Shit. Fuck. She wished she’d been able to ask Murray about exactly who his guests were, but the phone connection had cut out.
Stupid storm.
She just hoped like hell there wasn’t going to be any thunder. She shuddered. Thunderstorms were her nemesis.
“Hello?” she called out nervously.
Surely, Murray wouldn’t have sent her down to pick up a psycho about to go on a murderous rampage.
Yes, Caley. That’s exactly who Murray sent you down to rescue. A mass murderer intent on making you their next victim. Murray is in on it. It’s a whole conspiracy. They deliberately crashed their expensive-looking vehicle in order to lure you out of your home and they’re going to tie you up in the basement and chop you into tiny pieces…
“Hello? Hello, ma’am? Are you all right?”
“Someone knows where I am!” she yelled, taking a step back, her arms windmilling as she tried to catch her balance. “If I go missing, they’ll call the cops.”
Two hands grabbed her upper arms, saving her from falling onto her ass in the mud. A handsome face frowned down at her.
“Ma’am? Are you all right?”
No. She was not. Her breath heaved in and out of her lungs.
“You’re not a serial killer, are you?” she asked.
“No.”
“Rapist?”
His eyes widened. “Definitely not.”
“Have you ever had the urge to chop someone into pieces?”
“Well, we had to dissect corpses in medical school. Does that count?”
“Medical school?”
“Um, yes. I’m Doctor Archer Miller. I’m a friend of Murray Wakely’s. He lives a few miles from here.”
“Yes, I know. I’m his neighbor. He sent me here to get you. Is there someone else with you?”
Or had he chopped them into little pieces?
Calm, Caley. Overactive imagination strikes again.
“Yes. He’s hurt his head. I’ll go get him. Umm, he’s not a murderer, rapist or torturer. Just FYI.”
“Good to know,” she said, feeling stupid. What kind of person asked someone they’d just met those questions? Well, actually, they were the sort of questions you probably wanted to know the answers to upfront.
No use asking the questions once you were trussed up in the basement of Murray’s cabin, having your fingernails plucked off as souvenirs.
“I’ll help him over here,” Archer told her. “Then I’ll move our bags to the back of your truck? Are you able to take us to Murray’s place?”
“Yep. Sure. I can do that.” She hadn’t actually thought about where she would be taking them. But Murray’s was definitely a better idea than taking them into town.
Please don’t let there be any thunder.
Another man walked towards her. He was holding something against his head. Archer turned towards him then back to her.
“Why don’t you get in your truck, ma’am? It’s pouring down and freezing, and you don’t have a jacket on.”
Was that a note of censure in his voice? She shrugged it off. What did he care if she didn’t have a jacket on? He didn’t know her.
But yeah, getting in the truck wasn’t a bad idea. She spun, at the last minute remembering how muddy it was. Thankfully, this time, she managed to keep her balance.
Graceful as always, Caley Jane.
She climbed into her truck and turned the heater on full, aware now of how badly she was shivering. Remembering a jacket would have been smart. Caley knew she was smart. She just didn’t have a lot of common sense sometimes.
If Dave had still been alive, he wouldn’t have let her go out in the rain without a coat. But then, if he was still here, he’d have come out to get these guys himself.
The familiar pang of sadness hit her. Although it was growing less painful as time went on. Which made her feel guilty. It should hurt just as badly as it did when he was taken from her, right?
It felt wrong that it didn’t. Like she wasn’t respecting his memory. Like she was starting to love him less when that just wasn’t true. She still loved him. It was just that she was so damn lonely.
The door opened and another large man swung himself into the passenger seat. What? Did they grow them huge wherever these two came from? This guy seemed a bit broader across the shoulders. Although it was hard to tell unless she saw him up against the first man. Archer. Cool name. She filed it away to use in a story.
He shut the door. He wore a slicker with the collar turned up. No doubt that kept him nice and dry. She needed to invest in one of those. She stared at him, trying to make out his features. All she could really see was that he seemed to have a short beard.
Hmm. She was a sucker for a beard. A good mountain man should have a beard. And he certainly looked like a mountain man. As though he could wrestle a grizzly bear single-handed then start a fire from scratch, skin a fish and build a shelter without breaking a sweat.
He slumped back in his seat and turned to look at her.
“Looked your fill, girl?”
She blinked at the rude comment. “Excuse me?”
“You’re gawking.”
Her temper stirred. All right, maybe she had been staring. But he was a stranger in her vehicle. Plus, she didn’t meet many new people anymore. Certainly not men who were quite so, umm, masculine.
Good word usage there, Caley. You must be a writer.
“You’re in my truck. I came out to rescue you in a storm.”
“And that gives you the right to stare at me?”
“Yes.”
There was a moment of silence. “Fair enough.”
She’d opened her mouth to argue some more when she realized he was agreeing with her. That was unexpected. Archer walked past with the bags and placed them in the truck.
She turned back to the strange guy as he pulled a bit of cloth away from his head, feeling ill at the sight of blood on it.
“You’re bleeding.”
“Yep,” he agreed.
“Do you need a doctor?”
The back-passenger door opened, and Archer climbed in.
“I don’t need a doctor,” the cranky one grumbled.
“But you’re bleeding. It looks bad. It might need stitches.”
“It doesn’t need stitches.”
“How do you know? You can’t see it. We should take you to the doctor.” It was going to be a painful drive into town, but better that than have this guy die on her. All right, it wasn’t bleeding that much. But what if he had a concussion?
“I’m a doctor.”
“You’re a doctor?” she asked skeptically.
“Yeah. Why’s that such a surprise? I don’t look like a doctor?”
Not really but that wasn’t it…
“Are you a good doctor?”
He turned more fully towards her.
“What? Yes,” he said with clear irritation in his voice.
“No need to get grumpy, just seems to me that if you were a decent doctor, you’d want to look at the wound before deciding if you need stitches. But then you did hit your head.” She turned to look back at Archer. “Did he lose consciousness?”
“Ahh, no, I don’t think he lost consciousness.”
“Oh good. ‘Cause if he did, you’d need to wake him in the night to make sure he’s okay.”
“I’m a doctor,” Dr. Cranky said loudly. “I know all of that.”
“And remember, I’m a doctor too,” Archer claimed. “Don’t worry, he’s in good hands.”
The other guy snorted, as though disagreeing. She leaned towards the guy in the front, pointing back towards Archer. “What? He’s not very good?”
“He’s a psychiatrist.”
She straightened. “Ahh. Say no more.”
“Hey!” Archer complained from the back.
“So the two of you are doctors? Is that how you met?”
“We’re brothers,” Archer explained.
“Oh.”
“Although so
metimes I feel more like his keeper,” Archer muttered.
“Can we get moving?” Dr. Cranky asked.
“Sure. No need to get all irritable.” She turned off the hazard lights and put her truck in drive. The gears crunched. She really needed that service.
“Are you a good driver?” Dr. Cranky asked.
“Eh, I’m passable,” she replied. She suddenly realized she had the urge to smile. When was the last time that happened? Mind you, when was the last time she’d said more than hello to someone? Christ, maybe she should think about getting out more. Or at least buying a pet. Someone to talk to.
“Thank you for coming to get us, ma’am,” Archer said, leaning forward as she took off towards Murray’s place at a slow pace. She wondered when the last time her brakes had been tested.
“Oh. That’s okay. You’re lucky Murray got hold of me. There’s no one else up here this time of year and I don’t always have my cell charged.”
“You don’t have your cell charged?” Dr. Cranky asked.
“Umm, no,” she said slowly, wondering why he sounded so irritated.
“Why did you come? Where’s your man?” Dr. Cranky queried.
Archer groaned. “Jesus, Isaac, have you got any manners?”
Isaac? That was far too nice a name for this guy.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I don’t have a man.”
Isaac, aka Dr. Cranky, let out a low sound. “So you live alone, and you don’t keep your phone charged? Is that smart?”
“I don’t know. You’re a doctor and you don’t think a deep cut on your head should be stitched, is that smart?”
Archer let out a small bark of laughter. But Isaac seemed like he was in the mood to scold her.
“Where’s your jacket?”
She glanced briefly down at her oversized man’s shirt which was soaked through. Just as well it was dark, or she thought she might be showing off a bit more of her body than she would have liked. Her hair, which was pulled back in a low ponytail was dripping down her back and even her underwear was wet. Yuck.
She was shivering, the heater in the old truck just not cutting it.
“Umm, ma’am, could you please keep your eyes on the road,” Archer said in a strangled voice.
Oh right. She was driving.
She turned her attention back to the road. Her windshield wipers were at full speed but still not doing much. Another thing to have checked.
“I forgot it. And it’s Caley.”
“You know I’m Archer. This is Isaac.”
“Call me Doc,” Isaac said.
“Is that a bit confusing when you’re both doctors?”
“We’re not together that much. Isaac is my father’s name,” he explained. “We don’t get along.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
He just shrugged, but she could tell there was a lot of emotion behind his desire not to share his father’s name.
“You came out into a storm without a jacket. And in a truck that looks like it should have been crushed a long time ago. Did you even bring your cell with you?”
“He always like this or is it the hit to the head?” she asked Archer.
“I wish I could say it was the hit to his head,” Archer replied dryly.
She sighed and tried to crank the heater up further. Damn it.
“Here, take my jacket.” Doc reached for the zipper at the top of his jacket.
“No. I’m fine.”
“You’re shivering. You’re going to get sick and die.”
“Is that your professional opinion?”
Doc just grunted.
“I’ll be fine. By the time I get your jacket on, we’ll be there.”
By now, he had his jacket off and was trying to hand it to her. “Take it.”
“I can’t. I’m driving. I don’t want to run off the road.”
“What road?” he replied.
“You’re gonna need it when you get out.”
“Take the damn jacket, Caley,” he growled.
Ooh, why did her name have to sound so sexy coming from his lips? That wasn’t fair.
“I don’t need the jacket. I’m f-fine.”
Except her teeth were chattering so badly, she could barely finish that sentence.
“Please take the jacket,” Archer urged. “I’d offer mine but then he’ll just get grumpy.”
“Grumpier than he is now?”
“Yep.”
“How is that even possible?” she muttered as she turned the truck around the corner. “I can’t take it right now. I need both hands on the wheel.”
This truck didn’t have power steering and the suspension was so bad she needed both hands to control the wheel. Which is why she didn’t drive much. She usually ended up with sore shoulders and a crick in her back when she got out.
“This heap of junk shouldn’t even be on the road,” Doc muttered.
“Hey!” she protested.
“Jesus, Isaac,” Archer muttered. “She’s doing us a favor. At least try to be polite.”
“It’s just the truth. Foolish thing coming out in the dark and a storm to pick up two strangers without a jacket or a cell phone and in a truck that looks like Fred Flintstone used to use his feet to power it.”
“Ooh the Flintstones. I loved that as a kid,” she said as they turned another corner.
Oh. Crap.
She slowed the vehicle to a stop.
“Fuck,” Doc muttered beside her, staring out the window.
“I take it we were supposed to go through that creek,” Archer leaned forward between their seats. Staring out at the very flooded creek.
“Yep,” she said. “I should’ve guessed it might be flooded. Your truck might have managed it. Mine definitely won’t.” Not that they probably would’ve wanted to drive their fancy truck through that.
“Murray didn’t warn us about this,” Archer muttered. “Then again, he probably didn’t think we would be coming out this late.”
Crap. Damn it. What now? She tapped her fingers against her thigh nervously. She really didn’t want to drive into town. She was tired. Her shoulders ached from controlling the truck on the rough road and it was late.
But what choice did she have?
“There another way round?” Doc asked.
“Yeah. But it’s gonna take you a few hours and you have to go back through town to take it,” she told them. “You’re better off staying the night there and setting out for the cabin tomorrow.”
“Better off just going home,” Doc grumbled. “Now put the jacket on.”
She sighed but she grabbed the jacket and slid it on. It was huge on her and she had to push the sleeves back off her hands. It immediately started to warm her chilled skin, though. And the scent of pine and sandalwood drifted around her.
“Why isn’t your damn seatbelt on, girl?” Doc demanded.
“Oh, it doesn’t work.”
“It doesn’t…it doesn’t work?” Archer spluttered from the back while Doc mumbled something under his breath. “That’s not even legal.”
“Well, can’t remember the last time I ever saw a cop up here. Old Arnie doesn’t bother himself with coming up these parts just for me.”
“She’s killing me, Archer,” Doc said bizarrely. “Make her stop.”
“Stop what?” she asked in confusion.
“Girl, you need a keeper,” Doc told her.
“I can take care of myself just fine.” But his words sent a pang of longing through her. Okay, she could be slightly forgetful. But she’d survived this far on her own. Just.
She’d once had someone who had watched out for her. And she remembered how nice it felt to have someone there. Someone to share the load.
“How long to get back to town?” Archer asked.
“Dunno. In this weather, maybe about an hour and a half.”
“Shit.” Doc turned to Archer. “Not having her do a three-hour trip in this weather in a truck that is on its last legs and doesn’t ha
ve a working seatbelt. Plus she’s gonna get pneumonia sitting in those wet clothes.”
“Agreed,” Archer said. “Too dangerous.”
“Didn’t your momma teach you two that it’s rude to talk about someone like they’re not here?” she grumbled.
Archer turned to her, both of them were now staring at her. Which was a little intense. “Caley, I don’t suppose we could impose on you for the night?”
“You…you want to stay the night? With me?”
3
If there was any other choice, he wouldn’t let her drive.
However, Doc knew he shouldn’t be driving right now. Not with the gash in his head. Which likely did need stitches, but now that he’d proclaimed that it didn’t, he wasn’t going to back down without a fight.
Plus, he didn’t know where they were headed, and conditions out here were treacherous enough. But he didn’t like that she was driving around in this heap of junk without a seatbelt.
And don’t get him started on her lack of jacket and phone. Damn fool woman. What the hell was Murray doing sending out a little bit like her to pick up two strange men? It had been years since Murray had seen Archer. They could have changed in that time. Could be the type of men to take advantage of a woman alone.
Luckily, they weren’t.
But still, it made him grumpy thinking about all the ways that Caley could be hurt. Injured. Taken advantage of.
What would cause a young woman to live out here all alone?
Something bad, he was guessing.
Maybe he should insist that Archer drive. But he’d probably just crash again. Doc sighed. He knew that wasn’t fair. Knew it wasn’t his fault.
But still, he was in a mood.
When aren’t you in a mood?
“You want to stay the night at my cabin? With me?”
“Unless you have other suggestions,” Archer said gently. That was his ‘I’m so reasonable, everyone should listen to me because I know best’ voice.
“I, umm, well, I don’t mind taking you both into town,” she said.
“You’re not taking us into town,” he barked. He had a roaring headache. It was cold. He was tired. He wanted to lie down. Most of all, he wanted for Caley not to be driving around in these conditions, shivering her ass off. “We’re going home with you.”
Heal Me, Daddy Page 2
