by Julie Rowe
“Do you want me to shut up with the war stories?” he asked a few moments later.
“Depends on which ones you’re telling.”
“Not…those.”
She stopped moving, turned and looked at him.
He watched her with quiet, serious eyes. “I haven’t told anyone about the crash. Have you?”
She shook her head.
“Maybe we should. Talk about it, I mean.”
Abby was about to respond, but the door opened and a couple of her next patients walked in. “You got a place to stay?”
“The mayor told me there was a B & B I could stay in.”
“I’ve got a couch you can crash on.”
“Cool, a sleepover party.”
“One other thing, what did you do with my bag of dynamite?”
“I gave it to a concerned citizen.”
“The Sheriff.”
“Yeah, by the way, where did you find that stuff? Those sticks are old.”
“It’s a secret.”
“Abby…”
“What?”
“What’s going on?”
“Physicals, I told you that earlier.”
He stared at her for a moment then shook his head and got up. “I’m going to go on a walk-about around town.”
“You’re leaving me alone? Aren’t you afraid I’ll so something hazardous?”
“I think it’s safe to let you work without me hovering over you. What time do you finish for the day?”
“Five.”
“See you then.” He strolled out the door.
The rest of her morning and afternoon moved along without any snags and she found herself locking up dead on time. Smitty hadn’t appeared, so she walked across the street to the coffee shop.
She put her hand on the knob of the door and noticed a penny on the ground. Maybe this was her lucky day? She bent over to pick it up.
The glass in the window of the door exploded.
Chapter Three
Pain radiated across Abby’s right side, shooting from her head, across her shoulder and down her arm.
She was also looking at the sky, when she should be looking at the inside of the shop.
A worried face appeared abruptly in her line of sight. Smitty.
“Abby, are you all right?”
She frowned. Why wouldn’t she be all right?
People poured out of the shop and onto the street babbling and gesturing wildly, while multiple sirens of police, fire and ambulance vehicles came closer.
Smitty reached out to touch her head, his hand came away covered in blood. “There’s glass in your hair.”
“What? What happened? Is there a fire somewhere?” She glanced down at herself. Glass was everywhere. Blood too. “Where did all this blood come from?”
“Your head, Abby. Your head.”
“Well…” She stared at him. His mouth was pulled down and his eyes had worry wrinkles around them. “That’s not good.”
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “No.”
The smile disappeared as soon as she put her hands on the cement and attempted to push herself up.
“No, no. You’d better stay down there until I can get you cleaned up. Any pain?”
“Yeah, I feel like someone bashed me a good one.”
“No, not bashed,” he glanced at the window. “Did you see anyone throw a rock?”
“No. There wasn’t anyone around that I remember.”
The world spun and her stomach lurched. “Smitty? I think I’m going to be sick.”
He winced. “I’m not surprised.” He helped her to lie on her side and the nausea subsided a little.
Several booted feet approached and surrounded her. The last time she’d seen boots like these was Afghanistan. For a moment her vocal cords seized up and she was back in the wreckage of a dead helicopter. She took a breath and realized she couldn’t smell smoke or dead bodies. It was enough to jerk her brain back across thousands of miles of desert and ocean to Montana. She cleared her throat. “Has Bandit Creek been invaded?”
It took Smitty a second to respond. “No.” He said it so carefully she knew he wasn’t telling the truth.
“The Army or Marines?”
“Fire Department,” he replied in the same careful tone.
“Something’s on fire?”
“No.”
She was going to throttle him if he didn’t start telling her the truth. “What happened?”
A new voice answered. “Someone shot out the window.”
She and Smitty both looked up at the Sheriff who joined the rest of the boots. “I found a bullet hole inside. We’re digging the bullet out now, but I can tell you one thing for certain, it’s not the sort of calibre any of the hunters around here use.”
“Too small, too big, what?” Smitty asked.
“Too big. “ The Sheriff nodded at Abby. “Were you just about to go inside?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you remember what happened?”
“Well, I crossed the street to see what kind of trouble Smitty had gotten into. I was about to entred the coffee shop when I saw a penny on the ground. It’s good luck, you know, so I reached down for it. The next thing I know I’m on the ground wondering how I got there.”
“I’m no crime scene expert, but it looks to me like that penny saved your life. If you had been standing, that bullet probably would have hit the back of your head.”
“Someone shot at me?” She sat up. “I don’t believe it.”
Smitty pushed her back down. “You’re not going anywhere until you’ve been looked at by the paramedics.”
She sat up again. “I’m a doctor, I say I’m fine.”
He pushed her back down. “You’re covered in blood, there’s glass in your hair and someone tried to kill you. You are far from fine.”
She’d seen him in this mood before. He wasn’t going to let up until she allowed him to complete whatever mission he’d just assigned himself. She sighed. “Okay. What do you want to do next?”
He stared at her a moment, then turned and bellowed at the paramedics who’d backed off a few feet. “Can we get some assistance here? She’s obviously in need of medical attention.”
The two paramedics rushed over, put their tackle boxes of medical supplies down and began a standard check of her
“Hey Stan and Mike, how’s it going?” she said.
“Better than you, Doc,” Mike replied looking into her eyes while shining a small, though powerful, light directly into them. “Can you tell me what day this is?”
“Yep, it’s three days since I won a hundred bucks from you in our last poker game.”
He didn’t respond to that, but a blush crept up his neck. “How about your breathing, any trouble?”
“Nope. I’m pretty sure I lost consciousness for a moment or two though. Do I have any lacerations on my scalp?”
“I’m checking that next.”
He leaned over her and began examining her scalp with his gloved fingers. Every second or two he found some glass and tossed it to the side.
“I feel like you’re grooming me like a gorilla.”
“No, ma’am.”
“Ma’am? When did I suddenly become a ma’am? I’ve known you my whole life.”
Mike leaned down a little closer and said softly, “That friend of yours has been giving me a death glare. I thought it was a good idea to keep things on a professional level.”
“Oh for heaven’s sake. Smitty,” she called.
He appeared in her peripheral vision almost immediately. “Everything okay here, Abby?”
“Yeah, but I left my purse in the clinic. Could you grab it for me? It’s in my office in the top drawer of my desk.”
He looked around then said. “I’ll get it later.”
“Smitty, I’m going to be right here for several more minutes while the paramedics do their thing. I’m not going anywhere and I’ll be surrounded by police and medical professionals the en
tire time.”
“You’re playing dirty, doc.”
She waved a hand at him. “Shoo.”
He gave Mike one more evil glare then left.
“Thanks Abby.”
“No problem. That he-man act of his is getting old really fast.”
“If someone is shooting at you, you’d better get used to it,” the Sheriff said, squatting down next to her on the sidewalk.
“Why on earth would someone be shooting at me?”
“Don’t know, but a high calibre bullet came damn close to blowing your brains out. You want to count on luck saving your ass again?”
“This is ridiculous. There’s no reason for anyone to be shooting at me. It’s probably a stray shot from a hunter.”
“In town?”
“Well, what’s your explanation?”
He paused then said with pinched lips. “I don’t have one.”
“Doc, there’s a couple of minor lacerations on your scalp, but nothing you need stitches for,” Mike said. “I think I’ve got all the glass out of your hair, but you might want to have a shower.”
“She lost consciousness for a few seconds, what caused that?” Smitty was back, her purse in his left hand.
“What did you do, run there and back?” she asked him.
He shrugged. “Yeah. So, loss of consciousness?”
“I was only out a second or two. It was probably the shock of such a loud noise right next to my head.” She held out her hand. “Help me up.”
He looked at it, but didn’t make any moves to assist. “Are you sure you should be getting on your feet?”
“I was planning on leaning on you.”
“All right then.” He grabbed her hand and helped her to stand.
The world spun, her vision tunnelled and her hearing narrowed to a single wavelength.
“Easy,” Smitty said from a great distance. “Breath deep.”
After a couple of seconds the world got bigger again. She discovered she was sitting on the ground with her head between her knees. “Great, I passed out didn’t I?”
“Not completely.” His voice was a low rumble next to her ear.
She glanced up. He crouched in front of her, his knees outside hers, his hands rubbing up and down her back and shoulders.
It felt way too comforting. Way too good. She could get used to having him around, taking charge, looking after her. But then she’d be lost when he left.
“I’m in shock. I should go home, rest, shower and eat.”
“Now that is a plan I can get behind.”
She moved to rise, but his hands held her down. “Stay right where you are, doc. I’m going to get my Jeep.”
She sighed. “Okay. I’m sure if I try to get up the Sheriff or Mike will sit on me until you get back.”
“They better not lay a hand on you.” He stomped off.
Abby watched him until he disappeared from view behind the crowd of people milling around outside the police tape. Oh God, it was only a matter of time until her parents descended on her. Then there were her aunts, uncles and assorted cousins. All of them were going to show up at her door to see how she was doing. They’d done it for the first two weeks after she’d returned home from Afghanistan until she finally had had enough and had a hissy fit about it.
She wasn’t going to get any rest today.
She stuck her head back between her knees.
Voices approached, indistinct from the background noise at first, then settling into a conversation between two males she knew all too well.
“…and keep her away from the windows.”
“I know what to do, Sheriff.”
“Do you? I know all you medical people have to go through basic training, but after that…”
“I was part of Doc Abby’s team as security.”
“Security? In the Army?”
“I was a Marine.”
“A Marine?”
“On special detail.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means,” Abby interrupted. “That he’s really, really good at keeping people alive.” She looked at Smitty. “Can we go now?”
“Sure, Doc.” He came forward and offered his hand again.
She took it and he slowly helped her to stand.
“Dizzy?”
“A little.”
“Okay, up you go then.” One arm scooped her up under her knees, the other supported her back.
The first thing she noticed was his smell; woodsy and something distinctly his. The second was his dense musculature. Dense and proportionally symmetrical. Especially his shoulders and arms. Abs too. Probably his thighs as well. But she was so not going to find out.
He headed toward his Jeep and spoke to the Sheriff at the same time. “Feel free to check me out. Call the unit’s commander.”
“I’ll do that.”
“Mind getting the door?”
“Oh, sure.” The Sheriff opened the passenger side door and Smitty gently set her down on the seat. He then put the seat belt on around her.
She chose not to complain. Yet.
He got in the driver’s side and pulled away from the yellow tape. “I’m going to need directions.”
“No problem. Turn left at the next intersection.”
“Nice town.”
“Yep. Very nice. Except for the fact that someone tried to kill me.”
“And the immortal homeless guy.”
“He’s not immortal.”
“Oh?”
“No, he’s just old and well…pickled.”
Smitty snorted. “That I can believe. He reeked of booze. And let’s not forget the town doctor who also likes to fish with dynamite instead of a rod.”
“What can I say, I prefer to pitch rather than catch.”
“You don’t like using a rod?”
“Don’t have much experience with rods.”
The pause following that statement was a little bit pregnant. “Want to borrow mine?”
Chapter Four
“This conversation has taken a dangerous turn,” Abby said. “I’d normally have a witty comeback, but my head hurts too much.”
“Why don’t you tell me why you’re playing with explosives,” Smitty suggested.
“Sure, as soon as you tell me why you’re really here in Bandit Creek.”
“I told you, the town hired me to keep you out of trouble, specifically the kind of trouble one might have if they’ve developed a sudden need to blow things up.”
“I haven’t blown anything up.”
“Yet.”
“Why did the town hire you? How did they even know we knew each other? And take this next right.”
He guided the Jeep around the turn then said, “I called your dad.”
Anger chased the half-amused half-terrified mood right out of her body and brain. “You what?”
“I called--”
“I heard what you said, I just can’t believe you’d be that stupid.”
“Hey, no using the S word.”
“Why did you call my father?”
“Remember the day we landed at the airport in Missoula?”
Her answer was cautious. “Yeah.” She remembered far too much about that day. Hours of airsickness, a moment of terror and the best kiss she’d ever had in her life. With the man sitting next to her.
“Well, so do I.” He stopped talking.
She waited for him to finish, but he remained silent. “It’s the last house on the right.”
He parked the Jeep, turned off the engine, but didn’t otherwise move. Finally he turned his head to regard her with a sombre gaze. “You’re suffering from post traumatic stress. I think blowing shit up is your coping mechanism.”
“I don’t blow shit up. I might scare some of the fish, but I’m not hurting anyone or anything.”
“The law of averages says you will. Eventually you will.”
“Well, Abby’s fourth law says that how cranky a woman is, is inversely proportional to
the amount of food in her stomach.”
“I’ll take that as a hint.” He opened his door then paused. “Wait for me to get you.”
“I’m not an invalid.”
“Just this once, let someone else take care of you.”
She was about argue, when he added, “Please.”
She settled back into her seat and he nodded. He came around the vehicle, opened the door and scooped her out of her seat. He hip-checked the door closed and moved toward the house. “Keys?”
“The backdoor is unlocked.”
“You’re blowing me away with your impressive security system.”
“I’ve got nothing anyone would steal.”
“No electronics, jewellery or cash?”
“My laptop is in a locked closet, I’m not a jewellery person and aside from some pocket change on the side table in my bedroom, my cash is in the bank.”
They got to the backdoor and she twisted around so she could open it. She had to get away from him before she buried her head against his shoulder so she could wallow some more in his smell.
Damn, one whiff and she was an addict.
The inside of her house was cool, the sunlight filtered through the curtains to lay lace over the walls and floor. The furnishings were a comfortable mixture of old and new, some belonged to her grandmother, others were pieces she’d added after moving in.
Smitty stood in the kitchen looking around for a moment. “You want to shower first?”
“Sounds good to me. I want to make sure all the glass is out of my hair.”
“Where is it?”
“You’re not going to put me down, are you?”
He looked down at her and gave her a lazy smile she knew had nothing to do with being lazy. “Nope.”
“Through the doorway and upstairs.”
He climbed the stairs, and after a quick look around, walked into her room and set her down carefully on her feet.
He kept his hands on her shoulders. “You okay?”
“The dizziness seems to have passed.”
“Yeah?”
“You can let me go now.”
“Call me if you need help in the shower.”
“Oh yeah, like I’m going to do that. Nice try buster.”
He squeezed her shoulders. “I’m serious.”
“I’m fine, really. A few minutes under some hot water and I’ll be back to normal.”
