Storm's Interlude

by Vonnie Davis

  Rachel sat back in her chair and folded her arms. “Okay, Mr. Chief of Police. How did you know Kyle’s full name? I never told Sunny what it was.”

  Noella picked Sawyer out of his booster seat. “Miss Sunny, I’ll give him his bath tonight while the three of you talk. Come on, my sweet boy, what toys do you want in your bath?”

  Sunny waited until the housekeeper and child were out of earshot, then turned to Jackson. “I never told you a thing about her ex-fiancé. How did you know his name or that he’d be threatening her?” Both women glared at him, waiting.

  “Man, can’t believe I screwed up like that.” Jackson sat back in his chair and rubbed both hands over his face.

  “Jackson, out with it.” The tone of Sunny’s voice clearly indicated she expected a reply. “Didn’t we just promise each other honesty?”

  Jackson sighed audibly, then nodded. “Yeah, sugar, we did. I did a background check on Rachel before Storm agreed to you hiring her. There were police reports of domestic violence incidents and vandalism, followed by a restraining order against one Kyle Benson.”

  “You investigated me? Me, personally, not professionally.” Of all the nerve. Suddenly, she felt violated. This man knew all her personal stuff. Not that she had anything to hide. Still…

  Jackson’s gaze on her was steady. “You have to realize this woman sitting next to me is the most important person in my life. Storm’s, too. So when he asked…”

  “This was Storm’s idea?” She snatched the phone, stood and shoved it into her pocket, fairly trembling with outrage. “I expect people to check out my professional credentials, demand it, in fact. But to delve and probe through my personal life makes me feel like you’ve rummaged through my panty drawer to see if I prefer thongs to bikinis. The next time I see Storm I’m going to give him a piece of my mind.” She picked up her plate and silverware and carried them to the sink.

  Jackson followed. “Look, I don’t see anything wrong with what we did. Would you invite a total stranger to live in your home without first making sure he or she wasn’t a criminal? A child molester or a thief? Even educated people, credentialed people do unspeakable things. Storm was only protecting his family, as any man worth his salt would do.”

  She turned to face him, angry, hurt and embarrassed that her personal life had been picked and prodded through. “I see your logic, but I don’t have to like it. Does Storm know about Kyle, about the abuse?”

  “Storm’s concern was that you had no police record, no history of wrongdoing. Since you were the victim, a squeaky clean victim, I saw no need to divulge any information about the attacks on your property or your person. Now, you gonna tell me about that phone call?” He looked every inch the lawman. Brash. Determined. Fierce.

  “Someone broke into my best friend’s apartment and stole her laptop.” She exhaled a long sigh, then shared the details of Grace’s break-in. The uneasiness over Kyle returned. He’d read all her emails to Grace; she was sure of it. E-mails where she shared her true feelings about Storm. She turned and stared out the window. She had to get away. Had to.

  Jackson gently laid a hand on her shoulder. “You can’t keep running.”

  “Gee, a lawman who’s psychic.” She turned and gazed into his concerned eyes. “Sunny, you’re a lucky woman to be loved by a man like this. He may appear gruff, but he’s got a good heart.”

  Sunny approached and stood behind Jackson, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I’ve always known what a good man he is, even when he was acting like an ass. That’s behind us now.”

  He turned and wrapped an arm around Sunny, kissing her forehead. Their love was so palpable, the room nearly filled with it. His attention returned to her. “Rachel, you’d better call Grace. Tell her you’ve gotten a call from Benson. If he has your new number, then he’s the one who stole the laptop. She needs to relay that information to the police in Yazoo City.”

  She nodded. “Yeah, guess you’re right.” Just then her phone chirped, indicating the arrival of a text message. Her stomach twisted. Her hand trembled when she swiped the text key.

  “no where ur at. coming 2 get u bitch. maybe I’ll hurt that man u got hots 4 or snatch that kid.”

  Terror! Every muscle in her body tensed. Hurt Storm? Snatch Sawyer? No. Dear God, no. She started trembling. She had to get away. Had to remove the danger from this ranch, from these people she’d come to love so much.

  “Rachel, you’re trembling.” Jackson took the cell phone from her hand, laid it on the kitchen counter, then helped her to her chair. “Sugar, get her some brandy or somethin’.”

  “Sure.” Sunny returned a minute later, extending a squat glass containing amber liquid. “Drink this now.”

  Rachel sipped, choked and raised the back of her hand to her lips. “What…what is that?”

  Sunny chuckled. “Some of Storm’s best whiskey. Aged to perfection, or so he claims. Take another sip.”

  Rachel sipped. Warmth burned in her throat and stomach, spreading outward. She’d need a gallon of this stuff to dull the fear. Kyle had threatened to take Sawyer, to hurt the man she loved. How could she remove the danger from them? How could she protect them? There was only one way. She swallowed and closed her eyes; a shudder went through her. She’d have to give herself to Kyle.

  Jackson held her phone. “What’s Grace’s number? I’ll call her. Tell her what information she needs to pass onto the police there.”

  “It’s on speed dial. Press three.” She took another sip. The trembling had subsided. While her mind focused on what she had to do, she vaguely heard Jackson’s conversation with Grace. She had to keep Storm and Sawyer safe. Kyle was capable of anything. She had to get away from the ranch. Her eyes slid to Sunny, who was standing next to Jackson. She could hire a replacement to work with Sunny. Give the new nurse her notes and treatment plans and schedules. Until she hired that person, everyone would be safer is she stayed somewhere else.

  She set the glass on the table. “Is there a motel in Rosefire?”

  Sunny turned to her, eyes wide. “You’re leaving me?”

  “No. I’ll still come here during the days, but I don’t need to live here to do my job.”

  “No, you’re not going.” Sunny hugged Rachel. “You’ll be safer here.”

  True, but Storm and little Sawyer wouldn’t be. Visions of that sweet child sleeping in his bed upstairs floated to her. For now, he was safe; she’d do whatever was needed to keep him that way. She had to deflect Kyle’s attention. She’d move into a motel and send him a text, telling him she wasn’t staying here anymore. While she was seeking her replacement, she’d convince Sunny it was for the best and that her care wouldn’t be compromised.

  “Do you think Kyle will come here? Is that why you’re doing this?” Sunny’s face was shadowed with worry.

  Rachel shrugged. “The last thing you or little Sawyer needs is the drama Kyle can create. It’ll be better if that drama happens away from here. He’ll show up, rant and rave and then he’ll leave.”

  Sunny hugged her harder. “What if he hurts you? I couldn’t bear it. Stay. Between the four of us, we can fight him off.”

  “The four of us? Surely you aren’t including Storm. He avoids me. He’ll be glad to see the back of my head as I make that final turn in the driveway. I wish he didn’t feel that way about me, but he does. He’s barely spoken to me since…since we had that argument.” She could hear the pain in her own voice, the tremble of it. She cleared her throat and looked into Sunny’s eyes. “It’s just as well I spend less time here on the ranch, don’t you think?”

  “Maybe it’s better she goes.” Jackson placed his hands on Sunny’s shoulders. “I’ll keep an eye on her. Post one of my deputies at the motel.” Sunny shook her head. “Sugar, you’ll still see her every day.”

  ****

  Storm had been in a foul mood for days. He wiped down Lightning after their long, strenuous late-night ride. “Enjoy that extra ration of oats, buddy. You earned it after that rid
e tonight.” The horse nickered and nodded. “I needed the ride more than you’ll ever know. Felt good to charge into the wind, be at one with the elements. It felt good against my battered face.” He kept up his rhythmic brushing.

  “Dad used to take a lot of late-night rides. Now I know why. He was trying to outride the memory of Mother, just like I was trying to ease my need for Rachel.” He kept brushing while his monologue continued. “Been a hell of a week, Lightning. Made me think of Dad. What a good man he was, even with a broken heart. They don’t make many men like Sawyer Silverfeather Blackhawk anymore. Always hoped I’d measure up to the old man. Haven’t of late, but figure I’m on the right track now.

  “I’ve been worried about Rachel. She looked so wounded that evening when she came down the steps for dinner after our interlude in the den. Had she regretted our time on the sofa? That I’d brought her to climax? Her eyes had been swollen from crying, which really bothered me. If she’d been crying, I should have been holding her in my arms. A man comforts the woman he loves—and God help me, I do love her.”

  He relived her massage and the feel of her hands on him, the feel of his hands on her. She’d been like sweet liquid fire in his arms. Responsive. Incendiary. The spitfire had branded his soul for all of eternity.

  For the first time, he understood why his dad could never get over his mother, even though she’d left him high and dry with two little kids to raise on his own. Sometimes, if a man was lucky enough, he met a woman who not only stirred his libido but touched his heart and embraced his soul. Colleen had been that woman for his dad. Rachel was that woman for him.

  He loved that she was so patient with Sawyer. The child had been whiny and fussy before Rachel’s arrival at the Triple-S. Tension from Sunny’s illness no doubt affected the little fellow.

  However, Rachel had that take-charge quality that dispelled the pressure. Her philosophy was to make a plan and stick to it. Find out what worked and mold it to fit the patient and the family. He’d watched her infuse her education, determination and hope into his sister. Hell, into the whole household. She had a noble way of giving of herself. He’d never met anyone like her.

  If he were honest, he wasn’t a hundred percent sure Rachel would give him a chance, even now that he’d made damn sure Pilar understood they were really and truly finished. Rachel might still refuse him. A man should love his wife so much he’d lay down his life for her, and there was only one woman he felt that way about.

  For the first time in his life, he understood what his father meant all those years when he rebuked suggestions from friends to find another woman. “There’s only one woman for me,” Sawyer Blackhawk would say. “Even if Colleen has moved on, my love goes with her, stays with her.”

  “Dad sure did love our mother,” Storm grumbled to the horse. “Lord knows she didn’t deserve it.” Lightning nickered and nudged Storm’s pocket. “Yeah, I got a cube of sugar. What’cha gonna do about it?” He chuckled as the horse stepped closer, obviously smelling the sugar. He offered Lightning a cube on his open, outstretched hand.

  “I shouldn’t have taken Pilar to the art exhibit the other night. Should have refused her when she called, instead of hurting Rachel.” He started grooming the horse again. “Some men don’t mind if they hurt a woman. Not me. Oh, I can be blunt. Maybe even a tad rude. We both know I’ve got a hell of a temper, but I take no pleasure in hurting a woman.

  “Bad enough I had to look at all those paintings that looked as though they were painted with someone’s feet, but then Pilar dragged me to a party. Loud. Glitzy. Glamorous. Boring as hell. Know what I mean, Lightning?” The horse nodded and nickered. On the way home that night, too weary to make the long drive, he’d pulled under a grove of live oaks and slept.

  Rachel was just starting her run when he pulled in the long gravel driveway the next morning, his tuxedo shirt wrinkled and his black bowtie undone. The look of pain and scorn she shot him made him feel like the underbelly of a slug.

  He spent the day agonizing over how to stay out of her way until he could tell her he’d broken things off completely with his ex-fiancée. Then he and Rachel needed to have a long talk about their feelings.

  The next afternoon, Pilar called—groggy, incoherent—rambling about not wanting to live without him. She told him she’d taken an overdose of pills. Although he refused to go to her, he did call 911 to have them send an ambulance to her condo. After that, he blocked her number.

  Two days later, Storm was helping a mare foal a colt when Tanner Fontaine, Pilar’s father barged in the stable, red-faced, his fists curled and barreled chest heaving. “Blackhawk, you coldhearted sombitch, I’m going to beat the hell outta you. My little girl is just now out of danger. You drove her to do what she did.”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way, Tanner. But I am glad Pilar’s doing better.”

  Tanner’s eyes narrowed. “You miserable, self-centered bastard!” His clenched fist landed squarely in Storm’s eye. He’d been braced for it. Even so, he staggered back a step. “Pilar’s been fighting for her life because of you.” Another fist landed to Storm’s jaw. Pain exploded.

  Ben came running behind old man Fontaine and banded his arms around him. “I’ll hold him while you hit him, boss.”

  “No.” Storm wiped the blood from his face. “He has a right to defend his daughter. I told Pilar I never wanted to see her again. In the process, I hurt her feelings. Tanner, you’ve made your point. I haven’t fought back because I figure I owe you a few pounds of my flesh.” Storm jerked his head toward Ben. “Let him go. His business here is done. Tanner, get off my property.”

  The old man stomped to his Esclade. He slammed his door, threw gravel as he made a wide u-turn and sped out the lane.

  “That man is trouble,” Ben said.

  Storm wiped his face with his handkerchief. “Yeah, and his daughter came by her temper honestly. She’d damn spoiled.” The mare nickered in pain and Storm dropped to his knees, by her side, speaking in soft tones. “Thanks for diffusing the situation, Ben. I’m not afraid to fight my battles, but sometimes you earn an ass pounding. At least in a protective father’s opinion. Hell, my dad would have reacted the same way over Sunny.”

  By the time Storm stepped into the house later that night, the house was dark. He knocked on Noella’s door.

  “Sí, sí…I’m coming.” The door slowly opened, her hands tugging the ties of her worn robe. “Child, what happened to you?” She wrapped her arms around him and held him to her. Comfort. She always brought him comfort. From the time he’d been little, he’d sought out Noella for comfort. “You tell Noella. Sí?” He nodded. “Come, you need ice.”

  Storm sat on one of the kitchen chairs while she rummaged in the freezer for bags of peas.

  “Here, hold this to your face. I’ll make coffee and we’ll talk.” She shook a finger at him the way she’d done countless times in his life. “You’d better not lie to me.”

  He held the bag of frozen peas to his eye. “The night I took Pilar to the art show, I told her I never wanted to see or hear from her again.”

  Noella crossed herself. “Thank God! It was hard on you, sí? I know how you hate hurting people. I change my mind. I think we’ll have some of that good scotch your father always favored late at night when he needed to talk.”

  Storm watched her move gracefully around her kitchen. She returned with two thick glasses containing amber liquid. One she placed in front of him. With the other glass in hand, she took a chair directly opposite him. “I’ve never known you to indulge, Mama Noella.”

  “Sawyer insisted on it. Claimed he didn’t want to drink alone.” She smiled as if lost in a favored memory. “He said a man who drank alone was on his way to becoming an alcoholic.”

  Dawning registered. Why hadn’t the thought occurred to him previously? “You loved him, didn’t you? Why didn’t I see that before?”

  She shrugged. “It was a love that was never returned. For your father, there was only Colleen.”<
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  He reached out and took her hand. “I’m sorry. I think you would have made Dad very happy, just as you’ve made us happy. You made a great deal of difference in the lives of two abandoned kids. You had our love. You still do. I hope you know that.”

  Noella nodded. “Sí. You two were my bambinos from the time Colleen brought you home from the hospital. What a joy you both were. You mustn’t hold onto ill feelings of her. She was a troubled woman, never meant to be a rancher’s wife or a mother. She was homesick for Ireland.”

  “You gave us everything our biological mother wouldn’t or couldn’t.” He sipped at the scotch and studied her. “Did Dad know?”

  She stared into her glass. “What? About my feelings?” She shrugged. “Perhaps, but it was something we never discussed. He would never betray his wedding vows, and I would never accept a married man’s advances. So I said my confession religiously for loving and desiring a married man.” She crossed herself. “May God forgive me. Now, tell Noella how you got that black eye and swollen jaw.”

  “Pilar called a couple days ago, sounding disoriented and weak. Said she’d taken pills.”

  “Madre de Dios! She tried to kill herself?” The woman made the sign of the cross again.

  Storm nodded. “I wasn’t sure if she was being honest or playing another one of her tricks, so I called an ambulance. I never went to her. I meant what I’d said. Our relationship is over.”

  Noella leaned toward Storm, concern on her face. “Is she okay?”

  Storm nodded again and drained his glass in one long swallow, hissed at the burning, the numbing. “When her father showed up here this afternoon, he wanted some revenge.” Storm pulled the bag of peas from his bruised and swollen face, replacing it with another frozen bag.

  “He’s her father. Of course he’d be upset, but to attack you?” Her eyes narrowed. “What did you do in retaliation?”