Love Inspired Suspense June 2015 #1

by Margaret Daley

  “That’s not fair.” He leaned in, eyes beady. “You broke my heart. I’ve apologized for…losing my cool. You know very well it happened only because I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. We had been together since high school. You promised me forever. Then…this.” He jutted his head to the side to refer to the Victorian behind them. “I was losing you to a heap of rotting wood. You can’t blame me for being in pain. You caused it. And all I wanted was for you to feel the same way.”

  Billy reached for her upper arms and his fingers sank deeply into her flesh. One wrong move on either of their parts, and she would lose her footing and fall to her death.

  She heard the water crashing over the rocks below. The large, unmovable boulders along Stepping Stones Island were how the island got its name. They’d always made her feel protected and at peace the way they surrounded the island like a shield to the world. Now they were targets for her body to crash against.

  “Is everything well, Gretchen?” a familiar Irish brogue asked from behind Billy’s towering figure.

  Billy turned his head, bringing Colm into her view.

  Gretchen exhaled a sigh of relief.

  But she wasn’t safe yet. One slip was all it would take. Colm must have realized this, too, because he kept his distance. The way his hands fisted at his sides made her realize it was hard for him to stand back.

  Billy’s fingers squeezed her flesh harder, bringing her attention back to the man who held her life in his hands. How would he react to being caught? Did he care anymore if there were witnesses to his threatening tactics?

  “Gretchen, it’s not safe for you to be this close to the ledge,” Billy said, his voice laced with concern.

  Concern she knew to be fake. He liked her on the ledge. It gave him the upper hand.

  Billy pulled her against his chest, his hands still clenched to her upper arms. With her face plastered against him she couldn’t see his eyes to determine what he planned next. She felt his fingers dig into her again, a clear warning to go along with it. For the moment, she’d have to oblige.

  “You’re right, Billy,” she said. “I shouldn’t be out here. I wasn’t thinking. My head was hurting me, and I came to sit down.”

  “What’s wrong with your head?”

  “It was just a little accident,” she answered, not wanting to tell him the whole truth.

  He squeezed her arms to remind her of his strength and to demand that she tell him the rest of the story.

  “The lumber fell on her,” Colm answered for her. She cringed, wanting to shake her head to tell him not to say anything to upset Billy, but that point was moot. Billy had come here upset.

  Suddenly, Billy let go of her and spun around to rush Colm, saying, “So she’s hurt because of your carelessness? Is that what you’re telling me?” Billy’s finger jammed into Colm’s chest.

  Colm barely flinched. “No, she’s hurt because someone wanted to cause her pain. You wouldn’t happen to know who, would you?”

  Billy turned around and reached for Gretchen. She shrank back and Colm said, “The lady has made it clear she doesn’t want you touching her.” Before she could tell Colm not to bait him, he reached out and grabbed Billy’s arm, causing Billy to swing back to lay a punch on Colm’s face.

  Blood spurted in every direction, but Colm barely responded. He just stood calmly in place.

  The lack of response would perturb Billy even more. That was not how he liked his victims. He liked them sniveling on the floor.

  “Take your crew and get off my island,” Billy demanded.

  “It’s not just your island, and we were invited here to help Gretchen start a new life. If the islanders cared about her, they would see she’s worked hard for this and would support her.”

  Billy brought back his arm to throw another punch. Gretchen started to shout to Colm to watch out. She didn’t get the first syllable out before Colm had Billy’s arm twisted up behind him and the deputy bent over the rock.

  It happened so fast. She’d never seen anything like it.

  “I’ll not be brawlin’ with you,” Colm said with his Irish accent deeper than ever. “But I’ll also not be takin’ any more of your deckin’.” He sounded dangerous, as though he would explode in any minute. She stepped back from the scene, unsure who scared her more. The vise grip Colm had on Billy left her ex helpless and weakening by the second. Billy’s brute strength had nothing on Colm’s.

  Billy grunted and whimpered. He could really be hurt if this went on. Gretchen knew she shouldn’t care, but it wouldn’t solve anything. Billy was a law-enforcement officer, even if he was out of uniform. Colm would be in a lot of trouble.

  “Colm,” she said, “let him go. The town’s just a little on edge lately. I can handle it.”

  Colm cast her an angry glance. “He had his hands on you. If that’s how your town treats you, maybe you should get a new town.”

  “I’ll manage it on my own.”

  “Right.” Colm released Billy with a shove and stepped back. Blood covered Colm’s face. He acted as though it wasn’t the first time he’d been hit. “I’ll let you deal with it your way, but if I see another person touch you like that again, I don’t care who they are, I’ll step in again.”

  Billy got up off his knees and faced Colm. This time, he kept a distance. The look in his eyes, though, showed no fear. “You’ll regret it if you do. This isn’t over.”

  Billy stepped toward the trees but stopped before he reached them. “Send them away, Gretchen, if you know what’s good for you.” He sent a scathing look toward Colm and turned to disappear into the conifers.

  Silence fell between her and Colm. Neither said a word, and he still had yet to wipe away the blood. At least it seemed the flowing had stopped. “Doesn’t that hurt?” she asked, nodding to his face.

  “I’m sorry,” he replied, totally not answering her question. His shoulders slumped and for the first time, he looked as if he was about to fall to his knees. But not from pain. “I’m so sorry for losing it like that.”

  “Losing it? He punched you. You were just defending yourself. And doesn’t that hurt?” she asked again, stepping close, her hand nearly touching his face.

  “You don’t understand. I made a promise. After my da died, my ma remarried a man who lived by his fists and taught me to be just like him. But God rescued me from that violence, and I promised Him I would never be like Gil Griffin again.”

  “Hey, you’re not,” Gretchen said soothingly, even though she wasn’t so sure after what she had just witnessed. She reached for his hand, but it was as if she wasn’t there. She could never convince him of his innocence, not when he believed he’d broken a promise to God. All she could do was help him. She looked toward the house and the crew working about. She saw the trailers in the opposite direction. “Do you have any ice in your trailer?”

  He nodded, but his conflicted eyes didn’t register why she asked.

  “Let’s go. I’ll get you cleaned up. Your nose looks like it might be broken, but I can at least get rid of the blood.”

  Colm let her lead the way. “You don’t have to do this. I know how to clean up my own messes.”

  “I take that to mean you’ve been in this situation before.”

  “Too many times to count.”

  Gretchen didn’t turn to face him. Walking in front of him allowed her to be free with her questions, and hopefully, he would be unguarded with his answers.

  “Where did you learn to fight like that? I mean the way you took Billy down was professional.”

  “It was dirty. Plan and simple. It’s the way I learned to fight.”

  “Where?”

  “In my old life. On the streets of Dublin, love.”

  Gretchen stopped and searched his face. His words could have sounded romantic with his thick accent, but instead she felt as though he had opened an old wound in front of her. It took all her strength not to ask if the dirty street fighter was the real Colm McCrae. She had yet to get a goo
d read on him, but so far the two sides of Colm she’d witnessed didn’t gel at all.

  *

  “Billy Baker is a deputy in the sheriff’s department,” Gretchen said while she removed ice from Colm’s small freezer. She filled a plastic bag, jiggling the cubes as she came to where he leaned against the small dinette table. “After that altercation you can probably expect a visit from Sheriff Owen Matthews.”

  “I hope the man does pay me a visit,” Colm answered. “I’d love to tell him how his deputy manhandled you. I would think an officer of the law would know better. Wouldn’t you?”

  Gretchen held the ice in front of him. She froze as solid as the water. Her eyes flitted side to side before landing on the bag between them.

  “Well, wouldn’t you? The man had no right to touch you. I don’t care if the town is up in arms about your opening a B&B. You should press charges, Gretchen. Don’t let him get away with this.”

  She lifted her sea-blue eyes to his. “No harm done,” she said abruptly as she brought the ice to his swelling face. A hissing sound escaped his throat at the contact. “Except for you, I suppose. For someone who obviously knows how to fight, I’d think you would know how to duck, as well.”

  “You’re changing the subject.”

  “Yes, I am. Now let it go.”

  Colm studied the twitch in her cheek and the guarded look in her eyes. She seemed to be focused on his injury, but he knew the tactic was a cover-up. She closed him out even as she gently took care of him. It would appear the hospitable bed-and-breakfast owner-to-be had hung a shingle over her heart that said No Vacancy.

  “This wouldn’t be the first time I’ve stood alone in protecting a woman from a bully. I’m not afraid.”

  “This, coming from the man who got a busted-up nose for sticking it where it doesn’t belong. Perhaps you might want to rethink this fearlessness.”

  “Never. I’ll take the banjaxed nose any day over allowing some brute to take his anger out on an innocent woman.”

  “Who said I was innocent?”

  Colm spoke from behind the ice bag, “Trust me. No man has a right to put his hands on you, no matter what you think you deserve.”

  “So, how did you go from the streets of Dublin to Hollywood?”

  Another attempt to change the topic. He gave in.

  “I was actually interfering in another incident where a young woman was being accosted. One day I was eating out of garbage cans with my bare hands, the next Troy was handing me caviar on fine china. All because I stood up against an injustice.”

  “I don’t understand. How did that happen? Who was the girl? Someone famous?”

  “No, she was a waitress in a pub. Troy’s crew was filming in Dublin and a few stopped off for a drink. One of them said something off-color to the waitress. I didn’t like it and I said so. Few hours later, he faced me in the alley outside. Not a good move on his part. I really roughed him up, and just as I knocked him out, an officer showed up to arrest me. We were on a first-name basis, the cops and I, so it was my word against the other guy’s. Let’s just say my word didn’t count for much.”

  Her eyes grew skeptical. “But how did a back-alley brawl bring you to fame and fortune?”

  “One word—Troy. He appeared out of the shadows and fixed everything. The next thing I knew, the officer was gone with a payoff from Troy, the crew member was chopped, and I was offered the job of a lifetime. When Troy told me it was a show about renovating old houses, I couldn’t believe it. I jumped at the offer. My da was a carpenter, and now I could get off the streets and follow in his footsteps instead of my stepfather’s. Or at least I thought I could. Troy doesn’t care that I would rather be working on the houses than hosting the shows. He just tells me to smile for the camera. Oh, and talk the way I do. Can’t forget that.”

  Gretchen tilted her head. Colm bit back an appreciative smile. She really was pretty as a picture. “Your accent. Why do you not want to use it?”

  “It’s a sure sign of my roots. Even in Dublin I grew up being bullied for my accent. I worked real hard to lose it, tame it so I would sound more posh, as they say. More D4.”

  “D4?”

  Colm laughed at how silly it sounded. It wasn’t so long ago when it had been all that mattered. “The D4 accent is how the middle class speak in South Dublin. Named for the D4 postcode. But even that wasn’t enough. I wanted to wipe my tongue clean of anything Irish and listened to a lot of BBC pronunciation to help me along.”

  She pulled the ice from his face to look at him. “What’s wrong with being Irish?”

  “Nothing. It just reminds me of things I want to forget.”

  “Like what?”

  “Things I want to forget.”

  “Right, got it.” Gretchen smiled, her lips curved in such a lovely way he nearly reached up to touch them. Her free hand reached toward him and he thought she was of the same mind. She wouldn’t hear him complaining.

  Suddenly a searing pain shot through him, shocking the air right out of him. He might have howled in pain but wasn’t sure because of the screaming agony zipping through his face straight to the back of his head.

  She hadn’t been reaching for his lips, but for his nose.

  “Oh, I’m so, so sorry,” she said. “I thought I could push it back in place if I did it fast enough.”

  Colm breathed and grunted through the pain. “It’s grand. I can handle it. Really. Just grand.” He forced a smile.

  She shook her head with a smirk. “Sure it is, Mr. Tough Guy. And how will you handle your boss when he sees your nose?” She covered his face with the ice again.

  “He’ll probably threaten to fire me. He does that a lot. But I don’t think he will. I’m his bread and butter. I’ll have to compensate him in some way, though.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Simple. I owe him. And he reminds me of this daily.”

  Colm took the bag of ice from her bright pink hand. He reached for her and felt how cold the fingers were from holding the ice for so long. He held on tight and squeezed, willing his warmth to seep in.

  “Gretchen, while we’re talking about Troy, I noticed when the lumber fell on you, he smiled. It could be his twisted sense of humor, but I also couldn’t help but wonder if the two of you had a past together. Perhaps when he came to the island to interview you. Had the two of you dated?”

  Gretchen inhaled sharply. She ripped her hand from his grasp and said adamantly, “I will never date another man ever again. Ever.”

  “‘Again’? Bad experience in college?”

  “I never went to college. In fact, I’ve barely left the island for more than a quick visit to the mainland. My boyfriend never wanted me to stray too far.”

  “Boyfriend? Sounds a little overprotective—wait. The deputy. That brute is your boyfriend?”

  “He was my boyfriend. Not anymore.”

  “Are you sure he knows that? From what I could see he hasn’t accepted your dismissal.” Rampant thoughts crowded Colm’s head. “You know what this means, don’t you? Your deputy has motive. He could be the one who cut your floor, and not because you want to open a B&B, but because you dared to go against him.”

  Gretchen’s eyes drifted closed, but no argument formed on her lips.

  “I can see this idea doesn’t surprise you. Something you’ve already thought through?”

  A knock sounded on the metal door. “Colm, daylight wanes,” Sly called. “Troy wants you out here. We still have hours of filming tonight.”

  Gretchen turned, taking the opportunity to beat a fast retreat.

  “Not so fast!” Colm stopped her with his commanding words. “Deputy Baker is the man who hurt you before, isn’t he?”

  Her small shoulders rose and fell, but no denials came his way.

  A sudden burst of anger roared through him, so familiar he knew it would always be a part of him. He would never escape it. No matter how far he ran from those slummy streets of Dublin, from the heavy fists of his stepfathe
r, this feeling of having no control over this heated response would stay with him forever.

  Father God, help me to control my need to take matters into my own hands. Colm clenched his fists but kept immobile, not trusting what he would do if he went after the guy; he knew the deputy would surely pay the price for Colm’s backslide. This small woman standing in front of him had felt the strength of Baker’s hands. So why shouldn’t the lawman feel Colm’s? The rationale whirled through his mind with not a single counterargument to sway him to stay.

  Except his promise to God.

  Colm relaxed. “Did you contact the sheriff when Baker hurt you?” he asked quietly.

  No answer. Now her no-vacancy sign blared bright neon pink. She wasn’t going to share anything with him. But that wouldn’t stop him from protecting her any way he could.

  Colm reached for another one of his hard hats. Adjusting the strap, he walked up behind her and gently placed it on her head of soft curls. His fingers brushed up against her hair, memorizing the feel of its texture. One curl looped around his index finger before he reluctantly let it spring away.

  “You don’t have to talk about it, but you do need to wear my hat. For your own protection, and for my sanity. I’m going to do my best to make sure nothing else happens to you.”

  She swirled slowly around, her eyes glittering with unshed tears. But it wasn’t the tears that moved him. It was her look of doubt warring with her need to believe him that nearly caused Colm to reach out for her again.

  “How do I know you’re not just like him?”

  Colm kept his hands at his side, but knew they rested in their natural fisted pose. “The sad truth is, Goldie, I am just like him.”

  FIVE

  “Quiet on the set.” Troy quelled the room with his booming direction. “Wendy, you’re not painting a masterpiece. Colm’s got enough makeup on. Move it.” After Wendy’s grumbling departure, Troy gave a nod to Colm and said, “Action.”

  “Welcome back to day three at The Morning Glory B&B, and boy, do I have some grand news for you.” Colm smiled at the camera. It came easily for him because he liked the person the camera saw. If only everyone’s favorite TV carpenter was more than just a role to play.