Daddy!” they cried, racing for him.
Vince bent and spread his arms wide, catching them both. He lifted them, hugging them to his chest as he rubbed his short whiskers across their baby-soft cheeks, smiling at their shrieks and giggles. “My two little butterbeans. You miss me?”
“Yes,” they chorused, hugging him around the neck with their thin arms.
Giving them each a sound kiss on the cheek, he set them down and grabbed plates and cutlery as they hurried to help their mother get dinner set out. His heart sank as he watched them, an inexplicable wave of sadness hitting him.
Their love was so pure. Even his wife’s.
Against all odds she still loved him, was still sticking it out with him even though neither of them had been happy in years. She wouldn’t leave, though, because she didn’t want to fracture their family, no matter how unfulfilled she was.
He loved her too, in his own way, but it wasn’t enough. Not anymore.
He swallowed, a hard, cold ball gathering in the pit of his stomach. From the outside looking in, he had it all. A respectable job. A comfortable home, wife and healthy kids.
Why wasn’t that enough? Why did these terrible cravings keep pushing him to the brink when he knew he would eventually lose all of this in the end if he kept going?
But that dark thrill was there inside him, coiling restlessly in his gut. Like a storm gathering. A growing pressure that eventually demanded release.
No. He wouldn’t stop. Not yet.
He was going to do it again, maybe in the next few weeks. And in the meantime, he was going to keep a close eye on her, because if she eventually remembered enough to identify him, the game—and his life—would be over.
****
Tate finally pulled into his driveway as the sun dropped behind the western edge of the mountains. His head was pounding and his neck and shoulders were stiff as hell.
He’d declined medical attention at the accident scene and refused to go to the hospital to get checked out. It was only a mild whiplash. He’d live. God knew he’d been injured far worse than a minor rear-ender in his thirty-three years on this earth.
As he stepped out of his truck, the top of a graying head and a pair of dark eyes appeared over the top of the side fence. “Hey, man. What the hell happened to your ride?”
Tate grunted, unsurprised that his neighbor had noticed the damage immediately. The old man noticed everything around here. While Tate didn’t love how everybody knew everyone’s business in Rifle Creek, it wasn’t all bad, because people around here looked out for one another. And a nosy neighbor could be one hell of an added security measure.
“Hey, Curt.” Tate rolled his head from side to side to ease the stiffness in his muscles. Curt Larsen was a Vietnam vet well into his seventies. A grease monkey always tinkering away on something in his garage, in addition to running his hobby farm. He and Tate had immediately liked and respected one another because they had both served in the Corps. “Got rear-ended.”
Those dark eyes stayed pinned on him. “You all right?”
He wasn’t in the mood for socializing. “I’m okay.” Just sore and looking forward to a hot shower and a beer. “How’s things?”
“Good. Got another coyote today. Bastards have started digging their way under my back fence again.”
“Ah. Well, I’m gonna head in and take a hot shower.”
“For sure. Hey, you take your niece to campus yet?”
He withheld an impatient sigh. “Yeah, I was just leaving when I got hit.”
Curt nodded, the top of his head and face still the only parts of him visible. “So, back to the bachelor lifestyle, huh?” He bounced his bushy eyebrows.
“Looks like.” Not that Tate dated much. Or at all these days. He was too busy with his job as a detective on the Rifle Creek Sheriff’s Department, although given his recent restlessness he was starting to wonder if he’d made a mistake in taking the job.
For some reason the mention of his bachelorhood made him think of the woman he’d just met at the accident scene. She was pretty, and seemed like a good person because she’d stayed to help even though she’d clearly been rattled by what was going on.
Yeah, he was definitely in a funk. At one time, Tate would have gotten her number and used the excuse of checking on her to ask her out, but not anymore, thanks to his relationship with his ex.
He was done with trying and failing to meet someone else’s impossible standards. At least now he was no longer a constant source of disappointment. His life was peaceful now, and that’s exactly how he liked it.
“Why don’t you let me take a look at the damage to the rear end?” Curt offered. “Bet I can do the body work for cheaper at my buddy’s shop than anyone else. Save you some money and time.”
“That’d be great, Curt. Thanks.”
“No problem. I’ll grab it in the morning. Semper fi, baby.”
Tate couldn’t help but grin. He’d missed the brotherhood the military had given him. Another reason he was looking forward to seeing if the new business idea was feasible. “Semper fi.”
The sight of his home made him sigh with relief. The main part of the house was an old log cabin built in the 1880s. Since then various owners had added to it, but the old logs and chinking in the living room were his favorite part. He’d fallen in love with the place the first time he’d seen it and had turned it into his own space, complete with a woodshop out back he liked to putter around in on the weekends.
He’d just walked into his entryway when his cell phone rang. His work partner, Avery. “Hey.”
“Why the hell am I finding out you had an accident from a uniform in Missoula instead of you?” she demanded in her no-nonsense way.
“It’s no big deal. Was gonna tell you at the office on Monday.” He rubbed the back
of his neck.
She huffed out an indignant sound. “Are you hurt?”
“No. Just sore.” And he didn’t feel like talking to her either.
“You didn’t get checked out, did you,” she added, sounding irritated.
“Didn’t need to.”
“You are so stubborn.” She sighed. “Look, my new roomie just moved in downstairs, and we could use a hand moving the bigger stuff around.”
He grunted. “How much do you really know about her, anyway? You say she’s your best friend, but I’ve never even met her.”
“Tate, you cynical bastard,” she said on a chuckle. “Why don’t you come over for dinner so you can meet her and vet her yourself. And then if you’re up to it, you can help us set everything up in the suite after.”
He did want to meet this so-called best friend of hers and make sure she wasn’t crazy or anything. And a hot, home-cooked meal and some company sounded a hell of a lot more appealing than a takeout pizza in an empty house. With Rylee gone things were going to be too quiet all of a sudden, and he was alone until Mason arrived sometime tomorrow.
“Sure, I can come for dinner. What time?”
Chapter Four
Tate parked in front of Avery’s 1890s brick Queen Anne-style Victorian and grabbed the bottle of her favorite wine. A hot shower had helped, but his muscles were stiff and sore as he headed up the front steps. The old house was solid and while it still needed some work here and there, Avery had made major improvements to the interior since she’d moved in last year.
He knocked twice, received Avery’s call to enter, and found her at the marble-topped island in the creamy-white country kitchen. The reno might have been pricey, but in Tate’s opinion it was worth every penny. Whatever she was making smelled awesome, a lot better than the basic meals he made for himself on the nights he didn’t get takeout.
Light flooded in from large windows over the sink and in the dining area, making the honey-toned oak floors gleam and the chrome fixtures sparkle. “Still the best room in the house.”
