No.
He drew in one deep breath and then another. No, he must be practical. As his grandfather always said, there was a time and place for everything.
That wasn’t true. His grandfather didn’t say anything anymore. He was dead.
He returned his attention to the house. The house had an ambiance he couldn’t put his finger on or explain adequately to himself. And that thrilled him down to the bones and sinew.
How did one describe it? It was organic. Not wood or brick or metal, but living and breathing. The wood was a jacket for the life within the structure, and the only ornamentation in an otherwise drab exterior. He looked at the eyes—the slats that shuttered all within from the brightness outside. He feared if the windows were thrown open to light, the evil would shrink and perhaps disappear. He closed his eyes and hoped the house would accept him. He knew that if it swallowed him, his life would forever be complete. He would flourish here where evil knew its own kind and embraced him.
The front door had a lock box, and he took the bold step to touch the lock. Cold metal greeted his fingers. Maybe if he went around the side he’d find what he looked for. He tromped through weeds along the left side of the house past more shuttered windows. He came to the backyard and stopped. There was no swimming pool drained and lonely or a rusted swing set creaking in the wind. He laughed, the sound harsh to his own ears.
Place isn’t fuckin’ haunted.
At least not the way a trick-or-treater or a stupid-assed horror aficionado would expect. This place had more to offer.
The unfenced backyard had nothing in it but the forest stretching out, thick and tangled as far as he could see. He turned to face the back of the house and smiled at what he saw. Ah, yes. The door yawned wide open and beckoned, a dark and welcoming hole. He drew a deep breath and groaned in satisfaction.
Yes. Yes.
The ecstasy welled within him as he absorbed the blackness flowing from the structure’s open maw.
There are teeth in there. Ready to devour. To snack on any who are foolish enough to enter.
But, ah, he was immune to the hate that promised delicious death to normal human beings. He closed his eyes against the powerful evil that spilled from the mouth of the house, and he imagined how the blackness inside the house would lick him. The tongue would be furry perhaps, or maybe even have sharp protrusions. He shivered with the horrible pleasure the idea gave him. He opened his eyes and walked toward the door.
* * *
Cassie strode down the cracked sidewalk along storefronts of Bowmount’s hilly main street appropriately named…Main Street. She wished she’d worn the long-sleeved sweater rather than this thin and good-for-nothing old favorite navy t-shirt. Jeans kept her legs warm, but she’d left her coat in the car. Yesterday, after the thunderstorm, the weather had turned cooler. The storm had lasted a good chunk of the day and didn’t stop until evening. Water had rushed down the streets and passed the resort tucked one block to the west off Main Street. At eighty-two hundred feet elevation, this town smelled fresh and crisp. The sky had washed clean, a brilliant blue so startling it almost looked airbrushed.
Her encounter with Griff and the house on the hill had thrown her off kilter. She still wasn’t sure what she’d seen at the house. Maybe she hadn’t seen the eyes in the window or the beautiful roses that had then been dead not long after. No. Maybe she hadn’t.
“There you are!” Dougray McPhee’s voice, distinctly Scottish, came from behind her.
As her mother would no doubt say, bloody hell.
She turned toward the tourist, her smile fake. “Dougray.”
Dougray was six-foot-two of good-looking, dark-haired male with a body that most women would say qualified as to die for and an accent all women loved. He’d been in the military, too, she’d heard from a lady at the pool Saturday. A few years in the Royal Air Force and his ego was as large as the sun. When he’d met Cassie in the lobby Saturday, he’d immediately struck up a conversation. Unfortunately, his personality grated on her big time. She couldn’t pinpoint anything other than he seemed too in your face and too extroverted. Dougray’s straight hair fell in unruly long waves about his shoulders. The breeze tossed his hair around. In many respects he appeared good enough to eat.
“I’ve been looking for you,” he said.
She really wished he hadn’t. “Oh?”
“Kit at the front desk said you planned to do some shopping. All the tourist stuff is down here. I thought if I was lucky I’d find you.”
“Well, I’m almost done with my shopping, so I think I’ll head back.”
“Come to lunch with me.” His blue eyes sparkled with mischief. He snagged her elbow and hauled her along.
She didn’t protest at first, a little overtaken by his presumptuous attitude. She wasn’t used to being handled like she didn’t know her own mind. Well, no. That wasn’t exactly true. He ex had always treated her this way, and she hated it. Before she knew it they’d arrived in front of Mama’s Trattoria, and she wanted escape big time.
“Come on,” he said again, still hanging on to her elbow.
“No.” She pulled out of his grasp.
He turned and clasped her shoulders. “What’s wrong? Don’t you eat?”
“I didn’t appreciate the manhandling. You didn’t ask, you assumed. Now if you’ll excuse me—”
She started back south and up the hill, ready to head to her car. He clasped her right arm, and the movement caused her shoulder bag to slide and land with a thud on the sidewalk.
“Damn,” she whispered as she leaned down to retrieve it.
That’s when she glanced up and caught sight of a familiar person coming down the hill toward them. Griff. She kept her gaze on Griff, and his laser-sharp gaze caught hers and held. His white t-shirt, jeans, backpack and boony cap made him appear the casual tourist.
Dougray took hold of her forearm. “Come on. You know you want to spend time with me.”
She yanked her arm from his grip again. “Leave me alone, Dougray.”
She marched up the sidewalk until she met Griff.
Griff’s gaze snagged on Dougray. “He giving you trouble?”
“Nothing I can’t handle.”
In a move she didn’t expect, Griff slung his arm around her shoulder and brought her flush against his side. Unfortunately Dougray caught up to them.
“Who are you?” Dougray’s smile was crooked as he scanned Griff.
Griff’s arm around her shoulder drew her closer. “Her date.”
“She wasn’t coming to meet you.”
Cassie made an indignant noise, beyond amazed at both of the men and their audacity. Who were they? Cavemen? “It’s none of your business who I date.”
Dougray grunted. “You’re bloody right. I’m being a sod.”
She half expected Griff to come back with a put down, a scathing word or two to put the Scot in his place. Griff said nothing, but his stare remained on the other man with a dark intensity that gave Cassie a cool chill.
Before she could think of a good comeback for Dougray, Griff’s palm slid possessively to the back of her neck and held her there. The intimacy of that touch rocked through her. A tingle coiled in her stomach. Something in the gesture was far more naked and personal than his arm around her shoulders. She hated that she liked his hand there.
“Come on, Cassie. Let’s eat.” Griff’s touch on her neck retreated, and she headed back down the hill and into the restaurant. Griff followed her.
She found a two person table—she’d learned Saturday that it was a self-seating restaurant. Several people were already eating lunch, and the crowd should have made her feel secure after the bizarre encounter with Dougray. It didn’t. When Griff sat down across from her, though, the air seemed to change. She glanced at Griff’s stern expression and saw a darkness in his eyes. She sensed secrets hiding inside him just as she had Sunday.
“That wasn’t necessary back there. I was handling it. I don’t need rescuing,” she
said.
He looked back at the windows. “Jesus. That guy is friggin’ creepy.”
Dougray stood outside staring into the large glass windows at them. She thought she could feel his eyes boring a hole in her.
“Did you hear what I said, Griff? I don’t need protecting.”
Griff pushed his silver to the side and laid the red paper napkin in his lap. “Most women don’t mind a little protection.”
She glared. “I’m not most women.”
He smiled, the twinkle in his eyes surprising her a little. Was he mocking her? Not taking her seriously?
“Okay, I’m sorry,” he said. “As for that guy, he’s just an egotistical flyboy.”
She looked out the window across the restaurant and Dougray was gone. Instantly the sun coming into the windows seemed brighter.
Odd.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Of course.” No way would she let on that Dougray had frightened her the slightest bit. “So you’ve met Dougray before today.”
“Yeah. He was checking into the hotel right before me. I was in line behind him. Had a shitload of luggage. Oily son-of-a-bitch. He had the clerk ready to have his babies before he finished telling her he used to be in the Royal Air Force.”
She rubbed her arms. “Ugh.”
He ran one hand over his jawline. “Sorry about the cursing. I just…” He cleared his throat. “I hate seeing women abused in any way.”
Begrudging respect filled her center at his words. “It’s okay. My mother always threatened to wash my mouth out with soap when I was a kid. I have a real potty mouth when no one is listening.”
Griff’s lopsided grin sent renewed warmth into her loins. She was glad the bra she wore was lined because her nipples actually tightened. God, the way this man turned her on should be illegal, and she wished she didn’t find him so attractive. Her body was screaming out primal mating urges while her mind was telling her she didn’t want or a need a man. Not even for sexual fulfillment.
“I was coming out of an antique store up the hill and saw him with you. When he grabbed your arm you didn’t look happy about it. That’s when I came back down the hill,” he said.
She managed a smile, because she couldn’t genuinely fault him for coming to her aid. “Thanks again.”
A waitress came to their table, and the tall, older woman said, “Well hello, young man. Weren’t you just in here?”
“You’ve already eaten?” Cassie asked Griff.
“Yeah. Not to worry. I’ll just have some water while you eat.”
After the waitress took Cassie’s salad and tea order, Cassie couldn’t keep silent. “So how did you happen to be in the right place at the right time to rescue me, Sir Galahad?”
“Dumb luck.”
“Don’t tell me you were window shopping. Most men hate to shop.”
“I ate an early lunch here, and Penny Cribbs at the resort had told me Main Street had a bow hunting shop. I was in there before I was in the antique store.”
Intrigued, she said, “That’s interesting. I tried archery several years back and loved it.”
“Yeah? What kind of bow did you use?”
“Traditional. I’d like to try a compound bow, though.”
“I use a compound.”
They chatted about their interest in archery before the waitress brought their drinks and paused the conversation. After the waitress left, his gaze caught hers and held it—she couldn’t escape the intensity she saw there. God, the guy had thick, dark lashes.
“Do you hunt?” she asked. “I mean, with the compound bow?”
“Nah.” He fiddled with the paper napkin, worrying one corner. “I just like to 3-D and target shoot. I learned to hunt a long time ago with a gun and a bow, but that isn’t…” He hesitated. “I don’t care for it anymore.”
Something in his expression told her his past securely guarded. She didn’t like that. After all, not knowing a man’s past could be a dangerous thing.
He gazed at her for several moments without answering, then finally said, “I got out of the marines a year ago. Retired.”
That surprised the hell out of her. “As in twenty years in the service then retired?”
His eyes narrowed. “Yeah. Thought you didn’t know anything about the military.”
“I don’t know much. Just a few things here and there. You don’t look old enough to have been in the military that long.”
His smile returned, the sparkle in his green eyes warmer. “I’m thirty-eight. I got in when I was eighteen.”
Now she was surprised. “Holy cow. I thought you couldn’t be any older than thirty.”
He tore another piece of napkin. “I don’t know whether to be flattered by that or not. I’m a Federal marshal now.”
Federal marshal indeed. She liked the sound of it, the solidity and safety. At the same time it confirmed for her what she’d sensed from the moment she’d met him. He defined danger. First as a marine and now in another job specifically designed to serve and protect. No wonder he’d thought he needed to rescue her.
Curiosity kept her going. “What did you do in the marines?”
“Airborne reconnaissance officer.”
She threw him a quick grin. “Means diddly to me, but that’s okay. Why did you retire?”
He answered with an easy voice. “Was tired of it, plain and simple. It wasn’t fun anymore. I was in Iraq and Afghanistan a few times and that was the end of the road for me. I wanted something different.”
After sipping her coffee she said, “I know it sounds like a worn out platitude but…thank you for your service.”
His eyes grew warm. “Thanks is always appreciated.”
Whoa. She hadn’t expected to feel this attraction grow to Griff this quickly and strongly, and she shoved it down where it belonged. She didn’t know if she’d ever be interested in another relationship with a man. In that direction led complications, and she liked the way her life was now. Convenient. Happy and content. Liar. Content proved boring on occasion, but then maybe calm and uncomplicated was good.
Her meal came, and suddenly she was ravenous. She scarfed down her chicken salad, and when she glanced up, his eyes pinpointed her precisely, as if watching her fascinated him somehow. Busy restaurant chatter filled the background. He finished his glass of water, and she sipped the last of her tea.
“Want to go hiking with me tomorrow morning?” he asked out of the blue.
She glanced up from her plate. “Hiking? Where?”
“Back to the top of the hill. Where we met on Sunday.”
Caution battled inside her with genuine enjoyment of the idea. “This is going to sound crazy as hell, but…”
“What?”
“Can I see some I.D.?”
His eyebrows went up. “Something tells me there’s another story behind that, too.”
She waved one hand in dismissal. “Never mind. It’s stupid.”
He reached in his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He slid it across the table toward her. “Just don’t nick my credit cards.”
She grinned. “Your ex spend too much money?”
He grunted and shredded the last of his napkin. He’d made a pile on his empty plate. “I’ve had one steady girlfriend and that was before I joined the marines. She had her own credit card.”
She threw him a smile that she knew held plenty of doubt. “I don’t believe it.”
“That she had her own credit card?”
“That you haven’t had other girlfriends.”
“My job for twenty years was my mistress.”
She thought she understood. “So you had women here and there, just no one steady.”
“You got it. I’ve never had a long term relationship, and I don’t see one in my future.”
“I don’t either. Once bitten, twice shy and no interest in revisiting that again.”
There. They’d given each other parameters. All of which worked very well for her. She hadn’t
come to Bowmount for a hook up.
His wallet revealed he told the truth—about who he was, that is. His military identification card showed he was retired, and a driver’s license in his wallet came from Montana and gave his birthdate as October 31, and that he was thirty-eight years old. A badge showed he was a Federal marshal.
A small photo of a young, beautiful woman with dark hair caught her eye, and she held his wallet out to him. “She’s not your girlfriend?”
He reached across and took the wallet, his face serious. “That’s my mother a very long time ago.”
When he didn’t say another word about it, she decided to let it go. She hadn’t known him long enough to hear all his secrets, and she might never know him that well. She only had a week here. Hardly enough time for a man to reveal all his past, and not enough to show him all hers even if she’d wanted to.
The waitress brought the check, and Griff took money out of his wallet.
“Wait,” Cassie said. “You’re not paying.”
“My treat.”
“Why? You’ve already paid for your lunch.”
“I’m trying to bribe you to hike back to the Point with me tomorrow,” he said with deadpan certainty. “Or maybe meet me at the indoor pool for a swim.”
She shook her head. “I don’t swim.”
He frowned, lines between his brows. “You can’t swim?”
“I can, but I choose not to.”
She half expected him to question her on why, and she could see him cogitating on the reason. But instead of asking, he nodded. “Okay. Hiking then?”
A slow smile came over her mouth. “All right. Now I think I’ll finish my shopping.”
Holding Out For A Hero: SEALs, Soldiers, Spies, Cops, FBI Agents and Rangers Page 119
