Only When I Sleep

by E V Lind

  “I thought I told you to leave that.”

  “It would damage the floor if I did that.”

  “Not your problem.”

  “But—”

  “Beth, I said I’d take care of it, but it’s a low priority. Right now, I need to take care of you. Now, sit down and let’s get that cut cleaned up.”

  “I can do it. Just give me the stuff and I’ll go to the bathroom.”

  Ryan simply stood there staring at her, willing her to do as he’d suggested. In the end he won. Beth huffed a sigh and tried to roll up her sleeve but it wouldn’t go high enough.

  “You’ll need to undo it,” Ryan said as he laid out his kit on the coffee table in front of her.

  “Undo...?”

  “Your shirt. Just slip it off this shoulder,” he said with a brief touch on her arm. When she didn’t immediately do as he’d suggested realization dawned and he hastened to reassure her. “Look, I’ll turn away while you arrange yourself. Just say the word when you’re ready, okay?”

  “I...thanks, Ryan.”

  God, that husky note in her voice got to him every damn time. Ryan felt something in his chest clench tight and he knew that no matter what, he’d do his best to protect her—to see that she wouldn’t have to feel like this ever again.

  “Ready.”

  Without so much as making eye contact with her, Ryan sat down beside her then cleaned her cut and checked it. He fought to keep his hand steady as he wiped the wound clean. Her skin was soft. Warm. And her natural scent wound its way into his nostrils to tickle at his mind. To remind him she was very much a woman while he was very much a man. A man who hadn’t been with a woman in a long time.

  Ryan savored the sensation for the barest second before drilling himself to remember what he was doing here and now. He assessed the cut as he cleaned it. It was still seeping steadily but it wasn’t as bad as he’d anticipated. She could have done with a stitch or two but the strips he had in the kit would have to do. He neatly applied some strips and a waterproof dressing then sat back.

  “You’re all done. The dressing will keep it dry while you shower. We’ll check the wound and redress it tomorrow.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

  He nodded and gathered up the used swabs to throw in the fire. Beth had risen and was struggling to get her shirt back on when he turned back from the fire.

  “Here, let me help you with that,” he said and crossed to her.

  “It’s okay,” she protested.

  “Seriously, Beth. Learn to accept help from time to time. Okay? Although, rather than getting dressed I think you should think about having a shower and going to bed. You’ve had quite a day, yes?”

  She hesitated a moment and he just knew she was fighting back her customary objection, but then she surprised him.

  “You’re right,” she said with obvious reluctance. “I’ll head on up to bed. You’re sure you don’t want me to clean—”

  “I’ve got it. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

  She nodded in response and for the briefest moment their eyes met and held. Ryan couldn’t help it, he leaned forward that bit more until their lips touched. Instant heat flared through him, lighting like a spark in timber left to dry for too long. Her lips were soft beneath his and he heard her sharp intake of breath. But rather than pull away from him, Beth accepted his kiss. Accepted it, and returned it. Instinct urged him to take her in his arms, to gently show her exactly how a man ought to treat a woman, but caution and logic forced him to pull back. He broke off the kiss and all too briefly rested his forehead against hers before straightening to his full height.

  “Sweet dreams,” he said, his voice just a tiny bit gruff.

  Beth stood there for a few seconds, obviously more than a little stunned.

  “You too,” she said simply.

  And then she smiled and Ryan felt relief flow through him as though a dam had burst. It had been a risky move—one that could have backfired horribly and seen her run from the safety of his house and out into who knew the fuck where. But as risky as it had been, it had also felt right on so many levels he couldn’t even begin to understand. He’d fought this, fought her being here in his town. And now he understood why. He wanted her like he’d wanted no other and yet, to the soles of his feet, he knew he didn’t deserve her. Not when his past failures had led to the loss of so many lives. Not when his best friend’s wife was left raising Tuck’s son on her own.

  As Beth walked out of the room, Ryan watched her, rooted to the spot.

  “Hey,” he called out as she reached the doorway. “Now we’re on kissing terms, can I know your last name?”

  She hesitated a moment before answering. “Campbell. I’m Beth Campbell.”

  “Thank you, Beth Campbell. Sleep well.”

  She nodded and turned away again. Her shirt fell partly away from her, exposing a section of her back and shoulder blades. There were scars there, some old, some obviously newer. All of them the kind that made him clench his fists in frustration. If the guy who did this was coming for her then the low life scum had better damn well be prepared. He’d show him not to pick on women.

  Then, once he knew Beth was safe, he’d let her go for good. He had to.

  Cleaning up the sitting room only took a few minutes and the second he was done Ryan walked through the ground floor of the old house checking doors and windows with more care than he would have normally. He paused at one window and stared out into the darkness. There was a threat out there. It was a tangible thing that had weight and substance and the shape of a man for whom evil was as much of a convention as honor was to Ryan. He could feel it drawing nearer and there was no way he’d brush that sensation aside this time. No, when Beth’s ex arrived, and he had no doubt the man would, he would be ready.

  It had gone quiet upstairs so Ryan went into his office and fired up the computer. A few strokes of the keyboard later and the search results he sought were lined up on his screen. He clenched his jaw and read through the articles. It made for sobering reading. The injuries inflicted on the woman weren’t detailed beyond mentioning that she had suffered torture and sexual assault before being strangled. Every word made him that much angrier, that much more determined to ensure that Beth did not meet the same fate.

  He wanted to know more about the man he was going to face. Better to know your enemy. Like he’d known Aliah? Ryan swallowed back the bile that rose in his throat. He couldn’t have been more wrong about her. He’d allowed her perceived vulnerability to appeal to his predisposition to protect those weaker than himself. He’d never been more wrong in his life.

  Ryan pushed back from the computer desk and went to stand by the window again. Staring into the dark as if it could magically provide answers to the indecision that chipped away at the back of his mind. He would do this. He would keep Beth safe and he would make sure that her ex could never hurt her again. He drew in a deep breath, filling his lungs and redefining his purpose.

  Striding back to his computer he pulled up another search, this time using Beth’s name. It took a while to narrow the search down but eventually he found the newspaper report on her disappearance after the arson at her house. Information could be given to a detective at the local station, Daniel Henderson.

  Ryan leaned back in his chair. At least now he had a name. A quick internet search of Henderson revealed little. Like most cops, the man had no visible social media presence and aside from his name appearing in a handful of crime news reports, it was as if he was a ghost. Ryan rode out the shiver of premonition that rippled down his back. Even ghosts could be traced eventually.

  Ryan closed down his computer and went to his gun safe to check his weapons. The familiar scent of gun oil filtered by him as he assessed them. Two rifles, two handguns. He’d sworn after his discharge that he’d never raise a gun against another human being as long as he lived. He hadn’t counted on coming face-to-face with a man like Daniel Henderson. He reached for the .38 Walther an
d tucked it in the back of his waistband before locking the safe again. Upstairs in his room he got the ammunition from his cupboard, loaded the clip and laid the weapon on his bedside cabinet.

  He was ready.

  THIRTY-SIX

  Beth lay in her bed listening to Ryan move around downstairs. Grief for her friend’s death clawed at her from the inside and her pillow was damp from the tears that would not stop falling. And, threaded through the grief, her fear for what would come next grew. He wouldn’t stop until he found her, she just knew it. But how long would it take? Another day? Two? A week? And who else would he hurt? She couldn’t bear to imagine Dan doing to Mary-Ann what he’d done to Colleen. Or what he might do to Ryan.

  The cut on her arm throbbed as she shifted on the mattress, reminding her of its presence. Reminding her of how gentle Ryan had been dressing it. And of what had happened next. Her fingers strayed to her lips as if by touching them she could relive the sensation of Ryan’s kiss.

  It had taken her completely by surprise. She hadn’t imagined ever wanting to kiss a man again, but Ryan’s kiss had not only been unexpected, it had been incredibly sweet and reassuring, too. She rolled over again and shoved her pillow into a new shape, earning a mew of annoyance from Snowball.

  “I’m sorry, puss,” Beth said, reaching out and scooping the feline closer to her. “I promise I’ll stop fussing now and we can both get some sleep, okay?”

  A creak on the stairs at least half an hour later warned Beth Ryan was on his way up to bed. She listened as he walked along the landing and then turned away from her room and toward the back of the second floor and bit down on her lip to stop herself from calling a final goodnight to him. What did she expect from it anyway, she asked herself? That he’d come in here and offer to tuck her in? That he’d kiss her again?

  No. She didn’t want that. She certainly wasn’t ready for anything like that. Not now, maybe not ever. Because she’d been there before. Kissing led to touching. Touching led to... Beth screwed her eyes shut then opened them again as all too familiar and painful images burned at the back of her mind. No. She definitely didn’t want that. And how on earth could she even think about something like that when the woman who’d reached out to help her now lay broken, cold and dead because of her. How many people would be hurt now, because of her—because she’d stayed here in Riverbend?

  Besides, there wasn’t just herself to consider. A man like Ryan would no doubt prefer a life without the complications that came with someone like her. Someone a whole lot less damaged and, she thought as she stroked her gently swelling belly with one hand, a whole lot less encumbered. So, she remained silent and closed her eyes against the light that filtered around her door frame.

  When she woke late the next morning, grief for Colleen still sat like a dark, heavy cloak on her shoulders. Beth forced herself to sit up and looked at her clock in horror. She was going to be late for her shift. Why hadn’t Ryan woken her? He was probably hard at work in the milking parlor by now. Maybe he didn’t even know she’d slept in. She hurried through her shower and dragged her clothes on carefully when the tape on her arm pulled underneath the dressing to remind her to slow down a little. When she finally got downstairs she was surprised to find Ryan in the kitchen.

  “Not milking this morning?” she asked.

  “Elliot and Peter can handle it,” he answered briefly. “I talked to Ma, told her about your injury. She said to stay home today.”

  “Ryan, why? I’m perfectly capable of working.”

  “Ma and I agreed—you’ll be better off here at the house today, or with me at the very least.”

  A piece of her was relieved she wouldn’t be carrying trays and plates today. Her arm was definitely tender but she’d looked forward to losing herself in work, in the busyness and warmth that was a normal day in the café. Beth moved around the kitchen getting some breakfast cereal then the milk from the fridge. It irked her that between them, Mary-Ann and Ryan had taken that choice from her.

  “I can make my own decisions,” she said but to her annoyance her voice wasn’t as strong as she’d intended it to be.

  “I know. Look, after today we thought it would be best if I take you to work each day. We think you should have someone with you as much as possible. Just to be on the safe side until Henderson is caught.”

  Beth froze. “How do you know his name?”

  “I did some searching last night. His name is attached to the news article about your house burning down.”

  “You had no right to do that.”

  “I had every right. I need to know what, hell, who we’re dealing with here.”

  What he said made sense but it reminded her that with every minute she spent with everyone here, she was potentially endangering them too. If Dan had been able to find out about the call she’d made to Colleen then he’d be able to track her down. After what he’d done to Colleen, Beth knew that no one near her would be safe.

  “Beth?” Ryan interrupted her thoughts.

  “Hmm?”

  “I will protect you. We all will.”

  “That’s what worries me. You heard what he did to Colleen. He won’t stop until he gets me.”

  “He will be stopped.”

  There was something in Ryan’s tone that made her look at him. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw the implacable expression on his face, the grim determination reflected in his eyes. It felt foreign to have someone in her corner. Someone prepared to watch over her, to fight for her if necessary. And yet, it felt strangely right at the same time. The thought was scary. She cared about the people here. She didn’t want them in Dan’s sights, too.

  “Ryan, he doesn’t care who he hurts.”

  “He won’t hurt any more people if I have anything to do with it.”

  He got up from the table, reached across the kitchen bench for the coffee pot and topped off his mug. As he shifted, she caught a glimpse of the handgun nestled in a concealment holster at his side.

  Cold shock plowed through her. A gun?

  “What’s that?” she asked, knowing exactly what it was.

  “Necessary, that’s what it is.”

  Ryan was different this morning. The gentle, warm man who’d treated her cut last night, the man who’d kissed her so unexpectedly and so sweetly, was gone. In his place was a cold, unyielding creature. If it wasn’t for his limp she might have wondered if the man sipping coffee at the bench was another person entirely. Then again, maybe this was the real Ryan Jones. The career soldier. The man used to toting a lethal weapon—and using it.

  Suddenly Beth didn’t feel like eating her cereal anymore. The fear that she’d managed to keep at bay threatened to fill and overwhelm her. An all too familiar pressure built behind her breastbone, making it hard to breathe, even harder to focus.

  “Beth? You okay?”

  She felt Ryan move to her side, felt the heat of his body, inhaled the clean, freshly showered scent of him. Bit by bit, the anxiety that had gripped her began to ease.

  “I’m okay. Just had a moment, is all,” she finally managed.

  “Is it the gun?”

  “No, of course not. I’ve seen guns before.”

  And she had. Oregon was an open carry state. Guys coming into the diner had often had a holster on their hip. No, it wasn’t the gun. It was why he had to have it.

  “Is it your arm? Do you want me to take a look at it?”

  She shook her head. “I’m fine. Truly.”

  Ryan moved away and rinsed his cup in the sink. Beth stayed frozen in her chair.

  “You gonna eat that?” he asked, gesturing to her bowl.

  “Maybe a little bit,” she said, still feeling shaky. Beth lifted her spoon and was horrified to see milk spill back into the bowl as her hand shook. She set the spoon back down and got up from the table. “Okay, maybe not. I’ll get something later.”

  “And I’ll be there to make sure you do.”

  “All day?”

  “All day.�
�

  Beth suddenly remembered what they’d discussed last night before she’d seen the news. “Are you still going to dig up the shed today?”

  “Yeah, I guess that means you’ll need to be there. You can stay inside at the old house if you prefer.”

  Beth shuddered. The thought of being inside that house with its oppressive, disapproving atmosphere was more than she could stand. “No, I’ll watch from outside.”

  Ryan gave her a nod. “Fine. Get your coat and wrap up warm and we’ll head down. My farm manager, Steve, is meeting me there with the backhoe and the boys are coming as soon as they’ve finished in the milking parlor.”

  They headed down the drive in Ryan’s truck and then turned into the MacDonald place. He pulled up at the front of the house and they walked around to the back. She could already hear the sounds of timber being stacked along with the murmur of male voices.

  “Looks like Elliot and Peter finished early,” Ryan remarked as he rounded the corner. “The guys and I discussed it this morning. They’re going to clear away the debris and then dig a couple of feet down. If they don’t find anything there we’ll just fill it in. If anyone is buried there, I doubt they’ll be deep.”

  Beth nodded. A part of her hoped they wouldn’t find anything but equally, another part of her knew that the whole sad story needed closure. And, if anyone was there—they’d finally be able to be laid to rest properly.

  The backhoe looked massive, especially with its huge claw poised and ready to strike the ground. Beth shivered and pulled her coat tighter around her. A chill wind had turned the air frigid today. Winter was very definitely on its way.

  As you should be. Get away. STAY away!

  Slut!

  The voice was vicious, cutting like a blade through her consciousness and filling her with its disgust and hatred.

  “You okay?” Ryan asked, coming up beside her.

  Beth nodded. “I think so.”

  It was just a voice from the past. It couldn’t touch her. Couldn’t hurt her. Beth briefly rubbed her fingers over her knuckles before shoving her hands deep into the pockets of her coat. She jumped as the machine in front of her started up and belched a surly black cloud of smoke from its exhaust.