If the Dark Wins (Finley Creek Book 4)

by Calle J. Brookes

“Checking on you three. I have a dispatch alert on your address. Travis.” Elliot clapped his cousin on the shoulder. Lacy took a quick look at the chief of Finley Creek’s TSP. He and Travis had the same color hair, though they wore it completely differently. Elliot’s was neat and short. Travis’ curled over his head. Travis was leaner and a few years younger. But there was no denying they were related. “I didn’t realize Lacy’s place was so close to Pop’s until recently.”

  “Elliot, how have you been?”

  “Never better. Missed you at the wedding.”

  “Sorry about that. I had to fly to Japan unexpectedly. Got a little stuck there. In traction. Rafe rescued me.”

  “So I heard.” Elliot turned to Lacy. “What happened, Lace?”

  “We’re not really sure. We were inside laying the laminate when we smelled the smoke. Travis came, with water.”

  “We’ll get my forensics team out here, see if we can figure it out.”

  “Thanks, El.”

  Jillian and Ari stepped closer. Lacy hugged them both quickly. They reeked, not just of sweat, glue, but now smoke on top of that.

  Jillian’s hair was drenched--the hose she’d been using had a hole near the nozzle that sprayed the user straight in the face every time. But it didn’t matter. “The house is safe.”

  “Yes. And now...now what?” Jillian asked. “I’m exhausted. I’m still not used to third shift again.”

  “You three want to come home with me? Or go to Jillian’s?” Elliot asked. “Until Forensics can get out here?”

  Lacy looked at her friends. She didn’t want to leave her home for even a single night. Not after she could have lost it. But...her friends...they looked miserable. “If they want to.”

  Jillian stared at her for a long moment, doing that Jillian thing where she peered right into a person’s soul, then shook her head. “No. We’re fine here, Elliot.”

  He hesitated. “Ok, but...first sign something’s wrong out here you call Chance or me, you understand?”

  “Nothing’s wrong. It was just a small fire,” Jillian told him. “We’re strong, kick-ass women. We got it covered.”

  Lacy appreciated her friend’s humor. But... “Thanks, Elliot. We’ll handle it from here.”

  31

  The ER was filled with talk of the fire even a full day later. Logan heard it the moment he walked in. You would think a hospital in a city of forty-five thousand people would have something more interesting to talk about than a damned shed fire out in the middle of nowhere.

  That wasn’t the case, apparently.

  Lacy was off--he’d checked her schedule to confirm--but that little redhead was there. Logan watched her for a while, feeling only a mild tug of attraction. Beautiful, sexy, of course, but she wasn’t Lacy.

  She was coming off late shift, just as that behemoth Holden-Deane was coming in from the day.

  Talk about fireworks. Logan interrupted when the guy’s tirade about something Beck had done got to be a bit too vicious. She just looked so small and helpless next to Holden-Deane; he’d had to say something.

  She sent him a grateful look and booked it out of the ER.

  Holden-Deane shot a glare at Lanning. “What?”

  He just shook his head as Wanda, the assistant head ER nurse who sometimes filled in up in Surgery, turned toward Holden-Deane and laid into him just like she used to Logan.

  He didn’t envy Holden-Deane that task. Wanda went on to tell him that someone checking Jillian’s paperwork was an accommodation they legally had to make, because the nurse was dyslexic. She used electronic devices for most of her chart work, but always had someone check for errors, on her own volition.

  Holden-Deane winced, and told Wanda thanks for letting him know.

  And then he took off after the redhead like his heels were on fire.

  Logan listened to Patel speculating about Holden-Deane and Jillian and it burned him. Jillian Beck was too good for a man like Holden-Deane, even in just a joke.

  Far too good. Just like his Lacy was too good for Holden-Deane’s cowhand brother.

  Logan dwelled on her for most of the afternoon, and knew he’d have to do something to make it right. Just a simple I’m sorry, without admission of culpability wouldn’t cut it. He smoked another joint, then took his next Solpalmitraln a bit early to help calm his guilt down.

  He settled for calling the most expensive florist in the city and ordering a dozen purple and white roses, as well as a nice box of chocolates. He stopped off on his way to lunch and paid with cash so that it couldn’t be traced back to him--he knew she had several important connections with the TSP and that billionaire Barratt--and hoped it would be enough to at least make her smile.

  It was about all he could do right now. He would have to be patient, find a way to get her away from Travis Worthington-Deane’s influence, and then make her see what she really needed from the man in her life. Make her see that he was a far better choice than that damned Deane.

  He would just make her see. Just because he’d always lost to Marcus and Rafe Deane, didn’t mean this youngest brother was going to win. Not when the stakes were so damned high.

  The Deanes were not going to win.

  32

  The roses were sitting on the front porch of Lacy’s home when Travis pulled in around five that afternoon. He’d given her one full day alone to sleep and deal with the aftermath of the fire. But, and Travis wasn’t too arrogant to admit it, he just wanted to see her for himself.

  He almost tripped over the chocolate box; it had slipped behind the step and was half hidden by the vase of some very expensive looking roses.

  Travis didn’t touch. They weren’t for him, after all. But he didn’t like the idea of some other guy sending his girl flowers.

  Not that she was really his girl, but he would sure like her to be.

  It took her a moment to answer the door and when she did he had to keep from drooling.

  Dr. Lacy McGareth was wearing nothing but a pair of skimpy silk sleep shorts and tiny tank top. All of that pale smooth skin was exposed right there for him to see. She sure knew how to tempt a man just by breathing.

  “Air conditioner not working?” Where had the words come from? He was struggling just to breathe.

  “Fuse blew and I don’t have any more yet. So...no air.” She yawned. “I saw it was you, so said heck with it. Elliot vouches for you. Not like you’ve never seen female skin before.”

  “Honey, if I have, I sure don’t remember. Come here, and give me a kiss. Then tell me who the flowers are from.” Travis wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her right over the threshold of her house until they were eye-to-eye. “Kiss me?”

  HE GAVE her such a puppy-dog look she just had to. Lacy knew it was crazy, but she had never had a man flirt with her in quite the same way as this one did.

  One thing she could say about Travis Worthington-Deane, he did not pressure her. She’d had men be attracted before and get more than a little pushy--there was one notable doctor who’d started out panting over Jillian and then turned to Lacy just a few years ago once he’d realized Jillian wasn’t legally old enough to drink at the time. Lacy had set him straight real quick.

  But not Travis.

  She let him kiss her quickly--she hadn’t even brushed her teeth yet--then squirmed for him to put her down.

  It was something more. Some weird sort of physical connection that made her almost eager to let him.

  “What flowers?”

  “Purple and white roses--do roses come in purple?--and chocolate soup.” He bent down and lifted the red box. “You have a secret admirer?”

  “Seriously? You didn’t bring them?” She looked at his face just to make sure he wasn’t trying to pull one over on her.

  “Nope. I would know better than to leave expensive chocolates out in ninety-five-degree weather. And I knew you were sleeping. I’d have had them dropped off at the hospital where they wouldn’t melt and all your little minions could have cooed
over them. I’m thoughtful like that.”

  Lacy bent down and picked up the vase. There was a card. She opened it quickly. “Thank you for making me feel again. Being near you has always been a real pleasure.”

  “Well, that’s poetic. No idea who they are from?” Travis asked.

  “No.”

  “So... anyone could have left them here?”

  “I suppose, why?” There was something in his tone that had her looking at him more closely. “Travis? What?”

  “If you don’t know who sent them, and they knew your address, that concerns me. I won’t lie. Especially with that part about being near you.” He took the roses from her hands and carried them inside behind her. He placed them in the center of the table. “Why don’t you call the florist? See if they left a name.”

  “They’re just flowers, Travis. I’ve received them before. Now, I’m going to take a shower. Why are you here again?” she asked, refusing to let fear take hold.

  “I’m just driving through. Hank and my hands will be back in the back pasture tomorrow. I’m replacing the fences. I didn’t want you to be shocked; you know, walk out your back door nekkid or anything. Although, you can now, if you want? There’s the pond back there. We can have a picnic, go skinny-dipping.”

  Tempting. But... “Git. I have rounds in a few hours. I’m going to shower, then head to town.”

  “Ok, ok. But...kiss me first.”

  He wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her closer. The thin pajamas she wore were little better than being naked. She felt long, hard, strong male pressed up against her in every way.

  Lacy fought the urge to just purr.

  Travis Worthington-Deane made her forget her own mind at times, didn’t he?

  He was far more dangerous to her status quo than she had realized.

  She kissed him back, then shooed him away from her home.

  She didn’t know how she managed it, but she got through her rounds at the hospital. She didn’t have too many patients in now. Rounds didn’t take too long, but she had to stop off at the intake desk and answer all the questions about the fire at her place and Travis’ help. She strongly suspected Jillian had told Annie and Wanda that he’d shown up to rescue her at the last minute. It would be something Jillian would do to give Lacy a hard time.

  She’d have to get even with her friend somehow. It just worked that way.

  THERE WAS a handsome cowboy still haunting her home when Lacy pulled in after rounds, and stopping off at a take-out place to grab dinner.

  Her stomach immediately tightened at how good he looked. Even if he was all sweaty and rumpled and looking like he’d spent all day out in the sun. “Why are you still here?”

  “Well, I was out there fixing fences and that gave me time to think.”

  “Did it hurt?”

  “Now, honey, you should be nice, remember?” He grabbed the bag of food from her and peered inside. “You get any extra?”

  “Not telling.” She had. She always did when she got take-out. That way she didn’t have to cook for herself the next night either. With it just her around the ranch, what was the point? She could share with him. If she wanted.

  But the longer he stayed the longer she wanted him to stay. Something for her to keep in mind.

  This man could be very, very dangerous to her future plans and she knew it. Maybe the best way to get rid of him was to humor him? “So what were you thinking about?”

  “Honey, those flowers shouldn’t have come here. That tells me it is someone who knows where you live. And you live out here all alone. It worries me. You ever hear back from Elliot’s people?”

  She wasn’t used to Serious Travis. That had her pausing and looking at him. “It came back inconclusive. Something started that fire, but they don’t know what. One theory is that it was sunlight through a piece of glass caused a spark and smoldered all evening.”

  “That’s a bit far-fetched.”

  She had agreed. And so had Chance. Elliot had wanted to call a state inspector, but that would take a while. And it was just one empty shed. Not exactly a high priority—even if it was the Finley Creek chief asking. “But possible.”

  “Honey…”

  “Quit honeying me. Go home,” Lacy look at the man sitting on her porch swing. “It’s no big deal. They were flowers.”

  “How do you know? I googled stalkers. Twenty-three hundred people are killed by their stalkers each year. Most of those victims are women.” For once he wasn’t joking. She could see that. “I don’t like you out here alone like this. Not so soon after that fire.”

  When he put it like that…She was familiar with the statistics. One of the major areas Ari’s charity worked in was lobbying to get better stalking laws on the agendas everywhere. “Travis, I’ve gotten anonymous gifts before. Some patients send flowers. There was this one MVA patient — old enough to be my father—who sent two dozen peach roses. They were beautiful. And expensive. He kept calling me Peaches when I’d check on him. And he grabbed my butt once.”

  “SO, if I call my brother and ask if gifts are common, he’ll say yes?” Travis knew he was pushing, but…he felt itchy. Like something was about to happen. He’d rather be overly cautious, then underprepared. She was more than just isolated out here—she was practically cut-off. From everyone but him. The fire had just proven that.

  “Who would give him gifts? Should have seen how horrible he was to Jillian earlier…”

  “Nice try, Distraction Queen. So…”

  “No. Not common, but not unheard of.”

  Travis straightened. “Let me ask you this… Have any of these gifts shown up here before?”

  “No.”

  “That doesn’t concern you? Worry you at all?”

  She hesitated, and that’s when he figured it out. She was scared. And it did worry her. But Lacy Renee McGareth--he’d learned her middle name when she’d signed the rental contract--didn’t let a man know she was afraid of anything.

  Because she didn’t trust all that easily? Because of her time in foster care? He didn’t want to overgeneralize her past, so he didn’t ask. But it got him to thinking. He’d call his cousin himself in the morning. Talk to Elliot about what the flowers could mean.

  Travis wasn’t leaving her there to face the dark alone tonight. He also didn’t want to be the one to scare her, either. “Send me out a blanket. One for me and the pet gator under your porch. A pillow if you have one to spare.”

  “Seriously? I can take care of myself. I don’t need a babysitter.”

  “Seriously. I don’t think you should take this lightly, Lacy. We both know shit happens to good people, too. And you out here all alone like this? Just appease me. Please? I’ll even let Elliot tell me what an idiot I’m being in the morning, ok?”

  “Fine. But you’re not sleeping inside my house. Just for one night, and I talk to Elliot myself. I... I’m not comfortable with men in my space like that, Travis.”

  “I know, honey—baby, darlin’, sweetheart, whichever you like best.” And he did. For all the spit and fire this sassy little creature possessed there was an equal amount of fear. He didn’t know how he knew that, but he did.

  Tenderness rushed through him. If nothing else, she didn’t deserve to be so alone and frightened tonight. If that meant he stayed on a weak excuse, then so be it. “But if you’re feeling generous, I wouldn’t mind a kiss. Tuck me into my bed, tell me a story. Glass of milk and cookies, if you got’em. And a kiss good-night from the pretty blonde lady.”

  “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

  “It’s the Deane charm. You women are completely helpless against it. I mean, just look at Marc. Seventy-two percent of his voters were women in the last election.”

  “I voted for him. It’s the smile. Comes off as so sincere. When everything happened a few months ago, he dove over Mel. Jillian’s sister. She’s partially paralyzed, you know? He covered her with his own body while men were shooting around them. He’s a good ma
n.”

  Travis turned serious. He knew how close it had come for his brother. “He’s one of the best I know. And Lace? The other one is my brother Rafe. Nothing he wouldn’t do to help someone in need. If I can be half the men they are, I’m doing my name proud.”

  33

  He really meant it. Lacy thought about that as she grabbed a blanket and a pillow from what pretended to be her spare room. Whenever Jillian and Ari spent the night the two of them took the twin beds that had been in that room for more than twenty-five years. Or so Lacy thought. They may have belonged to the previous owner before her great-aunt had purchased it, but she was half convinced they’d been her sisters’ before they’d died.

  She’d like to think that, anyway.

  She could let him take one of those beds, but...

  She’d meant what she said. People, men, in her space were more than she was comfortable with. Even in her past relationships, they’d met in more neutral areas. Or the guy’s place.

  Her place was her sanctuary. Period.

  She could still smell the char in the air. The remnants of what had once been the shed someone had built on the property fifteen years ago, shortly after her family had died served as a visual reminder.

  The shed was gone, no getting over that. It had probably been a freak thing, a strike of lightning or a bad wire, but what it if it wasn’t? What if there was more to it than that?

  And the roses and chocolate did concern her. She wasn’t stupid. She’d seen with her own eyes the damage stalkers could do.

  Not that she thought she had a stalker. It was just suggestion, paranoia after everything that had happened. It was probably just an overzealous patient, a little too grateful to the youngest doctor on the team that had saved him--or her--that’s all it was. As for gifts, well, she may have fibbed a bit on that. She’d gotten roses two other times besides this one. And always at the hospital.

  Still... She had to admit that after the fire and now the roses, she was a bit more reassured that someone was out there with her.