by Julie Miller
“Desperately.” He breathed in the aroma, then sipped the steaming, revitalizing brew. “Mmm. That’s good. Thanks.”
After another drink, he carried the mug to the bedside table and set it down so that he could pull on a T-shirt. When it got caught beneath his arm and he groaned at the twisting motion of trying to free it, he suddenly felt an extra pair of hands on his shoulder and back. “Try not to lift your arm.” His muscles jumped at the stroke of Ava’s hands. There was nothing tentative about her touch. And though he knew she was acting as a nursemaid, there was something about her fingers against his skin that felt familiar...and arousing in an ill-timed, moving-too-fast-for-this-woman way. “Do you want the sling? I can run downstairs and get it,” she offered.
Why would he remember her touch when he couldn’t come up with his own name? Plus, it was a dangerous sign that he wished she’d been taking off his shirt, instead of pulling it down his torso. With his naked body removed from her view, he moved away from where her hand lingered on his shoulder, although moving away from Ava was the last thing he wanted to do. “I’m not wearing that thing anymore. Makes me feel like I’ve got one arm tied behind my back. I think the stitches will hold as long as I don’t overdo it.”
He drank another sip of coffee before pulling on a pair of socks. When he groaned at the resistance of tugging on his work boots, Ava knelt in front of him to help with that, too. “I pegged you for a black coffee kind of guy. Although I do have sugar, half-and-half and four flavors of creamer if you want.”
Yep. A man who couldn’t properly dress himself needed to stop thinking about the whole sexual tension thing simmering in his blood. “Straight up will do fine.” He took another drink a little too quickly and nearly scalded the roof of his mouth. But it was enough of a metaphoric pinch to pull him back to what was important here. “I’ve got it. Thanks.” He took over tying his own boots while Ava rolled to her feet and retrieved her own mug of coffee. “You ready to talk about that note?”
“How’s the rest of you feeling this morning?”
So that would be a no. Fine. She wasn’t the only one who needed a few minutes to shake off the feeling that their lives had crashed into each other and were irrevocably changing. “I finally shook that groggy feeling. Makes me wonder what the doc gave me for it to hang on so long. Shoulder and knee are better. Still have a thumb drive in my belly. Head’s throbbing, and no, I can’t remember my name.” Enough stalling. He tied off the second boot and sat up. “I’m worried about you. Something happened in town.”
She sank onto the bed beside him, studying the depths of her coffee a few moments before lifting her gaze to his. “Does the name Luke sound familiar?”
“Luke?” Had someone named Luke sent her that message? Oh. He picked up his key chain from the bedside table. “L.B. Luke... Something... Luke...?” He shook his head and tucked the keys to an unknown home or apartment into his pocket. “Should it?”
“Luke or Lucas Bell, maybe?”
“Bell...” That didn’t sound right. Hell, the only name that sounded right to his ears this morning was Larkin. He wasn’t forgetting that note or her panic attack, but he’d let her lead the conversation where she needed it to go. “You learned something in town this morning about me?”
“There were two men asking about a missing person named Luke. I spoke to one of them. Roy Hauser?” Nope. That name wasn’t clicking anything into place, either. “He’s probably in his forties. Dark hair. Muscular build. He had your picture on his phone. Mr. Hauser mentioned the name Luke. He said he’s the security chief of Bell Design Systems, and that you used to work for the company. I wonder if you could be a relative. I didn’t want to confirm that I knew you until I ran it past you first.”
“Used to work for BDS?” Maybe his automatic use of the acronym wasn’t a breakthrough. Bell Design Systems was a big enough company that he’d heard of it. They designed technology that the military used. He remembered the BDS logo on software and scanning equipment he’d used. But he had no recollection of working for the company itself. “You’re certain it was me he was asking about?”
“The man in the picture looked a lot like you. At least, a version of you. Less scruffy—more military man than medieval warrior. The shop owner and our local newspaper editor were already talking about my mystery man. Hauser must have overheard them and came up to me.”
“Your mystery man?” There was already gossip around town about them? If the locals had made the connection, it was only a matter of time before the people who’d tried to kill him did, too.
“From yesterday. Nobody knows you’re here now. They think you skipped town.”
Larkin pushed to his feet, pacing the length of the room. “I don’t like that he singled you out. I don’t want anyone associating me with you. It puts you in the line of fire.”
“I wasn’t singled out,” she assured him. “He was talking to everyone. They were on their way to see Dr. Russell when they left. Doc Russell has been asking about you, too.”
“I know. I heard the messages from him.”
“More than one?”
He nodded.
She ran her finger around the edge of her mug, and he once again felt the kick of a memory of her hands on him. “I lied to Mr. Hauser. I said the picture was different from the man I left at the hospital last night. Should I make up a lie to tell Dr. Russell, too?”
If he was looking for a missing person, he’d be questioning everyone. And he’d be watching for subtle nuances in expression that could give away someone with something to hide. Ava wrote fiction for a living, but was she a convincing liar?
She stood, cradling the warm mug between her hands. “Does any of this sound familiar?”
Larkin was pacing again, fighting to make any bit of this information slide into place. Option B. Bullet to the head or diving off the edge of a cliff. Lying on the ground, looking up at a gun. And the man holding the gun...could have been Little Mary Sunshine for all he knew. Larkin swore in frustration. Even if his memory was clear, his vision had been blurred from the head injury.
“Don’t try so hard to remember,” Ava suggested. “It’s like when I’m searching for just the right word to use in a scene, and it won’t come to me, no matter how hard I try. Obviously, what you’re trying to remember is on a bigger scale, but a lot of times the word that’s eluding me comes to me when I stop thinking about it. Like when I’m doing the dishes or walking Maxie.”
He grunted a wry laugh. “Got any dishes I can wash?”
That earned a soft smile from Ava. “No. But I will take Maxie for a walk after lunch.”
“Do you mind if I tag along?”
“Not at all.” The smile vanished and she took another sip of coffee, fortifying herself for her next comment. “I have an Option B in mind for you. In case the cabin is compromised, and you need a place to hide.”
“Out in the woods?”
She nodded. “I almost went there this morning instead of coming here.”
“Because of the note?”
“There’s a place I found when I was a little girl. It’s on Grandpa’s property, but I never told anyone but him where it was. I’ve gone there a lot over the years when I needed some quiet time. I wouldn’t recommend hanging out there in the winter. But in the summer, it’s a pretty sweet hideout.”
He could picture her as a little girl, with long pigtails and skinned knees, exploring her grandparents’ land. She was probably a bookworm who’d climbed a tree and read for hours. “Sounds pretty special. You sure you want to share it with me?”
“I don’t have an Option C for you.” The crunch of gravel outside the open windows brought an abrupt end to the conversation. Downstairs, Maxie barked and ran to the front door, her big paws hitting like hoofbeats on the wood floor. Ava crossed to the window to peek through the curtain. “Now what?”
Larkin reached th
e window half a step behind her. “You expecting visitors?”
“Never.” Ava palmed his chest, pushing him away from the window before running past him.
He was tall enough to peer over her head before the curtains closed, spotting the SUV with the circle and badge on its side pulling up to the house. “It’s your sheriff friend. Want me to answer it?” Larkin was right behind her, coming down the stairs two at a time.
“You can’t.” He nearly plowed into her back when she abruptly planted her feet and turned. “You’re not here, remember?” She pushed him back toward the stairs, then curled her fingers into the front of his shirt when they heard a vehicle door slam. She tugged hard and changed directions, pushing him through the dining area into the kitchen. “I’ll get rid of him, but you need to stay out of sight.”
Ava wasn’t overpowering him so much as he wasn’t fighting her wishes in any way. “I don’t like that guy.”
“So I gather.”
“He doesn’t respect you. He’s like Lord Zeville. Willow wouldn’t put up with the way he treats you.”
“We can do a literary analysis later.” His boots hit the tile floor of the kitchen and Ava guided him around the center island. “Right now, you can hide in the pantry.” She pulled her lips to her teeth and whistled at a shrill enough pitch that Larkin grimaced. “Maxie, come!” Okay, that should not be such a turn-on, but this woman was completely in control of that dog and as powerful as he’d ever seen her. The big white dog came loping in at Ava’s command and sat beside her. She centered herself by touching the dog’s head before the door closed in Larkin’s face. The door swung open again just as quickly, and she tossed in the sling he’d left lying on the island. “I’ll keep him outside. You stay put.”
He couldn’t. He couldn’t let Ava face the authorities without any kind of backup. If this was about him, he’d reveal himself and absolve her of any wrongdoing. And if this was about whatever relationship Sheriff Touchy-Feely thought he could force on Ava, then Larkin was going to do something about that, too.
As soon as he heard the front door open and close behind Ava and Maxie, Larkin crept out of the pantry, assessing his options in case he needed to intervene. His gaze landed on the butcher block of knives. He palmed the knife he’d used earlier and edged along the walls. Thank goodness the mountain air was pleasant enough that Ava opened windows instead of running the air. Although he couldn’t get a clear sight line from the first floor without giving his presence away, he inched as close as he dared to the dining room window overlooking the porch and listened in.
He heard the clomp of the sheriff’s boots on the wood steps. “Ava? I heard you had a freak-out in town. What happened, baby?”
If she’d objected to honey, then she was probably seething at baby.
Her voice was quiet, but she didn’t hesitate to answer. “I figured I’d be hearing from you, Brandon. Did Sue call?”
“Sue and Kris both. They were worried about you. Said you were really upset or having a seizure or something.” A third clomp told Larkin that Stout had finally been allowed—or pushed his way—onto the porch. “You never used to be like that, you know, before you came back to town.”
This guy didn’t know about her PTSD? Did he know how Ava had gotten her scars? Had he ever bothered to ask?
“I guess I overreacted.” He heard a pause and figured out the flyer was changing hands. “This was on my truck when I came out of the coffee shop. I don’t suppose any of the other flyers in Pole Axe had a personal message like this.”
The sheriff took his time reading the note. “Since everybody says you went postal on Main Street, I’m guessing this is a threat and not a love letter.”
“It’s not a love letter. You know I’m not involved with anyone.”
“Not for lack of trying.” Did he really think that line would work with her? Get a clue, pal. “Somebody been giving you grief? That guy you drove to the hospital yesterday? Doc Russell says he skipped out without leaving a forwarding address. Has he threatened you?”
“Kent Russell? He’s called a few times, but he’s never threatened me.” Wow. Although Larkin couldn’t see her face from this position, he had to admire Ava’s acting skills. He’d never had the patience to deal with a clueless bimbo who couldn’t manage an intelligent conversation.
But Sheriff Touchy-Feely seemed to be eating it up. “Not the doc, baby. That stranger who got you involved in whatever trouble he’s in.”
“Oh. He’s gone?” Could the sheriff not see the intelligence gleaming from the depths of those blue eyes? “I left the hospital right after you and haven’t seen him since.”
“Sue said you were buying men’s clothes.”
“I needed new jeans,” she answered without missing a beat. “I can’t keep wearing Grandpa’s things. They’re starting to wear out.”
“Well, there’s something hinky about that guy. Besides stiffing the clinic, I’m wondering if he’s involved in something illegal. Running drugs. Hiding out from some other crime. You know, I wonder about that vehicle that was destroyed in Scott Harold’s junkyard. First, I thought the old man was being irresponsible. But if Mr. Marine is on the run from someone, he could have torched his SUV to cover his tracks.”
“I wouldn’t know anything about that.”
He nodded. “Of course not. Do you want to come into town? Stay with me for a few days? You could work in my apartment while I’m out huntin’ down the bad guys. I could grill dinner on the deck. Give us time to catch up on the old days.”
“Thanks for asking, but I’m fine here.”
“I want you to be safe.”
“I know. Oh.” Larkin curled his toes inside his boots at Ava’s startled gasp. That lout had grabbed Ava again, and Larkin knew he shouldn’t intervene. But if anything Sheriff Stout said or did triggered another panic attack, he’d be out the door right now, turning himself in and doing whatever was necessary to make sure Ava was okay. One thousand one. One thousand two. Anytime now, buddy, let her go.
And then Larkin heard a woof. Larkin pressed himself flat against the shiplap as Stout stumbled into view and the Great Pyrenees dropped to her front paws. Good girl, Larkin silently praised the dog for pushing the sheriff away from her mistress. The big brute wasn’t any kind of killer, but she wasn’t letting anybody come between her and her mistress if Ava needed her.
Queen Mother of the Dragons to the rescue.
“I appreciate you looking out for me, Brandon,” Ava said. “But I can take care of myself.”
“I can see that. Maxie here won’t let anybody hurt you.” The sheriff petted the dog and then moved out of sight, leaving, he hoped.
“Nope. She won’t.”
Larkin eased his grip on the knife as he heard heavy boots on the steps.
“Mind if I keep this flyer? Could be one of the high-school kids trying to bully someone else or pull a prank, and they got the wrong truck. I’ll double-check your make of truck against others that are registered in the area.”
“Let me know if you find out anything, okay? Call,” Ava insisted, not encouraging any more visits.
“I’ll do that. In the meantime, you take care.”
“I will.”
The sheriff was back at his SUV, opening the door, when he paused for one last condescending reassurance. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about this, Ave. I’ll take care of it for you.”
Ava was rubbing her fingers over her unblemished cheek as she locked the door behind her and stalked through the dining room with Maxie at her side. Seriously? Had that guy kissed her? Larkin wasn’t so enlightened that his blood didn’t boil at the thought of another man touching her in a way he wanted. Ava paused but didn’t seem surprised when she saw his position near the window.
“I guess I don’t have to repeat anything the sheriff said. The town thinks I’m crazy, and you’re a w
anted man.”
Once he was certain the sheriff had driven away, Larkin followed her into the kitchen. “I really don’t like that guy. He’s got no respect for the three-second rule.” He returned the knife to the block while she opened the fridge and stared inside. “He took the note, didn’t he? Not that we can do anything with evidence like that. Maybe he’ll get a print off it and tell you who sent it.”
“Maybe it was a practical joke like Brandon suggested.” He doubted it. He wasn’t dismissing any coincidences until he knew who the enemy was, and that the enemy hadn’t now targeted Ava. “Hungry? I can throw together something for lunch.”
He watched her pull out a loaf of bread and hug it to her chest. “Hungry for answers. I will always find you. What does that mean to you? Does Sheriff Stout know? And don’t give me that fragile baby flower answer you gave him.”
She didn’t. “It was a voice from my past.”
“I’m right behind you.” He pulled her aside and closed the refrigerator door, giving her arm a quick squeeze before he released her, ignoring the urge to pull her against him again and hold her until that haunted look left her expression. “There are no coincidences in my life right now.” Her eyes followed his hands as he took the bread from her and set it on the counter. He didn’t mind being patient, but they were having this conversation. “Tell me why the note upset you.”
She surprised him by pulling his fingers from the countertop. It wasn’t the hug he wanted to give, or even the kiss he was longing to try. But it was contact. She’d initiated it. She was still stroking her thumb inside his palm, making him crazy with even that simplest of contact, and he’d already silently counted to seven. He curled his fingers around hers. If she wanted to hold on to him, he wasn’t letting go.
He gently asked the question. “I will always find you is significant because...?”
“Because that’s the last thing my kidnapper said to me before he let me go.”
Chapter Eight
“That’s the best he can do?”
