A Stranger on Her Doorstep

by Julie Miller

  But Ava saw the real danger. The gun she’d taken off him was clutched in his very capable hand, pointed at her.

  She glanced from the barrel of the Springfield Hellcat to the glove compartment and back to those fascinating eyes, which narrowed but never blinked.

  “Yeah. I found where you stashed it. I’ve got the cartridges for that shotgun in my pocket, too.” Ava’s grip pulsed around the steering wheel. She felt light-headed. Sick to her stomach. This couldn’t be happening to her. Again. “When the light changes, drive.”

  Chapter Five

  Every muscle in Larkin’s body ached. His brain felt like it was in a fog from whatever the doctor had given him for the pain. His bum leg was screaming at him to untuck from this awkward position, squeezed out of sight between the dashboard and the dragon-size dog. He could feel the chill of his zipper pressed against parts of his body that didn’t like to be touched by anything cold. And he felt like a son of a bitch for doing this to Ava.

  He’d seen the flare of fear in her eyes when she’d spotted the gun he’d retrieved during this impromptu escape. Even without the weapon, he would have found a way to commandeer her truck and get away from that hospital. His brain might not be running on all cylinders, but his gut was telling him that he wasn’t safe there. Her knuckles were white where she gripped the steering wheel, but her jaw was set like stone, and her delicate nostrils flared with every breath. That was anger, not fear. She was probably already plotting his demise, or at least a way to escape. Anger was healthy. He could deal with her being angry at him.

  He couldn’t deal with being at the mercy of someone knowing more about what had happened to him than he did—and having no clue who his enemy might be. Ava Wallace and her dragon dog were the only safe haven he believed in right now.

  Ava’s gaze shifted down to the corner of the truck where he crouched. “You’re not coming with me.”

  “Don’t look at me,” he ordered, making her gaze snap back to the intersection. Her right hand came off the steering wheel to stroke Maxie’s coat. That was a coping mechanism he’d seen her use several times today. Well, he was coping the best way he knew how under circumstances he didn’t fully understand, too. “Don’t let anyone see I’m in here with you. Don’t do anything to signal other drivers. You’re not in any danger unless you give me up.” The glow of the traffic light that tinted the dog’s white fur through the windshield changed from red to green. “Drive.”

  Her foot didn’t move off the brake. “Where am I taking you?”

  “Your place.”

  “No.” She had both hands back on the steering wheel.

  More teddy bear than dragon, Maxie stretched out across the seat, resting her snout on her big paws, close enough to him that she could sniff his face and shoulder without lifting her head. Couldn’t Ava see that the dog she trusted so well thought he was okay? Shouldn’t that reassure her? “Turn the corner. Go.”

  Only when bright lights flooded the cab of the truck from the road behind them, indicating they were no longer alone at the intersection, did she flip on her signal and make a left turn. The truck’s powerful engine hummed as they picked up speed, merging onto the state highway that zigzagged up the side of the mountain toward her cabin. “You know, I could drive you out to the wilderness and leave you stranded in the middle of nowhere.”

  “I don’t think you will. Gun aside, you’re a woman with a heart. Or a conscience at least. You don’t want me to get hurt.”

  “Now who creates fiction?”

  While he appreciated her sharp wit, this wasn’t the time for playful banter. “Did I read things wrong at the hospital?” The sling he wore made it difficult to push himself into a more comfortable position or avoid the dog’s curious nose. It had also made it impossible to load the gun he held on Ava. If he’d had a few more seconds before retrieving the weapon and diving under the tarp in the back of her truck, and the challenge of focusing on completing the task in a moving truck hadn’t made his head spin to the point of nausea, then he’d be posing a real threat. But Ava didn’t need to know the magazine of bullets was tucked into his back pocket. He hadn’t wanted to put her in that kind of danger, anyway. Not when he’d sensed an ally in her. “I thought you were helping me when you sent your sheriff friend home after the doctor and nurse were called away.”

  “I wasn’t aiding and abetting a criminal. I felt sorry for you, thought you needed to rest. I regret that now.” He felt the truck slow as they rounded a curve, then pick up speed on a straightaway.

  Since he hadn’t seen any lights coming through the windows for several minutes now, and their steady climb told him they were headed in the right direction, Larkin moved the gun to the hand at the end of the sling. He used his good arm to nudge the dog up into a sit and push himself onto the seat beside her because his knee couldn’t take another second in that cramped position. He allowed himself a couple of deep breaths to let the pain in his battered body dissipate before he buckled himself in. Visually assured that she was driving toward her cabin, he tugged at the strangling neckline of the hospital gown he’d hastily tucked into his jeans, and patted his flat belly to confirm the presence of the medical printout he’d stuffed inside the gown. His left hand was strong enough to maintain control of the gun, although it was no longer pointed at her. “Look, all I’m asking for is a few days of refuge. Your place is isolated, yet you’ve got good sight lines to see anything coming up the road or out of the woods.”

  “It’s my refuge, not yours. If you didn’t have that gun, I’d be dumping you out on the side of the road.”

  He lightly touched the side of his head. “There’s something...wrong in here. I didn’t get shot by accident. I need someplace safe to stay while I get my head on straight. I need time to figure out who shot me. I have a feeling he’s coming after me to finish the job, and I don’t know who to look for.”

  Ava shook her head, stirring the long ponytail over her shoulder. “I don’t do company. I’m the town recluse. The weird lady with the dog. Ask anyone. I keep to myself.”

  “The sheriff doesn’t know that. He was all over you, and you didn’t like it.” Her head swiveled toward him, her reaction confirming his suspicions about that relationship. He pointed her attention back to the road as they neared another curve. “You told me not to grab you. I thought it was because I was a stranger. But you’ve told Sheriff Touchy-Feely that before, haven’t you? He doesn’t listen.”

  Her grip tightened, eased, then tightened again. Was she upset because he’d struck a nerve? Or was she plotting an escape? Although Maxie seemed like a gentle giant, was it possible she could order the dog to attack him? Sic the dog on him. Skid to a stop. Shove him out the door and drive away. It was a plan he might try if their situations were reversed and he had what he thought was an armed stranger in his vehicle.

  “Brandon is a friend from childhood. We reconnected when I moved back to Pole Axe. He wants to be something more. I’m not interested.” So, not hatching a get-rid-of-Larkin plan. But one more reason to back up the instinctive distrust he’d felt toward the sheriff after seeing his actions and eavesdropping on his conversation with Ava and the doctor. “If you’re in danger, you can’t get much safer than a hospital. You should have stayed there.”

  He watched another mile marker reflect in the headlights and pass by in the darkness of the night and thick trees rising above the drop-off at the edge of the road. The sense of unease he felt watching the pine trees and guardrail meant something. But he wasn’t sure what his subconscious was trying to tell him about this drive any more than he could pinpoint the alarm he’d felt at the hospital. “I felt exposed there. In more ways than one. I had a feeling your sheriff wouldn’t listen to what I had to say, either. He thinks I’m responsible for setting that fire at the junkyard.”

  “Are you?” He started to answer, but she already knew his response. “You don’t remember.”
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br />   “The answers are here, Ava, I know it. I need time to figure them out.” He seized upon the most likely explanation for the bond he felt toward the frightened, angry woman sitting across from him. “You and Maxie are the only people I know here.”

  “Maxie’s a dog.”

  He looked into the Pyrenees’s soulful dark eyes. “I noticed.”

  “Earlier, you called her a dragon.”

  “See? I can tell the difference now. I’m better already, just being with the two of you.”

  “You’re better because Dr. Russell took care of your injuries.” He hunkered down behind the dog as they passed an oncoming vehicle. “I don’t even know what to call you.”

  He thought of the key chain engraved with an L.B. tucked into his pocket. “Larkin Bonecrusher will do for now.”

  “I will not be your Willow Storm.”

  He pushed himself up straighter as they passed through the darkness again. “No. You’re Ava Wallace. You saved my life, so that makes you the closest thing I have to a friend in this town.”

  “I am not your friend, and I’m not going to be your nursemaid. I’ll stop at the next turnaround and call the sheriff.”

  “Empty threat.” He understood that he had a knack for reading people—everyone, that is, but himself. “You don’t want to ask that guy for any favors. Whatever he wants from you, it’s not mutual, and you’re worried that engaging him will send him the wrong message.” He tilted his head back to look around Maxie’s shoulders. “Or is it that you don’t want any man touching you?”

  “Now you’re some kind of psychic?”

  “My eyes work fine. I know what I saw when he hugged you.” He scuffed his palm along the dog’s muzzle and scratched beneath her ears. “It took Maximillia here to push him away.”

  “You and your eyes.”

  Although he wasn’t sure what she meant by that, the dog hadn’t been the only one to recognize the flare of panic she’d had when the sheriff had wound his beefy arms around Ava and hugged her tight. “Am I wrong about the sheriff? Hell, if I could have gotten up, I would have stopped him myself.”

  The nostrils weren’t flaring anymore. Her fingers weren’t pulsing around the wheel. He was right about the sheriff stomping all over her comfort zone. He prayed that, in his desperate need, he hadn’t done the same. “Ava, please. Someone’s trying to kill me. I don’t know who. I don’t know why. But I know you’re not my enemy.”

  “How can you be sure?” Her chin pointed up with a stubborn resistance that was more than bravado and unexpectedly sexy. “Maybe I’m the one who shot you.”

  He couldn’t help but smile in admiration of her strength. He tilted his head toward the shotgun anchored in her back window. “You favor that Browning stackbarrel, not a 9 mil.” He tamped down on the ill-timed attraction he felt. If she wasn’t interested in an old friend with a badge, she wasn’t going to be interested in a stranger who’d brought a ton of trouble right to her front door. “You’re the only person I’m certain isn’t the bad guy. You could have shot me and dumped me out in the boonies, and no one would have been the wiser. Hell, I was unconscious on your front porch—you could have smothered me with a pillow. If you wanted me dead, I’d be dead. You wouldn’t have worked so hard to save my life. That makes you the only ally I trust right now. Please.”

  They drove another mile in silence before she answered. “I can’t. I’m sorry, Larkin. I’m alone for a reason. You don’t understand.”

  “Then explain it to me.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t wish you any harm. But I can’t be your ally. I’ll drop you off somewhere. I can turn around and drive you down into Jackson if you’re not comfortable with the local cops or medical facility. I can float you a loan if you need money for airfare or a place to stay.”

  “I don’t need more cops. I don’t need a hotel full of strangers or to put more distance between me and what I suspect is the scene of the crime somewhere around here. I need to hide out with someone I can trust.”

  The truck swerved onto the shoulder as she turned to him. “You trust me?”

  Larkin didn’t question the instinctive clench of every muscle as they veered toward the guardrail. “Eyes on the road. The last thing I want to do is crash again.”

  “Again?” He’d blurted out the word without thinking. But she’d picked up on the slip. “You were in an accident? And you got shot and fell down a mountain?”

  Black SUV. Racing down the road. The next curve flying up at him. “They sabotaged my car.” The glimmer of the memory played through his head like a TV channel that was out of focus. “That’s how they stopped me. They forced me off the road. They wanted something from me.”

  “Who are they? What did they want?”

  The channel went dark before he hit upon the answers he needed. “I don’t know.” He tore at the neckline of the infernal hospital gown and reached inside. He pulled out a folded X-ray printout. He turned on the cab’s overhead light and opened the black-and-white image. He held it up to avoid Maxie’s shadow and pointed to the small rectangular object below his rib cage. “I’m guessing it has something to do with this.”

  “You stole that from the hospital?”

  “It’s my x-ray. The doc was checking for internal injuries. He found this instead. Asked me about it. I didn’t know what to tell him.” Maxie showed an interest in the picture by sniffing it, and Larkin suspected that told the dog about as much as he knew, which wasn’t a lot. “The nurse left it in my cubicle when she ran out to help with the other patient.”

  “What is that little thing in the middle of the picture?”

  “Looks like a thumb drive to me.”

  “What’s it doing in your stomach?”

  “I’d like to know that myself. Doc Russell gave me something to help it pass smoothly. Still might take a day or two.”

  “That’s gross.”

  “That’s a necessity. I need to know what’s on it.”

  “Maybe you should go back to the hospital until you...get rid of it.”

  He folded up the printout and tucked it back inside the gown. “If this is what the man who shot me was after, then I don’t want to be lying in a public facility with no real security, waiting to pass a key piece of evidence.”

  “I’m sorry for your trouble, but I don’t want to get involved.” Although she’d seemed briefly interested in solving the mystery, Ava’s shoulders stiffened with a resolute dismissal. “I have issues of my own I have to deal with.”

  “I can see that.” Her hand flew to her cheek, hiding the scar that had already seen some reconstructive surgery. He turned off the overhead light, hating that she thought she had to hide the mark from him. “Not your scars,” he explained. “Your reaction to things. Your attachment to this big brute.” He smoothed his fingers into the dog’s fur, wishing he could test the weight and softness of Ava’s ponytail instead. “I can tell Maxie’s more than a guard dog to you. Sure, I’m curious about your injuries. I’m human. But I’m not going to pry. You’ve been hurt. Terribly. You have all the habits of someone with post-traumatic stress. I’ve been there. A bum leg isn’t the only reason I had to leave the Corps.”

  “You have PTSD?”

  “I was a career Marine. My last deployment ended with a literal bang.” Before those graphic images could surface, he mentally repeated the mantra some headshrinker on some military base had taught him. Acknowledge. Compartmentalize. Replace the guilt with a more positive feeling and keep moving forward. “That’s one thing I wish I could forget.”

  “You remember getting hurt?” she asked, as if that might be a trigger for her.

  His was something different. “I remember the team under my command getting blown to bits.”

  Her hand fell away from her scar. She even brushed a wavy tendril of coffee-colored hair away from that cheek and tucked it beh
ind her ear. The moment she ventured out of her own head, she became open, compassionate, brave. A woman he’d like to get to know. Under different circumstances. “I’m so sorry.”

  He didn’t need pity. He doubted she did, either. “I can tell you’re afraid of something. Probably whoever cut you like that.” He set the gun down in his lap. Maybe there was a better method than coercion to earn her cooperation. “You’ve already helped me, just by listening and asking the right questions. I’m trained military police. If we could keep talking like this, triggering some of my memories, I’d be happy to help secure your place while I’m there.”

  “How do you know you’re an MP?”

  “Body condition. Reflexes and stamina. Weapons knowledge. An instinct to observe the hell out of the details and people around me.” A few distinct memories he wished he didn’t have. “I may not remember much about today or yesterday, but I remember serving. Training other men and women under my command. Wearing a uniform.” He hesitated at that one vivid memory he couldn’t forget. Compartmentalize. Move on. “If you still feel threatened, let me help you. In exchange for a place to hide out for a few days.”

  “No.”

  “But you are afraid of something?”

  “Larkin...” She slipped him a glance that revealed...hesitation? Fear? Weariness? But then she turned her eyes to the road again. “I’ll drive you anywhere else you want to go. Beyond that, I can’t help you.”

  Coercion—no. Hooking her curiosity—no. Revealing they were both damaged souls—no. Bargaining—no. Hell. He only had one option left to secure her cooperation. “I’ll tell everyone in Pole Axe that you’re A. L. Baines, famous author, probably rich enough to buy that whole town outright.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “Even if you deny it, just putting the rumor out there in the universe is bound to stir up one or two hundred internet searches on you. I bet you’d have fans coming out of the woodwork.”