by B. J Daniels
Flint said nothing. He looked as sick to his stomach as she felt. “I worry about how unstable she is, you know.” Flint met her gaze and stepped to her to hold her in his arms. “I don’t know how far she’ll take it. I don’t think she would purposely hurt you but...”
Maggie swallowed. “I’m sorry, Flint, but I think she is capable of much worse than vandalizing my salon.” She stepped out of his arms to look again at the mayhem that had been done. She hugged herself imagining the mental state of the person who’d done this. “You’ve heard the expression insanely jealous?”
“Move in with me.”
She turned to look at him. “What?”
“Look,” he said as he stepped to her. “We’ve taken things slow. I think it’s time to be reckless.”
She didn’t know what to say.
“Sorry, that wasn’t very romantic.”
Maggie put a hand on his arm. “Romantic was dinner the other night.”
“At the drive-through?” He laughed.
“It was perfect and so was the kiss.”
“Maggie—”
“I’d love to move in with you, but only if it is because you want me there—not because you’re worried about me.”
“I do want you there,” he said drawing her close. “But I’d also feel better having you with me. How soon can you move in?”
* * *
DARBY DESPERATELY WANTED to talk to Mariah alone, but there hadn’t been time once their shift started. The bar got crowded right away and both of them were too busy to do anything more than work.
When things finally began to slow down, it was late. He was thinking he would close early—as soon as a group of college-aged couples left. He could hear Billie Dee and Mariah talking in the kitchen. The last table had said they were through drinking. They were getting ready to leave so Mariah had gone back to the kitchen with some dirty dishes.
Billie Dee should have gone home hours ago. She’d been back there cooking most of the day. He knew she enjoyed visiting with Mariah. As for Mariah, he figured she was hoping to leave without the two of them talking about what had happened last night. Or about the bombshell she’d dropped.
He had decided he would give her the bracelet. If that was all that was keeping her here, then it was time to let her go.
The front door swung open and a man walked in. Darby swore under his breath. He should have turned out the lights on the bar sign. Anxious to close now, he didn’t have the patience to put up with a lone drinker who might want to stay until legal closing time.
With a start, Darby noticed something odd about the man. It was the way the dark-haired man was dressed. He wore brand-new jeans and a T-shirt with black dress shoes. If he was hoping to blend in with the locals, he should have gone with cowboy boots or at least tennis shoes.
The man glanced around as if looking for someone before he moved to the bar. As he took a stool at the end of the bar closest to the door, Darby called, “Sorry, but we’re about to close.”
“I’ll drink fast,” the man said.
He thought about refusing him service. It wasn’t just the way the man was dressed. Something about him... Maybe the man was fine. Maybe he was anxious about the guy because of the attempted robbery. One drink. If the man didn’t leave after that, he’d call Flint.
“Sounds like a deal. What’ll you have?” he asked as he dropped a napkin on the bar. The couples at the last table were putting on their jackets and starting to leave.
“A beer. Whatever you have handy.” The man turned away to look toward the back of the saloon—in the direction of the muted voices.
“How about a Moose Drool?”
The man’s gaze slowly shifted back to him. “Just make it a Bud Light.”
Darby nodded and turned. “I’ll get that for you.” He moved across the saloon and through the door into the kitchen.
“Both of you. Get out of here. Now,” he said to the two women. “Go!”
“What—”
Mariah cut Billie Dee off. “Are we being robbed again?”
We. Surprising how one little word could make his heart soar even at a time like this. He kept his voice down. “There’s a man at the bar. I don’t like the looks of him. I want you both out of here. Mariah—”
Darby stopped because she had looked back toward the bar. All the color drained from her face. She stumbled, colliding with the kitchen table. She grabbed it as if needing the support. Who did she think was sitting in the bar?
Billie Dee was staring at her, as well.
“You should go out the back way,” Darby said as he heard the scrape of a bar stool in the other room. Any minute the man could come back here. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t follow you.”
Her gaze held his for a moment. What he saw in those dark eyes wasn’t just fear. He felt his heart break. She could have run last night and never come back. But she had come back. He touched her arm. “Go to the Creekside Cabins. We passed it the other day after our horseback ride. Remember? I know the owner. Stay there until I come for you. Okay?”
She opened her mouth, but then closed it and nodded.
“I’ll meet you there as soon as I can.” He locked eyes with her. “Wait for me.” He turned quickly and went back into the saloon. The man was headed toward him. “There a problem?” Darby demanded.
The man tried to see past him. “Let’s stop playing games. I’m looking for Mariah Ayers. I know she works here. I know she’s back in the kitchen. If you don’t want any trouble—”
He stepped in front of the man, blocking his way as the man tried to go around him. Darby saw that the college couples had left. “My brother’s the local sheriff. He’s on speed dial. If you don’t want any trouble, you’ll turn around and get out of here.”
At the roar of Mariah’s motorcycle, the man stopped trying to get past him. His steely gaze settled on Darby as she sped away. The man must have realized he’d never be able to catch her. “You have no idea what you’re getting into. I just wanted to talk to Mariah and give her something that belongs to her.”
“What’s that?”
The man was right. He had no idea what he was getting into. But this guy didn’t look or act like a cop. He’d been around his brother enough to know that if the man had any jurisdiction here, he would have already pulled out his credentials.
“I have a package in my car. If you will be so kind as to see that she gets it?” He didn’t wait for Darby to answer. He left.
A few moments later, the man came back in carrying a large box. He set it on the bar.
“I doubt she wants what’s in that box,” Darby said, believing it true.
“Well, it’s hers and my employer wants her to have it.”
“Who’s your employer?”
The man didn’t answer as he reached into his jacket pocket and took out a business card. He laid it on the bar. “Tell her to call me. It is the only way. It will save her and you a lot of...trouble.”
* * *
DARBY CALLED HIS friend at Creekside Cabins and told him to give Mariah a cabin. He’d pay for it later. He waited until the man drove away in the opposite direction Mariah had gone before he locked the door, walked to the bar and finally looked at the business card. Albert Finch, Private Investigator.
He glanced at the large box. The flaps had been turned under—not taped. Whatever was inside...
Picking up the box, he carried it back to the kitchen. To his surprise, Billie Dee hadn’t left.
“Everything all right?” she asked.
He figured she’d been listening, waiting to see if she needed to call the sheriff or not. He set the box on the table. “The man left this for Mariah.”
She nodded, wiped her hands on her apron and walked over to look at the box. “You’re going to open it,
aren’t you?”
“He left it for Mariah.”
“Exactly. The same Mariah who just hightailed it out the back door. Somethin’ tells me whatever is in that box isn’t somethin’ she’s goin’ to want to see or she would have hung around.”
He hadn’t thought that there might be anything dangerous in the box. Now he eyed it warily. It hadn’t felt heavy enough for it to contain explosives. It seemed too large. Also wouldn’t it have been all taped up if there was a bomb inside?
“You know you’re going to look inside,” Billie Dee said. “You don’t want to take it to her if there is something...awful inside it.”
Whatever the reason for the PI’s visit, it had set Mariah on the run again. The PI had found her. He’d brought this box for her. He’d also known that his appearance would probably scare her off. So what were the chances that Mariah would want whatever was in this box?
He told himself he could be dead wrong. It could be a gift. Or maybe not. At least there might be some sort of explanation in the box. A letter or note. Some insight into who Mariah Ayers was and why she’d looked so scared when she’d lit out of here. Why she was on the run. Why she was married but apparently had never made love. Was there something important in the box that he should know about before he met her at Creekside Cabins?
He glanced at Billie Dee and then reached for the box. Opening it was as easy as lifting one of the flaps.
The contents seemed to explode as if they’d been stuffed into the box.
“What in the world?” he heard Billie Dee exclaim as she jumped back.
He stared at all the white, the gleam of rhinestones, thousands sewn onto the fabric. The dress tumbled out across the table, yards of lace and silk and bejeweled bodice and sleeves.
“It’s a wedding dress,” Billie Dee cried as he spread it out, the voluptuous fabric billowing.
The cook gasped at the same time Darby saw it. Billie Dee’s hand went over her mouth. She took a step back and then crossed herself.
“Tell me that’s not blood,” Billie Dee said.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
DARBY STARED AT the wedding dress, his heart pounding.
“You realize she’s probably long gone,” the cook said sounding sad about that. “Whatever that’s all about...” She waved toward the bloody, torn wedding dress. “I’m betting she won’t hang around to explain it.”
Darby hoped she was wrong. Either way, he knew what he had to do. “I have to go.”
“You taking that...dress?”
He shook his head as he quickly moved to it. Stuffing it back into the box wasn’t easy. He ran it up to his apartment and shoved it into the back of the closet. He’d deal with it later.
Back downstairs, he hurried out the door into the darkness. From his pickup, he took out his flashlight and headed for the trees. It didn’t take him long to find the tree deep in the pines.
The hole was dark. He shone his light into it and then reached inside. His fingers found the package he’d hidden there. His hand closed around the wrapping with the heavy gold bracelet inside.
He had thought of the bracelet as not just a way of keeping her here, but a bargaining tool to find out more about her. From the moment he saw her, he’d been fascinated by the woman.
These weeks working together had only made him more intrigued by her. She was still a mystery he had yet to unravel. All he knew was that he couldn’t keep the bracelet from her any longer. If that was all she was waiting for...
Shoving the package into his jacket pocket, he ran to his pickup. He couldn’t let her leave without the bracelet. He’d been wrong to keep it. Wrong to keep her here. He feared he’d jeopardized her by doing so. If he got her hurt or worse...
That thought rattled him as he remembered the bloody, torn wedding dress. Was it a warning? Or a threat? Either way, the PI had found her. Which meant the person chasing her had also found her.
He knew she was running scared. He’d seen the look in her eyes. She’d been terrified that she’d been found. And after the attempted robbery, he knew firsthand what it took to scare Mariah.
The night was unusually dark. Low clouds obscured the mountains surrounding the town. Darby took the back way to the cabins because it was shorter. To his relief, he saw her motorcycle sitting out back behind the last cabin. He parked next to her bike and got out. Before he could knock, the door flew open. She was holding a gun. He had suspected she carried one in her backpack. Now he knew.
She quickly lowered the weapon as she recognized him. “Darby—”
He stepped past her into the cabin. Behind him, he heard her close the door and lock it. When he turned, he looked into her dark eyes and felt a piece of his heart break and drop like a stone. This was it. Once he gave her back the bracelet...
“I couldn’t let you leave without this.” He reached into his pocket and drew out the package. “It’s your bracelet.”
Her gaze went from the bundle in his hand to his face. Tears welled in her dark eyes. “Darby, I—”
“I’m sorry I didn’t give it to you sooner.” He held it out.
“Why didn’t you?” she asked. She still hadn’t reached for the bracelet.
He knew what she was asking. “I didn’t want you to leave. Also I wanted to know more about you and thought you wouldn’t tell me unless I had something to bargain with.”
She smiled ruefully and he felt his heart ache. “But now you’re willing to give it back to me, no strings attached.”
“Yes.” Unwrapping the bracelet, he took her hand and pressed the bracelet into it. “For luck.”
She touched the gold filigree lovingly and then with trembling fingers, slipped on the bracelet.
He felt a sharp stab of guilt for keeping it from her. But he wasn’t sorry he’d wound up with it. Otherwise, he would have had only those few seconds at the Chokecherry Festival and still the memory would have haunted him for years.
Whether she believed in Roma curses on not, she’d put one on him. Not only would he never forget her, he would spend the rest of his life comparing other women to her. In the end, no woman could ever make him feel the way he did right now.
“Here,” he said. “Let me.” She’d been fumbling with the clasp. He fastened the bracelet on her wrist. It fit like a second skin. His fingers brushed hers, sending sparks racing through him. Her gaze leaped to his as he finished latching the bracelet in place.
“I owe you an explanation.”
He shook his head. “No strings, remember?”
* * *
MARIAH FELT HER heart break. Why couldn’t she have met Darby in another life? She shook her head at the thought. She’d been born into this one, this life full of customs and culture, this life ruled by Roma law and family.
“I can’t leave without telling you the truth about me.”
“Or you could stay. Quit running. Let me help you.”
She smiled even though it hurt to do so. “I can’t stay. I would be jeopardizing you, your sister, your whole family.”
“We’re a pretty strong family and we pull together when things get rough. Whatever you’re running from—”
“Darby, I told you—I’m... I’m married.”
He nodded. “So you said. But I gathered from the wedding dress that the private investigator left for you back at the saloon that the marriage didn’t go well.”
Rafael had sent her wedding dress? She closed her eyes and turned away, shame and humiliation making her face burn. “I never wanted you to know any of this.”
She heard him behind her, felt his hand on her shoulder. He turned her around to face him. “Where is your husband?”
“I have no idea. He could be anywhere. Even on his way to Montana.” And that alone should have terrified her enough to make her run as far as sh
e could get from this place. From this man who she’d come to care for too deeply.
“He’s what you’re running from?”
She nodded, tears burning her eyes.
“Mariah?” He touched her arm above the bracelet. “You have to let me help you. Running isn’t the answer. He’ll eventually find you and then what? Talk to me.”
She looked into his handsome face. She should have left this cowboy alone. Now she’d involved him in her trouble. Even if she left tonight and kept going, she’d already jeopardized him and his family. The private investigator who’d left the wedding dress would tell Rafael that she’d been working at the bar. Worse, that Darby had helped her get away.
“You don’t understand how dangerous my husband is. I can’t stay. If he finds me here, finds me with you...”
“I don’t understand,” he said. “Why run? You can get a divorce—”
She shook her head. “It isn’t that simple.”
“Clearly, or you wouldn’t be running for your life,” he said. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I wish you would.”
She nodded slowly. She owed him at least this.
He took off his hat and coat, lowered himself onto the edge of the double bed.
Mariah swallowed the lump in her throat and sat down beside him. “It’s all very complicated, bound up in years of culture, years of my ancestors being persecuted. It’s why my people don’t assimilate. There are more than a million of us living in this country, but few people know about us. We keep to ourselves. The elders believe it is the only way to retain the Roma culture.”
“Your husband is...Roma? Surely if you don’t want to be married to him—”
“In our culture, the husband rules the home. The wife submits to his rules. Her job is to take care of him and their children when they have them. She isn’t allowed to work outside the home. Actually, the couple usually lives with his parents and the mother-in-law trains the wife until at least the first child is born, often longer.”
Darby shook his head. “I’m sorry but, Mariah, I can’t see you living like that. Why would you have agreed to this? Surely your culture doesn’t force you to marry a man who would hurt you.”
