Shattered Blue: A Romantic Thriller

by Jane Taylor Starwood

  “I was just thinking how easy you are to talk to, how relaxed I feel with you.”

  Matt smiled. “That’s good, right?”

  “That’s very good. I’ve never, um— I’ve never had a conversation quite like that with a man before.”

  “You never teased a guy about waking up with a hard-on? Imagine that.”

  Her laughter escaped in a raucous bark. “Oh, God, Matt,” she said, “you’re so good for me. I love that you make me laugh so much. I love how relaxed I am when I’m with you. I love—” She broke off, suddenly afraid of what was about to come out of her mouth.

  “Yeah? You love?”

  Safe. Make it safe. “I love—the way you make me feel.”

  There was the slightest hesitation before he responded. “And how is that?”

  “I don’t know exactly,” she said. “I can’t define it.”

  “But you love it. The way I make you feel.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Good. That’s good.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “I’m going to pull over and kiss you now.”

  “That would be nice.”

  He quirked his eyebrows and she laughed. “Very, very nice,” she said.

  Matt braked, swung the truck to the shoulder, put the transmission in park, climbed out, walked around the hood and opened her door. He lifted her down into his arms and kissed her until her head spun, then boosted her back into the truck, walked around to the driver’s side, climbed in and pulled back onto the highway, grinning from ear to ear.

  It took more than five miles for Shane’s heartbeat to retreat to normal. It wasn’t just the kiss. She’d come so close blurting out that she loved him. What would he have done if she’d actually said it?

  The absurdity of falling in love so fast washed over her again and she looked away from him, out the side window, to hide the flush she felt creeping up her neck. If this wasn’t love, what was it? A late adolescent crush? It felt so much stronger, so much deeper than that. She would just have to wait it out and see what happened. In the meantime, Shane resolved to keep a tighter rein on her mouth.

  Close, Matt thought, but no cigar. She’d almost said it, almost let it slip out. Now he could tell she was embarrassed. She was looking out the side window to hide her face, but the part of her cheek he could see had turned pink.

  She was so lovely, so sweet. He wanted to pull over again, hold her, tell her he was falling hard for her, but it was clear she wasn’t ready for that. And that was okay. He’d give her all the time she needed. Right now he wanted to help her relax again, get her talking in that easy way. He loved the sound of her voice.

  “So,” he said, “tell me about your childhood.”

  Shane’s quick intake of breath told him he’d hit a sore spot, maybe way more than sore. It jolted him. He knew there was something painful in her past that kept her from letting go, but it had never occurred to him that it had happened when she was a child. An abusive boyfriend, a stalker, even date rape. Any of those things would have been bad enough. But when she was a child?

  A fierce anger rose up in him then, a dark fever burning in his blood. He’d never felt such rage, not even when he’d found out what had caused the plane crash that killed his parents. He’d thought nothing could ever make him angrier than that, but he’d been wrong. He wanted to hurt whoever had done that to Shane. Hurt? He wanted to kill him. But not before he’d made him suffer.

  Matt breathed deeply and slowly, fighting to contain his fury. This wasn’t the right time. Someday she would trust him enough, and then she would tell him. He hoped that day would come soon. Right now he needed to concentrate on his driving before he ran them off the road. And he had to distract Shane from the pain his careless words had triggered. Think!

  He had it. Hoped he had it. “Scratch that. What’s your happiest memory, Shane?”

  After a long pause, she said, “My happiest memory? Watching old black-and-white Westerns with my father.”

  Yes! Matt did a mental fist pump. Shane’s eyes were alight with remembered joy. She deserved all the happy memories in the world, and he was going to do his best to help her make them, starting right now.

  Then he made the connection. “And one of those movies was “Shane.” That’s where you got your new name.”

  She rewarded him with a bright smile. “Yes,” she said. “I guess I wanted to be the hero of my own life.”

  He took her hand, squeezed it, held on.

  TWENTY-ONE

  They passed the rest of the trip in light-hearted conversation punctuated by stretches of comfortable silence and country music on local radio stations.

  Just when Shane thought she’d heard all the twangy guitar and love-gone-wrong songs she could stand, they reached the sprawling outskirts of Phoenix. A few minutes later, they found a decent-looking chain motel a block off the interstate.

  Matt pulled up to the office, turned off the engine and looked over at Shane.

  “So, I guess we need two rooms, huh?” he said.

  She’d known this was coming but still felt unprepared. “Matt—”

  “Two rooms it is. I’ll be right back.”

  When he opened the driver’s door, dry heat poured into the air-conditioned cab. Living at six thousand feet, Shane had almost forgotten how hot it could get on the desert floor. She didn’t know how anyone could stand to live here when the mountains were so close to perfect.

  Matt came out in a few minutes, climbed back into the driver’s seat, handed Shane a plastic card key and drove around to the back of the two-story building.

  Their rooms were next to each other on the ground floor. When Shane walked inside, the first thing she did was look for an adjoining door. The double bed took up most of the wall adjacent to Matt’s room; no adjoining door in sight. Uncertain if she felt relieved or disappointed, Shane lifted her duffle onto the bed. She was turning on the air-conditioning when Matt appeared in the doorway.

  “Everything okay?” he said, raising his voice over the metallic hum that filled the room.

  “Yes, fine. How’s your room?”

  “Cheap-motel modern,” he said, glancing around the boxy room with its burnt-orange and beige furnishings. “The mirror image of yours. Ugly, but clean.” He looked at his watch. “It’s almost noon. Hungry?”

  Shane realized she wasn’t. Her stomach was starting to do flip-flops in anticipation of seeing Gram. It had been so long. What if her health had deteriorated? “I don’t think I could eat,” she said. “You?”

  “I’ll grab a bite after I bring your grandmother. Or, if she hasn’t eaten, maybe we’ll pick something up on the way,” he said. “There’s one thing we haven’t discussed, though. What if she’s not home?”

  Shane frowned. “You’re right, I hadn’t thought about that. If she’s not there, I don’t think she’d be gone long. She’s a homebody, like me.”

  “I’ll call you on the room phone if I have to wait,” he said. “You still have my cell number, right?”

  She pictured his business card tucked inside her handbag. “Yes, I have it.”

  “Call me if you need anything.”

  “I will.” Her stomach was still dancing.

  He gave her an appraising look. “You look nervous, Shane. Are you okay?”

  She laughed a little. “I guess I’m a bit jittery. The last time Gram and I got together it was a disaster.”

  “Won’t happen this time, I promise,” he said. “Come here.”

  She walked into his arms and he wrapped them around her, holding her close. It felt so good, so right, being held in Matt’s arms like this, her head tucked under his chin, her cheek against his chest. They were a perfect fit, like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. She felt as if she’d been searching for him all her life, and now, finally, after she’d all but given up hope, here he was.

  She was terrified something would happen to spoil it, terrified she would spoil it herself by not being able to move beyond her past
. She held on tighter, burrowed her cheek deeper into his chest. After another moment, she felt his hands on her arms, gently loosening her grip.

  “Hey, Shane, honey? I’d love to stand here holding you all day, but don’t you want me to go get your grandmother?”

  She looked up at him and saw the teasing affection in his eyes. She smiled and stepped out of his arms.

  A minute later, as she watched Matt get into his truck and drive away, Shane felt a little dazed. He’d called her “honey.” That was new. And wonderful.

  All the way to Sunshine Meadows, following the disembodied female voice of the GPS, Matt felt the imprint of Shane’s warm body against his. She’d clung to him like she never wanted to let go.

  The feeling was mutual. Peeling himself out of her arms had been almost painful and he couldn’t wait to get back to her. It was a powerful sensation, one he’d never felt with Vanessa, or anyone else, for that matter. He thought he’d been in love before, but it was never like this. Not anywhere near this heady mix of urges and emotions. He felt like he was ready to detonate.

  He easily found the address on Desert Rose Lane and parked across the street. The first thing he noticed was a black HumVee parked in front of the house next door. It looked odd and ungainly, out of place in this neighborhood of simple dwellings.

  Susan Malone’s house was a tidy cottage tarted up with faux-Victorian touches, fronted by a porch barely big enough for a single rocker. The small front yard was a xeriscape of rock and cactus. No watering required and, to his eye, about as inviting as a pile of gravel.

  The window boxes, however, were another story, and he was sure they showed a woman’s touch. A rainbow riot of gerbera daisies, pansies, petunias and impatiens burgeoned from the simple redwood boxes, adding bright punctuation marks to the stark scene. Matt smiled as he walked up the flagstone path and rang the bell.

  He’d been expecting a grandmotherly female, so Matt was more than surprised when a man opened the door: a tall, trim but muscular man with a ruggedly handsome, bearded face, out of which intense brown eyes peered suspiciously at him. His neatly trimmed hair and beard held no trace of gray, though Matt knew that could be easily managed.

  The man braced both arms in the doorway, effectively blockading the interior. Matt guessed he stood about six-two and weighed around one-eighty. Nobody to mess with, even at his age, which Matt figured at sixty-something.

  “Yeah?” the man said. “What do you want?”

  There was a hint of threat and more than a hint of Southern drawl in his inflection. Matt half-expected him to pull out a .44 Magnum and growl, “Go ahead. Make my day.” He looked at the house number next to the door: 127. That was right. Maybe Shane’s grandmother had moved without telling her. That would not be good.

  “I’m looking for Susan Malone,” Matt said. “This is the address I have for her.”

  The man squinted harder, as if trying to see through Matt’s skin to the man beneath. “Who are you and what do you want with Susan?” he drawled.

  Ah, Matt thought: right address, unexpected dragon guarding the door. Good for Shane’s grandmother, but a complication for him.

  “My name’s Matt Brennan,” he said. “I’m a friend of Ms. Malone’s granddaughter, Shane.”

  The dragon’s eyes narrowed, looking him up and down.

  “Who is it, Doug?”

  The feminine voice came from behind the dragon, who didn’t remove his intent gaze from Matt.

  “Says he’s a friend of your granddaughter’s.”

  A white head poked under the dragon’s arm and peered up at Matt, who offered his friendliest smile. “Ms. Malone?” he said.

  “Let me by, Doug. It’s all right, he doesn’t look like he bites.”

  Doug stood aside but stayed next to the doorway with his arms folded over his chest, apparently assessing Matt’s potential as a home invader.

  Susan Malone bore a strong resemblance to Shane. She was about the same height, with the same slender figure—remarkable in a woman who had to be in her late sixties, at least—and the same striking blue eyes in a lined but lovely face. Matt felt as if he were seeing Shane forty years from now. Far from being freaked out, he was looking forward to those forty years, watching the changes in her as he went through parallel changes of his own. Assuming things worked out between them, and he was assuming that. He had to. Nothing else made sense any more.

  “You’re not a reporter, are you?” Susan threw it at him like an accusation.

  The fierce look she gave him had him tossing up his hands, palms out in self-defense.

  “No way,” he said. “I’m just your average, garden-variety, friendly architect.”

  Susan Malone regarded him thoughtfully for another moment. “All right, then, Mr. Architect,” she said, “what’s this about my granddaughter?”

  He reached in his pocket for his smartphone and could have sworn every muscle in Doug’s body tensed before the guy saw the phone and stood down. Former cop or Marine, Matt guessed. He had that tough and tested look about him.

  Matt brought up the video and angled the phone so Susan and Doug could see the screen.

  “What’s this?” Susan asked.

  She peered at the screen and Matt saw surprise in her eyes, then delight.

  “Hi, Gram,” Shane’s voice said. “This good-looking guy next to me is Matt Brennan. He’s my friend and neighbor here in New Mexico. He drove me to Phoenix and now he’s going to bring you to see me. Please trust him and go with him. I can’t wait to hug you. I love you, Gram. See you in a little while.”

  By the time the clip ended, Susan’s eyes were filled with tears and she was clinging to Doug, who held her in a protective embrace.

  Now came the tricky part. Would Doug balk at letting her go with him?

  Matt cleared his throat. “Shane’s waiting at a motel about twenty minutes from here, Ms. Malone. I’ve got my truck right across the street.”

  “I’ll drive her,” Doug said. “We’ll follow you.”

  Matt and Susan both looked at Doug. It was clear his mind was made up, and also clear that nobody crossed the dragon; he looked like he could turn you to cinders with one fiery glance. Matt thought he could take him if it came to that, and then he caught himself. The man was just being protective; there was no reason to go into battle mode.

  “That’s fine,” Susan said. “I want you two to meet. I’ll just get my purse.”

  A few minutes later the two-vehicle caravan was wending its way east, the huge chrome grill of Doug’s Hummer dominating Matt’s rearview mirror until he put a little more distance between them.

  Shane paced the worn beige carpet in her motel room, twitching the curtain aside every few minutes to peer into the parking lot. How long did it take to get to Gram’s house and back? Thirty, forty minutes? What if she wasn’t there? What if she’d moved back to Texas without telling her? No, there was no way Gram would do that.

  If only Gramps hadn’t died, she thought. She worried about Gram being alone and it galled her that she couldn’t see her, or even talk to her, whenever she wanted to. Damn reporters.

  Shane had just sat down on the end of the bed when she heard the approaching growl of a big engine. She jumped up, opened the door, and saw Matt getting out of his truck. Gram wasn’t in the seat beside him. Raw disappointment flooded through her.

  Another vehicle pulled in beside Matt’s truck, a huge black Hummer with tinted windows. Apparently Matt had seen the disappointment on her face; he caught her eye and tilted his head toward the Hummer.

  Puzzled, Shane watched the tall, bearded driver climb out and amble around to open the passenger door. Out climbed Gram.

  With a wild whoop, Shane ran to her grandmother and grabbed her up in her arms. “Gram! I was afraid you weren’t coming. It’s so wonderful to see you.”

  Gram hugged her back. “Of course I came, baby. Let me get a good look at you.”

  Gently detaching Shane’s arms from around her neck, she held her
away and looked her up and down with delight. “Well, I declare, you look wonderful! Isn’t she a sight for sore eyes, Doug?”

  “She’s your spittin’ image,” he replied. “Bound to be a sight for sore eyes.”

  “Oh, Doug,” Gram said, her cheeks turning pink, “you do go on.”

  All right, Shane thought, time to find out who this “Doug” was. She draped an arm around her grandmother’s shoulders and turned to find herself looking into a pair of brown eyes framed by deep crow’s feet. Those eyes, full of toughness and shrewd intelligence, smiled cooly at her as they sized each other up. No flies on him, Shane thought.

  “I suppose you’re wondering my intentions toward your grandma here,” Doug said in an exaggerated drawl.

  Shane laughed in surprise and her grandmother giggled like a schoolgirl.

  “Honey,” Gram said, “I’d like you to meet Doug Galvin, my next-door neighbor. Doug, this is my granddaughter, Shannon— I mean Shane MacKinnon.”

  The hand Doug extended for Shane to shake was as hard and tough as he looked.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Doug,” she said.

  “Likewise,” Doug said.

  Shane tilted her head at him. He was so obviously more than a neighbor. And what was up with neighbors these days, anyway?

  “Since you brought it up, Mr. Galvin,” she said, “just what are your intentions toward my grandmother?”

  “Shane! Mind your manners!” Gram said.

  “It’s okay, Suzy-Q,” said Doug. “Why don’t you show her?”

  Shane frowned. Suzy-Q? “Show me what?”

  Gram smiled shyly, then held out her left hand, where a small diamond glinted in a simple gold band. “Last night Doug asked me to marry him, and I said yes.”

  Shane’s head spun. This wasn’t what she’d expected from her visit with Gram.

  “You’re engaged?” Her voice rose to an embarrassing squeak. “How long have you known him, Gram?”

  “Why? Are you afraid he’s after my fortune?”

  Her tone was sharp and it brought Shane up short.

  “I’m sorry, Gram. I’m happy for you, I really am. It’s just that I’ve never even heard of Doug Galvin, and all of a sudden you’re marrying him.” She glanced at Doug; his expression betrayed more than a hint of annoyance. Too bad, she thought. Shane had a right to know, didn’t she? This was her grandmother, the person she loved more than anyone else in the world, and the only close family she had left.