He got out of the car and jogged over to the single-car garage he and his grandpa had painted dark green to match the trim on the house. Bending low, he turned the combination lock until it clicked open in his hand, then shoved the rolling door upward. After returning to the car, he drove into the garage and turned off the engine.
“Back when my grandparents were alive, this building housed my grandpa’s workshop, along with storage for all my grandma’s canned goods. She had quite a garden. I especially loved her pickles.”
“We have that in common,” Riley said softly. “Grandparents who liked to grow their own food.” She opened the door and stepped out onto the concrete pad. Stormy scrambled over the center console and jumped out behind her, nails clicking as she explored her surroundings.
“I suppose we do. Damn, I hope there’s a flashlight somewhere around here. I can’t see squat, and the generator is in a shed next to the house.”
“There’s one under the driver’s seat.” She let out a frustrated breath. “Okay, I give up. I wonder how I knew that, but not where I left my car parked before I was kidnapped, or what my house looked like.”
“The mind is a complicated mystery.” He reached into the car, pulled out the flashlight, and turned it on. “Now we’re in business.”
An hour later, the generator was powered up, and a fire was roaring in the woodstove. He’d brought in their luggage, and they were dining on chicken noodle soup nearing its expiration date and stale crackers.
“I’ll go to the store tomorrow, but not in Winter Harbor since everyone within a ten-mile radius would hear about my presence in town before I finished shopping. When I’m planning to be here for an extended visit, I usually have the house cleaned and the power turned on ahead of time. Considering the circumstances, it’s better to keep a low profile, so I’m afraid we’ll have to make do with the generator.”
Riley tucked her stocking clad feet beneath Stormy and blew on a spoonful of soup. “I’m not adverse to roughing it.”
“That’s the spirit. Only problem is, the woodstove won’t heat the upstairs. I’ll drag down a couple of mattresses, and we can camp out in front of the fire.”
She grinned at him through the steam rising off her soup. “That actually sounds fun. I used to go camping—” She broke off, and her smile faded. “I can picture a much younger version of myself sitting in a canvas chair, roasting a marshmallow over glowing coals. Sparks from the bonfire were shooting up into the night sky, and I was trying not to incinerate the marshmallow. I remember the scene so clearly, my total focus on turning that gooey blob golden brown rather than black, but I’ve no clue where I was or who I was with.”
“Give it time. You can’t force the recovery process.”
“I know it hasn’t even been two weeks since that creep knocked me over the head. My knee feels better, and my bruises are fading. But the most significant injury—the one to my brain—isn’t healing.”
“Yes, it is. Just not as quickly as you’d like.” Noah finished his soup and put another log into the stove before checking his watch. “It’s nearly ten, and I’m sure you’re tired. I’ll go get those mattresses.”
Riley set her empty bowl down on the coffee table. “Can I help?”
“It’ll probably be easier for me to wrestle the mattresses down the stairs on my own, but you can come up and get a stack of blankets out of the linen closet.”
“Sure.” She rose to her feet, stepped over the dog, and carried their bowls to the kitchen sink before following him up the creaking staircase.
“Blankets are stored in that cupboard.” He pointed to a tall narrow door at the end of the hall. “Get several since the house will feel like an ice cave if we let the fire go out. Not that I don’t plan to stoke it periodically throughout the night.”
“Just in case, I’m glad I brought a pair of warm sweats instead of a nightgown to sleep in.”
Noah paused as she brushed past him and closed his eyes. His imagination working overtime, he pictured Riley wearing something silky and see-through instead of thick cotton.
Don’t be an ass.
Shaking off the mental image, he entered the room he’d shared with his older brother whenever they’d visited their grandparents as kids. Built in bunks took up most of the wall space on either side of the door. Moonlight shone through the window that looked out over the cove. Noah didn’t need the faint light to know the huge collection of newspaper clippings, yellowed with age, was still tacked to the pegboard above the righthand bunk. His grandma had saved every article written about Garth’s athletic successes in football and baseball throughout his high school career. To be fair, she’d also posted mentions of Noah’s academic achievements, but she’d passed away long before there was much to brag about.
He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t taken down the clippings. Maybe for the same reason people poked at a sore tooth, hoping the next time they touched it, the pain would be gone. It wasn’t. Knowing the big brother he’d idolized wasn’t the hero everyone had been led to believe still hurt.
“You’re sure you don’t need help?”
He spun around as Riley stopped in the doorway with an armload of blankets and pillows.
“No, I was just . . . The mattresses are twins, so I can manage them easily enough.” Happy to have something to distract him from old memories, he lifted the thin mattress off the bunk on his side and hauled it down the stairs.
By the time he reached the main room, Riley had pushed the coffee table out of the way. He dropped the mattress on the wool rug in front of the woodstove and gave her a smile. “I’ll be right back.” A few minutes later, he returned with the second mattress and laid it a respectable distance from the first one. At least he hoped a yard was plenty of space between them.
She’d already spread a couple of blankets, an afghan from the couch, and a quilt over the first bed. Once he moved out of the way, she unfurled a plaid fleece blanket to cover the second mattress, then piled on a few more layers.
“There. That should keep us warm.”
“Definitely. Uh, you can use the bathroom down here to change. I’ll go take a look around outside and turn off the generator.”
Riley nodded. “Do you mind taking Stormy out with you?”
The dog raised her head from her prone position on the couch and wagged her stumpy tail a couple of times.
“I don’t mind at all.” Noah retrieved the flashlight from the kitchen counter where he’d left it and headed toward the back door. “Let’s go, Stormy.”
The dog jumped down and followed him willingly enough. Noah grabbed a heavy denim work jacket that had belonged to his grandpa off the peg beside the kitchen door and shrugged it on as he headed into the frigid night air. Overhead, stars filled the sky, and the moon rode low out over the bay. The sound of waves lapping on the rocky shore behind the house brought back everything good he remembered from his childhood. Long days of playing in the water and fishing with his grandpa.
He’d been able to relax here and simply be a kid, knowing his grandparents were happy to have him around. At home in Brooklyn, he’d always been the afterthought, dragged along to Garth’s games and Portia’s ballet recitals. He’d grown up in daycare with two parents struggling to make a living in their blue-collar neighborhood, who certainly hadn’t planned on having a third child in their forties.
Other than the hum of the generator, the night was still. Stormy sniffed a few bushes where a frozen crust of snow remained beneath the branches before squatting to pee. After strolling around the yard, Noah called the dog and headed toward the shed. Hopefully Riley would be in bed by now. He flipped the switch, and the engine cut off with a sputter.
Noah was nearing the kitchen door when footsteps crunched the gravel drive in front of the house. Male voices followed, along with an outburst of youthful laughter. When Stormy growled low in her throat, Noah laid a hand on the dog’s head and turned off his flashlight. A minute later, three figures, lights bobbing, cut acro
ss the edge of the yard before scrambling over the rocks at the shoreline until the group reached a flat boulder. The distinctive click and hiss of cans being opened mingled with low conversation.
Noah opened the back door, which creaked slightly, and followed the dog inside before he shut and locked it then hung the jacket on its peg. Making his way in the dark, he only smacked into one doorframe and a dining room chair before reaching the bathroom. After brushing his teeth, he walked cautiously toward the living room.
“You can use the light. I’m not asleep.”
With his hands out front, he touched a raised bump that he assumed was Riley’s leg. “Sorry.” Moving around her, he dropped down onto the other mattress. “There’s a group of high school boys partying down by the water. I’d rather no one knew we’re here. Luckily, I turned the generator off before they arrived.”
“Shouldn’t they be home studying or sleeping on a school night?”
“You would think.” He toed off his sneakers and then unzipped his jeans before chucking them on the floor. “But that was you and me, the studious ones. We weren’t the cool kids.” He unbuttoned his shirt and dropped it on the pile. “At least I wasn’t. I remember my brother sneaking out of the house plenty of times when he was in high school.”
“I don’t think I went out much, either.” Her covers rustled as she shifted on the mattress. “Maybe I’m wrong, but I feel like I wasn’t a partier.”
“You’re getting a sense of who you are, and that’s not so different from who you were when you were younger.” Wearing only his briefs, he knelt in front of the woodstove and added another log to the glowing coals, then shut down the damper most of the way. “That should burn for quite a few hours.”
At the end of Riley’s mattress, Stormy sat up and scratched vigorously behind one ear before settling down with a thump and a sigh.
Noah thought about going in search of his overnight bag, which he’d left . . . somewhere, for more to wear and dismissed the idea. The room was plenty warm. Instead, he crawled into the nest of blankets on his bed, wishing he could swap places with the dog.
“Did you inherit this house after your grandparents died?” Riley’s tone was soft and low, wrapping around his senses.
“My mom did. When she and my dad decided to sell it a couple of years ago, I convinced them to transfer the title to me. The thought of this place leaving the family bothered me, probably more than it should have. I guess I’m sentimental that way.” He tucked his hands beneath his head, elbows splayed. “I should have the house paid off in the next ten years.”
“I think your decision shows a lot about your character.” After a moment, she spoke again. “Did your antique truck come with the property?”
“Grandpa deeded it to me in his will. He was ninety-two when he died, and I’d just turned sixteen. We’d worked on restoring the truck that summer, so he knew how much it meant to me. I’ve driven it ever since.”
“That’s really cool, Noah. God, I hope I get those kinds of special memories back. They’re the ones that matter most.”
“I’d say saving mankind from the ravages of dementia ranks right up there in importance.”
“If that’s what I actually accomplished.”
“Someone at Vortex certainly thinks you made a consequential discovery. Also, your grandfather is doing much better. I doubt that’s a coincidence.”
“His cognitive function has improved, but there are still a lot of gaps.”
Wood popped in the stove in a mini explosion as the fire cast a faint glow to illuminate the room. Stormy rolled over onto her back and stuck all four feet up in the air.
Not ready to delve into a discussion of her less than orthodox treatment of her grandfather, Noah pointed toward the dark outline of the dog against the glow of the fire. “She seems to have adapted well.”
“Surprisingly, she’s very trusting. Whatever happened in her past, I don’t think she was abused.” Riley turned on her side to face him. “Thanksgiving is only a few weeks away. Do you plan to spend it with your family?”
“No.” He spoke sharply and then tried to soften the abrupt response. “Until whoever’s after you is behind bars, I’m not going anywhere.”
“That sucks. I’d hate for you to miss out—”
“We’re not exactly close. Portia is busy with her career in Paris and rarely comes back to the states. My parents have a large group of friends in their retirement community and an active social life. They’re happy, and I’m happy for them.”
“What about your brother?”
“We don’t really talk.”
He didn’t say anything further. Forgiving Garth for panicking and not going into the South Tower would have been easy. But Noah couldn’t stomach the fact that his brother had accepted all the praise and accolades afterward, letting everyone believe he’d been a hero. If his alcohol addiction was any indication, Garth’s conscience had been bothering him for years. Still, he hadn’t admitted the truth—at least not when he was sober.
“Are you okay?”
“Huh?” He snapped out of his reverie. “Sure. Uh, I was just wondering how long we can stay here with no one the wiser. The locals will figure it out soon enough.” He rolled over and gave his pillow a punch. “I’ll get in touch with Wolf tomorrow to see if the police have made any progress finding your attacker.”
“Why do I think your mind was somewhere else entirely? That you came up with that explanation on the fly?”
“Because you’re smart and intuitive, but I prefer not to talk about it. No offense. I simply—”
“None taken. However, if you do want to unload, I’m happy to listen. You’ve certainly listened to enough of my woes.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
The silence stretched between them. Noah had decided she must have fallen asleep and was beginning to doze off when her words jolted him into full wakefulness.
“You’re very noble. Do you always do what you think is right instead of what you want?”
“I’m not sure I follow you.”
“You crawled into your bed over there, all alone, without even asking if I was interested or willing. After that kiss we shared, I expected something more.”
He tensed as his whole body heated. “I didn’t want to pressure you.”
“I’m a big girl, and I know how to say no. I also know how to say yes.” She sat up on her mattress, the faint light from the fire outlining her figure in the dark. “Do you like me as a person, or am I just someone you feel responsible for?”
“Of course I like you. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be here right now. I don’t get tangled up with every victim we save.”
“I didn’t think you were that noble. I like you, too, Noah. You’re kind and considerate and interesting. But you’re also very handsome, and when I look at you I—” She stopped speaking. “Are you seriously going to make me keep talking?”
“My head was getting so swelled from the compliments, I couldn’t open my mouth.” In one swift move, he reached across the space separating them and pulled her over onto his mattress. “Stormy can have that one to herself.”
“Good idea.”
“Don’t think this isn’t what I wanted. Leaving you alone has been killing me.” He wrapped one arm around her waist, tugging her in tight against his chest before bending to kiss her. Her lips opened beneath his, and he put all the need bottled up inside him into the kiss. Finally, he pulled back a few inches and drew air into his starved lungs.
“All righty then.” She giggled helplessly and pressed her nose against the pulse beating at his throat. “I guess you aren’t completely immune.”
“Not by a long shot. But I didn’t want to—”
“Push. Yeah, I know. All those noble instincts.”
“I’ve always been a black or white type of guy without a lot of gray shades in the middle. Under the circumstances, I didn’t feel right about hitting on you.”
“So, you forced me to become t
he aggressor.” She ran her hands up and down his bare back. “You aren’t wearing much.”
“Thinking about you lying a yard away was keeping me plenty warm.” His searching fingers encountered another layer of cloth beneath her sweatshirt. “What the heck are you wearing?”
“Too much, apparently, but I didn’t want to be cold.” She stretched out against him. “I’m pretty sure I won’t be.”
“No danger of that.” He cupped the side of her face in his hand and kissed her again. Taking his time, he tasted every crevice of her mouth until he was so worked up he couldn’t think straight.
She pushed against him, breaking the contact, and sat up.
“I’m sorry. Did I—shit.” He closed his eyes and let out a breath. “I don’t have any protection.”
“It’s okay. I’m on the pill.” She leaned back down to kiss him. “However, if I don’t get some of these clothes off, I’m going to melt.”
When she struggled to pull the sweatshirt over her head, he grabbed the hem and tugged upward. Once her head was free, she threw the shirt she was wearing beneath it on the floor, and then squirmed to remove a pair of fleece pants. By the time she’d gotten rid of all the layers, he’d managed to tug off his own briefs with shaking hands.
“Much better.” She slid back in under the covers and cuddled close. “Do you know how nervous I was, planning that whole speech? Then I forgot half of what I was going to say.”
“Now I feel like an ass for not hitting on you.”
“You kind of were.” She softly stroked his cheek with her thumb. “Look, those freaks messed me up, but they didn’t break me. I intend to pull my life together, and you don’t have to treat me like a fragile piece of china.”
“You’re incredible. I hope you know that.” He rolled her beneath him, shaking with need for this woman. “Right now, I can’t begin to express how much I want you.”
“Then what are you waiting for?”
Chapter Ten
Riley woke slowly, wrapped in a cocoon of blankets. When metal scraped against metal, followed by a solid thunk, she opened her eyes. The room was dimly lit by the incipient dawn, providing just enough light to see the man crouched in front of the woodstove. Beautifully naked, he rose to his feet and turned around. Noah was lean and muscular with chiseled abs and rock-hard thighs, but she found his strength of character more attractive than any of his more obvious assets.
Lethal Memory (A Counterstrike Novel Book 2) Page 11
