A Need to Protect

by Diane Benefiel

  With an arm around Dory’s shoulders and Maddy standing at his side, Logan looked unconcerned. “You got this, Brad? I don’t like missing all the fun.”

  Brad didn’t take his attention off his opponent. “Don’t trouble yourself. This is almost over.”

  And it was. Rodrigo charged again, and with a quick move, Brad grabbed his arm and pulled it up behind his back, shoving him face down across the hood of a car.

  “You let me go, Brad,” Rodrigo growled. “You didn’t need to get involved. This is a disagreement between me and my wife.”

  “You know I can’t do that, Rod. It went beyond a disagreement between a man and his wife the first time you hit her.” Breathing heavily, Brad brought the big man’s hands behind his back and cuffed him before giving him a pat down.

  Pulling Rodrigo to his feet, Brad leaned forward. Emma caught the low tone as he spoke. “And guess what, you bastard. That other woman you were tangling with? She’s mine. I’d take you down just for touching her.”

  Rodrigo turned and she could see dark color staining his cheeks as his gaze shifted from Dory to Emma. She thought she knew what was in his mind. He’d been beaten by women. Dory had fought back, probably for the first time. Despite that Brad had ended it, he’d been defeated by women. For someone driven to dominate, Emma figured Rodrigo found the situation humiliating.

  Brad continued to speak in his calm voice. He read Rodrigo his rights, and suddenly the fight seemed to go out of him. His shoulders slumped and he hung his head. A patrol car pulled up and soon Rodrigo was on his way to the police station.

  Emma thought she had never seen a more dejected-looking man. The creep deserved it, she thought resolutely, once again tugging down her skirt, her hands shaking with reaction. She found her shoes, but one heel was broken. The skirt was dirty on one side and her tights had a shredded hole where she’d gotten a scrape just above her knee. She hadn’t even felt it before that moment but suddenly it began to throb painfully.

  At a murmured sound, she looked over to see Maddy wrap Dory in a hug. Emma hobbled over, wincing as rocks bit into her feet. Arms reached out and drew her into the circle.

  Chapter Twelve

  “You’re coming home with me.” Brad had Emma in his truck, the engine idling quietly.

  She nearly hissed in frustration. “I told you, I can take care of myself. Just drop me off at my cabin.”

  “Do you even have first-aid supplies? That gash on your leg needs attention. ”

  “I have Band-Aids.” At least the little ones for paper cuts.

  “Emmaline.” She could hear the effort he put into being patient.

  “Look, Brad. I can take care of myself. I’ve done it for a long time now. Just drop me off and I’ll manage.”

  He stared out the front windshield before turning his head to meet her eyes, dark gaze inscrutable. “You’ll just have to suck it up. You either come to my house and I’ll patch you up, or I wake up Sue Ellsworth who’s an RN, and she does the first aid.” He waited a beat. “What’s it going to be?”

  She wasn’t even sure why she was arguing with him. Her entire body felt like one throbbing ache. She leaned back against the headrest and said, “Okay. You win. We’ll go use your first-aid supplies.”

  Without another word he put the truck into gear and headed toward the highway.

  Emma closed her eyes and let the quiet of the drive soothe her. Like after the fire, the adrenaline crash had left her feeling shaky. Even now an occasional shudder ran through her body. Brad had dealt with the details of Rodrigo’s arrest and had taken Dory aside and spoken quietly with her. She’d been bruised but luckily hadn’t needed medical treatment. A call to her parents had assured Dory that Adrian was safe and Rodrigo hadn’t bothered them. Emma knew Brad needed to get to the police station but here he was, taking her to his house to bandage her leg.

  Opening her eyes she turned toward him. “Why don’t you just take me to the station? You must have first-aid supplies there and I know you have to deal with Rodrigo. And won’t I have to give a statement?”

  He glanced at her and her mouth closed with a click. In the parking lot he’d been calm, completely in control. Not anymore. Once again, those strapped-down emotions were threatening to break free. The turbulence roiling beneath the surface was about to erupt. Emma wasn’t sure whether the passions were directed at her but she suddenly thought it wise to keep her mouth shut.

  The highway wound past her cabins and Emma peered through the trees. The lights she’d left on still burned brightly and everything seemed quiet. Within moments Brad turned onto the road to his house and pulled in front of his garage.

  “I’ll help you out.”

  “I can get out on my own.” But she was talking to herself because Brad was already out on his side and circling the front of the truck. Emma opened her door, swung her legs gingerly to the side, and slid out. When her feet hit the ground she gave a groan as the movement jarred her aching muscles. The useless shoes dangled from her fingers.

  “Damn it, Emma! Don’t you dare move.”

  She looked up in alarm at Brad glowering at her. “Why?”

  “I told you I’d help you out.”

  She spoke carefully, not wanting to light the fuse. “Okay.”

  She wasn’t sure what he intended when he angrily reached for her. But the anger didn’t transfer to his actions. He bent to scoop her up in his arms, gently cradling her against his chest. Instinctively, she wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

  She eyed his profile with caution. “Hmm. This is nice but, I have to say, unnecessary. I can walk on my own.”

  “Just shut up, Emmaline.”

  He ignored her frown, managing to free his keys and still hold onto her. He shouldered open the back door to his house, then stepped through to kick it shut. A light in the kitchen cast enough of a glow to see as he headed to the stairs.

  “Um, Brad. Why are we going upstairs?”

  Ignoring her, he reached the landing, turned right, and stepped through a bathroom doorway. He carefully set her on her feet before flicking on the light. They stared at each other for a long silent moment and then suddenly he pulled her into his arms. Emma closed her eyes and inhaled a shaky breath as he gathered her tightly against his him.

  He rested his back against the wall, feet spread. She leaned into him and he buried his face in her hair.

  Emma gave a muffled sigh. “Brad.”

  He shook his head. “Give me a minute here, Emmaline. I need to hold you.”

  Emma felt the residual anxiety from her confrontation with Rodrigo seep out of her. She rubbed her cheek against his chest, smooth cotton over hard muscle. He smelled faintly of aftershave, soap, and just him. The feeling of being protected soothed her. After a long minute, he loosened his hold and Emma took a step back.

  Voice low, he said, “You should have waited for me and Logan before going after Rodrigo.”

  “He was trying to force Dory into the truck, Brad. I had to stop him.”

  He released a pent up sigh. “We were on our way.” He looked away, then back at her again. “I can’t stand to see you hurt.”

  Emma lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “I can’t say I like it either, but we’re all okay and Rodrigo is in jail.”

  He turned her face to the light. Soft lips whispered across her right temple where she could feel a bruise. Another long moment passed before he pulled back. “Let’s take a look at your leg.”

  “I need a minute, then.”

  When he raised an eyebrow she gave a half smile. “Brad, I have to take off these tights. I won’t run away.”

  He reluctantly left the bathroom and Emma shut the door. She turned to the mirror, wincing when she caught her reflection. Her hair had come out of its barrette and her eyes looked big enough to swallow her face. The bruise along her temple was coloring nicely.

  Finally she bent to peer at her leg. The long, shallow scrape had stopped oozing blood but fabric from her tights had stuck to
it. She eased down the stockings to carefully pull the material from the wound. Once they were off she threw them in the waste bin in the corner. She tugged down the hem of the miniskirt and put down the lid to sit on the toilet. A sharp knock sounded at the door.

  “Okay, you can come in.”

  Brad entered, gave her a quick once-over, and began rummaging in the medicine cabinet. Setting his supplies on the counter he turned toward her with gauze in one hand and antiseptic in the other.

  Emma eyed him warily. “Let me do that.”

  He knelt in front of her. “Shut up, Emmaline.”

  “You tell me to ‘shut up’ one more time and I’ll hurt you.”

  He gave her a look that said he definitely wasn’t intimidated. “You keep telling me you don’t need me and can do everything on your own and we probably will come to blows.”

  She frowned at him. “It’s not that I don’t need you. It’s just that I have to do things for myself.”

  He remained silent as he carefully cleaned the wound, attention focused, warm hands competent. He spread antibiotic ointment and then carefully pressed on a bandage. “It’s not deep, but you’ll need to keep it clean and bandaged for a couple of days.”

  Still on one knee in front of her he paused, hands resting against her legs. “Do you know what I think, Emmaline?” Emma stared at him blankly. “I think you’re afraid, or maybe even terrified, to let anyone do anything for you.”

  Emma frowned at him, distracted as much by the dark hair falling across his forehead as by his intensity. “That’s silly. Who would be afraid of getting help? I’m just independent. It’s how I’ve always been.”

  He stood, pulling her to her feet with him. Fingers entwined in hers kept her standing in front of him. “You are afraid. You’re afraid if you let me do anything for you, I’ll let you down.”

  “That’s silly. I didn’t once think you weren’t going to bandage my leg, that you would let me down.”

  “Not if you thought about it rationally. But I think you’ve been let down so many times in your life by people who really mattered that it has become a habit for you to refuse any kind of help. If you don’t rely on people, they can’t disappoint you.”

  Emma thought it over, uncomfortably aware he was probably right. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  When he simply stared at her, expression serious, Emma sighed. “Okay. Okay. You might have a point. I’ll work on it.”

  Her response seemed to satisfy him. “Look, why don’t you stay here. Have a cup of tea. A shot of whiskey. Something to get that brain of yours to quiet. I need to go to the station but you can give your statement in the morning.”

  She nodded and, reaching up, turned his chin to the light with gentle fingers. A reddening bruise was forming beneath the dark stubble. “That has to hurt.”

  “Yeah, but it was worth it.” He smiled crookedly. “I’ll get you something to change into.”

  She followed him in bare feet as he led the way to his bedroom. Emma looked around with interest. While he didn’t have much furniture downstairs he’d certainly given some thought to his bedroom. The large four-poster bed was framed in a beautiful dark wood that complemented the jewel-toned bedding. Rumpled sheets showed he hadn’t bothered to make the bed that morning. Where downstairs he had left the logs revealed, in his bedroom he had plastered and painted the walls. Because she could so easily visualize him in those navy sheets she shifted her gaze to the nightstand where a novel lay along with a ceramic tray that held loose change and a few receipts.

  Brad went to a dresser and pulled out sweatpants, a T-shirt, and a zippered HLPD sweatshirt. “Here, they’ll be big but comfortable.” The phone on the nightstand rang and Emma took the clothes into the bathroom while he answered. When she came out she could hear his voice downstairs so she set her folded skirt and top at the end of his bed and headed down to the kitchen.

  Stepping into the warmly lighted room, she saw a bottle of Tylenol and glass of water waiting on the counter. Brad was using his shoulder to hold the phone extension to his ear while he filled a teapot. “I’ll be there in fifteen. Get his statement.” He pushed a button and set down the phone. He turned to put the teapot on the stove and spotted Emma. A grin flashed across his face. “Pretty cute.”

  Emma held up her arms where she’d turned back the cuffs several times, then dropped them back to her sides. “Yeah, that’s me. Cute.”

  He looked at her, considering. “When I saw you at the pub I definitely wasn’t thinking cute. I thought I’d been sucker punched.”

  Emma gave back a smile. “You’re easy. A girl puts on a miniskirt and heels and guys fall all over themselves.”

  Brad turned on the flame under the teapot, then moved to stand in front of her. “It’s more than just the skirt and shoes. It’s the whole package. But I have to say, I really like those long legs of yours.”

  She shrugged. “It was fun to dress up for a change. I usually go for comfort.”

  He reached out to tug her closer. “Emmaline, when you’re recovered from this, will you let me take you out to dinner?”

  “Dinner? You mean to a real restaurant?”

  “Yeah. Go out with me on a date to a real restaurant where we both get dressed up. Maybe go dancing after.”

  Emma suddenly felt shy. His question somehow made their relationship more formal. More real. She felt the knots she’d carried in her stomach since she’d returned from the prison ease. He knew everything and he still wanted to be together. Maybe she didn’t have to let the past dictate her future. “I’d like that.”

  “Good.” He smiled, then turned to pick up the Tylenol bottle. He shook out a couple pills and handed them to her. “Here, take these and maybe you won’t have a whopper of a headache tonight.”

  He handed her the glass and Emma swallowed the pills. “You need to go.”

  “Yes, I have to go.” He paused, gaze steady. “I want you to stay here tonight. Dory will be at her parents’ and I don’t want you at the cabins by yourself.”

  When her immediate reaction was to insist she would be fine, Emma forced herself to stop and think. She would be safer at Brad’s house. She also realized her feelings for him had evolved into something deeper. She looked into his serious face and knew she couldn’t hold back from him any longer. The emotions she’d kept buried, that she hadn’t allowed herself to recognize, had to be acknowledged. But right now he had a job to do. “Okay, I’ll stay.”

  “Good. Don’t wait up for me. I’ll be back when I can.” He leaned forward and gave her a swift kiss before grabbing his coat from the back of a chair. In seconds he was through the door, locking it behind him.

  Emma found a mug and poured hot water over a tea bag. Taking her drink with her, she wandered into the living room where she turned on a lamp. Sitting on the comfortable couch, she tucked her feet under her to keep them warm. Taking a sip, she let the tea sooth her. She leaned her head against the cushion and closed her eyes, and finally let herself acknowledge what she’d been hiding from for days. She was in love with Bradley Gallagher.

  The realization didn’t fill her with the panic Emma expected. Instead, contentment she had never known before spread through her. The fear of police, the belief she wasn’t good enough, her unwillingness to depend on others, had all been overcome by Brad’s steadiness, by the ingrained honor so much a part of him. Somehow this amazing, beautiful man cared for her. And he made her see herself, to see beyond her own fears and phobias. She felt for the first time she might have a future that included a man, maybe even a family.

  Finished with her tea, Emma felt her eyes beginning to droop with fatigue when she heard a knock at the back door. She paused, unsure what to do. Did Brad get people knocking on his door for help in the middle of the night? She padded toward the hallway that led to the back door. The knock sounded again, louder this time, followed by a voice. “Brad, it’s me.”

  Marla Banks. What was she doing at Brad’s house this late? Emma pulled open
the door and saw shock cross the woman’s face when she realized who had answered her knock. Under the porch light Emma saw fury flash in her eyes as she took in Emma dressed in Brad’s clothing. “Well, well. I see I’ve let things progress too far. Let me in and then be a good little girl and tell Brad I want to speak to him.”

  It was one of the rare times Emma had seen Marla in something other than a power suit. Tonight she had chosen a silky blouse that drew tight across her breasts and low-rise black pants over heeled boots. The outfit’s provocative sexiness revealed to Emma the point of the late night visit.

  “Brad’s not here.”

  Marla raised a perfectly arced brow. “I see.” Her eyes were icy. “Don’t get too comfortable here, Ms. Kincaid. Bradley feels he has to tend to whatever stray puppy he finds but soon he’ll send you on your way.”

  “You seem pretty confident, Marla.” She let her gaze drift over the woman’s outfit. “And obvious. But since I’m in Brad’s house and you’re not you’ll just have to find another time to try to seduce him.”

  The woman looked apoplectic. “You bitch.”

  Emma smiled, shut the door in the woman’s face, and turned the locks.

  Brad pulled the SUV to a stop in front of the garage. He leaned back against the seat and rubbed the grittiness from his eyes while waiting for the wide door to rise. Rodrigo Calderon was looking at a stretch in state prison and though he knew the man had done it to himself, he couldn’t help thinking he’d probably come out of jail meaner and angrier. The system was far from perfect.

  He entered the house through the back door and wondered if Emma would still be awake at two in the morning. It felt different coming home knowing she was there, that the house wasn’t empty. Definitely something he could get used to. The lamp lit the living room but he found it vacant. Upstairs he turned on the hall light, then peeked into his bedroom.

  In the shadowy light he could see Emma curled on her side in his bed, sleeping soundly. She’d kicked back the covers and his T-shirt gaped at her waist, exposing a line of smooth skin above silky panties. He walked over to look down at her. This is what he wanted. This woman, in his home, in his bed. Quietly, he stripped, then rummaged in his dresser for a pair of flannel pants. It probably crossed the line if Emma woke to find him in nothing but boxers.