by Brenda Novak
“The only way he could.” Levi stretched out his arm to show the fresh bite marks.
“Wow.” Stacy set his coffee aside, clicking his tongue. “They aren’t anything compared to all those stitches, though, are they?”
“Rifle wasn’t trying to tear me apart.”
“I heard about the pit bull attack, of course. Godfrey told me he took care of you. But I had no idea your injuries were so extensive.” He rubbed his hand over his jaw with a rasping sound. “I’m afraid Whiskey Creek hasn’t been a lucky stop for you.”
Levi could tell that wasn’t the throwaway remark Stacy pretended it was. “Depends on how you look at it, I guess.”
“Excuse me?”
“If Rifle hadn’t risked his life to wake me, I wouldn’t be sitting here now. I’d breathed in so much carbon monoxide I was halfway unconscious, so it’s a miracle he got to me in time. I guess that makes me pretty lucky.”
“Oh...right.” Stacy chuckled, then whistled to Rifle. “What a good boy,” he said, giving the dog a pat when Rifle walked over. “Callie told me he jumped through the window to reach you. That’s impressive.”
“He’s got the cuts to prove it.”
Stacy jerked a thumb toward the broken window, which had to be boarded up until Callie could get it fixed. “Sailing through a window like that? Believe me, his injuries could’ve been a lot worse.”
Levi raised his eyebrows. “See what I mean about luck?”
“I’d call that devotion. He must like you a great deal to go to such lengths to keep you safe.”
As if to prove that he did indeed like Levi, Rifle returned to his side and lay at his feet.
Stacy motioned to the dog. “Would you look at that! You’ve won him over in record time.”
Levi managed a self-deprecating grin. “No accounting for a dog’s taste, I guess.”
Callie was still on the phone. Levi could hear her in the other room, working hard to convince her parents that she was safe and had things under control. Someone had alerted them to the fire, all right.
Stacy could, no doubt, hear her, too, but he twisted around as though looking for her. Then he lowered his voice. “And what about Callie? How much does she like you?”
“I’m not sure I follow,” Levi said.
“I just asked if there’s something between you and Callie. That’s simple enough, isn’t it?”
It was his reason for asking that bothered Levi. Their relationship wasn’t a matter of police business. “Does that have anything to do with the fire?”
Stacy had been reaching for his cup, but he straightened without picking it up. “Maybe.”
Levi blinked at him. “I’m afraid I don’t see the connection.”
The police chief made a show of brushing a piece of lint from his uniform. “Then I’ll spell it out for you. I know her parents quite well. I knew her grandparents before they passed, too. And many of her friends are my friends.”
Levi’s heavy-lidded look was meant to suggest he didn’t give a shit. “You’re trying to say you’ve got a personal stake in how we feel about each other?”
A muscle flexed in Stacy’s cheek. Forgetting his coffee, he slid forward. “I’m trying to say I’ve sworn to protect the people of this town, and I plan to do that.”
Levi leaned forward, too. “From what?”
“From whatever threat they might face!”
“Too bad you weren’t around tonight.”
Stacy obviously recognized the sarcasm in his voice. He gave Levi a dirty look as he reclaimed his cup. “Don’t worry. I’m going to get to the bottom of what went on here. I promise you that. And I’ll make sure Callie’s safe from any other threats, too.”
“You mean...like the threat posed by an unsavory drifter?”
Stacy’s cup hit the saucer with a loud clack. The glitter in his eyes told Levi that he didn’t like meeting with any resistance. But Levi didn’t like what he was hearing, either. After growing up with an overbearing father and coping with the rigid structure of the military, including one or two superior officers who should never have been given authority over other soldiers, Levi could no longer tolerate those who overstepped their bounds. What had happened to Behrukh only made it worse. The men in her life thought they had the right to tell her whom she could love.
“If necessary,” Stacy said.
Suddenly, Levi itched to hit the road, to leave this arrogant son of a bitch behind—so he wouldn’t do something he might regret, like rearranging Stacy’s face. “And how do you propose to do that?” he asked. “By getting involved in Callie’s personal life, even though she wouldn’t thank you for it?”
“Mr. McCloud, I’ll decide what’s too personal and what isn’t. Do you understand?”
“Better than you realize.”
“I don’t think that’s the case. So let me make things a little clearer. You’ve been here almost a week. That’s long enough to recover.”
“Are you asking me to leave?”
“I’m merely pointing out that you might be wearing out your welcome. Where do you plan on going from here?”
Knowing his delay in responding would make as much of a statement as his words, Levi waited a second before replying. “Wherever I want.”
“That’s easy, isn’t it?” Stacy said with a humorless chuckle. “When you don’t have a job like the rest of us?”
“Is that why we’re sitting here, Chief Stacy? Because I don’t have a job? That’s somehow breaking the law in your book?”
Red suffused the other man’s face. “I’ll admit there could be worse things. There’s nothing on you in the system, Mr. McCloud. No traffic citations. No previous arrests.”
It required effort not to curl his hands into fists. “Isn’t that good?”
“It would be if it was accurate. But I have reason to believe it’s not.”
An uneasy feeling skittered down Levi’s spine.
“Godfrey mentioned that you were in the military. Is that true?”
He said nothing.
“It is, isn’t it? But the background check I ran doesn’t show that, either. No Levi McCloud from Seattle has ever served in the armed forces.”
Stacy knew he wasn’t using his real name, or his military record would’ve come up.
“Do you have an ID you can show me?”
“Sorry. It got burned in the fire.” That wasn’t true. After that night in Nevada, he’d thrown his wallet into a lake. He knew he’d never be able to use it again, had simply picked a new name, but hadn’t gone so far as to buy false ID. He had no idea where people even came up with that shit.
“That’s too bad,” Stacy said. “Now you have no proof that you are who you say you are.”
“It’s unfortunate,” Levi agreed.
“There is one way to solve it....”
“And that is?”
“I’d rather you were someone else’s problem. Since you arrived, we’ve had a dog attack and a fire. Two serious incidents. Whether you’re to blame or not, trouble seems to follow you. So let me ask you again—how long are you planning on staying?”
A noise over by the kitchen drew Levi’s attention. Callie was off the phone. He had no idea when she’d started listening in, but judging by the blush of anger on her cheeks, she’d overheard enough to know that all wasn’t well.
“What are you trying to say, Chief?” she asked, coming into the room. “Are you saying he’s not welcome in Whiskey Creek?”
After taking a final swallow of coffee, Stacy put his cup and saucer on the table. “No need to get upset, Callie. I think Mr. McCloud and I understand each other,” he said, and wished them both a good day before he left.
15
“What did all that mean?”
Reluctant to look at Callie, who was crouched in front of his chair, staring up at him, Levi pinched the bridge of his nose. “You don’t want to know.”
“Chief Stacy said your service in the military didn’t show up in his background search.”
“That’s what he said.”
She nudged his leg. “Why?”
Blowing out a sigh, he returned her gaze. “Because my name isn’t McCloud, okay?”
Eyes wide, she rocked back. “Then...who are you?”
For some reason, her crestfallen expression made him angry. He didn’t want to see her so shocked and upset, didn’t want to be the cause of it. “Does it matter?” he snapped. “You knew I was wanted by the police.”
“You said it was for speeding tickets! But Stacy said you had no speeding tickets. And, even if you really do, a couple of speeding tickets is no reason to assume a false identity.”
“It’s as good a reason as any. Why go to jail? Anyway, I’m just helping you out for a few days. We’re never going to see each other after I leave. So how is my name even important? Would Smith or Jones or Hall be any better than McCloud for some man who once painted your barn?”
He was being a jerk, but he couldn’t say why. He had no excuse to be unkind to Callie. It was the police chief who’d hit him with reality and made him want to strike back. Callie hadn’t done anything except try to help him.
Fortunately, she didn’t make matters worse by appearing wounded. She came right back at him. “Are you that determined not to care about anyone? And not to let anyone care about you?”
“I told you from the beginning not to expect anything from me!” Desperate to put some space between them, he got up and approached the mantel, where a large gilded mirror showed him the conflicting emotions on his face.
Rising to her feet, she spoke from behind him. “Then go, if that’s what you’re dying to do! Nothing’s stopping you.”
“Except my word. I’ll pay you back before I leave.”
“You’ve already done enough. You don’t owe me anything. Consider the money I spent on your bike a...a gift—from one stranger to another.”
He whirled to confront her. “And what about Denny Seamans and his buddy? They probably set the fire in the barn tonight. You know that. They could come back.”
“I can handle them myself,” she insisted. “I don’t need you any more than you need me.”
“Fine.” He no longer had his leather coat, his backpack, his extra clothes and shoes—just what he had on his back and the boots he’d worn the night he was attacked by those dogs. He’d cleaned off the blood and left them by the back door to dry. But that was enough. He’d always been able to fend for himself. It was when others depended on him that life got complicated.
So she was right—it was best that he leave now, before whatever had started here grew any messier.
But his steps slowed as he reached the door. “Just tell me one thing.” She didn’t agree to do that, but he continued, anyway. “How does my name change any of the interaction we’ve had? I’m still the same man, regardless of what you call me.”
“Your name isn’t the problem,” she said.
“Then what is?”
“Does it matter?”
“I want to know.”
“Fine. I’m crazy about you, even though I shouldn’t be. And you hate that. Maybe you hate me. So move on, Whoever You Are. Be alone and make sure you stay alone. Have it your way.”
When she moved toward the bedroom, he told himself to let her go and walk out. Her words seemed to echo through the house. Make sure you stay alone. Was that how he wanted to live? Not really. He just hadn’t seen any other way to cope with the turmoil inside him, any other way to keep from hurting the people he cared about.
Suddenly, he didn’t know why it was so important that he not touch her. Behrukh seemed far away, part of another lifetime. She’d died because of him. How could he make what he’d done any worse?
“Callie.”
“Go.” She didn’t look back at him, but he could tell she was crying. Catching her before she could disappear into the bedroom and slam the door, he turned her around and drew her up against him. “I do hate you,” he murmured, “but only because I want you so much.”
He saw the confusion in her eyes, but he couldn’t explain something he didn’t understand himself. All he could do was try to forget the past. And losing himself in making love with her seemed to hold the most immediate promise.
* * *
Callie knew she was crossing a line she shouldn’t cross. Levi wasn’t the only one who hadn’t been completely forthcoming. What she’d held back was possibly worse. But she didn’t feel she needed to stop him from touching her long enough to bare her soul. One romantic interlude didn’t mean he’d be sticking around. Chances were he’d be gone by morning.
And she’d let him go, maybe even encourage him to leave sooner rather than later. She didn’t want to drag him through what was about to happen to her. She preferred to hang on to this memory, to treasure the next few minutes like a pretty seashell in her pocket, one she could take out and examine when she needed something to bolster her for the challenges ahead. Then she could smile, knowing he was out there on his motorcycle, driving God knew where, oblivious to her struggle.
“You feel exactly how I imagined you would,” he said as he slid his hands up her shirt. “You’re so soft. Everywhere.”
She grinned at him. “Just like you imagined? When did you imagine putting your hands on me?”
He smoothed the hair out of her face. “What do you think I’ve been dreaming about out there in the barn—or here on the couch?”
“It sounds like we’ve been having the same dream. But—” she wiped the rest of her tears away “—don’t worry, okay? About anything. You can leave tomorrow. No guilt.”
He stared at her. “What’d you say?”
“I’m telling you that I understand this doesn’t constitute a—a commitment. It’s not like I think...you know, that you’re falling in love with me...or that you’ll stay.” She laughed as if both of those possibilities would be too far-fetched to even consider. She actually hoped they were, for his sake. “The barn’s burned down. Nothing’s keeping you here.”
He frowned. “Do you mind if we enjoy this before you start saying goodbye?”
“Of course. No goodbyes. Not yet. We can save that for tomorrow. I just...I thought you’d want to be...reassured.”
“I don’t,” he said. “It makes me feel as if...I’m Kyle.”
“Excuse me?”
“A stand-in.”
Maybe she’d been a little too zealous in getting her point across. But she felt as if she had to do something to protect him, just in case he wasn’t as impervious to their attraction as he seemed. Setting up the right expectations would help. “You’re definitely not a stand-in,” she said. “You’re what I’ve been waiting for—a man who makes me weak in the knees just to look at him. But I’m not taking this seriously, so don’t let that spook you,” she quickly clarified.
“I’d really like you to stop talking,” he said, and that was okay because she’d been having a hard time thinking since he’d unfastened her bra.
“Right. No more talking.”
“That solves one problem.”
“We have another?”
“I’m covered in soot. Put on that sexy thing you bought from Victoria’s Secret while I have a shower.”
Was he really going to take time for a shower? “I was going to return that bustier.”
“No way. I’m not missing out. Give me five minutes,” he said, and pulled off his shirt as he headed to her bathroom.
* * *
Callie hadn’t been this nervous in years. She put Rifle in the yard and covered the broken window with cardboard. Then she donned the bustier and panties and covered them with a short, silky robe. She also smoothed lotion over her arms and legs and sprayed on some perfume. But by the time she heard the shower stop, she’d just about talked herself into calling off the whole thing. She was exploiting Levi’s ignorance when it came to her situation, and she had no right.
What do I do? That question whirled through her head a million times. But when he emerged from the bathroom
completely nude, hair wet and uncombed and curling slightly around his ears, she still had no answer—just a rush of hormones to contend with.
“You look a little unsure,” he said, his eyes narrowing. He caught on quickly.
“And you look even better than I expected,” she whispered.
When he grinned at her words, every nerve in her body tingled in anticipation. This was going to be the experience she’d long imagined, where she wanted to make love so badly she could hardly breathe. She had to take advantage of the opportunity, before she got too sick to feel desire, didn’t she? Liver disease could cause impotence in men; she was glad it hadn’t yet affected her libido. At least not on good days like today.
She managed to put up a hand before he could get too close. “Maybe...maybe we’re being foolish. We should think about this. I haven’t been making the best decisions of late.”
Considering his state of arousal, she was no longer worried about his ability to perform. Whatever had been holding him back certainly wasn’t physical. That was apparent.
He didn’t seem to hear her, didn’t acknowledge her halting words. “I admit that robe is pretty, but I’m far more interested in what’s underneath,” he said. “How about you take it off? Let me see you in that...whatever you call it.”
She edged around the foot of the bed. “Bustier.”
“That’s it.”
Tempted in spite of her reservations, she toyed with the ends of the belt. “Wouldn’t you like to...to talk about this first?”
“Haven’t I already made the answer to that question clear? What I’d like is to feel you against me.”
He continued to advance on her, but she backed away an equal number of steps. “You were hesitant,” she pointed out. “You didn’t want me.”
“Not true. It’s complicated. But I’m not holding back anymore.”
She swallowed hard. “You must’ve had a reason for holding back in the first place.”
“I don’t want to think about that.”
“You will later, whether you want to or not.”
“I’ll deal with it in my own time.”
“See? I’d feel terrible if you regretted it later. I prefer to imagine you happy as you drive off into the sunset—and to think that you’ll smile when you remember me.”
