by Sandy Vaile
She opened a metal gate, drove through, and then got out to shut it again. Once the station wagon disappeared into the scrub, he let go of the breath he’d been holding and looked around. Not enough room to get his car right off the track. There was, however, a dead end a short distance ahead, so he got as close to the vegetation as possible. Not much cover, but it would have to do.
After keeping watch for an hour, the sun was setting and he needed a leak. This must be Neve’s home, but he couldn’t see anything. He wasn’t going to learn anything about Ms. Sneaky sitting in his car. So he got out and took a leak behind the nearest bush.
Standing on the track, apparently in the middle of nowhere, he felt exposed. Was he really going to trespass? That was the kind of thing creepy stalkers did, not respected businessmen. Then again, he’d strayed a long way off the path of what was expected of him, in his quest to recover Rowan.
There’d been a time when he’d deluded himself that he might even convince Chelsea to come back; his picture of the perfect family needed a mother and father. Now he doubted a perfect family even existed. All he wanted was to hold his child in his arms, to soothe him when he cried, and teach him about free electricity and sound investments. It was his right as a father, and Chelsea had stolen it from him.
Neve’s part in this was still undefined, and the only way to know for sure was to follow her. He stood in front of the gate. No sign of a house through the dense trees. The surrounding area was quiet as he lifted the chain from its peg, stepped through, and resecured it.
Geez, you’re really pushing it this time.
Needing information wasn’t much of an excuse, and it was highly unlikely that Neve had Rowan secreted away. No, this expedition was more likely to be a case of curiosity killed the cat.
The dirt track of a driveway fell away from the peak of the hill and curved to the right. The eucalyptus trees on either side weren’t dense, so he moved into them in an effort to keep out of sight, but the undergrowth was a tangle of fragile kindling that cracked underfoot. Why anyone would build a house so far from the road was a question he wanted answered.
When the track forked, he stood for a good five minutes considering the correct choice. Obviously, the best option was to go back the way he’d come and get the hell out of there. But he’d given up hoping for best options. He moved off to the right.
• • •
“Dinner’s nearly ready, and Jack will be here any minute. Can you set the table?” Neve called.
Tony patted her shoulder and bent over the cast-iron pot to inhale the rich aroma. “That smells fabulous.”
She drew in a big gulp of the flavoursome steam too, and saliva pooled in her mouth. Braised lamb shanks with her secret ingredients: balsamic vinegar and five-spice. The heavy iron lid settled into place with a clunk, and it took the two of them to lift the pot back into the oven.
The deep, melodic clang of cowbells sounded faintly.
Tony stilled with one hand on the cutlery drawer.
Neve tilted her head to the side and listened, then touched her dad’s arm. “Jack?”
“He wouldn’t stray from the track.” Tony’s dark eyes looked ominous.
Cowbells were attached to various traps he had set up around the property. His version of an intruder alarm. They occasionally caught animals.
The bells sounded again, and this time Tony didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the hunting knife strapped under a dining room chair and ran for the door.
“Lock the door,” he called over his shoulder.
Like hell she would.
Tony’s paranoia meant he was always expecting a military invasion. More likely he’d trapped an animal and would put it out of its misery swiftly. It was the improbable scenario she was worried about. If Dave had found her . . .
She slung a quiver of arrows over her shoulder, snatched the bow from its wall mount by the door, and raced after Tony.
It wasn’t dark, but the sun had sunk behind the hill and long shadows blurred the edges of the scrub, making it appear more menacing than she knew it to be. She couldn’t hear Tony’s footsteps ahead, but knew she was going in the right direction when the bell clanged again.
Men were shouting, and through the trees she spotted Jack’s ute.
“Step back, Tony,” Jack yelled.
The men were a hundred metres away, crowding something that hung from a tree.
Tony yelled, “What the fuck are you doing on my property?” There was a thud and a grunt.
Jack moved between Tony and the thing. “I know who he is, now back off!”
Not an animal then. She knew Tony wouldn’t let anyone hurt her, but Neve wasn’t taking any chances with Dave on the loose. With a dozen metres to go, she reached over her shoulder, drew an arrow, and nocked it. The bow was taut and aimed at the writhing person, suspended upside down.
Her foot snapped a twig, and Tony whirled to face her, knife raised and a wild look in his eyes. It took a moment for recognition to halt his defensive, and he lowered the knife.
“Stay back, we’ve got ourselves an intruder,” he commanded.
“Listen to Jack. He knows me!” another male voice croaked.
The back of Neve’s neck prickled at the familiarity of the sound. She sidestepped Tony and gasped. Micah’s feet were ensnared in a noose, his long body dangling above the ground. There was something very wrong about seeing this proud man incapacitated. The whites of his eyes were bright in the fading light, and their gazes met.
Confident there was no danger, she relaxed the bowstring and dropped the arrow back into the quiver.
Tony’s fist clenched and his arm tensed for another punch.
“Stop that!” Instinctively she positioned herself between Tony and Micah.
“This bastard is going to tell me what the hell he’s doing sneaking around my property.”
“Tony, stand down. He’s not a threat,” Neve yelled.
He frowned. “You know him?”
“Stand down.” Neve snatched the blade from Tony’s hand. “Geez, he’s just a man, not the Vietcong! Give me a hand, will you, Jack?”
“Who the hell are you people?” Micah said.
She’d never intended for him to see the way she lived, but the time for secrecy was gone. Like her day needed more damage control.
• • •
Jack threaded his hands under Micah’s arms, and Neve raised the knife.
Oh shit! Micah followed the rise of her arm and grimaced as the serration on the knife’s blade glinted. She brought it down with one strong blow, and he closed his eyes.
A solid blow knocked the air from his lungs as he hit the ground. Jack’s hold had cushioned him from the full force of the landing, but still every rib and muscle ached. The sweet tang of blood coated his tongue.
A thick rope lay slack at the base of the tree. There was nothing but concern on Neve’s face. Of course, she’d cut him free. For a moment there, he’d thought . . .
His gaze flashed between the faces of his captors, ending with the crazy Italian they’d called Tony. So this was Neve’s partner. The guy was thin and scruffy and much older than he’d expected, but boy could he hit.
Tony stepped forward, and Micah rolled out of Jack’s grasp and clambered to his feet. A sudden wave of vertigo made him list to one side, and he dropped to his knees.
“It’s all right, Micah. No one is going to hurt you anymore.” Neve crouched beside him.
“That guy’s a lunatic!”
“That guy is my father.”
If it had been physically possible for a jaw to drop to the ground, Micah was sure his would have. Now he could see the family resemblance in the eyes and nose. That explained why she felt compelled to look after him, but it still didn’t make sense. Neve seemed like a strong, independent woman. Why would she put up with such a violent arse?
One of her slender fingers traced his lip and came away bloody.
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” she said as she stood and
flung the hunting knife towards a tree.
Micah followed its trajectory to where it quivered in the bark. Bloody hell, he was in way over his head with this lot of weekend warriors, vigilantes, or whatever the hell they were.
She offered him a hand, but he hesitated. Then Jack offered a hand too. Together they pulled him to his feet, and he shrugged off their offers to help him reach the nearby ute.
“I’ll take him to the house,” Jack said. “You’d better make sure Tony’s okay.”
Micah grunted. “Tony? I’m the one he just used as a punching bag.”
Jack crossed his arms. “If I were you, I’d keep my mouth shut until asked a question.”
Micah’s gaze didn’t leave Neve as she followed the crazy Italian into the bush. He wanted to tell her not to go, but his body felt rubbery, his mind hazy. Maybe he should go after her for protection. Then again, he’d just seen what she could do with a weapon. Perhaps she’d be okay after all.
After another minute of trying to spot her between the dark trees and a sigh from Jack, Micah climbed into the passenger seat. Jack started the engine, and they bumped along the track.
Within a minute, they stopped in front of a shanty and Jack got out of the car.
“What is this place?” Micah croaked.
“This is Neve and Tony’s house. We’re going to sit and have a nice, civilised chat about what you’re doing here.”
Micah shook his head.
“Don’t worry, Tony won’t hit you again . . .unless he doesn’t like your answers.”
Jack opened the passenger door, giving Micah no choice. When Micah stepped down from the ute, the ground rolled and he held tightly to the door handle. Hanging upside down was overrated. Once he had control of the light-headedness, he shuffled forwards. Inside the house, he eased onto the couch.
“I suggest you think real hard about how you’re going to explain yourself.” Jack leant against the wall and stilled.
The way he surveyed his surroundings while standing watch gave the appearance of being relaxed, but his focus reminded Micah very much of the eagles he’d seen at the Silverton Wind Farm site. Ready to strike at a moment’s notice.
Micah didn’t have the energy to leave even if he wanted to. Tony had knocked the shit out of him; no wonder the locals called him Looney Tunes. He couldn’t believe Neve lived with someone so obviously unstable. And what was he supposed to tell the bastard? It wasn’t like he had a good reason for being on the property. If they called the cops, he’d be locked up for sure and wouldn’t have a hope of meeting Chelsea’s deadline.
Then again, Tony seemed more like the kind of guy to beat someone to death rather than involve the authorities.
Chapter 14
Micah scanned the small living room. It wasn’t a lot bigger than the caravan he’d lived in as a teenager. Three of the walls looked to be mud brick, with the back of the room solid rock, slick with moisture. Most likely the hillside, seeing as tufts of grass had taken root in crevices. Hell, this was more like a bunker than a house. Surely Neve didn’t actually live here. A thin reed mat was tossed over the cement floor, and there was a line of shoes by the door, under weapons that hung on hooks. Raw wooden beams supported the low ceiling, and the faint smell of stale smoke emanated from the worn fabric of the couch.
The rich aroma of a mouth-watering stew drew his attention to a side room. Through a doorless opening, there was a small dining table and bunches of herbs were strung above the window.
Someone’s boots stomped outside, and he held his breath. Jack tensed.
Neve entered first, her eyes wary. She touched Jack’s arm. “Dad’s okay.”
Jack visibly relaxed. Bloody hell, they were all worried about Loony Tunes.
Tony loomed in the doorway, a murderous glare locked on Micah.
“How about you put the kettle on, Tony?” Neve suggested. “Let me see to Micah’s wounds before we talk.”
“Good idea,” Jack added.
Tony shut the front door. “I’m not leaving you alone with him.”
“I’m not going to hurt her,” Micah growled.
Neve sighed. “Nobody’s going to hurt me. Make the tea, Tony.”
She disappeared into another room, but Micah kept his gaze on Tony, and the old man reflected mistrust right back at him.
He saw movement from the corner of his eye, but it was still a shock when something warm touched his forehead, and he grabbed it. A warm flannel dangled from a delicate hand, and his gaze travelled up to Neve’s raised eyebrows. He immediately let go, but Tony was already in his face, his bony fingers like a vice around Micah’s throat, lip curled, teeth clenched. Micah tried to knock the resolute hands away.
Neve barely moved, but the side of her hand connected with Tony’s windpipe. There was a grunt, and he stumbled back, gasping. Micah rubbed his throat too.
“Keep your hands off him, Tony, or we’re going to have a serious problem,” Neve said.
A peculiar emotion flashed across her father’s face, very close to betrayal. The old man took a couple of steps back, and Micah let out a tense breath.
Neve sat on the couch again with a tube of cream on her lap and held up the damp flannel. “I need to wipe your face, okay?”
He nodded. As she wiped the rough cloth across his skin, her face was so close he felt himself falling into her dark irises, down the straight line of her nose, and over the gentle curve of her lips. Her hair was different too. Tight spirals frizzed around her face, and it made her look carefree.
Not once did she meet his probing gaze, but when she leant forward to dab the cream on his top lip, she held her breath. Despite the dangerous fire in Tony’s glare, Micah was surprisingly calm, and he had no doubt it was due to the composure that radiated from Neve. No wonder she was so good with children.
“Okay.” She straightened. “Let’s have that cup of tea, shall we?” She hustled Tony and Jack into the kitchen.
Micah crossed his arms and stayed on the couch. He wasn’t keen on having the shit beaten out of him again, but he still didn’t have any good answers for their questions.
“You too,” Neve called over her shoulder.
He made his way into the tiny kitchen on dragging feet. Neve pointed to the dining table, where Tony and Jack sat on the far side. Micah pulled a chair a metre from it—well out of Tony’s reach—and sat down. Tony looked menacing, but Micah glared right back. His eyes stung from staring by the time Neve placed four steaming mugs and a carton of milk on the table, breaking the spell.
She took the last seat. “So, what are you doing here, Micah?”
There was a guarded look in her eyes, and he felt guilty for putting it there. He sipped the tea, stalling. “I wanted to know where you lived. I’m sorry. I should have stopped at the gate.”
“You think?” Tony’s chair hit the cement floor with a crack. Jack was quick to grab his arm.
“Sit down, Tony,” Neve snapped.
“I don’t know why you’re treating this bastard with kid gloves,” Tony growled. “He just admitted to stalking you.”
“This is Micah, the guy I was telling you about.”
“Rich bastard. More reason to teach him a lesson.”
“What is it with you nuts and money?” Micah slapped his hand flat on the table and leant forward. A challenge.
Jack intervened. “That’s not important. What we want to know is why you were snooping around after our girl. For God’s sake, sit down, Tony!”
Tony righted his chair and sat back down.
Neve turned her attention to Micah again. “Why did you feel compelled to know where I live?”
He shrugged.
“You don’t think I have Rowan, do you?” She sounded appalled.
He lowered his gaze.
“I can’t believe you think I’m in cahoots with Chelsea and Dave, after . . .”
Micah sagged against the chair. “I— I don’t know what I was thinking. Bloody hell, I guess I wasn’t thinking at all.�
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“That’s a crap explanation,” Tony grumbled.
“Micah has been under a lot of stress.” Neve placed a hand over Micah’s on the table and looked him in the eye. “Although that doesn’t give you the right to waltz in here uninvited, I promise that I don’t know where Rowan is, but I’m going to help you find him.”
He nodded. It was obvious now that this wasn’t the kind of place Chelsea would hide out. Neve really was helping him. The back of his eyes stung at the idea of her generosity, and he blinked hard. Still, he didn’t understand why, and that made him nervous.
Glancing at Tony was a mistake. His murderous glare was locked on Neve and Micah’s joined hands, so Micah extracted his and wrapped it around his tea mug.
“What were you going to do once you found Neve?” Jack asked.
Eyes down, Micah told the truth. “I just wanted to see her.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tony’s hands clench and figured he’d be getting round two of his beating any minute now.
“Let me show this guy the door,” Tony said.
Neve stood and placed a hand on her father’s shoulder. “Nobody’s going anywhere just yet. Have you eaten today, Micah?”
His stomach grumbled as he thought back. “A croissant and coffee at the general store this morning.”
“Well, dinner’s ready. You may as well stay and we can all get to know one another a little better. Tony, you can mash the potatoes.”
Tony huffed and went to the stove to help Neve lift a cast-iron pot. A swirling cloud of meat-moistened steam whooshed out when she lifted the lid.
“That’s a wood oven.” Micah stated the obvious, and everyone ignored him.
“That smells fabulous.” Jack rubbed his belly. “Hey, you won’t believe what was on the news this morning. There have been another two cars stolen this side of the hill.”
“What’s so unusual about that?” Micah asked.
Neve turned from the stove. “That makes half a dozen in the past month, and not one has turned up again. What does that mean?”
“Nothing good,” said Jack. “If it was kids taking them for a joyride, I’d expect the cops to find them burnt out. This is different. Organised maybe.”
