by Brenda Bryce
Under his breath, she heard Kyle grumble that, yes, it did indeed suck. Keeping his distance behind her, he followed her to her little house. He had his hands in his pockets and his head down, kicking at dirt clods. Lannie, when she glanced back at him, thought he looked like a five-year-old who had just been reprimanded.
Being the strong, emotionally impervious type, she ignored him. He wouldn’t get around her by looking cute. No way would she fall for that. He was a grown man, responsible for his own actions, and he was the one who had ruined their relationship, not her. She could be stoic about this and not be affected by his downtrodden expression. Really.
Recalling the incident in question, she remembered that he hadn’t hurt her, well, except for the bite. He hadn’t done any physical damage to her, just angered her and given her a permanent, itchy hicky. But he had taken something from her. Taken something she had to have to stay in a relationship with a man -- her trust. He’d lost her when he hadn’t trusted her and hadn’t listened when she had tried to tell the truth. If a situation couldn’t be talked about rationally, then the relationship would never make it anyway. Now she wasn’t interested.
Looking back, Lannie had known Kyle was hers the minute she had seen him. Her body had wanted his, and she was going to be his woman, come hell or high water. But the way he had ignored what she wanted to give him -- her love and trust -- struck her as wrong, and that had made her mad as hell. No matter how much he proclaimed that he loved her, he obviously hadn’t. Love needed trust to survive. At least she had found out before the wedding that he had so little trust in her. She wouldn’t have wanted her children growing up in a home bereft of love and trust like she had. It was a leave-him-or-kill-him choice, and he damn well wasn’t worth jail time.
While the memories of that day bounced around in her head, she also, fleetingly, touched on how the rumors had started in the first place. She didn’t know who had lied or why and didn’t really care. Kyle had believed others over her and had the nerve to not listen to her ... about anything. Just the thought of that still made her fume.
Stomping to her door, she reached into her pants pocket and grabbed her keys. Suddenly she remembered her wagon. Gritting her teeth, she unlocked her door and stepped into the house. Slamming the door behind her, she hurried over to the phone and reached for the phone book. Looking up and dialing the number for the diner, she waited for someone to answer.
Without knocking, Kyle strode through the front door, saw she was on the phone, and sat down on the couch. “If you’re calling the police, they’ll have a fight on their hands if they try to arrest me.”
Scowling, mostly because she hadn’t thought of that first, she turned her back on him. A cheery “hello” sounded on the other end of the line as the diner extension was answered.
“This is Lannie Michaels. Yes, I’m fine; I can take care of that man. No, I don’t need any help, thank you. Look,” she interrupted before the excited waitress could go off on a tangent about what had happened, “I seem to have forgotten my wagon out front of the diner. Could you do me a favor and keep it safe until I can come and pick it up later? Thanks, I appreciate it.” She dropped the receiver into its cradle and slowly turned toward her nemesis.
She opened her mouth to blast him, then decided it would be futile. She snapped her mouth closed and turned away from him. Hoping that ignoring him would reflect her feelings better than yelling at him had, she entered the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. It was still empty.
Ticked now that he had totally ruined her day, she slammed the fridge closed, and after a quick check of her pockets to make sure she still had the essentials, keys and wallet, she waltzed right past a curious Kyle and headed straight out the front door again.
Hoping to burn off some mad before she had to face people, she decided to walk back to town. Moving more quickly this time and because her temper was fueling her energy level, she didn’t notice the time passing until she looked up and saw the door of the diner. The bell rang as she entered, and Lannie called out a “hello.” There were a few people left over from the lunch rush still in the diner, and they turned to look at her.
Searching for her wagon, hoping it was in sight and therefore within grab-and-go reach, Lannie was disappointed when she didn’t immediately see it. None of the customers spoke, only eyed her curiously. Embarrassment washed over her, and she could feel massive tingling at the top of her head and the tightening and twisting of her stomach.
Hating the feelings of embarrassment that were washing over her and determined to brazen it out, at least until she had retrieved her property and taken herself out of sight of the curious onlookers, she called out to the waitress she had spoken to on the phone.
The swinging door between the kitchen and the dining area opened, and the woman appeared. She took one long look at Lannie and rushed over to her, taking her hands and examining her thoroughly. Lannie wondered what the woman was looking for, then remembered the scene she and Kyle had enacted.
“I’m fine. He’s in more danger from me than I am from him.” Knowing that would not pacify the townspeople, she sighed and gave them a quick rundown. “We were dating and I broke it off. Then I came here.”
Luckily, even that brief explanation was enough for the locals. There was much murmuring, nodding, and shaking of heads. Small towns were like that. Give them a crumb, and they could go on with their lives. Unrelieved curiosity, however, could cause problems later on. Besides, she liked that the people would care one way or another what happened to her. Going back to their coffee and gossip, the diners finally took their attention off Lannie.
“I would like to pick up my wagon now, if you don’t mind.” She dredged up a smile, to let the waitress know she wasn’t upset. “I still have some errands to run and would like to get back home before it gets too late.”
“Sure, hon, it’s ’round back. Come on through. We’ll get it and get you on your way.”
The woman, who had a tag pinned to her chest with the name Delia on it, pushed through the swinging door to the kitchen. Lannie followed and was escorted past a well-organized kitchen, an office, some employee lockers, and out the back door.
Her wagon was parked near the door. She grasped the handle, turned and thanked Delia, then rounded the building toward the front.
Entering the market, Lannie remembered that she hadn’t eaten. Just one more sin to pin on Kyle. Now she was going to have to shop hungry. Junk-food aisle, here I come.
Kyle watched the door close behind Lannie. Now what? He couldn’t very well pack her up and drag her home, no matter how much he wanted to. This was going to take time and patience.
He pulled out his cell phone and dialed. When the extension picked up, he spoke into it rapidly, firing out information. “I found my mate. In Nowhere. That’s right, Nowhere. A dink-water town approximately one hundred and fifty miles from home. I don’t know ... look it up on a map search engine if you want to know. Right. I’m going to be here until I get her back.”
Listening silently for a moment, he glanced around the room. “Yes, as a matter of fact, you can send a truck with the usual stuff. Thanks. I will expect your call when it’s on the way so I can give you an address to give to the driver.”
Finished, he disconnected the call and put the cell phone away. Rubbing the back of his neck, he wondered what the next step should be. Hoping for some clues to help him out, he wandered around the house looking at her possessions. Small handcrafted items were everywhere. He wondered if she had made them all herself or if she had purchased them.
She’d always had some sort of crafty project going, usually several, and from the multitudes of completed items, she must never leave the house. Good, if she’s at home and busy, she isn’t out meeting some other male.
The house smelled of Lannie and only Lannie. His nose might not be as sensitive as a hunter’s, but it was good enough to pick out his mate’s particular odor. Her scent permeated every nook and cranny. That relieved him and caused the knot in
his stomach to loosen a bit. Since her disappearance, he had been working on an ulcer. He had responsibilities to his family that couldn’t be ignored while he hunted down and retrieved his mate, and just the stress of not being able to find her almost sent him over the edge. Days had turned into weeks and weeks into months, and time had taken its own toll.
He stood still for several minutes, eyes closed, just taking in her distinctive scent. Concentrating, he noticed it was slightly different than before. There was a trace of his own scent imbedded in hers. How had that happened? He had never heard anything like that being possible. Especially since they hadn’t had intercourse. Yet.
Making a mental note to talk to Amalee -- his resident doctor -- about that, he opened his eyes and continued his inspection of her house. She hadn’t left with many of her personal items from her apartment, so most everything was new.
Kyle came to a room beyond the kitchen that was accessible to the outside of the house by a door on the back wall. There was a long table and tall, comfortable-looking stools in the middle of the room. On the table were leather-wrapped bundles, in which, after examining them, he found tools. Tools such as he had seen in her apartment, but here she had a larger collection. Lannie must be spending more of her time on her artwork.
Many times, he had shown up at her apartment to find her covered in clay and who knew what else, tired, hungry, and happy, bursting with enthusiasm to show him her newest creation. She would pull him into the small second bedroom she called her studio and wait expectantly for him to praise her work.
He had. Even though the small, very feminine sculptures weren’t to his personal taste, he still thought they had great detail, and the work was exceptionally fine.
The finished items he could see in this new workshop were very different from her previous work. Looking around, he saw monsters, creatures, and nightmares. He spit out a curse, knowing the change in her subject matter was his doing. She must have taken her frustration out in the form of these notoriously evil beings. Wondering how badly he had angered her, he studied the drying figurines.
Eight to eighteen inches tall, the statues stood in rows. They were intricately detailed, from the individual hairs on the figures’ heads, right down to the creases and smudges on the shoes. Vampires with swirling capes, mummies with trailing wrappings, werewolves with snarling snouts. There were others, as well, and each of them was highly detailed and straight out of a bad dream.
Rubbing the ache in his chest, Kyle took a last look around the workroom before turning to leave it. Heading for the door, two things caught his attention. On either side of the door were some special pieces. Both were busts. Shoulders, neck, and head only. Superb work. Stirring.
Both busts were of him, and he staggered back from the implications of what he was seeing. On the left of the door, she had caught him smiling, relaxed, and even he could see the love shining from the eyes.
The bust on the right, though, almost killed him. The face was fierce with anger and hatred. Meanness radiated from it as if it were a living entity.
God, was this how she had seen him that day? The hatred he’d felt for Pete telling him what he did, and his hurt because of it, had manifested into this ... this thing that she felt necessary to reproduce in clay for her to see and remind herself for all time? His hands reached for the abomination, but he wouldn’t let himself take the easy way out and destroy the reminder. He was going to have to tough it out and spend the rest of his life attempting to make her forget that day.
* * * * *
Tugging hard, Lannie pulled the wagon from the mud and back onto the pavement. Stupid thing had purposely run itself into the ditch. It wasn’t like she had intentionally forgotten it at the diner. Picking up the scattered groceries, she grumbled at the recalcitrant wagon, “Paybacks are unnecessary and my ice cream is melting. Let’s get home; then you can have a temper tantrum. I know I’m going to.”
Huffing and puffing, she finally made it to the house. Wagon, groceries, melty ice cream, and all. Sitting hard on the top step, Lannie tried to catch her breath before she had to haul the stuff into the house and put it all away.
Behind her, the door opened, and Lannie spun on her bottom toward the shadow that emerged. Kyle stood framed in the doorway. His face was in shadow, but his stance in the open doorway caused her to flash back to another time. Her eyes widened, and she scurried frantically away from him and tumbled down the stairs.
Chapter Three
Without saying a word or making any sudden moves, Kyle stepped out of the shadowed doorway and reached for the wagon. Lifting it, he carried it into the house, leaving the door open for Lannie.
He carried the full wagon into the kitchen, set it on the floor, and started to put the food away. After several items, he shook his head. “This isn’t food, it’s munchies. I’ll have to get you some real food. It isn’t healthy to live on cookies, chips, and ice cream. Do you know the closest thing you have to food is microwaveable pocket sandwiches and frozen burritos? Unacceptable.”
Lannie stood in the middle of the kitchen and watched Kyle put away her groceries. He was still shaking his head and mumbling. Well, poop on him. If he didn’t like her selections, he could just go through someone else’s kitchen. It’s not like she was going to invite him to eat with her anyway.
Hmphing inelegantly, she stomped to the counter. Placing one hand on Kyle’s upper arm, she pushed him out of the way. Naturally, he didn’t move, but apparently she got her point across. These were her things, and he didn’t need to be messing with them. He stepped aside and let her complete the job.
“Have you been eating like this the whole time you’ve been missing?”
“I have not been missing, I’ve been here.”
“That doesn’t answer my question, Lannie.”
“Actually, I was ignoring it. I’m a big girl and don’t need you bagging on me.” Continuing to put away her groceries, she diligently tried to pretend he wasn’t there.
Kyle shook his head. “So, I’m to assume that you have been eating like this for two months? No wonder you look wan. You need to eat and take care of yourself properly.”
She turned toward him, hand on hip, and barely managed to contain a growl. “Or what? You will?”
“Absolutely.”
“Grrr. You make me insane. Do you know that?” Having finished putting the last items away, she folded the bags, then pulled the wagon to the back door.
Glaring at Kyle, who was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, Lannie headed for her workroom. She knew she couldn’t get rid of him until he was ready to leave, and pounding clay might just keep her out of prison for manslaughter.
Taking a deep, calming breath, she froze in the middle of the living room. Turning, she scowled at Kyle. “You’ve been messing with my stuff, haven’t you?”
He looked stunned, but she didn’t give him a chance to answer before she growled and stalked off.
She pulled on her leather apron, pulled off the lid, and dug her hands into the bucket that held her wet clay. Slapping a generous double handful onto the marble slab that she used, she punched both fists into the mound. Over and over she ground her fists into the pliable, gooey substance and let out her frustrations.
Kyle watched from the doorway. He couldn’t take his eyes from her. Taking in the curve of her face, the fan of her long, pale lashes, and the length of her neck, he wanted to touch, but knew she wouldn’t be receptive. He wondered how she had known he had been through her house. She hadn’t been guessing, she seemed positive that he had done it. He eyed her speculatively.
Taking a deep breath, he sighed. Temporary retreat being the better part of valor, he approached her, slid a finger under her chin, and lifted her face to him. Before she could protest, he placed a kiss on her lips and stepped back.
“I’ll see you later. Be sure to eat something nutritious.”
“Argh! Eat this!” She took a giant handful of the clay and hefted it above her shoulder, then
lobbed it in his direction. When it hit the wall, missing him by millimeters as he stepped out the door, she cursed. “Don’t come back, either, or I’ll really get nasty!”
Kyle chuckled as he clicked the lock, closed the front door, and started the trek back to town. His car was there, and he had things to do.
It didn’t take long to procure a rental home near Lannie’s, and soon a truck with his equipment showed up. His men set up the room he designated as the office quickly and efficiently. As soon as they finished, he sent them on their way with his thanks. He returned to his makeshift office and got to work.
* * * * *
He drove his car through the quiet town, looking left and right as he cruised the main street. With the driver’s-side window down, he inhaled deeply through his nose, scenting, tasting, everyone and everything that had passed this way.
He chuckled evilly. This town could be an amusement. He needed the release.
Eleven p.m., and the whole town was silent. There were no houses in the vicinity, just businesses. Closed stores lined the deserted streets. Except for the diner. The Greasy Spoon. He’d always liked that euphemism and the way it rolled off his tongue. It was actually called Nowhere Diner, but that lacked finesse. The car slowed to a complete stop a block away from the establishment, and the driver turned the headlights off. The engine purred quietly, and the man inside the car watched and waited.
Soon enough, the lights of the diner dimmed and a woman in a cotton-candy-pink uniform came out, chirping goodnights to the burly man in stained whites.
“’Night, Ralph. See you in the morning.” The woman waved as she walked away.
“You, too, Delia. Sleep tight.” Ralph closed and locked the door behind the departing waitress, turned the sign to CLOSED, then headed for the kitchen.
The driver of the car chuckled. Perfect. And no witnesses. Just the way he liked it. The waitress walked slowly toward the crosswalk. He watched as she looked both ways. Her eyes actually paused on his car, but she didn’t see him and she continued on. When she began crossing the street, he pressed hard on the gas pedal and squealed his way across the intersection. The woman froze in the crosswalk and then took off running for the sidewalk. She almost made it. Almost wasn’t good enough.
