by Elle James
A light, lace curtain billowed in the breeze rushing through a broken window, fanning the flames now crawling up the side of an upholstered armchair.
“Oh, sweet Jesus,” Emily cried and started forward.
Colin held up a hand. “Don’t come any closer. You’ll silhouette yourself against the window.” He grabbed a quilted blanket from the back of a lounge chair and threw it over the flames. Then he stomped on it until the fire was out.
“Colin!” Emily cried out. “Look out! He’s got a gun!”
Colin ducked low a moment before a shot was fired through the shattered window.
He hunkered low and ran for the entrance. “Stay out of sight,” he called out as he ripped open the front door and ran out into the night.
As soon as he was outside, he leaped off the porch and ran in the direction of the living room window through which the shooter had fired.
He couldn’t see anyone in the immediate vicinity and rounded the side of the house in time to see a man leaping onto a motorcycle. Another motorcycle shot out of the yard and out onto the street.
Colin powered up, running as fast as he ever had, determined to catch the man still trying to start his bike.
On his second attempt to start the engine, it engaged. The bike rider twisted the throttle at the exact moment Colin caught up with him.
Colin leaped onto the man’s back, grabbed his shoulders and dragged him backward.
The man held onto the handlebar. The motorcycle popped a wheelie and raced away without its rider.
Colin and the intruder hit the ground hard.
Immediately, the shooter rolled and threw a punch. His fist grazed Colin’s cheek.
Colin punched him in the nose and cocked his arm to swing again. The man kicked him in the gut, sending him flying backward.
Then the assailant broke free, rolled to his feet and ran for the motorcycle that had crashed to the ground twenty yards away.
Adrenaline dulled the pain in his belly long enough for Colin to run after the man.
The man lifted the bike and slung his leg over the seat when Colin caught him
This time, when Colin tried to pull him off the bike, he held tight. Colin refused to let him get away and hung on, his feet dragging across the grass.
In the struggle, the motorcycle veered toward a tree. The driver yelled, “Let go!”
Colin refused, praying the man would stop the bike before they hit the tree.
At the last moment, Colin let go, dropped to the ground and rolled, coming up on his feet.
The driver jerked the steering wheel to the right. Too late. The bike slammed into the tree. The rider flew over the handlebars and crashed, head-first, into the trunk with a sickening crunch.
Colin ran to the unconscious man and bent to feel for a pulse. After a long moment he felt the soft bump of blood pumping through the attacker’s carotid artery.
“Colin!” Emily called out from the front porch.
“Call 911,” he yelled. “And get back inside.”
“Calling,” she replied and disappeared back into the house, closing the door behind her.
Not long afterward, the wail of sirens preceded the arrival of a sheriff’s vehicle, followed by an ambulance.
Colin stood, waving the vehicles over to where the man lay on the ground, unmoving.
Sheriff Barron emerged from his service vehicle and approached Colin.
“What’s happened?”
Emily came out of the house and joined the sheriff, her hands clutched together, her eyes wide as she stared at Colin. “Oh, thank God, you’re all right.”
“More than I can say for this guy.” Colin moved to the side, pointing at the man who’d tried to escape but had lost the fight with a tree.
“I thought I saw two motorcycles,” Emily said, glancing around.
“The other one got away,” Colin said.
“Start at the beginning, while the EMTs do their thing.” The sheriff took out a pad of paper and a pen.
Colin filled him in on the Molotov cocktail, the shots fired and the subsequent chase and escape.
Sheriff Barron shook his head. “Think this has anything to do with the attack in Bozeman?”
“That would be my guess.” Colin’s gaze met Emily’s.
She nodded. “I think it also has something to do with Alex’s death.”
The sheriff tilted his head to one side. “Got any proof?”
“Well…no,” Emily said. “But—”
“Can’t arrest anyone on gut instinct,” he said. “I need solid facts to make any headway.”
Emily’s lips pressed together in a thin line. “I don’t have any facts. But before Alex died, the only things trying to kill me were the bloodsucking mosquitoes. Since Alex’s death, I’ve had someone following me everywhere I’ve gone. Tonight, after a visit to our attorney, suddenly, I have others willing to risk their lives in an effort to kill me. What have I done to garner such hatred?”
“It might not be hatred at all,” the sheriff said. “What transpired at the attorney’s office?”
Emily shot a look at Colin. “He gave me a packet with a letter, and SD card and a key.” She told him about the video on the SD card.
Sheriff Barron rubbed his chin. “If Alex was playing with the wrong kids on the playground, they might have concluded that he’d shared his toys with you. These guys might think you know something. Or they’re being paid by someone who thinks you know something. Something they don’t want to get out.”
“You think someone might have paid those two to torch Emily’s house?” Colin asked.
The sheriff shrugged. “Seemed pretty amateur to me.” He tipped his head toward Emily. “I’d like to see that video and know what you find in that safe deposit box.”
“I’ll let you know as soon as I find out myself.” Emily raised her chin. “I plan on being in Bozeman when that bank opens this morning.”
“Need an escort?” the sheriff asked.
Colin cupped Emily’s arm. “I’m going with her.”
The sheriff’s eyes narrowed. “Armed?”
“Damn right,” Colin responded. After all that had happened, he’d be a fool to go without some kind of weapon.
“Good,” the sheriff said. “Miss Emily needs looking after until we figure out who’s sending their lackies to do their bidding. Any luck on finding the girl with the unicorn tattoo?”
Colin nodded. “I have a couple leads. While we’re in Bozeman, I’ll follow up on them.”
“I know a state police detective is working the case,” the sheriff said, “but from what I’ve heard, their caseloads are insane. It doesn’t hurt to have more people sifting through any evidence we can find.” He stared from Emily to Colin and back. “Again, if you hear anything, let me know.”
Emily nodded.
Colin held out his hand. “We will.”
The sheriff clasped it and held on longer than necessary. “It goes both ways. If I hear anything about your father or Miss Emily’s attacker, I’ll let you know.”
Sheriff Barron gave her crooked smile. “I remember the day your mama brought you back to Eagle Rock. I never wanted her to regret that day one bit.”
The sheriff and his deputies gathered the bottle fragments from the Molotov cocktail and had the motorcycle hauled off to the impound lot to be investigated. If their guy didn’t wake up from the crash, then hopefully, they’d learn who owned the bike and follow any leads to who sent him to burn Emily’s house…with her in it.
From what Colin could tell, the bike didn’t have a license plate. And he’d bet his paycheck the serial number had been scratched off. Their best hope was the guy recovering enough to answer some questions.
“I’ll be in Bozeman at the hospital to wait for this guy to come to.” The sheriff handed Colin a business card. “Here’s my personal cell phone number. Call me. I’ll let you know what I find out about our motorcycle rider.”
Colin shared a hard look with the sheriff
then gave him a curt nod.
“Thank you, sheriff,” Emily said.
The sheriff’s men wrapped up their investigation, and the emergency responders left with the motorcycle rider, headed for Bozeman.
Colin led Emily back into the house. “Got a hammer, scrap lumber and nails?”
She shrugged. “Alex kept all his tools in the garage. I think he had some wood left over from work he did on the deck.” She closed her eyes and pushed a hand through her blond hair. The dark circles beneath her eyes were even darker than they’d been before she’d gone to bed the evening before.
“I’ll do something about the window. Why don’t you go to bed and get whatever sleep you can before our trip to Bozeman?”
She shook her head, her gaze going to the blanket on the floor of her living room. The stench of gasoline and smoke permeated the air. “I couldn’t sleep, even if I wanted. I’ll work on cleaning up this mess while you work on the broken window.”
“At least, let me help you pick up the glass, before I fix the window.”
“Suit yourself. I just can’t leave it there.” She entered the kitchen and secured a broom and a dustpan.
Colin grabbed the kitchen trash can and followed Emily back to the living room.
Together, they gathered all the broken glass the sheriff’s department had considered too small to collect and placed it into the trash container.
“What do you want me to do with the blanket?” Colin lifted the quilt off the floor. Some of the patches had been blackened by the fire. Others were burned all the way through.
Emily shook her head and pointed to the trash. “You might as well throw it away. It’s ruined.” Her eyes filled with tears. “My grandmother made that for me as a wedding present. She died the next year from complications from pneumonia.”
Colin froze the hand holding the blanket over the trashcan. “I’m not throwing away something your grandmother made for you.”
“I wouldn’t know how to fix it. I never learned how to sew.” Her lips quirked upward at the corners. “I was too busy riding horses with two of the county’s worst hooligans to learn.”
Colin grinned. “I’ll ask my mother if she knows a quilter who could fix it.” He folded the blanket and carried it into the kitchen. In the pantry, he found a plastic trash bag, stuffed the quilt inside and carried it out to his truck.
When he returned to the house, he found the tools he needed in the garage, cut a sheet of plywood to fit the broken window and screwed it into the frame. At least that one window couldn’t be used again to toss a Molotov cocktail into.
There were still twenty or more windows an arsonist could target. Glass was easily broken.
While he’d worked on covering the window, Emily scrubbed and mopped the floor and walls, removing as much of the soot as she could with a strong cleaning fluid. The scent of smoke warred with a lemony floor cleaner.
By the time they had done what they could, the gray light of dawn edged out the darkness and started to fill the sky over the tops of the mountain ridges surrounding the town.
“Are you hungry?” Emily asked.
Colin’s stomach rumbled loudly. “Yeah. Let’s get cleaned up, and I’ll treat you to breakfast at the diner. Then we can head into Bozeman in time for the bank to open.”
“You’re on. There are two showers, so you don’t have to wait on me.” She gave him a weary smile. “Thanks for being here.”
He reached out and gripped her arms. The thought of her being alone when that Molotov cocktail had hit the window made his stomach clench. Had she not found him in that bar in Bozeman, he might not have been here for her. She could have died in the fire.
Colin pulled her into his arms and held her tight. “I’m glad I was here.” He held her for another minute. Reluctantly, he set her at arms’ length. “I bet I shower faster than you.”
She chuckled. “Is that a challenge? You know I always beat you.”
He winked. “I always let you.”
She leaned up on her toes and pressed her lips to his in a brief kiss. “Game on.” Emily spun and raced up the stairs.
Colin stood for a long time, staring at the empty staircase, knowing he was getting in over his head. But he couldn’t back out now. He had to see this through until she was safe again.
In the meantime, he feared his soul would take a beating, and he wasn’t sure he’d live through the heartache a second time.
Chapter 5
Emily didn’t stop running until she’d reached the bathroom in the master suite and closed the door behind her. She leaned against the back of the door, needing its support to keep her shaking knees from buckling.
What had she been thinking? Why had she kissed Colin? She knew better.
As with the first time they’d kissed, her heart hammered, her gut knotted, and she broke out in a sweat.
She’d never felt this discombobulated when she’d kissed Alex. Once again, she was scared.
And exhilarated.
And more alive than she’d felt in months. Maybe years.
She pressed her knuckles to her lips where they still tingled from touching Colin’s.
Yeah, she’d felt something when she’d touched him, when their lips had met. But had he? Could what she felt be completely one-sided?
God, it’s wrong, wrong, wrong.
Her husband hadn’t been dead long. She shouldn’t be experiencing such strong emotions about another man.
She pushed away from the door and faced herself in the mirror. What wife could go from one man to another so soon?
She stared into her own eyes and answered the unspoken question.
The worst wife imaginable.
She’d known the truth for ten years, but had never admitted it to anyone, including herself.
It had always been Colin. She’d loved him as long as she’d known him. And not as a brother. That one kiss, so long ago, had brought the truth home. But she’d been so scared by her father’s death and her mother’s heartbreak, she’d refused to let herself love anyone as much as her mother had loved her father.
That was the real reason why she’d been so afraid. She’d loved Colin so much it physically hurt.
That she still might didn’t change anything. She was a recent widow. He’d been gone for ten years. He probably didn’t feel the same way. Even if he did, he wouldn’t move in on his best friend’s widow. He was an honorable man.
Emily turned on the water in the shower and stripped out of her smoky pajamas and robe. She stepped beneath the cool spray, purposely keeping the heat down to bring her own body temperature under control.
She couldn’t let herself go down a path that would lead to heartache. Colin was home to find his father. When John McKinnon was found, Colin would return to his world in the Marine Corps and Emily would remain in Eagle Rock.
For what?
For her sister, for one. Brenna needed her. Emily was her only family.
Never mind that Brenna had a job in real estate and was doing well for herself. She had her little house in Eagle Rock, and she was making it on her own.
“Face it, Em,” she said to herself. “Brenna doesn’t need you anymore. You’ve completed your big sister duties.” It was time to move on and let Brenna live her life without having a sister to hover over.
But how soon was too soon to get back in the dating market? Three months, six months or a year?
Did it matter how much time had passed since his death? She and Alex’s relationship had been strained for the past couple of years.
Emily switched off the shower, toweled dry and looked around the bathroom, her mouth twisting into a wry grin.
She’d been in such a hurry to get out of the same airspace as Colin, she’d forgotten to get her clothes for the day. Her dirty clothes were in a small pile on the floor, too soiled to wear without first washing.
And her clothes were in the guest bedroom, across the hall from the other bathroom.
Wrapping the towel around h
er middle and tucking the corner in at her breast, she cracked open the master bedroom door and peered down the hallway.
The coast was clear. If she hurried, she could make it to the bedroom she’d been sleeping in. The one she’d moved her clothing into.
With cool air hitting her naked legs and blowing up her thighs to her equally bare bottom, she scooted down the hallway. The thought of getting caught was both frightening and exhilarating.
As she reached for the doorknob to her bedroom door, Colin hurried out of the bathroom and bumped into her, knocking her off balance.
To keep from slamming into the wall, Emily released her hold on the towel and braced her hands on the wall, catching her fall.
Fortunately, she saved herself from injury. Unfortunately, she suffered the humiliation of her towel coming completely undone and sliding from her body.
She snatched at the fabric and missed.
Colin stood so close, she couldn’t bend to retriever her towel without bumping into him. She stood completely naked in front of the man she had just admitted to herself that she’d always loved.
A smile curled the corners of his lips as his gaze slipped over her breasts, down to that tuft of hair covering her sex and quickly back up to her eyes.
Rather than cover herself with her hands, Emily lifted her chin. “If you could hand me my towel…?”
His smile broadened. He bent, snagged the towel and rose, ever so slowly, his face within inches of her thighs, her hips, her ribs and breasts.
When she reached for the towel, he jerked it away.
“Why should I give this to you?” he said, his eyebrows raised.
She swallowed hard. “Because you’re a gentleman, and a gentleman always protects the lady.”
He looked from side to side. “I don’t see that you’re in any danger.”
Her chin rose. “Maybe not now. Not from others. But I sense danger…” she lowered her voice and admitted, “when I’m with you.” Heat rose up her neck and spread throughout her face. At the same time, warmth built at her core.
Holding the towel away from her, he touched her cheek with the backs of his knuckles. “Oh, baby, I know exactly where you’re coming from.”
