The Marshalls Boxed Set (Texas Heroes: The Marshalls Books 1-3)

by Jean Brashear

  “How many rounds?”

  “Is that like bullets?”

  “Yes.” She thought she heard a smile in his voice.

  “I can’t tell.”

  “Is it full to the top?”

  “No, but it’s close.”

  “Okay. We can count them later. Jam it back in, okay?”

  “Will it fire?”

  “Not with the safety on—but thanks for your caution, especially since it’s pointed in my direction.”

  “Oh!” Quickly she lowered it. “Sorry.”

  “That’s okay. You have a lot on your mind.”

  She quivered, waiting for his patience to evaporate. Richard would have exploded by now.

  “Okay if I get in the car now?”

  She realized it had started raining again. “I guess—”

  “You sure?” Still patient. Still cheerful.

  She glanced up to see his expression.

  And blinked.

  He was, hands down, the most handsome man she’d ever seen. Thick, rich dark brown hair, falling over his forehead. Green eyes sparkling with mischief and good humor, fringed with thick dark lashes. A smile that would make a woman’s heart melt into a puddle at his feet.

  She shivered and turned away, fumbling with her purse. She didn’t really want to carry this weapon, but—

  “You’re soaking wet. You can’t stay in those clothes,” he proclaimed. “You don’t have anything else to wear?”

  She heard him approach. Shook her head but didn’t meet his gaze.

  “Would you wear something of mine?”

  She declined again. Shivered again.

  “I won’t watch. I’ll walk away while you change.” He was sounding more exasperated by the moment. “Listen, I know my clothes will be too big, but it’s better than what you have and I swear to God I won’t look.”

  “I’ll—I’ll be o-okay,” she insisted.

  “Bull hockey. Get in the car. Your teeth are chattering.”

  When she hesitated, he exhaled sharply. “Look, I don’t know what it takes to convince you that I’m not going to hurt you, but don’t let your fear make you foolish. It’s late at night, it’s raining, and you’re cold.”

  She didn’t want to owe him anything, but he was right. “Thank you. I will borrow a shirt, if you don’t mind.”

  “That’s more like it.” His smile gleamed, a beacon of hope in a dark, terrifying world. “Wait right here.” He squeezed her shoulder before she could warn him off.

  No. Not now. She didn’t like to be touched. Touching hurt.

  Then she realized his didn’t. She didn’t feel his emotions, either.

  Wondering why, she looked his direction, and their gazes met fully for the first time.

  The air around him shimmered, almost like a double exposure photo. She’d never experienced anything like it.

  And time…stood still.

  Josh Marshall blinked. He almost felt like he’d gone blind and deaf for a second there.

  Oh, come on. Get real.

  But something weird had definitely happened. The woman had gone sheet-white. Dropped his hand and raced for the other side of the car from him, all but diving into the passenger seat.

  Hey, she’d touched him, he wanted to remind her. He had been giving her wide berth, hoping somehow to put her at ease.

  And he was just about out of ideas about how to make her feel safe. The only thing left to try was more distance, so he headed for the trunk to retrieve dry clothes for her.

  She was thin, painfully so. A puff of air would send her to her knees, she was so slight and delicate.

  But she’d managed to hang onto that gun he still really would prefer to take care of. And she’d talked him out of calling the cops.

  What was up with that? With her?

  And why did he care?

  She could be pretty, he thought, not that it mattered. Long sable hair was a waterfall halfway down her back. Her features were smooth and even, dark slender wings for brows, finely-formed nose, generous lips. Melted chocolate eyes, with all the sadness in the world shadowing them. She made him want to cuddle her. To slay dragons.

  Getting a little fanciful, dude. She had problems, for sure—sizable ones, it seemed. But she was skittish beyond belief, and he was on a badly-needed vacation. He had to be back for filming soon, and anyway, he was no miracle worker. No social worker, either. He’d take her to the next town—shoot, he’d even give her money to get to…wherever. Then he’d be on his way.

  Reaching into his bag, he drew out a pair of sweats. She’d swim in them, but at least she’d be warm. As a quick afterthought, he grabbed an extra belt and returned to the front.

  Her forehead was pressed to the dash, and she was trembling. He cleared his throat, and she straightened immediately.

  He pretended he hadn’t seen. “Here—these will be huge, but they’ll be warm and comfortable,” he said, thrusting the clothes onto the seat. “Maybe you can keep the pants on by using my belt.”

  “I don’t—I’ll just—” Her voice was barely a whisper. “I’ll keep my jeans on.”

  “Don’t be silly,” he snapped. “I’m not going to look. I’ll stand at the back of the car until you tell me it’s all right. Keep the door closed and no light will expose you. As tiny as you are, you’ve got plenty of room to move around. I am not your problem.”

  He stalked off, fuming. Never in his life had a woman been afraid of him. She was a head case.

  He made himself take a deep breath. Maybe she was, but he reminded himself that she’d just been attacked by two drunken thugs. She seemed to be all alone in the world and scared half to death. She deserved his compassion, not this unaccustomed anger.

  What was up with that?

  Josh sighed. He was just…tired. Too many things were rubbing him wrong lately. He needed a break, that’s all, and he’d been counting on time with his family to just…be.

  But regardless, no way was he going to leave a woman stranded. He’d give her a chance to settle—who wouldn’t need that after nearly being attacked on a dark highway? Once she’d had some time to get used to him, he’d find out what her plans were and fix whatever needed fixing before he moved on. His brother and sister-in-law didn’t know exactly when to expect him, anyway. A little detour wouldn’t hurt anything.

  He heard the car door open and turned around. She held the wet clothes away from her, wringing them out. He’d been right—she was practically drowning in his clothes. She looked like a child playing a weird sort of dress-up, legs and sleeves rolled up several times, the belt cinched tight around an impossibly small waist to keep the pants from falling down.

  “Here, let me help you.” He reached for the clothes.

  Immediately she sidestepped.

  What the hell?

  Abruptly he realized where he’d seen erratic behavior like this before—she made him think of his sister-in-law Lorie after she’d been brutally attacked by a stalker. She’d been easily startled. Terrified of anyone’s touch but Quinn’s, and even Quinn had been forced to exercise enormous patience to break through to her.

  The realization helped. He would keep reminding himself to give this woman space.

  Just then he recalled something else Quinn had done to help Lorie—he’d taken every opportunity to give her a sense of control after she’d been at the mercy of that crazed fan.

  Whatever had happened to her before tonight, this woman had certainly been at the mercy of those two creeps. Maybe taking a similar tack would help her feel safer.

  “Here,” he gestured toward the trunk but remaining where he was. “If you want, you can spread them in the trunk for now, and we can keep an eye for a laundromat so we can dry them. Sound okay?”

  “I don’t want to get any of those toys wet.”

  He grinned. “Those toys are going to have to survive a four-year-old and a pair of toddler hellions. If they can’t survive wet clothes, I might as well toss them out now.”

  �
��Twins?”

  “Yeah. My brother and his wife have a ten-year-old son, a four-year-old daughter, and two-year-old twin boys.”

  “You’re close?”

  “They’re great kids. I love being their uncle.” He shut the trunk lid and returned to the front.

  She settled in the passenger seat while he stuck the keys in the ignition and started the motor. “I should apologize. I don’t mean to be difficult,” she said stiffly. “You’ve been very kind.”

  “You’ve had a rough evening.”

  “So have you. Are you sure you’re all right after that fight?”

  “No big.” He shrugged, then winced. His ribs had taken a shot or two. “How about you? Sure your head is okay?”

  She gave the smallest of nods but said nothing.

  So what now? “Um…where can I take you?”

  She was quiet so long he finally looked over to see what was holding her up. In the reflection of an oncoming headlight, he saw tears spill over her lashes.

  “Hey…” he soothed, reaching out slowly. “What’s—”

  He never got to finish his question. From behind them, the headlights turned into flashing red and blue lights. Glancing back, he saw a highway patrolman pulling up behind them. He looked over at her quickly and saw her knuckles gripping her purse for dear life.

  Then the officer was beside them, gesturing for him to roll down the window.

  Josh took one more glance at her, wondering why it was she was so afraid of the authorities. He could not imagine her as a criminal.

  A knock on the glass. “Sorry. I have no choice,” he said to her.

  She only sat frozen.

  He rolled down the window.

  “Evening,” the officer said. “You folks need help?”

  “No, we’re just…talking.”

  The officer ducked to look more closely at her. “Ma’am, everything all right?”

  She didn’t move for what felt like centuries.

  Great. He looked like he’d been in a fight, and she was clearly terrified. Just what his career needed, for him to get hauled off to jail.

  And he didn’t even know her name. “Honey?” he prompted.

  She shook her shoulders as if waking from a trance. “I’m fine.”

  Yeah, he’s gonna buy that, given that your eyes are all but rolling in fear.

  “Sir, I think you’d better step out of the vehicle.” A sharp glance at the cop revealed his clear disbelief.

  Josh resisted a sigh. This is what happened when you play Samaritan. Perfect. Abso-freaking-lutely-perfect. “Should I get my license out first?”

  “Just get out of the vehicle, sir.”

  Don’t tell the guy what his job is, dumbass. Just because you’ve played a cop doesn’t mean you know jack.

  “I know this looks bad, but I can explain…”

  “Out, sir. And keep your hands where I can see them.”

  And oh glory hallelujah, there was a gun in the car and he had no permit for it. Better and better.

  He emerged slowly, every movement careful.

  The patrolman glanced over at her. “Will you be all right there for a minute, ma’am?”

  “Yes.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

  The officer cast a suspicious glance at him. “Step to the back of the car a minute, sir.” He shone his flashlight on Josh. “You been in a fight, Mr….?”

  “Marshall. Josh Marshall. And yes, but I was defending her, not hurting her.”

  “Marshall?” The officer blinked. Squinted.

  For the first time in a long time, Josh prayed to be recognized. I play good guys. I am a good guy.

  “I’d like to see some ID, please. One hand only and slowly.”

  Yes! Josh breathed a little easier as he did as instructed. He flipped open his wallet in one hand and showed the license in the plastic window.

  The patrolman glanced down, blinked. “Holy shit! You really are Josh Marshall.”

  “Yes, sir, I am.”

  “So what’s going on here? Tell me your version.”

  His version. He wasn’t a liar, damn it. But Quinn had been a cop for a long time, and Josh knew the job bred cynicism to the bone. “Should I keep my hands up?”

  The cop frowned. “You can lower them, but place them on the trunk lid where I can see them.”

  At least he wasn’t telling Josh to spread ’em. Someday he and Quinn would laugh over this, right?

  “My brother is a former Houston detective. I understand that you have to be careful. I swear I haven’t done anything wrong except kick the shit out of two guys who had her cornered.”

  “Who is she?”

  Josh shook his head. “I have no idea. It all just happened, and we haven’t gotten to introductions yet. She was wet and shivering and scared. No telling what would have happened if I hadn’t come along.”

  “Where are they?”

  “They took off.”

  “Get a license number?”

  “Nope, sorry. Wish I had. I’d like to see them spend some quality time in a cell, the stupid drunk bastards.”

  The cop shook his head. “Too many like them out there.” He glanced back at the car. “I need to talk to her, too. You understand.”

  “Of course.”

  As the cop went around to her door, he mentally apologized to the woman even as a part of him hoped the cop would take her off his hands.

  The cop returned, not happy but resigned. “She says she’s fine. She says it was all a misunderstanding with those guys. She also doesn’t want medical attention. You sure you want to get caught up in this? I can take her in.”

  “On what charges?”

  “Vagrancy. Maybe prostitution. That’s the most likely explanation, you know—wouldn’t be the first time a woman and her john were at odds over services rendered.”

  Josh started to leap to her defense, but what did he actually know about her situation? He wasn’t a cop, and that might be exactly the explanation.

  But he didn’t think so. Her reactions, from apologizing to him to hanging onto the pistol like a security blanket, spoke of abject fear. Of something much more serious than a misunderstanding.

  The patrolman continued. “You really can’t make assumptions. For all you know, she’s got an accomplice waiting down the road to roll you. All this could be an act.”

  Doubts kept rearing their heads. Was he being naive?

  You’re big, she’d said, literally trembling in terror.

  I’m sorry.

  Just let me go. Please.

  I don’t want your pity.

  You could overpower me.

  “It could be an act, but she could also simply be stranded. Which isn’t a crime.”

  “No. But I could still insist that she go with me if you need to get on down the road.”

  He probably should say yes, but it would be like sending a puppy to the pound. She was scared enough without him abandoning her, however much easier it would be to be done with her now.

  But he just couldn’t. “Nah. I’ll stop in the next town, get her some food and see what I can figure out.”

  “So you don’t only play heroes on the screen.”

  Josh flushed. “Not a hero, just the way I was raised.”

  “It’s nice to see. So many of the Hollywood crowd seem to be all messed up. Reassuring to find one who’s normal.” Then the cop’s smile flared. “The wife is going to go crazy that I met you in person.” He hesitated. “I don’t suppose you—” He stopped, flustered, and Josh realized he was pretty young.

  “Sure. I’d be glad to give both of you an autograph. Got any kids?”

  “Naw, but we’re expecting our first in January.”

  “Hey, that’s great! Congratulations. So what would you like me to sign?”

  “I, uh—” the officer frowned and patted his pockets. “Just a minute, okay? I think I’ve got something in the unit.” He darted off.

  Josh approached the front seat, bent and peered inside. �
�Are you okay?”

  The merest of nods. Shoulders rigid, as if she were barely holding herself from flying apart.

  “Hang on just a minute longer and we’ll be on our way.” He frowned at her body language, but before he could ask her any questions, the patrolman returned, holding out a notebook and a pen.

  “What’s your wife’s name?”

  “Irene,” the patrolman responded. “Man, is she going to be excited. She saw your last picture with me, then she and her girlfriends went back later. Said they couldn’t make do with just one time.” The young man paused. “Guess lots of women have that reaction, huh? All over you?”

  Josh recognized the man’s envious expression. “Too much sometimes,” he admitted. “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. I can’t even go buy gas without—” Josh stopped abruptly.

  “Without being asked for an autograph? Sorry.”

  “No sweat.” He glanced at the patrolman’s name tag. “Officer Skinner, what’s your first name?”

  “David.”

  Josh finished signing a second page for the officer, then started on a third. He signed with quick strokes, then handed it back.

  The patrolman read the third one, then looked back up. “Hey, that’s pretty cool. My kid will like this someday. Thanks, Mr. Marshall.”

  “Josh,” he offered, holding out his hand. “It’s been a pleasure, Officer Skinner.”

  “David.” They shook hands.

  “Do you need anything else from us, David?” Josh asked.

  “Nah. You go on ahead…if you’re sure?” He cast Josh a meaningful glance.

  “I am.”

  The officer’s eyebrows rose, but he shrugged his acquiescence. “You folks have a safe trip.”

  “Thanks.” Josh waved as he rounded the car.

  Elena watched the patrol car leave as Josh settled himself on the seat.

  She was mortified.

  Josh…Marshall. She was in a car with Josh. Marshall. One of the most famous men in the country.

  And she hadn’t recognized him.

  She glanced down at her attire and wanted to disappear.

  “You don’t want to be found, do you?” he asked.

  Her heart thudded in her chest. He might be instantly recognizable by everyone on the planet—except her, she reminded herself—but he was a stranger. Could she trust her life to him?