A Stranger on Her Doorstep

by Julie Miller

  She released her breath in an audible gasp. “First kidnapping, now blackmail?”

  “You leave me no choice. I’m sorry I have to resort to that.” If the tattoo wasn’t evidence enough, he knew by his scramble to survive and the resolve he felt in making this difficult decision that he was, in fact, a military man. He had a mission to complete, and he needed her on his team to do it. “I won’t do anything to hurt you, Ava. But I need an ally, and you’re it.”

  She shook her head. “How can you need someone like me?”

  That was self-doubt, not a protest. Something in his heart tugged at the captivating dichotomy of Ava’s personality. Strength and vulnerability. Bravery and insecurity. A wildly creative imagination and a stone-cold grasp on reality. A legit talent in the art of sarcasm, and he had yet to hear her laugh. He carefully considered his answer. “Something about you makes me think you know exactly how I’m feeling right now.”

  “The last time I tried to help a man who needed me...” The truck gained speed as she shot him a sharp look. But she swallowed whatever emotion had darkened her eyes and spilled a truth he hadn’t expected to hear. “I was kidnapped two years ago.” Guilt, instant and overwhelming, weighed heavier than the gun lying in his lap. “Not like this. He didn’t need a gun. I voluntarily went to him. He was lying in a parking lot on campus, next to a beat-up old car. I thought he was a student who was hurt. Then he was smashing my head on the pavement. I woke up in my underwear, blindfolded, cold, strapped to a chair...and he...kept me. For three days, he tortured...” She ended with a blunt, “The scars are all from him.”

  Shock numbed him for a few moments. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.” And then the anger kicked in. He swore. Repeatedly. “And here I am, kidnapping you.” Survival had been his only goal. Truth was the key to reaching that goal. Ava Wallace had unwittingly offered him a way to achieve both. But there was a limit to who and what he’d sacrifice to complete his mission—and he’d just reached that limit with her confession. The end hadn’t justified the means. There was so much wrong with what she’d shared that Larkin felt like an ass for reaching out to her, for demanding something she couldn’t give him—something she shouldn’t have to give anyone. Whatever hell had screwed up his day, she’d been through worse and didn’t need to be a part of his world. When they sped past a forestry department sign indicating a stopping place up ahead, he pointed to it. “Pull off at that scenic overlook.”

  The truck wasn’t slowing down. “You won’t be able to see anything at night.”

  “I’m not interested in the view. Pull off.” He winced against the seat belt as she stomped on the brake to make the turnoff.

  Gravel crunched beneath the tires before she pulled into a parking slot facing the sidewalk and low rock wall that probably revealed a picturesque photo op of the lush, tree-covered mountains in the daylight. She shifted into Park and set the brake. “Are you not feeling well?”

  Nope. He was suffocating. Suffocating from the weight of guilt at subjecting Ava to any part of his trouble, and frustration that he hadn’t seen it coming and he couldn’t seem to do a damn thing about it. Except this. He had to tuck the gun into the back of his belt and push the curious dog out of his face to reach his seat belt and free himself.

  Maxie, no doubt picking up on the stress that was rolling off him in waves, leaned against his stitched-up shoulder. Larkin grunted at the ache that shot across his chest and down through his arm. But the pain was what he needed to clear his head to coordinate his movements and shove the door open.

  “Larkin?”

  Another sharp pain jolted through his knee and spiraled up to his brain when his feet hit the pavement. He had to cling to the open door for a few seconds to find his balance. Damn it. Why was he still so dizzy? He was in better shape than this. The day had taken its toll on him, leaving him feeling weak as a puppy. Determination had gotten him through everything else today. His stubborn will would get him through this, too. Once he felt like he could walk without face-planting, he closed the door and headed toward the sidewalk so that the path would be clear for Ava to drive away.

  She called to him through the open window. “Where are you going?”

  “Away from you.” He reached the rock wall, thought he might sit for a moment, then retreated a step at the thought of losing his balance and crashing over the edge of a mountain again. He headed back toward the road instead. He’d thumb down a ride and hitchhike to...somewhere. “It was a mistake to get you involved. I didn’t realize how fragile you were. I’ll figure this out on my own.”

  “Fragile?” He could tell from the tone of her voice that she didn’t like that. “Is that how you see me? Do you think that’s how everyone sees me?”

  “Poor choice of words. I meant...” He came back to the passenger window to explain that he was trying—possibly too late—to make things right between them. “You’re still working through your trauma. Getting involved with me isn’t going to help that.” That military resolve to get the job done, no matter the toll it took, faded in the shadows of those striking blue eyes aimed at him. “You saved my life. At the very least, I shouldn’t make things worse for you.”

  Her nostrils flared again, making her look a little pissed. “I’m already involved with you. Get back in the truck.”

  He pointed to the highway. “I’ll hitch a ride with someone else.”

  “How will you know if the person who picks you up isn’t the one who wants you dead?” She waved him back in. “I can handle this.”

  “Ava, you don’t have to prove to me how tough—”

  “Get in the damn truck.”

  He was beginning to see where a lot of her fictional inspiration came from. “That’s Willow Storm talking.”

  “Don’t say that. I’m Ava Wallace. I’m a real person. I’m a fighter. I don’t...want to be a victim anymore.” Her flare of temper faded, and she released the steering wheel to wind her arms around Maxie and bury her face in the dog’s shoulder. The stalwart pooch sat up straight, rubbing her head against Ava’s, giving her mistress the support she needed.

  “Honey, the woman who greeted me with a shotgun and tended my wounds is no victim. The woman who barely batted an eye when I pointed a gun at her is no victim.” He couldn’t tell if she was crying or inhaling deep breaths to get her through the emotions he’d stirred up in her. But he knew he couldn’t walk away and leave her feeling raw like this. He waited for the silent sobs to pass and found himself wishing he were in the dog’s place, absorbing her tension, allaying her fears, reminding her of her strength. He had one last card he could play to earn her cooperation. But he didn’t feel like he was making this deal for himself. When she raised her head again and met his gaze, he made his offer. “Do you think that helping me could aid your healing? Would it prove something to you that you need to believe in?”

  “I don’t know. I...” She stroked her fingers through Maxie’s fur. “I’m tired of being afraid and suspicious all the time. I never used to be. I’m an accomplished woman. I have skills. I’ve earned three college degrees. Written six books. The last five made the bestseller lists. There’s a filmmaker who wants to option the whole series. I have a dissertation and a dozen published articles under my belt. I can handle myself in the outdoors. I’m smart. I’m a good person. I used to help all kinds of people. Cared for my parents when they were sick. Tutored students. Mentored budding authors.”

  “You sound like a fighter to me to make all that happen.”

  “I made one wrong decision. Nearly paid for it with my life.” She leaned back in her seat, tipping her head back as if sharing her story had exhausted her. “I’m not sure why I’m telling you all this. Why aren’t I running over you with my truck and getting away from you as fast as I can?”

  “Because you and I get each other. I made a mistake this morning. Nearly paid for it with my life.” He repeated her words that rang fa
r too true for him, too. “You’re telling me because you understand how that one mistake can change your life. And you’d give anything for a chance to correct that mistake. Maybe I’m that chance.”

  She nodded. “Nobody here or back in Chicago gets that. People want to take care of me. Or fix things for me.”

  “Which makes you feel even more like a fragile victim.”

  Yeah, he got that. Even though he’d been tempted to take care of her, too, he could see that that wasn’t the kind of help that either of them needed.

  “It’s another reason I stick to my own company. Then I don’t have to see those looks of pity. Even Brandon hesitates when he sees this.” She softly brushed her fingers across the scar on her cheek.

  Another reason to relegate Sheriff Touchy-Feely to the jerk category, as far as Larkin was concerned. “There’s a fine line between compassion and pity.”

  She agreed. “I can’t tell anymore. I haven’t been able to trust my instincts since then. That’s why there hasn’t been another Bonecrusher book. I write and write, but I don’t trust that I’m taking the story in the right direction. I live like a hermit because I don’t trust people.”

  “The man who hurt you—was he caught?”

  It took her long enough to shake her head that he already knew the horrid, unjust answer.

  “Is he here in Wyoming?”

  Another headshake. “Chicago. I don’t know if he lives there, but he’s been there every summer for the past five years. That’s where it happened.”

  “That’s why your anonymity is so important to you. You’re hiding from him.” Larkin turned his head and swore into the night. Then he grabbed the edge of the open window and leaned in, wanting to judge her reaction. “Do I look like him? Remind you of him in any way?”

  “You’re both men.” But her attempt at humor fell flat. Her voice was soft, broken, as she reached for Maxie again. “That’s the hell of it. I never saw his face. He kept me blindfolded. Detective Charles, a friend of mine in Chicago PD, thinks he has a lead after a recent attack. I’m not the only woman he’s hurt. But apparently, I’m the only survivor who’s willing to work with CPD. Try to identify him. By sound. By touch and smell.”

  “Touch and smell?”

  “He...had scars, too. I could feel the puckered skin on his arms and chest when he touched me. He had one on his neck, too.” Larkin’s hand was curled into a fist, ready to punch someone, when she tried to make light of her suffering again. “If you were a diesel mechanic and had the smells of grease and hot metal on you, I don’t think I could have helped you.”

  Probably another reason why she chose to live in the fresh air of this natural habitat. “And his voice?”

  “I’ll never forget the things he said to me. The way he said them—as if the scar on his neck had damaged his throat, too. But I wouldn’t know him if I passed him on the street.”

  Sounded a little like a suicide bomber back in the Middle East. The young man who’d driven his delivery truck up to their checkpoint had been little more than a boy. Although his team had begun their routine check of the vehicle, they’d taken a few minutes to chat with the kid because they hadn’t seen the imminent threat. Hell of a way to live, not having anyone you could trust—not even herself. “He’ll know you before you know him. You don’t know who your enemy is.”

  “I guess that does sound familiar.” She sat up straight and studied him. “The only difference between us is that I’m trying to forget my past, while you’re trying to remember yours.”

  “I can’t do this to you.” As much as this woman’s books had gotten him through dark times, and her actions today had saved his life—as much as he was drawn to her wit and honesty and strength—Larkin turned away from Ava and started walking.

  “Who’s going to help you if I don’t?” He stopped at her words. Now, who was trying to convince the other that they should be working together as a team? Larkin turned to find her looking at him. Ava’s eyes were as dark as the twilight sky. The dashboard lights twinkled like stars reflected there. Larkin felt the impact of her beauty like a punch to the gut. Yeah, he supposed men like Sheriff Touchy-Feely saw the scars first. Or they overlooked her because she hid her femininity by dressing like a boy in those baggy clothes. But there was a light inside this woman that beamed straight into the murky shadows of his soul and illuminated the foggy nothingness of his memories. “It’s not realistic to think I can snap my fingers and go back to the person I used to be. But you...need me...to be that person again.”

  And who was arguing that they’d be better off apart? “I’m not forcing you to help me, Ava. I’ll find another way to get to the truth. I was wrong to threaten blackmail. I won’t tell a soul you’re A. L. Baines. I’m grateful for all you’ve done for me.” He tapped the door with his palm and retreated a step. “You take care of yourself. Be safe.”

  He spun around too quickly and swayed. When the black night and black asphalt swirled into one, he grabbed the bed of her truck and leaned against it to steady himself. Ava was out her side of the truck in a second, hurrying around to help balance him. With one hand at his elbow, she steadied him against the side of the truck. When she opened the passenger door to help him inside, he discovered he was a little stronger than he’d been that afternoon and planted his feet and pushed away her steadying hand. “I’m not asking you to get involved with this.”

  Why the hell would anyone think this woman was weak? She grabbed his belt and turned him toward the opening. Larkin grasped her wrist with his usable hand and pulled her grip loose. When he stepped to the side, she shifted. He settled his hand at the curve of her waist and pushed, but she palmed the center of his chest and pushed back.

  “Stop fighting me,” she chided. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  He suspected that even with his aching shoulder, he could lift her off the ground and set her aside. But with his wonky sense of balance they’d probably both end up flat on the pavement. This time when she pushed, his knee buckled, and his hips landed on the edge of the seat. She tumbled into the vee of his legs, the brace of her hand the only thing keeping them from full body contact. Larkin froze, not wanting to frighten her once she realized how close they were.

  He didn’t want Ava, for even one second, to fear him the way she must have once feared her abductor.

  She stared at the hand splayed against his chest, and he wondered if she could feel the heat of that touch through the ridiculously thin cotton of his hospital gown the way he could. He wondered if she had any idea that she was close enough for him to inhale the herbal scent of her shampoo on her hair. He wondered if she understood how attracted to her he was.

  Her fingertips flexed against the cotton, briefly pressing into the skin and muscle underneath. Even that little pinch was a turn-on for him. Could a blow to the head make a guy this hot for a woman he’d known fewer than twenty-four hours? The nurse at the hospital had been pretty, in a delicate, feminine sort of way, but she hadn’t even turned his head. Maybe he was into Ava Wallace because this woman’s stories had already filled his imagination, distracted him from months of pain and rehab and touched his soul. She reminded him of the strong and sexy Willow of her books. It felt like he’d known her a lot longer than twenty-four hours.

  “Maybe I need someone to ask for my help.” He could see the wheels inside her head turning behind her eyes. And then she blinked and turned her face up to his, and he knew he’d agree to whatever deal she had in mind. “I make no guarantees about how much good I’ll really be to you. And I can’t promise I won’t have a panic attack and flip out on you, possibly make things even worse.” Her chest expanded with a deep breath. “My instincts tell me that I can trust you, and that I’m the only person who can help you, until you regain your memory. Clearly, you think the same thing.”

  “Ava...”

  Just as he covered her hand with his against his ches
t, she reached behind him and took the gun from his belt before pulling away. He’d been briefly distracted by feelings and chemistry when he should have been bracing to face the barrel of the gun. Ah, hell. Had this whole conversation been a distraction so that she could regain the upper hand? He wouldn’t have protested her right to defend herself. But she tucked the Hellcat into her own belt. “I have a three-second rule.”

  “Huh?”

  “I panic when people touch me, especially when I don’t see it coming.” A hazard of her ordeal, no doubt. “But when I control the touch, or okay it, I’ve worked up to keeping it together for three seconds before I have to break contact.”

  He’d been worried about the gun, while she’d been worried about him touching her. Although he felt like she’d been leaning into him a good deal longer, he respected her directive. “Three seconds. I’ll remember that.”

  “Maxie. Move over.” He no longer fought her efforts to help him inside the truck because he didn’t want to fight her. “You can stay with me until you can look at that thumb drive, or you regain your memory—whichever comes first.”

  “Ava—”

  She held up a finger to shush him. “I need to be able to do this. I need to be able to trust my instincts again. Yes, I made a mistake that night. But I am not the mistake. I need to believe that again.” She closed the door and walked around the truck to get in behind the wheel. “The way I live, it should be fairly easy to keep your presence at my cabin a secret for a few days.” She reached over to lock the gun in the glove box before starting the engine. “But I am keeping all the guns and ammo with me. Even the magazine that’s in your pocket.”

  Impressed with her observation skills, he pulled out the rack of bullets and handed it to her. “When did you know the gun wasn’t loaded?”

  “Just now. I suspected earlier when you held it in your weak hand. But I confirmed it when I felt the weight of it.” A blush crept up her neck and warmed her pale skin. “And I may or may not have checked out your backside when you stumbled.” He arched an eyebrow. Although he couldn’t imagine worse circumstances to launch any kind of relationship between them, it was nice to know he wasn’t the only one fighting a little chemistry. “You step one foot out of line, though, and I will shoot you myself,” she warned.