“Hussy,” someone spat as she wheeled her trolley past the bread aisle. Gaby ignored the insult and tossed two loaves of wholegrain bread into the trolley. Maybe she should brand S for scarlet woman on her forehead or shave her hair or something. Honestly, she’d expected a bit of flack from her mother and sister, but this backlash and pettiness—never.
Sighing, she consulted her list and wheeled her trolley to the checkout. The teenage girl on the register stared but at least she didn’t refuse to serve her. She’d suffered that indignity the previous week.
Outside, Gaby wheeled her trolley to the far end of the parking lot, past the bins of rubbish and food scraps waiting for collection by a local farmer. She unloaded the groceries into the car and wheeled her trolley to the collection point. She caught a flash of white from the corner of her eye and glanced up to find four cult members surrounding her. They held a placard each.
“You need to stop working at Fancy Free,” one shouted.
“You’re a fallen woman,” another said. “A bad influence. You should encourage the birth of children.”
“Birth control is bad,” a third hollered, waving her placard.
Gaby’s brows rose. She glanced at the fourth woman. “Do you have anything to add?”
“Yes, don’t you like it’s selfish to keep two men to yourself? One man. One woman!”
“Oh brother.” Gaby rolled her eyes, a surge of anger zapping her. Fletch and Liam belonged to her and she belonged to them. No sharing allowed. “Excuse me.” When the women didn’t move, she pushed between two and tugged open the driver’s door.
The women hoisted their placards and started marching around her car, shouting anti-condom slogans at the top of their voices.
Gaby started up her car and eased off the handbrake but the women stood their ground, blocking her way. Frustrated tears filled her eyes. It had been a hellish day all round. She’d burned her hand on hot latex while she was pouring a sample and the spot still throbbed like hell. She’d suffered through whispers and snubs when she’d ventured to the café for lunch with Alice and now this. She pressed on the horn but the women continued their chanting and obstinately blocked her departure.
She kept inching her car forward and suddenly one of the women fell in front of her vehicle with an ear-piercing shriek. Alarmed, she slammed on the brakes. She switched off the ignition and leaped out of her car. “Is she okay?”
“Call the cops,” one of the cult women shrieked. “She ran my friend down on purpose.”
“Gaby Montgomery. I should’ve guessed,” a mocking feminine voice came from behind her. “Not only do you steal boyfriends but you run down innocent bystanders. Call the cops. I’m a witness. I saw the entire incident.”
“I did not run her down,” Gaby snarled, turning to glare at Rachel. Her eyes narrowed on Rachel’s belly, her brows drawing together in shock. That was an awful big baby bump if her dates were correct and Liam was the father.
A crowd gathered around Gaby and her car. The cult lady continued to screech and moan while her cohorts made enough din to prod the beginnings of her headache into full bloom.
“Stone her. Run her out of town!”
Gaby didn’t see who made the comment, but they were stomping on her last nerve. “Get out of my way so I can leave and get out of your sight. I wouldn’t want to offend you for longer than necessary.”
“You can’t leave the scene of the crime,” a man shouted. “You ran her down.”
A gasp of shock emerged from Gaby. This wasn’t a crime scene, not unless they counted the felony of narrow minds and gossiping old biddies. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”
Without warning, a tomato flew through the air, hitting her square in the chest. On the verge of over-ripeness, the tomato exploded on impact, squirting smelly juice over her black and white dress. Silence descended on the car park until someone snickered, breaking the hush.
“The perfect punishment,” someone cried. “Pelt the scarlet woman with rotten tomatoes.”
Horrified, Gaby tried to climb back inside her car but rough hands halted her escape.
The tomatoes she’d glimpsed earlier pelted her from myriad directions, the crowd roaring for her blood. She spied Rachel and two of her friends chortling in delight then lost sight of them as the crowd closed around her, roaring insults and flinging tomatoes.
Only the whine of a police siren halted the tomato throwing. Slowly, Gaby let her protective hands fall from her face. A tomato hit her face so hard, she saw stars. Clutching her head, she slumped against her car.
The siren ceased. Thank goodness. Gaby concentrated on breathing, wincing when the cult woman started caterwauling again.
“What’s going on here?” Luke’s hard voice stopped the woman short.
The crowd started talking at once.
“She ran over a woman and tried to leave without rendering assistance.”
“She’s a criminal.”
“Arrest that woman.”
Footsteps stalked past her, but Gaby didn’t open her eyes to look up. Instead she concentrated on holding her emotions together. She refused to fall apart and give the crowd the satisfaction of knowing they’d broken her.
A groan came from the front of her vehicle along with a masculine murmur. Another police car arrived and the crowd started to disperse.
“Gaby, you’re bleeding,” Richard Morgan said.
Gaby lifted her head, focusing with difficulty. “It’s rotten tomato. I wouldn’t come any closer if I were you.”
“What happened?”
“The women from the cult surrounded my car when I tried to leave. One fell down.”
“That’s a lie. She ran over my friend. She’s injured her back and can’t move.”
Gaby couldn’t believe these people. The woman was twisting the truth. “I—”
“I insist you charge her with attempted murder,” one of the cult women said.
“Hear! Hear!” another woman agreed.
An ambulance arrived and two medical staff checked the woman before placing her in a stretcher, loading her up and driving away.
Unbelievable. She was positive she hadn’t touched the woman with her car, not that anyone wanted to accept her version of events.
“You’d better come down to the station,” Luke said.
“But—”
“He’s arresting her,” one of the women said.
“About time,” someone else said, satisfaction ringing through her tone.
Stony faced, Gaby glared at Luke. “What about my groceries? There are perishables in there.”
Richard’s expression held concern. “Go with Luke, Gaby. I’ll get one of the constables to drive your car home. Are Fletch and Liam there?”
“Yes.” Gaby squeezed her eyes shut for an instant, fighting the sting of tears. She would not give anyone the satisfaction of crying in public. “Tell them to unpack the groceries. I’ll see them at home.”
Richard frowned. “Don’t you want them to come and collect you?”
“No.” She’d lose her struggle to keep herself together if she let them collect her.
Richard exchanged a glance with his son and gave a curt nod. “I’ll make sure your car and groceries get home.”
Luke took her arm and escorted her to his car. He opened the rear door and waited until she was inside before closing the door. The last humiliation. She sucked in a deep breath and focused on the process. In. Out. As they drove out of the parking lot she caught a glimpse of Rachel standing outside the supermarket building, a toothy smirk on her face and, for the first time in her life, Gaby wanted to commit murder.
Chapter Thirteen
Gaby maintained a stony silence while Luke escorted her through the front entrance of the Sloan police station.
A local farmer was present, making a report about damage to his fences by the local high school students. With exams almost over and Christmas holidays in sight, the students were starting to get up to pranks. The farmer�
��s exasperated voice rose in anger and he started to harangue the constable attending to him.
“In here,” Luke said, directing her into a room with a battered desk and two chairs. “Hell, you stink. My car is never gonna smell the same.”
Hurt sliced through Gaby, sending her a step closer to tears. “Being pelted with tomatoes wasn’t my idea of a fun time.”
“You’re gonna have a black eye,” Luke said, inspecting her more closely.
“Figures.”
“You want to risk a cup of our coffee?”
“Sure. Make it black with one sugar.” Gaby dropped onto one of the available chairs and slumped, holding her head in her hands once Luke departed. Alone, she catalogued her aches and pains. A nagging headache stilled gripped her while her eye and the entire right side of her face throbbed in concert. To top it off, her dress bore big splotches of stinky red tomato juice. Ruined. Even if she could get out the stains, the idea of wearing the dress again, with the associated memories, didn’t seem likely.
“Here you go.” Luke slid a mug across the table toward her.
Grateful for something to concentrate on, she cupped the mug in her hands. The warmth of the chunky china seeped into her hands, doing nothing to dispel the physical lethargy that had crept into her since she’d taken a seat. She was so tired of this, of being unable to appear in public without worrying about the reactions of people she met during the course of her outing. She was sick of the snubs, the catty comments. She was just plain tired.
“Tell me what happened,” Luke said.
“I’ve told you.” Frustration laced her response.
“Tell me again, right from the start.”
With an exasperated sigh, Gaby recapped her visit to the supermarket, leaving not one boring detail out. Luke jotted notes as she spoke. When she’d finished, he leaned back in his chair, tapping his pen against one muscled thigh.
“That’s not what the witnesses I spoke to said.”
“Are you implying I’m a liar?”
Luke straightened, studying her through narrowed eyes. “Of course not. All I’m saying is the eyewitness reports appear to differ from what you’ve told me.”
“Fine,” she gritted out. “Charge me. Lock me up. Do whatever you have to do.”
Someone tapped on the door. “Come in,” Luke said, still studying her closely.
Richard opened the door. “There’s a phone call for you.”
“Can’t it wait?”
“It’s an eyewitness. The supermarket situation.”
Gaby’s mouth twisted. Oh yeah. She’d created a situation all right. Her life was one big situation and, frankly, she couldn’t take much more.
Luke left and Richard joined her in the room. Richard screwed up his nose. “It honks in here. Maybe I’ll leave the door open.”
“I don’t need watching.”
“Of course you don’t,” Richard said, setting his weight on the chair. “Hinekiri liked your sex toy. I think she’s getting Janaya one for Christmas.”
Gaby appreciated his attempt to initiate a normal conversation, not that sex toys were normal. Richard was a good man as was his son Luke. The trouble was the only witnesses were the cult women, and they were lying through their teeth.
Luke arrived back. “Who served you in the supermarket?”
“A young girl. She looked like one of the Proctors.”
Luke nodded. “She said she was on a break after she served you. She went outside to have a cigarette and saw everything. Evidently you didn’t hit the woman with your car. She took a dive.”
Gaby exhaled. “Are you taking her word for it?”
“She had no reason to lie. She also said Rachel was the first to fire a tomato and the rest of the crowd followed suit.”
“Doesn’t surprise me. She’s a bitch.”
“Do you want to press charges?”
“No.”
Luke frowned. “Alice told Janaya you’re getting hassled every time you go out in public.”
“Yeah. It’ll get old soon.”
“I’ll give you a ride home now.” He fished his keys out of his uniform pocket and waited for her to stand before ushering her out. He paused and turned back. “Dad, tell Hinekiri it’s time to do a drive-by. Probably more than one.”
Richard chuckled. “I’ll pass on the message. See you and Janaya for dinner later on. See ya tomorrow at the meeting, Gaby.”
“Sure.”
“We’ll go out the back door,” Luke said.
Gaby hopped in the front this time and wound down the window to get rid of the worst of the smell. “You’ll have to hose out your car.”
“It’s seen worse.”
The ten-minute drive home didn’t take long and soon Luke pulled up outside the house.
“What happens if the cult lady wants to press charges?”
“I’ll speak to the medical staff and obtain a report on her injuries. Along with the witness you should be right.”
“Thanks, Luke. I’m sorry about the stench in your car.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Gaby climbed out of the car and waved him goodbye. When the police car drove from sight, her shoulders slumped. She swallowed, her throat suddenly tight with a lump of emotion. All she wanted was to shower and go to bed, preferably alone.
Fletch and Liam stood in the kitchen, both freshly showered, judging by their damp hair. Liam stirred something on the stovetop while Fletch was busy chopping vegetables.
Fletch sighted her first. He set down his knife with a thump. “Fuck, is that blood? Do you need a doctor?” He strode around the countertop and came to an appalled stop. “What is that smell? What the hell happened to you? I thought you were with Luke.”
“It’s rotten tomatoes.”
“What happened?” Liam asked.
Her throat constricted and the tears she’d managed to hold at bay, swamped her eyes. “The modern version of being stoned,” she said, her voice cracking.
Fletch cursed while Liam went to take her into his arms.
She held up her hands. “No, I’m going to have a shower.”
“Take your time,” Fletch said.
Liam went back to his pot. “Dinner will keep.”
“I’m not hungry.” Her voice caught, a dull, empty sensation gnawing at her. A tear splashed onto the floor at her feet. Now that she’d started crying she couldn’t stop. Gaby turned and fled, unable to hold herself together a moment longer.
“Gaby, wait,” Fletch said.
Liam hauled on his arm, stopping him from following her. “Give her some time. She obviously wants to be alone right now.”
“But what the hell happened? Richard didn’t hint at anything wrong when he dropped off the car. I thought it was strange him bringing the car…” He trailed off at a loss. “What should we do?”
“Give Gaby some time. She’s not sleeping well either. Her tossing and turning kept me awake last night.”
Fletch went back to chopping vegetables but his mind dwelled on Gaby. “I love her. I can’t lose her.” He glanced up to catch an expression of panic on Liam’s face. “I love you too. Goes without saying, numbskull. All I’m saying is Gaby looks at the end of her tether. We need to do something.”
Liam turned off the gas on the element and reached for his cell phone. He hit speed dial. “Luke, it’s Liam.”
Fletch listened in approval as Liam grilled Luke. A few minutes later he hung up. “The cult women caused problems. A crowd gathered and Rachel incited the tomato throwing. Evidently it’s not the first situation in town. Some of the women are being real bitches.”
“Gaby should have told us. We have to stop this. It’s not right.”
“Rachel is at the root of a lot of our problems.”
Fletch cursed. “Her old man isn’t doing such a bad job either.”
“But we’re riding the storm out by working from home. Gaby doesn’t have the same luxury because she works in town and has to face the public mor
e than we do.”
“How do we fix this mess?”
“Time to have this out with Rachel and her father. At the least we need to get them to back off Gaby. They’re not being fair. It’s me they’re pissed at.”
“Tomorrow?”
“It’s a date.”
Fletch chuckled. “I can think of better places to go for a date.”
The water switched off in the bathroom.
“Give her more time,” Liam suggested. “We’ll take her something to eat a bit later.”
* * * * *
She couldn’t stop crying. Tears streamed down her face as she stepped from the shower. A shiver sped down her body, a rash of chill bumps springing to life on her arms and legs. Sniffing, she blotted the water from her hair and wound a towel around her head like a turban. With a second towel, she rubbed her body dry.
Now tomato-free, the fatigue struck her worse than before. A yawn slipped free, her entire body aching. Her head still thumped and the nagging throb at her eye continued unabated. She peered at her eye in the mirror. Already black, it would look even worse tomorrow. She dug through the bathroom cupboard, found a packet of painkillers and took two tablets with a glass of water. After removing the towel around her head, she gingerly combed her hair. She wrapped the other towel around her body and left the bathroom.
The two men were still in the kitchen. She could hear a masculine hum of voices and smell the enticing aroma of cooking spaghetti sauce. Wincing at a nasty jolt of pain at her temple, she shuffled down the passage, hesitating outside Fletch’s bedroom. Gritting her teeth, she kept walking and turned into the bedroom she’d claimed as her own but hadn’t used, except as a dressing room, for weeks. The door shut with a solid clunk after her. She drew the curtains, dropped the towel and crawled between the musty sheets, seeking oblivion in slumber.
Sleep didn’t occur.
She tossed and turned, unable to find a comfortable spot. Pain embraced her skull like a lover, settling in for the duration. And her thoughts… Her thoughts chased round and round like the puppy she’d had as a child. She loved Fletch. She loved Liam.
Christmas Is Coming Page 15
